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This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. A UTHOR : MOULTON, RICHARD GREEN TITLE: THE ANCIENT CLASSICAL DRAMA PLACE: OXFORD DA TE : 1890 COLUMBIA UNIVEI^ITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT DIIiLIOGRAPHIC MirRQrORM TARHFT Master Negative # Restrictions on Use: Original Material as Filmed - Existing Dibliographic Record ,- ^ ■ 1 ' « * \ |880.129 1M86 f wrr » ■ 'r ■4fii'i yolumes(s) missing/not available:. / .Illegible and /or damaged page(s): p, y- (> n-lg^'^g-ag^BO^ H-il Ll.<.y fe^ Page(s) or volumes(s) misnumbered: Bound out of sequence:. 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'aJ^X ?^V^." ; rf~- PERRY LIBRARY 1938 m THE LIBRARIES j|7' ■ ' -' ■ '"f i'^ y THE ANCIENT CLASSICAL DRAMA f.l MOULTON I a V "^ (0^ V THE ANCIENT CLASSICAL DRAMA ■V /(f/ \ M \ \ HonDon HENRY FROWDE MACMILLAN AND CO. \ Si, ^^u6g itt Bifetrarg ^vofufion INTENDED FOR READERS IN ENGLISH AND IN THE ORIGINAL BY RICHARD G. MOULTON, M.A. LATE SCHOLAR OF CHRISt's COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY (EXTENSION) LECTURER IN LITERATURE AT THE CLARENDON PRESS '.' ««• *<• • ••• • • r All rights reserved ] r •;•,;: I ^ ••, • ; v ♦ • ' • * • • ' r . *.*•.•• • • " » ••• .• • • • •• 1 'V MiM ) w cc Al ■\ Oxfotb PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS BY HORACE HART. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY \ • • • • • • • • • • > • • • • •• • • « • « • • • « < • • • • « • » • *« « PREFACE. -M- I HAVE Ventured to entitle this work *A Study in Literary Evolution.' It is obvious that some of the familiar processes and results of evolution are to be traced in literature. Within the field of the Ancient Classical Drama we can see a common starting-point from which lines of development extend in various directions; the rise of new literary species, or transi- tional tendencies not amounting to distinction of species ; developments traceable in embryo and on to maturity, with precious links preserving processes of change all but lost ; unstable forms that continually originate lite- rary changes, reversions to type, and survivals of forms long after their raison d'etre has passed away; while the Drama as a whole will present the double process of growth in simplicity from the indefinite to the regular, and the passage from simple to complex. Thus to survey the phenomena of literary development gives a point of view distinct from that of literary history. History is concerned with the sum of individual works produced: evolution takes account only of literary varieties. History will always give prominence to the VI PREFACE, I author, and tends to consider a dramatist's plays as so many steps of achievement in the life-history of the poet. Evolution concerns itself with the works more than with the author ; or rather, it treats a literature as an entity in itself, of which literary works are dis- tinguishing features, and expounds it as a continuous unfolding of new phases by the operation of creative impulse on ever changing environment. But my book has a wider and more practical purpose than this of tracing evolution. It aims at presenting the Ancient Drama from a purely literary standpoint, and addresses itself to readers in English and in the original. Circumstances have given me an exceptional experience in this matter of teaching Ancient literature in translation. Under the Cambridge University Extension scheme I have since 1880 conducted courses of lectures on Ancient Drama in twenty-six different places, addressed to adult audiences, representing all classes of society, in which not one person in ten would know a word of Greek or Latin. Taking my experience as a whole I should rank the Ancient Classics second only to Shakespeare and Goethe as an attractive subject for lectures ; and I may add that the largest audiences I have ever myself had to deal with were in connection with a course on Ancient Tragedy at Newcastle-on-Tyne, where they reached a weekly average of over seven hundred. In all these cases a considerable percentage of the audience did regular exercises in the subject of the lectures, and were tested at the end of the course in a formal PREFACE, Vll examination, with results satisfactory enough to assure the position of this study as part of a general English education. I have spoken of what is within my own cognisance : I am well aware that more distinguished teachers are at work in the same field. With Mr. Arthur Sidgwick to represent it at Oxford, and Mr. Churton Collins among the teachers of London, this enterprise of opening the ancient classics to the ordinary English reader is secure of a favourable trial. I am one of those who believe a knowledge of the ancient classical literatures to be a first requisite of a liberal education. I think it is a mistake to divert attention from these in favour of our own earlier litera- ture. Our true literary ancestors are the Latin and Greek Classics : the old English writers have had less influence in moulding our modern literature than have Homer and Virgil and the Greek dramatists. As a practical teacher of literature I find it almost impossible to give an intelligent grasp of form in Shakespeare to those who are ignorant of Classical Drama, for the first is a multiple of which the latter is the unit. Milton and Spenser construct their poems out of details which were made into literary material by the literatures of the past. The ancient classics constitute a common stock from which the writers of all modern countries draw, and their familiar ideas are the currency in which modern literary intercourse is transacted. The educa- tional problem of the day is to adjust the claims of classical and * modern ' systems. I believe an essential \ . - > VIU PREFACE, point in its solution will be a recognition of the distinc- tion between language and literature : whatever may be ultimately found practicable with reference to the study of the Latin and Greek tongues, the leading productions of Latin and Greek literature will have to be the ground- work of all education that is not content to omit litera- ture altogether. I have also desired to make my book useful to those who read in the original languages, supplementing their other study with a treatment that presents the ancient drama purely as literature. Whatever may be the in- tention of those who direct our higher education, I believe that our study of Latin and Greek is in practice almost exclusively a study of language : the great mass of those receiving a classical education enter upon life with no knowledge of literature or taste for it, while they can be at once interested in science or art. It is of course easy to point out exceptions. But men of the intellectual calibre to make senior classics and double firsts are persons of small importance in educational discussions. It is the average man that tests the system, and with the passmen of our universities, and the still larger number who follow classical studies at school, I believe that the language element of their Classics almost entirely swallows up the element of literature. I do not see how it can be otherwise. The unit in the study of literature is the book or play that to a reader in a dead language means a considerable course of work ; an ordinary student cannot cover the ground fast enough to get the \ I \ PREFACE. IX comparison of work with work and author with author necessary for literary grasp. Thus Classics, to the ordinary student, is a study terribly out of perspective, demanding exactness in minor points yet admitting vagueness in all that is great, tithing the mint and anise and cummin of oratio ohliqiia and second aorist para- digms, but omitting the weightier matters of a poet's conceptions and literary force. It is no revolution that I am contemplating. But where it is customary at present to set, say, two books of Homer or two Greek plays, would it not be possible to set only one for reading in the original, and for the time thus saved to prescribe the whole Odyssey, or a group of plays, to be studied in English, or some such course of reading in ancient and English Classics combined as I suggest in an appendix to this book? Or even in a course of study so ele- mentary as to comprise no more than one Greek or Latin work, I do not see why a definite fraction of it might not be sufficient for study in the original, and the whole, with one or two kindred works, be set for reading in English; the difference between five hundred and a thousand lines for exercise in parsing and construing is not very serious, while the substitute for the other half might be sufficient to at all events awaken a beginner's taste and imagination. Such a change as I advocate would be welcome to a large proportion of both teachers and taught. But some of the most willing among these teachers are from lack of experience at a loss. It is for these I have hoped my book may be useful, in suggest- ) ,^1 X PREFACE, ing what sort of questions need to be taken up and thought out in order to present the ancient drama as literature. The arrangement of the book will, I hope, explain itself. An Appendix contains Tables intended to bring out general lines of development in ancient drama, and the structure of particular plays, more especially in regard to the variations of metrical effect. I fear these Tables have a somewhat forbidding look : but the reader must please understand that a dry appen- dix means so much dry matter kept out of the text. In the Appendix is also a list of suggestions for courses of reading, both in (translated) plays and in English Classics associated with the ancient drama. In order not to break the text with a multitude of references I express here once for all my indebtedness to the various English translators of the Ancient Clas- sical Drama. First and foremost to Dean Plumptre, whose complete versions of Aeschylus and Sophocles (though too expensive for popular classes) are the only means by which the English reader is enabled to appre- ciate the delicate variations of metre in the dramatic scenes which make so important a feature in Greek tragedy. For Euripides I have had to fall back upon the last-century translation of Potter : it is to the disgrace of English scholarship that we have no verse translation of this all-important poet produced in our own day. Potter almost always neglects stage lyrics, and it has been often necessary to alter his lines or retranslate. Of Seneca I PREFACE, XI I r 1 1 know no English version except the antiquated one of Sir Edward Sherborne. Aristophanes is the only case in which there is the distraction of choice. Hookham Frere's renderings of particular plays make him the great pioneer in the opening of Comedy to modern readers. I have drawn copiously from these and from the translation (now out of print) by Rev. L. H. Rudd ; the beautiful version by the latter of the Comus Song in the Frogs I have quoted in full ^. The translations by Mr. Rogers of the Clouds, Wasps, Peace, and above all the Lysistrata, appear to me amongst the greatest feats in translation ever accomplished : I have used them freely, and only regret that they are not made accessible to the general reader. For Plautus and Terence there are only the old translations by Bonnel Thornton and Colman : they are of considerable literary interest, but neglect the distinctions of metre, and it has been often necessary to retranslate. For occasional passages in the various poets I have borrowed from Mr. Morshead's admirable House of Atreus, from the late Professor Kennedy's valuable edition of the Birds, and a notable passage from Robert Browning's version of the Hercides of Eu- ripides. I have never used my own translation where I could get any other that served the purpose. I must also express my obligation to my friend Mr. Joseph Jacobs for reading the proof sheets, and for many suggestions made at various stages of my work. 1 Mr. Rudd omits the Iambic Interlogue altogether : I have supplied it (in iambic metres) as essential to my purpose. / I ^ Xll PREFACE. PREFACE, Xlll I fear, however, that there will be many errors of detail in the book of a kind that only the author can correct, and I wish I could have brought to my task a less rusty linguistic scholarship. RICHARD G. MOULTON. December^ 1889. NOTE. * * * It will be observed that in the stage arrangements of the various plays commented upon I have not adopted the theory of Dorpfeld, which, in the age of Sophocles and Eurip- ides, would abolish the distinction between stage and orchestra. Without in the least underrating the value of the facts brought to light by this eminent discoverer and his coadjutors, I am unable to see that the inferences from them, whatever they may show about the material and permanency of the early stage, prove anything at all as against the separateness of stage from orchestra, while the whole weight of internal evidence from the plays themselves tells in favour of a distinct and elevated stage. On this and all other matters of theatrical antiquities I would refer the reader to Mr. Haigh's valuable work on The Attic Theatre ' : his statement of the controversy and conclusions I entirely accept. * Clarendon Press, 1889: see especially pp. 142-6. K \ REFERENCES. The References in this work are to the original :— to the Cambridge texts of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, to Bergk's text of Aristophanes (which differs from Dindorfs in many points of importance to the literary student), to Fleckei- sen's Plautus and Parry's edition of Terence. Difficulty arises in the case of English readers, for the English versions per- sistently omit any numbering of lines, and thereby greatly reduce the value of the work for purposes of study. The exceptions are the Aeschylus and Sophocles of Dean Plumptre, whir adopt the sensible plan of making the numbering in the margin refer to the lines of the original, not to the translated lines. In the case of the other poets I can only leave the English reader to find the reference by guesswork, and I have been on account of this difficulty the freer in my quotations. A Table (on page 480) will somewhat facilitate references to the trans- lations of Euripides in the Universal Library. \ 'V i CONTENTS, XV § CONTENTS. Origin of Tragedy n. Choral Tragedy: The Story of Orestes in the HANDS OF Aeschylus . III. Choral Tragedy as a Dramatic Species \. Structure of Choral Tragedy . 2. The Lyric Element in Ancient Tragedy 3. Motives in Ancient Tragedy . 4. The Dramatic Element in Ancient Tragedy 5. Extraneous Elements in Choral Tragedy IV. Ancient Tragedy in Transition .... 1 . The Story of Orestes in the hands of Sophocles and Euripides . . . .'' 2. Nature and Range of Transition Itifitietices 3. Instability of the Chorus . . . . 4. Other Lines of Development . . . . V. The Roman Revival of Tragedy . VL Shakespeare's * Macbeth* arranged as an Ancient Tragedy PAGE 05 69 93 124 141 149 173 176 182 25 65 149 203 235 i ( VII. Origin of Comedy VIII. Choral (or Old Attic) Comedy : The ' Birds* of Aris- tophanes IX. Choral (or Old Attic) Comedy as a Dramatic Species 1 . Structure of Choral Comedy 2. The Comic Chorus ..... 3. The suhjcct-tnatter of Aristophanes 4. The Dramatic Element in Old Attic Co?nedy X. Ancient Comedy in Transition 1 . Nature and Range of the Transitioti . 2. Instability of the Cliorus .... 3. Other lines of Devalopment illustrated from Aristophanes ..... XI. PAGE 293 318 321 326 349 350 361 Roman Comedy 1. Roman Comedy as a Dramatic Species . 377 2. The ^ Trinummus* of Plautus . . . 380 3 Traces of the Chorus in Roman Comedy . 397 4. General Dramatic Features of Roman Comedy 410 5. Motives in Romatt Comedy . . . .420 XII. The Ancient Classic and the Modern Romantic Drama 247 271 293 349 377 427 /• \ XVI CONTENTS. APPENDIX. Structure of Particular Plays ^38 Tables Illustrating Development . .-« • • • • 45^ Courses of Reading . . ,^0 450 General Index ... c 403 Index of Plays . 477 Table of References ... .0* x» Origin of Tragedy, B A . H \ h Origin of Tragedy, as a problem in evolu- tion. The origin of Ancient Tragedy is one of the curiosities Chap. I. of literary evolution. On the one hand the assertion is made that the drama of the whole world, so far as it is Hterary drama, is derived from, or at least moulded by, the drama of Greece ; while in Greece itself this form of art reached maturity only among one people, the Athenians. On the other hand, the process of development in such Athenian drama can be carried back in history, by in- telligible stages, to that which is the common origin of all literary art. So defined a root has spread into such wide ramifications : and the process of growth can be surveyed in its completeness. This ultimate origin to which Greek Tragedy traces up is the Ballad-Dance, the fundamental medium out of which all varieties of literature have been developed, — a sort of literary protoplasm. It consists in the combination of speech, music, and that imitative gesture which, for lack of a better word, we are obliged to call dancing. It is very important, however, to guard against modern associations with this last term. Dances in which men and women joined Greek are almost unknown to Greek antiquity, and to say of a ^a^^i^i- guest at a banquet that he danced would suggest intoxication. The real dancing of the Greeks is a lost art, of which the modern ballet is a corruption, and the orator's action a faint survival. It was an art which used bodily motion to convey thought : as in speech the tongue articulated words, so in dancing the body swayed and gesticulated into meaning. It was perhaps the supreme art of an age which was the B 2 The Bal- lad-Dance. h_ / I 4 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY. Chap. L great period of the world for bodily development ; and the degree of perfection to which dancing attained in Greece may be described in the enthusiastic words of Charles Kingsley : A dance in which every motion was a word, and rest as eloquent as motion ; in which ever}' attitude was a fresh motive for a sculptor of the purest school, and the highest physical activity was manifested, not, as in coarse comic pantomimes, in fantastic bounds and unnatural dis- tortions, but in perpetual delicate modulations of a stately and self- sustaining grace. The Bal- It is such dancing as this which united with speech and the common '^"sic to make the Ballad- Dance ; wherever the language originofall oi primitive peoples raises itself to that conscious elevation ? era ure . ^|^ j(,j^ makes it literature, it appears not alone, but sup- ported by the sister arts of music and dance, — a story, or poetical conception, is at one and the same time versified, chanted, and conveyed in gesture. In the case of Miriam's Song of Deliverance the poetical form of her words has come down to us, while the two other elements are supplied by the verse which tells how Miriam ' took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dances.' It was a sacred Ballad-Dance that David danced with all his might before the Lord. Heathen War- Dances, chanting rude defiance with savage gestures, are the same embryonic poetry of races which are to-day passing through the early stage of civilisation traversed by ourselves hundreds, and by the Hebrews thousands, of years ago. the parent And that such a Ballad-Dance is fitted to be the starting- point of all literary progress will be the easier to understand when it is recognised as the natural parent of the three main divisions of poetry. In epic poetry, where thought takes the form of simple narrative, the speech (Greek, epos) of the Ballad-Dance triumphs over the other two elements. Lyric poetry consists in meditation or highly-wrought de- scription taking such forms as odes, sonnets, hymns, — THE BALLAD-DAAXE. 5 of epic. lyriCy [.. poetry that lends itself to elaborate rhythms and other CirAr. I. devices of musical art : here the music is the LJcinenl of the Ballad-Dance which has come to the front. And tlu- ;-llf ''' imitative gesture has triumphed over llic sj)cc( h niul thc/''^^:'' music in the case of the third branch of poetry : drnnia is thought expressed in action. But the Ba]lad-l)an(x« in primitive ;inti(|Mily |o..l< ;in /'/r/.z/V. , / infinite variety of forms, ;is hcin- \\w liolc nudjiim in 'p'/,]"^ . which religious ritual, military display, holiday and social /V/^'- festivity found expression ; this youth of the world literally '''''"'^'■ danced through all ])hascs of its happy life. Only f.neof these Ballad- Dances was destined to develop into drama. 'i'his was the Dithyramb, the dance used in the (esli\al worship of the god Dionysus, i^etter known by the name Bacchus his pet name, if the expressir)i) may he allmved of a god, that is, the name used by his votaries in their invocations. 'J1ie (piestion arises then, what was there in niom->ia. the worship of Dionysus which could serve as for( e suflH ienl V''?'^' ^'''' to evolve out of the universal nallad-Dance the drama as/vv./y ' a special branch of art? !h- '" festivity found expression ; this youth of the woHd literally '''""^'■ danced through all phases of its happy lif,-. Only uuv oV these Ballad-Dances was (hstined to dcvelcp int.. diama. This was the Dithyramb, the dance used in the festival worship of the god J)ionysiis, better known bv the name Bacchus his pet name, \{ the expression ma/ be allowed of a god, that is, the name used by his votaries in their invocations. 'J'he cpiestion arises then, what was there i»i niouysia. the worship of J)ionysus which could serve as forr:e suflif ient ''''''''^P^'" to evolve out of the universal IJallad-Dancc the drama as ^m^'i^^'- a special branch of art? drama: It must be i)rcnnscd that in Creek anticjuity divine worship as a whole shows trac cs of a dramatic character. The ancient temple was not a place of assembly for the worshippers, but was the dwellin- of the god, of whi< 1, the worshippers occupied only the threshold. A sacrifu c was a feast in which the god and his votaries united ; the choicest morsels were cut off and thrown into the fire, the freshly poured wine was spilled on the ground, and' tl.e deity was supposed to feed on the perfume of these while the worshippers fell to on grosser viands. So the 'mysteries' of ancient religion were mystic dramas in which the divine story was conveyed. It is natural to suppose that the most powerful religion would have the most dramatic ritual. Now the worship of ]?acchus was a branch of nature- worship; and in eariy civilisation nature is the great fact \ All ^ \. 6 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY. CnAi'. I. and the main interest for mankind. Moreover tin's worship of the AVinc-god was tlie supreme form of nature-worship. Partly this may have arisen from the circumstances of its introduction ; that it was a late and therefore fashionable cult, that it came tinged with some of tlie oriental excess of the countries through which it had travelled to (;rcere. But the nature of the case is reason sufficient for explaininiz why this celebration of the most dazzling among the gifts of nature should become at all events the most excitini: of religious functions. In modern life all the force of religion is often insufficient to control appetite for vinous ex( ess ; where religion and appetite were on the same side it is no wonder that Dionysiac festivals were orgies of wild excite- ment, l^he worship of Bacchus was a grand Intemperance Movement for the ancient world. Mence the worshii) of Dionysus was foremost in displaying that wildness of emotion in ancient religion which has becjueathcd to as contain- modern language the word 'enthusiasm,' a word which in 's^rms'of '^^ J^tructure suggests how the worsln^pcr is 'filled witli the Passion, god.' Enthusiasm was held as closely akin to madness ; it was an inebriety of mind, a self-abandonment in which enjoyment was raised to the pitch of delirious conscious- ness. Like the Roman Saturnalia, the Italian Carnival, the mediieval Feasts of Unreason, these enthusiastic orgies of ]]acciuis were moral safety-valves, which sought to com- pound for general sobriety and strictness of morals by a short period of unbridled license. I'he chief distinction then of the Dithyramb among the Ballad-Dances was this enthusiasm of which it was the expression. In such wildness of emotion we see the germ of * J»assion,' one of the three elements of which dramatic effect is made up. of Plot, Again : as soon as the worship of Dionysus took the lead among the festivals of nature it betame the form used to convey that which is the great point in primitive religion, sympathy with the changes of the year, ^^•hether in early li 1. ' u DIONYSIAC WORSHIP. 7 or late civilisation the most impressive external experience Chap. I. for mankind is the perpetual miracle of all nature descend- ing into gloom in the winter, to be restored to warmth and brightness in the spring. Modern appreciation, diluted as it is over its myriad topics, cannot hear without a secret thrill the symptoms of the changing year told in language which has served the purpose for thousands of years : For, lo, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give good smell. The worship of Dionysus divided itself equally between the celebration of the vine/ and of the changing year. His festivals marked the four winter months: our December was, in the southern climate of Greece, the month for the Rural Dionysia, a harvest-home for the vintage; in the next month was the Festival of the Wine-press ^ ; the Feast of Flowers ^ was the name given (in February) to the ritual of opening the wine-casks ; while the series was brought to a climax in March by the Greater Dionysia, which celebrated the beginning of spring and the reopening of navigation. Accordingly, the mythic stories of Dionysus had to accom- modate themselves to his connexion with the changing seasons, and became distinguished by the changes of fortune they conveyed. As a rule, the deities of Olympus were loftily superior to human trouble, but in proportion as they became nature deities their legends had to tell of gloom mingled with brightness ; Dionysus so far surpassed them in capacity for change of experience that the 'sufferings of Dionysus' became a proverbial expression — sufferings always a prelude to triumph. Now it is precisely in such ^ Lenaa. ^ Anthesteria. ^V" 1 6 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY, Chap. I. and the main interest for mankind. IVForeovcr this worship of the AVinc-god was the supreme form of nature-worsliip. Partly this may have arisen from the circumstances of its introduction ; that it was a late and therefore fashionable cult, that it came tinged with some of the oriental excess of the countries through which it had travelled to Oreere. But the nature of the case is reason sufficient for explaining why this celebration of the most dazzling among the gifts of nature should become at all events the most cxcitiuL' of religious functions. In modern life all the force of religion is often insufficient to control appetite for vinous excess ; where religion and appetite were on the same side it is no wonder that Dionysiac festivals were orgies of wild excite- ment. The worship of 15acchus was a grand Intemperance Movement for the ancient world. Mence the worshii) of Dionysus was foremost \n displaying that wildness of emotion in ancient religion which has beciueathcd to as(outain- modern language the word * enthusiasm,' a word which in ,lvr;//^V '^•'^ structure suggests how the worshipper is 'filled wiili the Passion, god.' Enthusiasm was held as closely akin to madness ; it was an inebriety of mind, a self-abandonment in which enjoyment was raised to the pitch of delirious conscious- ness. IJke the Roman Saturnalia, the Italian Carnival, the mediieval I'easts of Unreason, these enthusiastic orgies of JJa( chus were moral safety-valves, which sought to com- pound for general sobriety and strictness of morals by a short i)eriod of unbridled license, 'i'he chief distinction then of llie Dithyramb among the Ballad-Dances was this enthusiasm of which it was the expression. In such wildness of emotion we see the germ of ' Bassion,' one of the three elements of which dramatic effect is made up. of Plot, Again : as soon as the worship of Dionysus took the lead among the festivals of nature it betamc the form used to convey that which is the great point in primitive religion, sympathy with the changes of the year. A\hether in early DIONYSIAC WORSHIP. 7 or late civilisation the most impressive external experience Chap. I. for mankind is the perpetual miracle of all nature descend- ing into gloom in the winter, to be restored to warmth and brightness in the spring. Modern appreciation, diluted as it is over its myriad topics, cannot hear without a secret thrill the symptoms of the changing year told in language which has served the purpose for thousands of years : For, lo, the winter is past. The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give good smell. The worship of Dionysus divided itself equally between the celebration of the vine/ and of the changing year. His festivals marked the four winter months: our December was, in the southern climate of Greece, the month for the Rural Dionysia, a harvest-home for the vintage; in the next month was the Festival of the Wine-press ^ ; the Feast of Flowers ^ was the name given (in February) to the ritual of opening the wine-casks ; while the series was brought to a climax in March by the Greater Dionysia, which celebrated the beginning of spring and the reopening of navigation. Accordingly, the mythic stories of Dionysus had to accom- modate themselves to his connexion with the changing seasons, and became distinguished by the changes of fortune they conveyed. As a rule, the deities of Olympus were loftily superior to human trouble, but in proportion as they became nature deities their legends had to tell of gloom mingled with brightness ; Dionysus so far surpassed them in capacity for change of experience that the ^sufferings of Dionysus' became a proverbial expression — sufferings always a prelude to triumph. Now it is precisely in such Leticea. ^ Anthesteria. 8 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY. Chap. T. and of Characler Revolution of A Hon (B.C. 600). The Chorus as contrast- ed with the Dithyramb. change of fortune that we have the germ of 'Plot,' the second great element of dramatic effect. And the third is not far to seek. One form taken by the self-abandonment to Dionysiac excitement was that the worshippers disguised themselves as followers of the god. They coloured their bodies with soot or vermilion, they made use of masks and skins of beasts. If Dionysus stood for nature as a whole, it was easy to personify, as attendants on the deity, the special forms in which nature is known to us ; so the votaries of Bacchus arrayed themselves as Panes (or Spirits of Hunting), as Nymphs and Fauns. Especially popular were the Satyrs, the regular attendants on Bacchus, equally ready to share his misfortunes or his sportive adven- tures : grotesque beings, half men, half goats, suggestive of a gross yet simple sensuality, the sensuality that belongs to a state of nature. It was a noticeable feature of Dionysiac festivals that the worshippers thus imitated, in guise and behaviour, Satyrs and other attendants on the god : and this is nothing else than dramatic * Characterisation.' The answer then to the question, why the worship of Dionysus should be the developing force of drama, is that in different aspects of its ritual are latent germs of the three main elements of dramatic effect — Passion, Plot, Character. Before these slow and universal principles of natural development could culminate in complete Drama they had to be interrupted by a distinct revolution, the work of an historical personage. We have next to consider the Revo- lution of Arion, which consists in the amalgamation of the embryonic drama with fully developed lyric poetry. The revolution is technically expressed by saying that the Dithyramb was made choral. It will be noted that as music holds in the modern world .the position occupied by danc- ing in antiquity, so it has taken over many of the technical terms of the lost art. * Chorus ' is one example amongst many of expressions that convey musical associations to us, /■ REVOLUTION OF ARION. but are terms originally of dancing. The Chorus was the Chap. I most elaborate of the lyric ballad-dances, — lyric, because, though it retained all three elements of speech, music and gesture, yet it was moulded and leavened by music. Its distinctions of form were three. First, its evolutions were confined to a dancing-place or 'orchestra' — another example of a term appropriated l)y music ; in this the Chorus was directly contrasted with the Dithyramb, which was a 'Comus,' or wandering dance. Again, the Chorus was accompanied with th e^lyre. a stringed instrument, unlike the Comus of which the musical accompaniment was the flute. A third distinction of the Chorus was that it was divided into what we call 'stanzas.' But the Greek notion of stanzas was different from ours. In their poetry stanzas ran in pairs. Strophe and Antistrophe ; the metre and evolutions for the two stanzas of a pair were the same down to the minutest gesture, but might be changed altogether for the next pair. An ode was thus performed. The Chorus started from the altar in the centre of the orchestra, and their evolutions took them to the right. This would constitute a Strophe, whereupon (as the word '^troghe' implies) they turned • round and in the Antistrophe worked their way back to the altar again, the second stanza of the pair getting its name because in it the rhythm, gestures and metre of the first were exactly repeated though with different words. A second Strophe, very likely accompanied with a change of rhythm, would take the dancers towards the left of the orchestra, in the corresponding Antistrophe they would retrace their steps to the altar again. The process would be continued indefinitely ; if there was an odd stanza it was performed round the altar, and called an Epode if at the end, or a Mesode if in the middle, of the performance. With such characteristics of form the Chorus represents The two the highest achievement of lyric art. The contrast between ^^^ff^^ it and the Dithyramb reflects the contrast between the two Arion. !f 1/ 10 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY, ( A CHAP. I. national deities to whose worship the dances were conse- crated Apollo, the intellectual god of the stately Dorian and the passionate Dionysus, chief adoration of the excitable lon.c peoples. Arion had connexion with both sides of the contrast. A native of Methymna in Lesbos, which was among the Done states of Greece, and he was moreover wouW roorl''" °!, ''' ''""'' ''^"^ ^^^'y ^-^"^-tions oflt n I I """^ ' '°"" '°' '^' P^^i°"-te freedom of the Dithyramb, while later experience and his specialty as an artist inclined him to the lyric Chorus. Accofd^; when he settled down at the Ionian city of Corinth he r The Dithyramb in his hands was confined to an orchestra U was made atrophic, and was altogether so tranTfo 2 Jand tnf , " "" '''''" ' ^"^"^^ '• O" 'he other a festival ofT' '''""'' ''^ subjecVmatter proper to to?Lt TT' '"'' "'■''• '''' subject-mattir the characterisation of the performers as Satyrs, together with . the exuberance of emotion which had giv^n ^o the o d Dithyramb its chief artistic worth. This hfe-work o^Iri" n .s hu3 „„ „^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ technicalities, but constitutes one r of the most remarkable revolutions in the histoiy of art It was a union between self-discipline and abando^ a ma riai ^emtf' '""'r^ '" ''' ^''^'-^ °f rhythm^mZ ment It was an amalgamation of the stationary and the roving ; ,t gave to the new ritual the full artistic^ntricadel and elevation of the Chorus, while leaving it to re lin it hold on the heart through the sense of sacred re y i-usic, the basis Of moder„Ti:ror:hr:;:::i^ lil'^d^a'^ItrdtLVmem Z;^^^^^^^^^ "•" P-- <>« of the tinguished by florid :!Zta wild ve*"' ''"'°'^' ^'^ '^'=^- "^^ lyX/C TRAGEDY. II the key to orchestration is the combination of stringed with Chap I wind instruments. In the case of Arion we have, six cen- — ' tunes before Christ, an amalgamation effected between two rituals, one of which had been regularly accompanied with a stringed instrument and the other with a wind instrument • had the acoustic knowledge of the age enabled Arion to unite the strings with the wind in the new ritual the history of music might have been rewritten, and Beethoven and Wagner anticipated by centuries. As it was, a stringed accompaniment was used for the Dithyrambic Chorus when It was applied to serious, and a flute accompaniment when It was applied to lighter purposes. How far this event has brought us in our present task Founda- will be seen when it is added that we now reach the word f^ °^ . ■ Tragedy,' which is first applied in antiquity to the reformed "^''■ Dithyramb of Arion. The word, it must be noted, has no suggestion of drama in its signification. ' Tragi ' is an old word for Satyrs; the three letters -. • r \Vhen a sin.ilar imitativencss J.s n ' '''''''^''- "■^'- '■ of the stage,_chiefly owinT,; IL"'''"' .'" '''' ^'--'O "-- '■•ve b, Agatharehn.s.-theOroc ;;.';;■:"""' "[ "^■^^"- «';;PM for the vivid prcsentatio n r^ """""■-^'"^ One <,nest,„n ren.nins • „.|„,r„ ,, "" vc'lo/m.ent st,,,, .,nd „,„,„ -^ '""^ "'-• l-'.'<« -f ,1,. ,■.,„„,,„.,. gradually becoming n.orc -in,! ' ', ""'='"■'"> 'v'i, ..„hI :' ""- ;- -lied d«n,ap' Tra:! T ' i""^"- -""-' "' '-- l^e called drama? The answer t,. .1 ' '"""'" " -insntr to thrs (|ueslion is dear '■"'"•'"'"/ IS iiersomi,.,! ,. "i:-(Ih':,„. Originally the Chorus per o ","/« "?• •'''^■■^'-" '^ <•--■ Satyrs, and the like J V I ! ""^-^'"I'Pcrs of l!a, ,.|„,s. 'fke their charaeteiisa,' :::;''"- "->• '-- ".n,e ,0 , "'■■« ".ey are in.lividual per' , ;,^";7 " "'- "'■'> ■ "- -present a nan.eless U TtJ^f"" T'' ''"' '''''^ I hero, or casual spectators'of the t ^ " ""• that pent, whatever n,av have ('^'"^'rayed. .\l Chorus ceased to take ,1 ei 7"" "' '''''' "'•^■^^' "'<•• festival and hegan ,0 \\v \ "'•■•'^•^^■'-^'■^•^t'-n fr,.„, „,, J-gedy was tcconVhi. "'i';' "•^' ^'O- -he ori.n ,„- douWeness of for.n, l,'- ", ' """""^'l lo l,,,e ,, ''■•"on "" the action ,,, •■';;" '": ' ••"""" -' -ed, formers were then,selves take , ," ', "'"'■ ""-' '-"''^ /'^-^ '-d-tated in an assunu^l • , l' ;' "^ ""■"■^'- ""><. -'< element was itself dra.na.ise I a ,1 r ",""''' ""' '>"' drama. "'-"' ■^'"' ' ragedy had heronu- f'h •-• '-^tent elen,en, of ,n ' , """, '^ ^""" -"'-ly lyri-, ";o;gh with a lyric chorul ;; , :" ^'■'■-O •'-■.■.'„, of dramatic effect. In the procesT '""',"'""" '■'""''""^•'" have concentrated in i.self 2 ' ^f^' '"'■'>■ '"-■ ^^en ,0 "•'erature.. fr„„, ., I>r 1 r :""," ''""'''- "^-oeti,. ofl-shoot, epic poe,rv g ve t '"""^"^•^' ^ 'h.""a,ic 'he „,etre for its dial.C., iT^M ,'"' '''"'' ^"--"ed ''ow Tragedy, so deve,;peda:;d:rr:2,.;"'''-^'-'' "^ such ingredient.s, V i6 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY, Chap. I. its permanent scene of stonework, its narrow stage, capacious orchestra, and auditorium large enough to contain the population of a city. More complex figures for the dance enabled Tragedy to keep pace with advance in choral art. And an increased splendour of outward setting became an artistic medium for giving expression to the primitive wildness of Bacchic orgies. But the more noticeable changes in the later development of Tragedy are those which increase its dramatic capacity. By far the most ^Ts^ d ^"^P^^^^'^^ °^ *^^^^ ^^ ^^^ adaptation to an organ of poetic /«/?«/«r^^/^^P^^ssion more in harmony with dialogue than the lyric ^th%^ ^" ^"^ ^P^^ metres used for it originally. This was afforded rama. ^^ gatire, which had, partly from the nature of the case and partly through the genius of its first great master, Archilochus, separated itself very rapidly from the original form of the Ballad-Dance, and early developed that iambic metre which may be called the * Blank Verse' of Greek poetry \ that is, the metre approaching most nearly to prose. As these iambic satires were, Hke epic poems, recited by rhapsodists, their metrical form easily found its way into «wT ? ^^^ dialogues of Tragedy. Again, the successors of Thespis "IpIUking increased the number of actors to two, three, or even four. It must be understood that the .number of actors affects only the number of personages on the stage speaking in the same scene; each actor could take different parts in different scenes, and the number of mute personages was unlimited. Once more, the costume and masks of the actors, by means 7ndsuZry.^^ ^'^^^^ *^^y v^"^^ ^^^i^ P^^s, became in time more and more imitative of the character presented, and less and less * This metre, the Iambic Senarius, or Iambic Sixes, closely resembles English Blank Verse, differing from it, indeed, only by the addition of a single Iambic foot. How sweet | the moon- I light sleeps | up- on I this bank ( O tek- ) na tek- | na sphon | men est- j i dee | do- mos As to Satire and Archilochus, see below, page 249. actors. Realism T^YRIC TRAGEDY j^au V nr ^ nr . ^^z- i Dh AM A TISLJ), n of the stage-chiefly owin'tHh "'•' "' ''' "-^""> ^" "'Sr '" '"-^ "^•'■'^ i'-e„ta,t ^n^J--*^ ""-'^"^'^ <>nc.,uest,on re,nni„s: uhrr. ,1,,,. , gradually becoming more an.l '^ ''>; '■"'■•'"•''1) h«. ;„„i;''/- '« called dm„.a?'Tran,;e ":'",; •■"''■■'''■'■ ^""■""' '''''^■''-' Originally the Chorus i.crsono., . ,' 'l"'-''*Kon is clear 'f''™ "/ Satyrs, and the like J , ^ ' ""^■^'"I'l'crs of l!a.c:hus, "'""•""■ 'ake their chanu^tc^isat . T''': """'^ "•^>- '-- '-"e ,o ''- they are individu:;.::;,:^'^ represent a na„,elcss I odv oT ''"'""■ '"" "'^v hero, or casual spectatosoV '""''■'"' '"'""' "' ">«• that point, whateL ; , '"■ "'T """^'^•^>^"- ■^' Chorus ceased to takj ,1 " ''" ^ '''''' "'"•■^^- "'e ^-tiva. and hegan to L'Trr:^ZT''"] '"'" •"^' ' jragedy was accon,,,lishe,l "^'' ""•' "''^'" "< doubleness of f„,„, ,|,,„„. . ,, -'"-ed ,., ,„,„, ,., tat.on on the action- |„„ ,, , ' "' •'"""" •'""' mc'l, formers were then.sel es t^ko , ." ', "''" ""-' '>^''^ 1'^'^ -editated in an assun^V ■ , ^ ^ "^ """••^"'- """■ ■-."'■ element was itself dra.na.isJd . , , " ',"""'' "'^ '>"'^ drama. "■"' "'"> ' ragcdy hnd heromo evXL^^f 'I^tf- j;;^^^^^^ .nay „,,, „„ .,, ,., J 7" a latent eleuK-nt of £ ' ' ""l ■'' '""" entirely lyne. ";ough with a lyric choru 'i t's m s T'" ""'"'> "^•""•"•■' • of dramatic elTect. ,n the proL - -'r?'""'' ''"'"'■"-■' have concentrated in i.sel tl e ',,• ^ >' 'T '" ^^"" '" hterature : from a lyrie sto k i !""''"' "^ '"'e'" offshoot, epic poe,rv\,a ve rt ''."'"' ■'' "''"''^''^ the metre for its dial^c. "2 ^ """ '"^"'^'-^ ^o-^agedy,sodeve^,eda;d::^:2---; i. I —r i8 ORIGIN OF TRAGEnV. ( Cmap. I. should come to be the main h'terary interest of (Jrccce and the natural channel for its best thought. l/lufr''''^' 1'he actual poetry in which these different stages of /fo"["' Tragedy could be traced has long ago perished: for ilhis- A:c'W,/ tralions we are com[)ellcd to fall back upon our irnnJMnatinn. - ' Avoidmg subjects of existing dramas, I select the legend of Lycurgus. Told in outline the traditional story would run thus. Lycurgus, a Thracian king, was fiercely resolved that the Bacchic worship should never be introduced into his dominions. When in his journeys to extend his worship Bacchus himself came, in mortal guise, to Lycurgus's country, the king attempted to arrest the stranger, who escaped him and leaped into the sea. Then the god sent a plague on the country, and madness on the king himself, who in his distraction slew his own son, and afterwards himself perished miserably.— I propose to trace, in imagina- tion, this story through the principal forms assumed by Tragedy in the course of its development. "jyat^^dy.'' ^^^^^^ Tragedy maintains its purely lyric form, no theatre is required beyond the simple orchestra. The Chorus appear as Satyrs in honour of Dionysus, to whose glory the legend is a tribute; they maintain throughout the combination of chant, music, and dance. With the solemn rhythm and stately gestures of choral ritual they lead off to the praise of Bacchus. They sing his glorious birth from love and the lightning flash, his triumphant career through the world to establish his worship, before which all resist- ance went down, as Pentheus driven mad might testify, and Damascus flayed alive. With awe they meditate on the terrible thought of mortals resisting the gods, most terrible of all when the resistance seems to be successful ! So it was with Lycurgus :— and the music (juickens and the gestures become animated as the Chorus describe a strange portent, a god fleeing before a mortal man ! In ever increas- IMA GINAR Y ILL USTRA TION. 19 ing crescendo they depict the scene, and how the mortal Chap 1 gams on the god ; till at last the agitation becomes uncon- troUable, and the Chorus breaks into two Semichoruses which toss from side to side of the orchestra the rapid dialogue :— What path is this he has taken ?-Is it the path to the precipice ?— Can a god be other than omniscient ?— Can a mortal prevail against a deity ?— So the dance whirls on to a climax as the fugitive is pictured leaping from the precipice into the sea below. The Semichoruses close into a circle again, and with the smoothest rhythms and most flowing gestures the Chorus fancy the waves parting to receive the god, softly lapping him round as a garment, and gently conveying him down to the deep ; there the long train of Nereids meets him, and leads him in festal proces- sion to the palaces of the sea : you can almost catch the muffled sound of noisy revelry from the clear, cool, green depths. The music takes a sterner tone as the Chorus go on to the thought that the god's power can act though he be absent ; and in minor cadences, and ever drearier and drearier gestures, they paint a land smitten with barrenness, —no clouds to break the parching heat, vegetation drooping, and men's hearts hardening. The dance quickens again as the theme changes to Lycurgus's futile rage : friends inter- pose, but he turns his anger on them, clear omens are given, but he reads them amiss. More and more rapid become the evolutions, until in thrilling movements is painted the on-coming madness ; and when, in the midst of his mad fit, they realise Lycurgus meeting his son, again the agitation of the Chorus becomes uncontrollable, and a* second time they break into semichoric dialogue :— What means the drawn sword ?— What the wild talk of hewing down the vines of Bacchus ?-Is it his son he mistakes for a vine ?— Ah, too late !— The dance subsides with the calm- ness that comes on the king when he awakes too late to his deed ; and from this calmness it quickens to a final climax c 2 i8 ORIGIN OF tragi: n v. V / CiiAr. I should come to be the main h'terary interest of (Jrocre :[m\ the natural channel for its best thought. n'iufr'"'^' ^^^ actual poetry in which these different stages of tiJn:'" Tragedy could be traced has long ago perished: for ilhis- l,'t:ni,lof tralions we are compelled to fall back \\\Mm our irnnrination. ' * Avoidmg subjects of existmg dramas, I select the legend of I^ycurgus. Told in outline the traditional story would run thus. Lycurgus, a Thracian king, was fiercely resolved that the Bacchic worship should never be introduced into his dominions. When in his journeys to extend his worship Bacchus himself came, in mortal guise, to Lycurgus's country, the king attempted to arrest the stranger, who escaped him and leaped into the sea. Then the god sent a plague on the country, and madness on the king himself, who in his distraction slew his own son, and afterwards himself perished miserably.— I propose to trace, in imagina- tion, this story through the principal forms assumed by Tragedy in the course of its development. "iVa^cdy!' ^^^^^^ Tragedy maintains its purely lyric form, no theatre is required beyond the simple orchestra. The Chorus appear as Satyrs in honour of Dionysus, to whose glory the legend is a tribute; they maintain throughout the combination of chant, music, and dance. With the solemn rhythm and stalely gestures of choral ritual they lead off to the praise of Bacchus. They sing his glorious birth from love and the lightning flash, his triumphant career through the world to establish his worship, before which all resist- ance went down, as Pentheus driven mad might testify, and Damascus Hayed alive. With awe they meditate on the terrible thought of mortals resisting the gods, most terrible of all when the resistance seems to be successful ! So it was with Lycurgns :— and the music ciuickens and tiie gestures become animated as the Chorus describe a strange portent, a god fleeing before a mortal man ! In ever increas ,-' / IMA GINAR Y ILL USTRA TION, 19 ing crescendo they depict the scene, and how the mortal Chap. 1. gams on the god ; till at last the agitation becomes uncon- trollable, and the Chorus breaks into two Semichoruses which toss from side to side of the orchestra the rapid dialogue :— What path is this he has taken ?-Is it the path to the precipice ?— Can a god be other than omniscient ?— Can a mortal prevail against a deity ?— So the dance whirls on to a climax as the fugitive is pictured leaping from the precipice into the sea below. The Semichoruses close into a circle again, and with the smoothest rhythms and most flowing gestures the Chorus fancy the waves parting to receive the god, softly lapping him round as a garment, and gently conveying him down to the deep ; there the long train of Nereids meets him, and leads him in festal proces- sion to the palaces of the sea : you can almost catch the muffled sound of noisy revelry from the clear, cool, green depths. The music takes a sterner tone as the Chorus go on to the thought that the god's power can act though he be absent ; and in minor cadences, and ever drearier and drearier gestures, they paint a land smitten with barrenness, —no clouds to break the parching heat, vegetation drooping, and men's hearts hardening. The dance quickens again as the theme changes to Lycurgus's futile rage : friends inter- pose, but he turns his anger on them, clear omens are given, but he reads them amiss. More and more rapid become the evolutions, until in thrilling movements is painted the on-coming madness ; and when, in the midst of his mad fit, they realise Lycurgus meeting his son, again the agitation of the Chorus becomes uncontrollable, and a* second time they break into semichoric dialogue :— What means the drawn sword ?— What the wild talk of hewing down the vines of Bacchus ?-Is it his son he mistakes for a vine ?— Ah, too late !— The dance subsides with the calm- ness that comes on the king when he awakes too late to his deed ; and from this calmness it quickens to a final climax c 2 ^ 20 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY. IMAGINARY ILLUSTRATION, 21 Chap. I. as it suggests the people inflamed by the god, the crowd of Bacchanals pouring in, the cries for vengeance on the king, the tearing by wild horses. Then, returning to their first strains, the Chorus repeat their reverence for the gods, whose might is irresistible ! Adapted to Taking next an early transition stage, we shall find the Tragedy in , variation in the performance required is the suspension a transition ^ J ^ 1 1 i_ stage. of the dance at intervals to admit of dialogue between the Leader and the rest of the Chorus. These dialogues would be mainly speeches by the Leader, who would personate for the moment one or other of the characters in the legend, and thus develop new scenes for realisation by the Chorus in a lyric form. After the general opening, we can imagine a pause while the Leader assumes the part of Lycurgus, and solemnly forbids the worship of the new deity. The Chorus resume the dance with agitation at the thought of a contest between their king and their new god. The dance stops again for the Leader to speak as a messenger, answering the eager enquiries of the Chorus by relating the god's leap into the sea : whereupon this deUverance is lyrically celebrated, and the scene beneath the waves pictured. Later on the Leader might take the character of a seer, and foretell a plague of barrenness, which the ode would lament when it resumed. Once more he might be a messenger, describing in narrative the closing scenes of the story, and the repetition of these in passionate action would make a lyrical climax. If the legend is to be presented in the form of Tragedy fully developed, the theatre must include besides the orchestra a stage fitted with more or less of scenery ; the Chorus will personate Subjects of Lycurgus ; the perform- ance will consist of alternate episodes by actors on the stage and odes by the Chorus in the orchestra : moreover, the general treatment of the story must at once maintain rational sequence of events, and show contrivance sufficient As a com- plete Tragedy. 1 1 to minister to our sense of plot. By way of prologue. Chap. I. Lycurgus might appear upon the stage, announcing his intention of extirpating the new worship, and having the innovator who has introduced it torn by wild horses. In agitated march a Chorus of Lycurgus' s Subjects enter tJie orchestra, expressing their hopes that they niay be in time to remonstrate with their rash king. The lyric rhythm changes to blank verse for the first episode, when a Soldier of the Guard, speaking from the stage, tells, in answer to the enquiries of the Chorus-Leader, how the king ordered the arrest of the mysterious stranger, and how, when the guard, believing him to be a god, hesitated, Lycurgus himself advanced to make the arrest : the god escaped from him and leaped into the sea. An ode folloivs, which is a burst of relief and elaborately pictures the reception of the fugitive god by the deities of the sea. The interest is again transferred to the stage as a Seer enters, and, calling for Lycurgus, tells a vision he has had that the land is to be smitten with famine. He is going on to tell of yet another woe, but the king will not hear him, and drives him forth as a corrupt prophet. Left to themselves, the Chorus cha?it the woes of a land sjuitten with barrenness. Countrymen next appear on the stage, come (by a violation of probabilities in time not uncommon in Greek Tragedy) to tell of the famine that has already begun, and how all vegetation is mys- teriously withering. Lycurgus treats this as part of a general conspiracy to rebel ; when his son attempts to mediate, the father turns his passion against him. Gradually it becomes evident that the king has been smitten with madness, and he chases his son from the stage to slay him. In great agitation the Chorus divide into parties : one party is for hurrying to the rescue, the rest are irresolute. Inaction prevails, and the Chorus settling down to a regular ode develop the story of Pentheus, and similar stories of tnortals who have resisted the gods and been S7nitten with madness. / f 22 ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY. AP^T. In the next episode Lycurgus enters, heartbroken: the fit has passed from him, and he knows the deed he has done. In his humihation he sends for the Seer, to hear the rest of the vision. The Seer says that the woe he was hmdered from revealing was the sight of Lycurgus himself torn by wild horses. This brings back the kftig's rage ; he seizes the prophet, and declares that he shall himself die by the death he has denounced. T/ie Chorus are too much overawed by the dear hand of destmy to interpose : they sing the infatuation of those whom the gods are about to destroy This brings us to the finale, in which a messenger relates, in a long epic narrative, the scene of Lycurgus attempting to carry out his sentence on the Seer, and how the wild horses turned on the king, and tore him to pieces. While the Chorus are lamenting, Bacchus appears as a god, takes the curse of barrenness off the land, and establishes his worship as an institution for all time. IL Choral Tragedy. The ^ Story of Orestes ' in the hands of Aeschylus. 11. In prcscnlini^r a spcrinun of Ancient 'rni^^ody .ms fully Cum-, ii. clevelo[)cd, it may he well to recall to the reader some of the more important points as to which he must divest his mind of moflern associations, if he is to appreciate the (ireek stage. To begin with, as the drama was not an enter- tainment, hut a solemn national and religious festivnl, so the tragic plots were not invented, hut like the Miracle I'lavs of the Middle Ages were founded on the traditional stories of religion. Thus the sacred legends which enter into the Orestes of Aeschylus would be familiar to the whole audience in outline. IViey air couccnnul ivilJi flic icocs of the /fojfse of Afrrus : Mmionnt ihe foundation of them laid I>\ Atreus hinise/f, 7vJicn, to take '^"!" ^^ , J ■ 1 ' 1 r.,j ' J '^'liat tilt revenj^e on /us /'rot tier J/iyestes, he served uf to him at a haiKjuet auiiiouc ;- the flesh of his oivn sons : su/^/^oud to 11 IS \:^randso)is ivere A<;amemnon and Afenehins : Mmr lujoyrhnu.! laus's wife, Ifehn, 7vas stohn aivay l>y a truest , Paris of Troy, whieh caused the i;reat Trojan liar: Ai^amcmnon, -iuho hd the (ireek nations in that war, fretting at the contiary winds ichieh de/ayed the scttin<:; out oj the fleet, 7vas persuaded ly the Seers to slay his oivn daughter, Iphigenia, to appease the Deities : Her mother, C/yticmnestra, treasured up this wrong ail through the ten years' war, and slew Agamemnon on his return^ in the moment of victory, sleic him while in his lath by casting a net over him and smiting him to death with her own arm : II. In presenting a spcrinicn of Anciml 'rmgcdy ns fully Cum. fi. cleveloi)ccl, it may he well to recall to the reader some of the more iini)ortant points as to which he must divest his mind of modern associations, if he is to np|)recinte the Orcek stage. To begin with, as the drama was not an efiler- tainmcnt, but a solemn national and religious festival, so the tragic plots were not invented, but like the Miracle Tlays of the Middle Ages were founded on the traditional stories of religion. Thus the sacred legends which enter into the Orestes of Aeschykis would be fann'liar to the whole audience in outline. IViey are couarucd with the icoes of the /foitse of Atrcus .- M,moy,ni the fouudatiou of them hud t>y Atreus hiuise/L ivhcu, to take '^^'!" ^^ revcjti^e on his t> rot her Jhyestes, he served up to him at a l>a)i(juet auJicme is the flesh of his oivn sous : sii/^f^o^,;i t,^ Ills i^rafidsous were Axamemuofr and AfenehTus : Afvne hrjoyehnn.!. iaus's wife, Ifehn, was stohii away ly a truest, Paris of 'I'roy, 7ohieh ea used the ji^feat 'rrojau liar: Agamemnon, who kd the (hrek nations in that war, fretting at the eontrary winds whieh dehiyed the setting out oj the fleet, 7vas persuaded ly the Seers to slay his oicn daughter, Iphigenia, to appease the Deities : Her mother, Clytirmnestra, treasured up this 7vrong all through the ten years' war, and slew Agamemnon on his return, in the monicjit of victory, sle-w him while in his bath by casting a net over him and smiting him to death ivith her own arm : I 26 t-'lIAP. II ciioKAr. TRAcr.nr. ~ ,, ^'""f" '■''S'-^'i i" tnn,„/,h with Acnslhu. ,, .. , {'nnnc/fonc of ll,c fatal hoL) ti/l ^ 7 >■/•'"""•""> i-ccn n.a.cd as an infant nL is ^^ 'Z' '''"" '""' -'";:fc^^Uastan,Ltd!;£!!'!' ""^ ^''""■^'^'^■■'•"'• "'ey say, /.. ,„„ ,/,„;,,^ J 1;^;^^ ^"-"s, on Afars Hi, Cassandra too 7Vas involved in the fall of 1 Trojan princess beloved of aZ, / ^ ^'i'"""'"^'on .■ t/u- of a God can I. recalle^t^ ^ ^'I^' ff" ' -"'• - kO' that her true fn..> ^- "■'''"■'^ '' i'">P>"^'<:ss, with the do.,,,, '''^" -'^ti^itj., a,,dto tlfty, ''' '""' */"'^/"/ died. "' "J -'^''''''^'''''on, wit'i whom she The name of Orestes won Id earrv with // , c /"■oz'erl,ial ficndshi/, hetwee, n ? '"-^^"tton of tlu spectacular crrccts nn cV. , ^' *^"^^ ^idniittinjT of - -ong anci n^r^r^.^f t^^'^^ ■''^ ^'^'■■'' -^'"^ ^^ ^ "•e Tl.jnKic or Altar of W ""'"'""' ''"''"■•^'"- «'"' '-.ly. he .should r n. . xrcr'' r"°" '■" "■^- ^^"'- so much rcsonhlo our „,od , "•"'' "■•''«^''>' ''"^'^ '"- finitely, it consists of dr.nn^^ ' "'"=''• ^^' '"-- d- »"ernating w„h lyric o^^ ' "'" T '"' "' ""-" ^'•'>=- porfonncd with all the subtle ,.""'" .°^^'"^-''" •• "'-se odes, 'ost art which enchai i' " l^^^'^"^.^"""' -'"al-that ;--, chant, and imitativ ges ' he ^'"■"'"■"'''""" "^ the poetry of sound nnri Th ^' ''°'-'''>' "'' "o^^s, into one. ' ''"'' "^^ P°<^try of motion, fused THE AGAMEMNON. \ 27 J he 'Story of Orestes' is . .-ist l.y Acs, hylus in the form r.,.M. ir of a trilogy^-three plays .levelopin^ a single M-ri, s of ;nts. The first i)lay, acted in early morning, is entill,d even Ar,AM?:MNON. The permanent scene is dc. orrUc.l to represent the fn- ,„!,. of M,„ xrc. Agamemnon's palace at Argos ; the si.le s.ene on the ri..|,t ' l''^^- ' shows the nefghbouring ,i.y, that on th,- l,ft s„..K.s(s"^,lis •'' v '""'" tance. A portion of the high bal<-ony immaliaiciy ,k., tl„. great central gates app.ears as a watch tower. At inter^als along the front of ,|,e |,ala, c are s(:,t„cs of g„,ls, rsp.rinllv Zeus, Apollo, llcnnes. The time is s„ppo;,d to b,- „i..|,', vergmg on morning, whi< h would fairly agree with the time of representation. At the con.menrcmcnt, both or, bcslri and stage are v.a.ant : only a Walchn.an is discovrred on the tower, leaning on his elbow ,n,d gaxing into |f,e diM.m-e Ihe Watchman opens the play by solilo,|uising on his /■ „,, „ odsome task of standing sentinel all night through and lookn,g for the first sight of tlu.. sign.d whi.h is to ,e|l ,1,^ capture of Troy. He |,as kept his ,,ost for years, nniil the constellations which usher in winter a.ul harvest-tide are his familiar companions ; he must endure weather and sleep- lessness, and when he would sing to keep up his spirits he IS checked by the tho.,ght of his absent master's household in which, he darkly hints, things are 'not well' lie is settling himself into an e.rsier posture, when sud.lenly he springs to his feet. The bea.on fire at last! lie shouts the signal agreed upon, ■.^..X begins dancing for joy. Now all will be well ; a little while and his hand shall touch the dear hand of his master; and then- ah! the weight of an ox IS on his tongue, but if the house h.ad a voice it could tel a tale ! The ^\■atchman disappears, to carry the tidings to the Queen. ^ * The spectators' liglit. ( 28 CHORAL TRAGLDY. Chap. IT. Parode, or Chorus- entry. As if roused by the shout, the Chorus appear in the orchestra : twelve Elders of Argos, moving in the usual processional order that combines music, chanting, and gesture-dance to a rhythm traditionally associated with marching. They enter by the right passage, as from the city, and the processional chant takes them gradually round the orchestra towards the Thymele, or Altar of Dionysus, in the centre. In this chorus-entr>% and the ode to which it leads up, the poet is bringing before our minds the sacrifice of Iphi- genia, which is the foundation on which the whole trilogy rests. They have an obscurity which is one of the artistic effects of the piece, as striking the keynote of the action,— a tone of triumph through which is ever breaking vague apprehension of evil, increasing till it finds its justification in the catastrophe. So here, the Chorus, hastening to enquire the meaning of the tumult, are swayed opposite ways, by their expectation of the triumph over Troy, which cannot be far distant now, combined with misgiving, as to misfortunes sure to come as nemesis for the dark deed connected with the setting out of the expedition. They paint the grand scene of that starting for Troy, now ten years ago: the thousand vessels in the harbour, and on shore the anny shouting fiercely the cry of war,— E'en as vultures shriek, who hover, Wheeling, whirling o'er their eyrie, In wild sorrow for their nestlings, With their oars of stout wings rowing. But this simile of birds crying to heaven suggests the ven- geance this expedition was going to bring on Troy : the Many conflicts, men's limbs straining, When the knee in dust is crouching, And the spear-shaft in the onset Of the battle snaps asunder. Already the bias of the Chorus towards misgiving leads THE AGAMEMNON, 29 \ them to contrast that brilliant opening of the expedition Chap ii with the shadow of a dark deed that was so soon to plunge It in gloom. But as things are now, so are they, So as destined, shall the end be. At this point the song is interrupted. The Chorus reachmg the altar, turn towards the stage. Meanwhile the great central gate of the stage has opened, and a solemn procession filed out, consisting of the Queen and her At- tendants, bearing torches and incense and offerings for the gods ; they have during the choral procession silently ad- vanced to the different statues along the front of the palace made their offerings and commenced the sacrificial rites' When the Chorus turn towards the stage the whole scene IS ablaze with fires and trembling with clouds of incense rich unguents perfume the whole theatre, while a solemti religious ritual is being celebrated in dumb show The Chorus break off their cham to enquire what is the mean- ing of these solemn rites. The Queen signifies by a gesture that the ritual must not be interrupted by speech The Chorus then proceed to take their position at the altar, as If for a choral ode : but, pausing awhile before traversing the orchestra in their evolutions, they sing a prelude'- /.../„^, . restlessness before actual motion-swaying from side to side but not as yet quitting their position at the altar. They have been shut out from the war itself (they resume).,...^ but old age has left them the suasive power of song • and they can tell of the famous omen seen by the two kings and the whole army as they waited to embark— two eagles on the left, devouring a pregnant hare. Sing a strain of woe. But may the good prevail ! • We have no distinct information as to the evolutions of a prelude • 'tt '^^ll^t^^-ggf «d^g-«^ with the necessities of the case in the Pre- lude of the third play (page 55). 30 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap. II. And the prophet Calchas interpreted : they shall lay Troy ; low, but let them beware of the coddcss who hates the strofhc eagle ! Sing a strain of woe, But may the good prevail ! e/^iHh: May some healer avert her wrath, lest she send delays on the impatient host, and irritate them to some dread deed, some sacrifice of children that might haunt the house for ever ! Sing a strain of woe, IJut may the good prevail I Entry Ode. This description of splendid spectacle so soon eclipsed by dark forebodings has accentuated the conflict of emotions in the breasts of the Chorus, until they cast off restraint, and break into a full choral ode : sweeping with the evolu- tions of each strophe to the right or left of the altar, and in each antistrophe measuring back their way step for step and rhythm for rhythm. This change marks a change of thought. It must be Zeus — the Supreme, before whom all other gods gave way — it must be Zeus alone who shall lift from their mind this cloud of anxiety. Zeus leads men to wisdom by his fixed law, that pain is gain ; instilling secret care into their hearts, it may be in sleep, he forces the un- willing to yield to wiser thoughts. So this anxiety of theirs may be from the irresistible gods, the way they are being led, through pain, to a wise knowledge of justice. As if relieved by this burst of prayer the Chorus resume the history: how Agamemnon, not repining but tempering himself to the fate which smote him, waited amidst delay and failing stores ; and the contrary winds kept sweeping down from the Strymon, and the host was being worn out with frettings, and the prophet began to speak of one more charm against the wrath of Artemis, though a bitter one to the Chiefs. At last the king spoke : great woe to disobey the prophet, yet great woe to .slay my child ! how shed a and nnti- strophe 1 strophe miif nn'i- strophe 3 sty.phf ami anti- itrophe THE AGAMEMNON, 31 and anti- strophe maiden's blood? yet how lose my expedition, my allies? Chap. The Chorus have now reached their fourth strophe, and the full power of Aeschylus is felt as they describe the ' '^"^'^^ steps of fatal resolution forming in the distracted father's breast : he feels himself harnessed to a yoke of unbending fate— a blast of strange new feeling sweeps over his heart and spirit— his thoughts and purpose alter to full measure of all daring— base counsel becomes a fatal frenzy— he hardens his heart to slay. All her prayers and eager callings On the tender name of father, All her young and maiden freshness They but set at nought, those rulers, In their passion for the battle. And her father gave commandment To the servants of the goddess, When the prayer was o'er, to lift her, Like a kid, above the altar. In her garments wrapt, face downward,— Yea, to seize with all their courage, And that o'er her lips of beauty Should be set a watch to hinder Words of curse against the houses, With the gag's strength silence-working. And she upon the ground Pouring rich folds of veil in saffron dyed, Cast at each one of those that sacrificed A piteous glance that pierced, Fair as a pictured form, And wishing, — all in vain, — To speak, for oftentimes In those her father's hospitable halls She sang, a maiden pure with chastest song. And her dear father's life That poured its three-fold cup of praise to God, Crowned with all choicest good. She with a daughter's love Was wont to celebrate. The Chorus will pursue the scene no further. But their ««^««//- anxious doubt has now found a resting-place on their faith '^'^'^^' II. ) 1/ 5 strophe I 30 CHORAL TRAGEDY, \ strophe and nnti- strophe a strophe nmf nft'i- strophe 3 strjphe a)iif nnti strophe CiiAp. n. And the prophet Calchas interpreted : they shall lay Troy^ • '. low, but let them beware of the coddcss who hates thcit strophe eagle ! >'. Sing a strain of woe, HfeL But may the good prevail I l^^^r epodc. May some healer avert her wrath, lest she send delays on the impatient host, and irritate them to some dread deed, some sacrifice of children that might haunt the house for ever ! Sing a strain of woe, IJut may the good prevail 1 Entry Ode. This description of splendid spectacle so soon eclipsed by dark forebodings has accentuated the conflict of emotions in the breasts of the Chorus, until they cast off restraint, and break into a full choral ode : sweeping with the evolu- tions of each stroi)he to the right or left of the altar, and in each antistrophe measuring back their way step for step and rhythm for rhythm. This change marks a change of thought. It must be Zeus — the Supreme, before whom all other gods gave way — it must be Zeus alone who shall lift from their mind this cloud of anxiety. Zeus leads men to wisdom by his fixed law, that pain is gain ; instilling secret care into their hearts, it may be in sleep, he forces the un- willing to yield to wiser thoughts. So this anxiety of theirs may be from the irresistible gods, the way they are being led, through pain, to a wise knowledge of justice. As if relieved by this burst of prayer the Chorus resume the history: how Agan^.emnon, not repining but tcm|)cring himself to the fate which smote him^ waited amidst delay and failing stores ; and the contrary winds kept sweeping down from the Strymon, and the host was being worn out with frettings, and the prophet began to speak of one more charm against the wrath of Artemis, though a bitter one to the Chiefs. At last the king spoke : great woe to disobey the prophet, yet great woe to slay my child ! how shed a THE AGAMEMNON, 31 and anti- strophe maiden's blood ? yet how lose my expedition, my allies ? Chap. II. The Chorus have now reached their fourth strophe, and the full power of Aeschylus is felt as they describe the ' ''"^'^^ steps of fatal resolution forming in the distracted father's breast : he feels himself harnessed to a yoke of unbending fate— a blast of strange new feeling sweeps over his heart and spirit— his thoughts and purpose alter to full measure of all daring— base counsel becomes a fatal frenzy— he hardens his heart to slay. All her prayers and eager callings On the tender name of father, All her young and maiden freshness They but set at nought, those rulers, In their passion for the battle. And her father gave commandment To the servants of the goddess, When the prayer was o'er, to lift her, Like a kid, above the altar, In her garments wrapt, face downward,— Yea, to seize with all their courage, And that o'er her lips of beauty Should be set a watch to hinder Words of curse against the houses, With the gag's strength silence-working. And she upon the ground Pouring rich folds of veil in saffron dyed. Cast at each one of those that sacrificed A piteous glance that pierced, Fair as a pictured form. And wishing,— all in vain,— To speak, for oftentimes In those her father's hospitable halls She sang, a maiden pure with chastest song, And her dear father's life That poured its three-fold cup of praise to God, Crowned with all choicest good, She with a daughter's love Was wont to celebrate. The Chorus will pursue the scene no further. But their ««^««^/- anxious doubt has now found a resting-place on their faith '^'^''^^'' 5 strop fie k. 32 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. II. in Zeus. There must be no shrinking from suspense ; they must wait for and face whatever issue shall appear when Justice shall turn the scale: so, through pain, will at last come the gain of wisdom. Episode I. The ritual on the stage being now concluded, Clytaem- nestra advances to the front. At the same moment the choral ode is finished, and the Chorus take up their usual position in episodes, drawn up in two lines between the altar and the stage ; they speak only through their Leader, and use blank verse. In answer to the enquiries of the Chorus, Clytsemnestra announces that Troy has been taken this last night. The Chorus cannot understand how the news could travel so rapidly. Cho. What herald could arrive with speed like this? Clyt. Hephaestus flashing forth bright flames from Ida : Beacon to beacon from that courier-fire Sent on its tidings; Ida to the rock Hermaean named, in Lemnos : from the isle The height of Athos, dear to Zeus, received A third great torch of flame, and lifted up, So as to skim on high the broad sea's back, The stalwart fire rejoicing went its way; The pine wood, like a sun, sent forth its light Of golden radiance to Makistos' watch ; . and so from Euripus' straits to Messapion, across Asopus' plain to Kith^ron's rock, over the lake of Gorgopis to Mount Aegiplanctus, until the light swooped upon this palace of the Atreidae. Such is the order of my torch-race games ; One from another taking up the course, But here the winner is both first and last. While the Chorus are still overcome with amazement, Cly- tsemnestra triumphs over the condition of Troy on that morning : like a vessel containing oil and vinegar, the con- quered bewailing their first day of captivity over the corpses of husbands and sons, the victors enjoying their first rest free from the chill dews of night and the sentry's call, — and THE AGAMEMNON, 33 all will be well //, in their exultation, they forget not that Chap. II. they have the return voyage to make ! Clytaemnestra, thus darkly harping upon her secret hope that vengeance may even yet overtake her husband, returns with her Attendants into the palace, while the Chorus give expression to their joy. in a choral ode. It is the hand of Zeus they trace in all that has happened. CW in- Now what will they say who contend that the gods rare not ^ ^^^^^^, when mortals trample under foot the inviolable ? Wealthy Troy knows better, which has found its wealth no bulwark to those who in wantonness have spurned the altar of right. Paris knows better, who came to the sons of Atreus and^^nti. and stole a queen away, leaving shame where he had sat as guest. And many a wailing cry They raised, the minstrel prophets of the house, * Woe for that kingly home ! Woe for that kingly home and for its chiefs! Woe for the marriage bed and traces left Of wife who loved her lord ! ' There stands he silent ; foully wronged and yet Uttering no word of scom, In deepest woe perceiving she is gone ; And in his yearning love For one beyond the sea, A ghost shall seem to queen it o'er the house ; The grace of sculptured forms Is loathed by her lord, And in the penury of life's bright eyes All Aphrodite's charm To utter wreck has gone. And phantom shades that hover round in dreams Come full of sorrow, bringing vain delight ; For vain it is, when one Sees seeming shows of good. And gliding through his hands the dream is gone, After a moment's space. On wings that follow still Upon the path where sleep goes to and fro. 2 strophe and anti- strophe ., .^ -^- ^~ 34 CHORAL TRAGEDY. THE AGAMEMNON, 35 3 strophe and anti strophe epode. Chap. II. Such are the woes in the palace : but what among the homes of the people, as they bring to each man's home the ashes of his dead ? War is a trafficker ; in the rush of battle he holds scales, and for the golden coin you spend on him he sends you back lifeless shapes of men, well-smoothed ashes from the funeral pyre. And as the people sing the heroic fall of their kin, they think how it is all for another's wife ! So sullen discontent is doing the work of a people's curse. Thus, in their last antistrophe, the thoughts of the Chorus have come back to foreboding; and, as they subside into the concluding epode round the altar, their swayings to one side and another figure their distracting doubts: the courier flame has brought good news— but who knows if it be true ? Yet it is childish to be turned from the glow of joy by ever-changing rumour— yet it is the nature of woman to believe too soon. Episode II. Suddenly, through the distance-entrance on the extreme left of the stage, enters a Herald, crowned with olive in token of victory. The Chorus immediately fall into their episode positions to receive him, the leader giving words to their anticipations while the Herald is traversing the long stage. The Herald solemnly salutes the statues of the gods (now bright with the morning sun), and in rapid dialogue with the Chorus confirms the joyful news. He tells how he yearned for his native land, and the Chorus reply that they too have yearned in gloom of heart : when the Herald seeks to learn the source of their trouble he is met with signifi- cant silence. The Herald, misunderstanding this hesitation on the part of the Chorus, says that all human success has its mixture of trouble : the army had to encounter tossings on the sea and exposure to the night dews till their hair is shaggy as beasts' hair. But why remember this now ? Our toils are over !— He starts, as with a Greek's sensitiveness to omen he perceives that he has used a phrase consecrated to the dead ; but forces himself to shake off the weight of foreboding. The Queen appears from the palace for a Chap. II. moment to triumph over the Chorus, who had said that a woman believed too soon. She exults in the thought of her husband's near return to witness her fidelity, stainless * as a piece of bronze.' The strange phrase leaves an uncomfort- able sensation, which the Chorus seek to cover by enquiring further news from the Herald, and naturally ask first as to Menelaus. The Herald in vain stops them, shrinking from the dread of mingling bad news with good ; he is compelled to describe the terrible storm in which the sea blossomed with wrecks and Achaean corpses, and the ship of Menelaus disappeared. Thus the forebodings of the Chorus are strengthened by the tidings that already one of the sons of Atreus has been overtaken by fate. But for the present the thought is of triumph, and the Choral In- Chorus give vent to it in another choral ode. Helen has ^^^^^*^^ ^^- proved a helP to men, and ships, and towers. She came out from bowers of gorgeous curtains ; breezes soft as Zephyrs yet strong as Titans wafted her to the leafy banks of the Simois : and yet bloodshed was in her train, and shielded hunters followed on her track. Verily, there is a wrath that and anti- worketh after long waiting. Then were there shouts of * Paris ' in the bridal song, now in a wedding of death * Paris' has been shouted in other tones. They tell oi^ strophe a lion's cub reared in a house, fondled by young and old. With eyes that brightened to the hand that stroked, And fawning at the hest of hunger keen ; and yet when full-grown it showed the nature of its sires, and anti- and repaid hospitality with a banquet of slain sheep. strop u So would I tell that thus to Ilium came Mood as of calm when all the air is still, The gentle pride and joy of kingly state, A tender glance of eye, 3 strophe * A Greek pun represented by a different English pim: Helen ' resembles a Greek root signifying captivity. the name D 2 / Chap. II. and anti- strop/ie 4 strophe and anti- strophe. Episode III. 36 CHORAL TRAGEDY. The full-blown blossom of a passionate love, Thrilling the very soul ; And yet she turned aside, And wrought a bitter end of marriage feast, Coming to Priam's race 111 sojourner, ill friend, Sent by great Zeus, the god of host and guest, — Erinnys, for whom wives weep many tears. The saying is, that prosperity grown big will not die child- less, its offspring will be a woe unsatiable. Nay, it is not prosperity, it is an impious deed that begets impious deeds like to the parent stock. Recklessness begets recklessness, this is parent to full-flushed lust and god-forgetting daring. Justice will dwell in smoke-stained houses where life is lived by law, yet averts her eyes from golden mansions that har- bour defilement : and it is Justice which is directing the course of things to its appointed goal. All eyes turn to the distance side of the theatre, where there appears the grand procession of the warriors return- ing from Troy. One line of soldiers, bending under the weight of the trophies they are carrying, march along the stage ; through the passage into the orchestra Agamem- non himself enters in his chariot, followed in another chariot by Cassandra, a captive, yet still in the garb of a prophetess ; more soldiers bring up the rear, leading captive women of Troy. The greater part of the procession traverse the theatre, and pass out on the right into the city; Agamemnon, and his immediate followers, stop at the centre. The Chorus, falling into marching rhythm while the procession is in motion, long to pour out their welcome to their lord ; yet, from very excess of love, avoid that tone of untempered triumph, which to a Greek mind would seem the opportunity a mocking fate would choose for a change of fortune. They speak of their former fear, when, in a single strange deed, their master seemed to them like a face limned by an unskilful artist. But now, — and even as they speak, they / THE AGAMEMNON. 37 are checked by the recollection of the palace secrets : and Chap. II. they can only say that he, the king, will soon know^ who has served him well and who ill. Agamemnon, rising in his chariot, bends first in adoration towards the statues of the gods who have given him victory ; then turns to the Chorus and approves their cautious tone, so well has he learned by experience the difference between professing and true friends. He will deliberate in full council as to the diseases of his state : but first he must offer thanksgiving at his own hearth. Here the central gate of the stage opens, and Clytsemnestra appears to welcome her lord, fol- lowed by Attendants bearing rich draperies of purple and dazzling colours. The rhetorical exaggeration of her speech suggests that tone of untempered exultation which the Chorus had been so careful to avoid. She details her fears and longings, and hails Agamemnon as watch-dog of the fold, The stay that saves the ship, of lofty roof Main column-prop, a father's only child, Land that beyond all hope the sailor sees, Morn of great brightness following after storm. Clear-flowing fount to thirsty traveller. The bare ground is not fit for the foot that has trampled upon Ilium : she bids the Attendants strew tapestry on the floor as the conqueror alights from his car. The Attendants commence to lay their draperies along the stage and down the staircase into the orchestra: Agamemnon hastens to stop them, and rebukes Clytaemnestra for the excessive tone of her w^elcome, and the presumption of her triumph. Clytaemnestra persists, and a strange contest goes on, in which the wife is seeking to entangle her husband in an act of infatuation, which might make him in the eyes of heaven a fit subject for the vengeance she is meditating. At last Agamemnon yields, but removes the shoe from his foot in sign of humility; and in this strange guise he enters the / / 38 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. II. \ Choral In- terlude in in two pairs o/stanzas. Exodus, or Finale : marked by transitions between blank verse and lyrics. \ palace, Clytaemnestra's last words being a prayer that heaven may accomplish 'all that is in her heart !' Such a scene has strengthened the forebodings of the Chorus until they seem like bodily sensations: woeful strains haunting their ears, pulses of impending fate beating at their heart. They are plunged in gloom, with little hope ever to unravel their soul, that burns with its hot thoughts. The finale of the play is marked by a notable dramatic device. It was a fixed custom of the Greek Drama that no deed of violence could be enacted on the stage; the dramatist must find some method of making it known indirectly. The device employed in this case is the pro- phetic art of Cassandra, which enables her to see all that is going on behind the scenes ; with the further effect that her doom to be disbelieved forces her to depict the vision with ever increasing vehemence. During the preceding ode Cassandra had remained in her chariot ; at its conclusion the Queen returns to invite her, with forced moderation, to join the family sacrifice of her new home. Cassandra gi'ves no answer, but remains gazing into vacancy. Clyt^mnestra says that if Cassandra cannot speak Greek she might give some sign of assent. At the word 'sign' a shudder con- vulses the frame of the prophetess, and the Queen hastily returns into the palace. With a cry of horror from Cassandra the crisis of the play begins. Her words fall into the form of strophes and antistrophes, like waves of lyric rhythm, as the prophetic vision comes upon her. She sees all the old woes of this bloodstained house ; she sees the deed of the present-the bath filling, the entangling net, the axe standing ready ; then her wailings wax yet louder as she becomes aware that she is herself to be included in the sacrifice. Meanwhile, her excitement gradually passes over to the Chorus. At first they had mistaken her cries for the customary lamentations of captives (and borne their part in the dialogue in ordinary blank verse); then their emotions I THE AGAMEMNON, 39 are aroused (and their speech falls into lyrics) as they Chap. II. recognise the old woes of the family history, and remember Cassandra's prophetic fame. When she passes on to the deed in preparation at that moment they feel a thrill of horror, but only half understand, and take her words for prophecy of distant events, which they connect with their own forebodings : thus in her struggles to get her words believed Cassandra becomes more and more graphic, and the excitement crescendoes. Suddenly a change comes, and the dialogue settles down into blank verse — the calmness of an issue that has been decided. Cassandra has passed from her chariot to the stage, and, turning to the Chorus at the top of the steps, she says she will no more speak veiled prophecy, her words shall surge clear as wave against the sunlight. Then all the woes of the House of Atreus pass before us in a single tableau. Her vision shows a house given over to the spirits of vengeance, a choral band never absent since the primal woe that brought defilement. Phantom children loom on her sight, their palms filled full with meat of their own flesh. In revenge for that deed another crime is to bring fresh stain on the house : and Cassandra sees Clytaem- nestra as a two-headed serpent, Aegisthus lurking in the house as a lion in his lair, while a brave man is being murdered by a woman. The Chorus, in their perplexity, ask WHO is being murdered : Cassandra names Agamemnon — the Chorus too late seeking to stop the shock of omen which, to a Greek mind, made the naming of a dread event seem like the first step to its fulfilment. Then Cassandra goes on to tell how she also must be joined with her new master in the sacrifice, a victim to the jealous murderers. Bitterly she reproaches her guardian god Apollo, tearing from her head the sacred wreath, and breaking the prophetic wand : in place of her father's altar a butcher's block is awaiting her. Suddenly a new wave of vision breaks over her : / Chap. II. \ 40 CHORAL TRAGEDY. But the gods will not slight ns when we're dead ; Another yet shall come as champion for us, A son who slays his mother, to avenge His father ; and the exiled wanderer Far from his home, shall one day come again Upon these woes to set the coping-stone. Yielding to inevitable fate, she begins to move towards the palace, praying only for blow that bringeth death at once. That so with no fierce spasm, while the blood Flows in calm death I then may close my eyes. As she nears the palace it would seem as if her very physical senses caught the prophetic instinct : brightly as that palace is gleammg in the sunlight, she shrinks in disgust from it tamted to her with the scent of blood. Arrived at the gate, she turns to gaze for the last time on the loved rays of the sun. Ah, life of man! when most it prospereth, It is but limned in outline ; and when brought To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soak'd, Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch ! Cassandra passes through the gate into the palace. The Chorus are wondering what all Agamemnon's glory will avail him if he be in truth destined to an evil fate at the last,-when a loud cry is heard from the palace. The Chorus recognise the king's voice, and for the first time it dawns upon them that it is a present doom which has been foreseen. In great excitement they break out of their choral rank, and each individual urges rescue or doubts : at last they recollect that they have no certain knowledge of what has happened,-and in this hesitation once more the doom of Cassandra to be doubted is fulfilled. Suddenly by the machmery of the roller-stage, the interior of the palace is discovered : Clyt^mnestra is seen standing in blood-stained robes, and before her the corpse of Cassandra, and the corpse of Agamemnon in a silver bath covered with a net In 7 J THE AGAMEMNON. 41 calm blank verse Clytgemnestra avows her act. Standing Chap. II. where she did the deed, she glories in it : glories in the net by which she entangled and rendered him powerless, in the blows— one, two, three, like a libation— which she struck, glories in the gush of life-blood which has bespattered her. She had waited long : behold the handiwork of her artist hand ! Then a wild scene follows. The Chorus (in lyrics) are denouncing the murderess and passionately mourning over their lord : Clytaemnestra gradually falls into the rhythm of the Chorus as she meets the passion of bereavement with the excitement of triumph. Chorus. Ah me ! Ah me ! My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee? What shall I say from heart that truly loves ? And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life, In impious deed of death, In this fell spider's web! Yes woe is me I woe, woe ! Woe for this couch of thine unhonourable ! Slain by a subtle death. With sword two-edg'd which her right hand did wield. Clytaemnestra maintains that not herself, but the Avenger of Blood in her shape, has done this deed : and the Chorus, guilty as they know the queen to be, cannot deny that an avenging doom is here. He slew my daughter, the Queen reiterates, slain himself in recompense he was gone to hell with nothing to boast over ! But the Chorus cry for escape from the pelting shower of blood that is pouring upon the house. Who is to chant the dirge for their lord, and perform his funeral rites? That, answers Clyt^mnestra, shall be cared for, and as mourner he may find Iphigenia by the banks of the Styx ! Again the Chorus are unable to deny the justice of blood for blood : but where is the tale of curses begotten of curses to come to an end ? My hand, the Queen proudly replies, has freed the house from its / 42 CHORAL TRAGEDY, \ CiAP^II. frenzy of murder. Thus all seems to be going wrong in the action of the drama: Clyt^mnestra is triumphant and the Chorus are cowed. But this is only the Greek idea of infatuation : the spiritual darkening which like a mist hides from the sinner his doom until he has been driven to the extremity of his crime. The infatuation deepens as Aegisthus enters (through one of the inferior doors of the palace) from his place of concealment. He salutes the happy day which has brought vengeance for his own wrongs, as well as the wrongs of Clytaemnestra. The Chorus note that he confesses the deed • he shall die by stones hurled with the curses of the people Aegisthus haughtily bids the old men know their weakness and contemptuous defiances are interchanged. In the heat of their scorn the Chorus suddenly remember the destined future as hinted by Cassandra, the meaning of which now breaks upon them : with a new tone in their defiance they remind Aegisthus that the light of life yet shines 'upon ORESTES! At that word the whole mist of infatuation dissolves in a moment : the name of the fate-appointed avenger has been spoken, and already vengeance seems near. Clytaemnestra realises her doom to perish at the hands of her own son ; the audience catch the drift of the remaining plays of the trilogy; Aegisthus is maddened by the reflection that the natural avenger of Agamemnon is out of his power Enraged he gives the signal, at which through all the entrances come pouring out of the palace the soldiers of his body-guard; they line the long stage from end to end, their helmets spears, and shields gleaming bright in the noonday sun The Chorus -who represent the legitimate authority of the city now Agamemnon is dead-are nothing daunted by numbers, and press forward to ascend the stage A contest of force seems inevitable, and the metre of the play breaks into a rhythm of excitement. But the tide has too surely turned : Clytaemnestra throws herself between the THE SEPULCHRAL RITES, 43 \\ contending parties, and urges that enough ill has already Chap. II. been done ; she beseeches Aegisthus, and hurls alternately warning and scorn at the Chorus. With difficulty the two bodies, exchanging defiances, and each resting on the future, are induced sullenly to separate. Aegisthus allows himself to be forced by Clytaemnestra into the palace, the body-guard filing after him ; the Chorus slowly retire through the right passage into the city, and the first play of the trilogy ter- minates. The Sepulchral Rites \ In the second play of the trilogy the permanent scene'' Middav again stands for the palace of Agamemnon at Argos, the ^he^ c » Greek : Choephori, or bearers of urns for pouring libations. RiTF"^"^^' =* The modern reader must understand that the manuscripts of Greek plays contain only the speeches, without stage directions: these, and sometimes the divisions of the speeches, have to be inferred from the text, with the occasional assistance of notes by ' scholiasts,' or ancient com- mentators. Thus it will often happen that totally different arrangements of mise-en-sdne are reconcilable with the same text. For the present play there are two different theories, between which the evidence seems to me almost equally balanced. One arrangement (given in Donaldson's Theatre of the Greeks) assumes a change of scene at the end of the first Choral Interlude : the earlier part of the play centering round the tomb of Agamemnon, the latter part taking place in front of the palace. This agrees well with the prominence of the tomb in the earlier part, and the total ignoring of it after line 709 ; also the anapaests of the Chorus, 706-16, suit well with a choral re-entry. On the whole, I have preferred the arrangement in a single scene (as in Plumptre's translation, &c.). (i ) The burden of proof seems to rest with those who suppose a change ; (2) Choral Interlude I suits excellently with the filling up of an interval for Orestes to go out and return, while it fits awkwardly with the other arrangement; (3) the address to the tomb, 709-11, is strongly in favour of its continued presence ; (4) the whole effect of the crisis caused by Clytaemnestra's dim suspicions of the stranger is lost if the Chorus have been absent; (5) there are little touches, such as lines 257, 545 which suggest the vicinity of the palace in the earlier part. In adopting the single scene arrangement I have myself made a variation from (e. g.) Plumptre by supposing the tomb of Agamemnon to take the place of the Thymele. (i) There is the undoubted analogy of the Persians, a drama 44 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Prologue. I Chap^II. only difference being that the altar in the middle of the orchestra is now changed for a mound representing Aga- memnon's sepulchre. The entrances on either side of the central gates are approaches to the Strangers' Wing of the palace and to the Women's Quarters. The side-scenes represent on the left the valley of the Inachus, on the right, Argos. The prologue commences with the appearance of Orestes and Pylades, and the audience know that the day of vengeance has arrived. As they advance from the distance entrance Orestes solemnly cuts off two locks of his hair ; one he casts in the direction of the river, the thank-offering to the genius of his native valley that should have been presented when he came of age ; the other is a grief offering which exile prevented his paying at his father's funeral Descending to the orchestra he lays this lock on the tomb : he has no sooner returned to the stage than he hears a burst of waihng from within the palace, and the two friends hasten to conceal themselves. From the Women's Quarters appears a melancholy train of Trojan captive maidens, in attendance on the princess Electra, all with dishevelled hair and wild gestures, and bearing in their hands the urns used for funeral liba- tions. With the exception of Electra, who brings up the rear, they all descend the staircase into the orchestra and perform a funeral ode round the tomb of Agamemnon' '^^^ ^'"''^^ of this ode simply describe the tearings of cheeks .unj^san, rending of garments, with groanings, which are actually the gestures of the dance, and are proper to such a sepulchral nte as the Chorus have been sent to perform. The Queen which much resembles the present play; (2) in line 98 the Chorus seem ■ to Jay the,r hands on the tomb ; (3) the title of the play and prominence of sepulchral rites f., well with such a centre. No doubt this aLgemem t^mb\TT\ T f '^"'"" " '° "'^ """^ '"'o >-y "fferings'^on tt tomb, but I hope I have got over these by the arrangements I suggest and we ueed go no further than the third play of the trilogy tffind' authority for passing from stage to orchestra and vice versa Sepukhral OiU as Chorus- entry in three /'aired \: i SEPULCHRAL RITES. 45 has sent them, tefrified by a dream signifying how the Dead Chap. II. were wroth with their slayers. But the Chorus Hke not this graceless act of grace : what can atone for the slaughter of a hero ? With him awe has been overthrown, and success reigns in its stead. • Yet stroke of vengeance swift Smites some in life's clear day ; For some who tarry long their sorrows wait In twilight dim, on darkness' borderland ; And some an endless night Of nothingness holds fast. Through this ode Electra, who ought to have taken the Episode I: lead, has remained standing on the stage irresolute : she ' "^ now addresses the Chorus, who fall into their episode positions to converse with her. Electra's difficulty is, how can she use the customary formulas of such rites : — ' I bring from loving wife to husband loved gifts,' or * Good recom- pense make thou to those who bring these garlands'? Or shall she, dumb with ignominy like that with which He perished, pour libations as if they were lustral filth, looking not behind her ? The Chorus move to the altar, lay their hands on it in sign of fidelity, and so advise Electra to cast off all disguise and pray boldly for friend and against foe. Electra offers prayer in this sense for Orestes and vengeance ; then calling on the Chorus for another funeral song she short pcean descends in her turn to the tomb. When she returns to the stage after the short pasan of the Chorus, her whole manner is changed : as if the prayer had already been answered she has found on the sepulchre mysterious locks of hair, which, bit by bit, she lets out must be those of Orestes. When, in addition, she has discovered the foot- prints on the stage, Orestes and his friend come forward and make themselves known. The Chorus are alarmed lest the noisy joy of this meeting may be overheard in the palace. But Orestes has no fears of failure in his task, so strong / 46 < CHORAL TRAGEDY. . and elabo- rate Lyric Concerto in twenty intenvaiieii stanzas. ^"^^- ^^' were the sanctions with which Apollo bade him do the deed : — leprosy, madness, exile, wasting death should over- take him if he hung back. With Apolk on their side, the Chorus feel certainty of near retribution ; and the play resolves itself at this point into an elaborate dirge, by the brother and sister on the stage and the Chorus in the orchestra, in highly intricate and interwoven ^ strophes and antistrophes, with funeral gestures. The jaws of flame, they sing, do not reduce the corpse to senselessness : the dead can hear this our rite and will send answer. They sing the sad fate of Agamemnon : not that of the warrior who dies leaving high fame and laying strong and sure his children's paths in life, but to be struck down by his own kin. But there is a sense of vengeance at hand : and the dirge crescendoes till it breaks into the Arian Rhythm, a foreign ritual with violent gestures, proper to the Chorus as Asiatics ; from this it reaches a climax by dividing into two semi- choruses, one of which sings of woe the other of vengeance. By a favourite Greek effect, the passion of this lyrical dirge repeats itself in a calmer form in blank verse; the duett between Orestes and Electra is a sort of Litany to the Dead. Orestes promises banquets to the departed : Electra will be the first to pour the libations. Orestes. Set free my Sire, O Earth, to watch the battle. Electra. O Persephassa, goodly victory grant. Orestes. Remember, Sire, the bath in which they slew thee! Electra. Remember thou the net they handsell'd so. They appeal to him to save his children, the voices that preserve a man's memory when he dies. Their minds composed by these devotional exercises, Orestes and Electra turn to the means of carrying out vengeance. Orestes enquires as to the purpose of these sepulchral rites, and the dream is narrated in parallel verse. * See below, page 314. ii 47 \ Chap. II. THE SEPULCHRAL RITES, Orestes. And have ye learnt the dream to tell it right? Chorus. As she doth say, she thought she bare a snake. Orestes. How ends the tale, and what its outcome then ? Chorus. She nursed it, like a child, in swaddling clothes. Orestes. What food did that young monster crave for then? Chorus. She, in her dream, her bosom gave to it. Orestes. How 'scaped her breast by that dread beast unhurt? Chorus. Nay, with the milk it suck'd out clots of blood. Orestes. Ah, not in vain comes this dream from her lord. Chorus. She, roused from sleep, cries out all terrified, And many torches that were quench'd in gloom Blazed for our mistress' sake within the house. Then these libations for the dead she sends. Hoping they'll prove good medicine of ills. Orestes. Now to Earth here, and my sire's tomb I pray, They leave not this strange vision unfulfilled. So I expound it that it all coheres; For if, the self- same spot that I left leaving, The snake was then wrapt in my swaddling-clothes, And suck'd the very breast which nourished me, And mixed the sweet milk with a clot of blood, And she in terror wailed the dread event, So must she, as that monster dread she nourished, Die cruel death : and I, thus serpentised, Am here to slay her, as this dream portends. They rapidly arrange their plans to get admission to the palace as foreigners, Electra returning to the Women's Quarters to keep watch within. The Chorus fill up the interval with an ode, which sings Choral In- the most monstrous of all monsters, a passion-driven woman : *^^!^ ^ ^ \ ' ^ tnfour pair- such as Thestias, who burnt out the mystic brand that edsumzas. measured her son's life ; Scylla, who stole her father's life-charm. They hint of another who slew a warrior-king, a deed which might compare with the Lemnian deed, fore- most of crimes. But the anvil-block of vengeance is firm set, and Fate is the sword-smith hammering. The action of the play recommences with the appearance Episode II. of Orestes advancing a second time through the distance entrance, followed by Pylades and Attendants. Arrived at / 48 CHORAL TRAGEDY, CH.P II the central gate of the palace, he calls loudly for admission, telling the Porter that he is a traveller, and must do his message before night falls. Clytsemnestra, who enters from the Women's Quarters, is cold in her offer of hospitality, having heard Orestes' phrase, that he desires the lord or the lady of the house, though a lord is the seemlier ruler. Orestes bluffly delivers to her a message he professes to have received from a fellow-traveller, who begged him to seek out the kinsmen of Orestes at Argos, and say Orestes was dead. Clytsemnestra affects a burst of grief, which the traveller interrupts by remarking that he cannot expect the reception of one who brings good news. Orestes is over-acting his part, and the Queen, with a dim feeling of suspicion, answers that' he shall lack nothing of that which befits ; she then motions the porter to conduct Orestes through the central gates, but signs other Attendants to take his companions into 'the Strangers' Wing ^ : she herself retires into the Women's Quarters, saying that the master of the house, with no lack of friends, shall share the news. The Chorus catch the critical condition of their project, and, breaking into marching rhythm, invoke Hermes and the Spirit of Persuasion to sit upon the lips of Orestes. The Nurse of Orestes comes out from the Women's Quarters, sent by Clytsemnestra to summon Aegisthus. She is dissolved in tears at the sad news which has arrived, and details all her petty cares over the boy's infancy, now rendered fruitless. The Chorus give mysterious hints of consolation ; and, enquiring the exact terms of the message to Aegisthus, bid her alter them, and beg him to come » This separation of Orestes from his companions is not very clear in Clyt^mnestra's own words, though the de of line 700, assisted by a gesture, might be sufficient. The fact of his separation is clear from line 851, and gives point to the speech of the Chorus that follows, especially their reference to persuasion, which must now do the work of force. / (I THE SEPULCHRAL RITES, 49 alone and come at once. Somewhat reassured, the Nurse Chap. II. proceeds through the right entrance into the city. The Chorus again fill up an interval of waiting with an Choral In^ ode, in which they invoke the various gods worshipped ^^^^"^-^ ^^• by the family— as Zeus, Apollo, Hermes— to hold back the /«//^L« rapid course of calamity for the dear son of the house. ;«?S '"'"'* Like Perseus, he must look not on the deed while he does it ; as she utters the name of Mother, he must hurl back the cry of Father ! Aegisthus now enters from Argos: as he passes \)\^ Episode Chorus, he speaks of the summons he has received ; it may ^^■^• after all be but women's fears, that leap up high and die away to nought. The Chorus answer that there is nothing like enquiring. Aegisthus will do so : they will not cheat a man with his eyes open. Speaking these words he dis- appears through the central gate to his doom. The Chorus, in a short lyrical burst, express the critical moment that gives success or failure. Then cries are heard from within, and the Porter rushes from the central gate to the door of the Women's Quarters, loudly summoning Clytaemnestra : when she appears, he informs her that the * dead are slaying the living.' She sees in a moment the truth, and is hurriedly looking for aid, when Orestes appears from the central door and confronts her, while Pylades and his Attendants rush out from the Strangers' Wing to support him. Orestes. *Tis thee I seek : he there has had enough. Clytamnestra. Ah me ! my loved Aegisthus ! art thou dead ? Orestes. Lov'st thou the man ? Then in the self-same tomb Shalt thou now lie, nor in his death desert him. The mother bares her breast and appeals to filial instinct, and Orestes' courage all but fails : Pylades speaks (for this one time only in the whole play), reminding his friend that a god had bidden him do the deed, and Orestes rallies to his task, forcing the guilty Queen— now realising the meaning of her dream— to go within and suffer death. J \ 50 CHORAL TRAGEDY, I in six inter- woven stanzas. Exodus or Finale. \ Chap. II. As the gate closes on the son and his mother the Chorus Choral I - ^^^^ ^^^ vengeance has come, though late j on a lover of terlude III guile retribution has descended subtle-souled. The will of gods is strangely over-ruled, It may not help the vile. At last they see the light : all-working Time, with cleansing rites, will purify the house ; Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast : at last they see the light. Once more the central gate opens, and Orestes solemnly advances to the front, his Attendants bearing the corpses of Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, bearing also the net in which Agamemnon had been murdered : the hero bids them spread the net in the full light of the Sun, the great purifyer, while he testifies before its brightness that the dread deed he has done is a deed of necessary vengeance. He dwells on the cruel device of Clytaemnestra — a deed of one who, had she been a viper, with touch alone would have made a festering sore. But the Chorus, seeing side by side that fatal net and the ghastly slaughter with which it has just been avenged, by unhappy chance can think of nothing but the growth of evil out of evil, which the avenger in his turn will have to prove. Orestes, strung already by the task he has performed to the highest pitch of nervous excitement, staggers under the shock of this untimely utterance. He recounts again the crime of which this deed is the nemesis : the Chorus cannot help re- peating the unhappy omen. At this moment Orestes feels his brain giving way. Like chariot-driver with his steeds I'm dragged Out of my course ; for passion's moods uncurb'd Bear me their victim headlong. At my heart Stands terror ready or to sing or dance In burst of frenzy. While reason yet stays with him he reiterates his innocence, and puts on the suppliant's fillet; with this he will go to THE GENTLE GODDESSES. 51 Delphi, and challenge the god who sent him on his mission Ch.. to free him from its dire consequences. The madness increases : he can see the Furies in bodily shape, dark- robed, and all their tresses entwined with serpents. . . . they swarm, they swarm, and from their eyes is dropping loath- some blood. . . . they drive him on, and he can bear no more ! — Orestes rushes through the distance-entrance to commence his long career of wanderings, while the Chorus cry that a third storm has burst upon the house of their king : when will the dread doom be lulled into slumber ? The Gentle Goddesses \ It is the third play of the trilogy which presents the After- greatest difficulties to modern appreciation. One of these p^^y • difficulties is connected with the national character of a The Greek tragic celebration, which made it possible for a qq^^^^ dramatist to substitute political sentiment, and even appeals desses. to party feeling, in the place of strictly dramatic effect. The ' Story of Orestes ' was brought on the stage in March of 458 B.C., during the excitement caused by the popular attack on the aristocratic court of the Areopagus : it is a leading purpose of the poet to assist the defenders of that institution by associating it with the legendary glories of Athens. To appreciate portions of the final play, the reader must be able to sympathise with the spirit of conflicts between the party of conservatism and the party of reform. But the play presents an even greater difficulty on the side of art, from the fact that it deals with the supreme horror of ancient mythology, that terror which was a back- ground for all other terrors — the beings called by us the Furies, termed by the Greeks *Erinnyes' or Destroyers, where they did not avoid altogether uttering the name of dread, and speak of the * Gentle Goddesses,' using a similar ^ Greek : Euinenides. £ 2 52 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap. II. ..X. euphemism to that by which in Scotland mischievous fairies are called the 'Good Neighbours.' These Furies were personifications of remorse, or of those unnatural crimes that separate the criminal for ever from his fellows. Ac- cordingly, they are represented as dwelling apart from all the gods; sprung from darkness, they remain in the lowest depths of hell till the curses of the victim summon them to earth. Their appearance is too terrible to be otherwise than dimly defined : when they grow visible it is as black forms with serpent hair, they breathe out fire and blood, and foulness drops from their eyes. They were to be worshipped in places which none might approach ; the victims offered to them were black ; and wine — the symbol of comradeship —was banished from their festivals. And of all the details of dread associated with the Furies none was more weird than their mode of attack :— no outward blow or plague, but unremitting pursuit, the stroke of madness, the secret power of their presence to drain the victim of energy and life. These loathly creatures — the supreme effort of crea- tive melancholy— are in the third play of the trilogy brought actually before our eyes : if such an attempt would on the modern stage be doomed to failure, it must be recollected that Ancient Tragedy possessed a weapon we have lost in the choral art, which could reach the mind by three distinct avenues, all producing their separate im- pressions in harmony. It is necessary then to string up the imagination to the conception of these beings, for they form the central interest of the play, as is clear from the choral and poetic devices the author has lavished on their part, especially the effect of their gradual disclosure, from the first dim sight we catch of them in the background of the dark shrine, up to the point where they actually perform their spell on a victim before our eyes. The opening scene represents the Temple of Apollo at Delphi: the central gates are the richly adorned entrance to THE GENTLE GODDESSES, 53 of the central gates, the Pries es" of thr '; °" ''^ '''' ~~ towards the cave offering th. ! °''^'^'® advances Prologue. ates the various de We? K T™"^ P'"^''" ' ^^ enumer- guardiansh'of the ' ed or f t"' ""'^ ^P°"° *« fons that day mly exce a,I h t' '"' '"''''' *^' ^'' ^-n^" moment she returns ml. 'J' P^'^^^ '"t° *e cave. In a the central ;:rt£lrHr''"'' '"^'"^"■^^ °P^" dreadful form's f^'the 2„e: ' 8^ ""^^ '^ ^'^""^^ the terror of the si^ht X k ''''" ^""'^^y ^'«nd, for been polluted by t7e prten" T ' "' ""^'^ ^''"- ''- dripping with bloodshed and 1' "''^'""*' ""' ^^^^'^ ^^^ a yet more dread sigh I'a tro ' 7f ' """' '^'"' ^'^^ ^^ -...s harpies. swLh a:re:C7armi::r- " iney snort with brcitl, ti,,* "«uic. And from the r eve, , , 1 "' "^^ ''"^ "PProach, And such thel Z> " ^.'"""^ '"""°" P°"«. or,ods.t:trcrr„r:r.tr hu'^ieTbr^irir; '-' '- -°- ^^^ --- -<^ on theirXu J-lt™or:/ T ^^'"t" '-"''' Orestes. Apollo pledges himselfl . T' *' ^'''"''^ suppliant: it is himSf ^^ LT 1° ^ ' ''' ''"'"^^ ■oathly beings, born out of el 4d h h / V ''"'' the momentary resnif. tr. i \ ^"^^ ^''^^'^s seize to his brother deitv j!J^'^\'^°"''"'^^'"S the fugitive 54 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap. II. brings the interior of the cave to the front, giving a nearer view of the sleeping Furies, poured confusedly over the floor in uncouth attitudes. The Ghost of Clytaemnestra rises from beneath the earth, and towering over the recum- bent sleepers she taunts them with their defeat. They are sleeping, while she remains in disgrace among the shades beneath, reproached as a murderess, yet none will do vengeance on him who murdered her. She shows her heart-wounds and taxes the Furies with ingratitude. Many a gift of mine Have ye lapp'd up, libations pure from wine, And soothing rites that shut out drunken mirth; And I dread banquets of the night would offer On altar-hearth, at hour no god might share. And lo ! all this is trampled under foot. He is escaped, and flees, like fawn, away. And even from the midst of all your toils Has nimbly slipped, and draws wide mouth at you. Hear ye, for I have spoken for my life: Give heed, ye dark, earth -dwelling goddesses, J, Clytsemnestra's phantom, call on you. The Furies moan in their sleep. Moan on, the man is gone, and flees far off: My kindred find protectors ; I find none. The moaning of the Furies grows louder and nearer the waking point as Clytaemnestra presses them with her re- proaches, until at last they wake with a yell, and sit up in various postures of horror, still drowsy with their charmed sleep. The Ghost passes amongst them, seeking to rouse each individual: one she praises as a hound that never use of it at this point, which would constitute the second (and nearer) discovery of the Furies, the first having been the dim vision of them through the central gates left open by the priestess. There remain further stages in their display : (i) where they wake in sitting postures, (2) where they start to their feet, and perform a prelude (on the roller- stage) ; besides their further appearance on the stage proper and finally in the orchestra. THE GENTLE GODDESSES. 55 rests from toil, another she reproaches as losing in sleep all Chap. II. sense of loss, a third she urges with vehemence : Breathe on him with thy blood-fleck*d breath, And with thy vapour, thy maw's fire, consume him ; Chase him, and wither with a fresh pursuit. The Furies at last start to their feet, fully revealed, and Prelude. break into a prelude : crowded into a single tangled group by the narrow dimensions of the roller-stage, they sway to right and left with successive stanzas into fresh varieties of hideousness. Their prey, they sing, is gone ! Apollo has shown himself again as a robber-god! Earth's central shrine has been polluted ! But not even with a god to help him shall the victim escape. Apollo reappears from the darkness shrouding the in- most parts of the cave, driving before him with his threatening bow the Furies, who retreat on to the floor of the stage and stand defying him. He bids them begone from his sacred precincts, and seek scenes more fitted to their nature ; There, where heads upon the scaffold lie, And eyes are gouged and throats of men are cut, Where men are maimed and stoned to death, and groan With bitter wailing 'neath the spine impaled. A contest ensues in parallel verse. The Furies reproach Apollo with taking the part of a matricide ; Apollo urges that the mother had first slain her husband ; the Furies retort that the husband is not kin to the wife, which Apollo treats as a reflection on Zeus and Hera and the sanctity of marriage. Neither party will give way, and the Furies fling themselves on the footprints of Orestes and track them through the distance-entrance towards Athens. At this point, stage and orchestra being empty, a change Chattge of of scene is effected. The central gate is now the porch oi^^^^' an Athenian temple— that of Athene, Guardian of the i I 56 '/ CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. II. City : the side-scene on the left gives a view of the road to Argos, the other displays the city of Athens. Orestes enters from the Argos road, no longer a blood-stained wanderer, but with tragic dignity of mien, and clad in the gorgeous vestments of Bacchic ritual. Advancing to the temple porch he clasps the statue of Athene, and tells how, in his long wanderings, the stain of his deed has been by due rites washed away. Suddenly, by the same entrance, the Furies make their appearance on the stage, their faces to the ground and tracking Orestes' steps. At last the dumb informer is clear again, already they catch the loved scent of blood. They see their victim praying, and silently spread themselves along the stage behind him to bar escape ; in low voice they mock his hopes of staking all on one trial, they will keep him to his doom of suspense, sucking his blood from his living members, and when they have had their fill of this drink undrinkable, they will drag him down alive to Hades, a matricide still. Orestes con- tinues his prayer : details the cleansing rites he has under- gone, vindicates the pureness of the hand he lays on the statue of the pure goddess. The Furies start up : Not Apollo nor Athene can save thee from thy doom ! Orestes clings convulsively to the statue of Athene. — Thou resistest? Then feel our spell ! Parode, They fling themselves exultingly down the steps into the leading to orchestra, chanting in marching rhythm, and summoning one another to their dance of hate, their office of witnesses for the dead against the sinner : then they form about the altar, and the audience feel a vague thrill of terror as they watch the Chorus moving with no sound of musical accom- paniment through the spell-dance of the Furies, clustering in ghastly groups, weaving weird paces, and with gestures of incantation strangely writhing their shadowy shapes. They appeal to Night, their mother, whose sway like theirs is over living and dead alike ; they appeal against the Choral Spell. I strophe xj\ I / \ THE GENTLE GODDESSES. 57 despite Apollo is doing them in robbing them of their Chap. IL cowering victim — And over him as slain We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working, The hymn the Erinnyes love, A spell upon the soul, a lyreless stram That withers up men's strength. The Destiny that spun the web of all things spun as one andanti- thread of it that they should haunt the slayer of kin, their ^^'^^^ "" victim, till death, and after death their victim yet more : — And over him as slain We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working, The hymn the Erinnyes love, A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain That withers up men's strength. They tell of their birth lot : to be sundered for ever from 2 strophe the deathless gods, from social joys and garments of white : for them was the overthrow of homes in which love and slaughter have met — Ha ! hunting after him, Strong though he be, 'tis ours To wear the newness of his young blood down — they are jealous for the task they have taken over from all andanti- . strophe. Others : heaven must stop the prayer before it reaches them, since, their work once begun, no gods may draw near to strive with them, unapproachable beings of blood and hate — For leaping down as from the topmost height I on my victim bring The crushing force of feet, Limbs that o'erthrow e'en those that swiftly run, An Ate hard to bear. So far the Furies have alternated between dejection at their isolated lot and frantic joy in their task; for a pair of stanzas they give themselves up to unmingled exultation in / 58 CHORAL TRAGEDY. 3 strophe and anti- strophe 4 strophe S, and anti- strophe. Chap. II. the sure secrecy of their attack. They laugh at the glory of man, towering so high in the blessed sunlight, and all the while beneath the earth its foundation has been wasting away and dwindling to dishonour, as they have been approaching and retreating with the dancings of their loathly feet. His guilt reaches the frenzy of ignorance, that gathers round him a cloudy mist hiding that which is coming, even while rumour has begun to sigh all around and tell the fall of the house. In the final pair of stanzas, the Furies fall back into unrelieved gloom, with nothing to vary the irresistible horror of their motions. For ever ! ever finding means, never missing the goal, never for- getting, never appeased, lacking honour, lacking reverence, in no company of gods, in no light of sun, in life, in dim death, pursuing their uphill task, the law imposed on them, given them to fulfil, the law that none may hear and fear not, the task of old which it is their high prerogative to work out, dwellers though they be beneath the earth in the sunless world of shadows. The spell is broken by a shock of surprise when Athene herself appears aloft in the air, floating as in a chariot of clouds along the balcony of the permanent scene. She has heard the cry of Orestes, and now enquires w^hat is this strange presence in her own city? The Chorus explam who they are, and seek to enlist Athene against the matricide. The goddess answers that she has heard only one side. The Chorus rejoin that their adversary dares not rest his case on oath for oath. We can understand these words producing a stir through the vast Athenian audience, as trenching on current politics : the exchange of oaths was a feature of procedure in ordinary Athenian courts, from which the threatened Court of Areopagus claimed separate jurisdiction. When Athene answers that such a device is a poor way of getting at truth, a burst of applause from the aristocratic party welcomes this as a Episode I. THE GENTLE GODDESSES. B9^ distinct declaration in their favour. Orestes proceeds to put his case, saying how Apollo sent him on his mission. Athene pauses : murder stirred by wrath (that is, homicide as distinguished from murder, the peculiar province of the Areopagus Court) is too hard a matter for mortal or god to determine ; she will, therefore, appoint jurors on oath as a perpetual institution for dealing with such cases. Let the parties prepare, while she seeks citizens of the best for jurors. Athene in her cloudy chariot floats onward in the direction of the city, amid the long and loud applause of the aristocratic party, who henceforward excitedly turn the whole performance into a political demonstration. The choral ode that fills up the interval assists this effect, being a glorification of the spirit of conservatism. Unless the right side wins here, the Furies sing, there will be an outbreak of new customs and general recklessness. Awe is the watchman of the soul, the calm wisdom gained by sorrow : he who dares all and transgresses all will perforce, as time wears on, have to take in sail, while each yard-arm shivers with the blast; in vain he struggles amid the whirling waves, ever failing to weather round the perilous promontory, till he is wrecked on the reefs of vengeance. The political effect reaches its climax as another change of scene reveals Mars Hill itself: the centre masonry indi- cating the very spot in which the Court of Areopagus held its sittings, while one of the side-scenes displays a portion of the hill— rocky steps, and a wide long chasm, at the bottom of which were the Caves of the Eumenides. Athene enters on foot from the city with her jury of aristocratic citizens. Dramatic effect may be considered to be suspended, and the interest now lies in reproducing exactly the procedure of the Court of Areopagus, with Athene for president, Orestes for prisoner, Apollo as his counsel, and the Chorus to prosecute in person. The spirit of the scene is adapted to gratify the peculiar Athenian Chap. II. Choral In- terlude I in four paired stanzas. Change of scene and Finale^ or Exodus. / i 60 CHORAL TRAGEDY. \ I Chap. II. love of legal hair-splitting. Instead of deep arguments, founded on morals or religion, we have the Chorus resting their case on the plea that the murder of a husband is a lesser crime than the murder of a parent, affinity being violated and not relationship. This is met by a counter- plea of a similar type : that the mother is not even a relative, but only an instrument of child-bearing : The mother is not parent of the child That is called hers, but nurse of embryo sown ; He that begets is parent. Apollo puts this his plea with a personal appeal to the judge as one born of father without mother, while no myth tells of a child sprung from no father. This at once wins Athene to his side, and she calls upon the jurors to vote, in a speech which, as an inauguration for the Court of Areo- pagus, makes the safety of the Athenian state rest upon this court to the end of time. Amid an accompaniment of threats and promises from the contending parties, the jurors advance one by one and cast their votes in the urns. Last of all the goddess gives her personal voice in favour of Orestes, thus affording a mythical basis for a technical term of Areopagitic procedure, by which, where a jury was evenly divided, the prisoner was said to be acquitted by the ' vote of Athene.' This proves to be the case on the present occasion, and Orestes, being thus solemnly discharged, after pouring out his gratitude to Athene, and pledging a firm alliance between Athens and his native Argos, quits the scene with his patron Apollo, and the trial is at an end. The political purposes of the play being now secured, its dramatic character is resumed, and it rises to the full height of tragic effect in an elaborate choral finale. The Chorus (breaking into strophic lyrics) vow vengeance and a long train of ills on the city for this their defeat : black venom shall drop on the land, which shall smite the earth with barrenness, blight shall come upon the leaves and murrain Lyric Concerto THE GENTLE GODDESSES. 61 on the flocks. ]?etwcen each strophe and aiitistrophc Cu.\i'. II. Athene (in blank verse) seeks to i)roj)itiate tiie ani^ry deities. Their cause has been fairly tried, she urines; moreover, in their wrath they will lose all the j^^ood things the eity would do for them if friendly : they should have shining thrones in the dark homes they love, the citizens would bring them the first-fruits of a wide champaign, and the offerings of births and wedlocks. (Iradually the ( Ihorns calm down, and (their lyrics subsiding into parallel verse) they, as it were, demand reiteration of the pledge article by article. Chorus. Athene, queen, wiiat scat as^igii'st Ihou Tiie? Athene. One void of loucli of evil ; take thou it. Chorus. Say I accept, what honour then Is mine? Athene. That no one house apart from thee shall prosj)er. Chorwi. An'l wilt tliou uoik tlint J sncli ini/dil mny linvc? Athene . His lot who worship-; thee we'll j^'uit I mii^hl refrain from speaking. Chorus. It seems thou sooth'st me; J reki.v my wrath. The lyrics break out ngnin as tluj Chorus rerall their eiirsc. There shall be no tree-blighting canker, no blaze of scorch- ing heat, no plague of barrenness nor dust drinking the blood of citizens : but the earth shall feed fair flocks and bear rich produce for the Higher Powers. Athene makes acknowledgment for the city (in inarching rhythm as signify- ing extiltalion) ; she then offers to conduct the now friendly deities to their homes. At her word, torches are seen on the stage, lighting up the dull March aflerncjon, and there enters from the city an array of highborn matrons and girls, in vestments of purple, some carrying urns for libations, others graceful baskets, thus ])r()viding for the finnl spectacle of the trilogy the favourite festival of the luunenidea. The worshippers file down the ste[)s into the orchestra and mingle their brightness with the dark forms of the Chorus : then, all winding round the orchestra in the long line which If 62 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. II. Greek art so loves, and raising the festival hymn, while the vast audience of thirty thousand join to shout the burden till the neighbouring hills ring again, the [>rocession passes out towards the Caves of the Eumenides, and the trilogy is concluded. HI. ) I Choral Tragedy as a Dramatic Species. 1. Structure of Choral Tragedy. 2. The Lyric Elejnent in Ancient Tragedy. 3. Motives in Ancient Tragedy. 4. The Dramatic Element in Ancient Tragedy, 5. Extraneous Elements in Choral Tragedy. 62 C II ORAL TRAGEDY. i Chap. II. Greek art so loves, and raising the festival hymn, while the vast audience of thirty thousand join to shout the burden till the neighbouring hills ring again, the procession passes out towards the Caves of the Eumcnides, and the trilogy is concluded. III. Choral Tragedy as a Dramatic Species. I 1. Structure of Choral Tragedy. 2. The Lyric Element in Ancient Tragedy. 3. Motives in Ancient Tragedy. 4. The Dramatic Element in Ancient Tragedy. 5. Extraneous Elements in Choral Tragedy. \ i *' III. 1. structure of Choral Tragedy. The form of drama, the origin of which was traced in the first chapter of this work, while in the chapter immediately preceding an illustration of it has been presented from the spectator's point of view, is best described by the term Choral Tragedy : its distinctive mark, as a species of the universal drama, being the combination in it of a lyric with the dramatic element. Greek Tragedy was not pure drama, but a union^ of Lyric Odes by the Chorus in the Orchestra in Strophic form, and Dramatic Episodes by Actors on the Stage in what may be called Blank Verse. The Chorus was the bond between the lyric and dramatic elements: having connection with the dramatic plot as the hero's confidants, and taking part (through their Coryph^us or Leader) in * The structural parts of a tragedy are five:— i. The Prologue includes everything (acted scene or explanatory speech) that precedes the first appearance of the Chorus. (2) Parode, or Chorus-entry, the speech of the Chorus on entering before they take part in an Episode : it often inchides a Choral Ode and sometimes (see below, page 178) becomes a scene of dialogue. (3) Episode is the technical name for a dramatic scene upon the stage, the Chorus being present and taking part through their Leader. (4) Choral Interludes are by the Chorus alone, with no action taking place on the stage, and in strict strophic form. The Greek name stasimon describes such a performance as ' stationary ' to distinguish it from the Parode and Exode. The bulk of a tragedy consists in Episodes and Choral Interludes, alternating to any number of each. (5) The Exodus or Exode includes all the action subsequent to the last Choral Interlude.— Note: The words Parode, Episode, Exode have no etymo- logical connection with ode, but are connected with a Greek word hodos applied to entrance and exit. Chap. III. Choral Tragedy. Dramatic Structure of Ancient Tragedy. \ 66 CHORAL TRAGEDY, V The ChoriL as specta- tors in the drama. Chap. III. ihe dialogue of the episodes, while the lyric parts they had /Wholly to themselves. The Choru.i The Chorus are able to harmonise their double functions •^^J^/ ^y \^€\x peculiar position as ' ideal spectators.' This happy spectator: description is true only if it be understood in the fullest sense : the Chorus are spectators in the drama, and they are spectators ^the drama. As spectators in the drama, the Chorus serves the purpose of the crowds^ which Shakespeare and other dramatists sometimes introduce into their plays to supplement indi- vidual personages^. Again, two institutions of the modern stage, the soliloquy and the confidant — channels by which a poet can convey matter to his audience more directly than by acted representation — were unnecessary in the Greek Drama, where a hero had always a recognised body of confidential friends to whom he could unfold his train of meditations more naturally than in a soliloquy ^ The function of by-standers as distinguished from actors is well illustrated in the Agatnemnon^. The Chorus here are well adapted for their part : shut out by old age from the war ^ E. g. the Roman mob in Julius Ca:sar. ^ In the technical sense of the term, there can of course be only one Chorus in a tragedy. The term is loosely applied to companies of mute personages on the stage, such as the body-guard of Aegisthus. In two cases, words have been written for such * Secondary Choruses*: the Ritual Hymn at the close of the trilogy, and the Huntsmen's Chorus in Hippolytus. ^ A near approach to an ancient Chorus is found in Ben Jonson's play, Every Man out of his Humour, where he utilises his prologue to bring upon the stage (that is, upon that portion of the stage reserved in his day for fashionable spectators) two persons of a critical dispo- sition who remain all through the piece and assist the audience with their passing comments. — Note also the school of modem fiction, of which George Eliot is the most prominent type : here, while the main points of the stor)' are developed in dialogue, the action can be suspended at any point for the purpose of making philosophic comments, which are a prose analogue to the lyric meditations of the Chorus. * Another excellent illustration is in Oedipus at CoIonuSj 823-86. ^ J' UNCTIONS OF THE CHORUS. 67 itself they arc yet Senators, to whom the formal announce- <^^'^'- ^^'- mcnt of the news received would naturally be made. They are so situated as to take the dcei)cst interest in the incidents that occur without being themselves actually involved in them. Clytccmnestra's announcement they receive in the most ordinary manner ])c)ssi])le : at first with ama/.emenl, which ^ivcs opportunity for the ( hain oflK-a.-ons to be described, then with lyric exclamation in an ocle \vhi( h, free from any fixed method of thought, passes from reflec- tion by insensible stages to narration. Like by-statulers they receive the Herald, and exchange witli him gossij)- ing news. Ihit this passive attiliule of the ('horns is mo-.t strikingly exhibited in the finale, where, in (()nla( t with the catastrophe of the i)iece, they are again and again carried to the verge of ac live interfereiu e, yet always slo)) sluirt. They are directly told by Cassandra that thc'r beloved master is to be murdered within the palace : but the mystic doom of Cassandra to be for ever doubted operates to produce irresolution till the moment for action is past. Shortly afterwards they have the r rime and the (riminal before their eyes: but as the violence of their emotions encounters the calm triumph of ClytaMunestra her infatua- tion seems to become infectious, and again action is para- lysed. When at last they have shaken themselves free of their doubts and foreseen vengeance, then they advanc e, reckless of odds, to arrest Aegisthus : even here they allow themselves to be restrained by irresistible force and the certainly of future retribution. lUit the Chorus are also si)ectators ^/ the drama; they llu-Chcru^ arc made, in a peculiar manner, to stand for the pn'>li<- ^'!,:!'^/ 7/', present in the theatre. The very impression whi( h the */;, /'UNCTIONS OF THE CHORUS. 67 itself they are yet Senators, to whom the formal announce- C"^'' "'• ment of the news received would naturally be made. Tlicy are so situated as to take the deepest interest in the incidents that occur without being themselves actually involved in them. Clytrcninestra's announcement they receive in the most ordinary manner ])Ossible : nt first with ama/emenl, wliich givrs opportunity for the (bain oflR-acons to be described, then with lyric e\< lamation in an ode wbi( h, free from any fixed method of thought, i)asses from reflec- tion by insensible stages to narration. l,ike bystanders they receive the Herald, and exchange with him gossip- ing news. Ihit this passive attitude of the Chorus is ino-.t strikingly exhibited in the finale, where, in ( onlac t with the catastr()])he of the ]>iec.e, they are again and again carried to the verge of active interference, yet always stop slu)rt. They are directly told by Cassandra that thc'r beloved master is to be murdered within the palace : but the mystic doom of Cassandra to be for ever doubted operates to produce irresolution till the moment for action is past. Shortly afterwards they have the crime and the c riininal before their eyes : but as the violence of their emotions encounters the calm triumph of Clyticmnestra her infatua- tion seems to become infectious, and again action is para- lysed. When at last they have shaken themselves free of their doubts and foreseen vengeance, then they advance, reckless of odds, to arrest Aegisthus : even here they allow themselves to l)e restrained by irresistible force and the certainty of fiiture retribution. IJut the Chorus are also spectators of the drama ; they '^'^•'•(^[^'/"" are made, in a peculiar manner, to stand for the P"'>''<' ^'.V!'^/ //, present in the theatre, 'i'he very impression which ihcdmwa: dramatist wishes to leave in the minds of his hearers he outwardly embodies in the words and action of the Chorus : the Chorus are the audience thinking aloud. This api)ears in various ways. For one thing, a tragedy was a religious F 2 68 CHORAL TRAGEDY, ClIAP. III. catching religious lessons, {heme con- ventional style) relchratinj^ incidents that cannot he acted f expressini^ the feelinj^s intended to celebration, and the Chorus arc, from time to time, made to catch the reh'gious bearing of the action, just as the chorales of a modern oratorio draw a devotional lesson from the point of the sacred history at which they occur. In connec- tion with this religious function an explanation may be found for that which is a stumbling-block to many a modern reader of Greek Tragedy, — the preternatural feebleness of expression which the Chorus so often affect. One form taken by the devotional spirit among the Greeks was a striving after the normal state of mind amidst a tumult of emotions. It is \n accordance with this conception of devotion that the Chorus make themselves the moderators in every dispute, and damp every outburst ; they reprove vice and discourage enterprise with equal gentleness ; there is no restraint to their lyric passion in dealing with things divine, but they enter into human emotions— as in the welcome to Agamemnon — only with chilling qualifications. They have, in fact, contributed a new style to poetic expression — ideal- ised commonplace. Again, the Chorus is treated as the representative of the audience when the poet utilises their odes for the puri)ose of bringing out any features in his story which he wishes the audience to have in their minds during the play, but which are outside the field of action. The crime of Helen and the sacrifice of Iphigenia one the cause of the expedition which is kee|)ing Agamemnon absent, the other the motive of the vengeance prepared for him on his return— are both of them incidents which occurred many years before the action of the pl;iy com- mences. Aeschylus can lead the Chorus, and through them the audience, to meditate upon these scenes, and realise them with all the emphasis imaginative poetry can afford, precisely at those points of the i)lot where they will be most effective. But more than all this, the Chorus reflect the audience in the way they are made to meet successive incidents of the FUNCTIONS OF THE CHORUS. 69 hr annth'd in tJic audi en tL . drama with just the rhnnges of feeling whirh the ])lay is('ii\r. Ill intended to produce in the spectators themselves. Nowhere is this function fulfilled with more force and subtlety than in the Ai^aiuouiwn. 'J "he whole play is the dramatisntion of a doubt, and the Chorus sway between triumph and misgiving until the doubt is for ever solved in the < nt.jsliophi'. Odes setting out to celebrate veiigcnice ni) sleriously ( onie round to fear; scenes in which the Chorus receive good fuws lead them, by natural changes, to [)resentinients of doom ; the anxious caution of the Chorus to avoid in themselves the most afcidenlal tou( h of presumption is at onr e neiitr.ilisc d when presumption is acted by ( .1) l.iiiuiestra's (ontri\;nice before their eyes. The peculiar excitement an audience naturally feel in face of a crisis they must witness while • they may not interfere is m.-ignified in the Chorus, \s\\i) are plainly told of the coming ( rime, and yet are forced by the spell of .*\j)ollo to disbelieve Cassandra until too late. And the total transformntion that comes over the C^horus upon the sudden thought of the future rivenger filly r f)n\eys the passage of the audience in a drama from the distraction of suspense and jiity to the dramatic satisfaction which serves as a final position of rest. We sometimes speak of 'trans- portini; our minds' to n distant scene: the o[)eration wns literally at (f)nii)lishe(l \\\ a Creek tnigedy, where the ('horns were ambassadors from the audience projected into the midst of the story, identifying themselves with the incidents represented without ce.ising to be identified with the |)ublic witnessing the I'lay. 2. The Ijyric Element in Ancient Tragedy. The lyric element -or, as it may fairly be culled, the The lyric operatic element— in Ancient Tragedy centres around the "!r"''"^, '" Chorus, and is two-fold : the odes separating or mtroducing t^vo-foU. 70 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. Ilf. r. C/ioi ai Oiks. Contparcii 7i>i//i Hihli. cal Rsal/ns. (K/l's not tfi'tit f>(h/ns, and ahiuiys character- ised. Psalms antiphonal in clauses: the dramatic scenes the Chorus have to themselves, at the same time when they take part in the episodes tliey some- times give these a lyric character. 'I'hcse two functions of tlie Chorus may he considered separately. The Clioral Odes of the ancient drama introfhice us directly to the lyric poetry of Greece. The lyric poetry most familiar to modern readers will be the Psalms of the Th'ble : it is interesting to compare these with the odes of Tragedy, so far as literary form is concerned. Two funda- mental differences at once reveal themselves, 'i'he choral odes arc not separate poems composed on particular suhjecis, hut arise out of situations si)ringing uj) from time to time in the course of the plot. A Biblical psalm may of course be a descriiHion of a situation, just as it may treat any other subject, but it will be an independent poem, complete in itself and self-explaining. Again: the associations of oratorio lead us to think of a ' chorus ' as an abstract musical form, not bound down to any particular performers; a (Ireek Chorus never loses its characterisation, but is a defmite band of performers— Argive Women, or l':iders of Thebes— whose personality enters into all they sing. No doubt many of our Hebrew psalms were composed for priests, or for the king : but characterisation is not essential to this form of composition. Side by side with these differences there is one striking resemblance of form between Hebrew and (;rcck lyrics, which resemblance, however, is at the same time a contrast! Both are highly antiphonal: but the antiphonal treatment is differently applied in each. In the Biblical psalm the parallelism relates to the structure of each individual verse*, 'i'hat which makes a * verse' in Hebrew poetry is not, as with us, metre, nor, as with the Greek and Latin languages, » The ' verse' in Hebrew and Classieal poetry corrcsi.oncis to the ' line ' of Lnjjhsh poetry. CHORAL ODES AND BTBLICAL PSALMS. syllabic quantity, but simply parallelism of clauses. verse must consist of two members — The Lord of Hosts is with us; The (iod of Jacob is our rchit^e: or of three — He makcth wars to cense unto the cud of the cnrlli: He breakcth the bow, and euttith the spear in sunder; He burneth the chariots in the fire: while various modes of combination extend these fundamen- tal forms into a variety of figures', all of them retaining the eflect of parallelism and inviting antiphonal rendering -. \v\ * Thus there may be a quatrain : — With the merciful Thou wiU show Thyself merciful ; \\ ilh the p( ifrci mail 'i hou wilt show Thyself perfect. Or a quatrain reversed : Have mercy upon me, O (Iod, Aecordint; to Thy hivinj^'kindness, And aceordiuL: unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies Blot out my transgressions. An examjde of a triplet reversed is Isaiah vi. lo. Another figure may be made by a couplet of triplds, or even a triplet of triplets, as in the first verse of the first |>sahn, which speakn of the man that walkcth not in the counsel of llu' ungodly, nor stnndclh in the \\.\\ of sinners, nor sittclli in the sett of lite scoinfiil, A rough division into figures is observed in the printing of the Kevind Version. 2 Modern ehaunting of the psalms is arbitrary, and by no means corresponds to their real structure. I am not awaie that any attempt 7» Oi/rs avii- phonal in '.fiiii .1 . ■h 72 CHORAL TRAGEDY, CLASSIFICATION OF CHORAL ODES, Chap. III. Greek there is no such parallelism of clauses, its verses being determined by syllabic quantity. On the other hand, the choral ode is characterised by the strictest parallelism of stanzas, the antistrophe reproducing the measure of the strophe ; and this, it has been pointed out \ connected itself directly with antiphonal rendering in the dance. Whether such strophic form characterises Hebrew poetry it is difficult to determine. The psalms fall naturally into divisions, to which modern commentators apply the term ' strophes ' ; but the parallelism of such divisions is, as a rule, only faintly marked. Occasionally the antiphonal effect in the psalms is very strong. In the latter part of the twenty-fourth psalm the summons to the everlasting doors to open is, as it were, met by a challenge from within : Who is the King of Glory? to which there is the response — The Lord, strong and mighty; The Lord, mighty in battle. Again— in a manner suggesting the passage from one to another in a series of out-posts— the summons is repeated, and once more the challenge follows: the reply gathers force with each repetition — The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory, But such antiphonal effect belongs to sense, not to structure ; and has analogy rather with the breaking up of a Greek has been made to mark the difference between double and triple verses though It is obvious that musical devices for this purpose would be easy Attention has been turned of late years to the matter of conveying musically the ' strophic ' structure of the psalms: see Canon Westcott's Paragraph Psalter (Deighton, Bell & Co., i..), The Golden Treasury />.a//.r (Macmillan 3^. 6^.), and Dr. Naylor's musical rendering of Psalms Ixxviii and civ (Novello, 4^/.). ^ See above, page 9. \ 13 I Chorus into semichoruses, than with the response of an Chap. III. antistrophe to its strophe. To pass from form to matter, the choral odes of Tragedy Classifica- admit of a simple classification. By far the larger number ^^^^ ^ will be Odes of Situation, conveying the state of affairs in Odes. the play as between the situation just concluded and the Odes of scene which is to follow. All the odes in Oedipus King are '^^^"^^^^«- good examples of this class, being clear expressions of the several stages in the action of that play. The prologue having been occupied with a suppliant procession to Oedipus, be- seeching him to become a deliverer from the plague as he had formerly been a deliverer from the Sphinx, the first ode paints the city crushed beneath its affliction, and the heaps of corpses unburied with none to lament ; while they call on every god for assistance the hopes of the Chorus are in the oracle, which messengers have been sent to bring from golden Delphi. In an episode this response is brought, bidding Oedipus discover the murderer of the late king. The Chorus at once give themselves up to wondering where in the whole world the wretched murderer can be, flying the wrath of heaven, with immortal hate pursuing him and the snares of destiny spreading him round. In the next episode the investigation is commenced, and it seems to cast doubts on the trustworthiness of the oracle itself : Oedipus cries out that the oracle is doubly false. The Chorus, shocked at this defiance, pray for themselves that they may be kept ever in the paths of virtue, in unbroken obedience to eternal law. Again, the investigation becomes distracted from its main purpose by the light it seems to be throwing upon another mystery — the doubtful question of the king's birth : the chain of evidence is made complete except for one link, and the herdsman is sent for who will supply this. The Chorus fill up the interval with an ode in which they catch the hope that by to-morrow the whole stain will be purged from the origin of their beloved ruler. Ill, 72 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap^III. Greek there is no such parallelism of clauses, its verses being determined by syllabic quantity. On the other hand, the choral ode is characterised by the strictest parallelism of stanzas, the antistrophe reproducing the measure of the strophe ; and this, it has been pointed out \ connected itself directly with antiphonal rendering in the dance. Whether such strophic form characterises Hebrew poetry it is difficult to determine. The psalms fall naturally into divisions to which modern commentators apply the term * strophes' • but the parallelism of such divisions is, as a rule, only faintly marked. Occasionally the antiphonal effect in the psalms is very strong. In the latter part of the twenty-fourth psalm the summons to the everlasting doors to open is, as it were met by a challenge from within : Who is the King of Glory? to which there is the response— The Lord, strong and mighty; The Lord, mighty in battle. Agafn-in a manner suggesting the passage from one to another m a senes of out-posts-the summons is repeated and once more the challenge follows : the reply gather^ force with each repetition— ^"lers The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory. But such antiphonal effect belongs to sense, not to structure; and has analogy rather with the breaking up of a Greek has been made to mark the difference between donblp .nH , ■ , tiongh it is obvioos that musical devices fnr^h ^'^ ^"^'^^ Attention has been turned o lat^aj To /h/'T'T" '"^'•^^• masically the 'stroDhir • «fr„., ^'^/f^ '» "le matter of conveying Psalter iMacmiilan. jrtT'and D^ N,' " ' ^'"•''f'^" ^'"^"-^ Psalms Ixxviii and civ (Novelloi) "^ '""^"'"^ °^ ^ See above, page 9. CLASSIFICATION OF CHORAL ODES. 73 Chorus into semichoruses, than with the response of an Chap III antistrophe to its strophe. L ' To pass from form to matter, the choral odes of Tragedy Classijira^ admit of a simple classification. By far the larger number ^'''' ^f will be Odes of Situation, conveying the state of affairs in o'l7^ the play as between the situation just concluded and the Odes of scene which is to follow. All the odes in Oedipus King are ^^^''^^^on. good examples of this class, being clear expressions of the several stages in the action of that play. The prologue having been occupied with a suppliant procession to Oedipus, be- seeching him to become a deliverer from the plague as he had formerly been a deliverer from the Sphinx, the first ode paints the city crushed beneath its affliction, and the heaps of corpses unburied with none to lament ; while they call on every god for assistance the hopes of the Chorus are in the oracle, which messengers have been sent to bring from golden Delphi. In an episode this response is brought, bidding Oedipus discover the murderer of the late king! The Chorus at once giwQ themselves up to wondering where in the whole world the wretched murderer can be, flying the wrath of heaven, with immortal hate pursuing him and the snares of destiny spreading him round. In the next episode the investigation is commenced, and it seems to cast doubts on the trustworthiness of the oracle itself: Oedipus cries out that the oracle is doubly false. The Chorus, shocked at this defiance, pray for themselves that they may be kept ever in the paths of virtue, in unbroken ' obedience to eternal law. Again, the investigation becomes distracted from its main purpose by the light it seems to be throwing upon another mystery— the doubtful question of the king's birth : the chain of evidence is made complete except for one link, and the herdsman is sent for who will supply this. The Chorus fill up the interval with an ode in which they catch the hope that by to-morrow the whole stain will be purged from the origin of their beloved ruler. li I 74 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap^III. But this missing link is found to reconcile the apparent dis- crepancies in the oracle, and to pronounce Oedipus at once the son and the murderer of Laius. Accordingly the Chorus in their final ode fall back from hope to the lowest de- spondency, and see the fleeting state of all human glory instanced in the change of Oedipus the supremely blest into Oedipus the parricide. fortl "'" ^" ""^^ ""^ ^^^' ^>'P^ ^' ^ powerful weapon in the hands of phasising ^ dramatist who has occasion for making a particular situation a situation, emphatic. In Antigone the opening situation is the victory of the preceding day. It is a victory in which are latent all the elements whose conflict is to make up the play : there is the patriotic death of one brother, the fall of the traitor which unlocks again for him the afl^ection of his sister, and the infatuation of the victor which is to carry him beyond humanity and plunge him in a crushing reverse. Accord- ingly, Sophocles concentrates his powers upon a morning song of triumph \ The sun which the Chorus of Thebans see rising before them is the same sun which yesterday was advancing his quiet course over the current of Dirce, while beneath he watched the headlong flight of the foe : that foe which had come from Argos in such proud array, a flight of eagles lured on by a traitor, their wing-shields aloft like snow, their mane-crested helms hanging over the city's seven portals. But eagle was encountered by dragon ; and Zeus, that never relents to haughty speech, smote the foe even with victory on his lips. Death-struck, he lies on the earth in an instant down-dashed; Dark is the torch that he flourish'd in hostile fury; He rush'd, snorting with rage. Pressing onward first to engage, Scaled the wall But to fall ! All, soon or late, Eow to their fate ! * Antigone J loo. Wz^i-^£~ \ CLASSIFICATION OF CHORAL ODES. u They continue to tell how in every gate man met man in Chap. III. deadly strife : but most dread was the meeting of the two who owned one sire and one mother, who thrust and fell and were together in their death. Then came victory and fame for Thebes : and the Chorus will waken the revel until every shrine is shaking with the dance and hymn of joy. A situation will occasionally arise in a drama which is or for a lyrical in its nature, and so lends itself in a special •^^''''^^?'"^ degree to choral treatment. In the Rhesus, one of the ^T^n'' '^' odes embodies a military evolution, a change of the watch. The words of the strophe may very well have been set to the actual motions of a soldiers' dance, with clash of weapons to bring out the rhythm. Who now before the camp keeps guard? Who to relieve me is prepared? The stars are sinking from the skies, The rising Pleiads show the approach of day; High in mid-heaven the eagle flies: Awake, arise: why this delay? Awake, the watch forbids repose: See, the pale moon a fainter lustre throws; The dawn is nigh, the dawn appears. See you yon star the heavens adorn? 'Tis the bright harbinger of mom, New risen, his gold-encircled head he rears. Breaking into two halves, the Chorus in rough dialogue run over the order of the watches, and find that the Lycians are due to succeed them. They close again into a chorus and work through the antistrophe, with softer motions (we may suppose) to express the exquisite moment when the sounds of night have not ceased and the sounds of day are beginning. Where silver Simois winds along, I hear the sweet bird's mournful song: High-seated on some waving spray To varying chords the warbling nightingale Attempers her melodious lay. And pours her sorrows through the vale. » m ^ X 76 Chap. III. Ot/es of Nature. CHORAL TRAGEDY, The flocks now feed on Ida's height, Loud shrills the pastoral pipe, and charms the night. O sleep, I feel thy soothing pow'r: Gently it creeps my eyes to close. And seal them in a calm repose ; Sweet thy approach in mom's o'erlaboured hour. Once more falling out of rank, the Chorus exchange fears with one another at the continued absence of their spy ; they then march out in a body to rouse the Lycians, and leave the scene unprotected for the critical moment of the play ^ A second class of choral odes will be the Odes of Nature. It must be understood, however, that the influence of nature * ^^^5^^,527.— Other Odes of Situation are: Choephori, 770, Prayer at a Crisis and (921) Exultation when the Crisis is past ; Seven against Thebes, 78, a Panic Ode; Phanissce, 202, Travellers to Delphi detained in Thebes by the siege. A peculiar case is Hercules, 874, where the Chorus, having been miraculously granted a vision of Madness on her way to smite the hero, fall into an ode of lamentation which in reality depicts the scene actually going on within. Sometimes the situation is more distinctly moralised upon, as in Eutncnides, 468, Glorification of the conservative spirit ; Antigone, 584, A house under the curse of heaven ; Iph, Aul. 544, Moderation in love ; Hippolytus, 1 102, Longing for a humble lot in life. Analogous in Biblical poetry are Deborah's Song of Triumph (Judges, chapter v), or David's lament over Jonathan (2 Samuel i. 19-27;. Psalm xviii is put in the Authorised Version as A Song of Deliverance, and a very close parallel to an Ode of Situation is suggested by the heading of Psalm lix, ' When Saul sent and they watched the house to kill David.' But as a rule Biblical psalms of this nature convey a double situation, a transition taking place in the course of the poem ; e. g. Psalm Ivi, and especially Psalm Ivii, where the change comes in the middle of the middle verse.— Note an interesting parallel between the thought of Psalm Iv, verses 1-8, and Hippolytus, lines 732-751. Sometimes it is the General Situation of affairs in the play as a whole, rather than a particular situation, that is conveyed : Prottietheus, 405', The world mourning for Prometheus and his brother; Seven against Thebes, 276, Horrors of war sung by women; Helena, 1107, The whole story of Helen and Troy; Iph. Aul. 164, Sightseers describing the Grecian fleet. V ■; t I'll! \ I CLASSIFICATION OF CHORAL ODES, 77 over the mind of classic antiquity was different from that Chap. HI. which dominates modern and Hebrew poetry. We do not find Greek literature celebrating the phenomena of nature for their own sake, as in the twenty-ninth psalm, which, with the words * the Voice of the Lord ' running through it as a burden, is simply a lyric realisation of a thunderstorm in all its stages, from its first rumble on the waters of the north, through its full majesty overhead amid cedars breaking and cleaving flames of fire, till it passes away over the wilderness to the south, and the fresh gleam that follows makes the whole landscape a temple in which everything is crying. Glory. Still less does the ancient mind conceive the unity of nature, which in the hundred-and-fourth psalm gathers up the sights and sounds of the external and human universe — from the curtains of heaven and the messenger winds down to the wild asses quenching their thirst — into one symphony of nature, and presents the whole as waiting upon God : as satisfied, troubled, returning to dust, renewing the face of the earth, according to the varying operations of His Spirit. In classic poetry, on the other hand, the attraction is to particular spots and landscape. Euripides describes his fellow-citizens of Athens as moving through purest air in motion of delight, with the clearest of skies above them and an unconquered soil below. And Sophocles in extreme old age immortalised the scenery of his native village : — Our home, Colonus, gleaming fair and white; The nightingale still haunteth all our woods Green with the flush of spring. And sweet melodious floods Of softest song through grove and thicket ring ; She dwelleth in the shade . Of glossy ivy, dark as purpling wine, And the untrodden glade Of trees that hang their myriad fruits divine Unscathed by blast of storm ; Here Dionysus finds his dear-loved home. T National Odes. 78 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. III. Here, revel-flush'd, his form • Is wont with those his fair nurse-nymphs to roam. Here, as Heaven drops its dew, Narcissus grows with fresh bells clustered o'er, Wreath to the Dread Ones due. The Mighty Goddesses whom we adore; And here is seen the crocus, golden-eyed; The sleepless streams ne'er fail; Still wandering on they glide, And clear Kephisus waters all the vale; Daily each night and morn It winds through all the wide and fair champaign. And pours its flood new-born From the clear freshets of the fallen rain. The Muses scorn it not ; But here, rejoicing, their high feast-days hold. And here, in this blest spot, Dwells Aphrodite in her car of gold ^ National Odes constitute a small but striking section. The parode of the Persians includes a sort of national anthem, celebrating the Persians, the people stout-hearted, and their god-given task of wars, with the crash of towers, and the surge of horsemen, and the fierce sack. It is soon succeeded by an ode of national humiliation, emphasised with all the reiterations of oriental mourning :— 'Twas Xerxes led them forth, woe ! woe ! Twas Xerxes lost them all, woe ! woe! 'Twas Xerxes who with evil counsels sped Their course in sea-borne barques. Their own ships bore them on, woe! woe! Their own ships lost them all, woe! woe! Their own ships, in the crash of ruin urged, And by Ionian hands ^ » Medea, 824; Oediptis at Colonus, 668.— Other examples of this class ^TeHecuba, 444, or Troades, 197, Captives wondering to what regions of Greece they will be carried; Iph. Taur., 1089, Greek exiles fancying the voyage homewards. =» Persians, 106 and 260.— Another example of this class is the Patriotic Appeal m the Suppliants (of Euripides), 365. National Psalms in bcnpture are such as Ps. xliv, cxiv, Ixxx. \ ^ \ CLASSIFICATION OF CHORAL ODES. 79 No lyncs m Ancient Tragedy are more striking than the Chap, in Odes of Human Life. The Chorus in Prometheus take — occasion by the sufferings of lo to deprecate unequal Itt marriages: love is the theme of many odes; old age is 2^ celebrated in the Oedipus at Colonus, in the Hercules it is contrasted with youth ; if the woes of parentage are detailed m the Medea, its joys are sung in the Ion. But the great type of this class is the ode which, in Antigone, presents man as the chief wonder of nature. The rapidity of invention in modern times is apt to make us forget that the greatest marvels of all are the familiar things of every-day life : that the electric telegraph is no more than a slight extension to the grand invention of writing, while this writing in its turn must yield m mystery to the foundation-step in all human . intercouse, the invention of speech; that steam and the latest triumph of machinery, are insignificant beside the invention of fire or the discovery of iron. The Greeks lived near enough to the infancy of the world to gaze with awe upon the primal mysteries of human civilisation. Ac- cordingly, the Chorus in Antigone can inflame our sense of wonder by merely mentioning one after another the eariiest achievements of humanity :-the seafarer's great experiment, the hard-won victory over the brutes and the violence of nature, the agricultural miracle of the buried seed » returning in increase, the mystery of speech, of thought of the social bond, the mystery of death, the marvels of the arts, the mystery of religion, and as a climax the mysterv of sin. •' Wonders in nature we see and scan, But the greatest of all is Man ' ! Hymns and Ritual Odes are natural interiudes in a form of Hymm composition which is an outgrowth of religious ceremonial '""' ^''"'^ ' Odes. • Prometheus, 906 ; Oedipus at Colcms, 1 2 11 ; Hercules, 637 ; Medea .081 ; /.„, ,5, ; Antig^, 33a. In the Bible, Psalms xc, 4 , lZt( cxxviu, may be called Psalms of Life. ' ' ; ^ -^ — -— V 80 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Narrative Odes: Chap. III. We have already noticed the Spell of the Furies in the third, and the Sepulchral Rites in the second play of Aeschylus's trilogy ; in other plays we find an Ode for the Dying, and an Ode over the Dead \ The Antigone contains a Hymn to Bacchus, and the Ajax a Dance to Pan ; one of the odes in the Ion opens as a prayer to the goddess of poison. And when the Chorus seek to soothe Admetus in his bereave- ment their consolation takes the form of a Hymn to Necessity. Of all the Powers Divine, Alone none dares to approach Her shrine ; To Her no hallowed image stands, No altar She commands. In vain the victim's blood would flow, She never deigns to hear the suppliant's vow 2. One more class remains to be mentioned : the Narrative Odes, embodying traditionary legends, the point at which the epic and lyric modes of poetry approach nearest to one another. Sometimes an ode is entirely given up to a single story : we have seen how the first three odes in Agamemmn present the legends of Iphigenia, of Paris, and of Helen respectively. In other cases a situation arises in a play which suggests to the Chorus a series of similar situations in traditionary lore. Thus when Antigone, so noble in race and in the deed for which she is to suffer, is led forth to the rock which is to be her prison and her tomb, the Chorus re- call other great ones who have suffered the same cruel fate. They think of Danae, whose brazen tower was to her a cell of death parting her from mankind : yet she was of high lineage, and destined to receive Zeus himself in a golden shower. ^ Oedipus at Colonus, 1557, and Alcestis, 435. ^ Antigone, ixif,', Ajax.^^^y, Ion, lo^^; Alcestis,g62. IntheBible, Psalms xlv and Ixviii are examples of Festival Hymns, and No. cxviii is usually interpreted as a Ritual Psalm. embodying a single legend^ embodying a strittg of legends. STAGE LYRICS. 81 What can withstand thy will, O Fate, The gold, the ship, the shield, the gate ? Ah no! o'er all thou art triumphant. They think of the monarch of Thrace, who impiously sought to check the revels of the Wine-god, and in re- tribution wasted drop by drop away in the mountain cavern. And the rough shores of the Bosporus, with their rougher hordes of men, saw the cruel deed of blinding done on the sons of Phineus, while their mother perished in a cave, daughter though she was of the North-wind, and reared in his boisterous caves : Yet the lot which Fate had decreed She could not escape, it caught her ^ So far we have been concerned with those parts of a tragedy in which the Chorus are alone. But they also enter as a body of actors into the dramatic episodes ; from their first appearance they are regularly present to the end of the play, and all that happens is addressed to them.| Now the action of these episodes will often include matter of a lyric nature— public mourning, passionate contests, and the like : hence interaction takes place between the lyric and dra- matic elements, the metres and style of lyric poetry passing over at suitable points to include the actors. We thus get two new literary forms in Tragedy: the Lyric Solo (or Monody) by an actor alone, and the Lyric Concerto (or Com- mos) by an actor (or pair of actors) and the Chorus alternately. Both may be illustrated from the play of Sophocles which covers the same ground as the middle play in Aeschylus's Chap. III. 2. Choral Work in Episodes. ' Ani^gone, 944.— Compare Chocphori, 576, Dread deeds of Women; Alcestis, 568, Story of Apollo as a slave on earth ; Iph. Taur. 1234, the infant Apollo's triumph over Dreams [a parallel to the play itself, in which a prophecy has come true and a dream proved false] ; Iph. Aul. 1036, Nuptials of Peleus and Thetis; Hercules, 348, Labours of Hercules; Troades, 511, or Hecuba, 905, The night of Troy's capture. The second, third, and fourth odes in the Phcenissce carry on the local legendary lore of Thebes.— There are similar Narrative Psalms in the Bible, e. g. Ixxviii, cv, en. The Lyrii Solo (or Monody). 82 CHORAL TRAGEDY, K STAGE LYRICS, Chap. III. trilogy. At the point where (according to both versions) Orestes has made his appearance and again retired, Electra comes (in the version of Sophocles) alone from the palace to breathe the morning prayer by which she daily testifies against the deed her oppressors would fain bury in oblivion. The lyric style of a Monody is the natural medium in which to clothe so formal an act of lamentation, as Electra appeals to the holy morning light, and the air which wraps the whole world round, to be witnesses of her nightly vigils and daily mourning in memory of the father who fell, not by honour- able war, but by a traitor's stroke : — As they who timber hew Cut down a mighty oak, so him they slew; And from none else but me Comes touch of sympathy, Though thou wast doomed to die, My father, with such shame and foulest ignominy. Electra protests how she will outdo the nightingale, and pour out her sorrows by day as well as by night. Then she calls on the Powers beneath for vengeance : — O house of Hades and Persephone ! O Hermes ! guide of dwellers in the gloom. Thou awful Curse, and ye, Erinnyes, daughters of the gods, most dread, Whose eyes for ever see Men foully slain, and those whose marriage bed The lust of evil guile Doth stealthily defile. Come, come avengers of my father's fate I Come, send my brother back! For I the courage lack Alone to bear the burden of this evil weight. The Lyric Solo passes into a Lyric Concerto* as the Chorus silently enter the orchestra, and advancing towards the altar hail Electra as daughter of ill-fated mother : they gently reproach her for her unceasing lamentations, cursed * The Monody commences at line 86, the Concerto at line 121. 83 The Lyric Concerto {or Com- mas), though the deed be for which she weeps Elertr. f the stage c,„,.e, „„ ,,, of S stropht as X ' - "" ha. s h Chorus by the name • daughters of the W and true, recognises how theyfulfil every ofBce of friendshiD vet begs they will leave her to waste in sorrow alon T anXheT' '° ^'^ "'^^ ^'^ °^ "^^ ^'-' -P-<^ '•" And yet thou canst not raise Thy father, nor with wailing nor with prayer l-rom Hades' darkling ways And gloomy lake where all who' die repair ; meanwhile, the ceaseless lamentation is sinking the mourner herself from woe to deeper and unbearable woe £1"^! agam responds :— Plectra Ah, weak as infant he who can forget His parents that have perished wretchedly; Far more she pleaseth me that moumeth yet And 'Itys, Itys,' wails unceasingly, The bird heart-broken, messenger of Heaven. AH, JNiobe, most sad I To thee, I deem, high fate divine was given. I'or thou m cavern grot, Still weeping, ceasest not Wth a change of posture and movements the Chorus in a second strophe remind Electra that she is not the onW C^^:^Zrt ' '"^ " ™°"™ ■ *^'^ '^ IP^ianlt and Chrysothemis, there is another-happier in that he f, se'Tn OriT^H" '" '"'"^'^ ^'-^^ ^^ ^^-a sees m Orestes fresh matter for trouble : he mocks all her Take heart, my child, take heart ; St.ll mighty in the heavens Zeus doth reign Who sees the whole world, rules its every part: To Hun do thou commit thy bitter pain They bid Electra trust to the kind god Time, for neither G 2 84 CHORAL TRAGEDY. CiiAP^III. Orestes will forget, nor the Powers of the world beneath. But Electra complains that the larger half of life is gone and hope fails : no parent, no fond husband to guard her, she is an alien and slave in her own father's home. The Chorus cannot resist the infection of her grief, and, changing for their third strophe to gestures of despair, they paint the scene of Agamemnon's return, and the stern keen blow devised by guile and wielded by lust. Electra, from the stage, out-wails their wailing :— O day, of all the days that ever came Most hateful unto me I O night ! O woes of banquets none may name, Which he, my sire, did see ! For the foul deed which thus destroyed her father and herself together she invokes a curse from heaven, eternal grievings with guilt-avenging groans. The Chorus— accord- ing to the wont of Choruses— take alarm at this violence, and, passing to the other side of the altar, bid Electra re- member how she has already fallen from prosperity to desolate sorrow, and shrink from further conflict with the mighty. Electra (carrying on the antistrophe) is not blind in her wrath : she would fain be left to her weepings, which shall be endless. The Chorus, pausing in front of the altar, repeat that with all a mother's affection they counsel modera- tion. Electra heatedly cries. What moderation was there in the deed ? All honour and good forsake her, if she ever con- sents to clip the wings of her grief: — If he who dies be but as dust and nought, And poor and helpless lie, And these no vengeance meet for what they wrought, Then truly Awe will die, And all men lose their natural piety. With this epode the Concerto ends. The term ' Stage Lyrics ' is the generic name for these lyric solos and concertos, and a great variety of action finds / N ../ .7 STAGE LYRICS. 85 if" appropriate expression in this medium. We have alreadv r „. nofced the sepulchral rites carried on between Electra 1 J ' -"• Orestes and the Chorus in the trilogy. The return fromf^f between the bereaved Admetus and his faithful subjects • the finale of the Seven against Thebes is given up to the pubhc mourning after the battle. In the Ion the Chorus enter the orchestra as sightseers, and in concerto with the pr^st on the stage have pointed out to them the beauties of the temple. Just as the parode to EUctra is a visit of con- dolence, so the parode to Orestes is a scene of visiting the T ' . r.f "^ *' ^'^«^ ''"^'^'"g 'he voices and foot St PS of the Chorus, and the Chorus at one point performing a sleepmg spell. Later in the same play another concerto //„ Ck ■llustrates the degree to which stage lyrUenable the Ch'r ^ '^« "^ her plan of seumg Herm.one as a hostage, and spreads the --- Chorus through the orchestra to watch for the victim. £/cara. Divide, divide! witli careful view Watch yon tlie street, the entrance you. The Chorus at once separate : 1 Se»m/:o. Haste, to your stations quickly run i My watch be towards the rising sun. 2 Semicho. lie mine, with cautious care addrest. To where he sinlcs him in the west.' Electra. Now here, now there, now far, now nigh, . c • , H,"'? e'^'='"g f'»rt th' observant eye. I Semicho. With fond affection we obey. Our eyes quick glancing eve^ way. Electra. Glance through that length of hair, which flows . c 1 i!^ ""'"S °'^'' your shaded brows. Semicho. This way a man comes hast'ning down ; i?> , ., '^ ^"^ bespeaks some simple clown. Jiuctra. Undone, undone, should he disclose These couched, armed lions to their foes. I Semicho. He passes on, suppress thy fear, And all this way agam is clear. 86 7 Chap. III. CHORAL TRAGEDY, Electra. And that way doth no footstep rude Disturb the wished-for solitude ? 2 Semuho, This way no rude step beats the ground. But all is still, all safe around. Metrical Structure of Greek Tragedy. Six metri- cal styles : Blank Verse, Parallel {or Sticho- muthic) Verse^ The concerto continues all through the excitement of the supposed murder within, until Hermione arrives and falls into the snare ^ ^h^*"^"' IT.**^^ '■^^'''"' ^°™bination of odes with episodes here ,s added this power of changing in the course of an episode to stage lyrics, it will appear that Greek Tragedy possesses as a distinctive feature a very wide variety of metres for the purpose of conveying variations of feelin? and movement. Six metrical styles may be enumerated. 1 T.'^ ''"'' ^^''^'' ^'^'■^h, it has already been remarked, differs from English Blank Verse only by Ite addition of a single foot. ^ ^ 2. A distinct variety of style is produced when in dialogue remark and answer are identical in length. In the preTnl work this will be called Parallel Verse, the Greek tim i Stichomuthic-hterally, rows of speech. Parallel vTrse usually ,s made up of speeches each one line in leig h and in this form it is, in Euripides, sustained w£t' a break .^metimes for more than a hundred hnes together" In other cases the speeches are each a line and a half o; in he f"n ' '■ "' ''"' '■"'^^ °^ P^-"^"- -e '"-tra'tecl Oresi^s. Is this Electra's noble form I see. £/^c/r,. That self-same form indeed, in piteous case t""- f ^-=; ="^^. for this sad lot of thL. Om/... O form most basely, godlessly misosi^d 1 ' f '""''• 8«i ; Sev,„ against Thebes, 8,8-1007 • /<>« ,R. • ;r/ , , . Sophocles), I., ; Orestes, 140 and 1,4; j.-fi^' ' '^'^'^'"'"■"i^i bee above, page 16 ^note). ' An example is Ion, .64-368 ; compare in the same play <,34-,o.S. METRICAL STYLES IN TRAGEDY, 87 Chap. III. Electra. Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone. Orestes. Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless! Electra. Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan? It is as the scene reaches its crisis that the Hnes become shorter. Orestes. Of those that live there is no sepulchre. Electra. What say'st thou, boy? Orestes. No falsehood what I say. Electra. And does he live ? Orestes. He lives if I have life. Electra. What, art thou he^? 3. A third metrical style, founded on the trochaic foot, Accelerated may be called Accelerated Rhythm '^\ it is used for sudden ^^ ^^' outbursts in dramatic episodes, and may be exactly repro- duced in English : — Nay, enough, enough, my champion ! we will smite and slay no more. Already we have heaped enough the harvest-field of guilt ; Enough of wrong and murder, let no other blood be spilt ! Peace, old men, and pass away into the homes by Fate decreed. Lest ill valour meet our vengeance — 'twas a necessary deed. But enough of toils and troubles — be the end, if ever, now, Ere the wrath of the Avenger deal another deadly blow. 4. Midway between blank verse and the full lyrics oi Marchins^ a choral ode comes Marching Rhythm, distinguished by the ^ "'' prominence of anapaestic feet, which are banished from the metrical system of choral odes. The name suggests how • A curious example of Parallel Verse is in the Alcestis (387), where, as the Queen sinks, the responses become shorter and shorter : — Alcestis. As one that is no more, I now am nothing. Admetus. Ah, raise thy face ! forsake not thus thy children ! Alcestis. It must be so perforce ; farewell, my children. Adfnetus. Look on them, but a look. Alcestis. I am no more. Admetus. How dost thou? Wilt thou leave us so? Alcestis. Farewell. Parallel Verse is much affected by Shakespeare in his earlier plays ; see Richard II I , i . 2 and 4. 4. ^ Trochaic Tetrameter Catalectic. / 88 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. III. this is the regular rhythm for a Chorus-entry ; it is also used to convey any passing excitement in the course of a play. The metre does not suit the English language ; some idea of it may be given by the following attempt to imitate the opening lines of the parode to Agamemnon : — 'Tis the tenth weary year since the warfare began, The great vengeance on Troy: Menelaus the king, and his comrade in rank, Agamemnon, the two who from Heaven derive, Great yoke-fellows both, their sway over men, — These aroused vast hosts with their myriad ships. From this country to sail, In war irresi.^tible helpers. 5. Lyrics, chiefly Antiphonal (with strophe answered by antistrophe), are the regular measure for choral odes, and have been sufficiently illustrated. There remains (6) the variety of these which may be called Semichoric Excitement, where the Chorus breaks up into halves, or more numerous subdivisions, to express excitement or anxiety in dialogue. The literary importance of these metrical styles lies, not in the metres themselves (the analysis of which belongs wholly to the science of language), but in the transitions from one to another as a means of conveying transitions of mood and feeling. One delicate example of such transitions has already been mentioned, the variation in the movements of the Chorus itself between marching rhythm and antiphonal lyrics. When a Chorus is entering or quitting the orchestra, or when it is irresolute or merely excited, the language falls into anapaests ; as soon as it gives itself up to set emotion, such as is proper to an ode, the strophic arrangement pre- vails. This may be illustrated from the parode to Alcestis. The Chorus, old men of Pherae, come to the palace to en- quire for the Queen on this the day fated for her death. They enter the orchestra in two loosely formed bodies, scanning the outside of the palace for signs whether the dreaded event has taken place : Anti- phonal lyrUSf Semichoric Excite- ment. ^Metrical transitions rejecting transitions of feeling: between marching rhythm and anti- fhoncU \ lyricSj V -^ •*L h LITERARY EFFECT OF METRICAL CHANGES. 89 1 Semicho. What a silence encloses the palace! Chap. Ill, What a hush in the house of Admetus ! 2 Semicho. Not a soul is at hand of the household To answer our friendly enquiry — Is it over, all over but weeping? Or sees she the light awhile longer, Our Queen, brightest pattern of women The wide world through, Most devoted of wives, our Alcestis ? For a moment they give themselves up to a strophe of woe : — strophe Listen for the heavy groan. Smitten breast and piercing moan, Ringing out that life is gone. The house forgets its royal state, And not a slave attends the gate. Our sea of woe runs high : — ah, mid the waves Appear, Great Healer, Apollo ! They fall out of rank, and exchange doubts in marching rhythm. 1 Sejnicho. Were she dead, could they keep such a silence? 2 Semicho. May it be— she is gone from the palace? 1 Semicho. Never! 2 Semicho. Nay, why so confident answer? 1 Semicho. To so precious a corpse could Admetus Give burial bare of its honours? They unite again in a set antistrophe : — antistrop, Lo, no bath the porch below. Nor the cleansing fountain's flow, Gloomy rite for house of woe. The threshold lacks its locks of hair, Clipp'd for the dead in death's despair. Who hears the wailing voice and thud of hands, The seemly woe of the women? Once more they break into two bodies, and the anapaests recommence :— 2 Semicho. Yet to-day is the dread day appointed — 1 Semicho. Speak not the word ! 2 Sctnicho. The day she must pass into Hades — 1 Semicho. I am cut to the heart! I am cut to the soul! 2 Semicho. When the righteous endure tribulation, Avails nought long-tried love. Nought is left to the friendly — but mourning I / 90 CHORAL TRAGEDY. I Chap. Ill between lyrics and blank verse ^ t ri tr of. bet mc rh at betzueen blank verse and accelerated rhythm. \s Accordingly they settle finally into rank and perform a full ode which concludes the parode. The transitions thus traced are between one lyric form and another : the interchange of lyrics and blank verse with- in the same episode forms a still more powerful dramatic weapon for conveying variations of tone \ Attention has been drawn m a former chapter to the typical example of this effect-the finale to Agamemnon, in which so many and rapid changes of passion reflect themselves in varying rhythms : in particular, it has been noticed how, as the prophetic vision comes upon Cassandra, the versification bursts into strophes, the Chorus being more slowly drawn into the current of excitement, until, when the vision is complete, the whole returns to blank verse as into the calmness of despair. Electra, in the version of Sophocles after spending her emotion in the lyric solo and concerto' tells over again more collectedly her story in blank verse • and this IS a type of many similar situations \ The Ajax pves an example of a subtle transition : in a scene of lyric amentation over the hero's malady there is a sudden change to blank verse after the novel suggestion of Tecmessa, that his recovery of consciousness may prove a greater evil The dying scene in Alcestis is naturally in lyric metre : when the heroine rallies to make a last request for her children a change is made to ordinary verse. Once more, in the Orestes, the scene of watching by the hero's sick bed is conveyed in a lyric concerto: the sudden ceasing of the delirium followed by the awaking of the patient, is in- dicated by blank verse \ Especially powerful is the transition from blank verse to ^ Unfortunately, this effect is almost wholly lost in the cheap trans- ^li^lT^ («^ Sophocles) 254; compare \r. Antigone, 806-82 with ^ ^ * ^J<^''*'^^1\ Alcestis, 2%0', Orestes, 20^. \^ \ LITERARY EFFECT OF METRICAL CHANGES. 91 accelerated rhythm, as handled by Euripides. The typical Chap. III. example in his Hercules may be appreciated by the English reader with peculiar force in the translation of Mr. Browning. The scene represents the personification of Madness re- luctantly dragged by the messenger of heaven to the task of afflicting the hero. As long as Madness hesitates, she speaks blank verse ; when at last she yields, and abandons herself to her awful work, the metre bounds into the rapid rhythm, which is made still wilder in the translation. Madness, This man, the house of whom ye hound me to, Is not unfamed on earth, nor gods among; Since, having quell'd waste land and savage sea. He alone raised again the falling rights Of gods — gone ruinous through impious men. Desire no mighty mischief, I advise ! Give thou no thought to Here's faulty schemes ! Changing her step from faulty to fault-free ! Not to be wise did Zeus' wife send thee here ! Sun, thee I cite to witness — doing what I loathe to do! But since indeed to Here and thyself I must subserve, And follow you quick, with a whizz, as the hounds a-hunt with the huntsman, Go I will ! and neither the sea, as it groans with its waves so furiously, Nor earthquake, no, nor the bolt of thunder gasping out earth's labour -throe Shall cover the ground as I, at a bound, rush into the bosom of Herakles. And home I scatter, and house I batter. Having first of all made the children fall, — And he who felled them is never to know He gave birth to each child that received the blow. Till the Madness I am have let him go! Ha, behold, already he rocks his head— he is off from the starting-place Not a word, as he rolls his frightful orbs, from their sockets wrench'd in the ghastly race ! And the breathings of him he tempers and times no more than a bull in the act to toss, And hideously he bellows, invoking the Keres, daughters of Tartaros. Iris. Madness, Iris. Madness. -' A. ^ 92 I Chap. m. CHORAL TRAGEDY, • "Lfi'te r' ^°°'' "'°" ^^'^' --'^ - O.0.P0, ''^ ^ortaTsr -• "°" -"■^-' - 'he d.eadf„, shape no ^'oTStr '" ''^ ^- ^''-o-. -de Of tUe ho.e Analogous devices in Modem Drama. I / The question will sueeest i><:pif . i, .u metrical changes to convpf-' *^"'^' ""'^ "^^ of to the modern tl;r"""°"' °''°"' '"' '^"^^"'^^^ ''•e earl,p,a,s ort.^^:,^^^:^:?' '''''' ''' su^»,e. Night's Dream seem a 'sort off '" ^^■ blank verse of the play as a wholf B^ t ^K '°"''''' '° "'^ abandoned by Shakesnel! r ''"' "'^^^ '^"^ ^oon ■nterchange betwee„Trre Id "" °' "^f '^^^ P^-^"' feature of his style T !k f '"' '"'^''^'^ '^ « ^^ed such as Goethe's L./ '' '"'" ^°™«"''^ Dramas, occurs, includ nrprfr'Bn T'"^ ""^'^ °^ ">"- cent practice is^^d J, m^^'.^'^"' '° '''^ ^"- -^^//^^/..l The JTT r ^^"'^^'ssohn's treatment of 'eft .0 be spoL„\T:f;;:tu':?'" '" "'^ P'^^ '^^ ''- their recital a low orchest" , "'""'"'"' "^'^"S'^""' ■ncidental music tIhrhlvr?P'"''"^"'' ^"^ such ^evice m a weCl^dZr ^11^1^^-^"'-^^^ be remembered that the Modern Hr '' " """'' extent the representative of rncferr " °"'^ '° => P^'-' 'he lyric art of the modern woT'^'^^'^'- """^'"^ '^ possible transitions of feelL ° ft ?k ? °'"' *^P''^ ^» most subtle, can be adeo "f" . '"''''' ""'' '^^ outside the ductile tdtm'^lsr""' "■''°" ^^'"^ -ct^lL':;^: -ir'rtf • ^™-'-^ -^^ -t .se .he "^^abed and enhancS ' ""' '""'"^ ^«'«' °f '"e transition is J 93 8. Motives in Ancient Tragedy. Tragedy is a mode of thought, as well as a form of art : Chap III it Onlv will c^ri'rMTc T^^^4. „-.L 11 1 ., .... ' not only will serious poetry naturally be thoughtful, but it is impossible to construct a story on any considerable scale MoZl'i without Its reflecting conceptions of the social framework ^^'' and speculations as to the principles on which the world '^''"^"'y- IS governed. Ancient Tragedy is, perhaps, in a degree beyond any other form of drama a vehicle of thought • Its representation was connected with religious and political festivals ; it included, moreover, a lyric element which gave It the power of direct meditation in the choral odes, to sup- plement the more indirect embodiment of ideas in plot There is thus in the case of Greek literature a special importance in that department of Dramatic Criticism which reviews the thoughts, feelings, and interests underlying plays : at least, so far as these exercise a real influence on the conduct of a drama, inspiring it or, so to speak, carrying its incidents along. It is to these ' motive ' forces in Ancient Tragedy that the present section is devoted Destiny is the main idea inspiring Ancient Drama : what- Destinv ever may have been the religion of Greek life, the religion reflected in Greek Tragedy is the worship of Destiny This word embodies the feeling which ancient thinkers carried away from their speculations into the mysteries of the universe ; if they formed different conceptions as to these niysteries, the conceptions are found to be diff-erent aspects of Destiny. First, it is to be noted that Destiny appears as Des,i„y as an abstract Power or Force, not dearly coloured with ''«'^^"-'"' purpose :-Necessity (Anangkfe), the Irresistible (Adrasteia). ^'"'"• In the Prmmtheus of Aeschylus this aspect of Destiny is the Prom^. master thought ; the personages of the drama have signifi- '-^^ cance as they group themselves around the idea of Power This great play seems to fall at a point where two streams of poetic thought meet -allegory and raytholog}-, and ideas of / » / 94 CHORAL TRAGEDY. \\ ) "I I HAP^III. universal interest associate themselves with ^miliar legend- ary figures as they are handled in this pibt. Prometheus himself includes a host of lofty conception;^. In contrast to the rest, he is the Wisdom that sees the end from the beginning; he is the Art that contrives and evolves; Foresight is the suggestion of his name. He is immortal i denied the deliverance of death, he is omnipotent in suffer- ing. He embodies universal sympathy, and is the helper of gods and men : having already succoured the gods against the rude powers that preceded them, he is the only one who in the crisis of the far future can give to Zeus the secret of deliverance; while to men, when Zeus disregarded their feebleness, Prometheus gave fire— the first step which, once gained, makes progress irresistible. Himself is the sole thing outside the sphere of his sympathy : the taunt hurled at him by Strength is only another rendering of the taunt- He saved others, himself he cannot save. Zeus appears before us as the Power that Is : to most this seems Adrasteia, but Prometheus sees further, knowing the older Powers that Zeus overthrew, and the Power that is to come hereafter. Zeus represents an advance on the forces of the universe that had preceded him ; yet his action is all for self and his own reign, and he would have blotted out man in his impotence. Strength and the messenger god Hermes are the agents of Power, with no horizon wider than the system of which they are the limbs ; zeal in executing is their highest wisdom, scorn of opposition their noblest emotion. Hephaestus too is on the side of Power, for he shares the dynasty of Zeus. But his scope is wider : he is not a mere official, but contriving genius ; he remembers his kinship with Prometheus and how Prometheus saved the gods; moreover he vaguely catches the possibility of change in the order of things so surely established— Not yet is bora who shall release thee. We have Ocean— the ever-changing Ocean— standing for the ;i DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE, even now he comes to s™h ^''" ^'"^^" '° him ; — submission couched in the form J' '"'. """^ "^"""^^'^ °f of Prometheus-the wise mSm I ' "1°" ""'^^ '""^^ ^^at mouth means to know our W. '^'''^^' ^''''^'' « ^^ to the advice of Prlethe IwT u'' ""' ''''"' ^^^ and crowns his part T„ th "h ' "'""'^ ''^^ himself In compensation' Tf ,htt T '" ""''^^°- ^^-e Ocean for Chorus-pl womlr " ''' ^^"^'''-^ of s'de of suffering, thdr helrtT "^ ''"P'""^ '^^^^" '» 'he Prometheus for Ln'^eUhevTre '° S' ""'''^ ^^'"^ ^f as the daring thought of rei ^n. 7 "" '' '° '"^''^ «° ^r the ' sin ' of Prometheus ZZT '' '""^ "'^>' ^P^^^ of set their strength against twt«h ^R ''"' '^ "^^^^ '° the service of feasts and offerin'^ """"""■ "°^ f^'' '« with its strong hope and ch!erinf ' '° 'T ^° ^^^ ''^' ''fe Prometheus stnd' firm and H^^'°^\.^°"" '^' '^ss when sider their own safety TCwit^Tr '"' "^^ ^'^-"^ <^on. Prometheus, and are ^ epS , ''''''°" '^'^^ ^'^^s with about to send. One moS, " '" "'^ ''"">'' Z^us is the victim of Power Tn-rr'^'r '" '''' P'^>' ^ lo array of inevitable wo;sThTl?'"/^°™^'''-"« the fo„g the pitiless gods, lea™ „g tC '! ^^^^^ "pon her from solation, that fro^ her plet. "^"'"^ '"^^'■'^^'^ ^°n- Power that in the far futuTlv T """'' "'^ ^'^^'^owy 'Ws play the human d"ama!f T °" ^^"^^ ^'^"^ '" '•ts phases on the colossaT ,.1 T' " '''^'''"' '" all And all the while therXm^ 11^^^°'°^- The Irresistible-the march rS *^ background sight into this makes thThelolfp'"'' ''"' ""^' ''^ = 'ore- before which the omntotet? f 2^"'"^ '"^ '^' ?-«> -n vain, while for the rest tSdrh h ^"■°'""'' """^ '°«"es ■n blind submission! '" ^'^''''' •"^"'^' act is to bow Wisdom is thei. „h„ ^^^^^^ ^^^^.^ .y 96 CHORAL TRAGEDY. DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE. 97 King, CHAP. III. When this abstract force of Destiny makes itself felt in human affairs the * Irony of Fate ' appears as a measure of Iffa^^e'''^ its irresistibility :— a march of Destiny, relentless and mock- measurcs ing, through means and hindrances alike, never so sure as ^sistibuiiv ^^^^ ^^ ^^ opposed, using the very obstacles in its path as of Destiny, stepping-stones by which it travels forward. The Oedipus Oedipus King is a play devoted to this Irony of Fate. The city, overwhelmed with the plague, is bidden by the oracle to discover the murderer of its late king. Oedipus leads the search, vehement in his curses :— the audience catching the irony, for they know that he is denouncing himself The Chorus in their ode wonder in what distant secret spot the malefactor can be hiding, unconscious of the irony that they have him before them in the king they serve. The Seer, wishing for Oedipus's sake to conceal the truth he has been sent for to reveal, is by the taunts of Oedipus stung to a sudden outburst : — Thou art the plague-spot of the accursed land ! But here irony is encountered by irony, for all receive this plain truth as some mystic metaphor of prophecy. There is irony again in the way Oedipus gets plausibly on to the wrong track, seeing a possible motive for the Seer, that he may be making common cause with Creon ; and Oedipus goes on to press home this suspicion against his colleague in the sovereignty, adding fresh force to the overthrow he is preparing for himself Jocasta, seeking to pacify, begins to cast doubts upon oracles in general; telling how her husband Laius was doomed to die by the hands of his son, yet the son himself perished as an infant, and Laius was slain by robbers at the meeting of three roads. Her effort is mocked as a single phrase she has used takes hold of Oedipus : he too had slain a man at the meeting of three roads, and he tremblingly tells how the oracle had fore- warned him he should slay his father, and how, to avert the doom, he would not return to Polybus, but avoiding Corinth fell in with a traveller whom, in a quarrel Hp V\\\.r\ .. . in the rnarl f^ ^\. u \ quarrel, he killed at a turn Chap. iir. enquiry, but Oedipus must search into the storv nf ,h. credited, so thi OedipTs Z c^ J Z^TouL ''' mystery yet uncleared, how he .aslo beTeddeV to hi! n^other as well as to murder his father. But tha feaJ the n^essenger can himself remove, now that it is af^tf speak out : the Merope, who still lives at Corinth is no mother i im tir "'" '^°'''" ""'' ''''''■' 0^^'P- '•- found "f: L r "'^"^=^^"g^'■ Wmself gave to his queen In t::ii:t'':^z"^''^"';^ oedipus-stungiith J; -oiet^;trr---':-^^^^^^ f^o^-r r t - --- s^^ he doubting the prediction of the oracle that made 6edipu take the road on which he walked to fulfil it No Iffor throughout the play is made to hide the t uth buf adds another touch of discovery. The oracles, ht bee me more and more discredited as more and more evZncl came m, ead on to the final bit of evidence wwlh har monises all discrepancies in one ghastly truth A d.hen good fortune was complete but for one small doubt th! -pemng of this doubt plunges the whole in irl^tSaSe ide™\r ,t r rrh^rr ^"^ "^^ *^™ °"^- -'^ • r ^""» design emerges in the- passes governing force of the universe, Destiny becomes Providence! H 98 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Ion Chap. III. where, on the other hand, the absence of design in fate is ^ more prominent even than its irresistibility we get Fortune, dence : ^^ ^^ motiveless control of events ^ Two plays well bring out these two aspects of Destiny. The Ion is pre-eminently a drama of Providence. Its plot is a weaving together of incidents that are to restore a lost son to his mother through a tangle of fate in which the mother all but takes the life of her son, the audience looking on with calm faith, since they know from the prologue the god's purpose that day to undo an old wrong. The force of providential control is measured by the slightness of the circumstance that can restore the course of events when all is going wrong ; and never did greater issue turn upon slighter accident than in this story. The banquet in honour of the hero is in full course, the guests are standing to drink, the goblets are charged with wine and the poison adroitly slipped into the goblet of Ion : just at that moment a single word is overheard from the crowd of servants in the background and deemed by the fastidious ear of the young priest ill-omened. He bids the guests pour out the wine upon the ground, and ere the cups can be refilled a troop of temple doves flit about sipping the spilt liquor ; and the bird drinking where Ion stands dies "Fortune, instantly in convulsive agonies, and reveals the deadly plot. Jphigenia The Iphigenia among the Tauri, in its earliest part, might ^Taufi * ^^ ^^^^ seem a drama of Providence too. Here the audience — though in this case with no divinely revealed purpose to reassure them — have to watch a perplexed scene in which a brother is all but offered up in sacrifice by his own sister, the terrible deed being averted at the last moment by the slight accident of reading the address of a letter delivered to the victim's companion. Again the interest of the audience is fixed upon the long-drawn intrigue of escape, in which, by the finesse of Iphigenia, the barbarian king himself is made * It will be seen in the next section of this chapter that one form of tragic plot is founded on the conception of Destiny as Fortune. into ( DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE. 99 to bear a chief part in furthering the flight of his prisoners. Chap. III. But when all that contrivance can do has succeeded, at that moment— without suggestion of reason or purpose — by sheer accident a contrary wind springs up impetuous, and, in spite of straining oars and struggling mariners and praying priestess, by dead force rolls back the ship to the shore, until the fugitives are seized by their foes again, and deliver- ance is quenched in ruin. The two plays embody the two alternatives of the ancient doubters : — ■ O supreme of heav*n, What shall we say? that thy firm providence Regards mankind? or vain the thoughts which deem That the just gods are rulers in the sky, Since tyrant Fortune lords it o'er the world ! The fundamental notion of Destiny combines with other ideas that lie at the root of religion. It appears as the great moral sanction, and is identified with retribution. The Greeks formed two distinct conceptions of retribution — though these were conceptions that could easily coalesce. On the one hand, there was what might almost be styled artistic retribution, the * Nemesis,' which seems to be a reaction in the drift of things against excess, even though it be an excess of that which is not in itself evil. Just as in the legend Polycrates perished simply because he was too prosperous, so the general impression left by the Hippolytus is that no man can carry the virtue of temperance to such a height as it is carried by the hero of that play without drawing down upon himself ruin from a jealous heaven ^ On the other hand, Ancient Tragedy is full of the moral retribution which identifies the governing power of the universe with Justice (Dike); in particular, an ode in Agafuemnon directly declares for such Justice as against Destiny as the Moral Sanction : artistic retrihiitiofi i or Nem- esis ; moral re- tribution, or Justice ; * The case is somewhat difficult to state, because Destiny is in this play so clearly identified with Deity (see next paragraph). H 2 v' lOO CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. Ill the tzuo combined in Infatu- ation or Judicial Blindness. Nemesis, denying the old saw that prosperity grown big brings forth woe as its offspring, and contending that it is impiety which brings forth fresh impiety hke to the parent stock ^ But the form of retributive destiny which is most prominent in Greek Tragedy is that which is viewed from the standpoint of the victim. This is the leading dramatic interest of Judicial Blindness. Full well spake one of old, That evil ever seems to be as good To those whose thoughts of heart God leadeth unto woe. • Judicial Blindness includes both aspects of retribution : it is an Infatuation, or haughty Insolence ( Hybris), that is the natural precursor of Nemesis ; while, as a means of moral retribution, it is claimed by the Furies as their leading weapon in visiting crime— the frenzy born of guilt that hides from the sinner like a mist what sighing rumour is telling all around'. Such Infatuation dominates the Aga- memnoti, the Oedipus King, and the part of Creon in Antigone ; scarcely any play is without example of it, and the constant shrinking from such high-mindedness, even in Its faintest form, seems to constitute the 'conscience' of a Greek Chorus. ^^ course, among the root ideas of religion must be the changing conception of Deity; and if the devotion of the tragic unth thinker was chiefly to Destiny, ordinary life in Greece was permeated with the worship of the different deities. Ac- cordingly, we find in the drama a continual interchange between Deity and Destiny as the controlling force of the Destiny inter- * Agamemnon^ 727. ' ^'*^ie7iides, 355._Although such Judicial Blindness or Infatuation IS specially prominent in Greek Tragedy, yet in some form the idea is universal ; it even enters into the metaphorical language of Scripture ^e.g. Isaiah vi. 10; Exodus x. i). DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE, lOI universe \ The wavering between the two is exactly ex- Chap. III. pressed by Hecuba when facing a great and unexpected vindication of justice : — O Jove ! who rulest the rolling of the earth. And o'er it hast thy throne, whoe'er thou art. The ruling mind, or the necessity Of natu7'e, I adore thee : dark thy ways, And silent are thy steps ; to mortal man Yet thou with justice all things dost ordain. Often in Aeschylus, and notably in the Prometheus, Destiny appears as a power beyond Deity, to which Deity itself is subject : — Chorus. Who guides the helm, then, of Necessity? Prometheus. Fates triple-formed, Erinnyes unforgetting. Chorus. Is Zeus, then, weaker in his might than these? Prometheus. Not even He can scape the thing decreed. In the trilogy, on the other hand, it is a leading motive to identify Destiny and Zeus. The ode of triumph over Troy, starting with the thought that it is Zeus whose blow the conquered city is feeling, goes on to set forth the steps in the process of retribution on the familiar lines of infatua- tion :— impulse, secret and resistless, child of far-scheming Ate, leading on the evil-doer. And similarly the creed of the Chorus, as it appears in an earlier ode, while in the main fixing faith on Zeus, is equally inspired by simple fatalism : — For our future fate. Since help for it is none, Good-bye to it before it comes : and this Has the same end as wailing premature ^. But if this notion of Deity as the supreme power could Deity pass into the abstract idea of Destiny, it could also sink •^/^'^^'^^ ■' into J „, , Humanity 1 he element of plot known as Divine Intervention (below, page 191) enlarged : is an identification of Deity with Destiny. 2 Hecuba in the Troades, 884 ; Prometheus, 523 ; Agamemnon, 358- 389 and 241-248^ 102 CHORAL TRAGEDY. hence Rational- ism or Criticism of Deity. Chap. III. into the concrete idea of humanity. Humanity enlarged is the Homeric conception of Deity, and it is extensively (though rebelliously) followed by Euripides ^ The great study for it is his Rhesus, which is simply an incident from the I/iad dramatised. Here Artemis is associated with the game of war as a backer with contempt for fair play : bursting upon Ulysses and Diomede to scold them for giving up their venture, detailing straight out all the in- formation they are seeking, and then, in order to allow her proteges to pillage undisturbed, diverting the attention of Paris, for which purpose she borrows, with a touch of feminine spite, the form of her sister Deity, Paris's pro- tectress Aphrodite. From such presentation of divine personages we get as an inevitable consequence another dramatic motive— Rationalism, or criticism of Deity. Theseus in the Hercules enquires as to the gods : Have they not formed connubial ties to which No law assents? Have they not gall'd with chains Their parents through ambition? Yet they hold Their mansions on Olympus, and their wrongs With patience bear. Still more direct is the criticism of Amphitryon in the same play: Mortal as I am, In virtue I exceed thee, though a god Of mighty pow'r : for I have not betrayed The sons of Hercules. . . . thou art a god In wisdom or in justice little versed. » Compare the general treatment of his Prologues and Divine Inter- ventions, especially in the Ion and Hippolytus. Illustrations in Aeschylus are the parts of Athene and Apollo in the Eumenides Compare also Athene in the Ajax of Sophocles. It is true she does not mspire the malice of Ajax, but only intervenes to divert his rage into harmless madness : but the general impression left by Odysseus and Athene m relation to their common foe is that the deity differs from the mortal mainly in pitilessness. DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE, 103 Revelation: Destiny revealed ( I ) through Deity — the Oracle. It must be carefully noted, however, that the rationalism of Chap. III. Euripides is always open to the interpretation that it is not the gods themselves, but the accepted ideas about them, which are condemned. And this is expressly said by the speaker who answers Theseus : — I deem not of the gods as having formed Connubial ties to which no law assents, Nor as oppress'd with chains. . . . These are the wretched fables of the bards^. Another fundamental notion connected with religion is Revelation: the question will arise, how does Revelation stand in reference to the religion of Destiny? Destiny reveals itself in many ways, above all in the form of oracles. Fate being a thing of mystery, its revelation is naturally a mystic glorification of curiosity : oracles present an inevita- ble future in terms that are dim, ambiguous, equivocal, ironical; the dimness lessens as the issue advances, but the clear meaning or true rendering is only apparent when the fulfilment is entirely accomplished. Accordingly, what may be called the * Oracular Action,' that is, a train of events including an oracle and its fulfilment, and in which destiny is seen working gradually out of mystery into clearness, is one of the most common and most powerful dramatic motives. Two tragedies are special studies of this oracular action, the Maidens of Trachis and the Oedipus King, The peculiarity of the former is the number of different ora- cles that are gathered up in fulfilment as the plot moves • Hercules, 1316, 342, i34i._The Ion is a remarkable study of rationalism : doubts of Apollo are sown in the mind of his own priest, producing as the plot progresses bursts of censure (436, 131 2), while tho audience know that the incidents calling forth such censures are transi- tional steps m a process that is to vindicate Apollo's watchful care over Ion himself. Was Euripides dramatically expressing some dream of reconciliation between the thought and the religious tradition of his age? The Maidens of Trachis 104 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap^III. on. The opening situation is the anxiety of Deianeira for her absent husband. When she hears that he is in Eubcea, she bethinks her of true oracles Hercules had left her touching that same land— that he must either end his life there, or, his labours finished, rejoice all the rest of his days. This fatal indication as to place soon recalls a fatal indica- tion as to time : the oracle of Dodona which Hercules had told his wife, when on parting he gave her his will,— that an absence of a whole year and three months more would bring the crisis moment, when he must die or henceforth live unvexed. The two predictions unite in the immediate issue, and make the announcement that soon follows of Hercules returning in victory seem a pledge of final security. Accordingly, when the wife's joy in the victory is marred by the sight of the youthful captive who is to be her riv.al, no thought of possible danger for her husband occurs to inter- rupt the natural suggestion that this is the time to try the force of her love-charm. Now this love-charm is itself an oracle: the Centaur, slain by Hercules for insulting his bride, had with dying breath bidden her treasure up the clotted blood which oozed from his wound, for she should find it a charm over the soul of Hercules That he shall never look on woman fair, And love her more than thee. So she anoints a garment with this chrism, and sends it to the hero for a robe of triumph. This oracle begins to pass out of mystery into clearness when, after the robe is sent, Deianeira sees with horror the tuft of wool which she had used in anointing the garment burn in the sunlight to tmder. And the Chorus, their minds quickened by this awful mcident, recollect (too late) a still earlier oracle-that the twelfth earing-time should bring the son of Zeus a rest from toil : is it death that is to be his rest, and is Fate workmg out a subtle, great calamity ? The whole catas- trophe follows : the hero by his triumph-robe is in a moment f, \h DESTINY AS A 1)RAMATIC MOTIVE, 105 converted into a mass of burning agonies, and the wife Chap. III. at the news slays herself on her marriage-bed. When Her- cules, breathing curses against Deianeira, is at last made to understand the terrible mistake she had made, and hears the source from which she had obtained the chrism, in an instant the recognition is flashed into his mind of the last oracle he knows, the secret trust of his whole life, given to him by Zeus himself:— That I should die by hand of none that live, But one, who dead, had dwelt in Hades dark. So, as the story has moved on, five separate oracles have successively appeared, all pointing to the same event, all mystic and perplexing, yet all reconciled and made clear by the event. It will be noticed that these various oracles are brought to fulfilment in different ways : the prediction of the love-charm is fulfilled by Deianeira's seeking to obey it, the oracle as to the twelfth earing-tide comes to pass by the fact of its being ignored and forgotten. But the oracular action reaches perhaps its most intense interest when an oracle is brought to fulfilment by the very act of opposing it. This is re- markably the case in the Oedipus King. Laius receives an Oedipus oracle that his son is to slay him : he casts out the infant ^^^^ to perish, and as a result the child grows up in ignorance of his father and comes to kill him. Oedipus in his turn hears from the oracle that he is to cause his father's death : in avoiding his supposed father, he falls in with Laius and slays him. The two parties involved in a prediction, by the very course they severally take to frustrate the oracle, are in fact combining to fulfil it. In the case of oracles, the Revelation of Destiny is made by means of Deity ^ There is a second form of Revelation ^ In the same category may be placed (i) Madness, which was con- ceived as a species of inspiration. Compare Cassandra in the Agamem- / I io6 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap. III. {2) Destiny revealed through trained men-Sooth- saying. (3) Destiny self-re- vealed by accident — the Omen. through an order of specially trained men— Prophecy, Sooth- saying. Teiresias holds the same place of prophetic emi- nence in tragedy as that held by Calchas in epic. But perhaps the most striking conception of Revelation is that of the Omen, in which Destiny is self-revealed by accident. We have already seen in the trilogy the dread with which the Chorus seek to stop Cassandra from naming Agamem- non as the victim to be murdered, and how later the mere naming of the avenger is sufficient to transform the tone of the finale from despair to triumph ; how again in the Ion the chance word of a bystander, spoken too loud, vitiates an act of ceremony and thereby averts a catastrophe. It is only by the strongest effort that we can realise the power of such omens over the sensitively superstitious minds of anti- quity, so fully have we lost all sense of the mysterious properties of words, on which much of magic rested, which kept the Jews from writing the name of Jehovah and led the Greeks to call the ' Furies ' the * Blessed God- desses ':— an idea of some mystic bond between a word and the thing it signifies, so that to name a dread event would seem to have already brought it nearer. The verbal omen, however, is only a single one in a class of things, the common point between which is awe of the accidental. The casual flitting to and fro of birds, the exact appearance of the intestines in a newly-slain victim, the fitful play of a sacrificial flame,— all these were eagerly questioned by ancient superstition for signs of events to come. Things governed by law might even in the religion of Destiny be left to the calmer interpretation of reason; in the domain of chance, there seemed to be the direct control of Destiny itself. non. (2) Dreams : how these act as oracles may be clearly illustrated from Clytoemnestra's dream in the trilogy and the similar play of Sophocles. The dream in this case comes from Agamemnon, who after death is in some measure treated as a deity. DESTINY AS A DRAMATIC MOTIVE. 107 One more point is important for our survey of the dra- Chap. III. matic motives connected with Destiny. Strange as it may seem, this Destiny can be set in motion, or even controlled, ^^^ by man. In the * Erinnyes ' and ^ Ate,' the idea of which so '^'^^^'^^ h permeates Ancient Tragedy, we seem to get objective and 7"' subjective conceptions of Destiny as called into operation by anl'Itil human crime. In the Spell of the Erinnyes they pronounce themselves an eternal outcome of all-pervading Destiny ; they are the ' registrars of crime,' called into action by home- bred slaughter. That they have an objective existence is clear from the description of them as dweUing in thick darkness, apart from the gods, and sundered from all comradeship and rejoicing. On the other hand, their mode of attack— called in one line ' An Ate hard to bear '—is presented as something purely internal and subjective, with no suggestion of external force: it is a ^ chant of madness frenzy-working,' 'a spell upon the soul withering up the strength,' a * frenzy born of guilt' and acting through Ignorance of danger. Where the language approaches nearest to the idea of violence it still conveys the notion of a spiritual violence : it is a * driving up hill ' through this world and the next— suggestive of unresting impulse to flight or fresh crime, it is a * crushing force of feet o'errunning' the victim-the perpetual presence of his crime from which he can never escape. The whole amounts to a sort of haunting by fate, and such fate-haunting is in the trilogy extended to an entire household for generation after generation, the outcome of a single crime. In this case. Destiny is set in motion by human deeds : it could be aroused by human will in the Curse, as we see in the the Curse. Oedipus at Colonus : — Once before I breathed these Curses deep upon you both, And now I bid them come as my allies. These Curses sway thy prayers, thy sovereignty ! The curses on the sons of Oedipus, uttered in this play, / \ 108 CHORAL TRAGEDY. DRAMATIC MOTIVES, 109 Destiny controlled by man. Chap. III. become a part of Destiny itself, and are seen to sway the fate of their victims in the Antigone \ Where Destiny comes to be identified with Deity it is easier to understand the in- fluence upon it of man. Orestes even threatens the oracle that he will pollute it with his corpse if his prayer is not heard. But the most remarkable example of humanity con- trolling Destiny is in an incident of the i^^/^«a, which shows that the difficulty of conceiving foresight into futurity without its implying predestination of the future is a difficulty not confined to modern theology, but attaching equally to ancient prophecy. The fugitives are about to ask aid of the prophetess : before they can appeal to her she comes to oifer help. A council of the gods Will this day round the throne of Jove be held With no small strife on thee. She explains what the issues are, and continues : — On itie the event depends, should I inform, As Venus wills, thy brother that thou here Art present, and destroy; or, taking part With Juno, save thy life. She elects to save them, and from the sequel we are to suppose that the decision of heaven follows that of the prophetess^. Such is Destiny, as reflected in Ancient Tragedy. We conceive of the Athenians as a people of joy, Hving in a brilliant atmosphere, entering with fervour into religious orgies, weaving an imaginary world out of nature details etherealised. But all this must be viewed against a sombre background of fatalism, reaching beyond the gods, yet which might suddenly emerge in the most trifling detail of experi- ^Oedipus at Colonus, 1375-96.— The Oath seems in a somewhat similar fashion to pass into a binding Destiny. Its whole ritual is given m Medea (731-758). * Orestes in Iph. Tatir. 970; Helena, 878. A / ence, wavering between kind Providence and reckless Fortune, the eternal sanction of right yet wearing at times the form of human passions, revealing itself only in delusive mystery, capable of being set in motion by man, yet once aroused needing only opposition to draw out its malignant irresistibility. I pass on to other dramatic motives, which are not specially connected with Destiny. A prominent place must be given to the Interest of Horror. The terrors of the supernatural world were introduced upon the Greek stage : ghosts frequently appear. Death is a personage in the Alcestis^ and in the trilogy even the Furies are brought before the audience in visible shape. Still more terrible are the unnatural horrors of the real world. A banquet of human flesh is the foundation of the tragic legend with which the Sons of Atreus are connected. Incest and matricide, on which such great tragedies turn, are a sore trial to the modern reader ; only it should be remembered that the remoteness of the mythic stories from ordinary life tends to neutralise the grossness of such ideas. Madness and delirium possessed a strong hold on the ancient imagination. The ravings of Cassandra, and of Phaedra in the Hippolytus, besides their importance to the plot, are powerful subjects for stage lyrics ; while Euripides, usually the great master of pathos, shows how he can handle the terrible in the drama in which he uses a moment's madness to transform Hercules from the deliverer of his children into their destroyer. For violent passions. Tragedy is the natural field ; and the types for all time of revenge and gloating will be the Clytaemnestra of Aeschylus, and Medea holding up her slaughtered children to the father who has slighted her. Even Human Sacrifices can enter into early Tragedy, and the offering of Iphigenia, besides being vividly pourtrayed in a choral ode of the Aga7nemnon, is in thought present throughout the whole trilogy. Euripides seizes upon this extinct barbarity in order Chap. III. Other Dramatic Motives. Interest of Horror : especially. Human Sacrifices, ■n-:.' > -rr no CHORAL TRAGEDY, DRAMATIC MOTIVES. Ill Chap. Ill utilised by Euripides for Vol- untary Self, sacrifice. Iphigenia in Aulis . to found on it a new moral interest : human sacrifices in his plays take the form of voluntary self-sacrifice, and in no less than four' of his plays a human being voluntarily and in cold blood gives his life for others. In the Iphigenia in Aulis the sacrifice comes as the so- lution to a tangle of fate that has drawn closer and closer with the movement of the play. The deed had been secretly planned, and Iphigenia summoned on the pretext of being wedded to Achilles. At the opening of the play the father is recalling the summons :-his letter is inter- cepted by Menelaus. A fierce quarrel rages between the brother chiefs :-it is interrupted by the announcement that Iphigenia is on her way. By the shock of this announcement Menelaus ,s most unexpectedly brought round, and he will not allow his cause to be saved by so dread a deed; Aga- memnon, still more unexpectedly, is turned in the opposite direction, and he dares not, once his daughter has been seen in the camp, rob the army of their sacrifice. When Iphigenia arrives she is accompanied by her mother, who refuses all proposals to separate the two ; moreover, a chance meeting with the designated bridegroom reveals the whole deception Agamemnon has to face the pleading of his family, and he— so inclined to relent at the commencement of the play-is now hard as adamant, while from Achilles comes the un- expected offer of help. So perplexed have become the threads of safety and ruin in the web of the maiden's destiny when suddenly the action of the play quickens (a quickening reflected in the accelerated verse): a tumult IS heard without, the army have got scent of the chance that they may lose their victim, and are approaching on all sides the royal tent-in an instant the decision must be made. • Besides the plays of Alcestis and ///,. Aul. there is the case of a fifth^r P' °'^'''"'' ^'° ^''""'' •°°-4«) ^y be reckoned 1 Then it is that Iphigenia is suddenly inspired with the Chap III heroic resolution that solves the whole perplexity. — To be too fond of life Becomes not me ; not for thyself alone, But to all Greece a blessing didst thou bear me. hhall thousands, when their country suffers lift Their shields, shall thousands grasp the oar. and dare Advancing bravely 'gainst the foe to die For Greece ? And shall my life, my single life, Obstruct all this? ... I give my life for Greece. May me, and lay Troy low: my monument hhall be Its ruins ; for my nuptial bliss And mother's joys, I take my country's glory ! So, While all others are dissolved in agony, the maiden herself gives the directions for the ceremony, restraining her tears est she mar the perfectness of the rite; she moves to the place of sacrifice in full lyric state, singing farewell to ' her country and hymning the cruel deity to whom she is to be offered. Allowing none of the attendants to touch her she holds out her own throat to the knife-then, as all breathless turn aside their eyes, the miracle is wrought which substitutes a bleeding hind for the human victim while the virgin has been snatched away by the virgin goddess to whom she had given herself, and hidden in the viewless realms of the gods. Int^rl/%' rri"'"' *''"" *" ^"'""'^' °f «°"°^ i= the Interest of interest of Splendour. This centres around Apollo who ^P^'^""''- deifies brightness in all its forms : physical brightness is his, and the suns rays are arrows from his bow; he is the foun- tain of creative genius and artistic elevation, and of prophecy -as It were flashes of insight into the future. Apollo is a figure m various plays, but the drama which most needs consideration in the present connection is the Alcestis. No ^'«^'«- venture to add, none is so much misunderstood. The story 'f^d. * is read in the light of modern family life-how when a hus- T' %r ""~^:;\ N^ 112 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Chap^III. band obtained from Fate permission to die by substitute, and when no other substitute was forthcoming, the wife gave herself to die for Admetus : and the reader's chief thought IS the mean-spiritedness of Admetus in accepting such a sacrifice. But not only is this impression inconsistent with the treatment of Euripides, who exalts Admetus as a man supreme in moral elevation, it further diverts attention from a more beautiful moral that does underlie the play. MmUdon '^^^ mistakes arise from ignoring this difficult, and emi- a Greek "ently Greek, sentiment— the worship of brightness and 7e'Z7ship 'P^^"^^"^- It takes many forms : two aspects of it are of bright, important for our present purpose. One is the supremacy ness. of youth. Our reverence is for age and its wisdom; we almost apologise for enjoyment, and consider youth a synonym for folly. With the Greeks it was youth and its joys that gave value to life; and for age to claim equality with youth seemed ' unnatural' baseness. This view appears again and again throughout the Akestis. To the personages in the play the question is not of Admetus's accepting a substitute : that they take for granted,-no one thinks of his doing othenvise, except the rightful substitute who is finding a miserable plea for his own cowardice. To them the meanness lies in the fact that the youthful Alcestis is the one allowed to die. The whole point of the terrible episode in which the son reproaches his father with cowardice may be summed up in a single line :— Is death alike, then, to the old and yonng? In the prologue Death is asked why he does not choose ripe lingering age for his victims: he answers- Greater my glory when the youthful die ! And the Chorus— who, it must be remembered, are the embodiment of the impression to be left on the audience- put the whole matter on this footing :— /I "3 Chap. hi. DRAMATIC MOTIVES. When, to avert his doom. His mother in the earth refused to lie; Nor would his ancient father die To save his son from an untimely tomb; Though the hand of time had spread Hoar hairs on each aged head: In youth's fresh bloom, in beauty's radiant glow, The darksome way thou daredst to go And for thy youthful lord's to give thy life. Again, a second side to the worship of brightness is the d.gn,ty of hospitality. With us hospitality is no more than one of the lighter graces of life; in antiquity it was one of the loftiest motives, on a par with patriotism, or with the dommant sentiments of special ages, such as chivalry and hberty ; to the Greeks hospitality was a form of worship Now this religion of hospitality, and the whole worship of brightness, finds in Admetus its supreme type. He is not only a type for his age and for the whole earth, but heaven Itself recognises his glory, and Apollo, the very deity of brightness, has chosen Admetus's home in which to abide while on earth ; he still regards Admetus as his dearest friend, and ' holy' is the epithet he applies to him. The Chorus-with their function of keeping prominent the central ideas of the story- are at a crisis of the play reminded, by a fresh act of hospitable reverence coming from Admetus, of the glories that attended Apollo's sojourn with their king : how at the sound of his lyre beasts forgot heir fury and flocked round the divine shepherd, the ion looking on while the dappled hinds came from the mountain forests to dance ; how as a consequence plenty flowed in from all sides, and made the splendid domain that stretches unbroken from lake to sea. This identification of Admetus with the religion of bright- Idcniiji- ness and hospitality is no mere accessory to the story it is ""'"' "f made the key to all the action of the drama. The op'ening ^7^ situation rests entirely on this foundation : it is Apollo's ■'""'''''P 'f 114 CHORAL TRAGEDY, brightness the key to the 'whole action of the play. Chap. III. interest in the great pattern of hospitality that has forced the Fates to give way and allow a vicarious death. Simi- larly, at the turning-point of the plot, the new triumph of hospitable duty and repression of personal grief in the reception of Hercules rouses the Chorus to enthusiasm, and brings the first gleam of hope into the play. And, as a fact, it is the discovery of this hospitable self- sacrifice which inspires Hercules to work the deliverance of Alcestis. His hospitable heart Received me in his house, nor made excuse, Though pierced with such a grief; this he concealed Through generous thought and reverence to his friend. Who in Thessalia bears a warmer love To strangers? Who, through all the realms of Greece? It never shall be said this generous man Received in me a base and worthless wretch. Thus the origin, the crisis, and the consummation of the plot are all founded on the splendid hospitality of Ad- metus ^ Now what difference will this connection of Admetus with the worship of brightness— if we force ourselves to view it as the Greeks viewed it — make to our sympathies in the story? It gives just the salt which takes from Admetus's deed the flavour of personal selfishness. Every one must feel what a difference it would make if the sacrifice of Alcestis was undertaken for a cause and not for a man. But to the Greek mind the religion of hospitable splendour is precisely such a cause as is needed. The case then becomes that of a general who must see soldiers inter- posing between him and danger, or of the Scottish Chieftain, for whom the seven sons of Hector went as a matter of course to their deaths, winning eternal glory for themselves without disgracing him for whom they died. And yet Euripides is nearer to modern sentiment than this argument * Alcestis : prologue and 568, 603. The play is a con- trast of ideals, not of in- dividuals. DRAMATIC MOTIVES. "5 I suggests. As a fact, he alone of ancient writers catches Chap. hi. this modern feehng as to the supremacy of love and the family life, and he is anticipating it in this drama. Only it is an essential point in such treatment that Admetus should be exalted, and it adds a fresh beauty to the sacrifice of Alcestis if the husband for whom she gives herself is worthy. It is two causes, not two individuals, that Euri- pides is contrasting : the simple human emotions of love and bereavement are brought into conflict with a lofty ideal of splendour, and are made to triumph over it in the end. With this contrast of pathos and splendour for our clue The move- we may see the whole movement of the drama fall into '''^'^^ ^/^^'^ place. Euripides only gradually allows the emotion o^Zents the realism to insinuate itself into the midst of the ideal. At ''^^^Sion of the commencement of the play the only thought 'is ohl^l the king's deliverance. Alcestis has arrayed herself m^^'^ religion radiant attire, and, in the spirit of the cult for which '^^"^''' she is giving her life, treats as a triumph day the day of her doom, taking stately farewell of each altar in the palace : Nor sigh nor tear Came from her, neither did the approaching ill Change the fresh beauty of her vermeil cheek. She breaks down at the sight of the marriage chamber, and here first comes in the simplicity of human love. The humble Attendant is the next to display it, and she catches the doubt whether after all Admetus will gain by his ex- change. So stands it with Admetus. Had he died. His woes were over ; now he lives to bear A weight of pain no moment shall forget. In the death scene this doubt has seized Admetus himself, and he renounces for ever the brightness to save which Alcestis is dying, and which seems cold beside the attraction I 2 \. ii6 CHORAL TRAGEDY, V Chap. III. of life-long mourning over her memory. Still stronger is this feeling in the final episode ; and when the Chorus bid Admetus remember what he has gained, the word grates upon him : My friends, I deem the fortune of my wife Happier than mine, though otherwise it seems! Love has won its way to supremacy, and the dramatist may now restore the splendour again, as, by the deliverance which Hercules has worked out, Alcestis is in all her living and breathing beauty unveiled before her husband. Well may the feasts break out again, and the altars be decked more richly than ever before; and well may Ad- metus say — I rise to higher life ! But this is not the rise of the sinner out of his sin : it is the whole religion of brightness rising into the higher religion of love. To this same heading, the interest of splendour, is to be referred that most startling feature of ancient life — the elevation of self-abandonment and wild revelry into a sacred duty in connection with the worship of Bacchus, and which is portrayed in Euripides' strangely brilliant play. The Bacchanals. The god himself is a personage in this drama, and Bacchanal women are the Chorus, each bearing the thyrsus, or ivy-clad staff which is the symbol of their faith : at its touch age forgets its weariness and returns to fresh youth, serpents lose their venom and wolves their wildness, streams of pure water flow from the bare rock, and milk out of the earth, while from the ivy-wreath itself drops dulcet honey. The new rite makes its appearance as in triumphal procession through the fairest regions of the earth, and comes to Greece with the air of a Reformation movement. The odes are pitched in the elevated tone of religious ecstasy, celebrating the bliss of the man who has seen into the mysteries of heaven, and the sanctity of mind that links The Bac- chanals. \ DRAMATIC MOTIVES, 117 men with the gods. The plot of the play illustrates, in the Chap III unhappy fate of Pentheus, how those who oppose the worship of the vine are opposing a hidden omnipotence : if the votaries are imprisoned an earthquake overturns the prison, chains drop off spontaneous, and a fire breaks out that men strive to quench in vain ; or the Maenads themselves with supernatural might overturn trees and scatter the limbs of oxen with their bare hands. And the sacred passion, if not embraced as a mode of worship, none the less seizes the impious miscreant in the form of madness, making him rush with fierce joy to his own destruction. Intoxication ideal- ised mto a religion— that is the poetical presentation of the Bacchanal worship. Human sentiments and human bonds constitute a per- Human , petual interest for all branches of literature. The family tie ^'''ti'^'^'^^A and its rupture are the basis of several tragedies; perhaps ^"'^ ^'''^'^"^ the most notable is the Antigone, which brings the claims oi the family the family into conflict with the claims of the state. The ^'^' heroine has to choose between the decree of Creon and the obligations of sisterhood : challenged with the question whether she will not obey the laws she answers by con- trasting them with the higher and eternal laws of heaven— The unwritten laws of God, that know not change : They are not of to-day nor yesterday. But live for ever, nor can man assign When first they sprang to being. The same play brings out how, in connection with the wor- ship of ancestors, family attachment extends beyond death : Longer lasts the time To enjoy the favour of the eternal dead Than to please short-lived monarchs. The suppliant bond is a purely ancient sentiment. The the suppliant's prayer for protection might be rejected by the '""PP^'anf ruler to whom it is addressed, but once the prayer is accepted '^'"^' the tie between protector and protected is of peculiar ■\ \ / u8 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Y^libacy. Chap^III. strength, and indeed is placed under the immediate pro- tection of Zeus himself. Three plays are motived by this relationship of the suppliant to his protector— the Suppliants of Aeschylus and of Euripides, and the latter poet's Cht/dren frundship, of Hercules. Friendship is chiefly represented in the ideal attachment of Pylades and Orestes; this appears conven- tionally in several plays, and is by Euripides expanded into a motive, not indeed of a whole play, but of important episodes in two plays-the incident in the Orestes in which Pylades refuses to quit his friends in their misfortunes, and the still more beautiful scene in Iphige7iia among the Tauri where the two friends struggle which shall die for the other^' The sentiment of celibacy-purity elevated into a passion- is the motive of the Hippolytus. The story is repulsive, for It involves a (false) charge of incest. But the purity and loftiness with which Euripides has treated it are best seen when his play is compared with the ordinary legend as embodied, for example, in the tragedy of Seneca. Euripides from his very prologue rests the whole complication on miracle. It is by Aphrodite that Ph^dra is smitten with unholy love, which she resists to the death, when the betrayal of her secret brings about the situation that domestic purity is miraculously plunged into impurity and thrown into conflict with passionate celibacy. The reaction from such a situation is a tragic accumulation of woe • one dies by suicide, the other by a violent, inexorable' divinely-wrought cruelty, called down on him through the agency of the being he loves best. When the cloud of error IS dissipated there is left the pure memory to all time of the unhappy Phaedra and Hippolytus, together with the pre- sentation of humanity as on a higher level than the gods besides a plea for the simple satisfaction of love in the purity of family Hfe. ' ^''^'^^' 1069-1245. iph. Taur. 578-724. ^.--rf DRAMATIC MOTIVES. 119 Again, it is very important, if we seek to analyse the Chap. III. perspective of plays and understand the relative proportion of their parts, to remember that the Ideahsation of Life is 'laUonlf' a constant motive in ancient drama, side by side with the ^'/^' more distinctly dramatic interests of character and plot. The size of the ancient stage gave scope for the display of religious, military and civil pomp on the grandest scale. Within the limits of Aeschylus's trilogy we have seen the ceremonial rites of Clytaemnestra's thanksgiving for triumph, the pageant of the return from Troy, the sudden apparition of Aegisthus's bodyguard pouring out of their hiding-places, the ritual of the sepulchre that gives its name to the second play of the three, the majestic procedure of the Court of Areopagus sitting under divine presidency, the torchlight festival of the Eumenidea— all successively filling the stage and appealing to the sense of spectacle. On the other hand, it is equally a purpose with the masters of Tragedy to cast a poetic glow over the lesser things of life. In the Hippolytus we have a hunting chorus, there is a scene of sick-bed watching in Orestes transacted in lyrics, and in the Iphigenia among tJie r«?m a sudden attack of illness presented in blank verse. Even washing-day can be glorified. There is a rock from whose deep base Fountains distilled from ocean flow. And from the ridge we drop the vase To catch the wave below : A friend I have, who thither brought Her vests, of radiant purple wrought, To bathe them in the crystal dews, Then on the rock's warm face their hues Spread to the sun's fair rays'. Under this head may be cited the beauties of landscape, and which in later plays ^ entered partly into the scenery of the ^^^^''^^ * Hippolytus 62; Orestes 140; Iph. Taur. 281; Hippolytus 121. So bleaching {Helena 179), and wool work {Iph. Taur. 222, 814). =• E. g. Daughters of Troy : compare final ode and conclusion. 120 CHORAL TRAGEDY. ^ "^"^' ^^^^^' ^" ^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ celebrated in description. The Nature Odes have been reviewed in a previous section. Among the passing bits of nature painting none is more famous than the appeal of Prometheus to the elements when he is cast out by the gods. Brightness divine of heaven, swift -winged winds, Ye river-wells, and ocean's wavy face Restless with countless-rippling smiles of light : O Earth that hast borne all, and thee I call, Thou Sun, whose eye doth ever all command. The sacred haunts of deity would specially call out the im- agination of a poet, like the spot on which the weary Oedipus rests, full of laurel, olive, vine, and singing nightingales, or the voiceless grass-grown grove of the Furies— Where blends with rivulet of honey'd stream The cup of water clear. More elaborate is the description of the meadow sacred to Artemis : The unshorn mead, where never shepherd dared To feed his flock, and the scythe never came. But o'er its vernal sweets unshorn the bee Ranges at will, and hush'd in reverence glides Th' irriguous streamlet : garish art hath there No place. The terrible in nature is painted, as well as its fairness. As a wave Of ocean's billowing surge (Where Thrakian storm-winds rave. And floods of darkness from the depths emerge,) Rolls the black sand from out the lowest deep ' And shores re-echoing wail, as rough blasts o'er them sweep. Or again the Chorus in Iphigenia, detained in Taurica while their leader is delivered, delight to picture the journey home • earlier in the play their imagination has been fired by the voyage of the newly arrived strangers, whose bark has been now threading dangerous passages, now ploughing its way DRAMATIC MOTIVES, [21 i past bird-haunted cliffs, with whispering zephyrs swelling its Chap. III. sails or southern gales piping through its tackling, while beneath the ringed Nereids were weaving the light dance in the high-arched caves of the sea\ Another motive in ancient dramatic poetry will be easily Prose distinguishable when it is recollected that, at so early a point ^^^■^^• in literary development, poetry has in great part to do the work of prose. In all literatures poetry is at the outset the sole medium of expression ; with the advance of scientific thought a second medium is elaborated, but the transference of topics from poetry to prose is only gradual. Before the end of ancient Tragedy the prose literature of Greece was m full course; but in the earlier days of Aeschylus it is quite clear that, for example, the topic of geography had not geography, passed outside the range of poetry, and that it was not inconsistent with tragic interest to enlarge on geographical detail. It is true that to all poetry belongs the beauty of enumeration, by which a poet like Milton can impart a charm even to a list of proper names: and this might explain such a passage as the chain of beacons in Agamem- non. But the episode of lo in Prometheus is expanded out of all proportion to its dramatic bearing, clearly because of the interest felt in her wanderings as suggesting the migra- tions of the Ionic race. A similar argument applies to mythology, mythological interest in Tragedy. It is true that myth is the raw material of tragic plot. But in prologues like that of the Eumenides, or those of Euripides generally, mytho- logical discussion is expanded to an extent suggestive of scientific rather than dramatic interest. Again, the national politics. ^ character of tragic celebrations made politics a theme on which it was always possible to enlarge. The glorification of Athens is a visible motive in the Oedipus at Colonus and the Ion ; and in Medea the mere mechanical necessity of » Prometheus, 88; Oedipus at Colonus, i6, 157; Hippolytus, ^x- Antigone, 586; Iph. Taur. 11 23, 399. ^^' / 122 CHORAL TRAGEDY, Chap. III. finding some refuge for the murderess expands into the episode of Aegeus the Athenian, and the subsequent ode to Athens. Burning questions of the hour find their represent- ation in Tragedy, such as the plea for the Court of Areopagus in the trilogy, and the bitter attack on Sparta in Andromache. Even the general division of parties between Aristocracy and Democracy makes itself felt from time to time. In the Supplia7its of Euripides a scene is devoted to a set contest between the Herald from monarchical Thebes and the leader of a free state. The Herald pours official scorn on popular institutions : Shall they who lack the skill To form their speech have skill to form the state? Theseus in his reply puts the very essence of the democratic ideal:— personal hberty, freedom of speech, land national- isation. The weak, the rich, have here one equal right, And penury with justice on its side Triumphs o'er riches ; this is to be free. Is there a mind that teems with noble thought And useful to the state ? He speaks his thought. And is illustrious. When a people, free. Are sovereigns of their land, the state stands firm \ One more dramatic motive may be mentioned : that of social topics, especially woman. Shakespeare's 'merry war ' of the sexes has become a very bitter war in the poetry of Euripides ; at the same time I must confess to a feeling of amazement that so many distinguished commentators can n^Ztitn ^'"''"^^ ^^^ ^''''^'^'''" ^^^^ Euripides is a woman-hater. It hu. -r. '^ ^^"^ th^t as much bitterness on this topic can be collected from the pages of Euripides as from any other writer. In particular, every one is familiar with the declamation of » Medea 663-865 ; Andromache 445 ; Suppliants (of Euripides) 390- ^ftv'l-f T'" '^^^'^'^°° °^ '^^ agricultural as contrasted with the Social Topics, especially woman. DRAMATIC MOTIVES. 123 Hippolytus', in which he reproaches heaven for niacins . beneath the fair sun the specious evil, woman-a thing ^at ""— "" the very father who begat her gives large dowty to be rid of whUe the deluded husband receives her as a plague thai must .nfect his household, unless her reason is too^k to trame a plot, or unless she could associate only with dumb antmals so that neither could corrupt the other He Zl wit^hout the a.d of woman ; otherwise, happiest he whose Inactive throngh simplicity, and mild, To his abode is like a statue fixed. But it is obvious that in dramatic literature words must be ftr^r *' "^'' °'*^ P^--^"" -''° ^P-"^^ them a 'd o na ntt ''" °"'^ P^°^^^ *^' "^^ P-' - capable of pamting misogyny-m this case a marked and blatant m.sogyny that brings Hippolytus to a violent end ! IS perhaps more remarkable that in the ^.^.«^ sentiments as strong are put into the mouth of a woman. But here amTn.'L'"'' ''" "'^^^ *^'' ^^ ^ ^^ct, pessimism exists among women as among men, and an artist may be drawn but irr"' "°u "' '" ""^ ^y"P^*y "'* the sentiment, but just because he takes woman seriously, and chafes a[ narrowmg conventions and low social standards. To iudee fairly a dramatist's conception of woman it is necessari L only to note the expressions of opinion he attributes to his .magmary speakers, but still more to see what sort of women he has himself created. Tried by this test will Euripides L'linr/Tr'V" *' '''^"''°" '° ^'^''^•^ ^^ ''as raised the standard of female excellence ? It is a significant fact that ot the four personages who in this writer's plays give their hves for others three are women. The sex may easHy forgive Eur.p,des the hard sayings about them of which he has acted as reporter, m consideration of the additions he has himself • Hippolytus, 616. . ^^j^^_ ^^ V 124 CHORAL TRAGEDY, / Chap^III. made to the world's worthy women— in consideration of his Iphigenia, his Macaria, his Polyxena, above all his perfect wife and mother, Alcestis. 4. The Dramatic Element in Ancient Tragedy. The C/iortis and the Theatre the deter- mining forces in Ancient Tragedy. Function of the Chorus to embody the unity. The lyric element in Ancient Tragedy, and the general matter which inspired it, have been reviewed : in the present section we confine ourselves to Tragedy considered as drama. The forces which determined Ancient Tragedy as a branch of the universal drama were chiefly two :— the Chorus, and the Theatre. It will be convenient to briefly indicate what effect each of these had in conditioning Tragedy as a literary species, and then to survey the dramatic features of the literature so conditioned. The Chorus had a direct and most important influence : it was the great unity bond in Ancient Tragedy. Not only was the Chorus the common point between the lyric and dramatic elements, it was further the agency for binding to- gether the details of a play into that singleness of impression which constitutes ' unity ' in a work of art. This Chorus, on the one hand, stands regularly for the ideal spectator ; on the other hand it has its sympathies in regard to the course of incidents definitely assigned to it by its characterisation, whether as confidants of the hero or otherwise : this double relation to the audience and the personages represented makes the Chorus an arrangement for embodying in the drama itself the general impression of the whole, or ' unity.' Further, as the Chorus never quits the scene \ it is provided, negatively, that no part of the action shall be outside the unity ; and as everything is addressed to the Chorus, and the Chorus is expected to comment on it, it is provided, positively, that the sense of unity shall be brought to bear ^ Apparent exceptions will be found (below, page 185) to confirm the principle. THE UNITIES, 125 upon every detail. The Chorus is complete machinery for Chap. III. at once representing and securing the unity of an ancient play ; and in this respect there is nothing to compare with the Chorus in any other branch of drama. The unity so secured to Greek Tragedy is of a kind much The Three stricter than that which exists in other species of drama : it ^'"'^''^^• has been expressed in the famous critical principles known as the ' Three Unities.' The first is the Unity of Action. Unity of As a term of the universal drama this means no more than '^'^''^''■ the subordination of details to the impression of the whole : when used of Greek Tragedy the Unity of Action amounts to a oneness of story, as distinguished from the harmony of different stories which constitutes the unity of most Shake- spearean dramas. In The Merchant of Venice we have (besides underplots) two tales already familiar in earlier literature, the Story of the Cruel Jew and the Story of the Caskets, borrowed from different sources and combined into a single plot. Greek Drama was confined to a single story : to have introduced more than one hero would, to a Greek mind, have involved more than one Chorus. The oneness is carried to the extent of presenting the matter entirely from the side on which are the sympathies of the Chorus. If Shakespeare has to develop the story of Shylock he will, besides taking us into the confidence of Shylock himself, give us some scenes which we view from the side of Shylock's enemy Antonio ; in others we hear how Tubal and the Jews, or how Gratiano and the gossips of Venice, look at the matter. The ancient tragedian introduced no scenes but such as could happen in the presence of the Chorus. Thus for the tragedies of the Greek stage Unity of Action implies a single story presented from a single point of view. The other two unities relate to changes of scene. In an Unh Elizabethan drama there may be as many as fifty changes ^^^^ of scene, the stage being varied backwards and forwards to tS. N i \ / 126 CHORAL TRAGEDY, \ Chap. III. represent some eight or ten different places ; between ""^ successive scenes long intervals of time may be supposed to elapse, that between the fourth and fifth acts of The Winter's Tale, for example, being sufficient to admit of Perdita's growing up from a baby into a marriageable girl. In the Greek drama, on the contrary, the Unity of Place and the Unity of Time imply the arrangement of the story so that only those incidents are selected for acting which may be represented as happening in one single place at one single time : any other necessary incidents must be narrated, or made known by some means other than that of acting ^ For these two principles the Chorus is mainly responsible. The fact that it remained in the orchestra during the interval between one episode and another made a whole tragedy one con- tinuous scene, without any breaks such as could be utilised for changes of place and time. The combined effect of the two principles may be expressed by a single term — Scenic Unity. The Three Unities, then, are critical features of Ancient Tragedy arising out of its connection with the Chorus. In conformity with the first of these principles the matter ^ There are various devices for dealing with incidents that are outside these unities, (i) They can be narrated in Choral Odes, or (^2) in the * Messenger's Speech.' (3) Interiors can be suddenly disclosed by the Roller-Stage (an example in Agamemnon^ above, page 40). In many cases it is doubtful whether this was used, or whether the opening of the Central Gates was not sufficient. (4) There are some special and highly dramatic devices : Cassandra's clairvoyance (in the trilogy) paints in vision the scene actually going on inside the palace ; similarly in Her- cules (above, page 91), the apparition of Madness paints beforehand the effect she is going to produce behind the scenes. (5) Compressions of time in the course of a play come to almost the same as intervals between scenes. The return of the army in Agamemnon could not in actual life have happened till many days after the reception of the telegraphic message by means of the beacons. In the Suppliants of Euripides an expedition, a battle and a triumphant return take place in the interval covered by a single choral ode C598-633). INFLUENCE OF THE THEATRE. 127 included in a tragedy was confined to a single story, and by Chap. III. the operation of the other two this story was, in represen- tation, further cut down to its crisis. The influence on Ancient Tragedy of the Theatre and The theatrical representation * rests mainly on the fact that ^'^'^^^''^ «-f a deter- * On this subject the student must distinguish between what is essen- tial for following the drama and its development, and that which has only an antiquarian interest. The following note sums up the salient points : see also note at end of preface, I. The Theatre was open, and large enough to contain the whole population of a city. The Stage and Scene were ultimately of stone : but there is some doubt how early this was substituted for the primitive wooden structure. This permanent Scene represented an elaborate fa9ade of a palace, in which there was a Central and Inferior doors ; the whole could however be concealed behind Moveable Scenery. The Stage was a narrow platform running the whole length of the Scene • of the two entrances at each end the one on the spectators' left indi- cated an entrance from a distance, the other an entrance from the immediate neighbourhood. Considerably lower than the Stage was the huge Orchestra, with the Altar of Dionysus {Thymele) in the centre, and two Entrances {Parodi), as with the Stage. A flight of steps connected the Stage and Orchestra, and was continued out of sight m the ' Steps of Charon,' used for ghosts and apparitions from the underworid. There was very little machinery. Turn-scenes {Periactt) were prism-shaped side-scenes fixed at both ends of the Stage, and turning on a pivot to produce the (rare) changes of scene. The Roller- Stage {Eccydema) was a contrivance by which an interior scene could be rolled out from the Central Door to the front of the stage. To these add the Machina, which has given rise to the proverbial Deus ex machina,-^ crane-like contrivance for swinging out a deity, who would thus appear in mid air. 2. The number of Actors was confined to two, later to three [called Frotagottist, Deuteragonist , Tritagonist], and in a few plays there is an appearance of a fourth. But this merely means that there could not be more than that number of speaking personages on the stage together at any one time. Each of the Actors would take several different parts in different scenes; and the number of mute personages on the stage was unlimited. 3. The Costume maintained a Bacchic brilliance and dignity of pro- portions, especially the Buskin {Cothurnus), a thick shoe for increasing the height of the actor, and which has become a synonym for Tragedy. The costume included Masks for the Actors and Chorus ; the latter of 128 cnoNAf. 7'A'A(; /•:/)]'. PLOT IN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. 129 Chap. III. mining force in Ancient Tragedy. Spcctacida) display^ limitation of subject- ninttcr^ irony, coni'm- tionaiity Tragedy never ceased to be a solemn religious and national festival, celebrated in a building which was regarded as tlie temple of Dionysus, whose altar was the most prominent object in the orchestra, and in presence of what may fairly be described as the whole * public ' of Athens and Attica. Such surrounding.s, in the first place, gave encouragement to spectacular display. I have before noticed the grand I)ageants with which Aeschylus fills his stage ; Euripides in some of hisplays— notably in the Dau}:;ht€r5 of Trnv~\\:\.?, left great scope for mi.se-en-scene, which in his time no doubt advanced with the general advance in the art of painting. One effect flowing from the religious associations of I'ragedy was limitation of subject-matter, which was confined to the •sacred myths, progress towards real life being slow. Surprise as a dranialic effect was eliminated where all knew the end of the story. On the other hand, great scope was given for //w//— ignorance of the sequel on the part of the personages represented cla.shing with knowledge of it on the part of the audience. A third point to note is that the use of masks would be a great limit on individuality, tending to make the personages of an ancient play fall into classes and types. Hut the general influence of re[)resentation \\\ Ancient 'I'ragedy may be best summed U[) in the word *conven- course never wore the buskin. Tlicse Masks were not iiulivi.lu.il, but indicated types, such as a kin^,', a priest, a slave, a yountj man, an old woman, &c. 4- The Dehvcrywas conventional, not realistic. Choral Odes and Stage Lyrics were sung, i'.lank Verse was declain»eigneil the duty of providing the magistrates with the expenses of so manv Choruses. The magistrates then assigned these to the poets who made application. ^VIth the Chorus went other expenses of a dramatic exhibition. There was much competition in display between these Choregi. 'onal, y. r|,is and the anti.ho.i.al ,cn„, 'rcalisn,; n.v ,l,c (•„,„ „, two po OS of d,anKUic cn-cct, a>l aain, having rofcrcn,.. '" bo h and vary„,g between the two: the latter ain.s dire, tly at the m„ at.on of hfe, eonventionality is forever falling into recogn,sed positions of beauty. Not only did the ii 1 drama lean to the eonven.ional, bnt the,.onc.,„i„n of ben, "y underlyng ,t was different fron> the spirited n.ove.nen ' , nearer to the forenrost art of anti,,„ity_statuary. The aa,ng of an ancent scene is best regarded as a pass ge fron IS reduced to a mnnMUM,, nn.l positions of rest expanded to a .naxnnum :.^.a view which accounts for the grea len.-tl o speeches ,n t;reek dran.a. The episodes of Ancient T : d, wee feats .,f expr, .,s,v,. .Ian- ing ; and the total p,r(orn,.,n, ,- .a.d^dow„ the lines of conventional acting for t'he univeILd terlfc of \ "T\'t "T ""^ ^"""''" ^'""'■■'"■'^ '^'^--- /V,v ,. «.th the Chorus, and by its theatrical surroundings Our "''''■ nia,n concern will be with that reduction of hlan e" pcncnce to artistic forn, which is called plot: as a n ^ aiM -cs y Inns u.to order and hannony, so a dran.atist is an a li events or a combn,at,on of human relationships. There arc " two vanefes of plot. In the first the interest lie in he ^ ^ b'*«-" nianjiy hy the Drofrress nnrl movement of the story itself T l.u , y '^^^^^ '^"^» these Pint, nf V '^'^ consider separately tnese riots of Passion and Plots of Action '. ' This fundamental distinction hi<; in r«^,] j »pres.<, .y .Be ».,....., .erL''"k; J^^a twT^ ^L' I30 CHORAL TRAGEDY. PLOT LN ANCLE NT TRAGEDY. 131 Chap. III. Plots of Passion : Jour/ornrs of dramatic movement. I. An Open- ing Situa- tion developed to a ( 'Umax. In Plots of Passion wc may distinguish four forms of dramatic movement, wliich however differ very little from one another : all turn mainly upon a situation or situations, on which the dramatist concentrates attention, and in which he elaborates and accumulates a disi)Iay of passion. A plot of the first form consists in an Opening Situation developed to a Climax. In the Agamemnon Aeschylus elaborates and emphasises the opening situation, working upon our awe by its strange mingling of triumph and foreboding. The Watchman has scarcely shouted the signal of the beacon when ' the weight of an ox upon his tongue ' checks his rejoicings. Then the Chorus-Entry— so elaborate in itself, and performed against a background of mysterious ritual on the stage— is one long swaying between anxiety and faith in Zeus the Accomplisher. And this doublencss of impres- sion is continued and carried forward by each subsc^iuent phase of the movement. When the Queen explains her ritual as a sacrifice of triumph she qualifies her confidence with an if. The Chorus, in their ode of vi(tory, by so naturally turning their thoughts to the price of victory -the bloodshed which comes back in a curse- fall again into terms were naturally used in Greek literature, wliere the ut sceinjj that a main feature of Romantic Drama IS the ' mixture of tones,' or continual inlerchnnge lK.tuecn ^-ravc and gay m the same drama and even in the same scene, the continued use of •Tragedy' and 'Comedy' is most awkward, ar..l i> a relic of the discarded critical temperament which applied to all lilcr.iture the sinMe standpoint of the Ancient Classiad literatures. I'.vcry cne feels The absurdity of calling Measure for Measure or The Menhant of I 'enice a comedy, and it is difllcult to describe as tragedies plavs so full of comic matter as L,ear and Othello. I have elsewhere (Shak.spcare as a Dra- matte Artist, page 323) suggested the terms ' I'a.sion-Drama' and •Action-Drama.' In Action-dramas like The Merchant of I'enice the unity of the whole play lies in entanglement and solution. " In I'a.sion- dramas (tragedies) there is no restoration of happiness after the distraction of the plot, but the emotion of agitation is relieved only bv the emotion of pathos or despair. ' doubt. The Herald who enters with the crown of triun,,-!, Cn^r ,„ on h,s head stumbles, in giving his news, upon the nnhn, ,y -- omen of Menelaus; and the ode whi, 1, mlas l-nris's .ri '„e as a text for infatuation introduces a sr.ne in whi, I, inn,,,,,. .on is fastened upon Aganicn.non. S„ the disln,. Hon of the openmg situation has been ron.innnlly .Icvclopin, nn.il the chmax, when from the cloud „f Cassnndra-s n.isiakcn prophecy breaks the clear light which brings a terrible harmony to resolve the discord, and displays Agana-n.non's tnumph-sacrifice selected as the sweet n,on,cnt for ven- geance on his forgotten crime '. The second form differs very litllc from the first. In it „ the s.tuafon on which attention is lo be fastened has to be ^''='''^- produced in the play itself: such a plot n,ay be described S/""' as the Development of a final Silunlinn. Fn the Or,/i/„n ''''"""■'"■ as A,;,(r the opening si.ua.ion is not one ih.u rcs.s upon an accomp hshed fact, but is a situation of expectancy pointing to the futt.rc: the safety of the state .kpcn.ls upon ,li: covermg the n.nrderer of l,ains. \\ i„, ,,,,, ,,',„, „,^. mvestigatton advances, -ot without pcph.ity, ..„„,„,„, alternate fc^r and hop. for the hco. Three fourths of ,h. poem .s exhausted before the discovery is a,-, o.nplished. Woe! woe! woe! woe! nil cmnclh clear nl l:,.t r O liflht, mny this my ),,„ j,,,,,,,,. ,„. ,„_ „, \\iio now am seen ..wi,,;- n„. |,iri|, t-, tl,„.e To whom I onnlit .m.1, n,ul will, „l„„„ J ouH.t not In we.llock livi„tj, whom I o.,i,.hl not slavin.,? * Another clear cxninple will |,c flw /*,n,„ ,r arrestee, hy the openh.^ ..„.. !,:.!!; /-;/:"- T;:^:'^ZZ Prome hens to the mountain a. a rebel a-ainsl 7cus .1 > (Ocean and the Chorus) Thr " ,t r '"V'^'^'^'^»" "" 'beholders t, and left traces on \J.i these disturbing ^--^^^J "^e Athenian r. The iirst is the m« of Rhe^nc. ^^^ _^ ,..,.. ^i:Z : Tentf P^Ungs. The princi^e of -.^ds^rth^^^^^^^^^^^^ It e'U S.en was frequently f^^^^^:^ZZ Sthe n^nXof legal procedure, and the taste formed Plots of Action. rr^. P nr CR\ Example: 5. Complication and Resolution [CxR, or CAJ. ^^'^' , , T>i f ^r Plot of Fortune-Turns [CRC]. 6. The Pendulum Plot, or Plot oi r Examples: Ij>higenia among the Taurt, Mer The plot of Philoctetes might be expressed as C R- 142 CHORAL TRAGEDY. Rheses, Parallel Verse, Chai\JIL in business hours for the embeHishments of forensic eloquence extended to the whole of the national literature, and could at any time become a substitute for dramatic effect. The influence of Rhetoric on Tragedy appears in three points. First, Rheses or set rhetorical speeches abound: they differ from other speeches in a drama by their length and their distance from the characteristics of dialogue. It is perhaps worth while to distinguish Rheses of Thought, which are expositions of a distinct theme sug- gested by the scene,— as where Prometheus elaborates a whole philosophy of evolution in his account of his good works for man,— and Rheses of Situation, such as the famous speech of Ajax on the verge of suicide, or the lament of Hecuba over the mangled corpse of the infant Astyanax\ To the same source may be referred the Parallel, or * Stichomuthic,' Dialogue, already treated as a variety of tragic style : its equality of remark and answer rests upon the balancing of sentences which is a main device of Rhetoric. Both these traces of rhetorical in- fluence are combined in the third— the Forensic Contest. In the plays of Euripides, and less markedly in those of Sophocles, there is regulariy a scene answering to this title, in which representatives of the hero and of his opponents are brought together, and discuss their respective cases with a degree of formality which is felt to be forensic rather than dramatic. Such a scene regularly contains one elaborate rhesis on each side of the dispute, like advocates' speeches; and the resemblance extends so far that often (as Paley has pointed out) the two orations are identical in length, just as in the law-courts of Athens speeches were equalised by the water-clock. The part of the Chorus in the scene is that of moderators: and the elaborate speeches are usually suc- ceeded by a spell of parallel dialogue suggestive of cross- examination. » PrometJieus, ^4^', Ajax, 815 ; Daughters of Troy, 11 56. the Foren- sic Contest A,. RHETORICAL ELEMENT IN GREEK TRAGEDY. 143 An illustration of such a Forensic Contest may be taken CuAi^p jj from the Alcestis. Admetus, heading the procession to the — grave, is encountered by his father and mother coming to bring their funeral offerings. According to the. peculiar conception of the play discussed in an earlier section, these parents must be regarded as the opponents of the hero, since they embody the selfish old age which has shrunk from its duty and allowed the youthful queen to die for Admetus. Accordingly when the attendants advance to receive the offerings Admetus waves them back, and stands coldly confronting his father. At last he speaks. His father is an uninvited guest at this funeral feast, and un. welcome. Then was the time to show kindness when a life was demanded : yet the father could stand aloof and see a younger life perish. At such an age, just trembling on the verge Of life, thou couldst not, nay thou daredst not die For thine own son ; but thou couldst suffer her, Though sprung from foreign blood : with justice then Her only as my father must I deem, Her only as my mother. Yet Pheres (he continues) had already enjoyed his share of all that makes life happy : youth spent amid royal luxury, a prosperous reign, a son to inherit his state and who ever did him honour. But now let him beget new sons to cherish his age ! — The Chorus interpose : Forbear ! enough the present weight of woe : My son, exasperate not a father's mind. To the long rhesis of Admetus Pheres replies in a speech of similar length. Is he a slave, to be so rated by his own son ? And for what ? He has given his son birth and nurture, he has already handed over to him a kingdom, and will be- queath him yet more wide lands: all that fathers owe to sons he gives. What new obligation is this that fathers should die for their children ? 144 CHORAL TRAGEDY. t III. Is it a joy to thee — To view the light of heav'n, and dost thou think Thy father joys not in it ? Long I deem Our time in death's dark regions : short the space Of life, yet sweet ! So thought thy coward heart And struggled not to die : and thou dost live By killing her\ My mean and abject spirit Dost thou rebuke, O timidest of all, Vanquish'd ev'n by a woman, her who gave For thee, her young fair husband, her young life? A fine device, that thou mightst never die, Couldst thou persuade — who at the time might be Thy wife — to die for thee ! After the Chorus have again essayed to check the unseemly altercation, it settles down into an exchange of stichomuthic defiance. / / Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm, Pher. Adm. Pher, Adm, Pher, Adm. Pher. Adm, Pher. Adm, Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Had I died for thee greater were the wrong. Is death alike then to the young and old? Man's due is one life, not to borrow more. Thine drag thou on, and out-tire heaven's age! Barest thou to curse thy parents, nothing wrong'd? Parents — in dotage lusting still to live! And thou, what else but life— with this corpse— buyest ? This corpse — the symbol of thy infamy ! For us she died not: that thou canst not say. Ah ! mayst thou some time come to need my aid ! Wed many wives that more may die for thee. On thee rests this reproach— thou daredst not die. Sweet is this light of heav'n ! sweet is this light ! Base is thy thought, unworthy of a man ! The triumph is not thine to entomb mine age. Die when thou wilt, inglorious thou wilt die. Thy ill report will not affect me dead. Alas, that age should out-live sense of shame! But lack of age's wisdom slew her youth. Begone, and suffer me to entomb my dead. I go: no fitter burier than thyself. Her murderer ! Look for reckoning from her friends : Acastus is no man, if his hand fails Dearly to avenge on thee his sister's blood. Why, get you gone, thou and thy worthy wife : Grow old in consort — that is now your lot \ EPIC ELEMENT IN GREEK TRAGEDY. V 145 The childless parents of a living son : For never more under one common roof Come you and I together : had it needed, By herald I your hearth would have renounced. The parents withdraw, and the forensic contest is con- cluded ^ The second of the disturbing forces in Ancient Tragedy IS Epic Poetry. The part played by this in the early de- velopment of the drama has been traced in the opening chapter : it left its mark on the fully developed Tragedy in the Messenger's Speech. This is a device by which one of the incidents in the story, occurring outside the unity of place, and thus incapable of being acted, is instead presented m description, and treated with a vividness and fulness of narration that is an equivalent for realisation on the stage Such speeches (like the rheses) have the distinction of length, often exceeding one hundred lines ; they gi^^ the impression that for a time dramatic effect is suspended, and as a substitute, the recognised features of Epic Poetry supply a new interest. These Messengers' Speeches are interesting to read by themselves, as pictures of ancient life \ Battles, 1^ '^^^ ""f L elaborate forensic contest is that in the Phcenician Women (446-637) between the hostile brothers. It has the peculiarity that their mother acts as moderator instead of the Chorus (so that we get three rheses instead of two)'; the whole climaxes in parallel verse of accelerated rhythm. J. The following is a list :-A Battle under the walls of Thebes (SuP- plants oi Euripides, 650). A Battle with a miraculous incident ^Heraduicc, 799). A Night Surprise {Rhesus, 756). A Siege Battle with challenge and single combat {Phcnician Women iooo-iiqo 1217-1263, 1356-1424, 1427-1479)- Naval Battle of Salamis (Per- smns 251 : with interruptions to 516). An Escape by sea and fight on shipboard {Helena, 1526). The same, with a fight on shore {iph. Taur. 1327). Suicides: Oedipus the Kin^, 12=57. Antigone, 1192 ; Alaidens of Trachis, 899. Mystic Death {Oedipus at Colo7tus, 1586). Sacrifice of Polyxena {Hecuba, ^18) of Iphigenia {Iph. Aul, 1540). Fire-poison: Medea, 1,36 • Maidens of Trachis, 749. Attempted poisoning at a banquet {Ion, Chap. II II. Epic Poetry. The Messenge7 Speech. / I 146 CHORAL TRAGEDY, :hap^III. sieges, surprises, escapes, ambushes, suicides, death in a chariot race, assassination at a sacrifice, death by poison and fire, miraculous rescues, public meetings, orgies of Bac- chanal women— the whole range of sensational incident finds representation in these fragmentary epics. Represen- tation on the ancient stage was limited both by the infancy of mechanic art, and by the conventional spirit of a religious festival : the power of transferring the more elaborate scenes to narrative presentation was a valuable addition to the sources of tragic effect. 1122). Hippolytus and the Sea-Monster {Hip. 1173). Hercules slaying his children {Hercules Mad, ^22, or page 279 in Browning's Aristophanes' Apology). Death in a chariot race {Electra of Sophocles, 68o\ An Ambush and murder at the shrine of Delphi {Andromache, 1085). A Murder at a Sacrifice {Electra of Euripides 774). Miraculous rescue of Helen {Orestes, 1395: solitary example of a Messenger's Speech in l>Tics, as suited to a Phrygian narrator ^. A capture by herdsmen {Iph. Taur. 260). A Public Meeting {Orestes, 866). Last Day of Alcestis's life {Alcestis, 152). The Mi^nades on the Mountains {Bacchanals, 677) ; their assassination of Pentheus (I043).-It must be understood, of course, that the epic character of a Messenger's Speech does not exclude dramatic effects • epic and dramatic form have much in common. For illustration see below, page 169. IV. Ancient Tragedy in Transition. 1. The Story of Orestes in the hands of Sophocles and Euripides. 2. Nature and Range of Transition Influences. 3. Instability of the Chorus. 4. Other Lines of Developnmtt. L 2 ^HAF C V IV. and Euripides. and reviewed a^ n cr.«^- r / "^"^^^^^^^ by an example ^ present chapte iVroS" to 1 "t""^ '"'"^- ^" '^^ ^- " changes-an'd they Z™ hf 5' '^°'""'--'»^"' of ^-.-♦.• which carried on 'CZ^lt^ro^^TrT''''- direction of modern drama ^'"^''^^ '" "'^ .^i;e^^ uthVc=SticT:fTZv tlrt ^°^^^^^ state to nrpmr^ ^h^ i ^rageay in its transition plays' i^ w^SrtoTe'f ma^s ffT T"" °^ '^^ and Euripides, are handh" 'thTC o o'^TS^X l' T'" version of which was the trilogy consTderedIn t ' 1 chapter. One change is obvioul at "he outse h. 7 from trilogy to single nkv. • fh» ^/f outset-the change The the Dkv of fh. ^^ ■ ^'^^'^^'^ °f Sophocles, and ^'-ktra tne play of the same name by Euripides cov^r th. ^ "^ Sopho- of the middle play in Aeschylus's verS^n tk .^"""^ rT' the poems also suggest how ^e ^Tn^^^^iells'^^Ld^"" frm Orestes to Electra. Orestes was the nalral cemre ^S^^^-" PetSs:o£Sa;--:.t£^^^^ the natural representative of the situaL 'frl wSh L ^i , *- . I50 Zh <^hap. IV ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Four stages of the action common to all ver- sions. I First Stage : Return of Irestes. The oracular command. to^be wrought the deliverance that is the subject of the In all three versions the action falls naturally into the same four stages, which are thus convenient for purposes of Zr^T , ^n ^'^ ™' °^ °-='- g-' ^he key- note to the play : then there is the elaboration of the situa- •on out of which Electra is to be delivered ; then fo lows the recognU.on between brother and sister ; finally the conspiracy against Clyt^mnestra and AegisthuL The prologue to the Electra of Sophocles introduces Orestes ,n company with the aged Attendant who, accord ng to th,s version, received the infant son of Agamemnon from the hands of Electra, and has watched over h^m " exile. Orestes is heard explaining to this old man hi he has undertaken the expedition by command of Apollo In this point the versions of Aeschylus and Sophocles agree but there is significant difference between the form ttken by the oracular command in each. Aeschylus detail the terrible penalties which made the sanction of Sd v Le mandate. Sophocles says nothing of these, but make I oracle a specific duty : ^^ '"^ TTiat I myself unarmed with shield or host Should subtly work the righteous deed of blood. v"rsTon? T A ' ?f ''""'"^^ "' ^P'"' ''^'--en the two versions. In Aeschylus the dramatic effect is overpowered by he religious sentiment, devout brooding over mlHn relation to fate; Sophocles, equally religious in hi writin " js yet supremely a dramatist. Aeschylus emphasise the terrible consequences of disobedience In order'ou e hi as a balance to the horror of matricide incurred by obevin" and so presents the religious situation of a mortarpS between two irresistible fates. Sophocles uses L otcle Orestes an mtngue as a task. The prologue goes \_ THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES, 151 on to map out in detail Orestes' scheme. The Attendant Chap. IV. is to seek admission to the palace as a messenger from a friend of Clytaemnestra's, employed by her to watch Orestes ; he is to bring news that the exile is dead. The suspicions of the foe will thus be quieted when, later, Orestes shall in person appear, affecting to be the bearer of his own ashes. A wail heard from within the palace hastens the conspira- Second tors to their respective tasks; and the play passes into its ^J?^f' . j^ . ... ^ , , Elaboration second stage, m which some four hundred lines are devoted of the to elaborating the situation out of which Electra is to be 'l^^^^^^*" delivered. This portion of the drama I have anticipated in a former chapter, when discussing the use of stage lyrics for expressing and emphasising emotions like those of Electra in her distress ; I have described the monody in which she pours forth her daily testimony against her father's murder, and how in lengthy concerto with maidens from Argos she refuses to be comforted. By an effect common by rhetoric, in later Tragedy, when the influence of rhetoric was strong, the story already conveyed in lyrics is told over again in a long rhesis, as Electra, struck at last with compunction for the petulant impatience with which she has met the at- tempts of the Chorus to console her, calms herself, and in blank verse sums up the weight of woes she has to bear. Hated by her mother, housemate with her father's mur- derers, she must see Aegisthus sitting on her father's throne and pouring libations on the hearth he violated; her mother living in no fear of doom, but making a feast of the day her husband perished; Electra alone keeps his birthday in solitary festival, chidden for weeping, and threatened when- ever news comes of Orestes. And the situation thus lyrically and rhetorically expressed and by is further brought out by the dramatic effect of contrast as f^^/^^//' Chrysothemis passes along the stage. She is a younger sister of Electra, good but weak, cherishing her father's - 4 f 152 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. C / sh tht con. ii I Chap^IV. memory in secret, but outwardly yielding to superior force. ^ We may suppose the contrast extending to external ap- pearances : Chrysothemis may be fancied with golden locks and attire fitting her condition as a princess, and with the beauty of youth, whereas for Electra * the larger half of life is gone,' and her raiment is tattered as part of her testimony to the memory of the murdered Agamemnon. The dialogue between the sisters is of temporising and resisting, the Chorus (as ever) endeavouring to bring each disputant to learn from the other. The conversation is flavoured moreover with an irritable bitterness, product of many similar altercations in the past, when the close intercourse of family life has brought the weaker and comfortable life into continual contact with the stronger and heroic. As Chrysothemis is withdrawing, the errand comes out on which she is bent : she has been sent by her mother with hbations to the tomb of Agamemnon, as propitiation against a dream by which the queen has been disturbed. The dream is another point of comparison with the version of Aeschylus, and again the diflerences of detail are significant In Aeschylus the vision prophesied destruction— the snake drawing blood from the breast which nourished it. But the present story of Electra is one of restoration to happiness and the dream points in that direction :— the presence of Agamemnon appeared again on his hearth and planted there his old sceptre, And from it sprang a sucker fresh and strong, And all Mycenae rested in its shade. What Chrysothemis tells so simply, Electra snatches at as a message from beyond the grave. Gods of my fathers ! be ye with me now ! She adjures her sister to turn her errand to a different pur- pose. Never let such unholy offerings reach their destina- tion : — Dream, and transi ion to IfolloT.inng ojsfage. c iV ^ I' 153 Chap. IV. THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES. No! cast them to the rivers, hide them deep In dust, where never aught of them shall come To where my father sleeps; but when she dies Let them be stored below as gifts for her. Instead, let Chrysothemis lay on the tomb offerings from herself, and Electra too will give from her withered locks and fringeless girdle : and let the prayer be for Orestes and vengeance. Chrysothemis catches something of her sister's spirit, and with this new purpose departs for the tomb. The Chorus mark a turning-point in the story, and in a choral ode celebrate the change that has come over the spirit of the play with this gleam of hope. If our minds do not deceive us (they sing) Vengeance is coming, and her shadow is cast before her: like the springing up of a favourable gale, a new courage courses through our veins at these propitious dreams, an assurance that Agamemnon will not forget for ever, nor has the two-edged axe forgotten beneath the rust of all these years. She too will be here, with tramp of many a foot and clash of many a sword, Erinnys, with her iron march, already hiding in dread ambush. If ever vision was true, this dream will not come harmless to the murderess and her mate. This birth of hope makes the transition to the third stage Third of the play. The recognition between Orestes and Electra ^n^';^ is the piece de resistance in the version of Sophocles. By ment of Aeschylus it is thrown away ; so far as any effect is drawn %,^,^'''^' from it, it is a religious effect, the meeting being made to appear an immediate answer to prayer. Sophocles con- centrates the resources of dramatic workmanship on the recognition, drawing it out to its utmost extent, and illus- trating with a splendid example that moulding of successive incidents so as to combine in one common effect which so distinguishes his treatment of plot. As a first and distant ^^^?,X preparation for the arrival of Orestes, Sophocles contrives to '« the bring Clytaemnestra and Electra together. In the deadly {^X/' r^^ ^^ X ii 154 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, % THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES, 155 A CO a? C HAP. IV. feud between the two, the last hope of the helpless Electra is in Orestes, and Orestes is the only fear of the powerful queen : these emotions of hope and fear, which give sig- nificance to the coming recognition scene, are inflamed to the utmost by the contest between mother and daughter. The Queen is coming to dispel, in prayer to the Sun-god, the fear of her dream, when the unexpected sight of Electra, whose presence is a constant reminder of her sin, checks her purpose ; the shock finds vent in reviling, and the scene settles down into the regular forensic contest. The dramatist does advocate's duty in making out a case for Clytsemnestra. Her defence is, of course, based upon the sacrifice of Iphi- genia : thus Justice exacted the blood of Agamemnon and her hand was only the instrument. If the gods demanded human sacrifices were there not other maidens among the Greeks— had not Menelaus a daughter, he for whom the war was waged ? or had Hades a special lust for Clyt^m- nestra's children? Electra, with bitter formality, solicits permission to reply ; and then, with the steady force of a forensic pleader, marshals her arguments. She takes note of the admitted fact that her mother did the monstrous deed, and exposes her omission of the real motive and her base connexion with a paramour ; she points out the well- known circumstance that it was Agamemnon who had offended Artemis, and from his family alone could repara- tion come. With all an advocate's enjoyment, Electra turns her mother's plea of blood for blood against herself, and concludes with a peroration of untempered defiance. The altercation continues, and the Queen, forgetting the per- mission she had given, upbraids her daughter with inter- rupting her prayers. At that Electra stands aside, but Clytsemnestra still feels that her prayer will not be in friendly presence; she darkly hints her meaning, which Phoebus, as a god, will understand. Thus the prayer against the dream terror has, after all, not been offered. At this point, the Attendant of Orestes enter, fo Ko u- 1 part in the plot. When he announces the Srof.^^^^^^ ""- the emotions of the recognition are instantly chaledTnfn "- -- ^e.r o iees: C.yt.mnestra's dread bec'o:;' "f^u ."S^ ii'lectras hope smks into blank desoair Tn o« 1 u li by my sorrows I must save my life n^new sweet sleep, but stm the "^^L"''"' ^ on my life, as one condemned to death But one single moment has freed her from all her fear • We shall live on, and pass our days in peace. Clytsemnestra takes the Attendant into the palace w,>h . partmg scoff at Electra, who is left to wai ^Ll^^r. concerto with the Chorus. ^ '" inctilrsTrvlf thf '"' '^^ '' accentuated, and a further an,,H. , naaent serves th,s purpose. Chrysothemis returns from ««*«'e^ the tomb, radiant : she has disrov<.„^ 1 '^^0'^<^ • streams of milW on^ , discovered upon it flowing thcmiis ' theZlH ."!'"''/"'^ ^ g^rfand of all the flowers that deck "'«"'■ ^rr^k^dC'Th^" '-^ ^"^-^'"t departure when, fl'STe lo^XtC o^ ^^^ tr^iiSTr Te^oT " ^""^ -^ --'"- en ao the deed of vengeance by themselves. I / ' 156 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. HAP^IV. and be called the sisters twain that saved their father's house. But Chrysothemis shrinks before the very proposal : Lo, thou wast bom a woman, not a man. Instead of feeling reproach, she herself reproaches her sister with lack of ' cautious reverence,' and the bickering breaks out again, until the younger sister takes her departure t^n T%^ ' "°"' '° '""*'"*^ '^^^"g«- But she has won the Chorus, and the ode which follows celebrates Electra as emulating the piety of the stork and the faithful melancholy of the nightingale, invoking all success for the best and wisest of daughters. seen!! *'tk '° ™"^^P'■«I»'■a"•on for the coming recognition scene. The dramatist has been playing with the emotions that enter into it : first the bitterness of the forensic contest was a measure of the hopes and fears bound up with the expectation of Orestes, then the false news changed hope and fear into despair and blind security in order to make the shock of meeting the greater; despair then in the light of a moment's false hope seemed the more despairing, and finally Electra's undertaking the impossible task herself meant her abandoning the very thought of Orestes. Then It IS that Orestes comes. But though the meeting has meeting: , t" P'^''^' f"^ ""e'^ognition is still delayed until the despair -ecosniHon °f Electra shall be at its deepest. Orestes enters bearing ^uLyeJ. T- "T: ^ u ^""°""«^. ^^ if to by-standers, that it con tains the ashes of Orestes. Electra begs leave to clasp the urn m her arms, and pours over it a flood of grief. Here is nothingness to represent the dear child she sent out in the bloom of youth, and all her forethought has perished ! And he died among strangers, without her to take part in the funeral ntes ! All her sweet toil in nursing him with more brmh' T t. 7J' ^°"' ' ^" '^ gone-father, mother, brothe . She would go too ; they ever shared an equal lot now let her go to him, ashes to ashes ! This outburst conveys to Orestes that in the dishevelled VActual J / ^.^ r — 11 THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES, 157 and faded figure before him he sees his princess sister Chap. n. Electra, who saved him from death, the thought of whom " has been the ideal of his life. His emotion delays the re- cognition on its very threshold : he can only tremble, and amazedly question. Orest. What shall I say? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue I ^''^(^' What sorrow now Disturbs thee? Wherefore art thou speaking thus? Ores. Is this Electra's noble form I see? Elcc. That self-same form indeed, in piteous case. Ores. Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine. Elec, Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me ! The force of parallel verse is illustrated as, detail by detail, Orestes extracts from the unconscious Electra the full account of her sad condition. When this is all told, and when the Chorus are discovered to be friends, even then the mutual recognition is hindered a moment by the very mode in which Orestes seeks to make the announcement. He bids Electra put away the urn, but she clings to the ' tomb of Orestes ' ; he cries out at the ill omen of this phrase, but she understands some dishonour that sunders her from her loved one's relics. At last comes the plain truth— Of those that live there is no sepulchre, and the speaker shows the well-known seal. In verses broken by embraces the wild joy finds vent. But even now the full effect of the recognition is not exhausted. The Addition of noisy emotion brings from the palace the Attendant of "" '■^'■'''^. r\ ^ ^ , , . recogttition Orestes, who reproaches his master with the risk he \s effect. running of being overheard. This gives opportunity for pointing out to Electra the faithful old friend to whom she had committed the precious child j fresh embraces take place, and so by a final touch of artistic handling the main recognition is linked on to a second effect of the same kind. The way is now clear for the fourth stage of the action, ■•\ 158 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, :hap. IV Fourth Stage : Assassina- tion of Clytam- nestra. and of Aegisthus . irony of the finale. the conspiracy against Clytaemnestra and Aegisthus. In this part of the story the difference between the versions of Aeschylus and Sophocles is just what we should expect. Aeschylus dismisses with brief treatment the assassination of Aegisthus, and gives prominence to the matricide which was to be the foundation of the following play. Sophocles, with no such consideration to hamper him, naturally throws into the background the unpleasant topic of matricide, and reserves for his chmax the murder of Aegisthus, which he makes a masterpiece of the irony for which he is so famous. Orestes and Pylades are taken by the Attendant within the palace, and the Chorus, in a brief ode, mark the critical moment when the avengers pass beneath the roof-tree of their victim. Electra rushes out to stand guard in case Aegisthus should arrive, not before she has had a glimpse of Clytagmnestra preparing a burial urn with * those two ' by her side. Cries from within tell the accomplishment of the deed, and for a moment Orestes is seen, red-handed : Thy mother's sin shall shame thee never more ! Aegisthus is now seen approaching, and the irony begins : irony permeates the whole situation, and even penetrates to the very words of the speakers, sentence after sentence being, whether consciously to the speakers or not, true in a double sense. The usurper has caught from slaves some rumour of the visitors, and so eager is he on his entrance that he questions even his enemy Electra. Aeg. Elec. Aeg. Elec. Aeg. Elec, Aeg. Elec. Where are the strangers, then? Tell this to me. Within ; for they have found a loving hostess. And did they say distinctly he was dead? Ah no! they showed it, not in words alone. And is it here, that we may see it plain? 'Tis here, a sight most pitiful to see. Against thy wont thou giv'st me cause for joy. Thou may'st rejoice, if this be ground for joy. Aegisthus bids the gates be thrown wide, that all Argos and / / } / / THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES. 159 been learnt hv J^^.- « i u ^ ^^^ ^^^^on has Whoa.:! ^r^; . rtrsL'::; '1 -"' ''^°- disclose a corpse covered I^'T^^X^^: a'd Pylades standing behind in the shadow of thl^h^esS/' r\ '7 -Lo, 1 see O Zeus, a sight that comes right well for me- Withdraw the veil that hides the face that I To kindred blood may pay the meed'of LL A voice from the depths of the threshold replies - Do thou uplift it. -Tis thy task, not mine M^ Th °" '''"' '^^ '""'■ly ^°'ds to speak And th ,f yet she tarries in the house ' ^all C]yt£3emnestra. ' As Aegisthus lifts the veil the same voice responds .- Here she lies before thee, ^^ Seek her not elsewhere. Oh, what sight is this! Chap. iv. Orest. Aeg. Whom fearest thou? Who i«; if f>,« a Into whose snares, wh^eXl^^^^^^^^^^ Havel, poor victim, fallen I °^^^^ ^^sh Long since that thou didst splTtl te Z As they were dead? ^ ^^ ^""^ ^^^ ^^^^ Tf r^c^A , ^^ ™^' I catch thy words n \ 1 60 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, \ C !f Chap. IV. Oresf. Wert thou then deceived, Thou excellent diviner? Aegisthus struggles to get a hearing, but even Electra's feminine pity cries out not to prolong the agony. With a mixture of terror, sullen dignity, taunts and bitterness, the murderer is forced within that he may meet his doom on the spot where he did the sin. The gates close on the Unmixed vengeance, and the Chorus— in contrast to the conclusion triumph of q{ Aeschylus's play— give expression to the unmingled the con- . , r i • elusion. tnumph of their cause. O seed of Atreus, after many woes Thou hast come forth, thy freedom hardly won, By this emprise made perfect! Euripides : lis special annexion vith devel- pment. At in tht His Realism. We come now to Euripides. Next to Shakespeare, Euri- pides has been the best abused poet in the history of litera- ture. And the reason is the same in both cases : each has been associated prominently with a dramatic revolution vast enough to draw out the fundamental difference between two classes of minds— those that incline to a simple ideal per- fectly attained, and those that sympathise rather with a more complex purpose which can be reached only through con- flict. The changes in ancient drama promoted by this third of the three great masters are all in the direction of modern variety and human power : from the confined standpoint of Attic Tragedy they may represent decay, in the evolution of the universal drama they are advance and development. Euripides laid the foundation for an edifice of which the coping-stone is Shakespeare. One distinctive feature attracts notice in the most cursory study of Euripides. He is pre-eminently the poet of realism. Not that he is less ideal in his treatment of the mythic stories than his predecessors. But he loves to disturb the stately harmony of tragic style by some discordant note taken straight from the every-day realities of life, and appeal- ing to the elementary sympathies of our common humanity. \ /' J^ I '■ Chap. IV THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES, 161 Our Euripides the human With his droppings of warm tears, And his touchings of things common Till they rose to touch the spheres. This conflict of real and ideal he constantly maintains : it is so much addition to the totality of dramatic impressiveness, and is ever bringing home to us how deeply the ideal pene- trates the commonplaces of life. Euripides is in this respect the forerunner of the modern Romantic Drama, in which — without any sense of conflict — homely touches and tragic grandeur are so completely harmonised that, in application to Shakespeare, the antithesis of real and ideal ceases to have any meaning. No better illustration could be desired for the realism of The Euripides than the ' Peasant ' he has added to the Story of Electra OF Electra. In all three versions it is a point to emphasise the Euri- woful situation of Electra : Aeschylus and Sophocles repre- ^^^^^• sent her as neglected, chidden, threatened : in the version of ^^ffhe'^" Euripides a new torture has been contrived for her by the Peasant. fiendish malignity of Aegisthus. He has forced her into a marriage with a baseborn peasant, thus at once inflicting on herself the suffering of social degradation, and providing against the risk of some other alliance that might bring power to back Electra's vengeance. But Aegisthus has overreached himself. Unwittingly he has selected as the instrument of his mahce one of those noble souls that are independent of outward rank : in condition a peasant and poor, yet as proud of his pure Mycenaean blood as Aegisthus of his royal state. He has a simple instinct of fidelity to the family of his native prince as against the foreign usurper, and a quiet exterior that can veil the sus- tained purpose by which he cheats the tyrant, and acts only as pretended husband to Electra, offering the shelter of his humble roof until better times shall come. At once we have secured the union of the homely and the noble, so M / / l62 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, Chap^IV. dear to Euripides, and the introduction of this Peasant carries a thread of realism through the whole story, to interweave with its most ideal effects. fpZngtf ^^ ^^^ ''''^'^^ *^^ '^^^^^"^ ^PP^^^s in the very scene of the theplSy, play. In place of the traditional palace, we have the Peasant's cottage occupying the centre of a broken and mountainous country : on the one side is the fountain-head of the river Inachus, on the other the road to Mycense lined with pastures. The prologue opens with a picture of every- day work, elevated by an exquisite glimpse of the relations between Electra and her reputed husband. The stars are still shining when the Peasant enters from the cottage on his way to his day's work. He offers his morning prayer to the River, and as he prays his thoughts wander to the scenes that River has looked upon : the mighty host marching to Troy, the dread deeds that the return from Troy ushered in. He thinks then of the share he himself has been called to bear in this history of the great, and the reverent distance at which he keeps himself from his princess-wife. At this moment Electra appears, with a watering-pot in her hand : not seeing the Peasant at first, she too commences a morning prayer, addressed to ' dark-browed Night, nurse of the golden stars.' The Peasant goes to her, and gently remonstrates agamst the domestic labour indicated by the watering-pot, for which her birth is so unfitting. Electra turns lovingly to him : Thee equal to the gods I deem, my friend ! When all else was hostile he alone has been to her a gentle power,- lenient of grief, mighty source of consolations Shall she then suffer him to lack the comradeship in toil the sweet ordering of home by woman's hand, which he has sacrificed for her sake ? The Peasant gives way with a simplicity of acceptance as graceful as Electra's condescen- sion ; and the idyl terminates as Electra descends to the THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES, 163 river, and the Peasant, with a few cheerful words of zest for wor^:, disappears up the road to the mountain. ihe play falls into the same four stages as the other versions. When the preliminary scene, opening out the new element added to the story, has taken place by starlight, the way is clear for the first stage — the arrival of Orestes, with Pylades and Attendants, just as grey morn is opening its radiant eye. He has come by divine command to avenge his father's death. The first charge of the god — that he should present offerings on his father's tomb — he has already fulfilled by night. The second charge is mysterious, that he should not enter the walls of the city : and on this he would fain consult his sister, now living, he hears, a wedded wife in the country. The party step aside, and conceal themselves amongst the rocks as they hear a foot- step and see ' some female slave ' approaching. The step is that of Electra returning from the river with her water-pot filled, and the play reaches its second stage in the lyric elaboration of the opening situation, which Euripides, as Sophocles, disposes in a monody followed by a concerto. First Electra herself, in rhythmic movements which no doubt would carry her through various poses of vase-bearing, which are the delight of Greek art, laments for her slain father, her exiled and suffering brother, and calls upon her father's spirit for vengeance. Then a Chorus of Maidens from Mycenae enter, excited with great news : the city is to celebrate a special --festival in honour of Here, and the Chorus wish their old playmate and princess to lead them once more in the dance. Electra bitterly points to her rags, and replies that she is fit only for tears. They bid her try the effect of festal vows on the gods who have lost their ear for the wretched, and as to fitting attire that shall be their care. Here we have another example_of J^uripides' reiUism interposed amid lyric statdiness : to be stopped from a festival by not having clothes fit to go in rnay be a very aT 2 Chap. IV. First Stage : Return of Orestes. The ora- cular command. Second Stage : Elabora- tion of the SituatioHj I r 164 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, Chap. IV interwoven with the third stage. riot treatment of Sopho- cles and Euripides ompared. ( The Recog- nition in prosaic calamity, but it would be in real life just such a reminder of descent in social scale as might well be the bitterest ingredient in the flavour of Electra's misfortunes. The lyric dialogue is interrupted by a sob from the con- cealed Orestes : Electra, who lives the life of a hunted thing, is instantly taking to flight, when the strangers come forward and with difficulty reassure the women. The play then enters upon its third stage. This stage, the meeting of brother and sister, is treated by Euripides with no less elaboration than by Sophocles, but with a difference of purpose that illustrates a second special tendency of the younger poet. In Sophocles we have the sustained deepening of a single interest; Euripides, on the contrary, exhibits a striving after complexity and the multiplication of emotional interests. Sophocles heaps together incidents that all work visibly towards a common climax, which is delayed only that it may be accentuated. In Euripides there is again and again a diversion in order to take in new trains of emotions, and the attention has to be distracted before it is allowed its final satisfaction. The movement in a play of Sophocles is a simple spiral, that goes round and round only to ascend the more gradually. For Euripides the best illustration— and if it is a homely illustration it would have suited the poet the better— would be the figure known to children as the * cat's cradle.' A plain loop is held round the extended hands : the right hand catches up from the left and the left from the right and the \ loop becomes double, the process is repeated and the loop is seen to be treble, quadruple ; but the complexity is de- pendent only on the performer's will, for a smart pull brings the whole back to the simple loop as at first. So the progress of events in a play of Euripides multiplies at every turn the varying interests that are at last seen to combine in a common goal. The portion of the play that deals with the meeting of THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES. 165 brother and sister is complex at its very outset. Orestes Chap. IV. has in the previous stage overheard his sister's story, and j^ . . , knows who she is ; but in the hurry of recalling the cotnplex at startled women, and not knowing if the Chorus are to be ^^^^ outset. trusted, he has taken up the difficult role of a messenger from himself. In this way he has to draw from Electra the whole tale of her troubles without letting his emotions betray his assumed disguise. Orest. Why here thy dwelling, from the city far? Elec. O stranger, in base nuptials I am joined — Orest. {sobbing). I feel thy brother's grief ! — To one of rank ? Elec. Not as my father once to place me hoped ! — Orest. That hearing I may tell thy brother, speak. For seventy lines of parallel verse without a break this dialogue is continued, Orestes prolonging his enquiries to test how his sister would behave should her brother return. When the truth has thus been drawn out in scattered frag- ments, it is, according to custom, gathered into a full stream of denunciation in a rhesis of Electra. She paints her degraded and servile condition, her mother's splendour, the tyrant riding on the same car as the king he murdered, and pouring offerings upon the hearth he violated, while the hero's tomb is insulted, and all things are calling on Orestes. The situation is just ripe for the denouement, when the unexpected return of the Peasant from the fields not only causes a diversion, but introduces an entirely fresh element into the plot. Diversion The Peasant is astonished at seeing a party of strangers "i]iiJ^stof conversing with Electra : when he hears of them as messen- hospitality. gers from Orestes he instantly calls for refreshments, and begs the travellers to delay no longer to enter his cottage : — poverty is no excuse for not offering what entertainment he can give. I have before insisted on the necessity of re- membering that in Greek life hospitality was not one of the lighter sentiments, but one of the loftiest passions ; and / f 166 AiXC/ENT Tl^A ill: J) I '. Chai'. IV. this triumph of hospitable instinct over paucity of means moves Orestes to an elo(iuent rhesis on the contrasts left by nature between heart and outward conditions : Meanness oft grovcllini; in the rich man's mind And oft exalted spirits in the poor. But this heroic aspect of hospitality is at once linked to its more prosaic side when the visitors have entered the cottage, and Electra— in a way that will api)eal to every house- keeper—is left fuming at her thoughtless man of the house, who has invited guests altogether beyond his means of entertaining, and in the embarrassment he is causing has no more practical suggestion to make than this :— If they arc noble, as their port Denotes them, will they not alike enjoy Contentment, be their viands mean or rich? The only device Electra can think of is to send for assist- ance to her one friend, her father's old servant who pre- served Orestes on the fatal day, and has ever since had to hide himself in obscurity, a herdsman almost as poor as Electra herself. The Peasant goes to fmd him. Mean- while, not only is the recognition delayed, but there are now two distinct emotions aroused in our minds, family aflcction and humble hospitality, drifting apparently to a common satisfaction when Orestes shall crown the rustic feast with his secret that he is the long-ex[)ected brother. JUit this is not to be: Euripides has a third train of interest to interweave before he will allow the knot to be untied. After an interval, filled up by a choral ode, the Old Servant is seen painfully toiling up the steep ascent to the cottage under the weight of a kid and other viands he is bringing. As guardian to Agamemnon he is necessarily a man on the extreme verge of life, and a new interest comes with him into the play— the pathos of faithful old age. When Electra goes to his assistance she finds him in tears. His road has brought him i)ast his dear master's Another diversion : interest oj Jiiithjiil old a^e. s \ ^ (I \ THE ELECTRA OE KURIPIDES. 1^7 tomb, and turning aside to do it reverence he found it C'iiai'. W. strewn with signs of sepulchral honours — a victim's blood, tresses freshly shorn, and fragments of vesture. Perchance with secret step thy Ijrothcr came, And paid these honours to his father's tomb. It is easy for Electra to show the unlikeliness of this, but the old man persists : he wants J^lectra lo compare the tresses with her own hair, to measure by her own foot tlie foot- steps at the tomb. When these suggestions have been dismissed with gentle contempt, still the old man niaifitains his point: — But had thy ])roth('r, sIiouM he come, no vest "Which thou wouldst know, tlie tcxtiirc of thy hands. In which when snatched from dcatli he was arrayed ? This is of course the absurdest sugg('stif)n of all : were tlie fact so, Electra naturally rei)lies, how could he be now dressed in the same, * unless his vests grew with his person's growth.' But it is [)recisely in the absurdity that the pathos of the scene lies : it is second childhood clinging, in defianre of reason and common sense, to the one hoi)e of a lifetime. And this realistic detail of senility rises to the tragic dignity of an inspiration when the old man is proved to have been right : admitted to a sight of the strangers, he moves like a dog round and round Orestes and forces the recognition which the hero was reserving for some aj)propriatc moment. So Euripides' handling (;f the recognition incidents is com- K^;oy pleted ; it has been, fiot the iiie.'isiir; r to a goal well m sight, but a beautiful confusion of I'as ,,///// ^, sionate details only seen in the end to be a harmony. ^"^t^<-s'^ Electra's sufferings for herself and her exiled brother have /j,-,/. been detailed in the exile's hearing, her messages of ai)i)eal have been unconsciously addressed to himself; the new interest of hospitable [)overty has interposed an obstacle to the recognition, and yet a new diversion has added the i68 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, CiiAi'. IV. spectacle of faithful love surviving intellect: until all three trains of emotion have been harmonised toj^'cther when the faithful old man, in his hospitable mission at the ( otia'v door, brings about the discovery of the brother who will put an end to the troubles of all, Jouvth 'I'hc play now passes to its fourth sta-e, the conspirac v trcaudfor '^^-'^nist Aegisthus and Clyta:mnestra. Here may again be .v/////c.»//i'. seen the tendency of Kuripides to mulliply emminnal situations; unlike both Aeschylus and Soj.Imm hs he pro vides a separate plot against each of the tyrants, an arrange- ment which has the effect of furnishing four distinct scenes, all liighly charged with passion. Aegisthus, it appears, is expected at a rustic festival in a neighbouring pasture; Orestes and his companions agree to seek admission as travellers, and kill the usurper while he is in the very act of sacrifice. Clylienmestra is to be enticed to the cottage by a rei)ort that IClectra has given birth to a child, and desires her mother's i)resence at the ten days' rite. The (on spirators sei)arate for their allotted parts, and the Chorus fill up the period of waiting with an ode. lujj"^''' ^^ "^''^^ ^^ pointed out that this ode, like another earlier \n the play, illustrates a tendency observable in the later development of Tragedy to reduce the closeness of con- nexion between an ode and the matter of the ei)isofles between which it stands. When the Chorus had to fill up the interval during which the Old Servant was being fetched, they plunged suddenly into the glories of the lleet that sailed for 'IVoy, dwelt upon the details in the shield of Achilles, and only at the end connected their theme with the plot of the play— it was one conmianding heroes like these that the accursed wife dared to slay. So now, when there is again a pause in the action, the legendary history of Mycenas furnishes a story of a Clolden Fleece, presented in a series of pictures -the marvel of it, the festival that was to celebrate its disposal, the awful crime by which Thyestes 77IE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES. 169 (father of Aegisthus) secured it, the convulsion of all nature Cfiai-. IV at the horror of the deed. In tlie final lines the ode is made relevant : SI1C, this iioMc j);iir who Ijorc, l);irc(l to iminlcr— (Iced abhonctl — lliis fori^ot, her royal lord. .The assassination of Aigisthus is presented in the form of .1/. jv,v/- a messenger's spee( h : it may well be reckoned ainon^/st the X'^' / scenes of the pla\, :.(> diainalic !■; the '.pjiit iiihiM «| jnio iis .l.unMn graphic details. As an epic pic tiiie, its main iiitcicst lies in "['•"'"' the fulness with whic h it (lisjtlays sacrificial ceremonial. The s[)ee(:h paints the locality gardens fresh with myrtle Irei-s and watercourses, the busy preparations for the hast, the invitation to the travellers as they |)ass along the road to stay and partake; how these, announcing themselves as Thessalians noted connoisseurs in matters of sac:rificial ritual-obtain a foremost place at the creremony, and skilfully evade the lustral rites that might make their in- tended i\vxd a \i()Iation of hos|)italily. Irony conies into the scene as Aegisthus is heard praying that his c)\vn fortune: and his dreacled enemy's may ever be 'as now'; still more when, in friendly challenge, he hands his murderer the knife and axe with which to slay him. Orestes thus holdincr the situation in his hands prolongs it, working through his manipulation of the vie tim with Thessalian regularity, until it is j)ossible for the tyrant, as master of the ceremonies, to inspect the omens. In tlic- ciilrails was no lohc; The valves and cells llw j^all conlaininj.^ showed Dreadful events t(» him that \icwed them near. Gloomy, his visat^'c darkened. With a jest at the idea of fearing an exile, Orestes proc:eeds to the final step, and (leaves the bullock's breast. Aegisthus, yet intent. Farted the entrails; and, as low he bowed His head, thy brother, rising to the stroke, Chap. IV. Ekitras rhcsis of ation. The Foicn%ic Contest. 170 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, Drave through his back the ponderous axe, and rived The spinal joints : the heaving body writhed And fjuivcred, struggling in the pangs of death. Tlicrc is a critical moment of tumult, then an a|)|)cal from Orestes to his father's retainers, a recognition, and universal shouts of triumph. A second scene of passion ensues wlicn the cor])se is brought upon the stage, and over it ICIectra — not without falterings of womanly pity at seeing the tokens of mortal sufTering — gives vent to a life's hatred in a denunciation of the fallen tyrant. She speaks of the crimes he had done against their house ; of his shameful union with her mother, with its wretchedness, where each partner was conscious of the other's guilt; of his trust in fleeting riches, his beauty fit only for the dance : not omitting the thought which ever haunted a Greek mind -that none may be counted fortunate till he has attained the goal of death. At this moment Clyta:mnestra is seen approaching. Orestes is hurried into the cottage, distracted at the thought of the deed he is to do. The (Jueen comes riding into the orchestra in a car of gold, attended by a long train of 'i'rojan captives. The Chorus play their part by receiving her with tones of adulation. Clytaimnestra calls her slaves to assist her to alight, j^lectra, in her nigs, rushes forward and Ijcgs that she may assist her mother. Clytx'mnestra is 'shocked at the change which years of poverty have worked in her daughter, and her words fall into an apologetic tone. The scene settles down into the conventional forensic contest: but, placed where Euripides has placed it, this ordinarily formal scene receives a glow of passion reflected on to it from the incident that precedes and the catastrojihe which is to follow. Cly ta:mnestra makes good cai)ital of her w rongs : her Iphigenia, like a blooming flower, was mown down by Agamemnon, not for the public weal, but in a cjuarrel over the wanton Helen. If to avenge the deed she united herself THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES, 171 \ \ with another, was this more than fair rerpiital for her CirAi-. I\ husband's shame in bringing back from Troy the beauteous Cassandra? Electra, ronsrious of the doom impending over her adversary, is bitterly humble in r raving permission to reply. Accorded it, she ga/.es uw her mother's lieauly, and speaks of the two fatnl sisters, Helen whose be.'inty l;ii(l Troy low, and the other who broiighl down Troy's eon^jueror. With an advocate's steady skill she (ills into ( Mylienniestra's story the details she had omitted : -how before the loss of Iphigenia she adorned herself to please Aegisthus, how throughout the war she alone rej(jiced when the enemy prevailed, how slie still lets her paramour persecute the innocent children of her husband. Amid her i)Iens are interspersed stately moral maxims- api)cals to an audienf e of forensi(- exjierts. Whether from conscience or ])ity, ClytX'mnestra begins to feel compun( tion : she has been harsh, but for the fulurc she will be kinder, and so shall Aegisthus. She speaks these words almost in the hearing of those who have already dotie vengeance on Aegisthus and are wailing to slay her ; and in s[.eaking them she lets sli|> the secret — which not even ILIectra had suspected before -that it was she who urged Aegisthus to his harshness. Upon this, Electra can only let the j)lot take its r onrse. Clyta:mnestra prei)ares to enter the < ollage, bidding her slaves return for her when they think she will have paid these rites to the gods. Electra ceremoniously ushers her in, bidding her see that her vestments be not defiled by the smoke : then turns before following her mother to si)eak words of terrible triumph :— - There slialt thou saciinco, as to the gods IJchoves thee sacrifice! The l)askct there Is for the rites prepared, and the keen bbide Which struck the bull; beside him thou shall fall ]',y a like blow; in IMuli/s courts his bride lie shall receive, with whom in heaven's fair light Thy couch was shared : to thee this grace I give, Thou vengeance for my father shalt give me. 172 ANCIENT TKACEDY. CnAi|^IV. A moment of dreadful suspense is covered hy the Chorus Crisis and '''''° "'"S ^ow the waves of nnschief are nowini; l,ack, the lUa^iion: gale of violence is veering. 'I'hen shouts from within proclami the deed done. lUit the scene that ensues <„n.es upon us as a surprise. Orestes rushes from the colta-e s«,>„l ,„ lund, Kle,lra foll,>w,„K : insl..,.! „f il„. ,.v|„.,,",l inumpl,, we .see Iheni crushed .uul horror-stri, km I he high-wrought spirit and trust in the divine nnssion „f vengeance which had supported them so long iias deserted them as soon as the deed was accomplished ; a revulsion of feehng has come over them, and they realise the full guilt and shame of matricide. The details of the horrible scene pres.s upon their memory : OrcsUs. IIoI,lii,5,r my robe before mine eves I r.iiscd ■llic sword .iiKl ,iUiM{;c' f"l' of I'--'«sion. ]iut meanwhile, this wa y of feehng after emotional situations has brought the plot into confusion : by such a backward swing of the action at the last n.oment despair has taken the place of triun.ph, and, «Hh the details of the story all exhausted, ho«- is the plot to be extricated and a position of rest found ? This dilll<:ulty is met by a device dear to i; uripi^ of j.ri.lc, Nor in alllictions .'^iinl:, IIkIi voy.ij^c < nrj. 2. Nature nnd Range of Transition Influences. I now proceed from single plays lo development as a whole in Ancient Tragedy. It will be observed that there is a difference between ^u'',ut. writing the history of literature and tracing literary develr.p "'"^'^ mcnt. History will take note of all additions made lo the Jw,,, mass of literary production : the field of development will be '"'^ ^''- •' confined to such progress as exhibits itself in varieties of form ^JJL 174 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, Chap. IV Kani^e of the trails- it ion. Order of develop- mcnt not the same tis chrouo- lofi^ital sufic^sioji. and matter. In physical science it makes no dilTerence to the evolutionist whether the numl)er of rose-trees in the world belonging to a particular type can l)e reckoned by the score or by the million ; but he will concern himself with the smallest variation of type. So in the ordinary way literary development consists in the multii)lication of literary species. Ancient Trngedy is, however, to a certain extent an excep- tion : the period of literary activity in (Ireece was .so short, and the force of conservatism and conventionality so strong, that nothing amounting to a second species of Greek 'I'ragedy has come down to us. The whole range of the transition \vc arc to consider is confined to certain tendencies towards change within the limits of a single species. The treatment proper for our purpose will not be an attempt to divide Greek drama into periods such that the later would be developments out of the earlier. For one thing, order of development does not necessarily foHow chronological succession. Of course, a later form of develop- ment cannot i)recede in time an earlier form. lUit the converse is not true : enrher forms once developed nre eslablislied as models and can be reproduced side by side with later forms. Geologists have settled the order of the strata composing the crust of our earth, and have placed granite low, sedimentary rocks like limestone many places higher ; but this principle is not inconsistent with the appearance, owing to some upheaval, of granite and limestone side by side on the surface of adjacent districts. So in the history of Greek literature, forms described developmentally as early and late may be found in the same work and at any date. Moreover, the three masters of Ancient Tragedy were in part contemporary with one another. When Aeschylus died, ICuripides had been before the iniblic for six years, Sophocles had been in the front rank of poets for double that time ; and Sophocles and Euripides died in the same year. It is thus quite possible that Aeschylus was feeling \ 4 TRANSITIONAL ELEMENT IN GREEK TRA GED Y. 175 the influence of Sophocles when he gave so much more pro- Cum- iv mmence to plot in his later plays, and it seems hi-hly probable that in one drama Sophocles is accepting" in- novations from Euripides '. Thus, while literary histo'ry, in A,uicut discussmgthe individualities of the three tn.gir poets mj.rht ^>"/^0' <' describe them roughly as constituting three separate 'stng^s, ^^^t • yet for our pnrpos.. it will be W\Wr to look upon il,,. u|w,le asonesmgle perir.d, in whic h syn.pt.nnsol lr.insiti(,n luc.nie visible. Development in reference to such a period v<\\\ it^ consist in variations from the tyi)e-a type determined by '"'"'•. ■ mduction from a survey of the whole. Such variations '^^^^itiolL visible in the works of nil three, will n,,pear least in f 7 '^'^ Aeschylus, nnd be very prominent in ICinipides. Vet cvm ^''' in the enrliest of the three there will be found a few very wide dilTercnces from the normal form, while some return to the Aeschylean manner is to be traced in plays so late as the Hercules and Baciha?iah of I':uripidcs. Before the details of this development are examined, it may D.rchp- be convenient to en(|nire what were the for( es by whirl, it '''^■^''^" was bron,.;h( about. Th<- in(l„,nres „„ r.wvV TraiM.ly of Its age and sorial sinro.nKlings tended mainly towards llxiiy of form ; the forces making for progress belonged chiefly to the natural order of things. In distinguishing them, two may be named together: they are specific decay and natural -A-'>^- expansion. A sj.ecies in literature will be constituted by the '^""-^'' exceptional prominence of some important form, or set of characteristics, which give an impulse to inn'fation ; when the attraction u\ these forms and characteristic s declines the nnpulsc to exac tness of imitation weakens, and, while the species may continue, its si,ecific distinctiveness becomes less marked. Again, one tendency of literature, as of all art, '^^L^ ' The r/n-Avte/rs, u.nally co,,.!,).,, rl om- of tl.c latest j.roductions c.f Sophocles. n,.,,car. to n.e to f,,Ilow i:„ri,.i,lc .1.. nKlIiod in (,)ulnt I have callul the ' ,,cmlt.U,m action ' 'nl>„vc, ,.n.i;e .37) ami (2) (he I livinc Intervention : neither of which oecurs elsewhere outside Knrij.irlcs 176 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, Chap. IV. under free conditions is to become fuller, more various, str'^le of ^^^^ complex. A third developmental influence has to be matter and added to these. Literature is not art merely, it is also a form. medium for thought : the balance of matter and form be- comes sometimes disturbed, and types appear in which now one now the other is dominant. Greek Tragedy was pre- eminently a medium for thought : it was the pulpit and press of its age, in which religious, political, and social topics were freely discussed. It gave admittance, moreover, to two non- dramatic elements— epic poetry introduced by the accidents of its origin, rhetoric forced upon it by the tastes of its audience. It was natural that there should arise at times a struggle between thought and form in Ancient Tragedy, between what was intrinsic and what was extraneous, and this struggle will be seen to form a third disturbing force in dramatic history. Under such influences as these, an element of transition appears in Greek Tragedy ; it falls into certain well-marked lines of development, which it will be the object of the following sections to trace. 3. Instability of the Chorus. S^/j a '^^^ technical name for the tragic poetry of Greece is first line Choral Tragedy, its distinctiveness as a species of the of^d^elop- universal drama lying in the union of a lyric element with drama: if this union by any cause becomes weakened, _ specific decay sets in. Now, this amalgamation of lyric and dramatic in Greek Tragedy was a highly artificial union ; the lyric Chorus had not only evolved a separate dramatic element, but itself entered into the dramatic just so far as to i adopt a slender characterisation, which it maintained through odes and episodes. Such artificial combinations are highly ^ unstable. They may be compared to the unstable equilibrium of the pyramid nicely balanced on its apex, liable to change I CHORUS INCREASINGL V BR A A/A TIC. 1 77 at any moment to a position of rest ; or they resemble chemical compounds, some of the elements in which have less affinity for one another than for surrounding things, and are continually feeling after new combinations. So the in- stability of the Chorus is the foundation for the first line of development in Ancient Tragedy, which may be thus formulated -.—T/ie Chorus, occupy ijig an unstable position bettveen lyric a Jid dra7natic functions, tends to give way in both directions. On the one hand it tends to become more dramatic, and pass into the play as a body of actors ; on the other hand there is a tendency for the choral part to become more strictly lyrical, and lose connexion with plot and characters. First, the Chorus is more and more drawn into the dra- matic action. In the type, the Chorus are just within the story as spectators. They are dependants of the hero: senators of Agamemnon, or sailors who have followed the lead of Ajax to Troy. Or they are friends coming to sympathise, like the Argive maidens who pay a visit of condolence to Electra, or the Chorus in Fro?netheus and in Ion, who at distinct points in the action take sides with the suffering hero and the persecuted Creusa. Or they are still more strictly by^standers: in Oedipus at Colonus the Chorus IS made up of pa"Jsers by, called togHher by the cries of one who is shocked to see the sacred grove violated by a traveller; in a play of Euripides the Chorus are themselves travellers— ^ Women from Phoenicia' detained in Thebes by the war, who look on the whole action with foreign eyes. But there are a few plays in which the Chorus are unmis- takably actors in the story. An early play of Euripides, the Rhesus, dramatises a single night of the Trojan war! The Chorus are the night watch : it is they who give the alarm as to movements in the Grecian camp; they take their full share in the council of war which follows ; their momentary absence from their post gives opportunity for N Chap. IV. Two opposing- tendencies. The Chorus drawn into the drama- tic action : as secon- dary actorSf > 178 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Chap. IV. the enemy to commit his depredations, and on their return they actually arrest Odysseus, but have to release him; in the discovery that follows, they are the first to be sus- pected. The Chorus have here acted a part second only to that of Aeneas and the Grecian leaders. But in two plays— as primary both of them plays by Aeschylus— the Chorus are more than secondary actors. In the third part of the trilogy the Chorus of Furies serve as motive force for the whole drama : their action is divided between the stage and the orchestra, their persecution of the hero makes the plot, and their pacification is its disentanglement. And in the Suppliants, the Chorus are in the fullest sense of the term the heroines of the play : they enter in full flight from their enemies, their safety is the sole matter for religious supplication and dramatic contrivance, their threat of suicide is the turning- point of the action, actual violence is offered to them and repulsed, and with their divided feelings at the issue the poem concludes \ ^ntirl d ^^^" ^^^ peculiarly lyric function of the Chorus, the approach ^ntre'-acte, shows a tendency to become dramatic. An ode, dramati- especially an entrance-ode, comes to be addressed to an satton. t. • A actor : m Agamemnon the Chorus, in the middle of their parode, notice Clytaemnestra's ritual on the stage and make enquiries of her; in Hecuba and Andromache the Chorus, who come to bring news of evil, address the whole of their entrance-song to the heroines of the play. A step nearer to the dramatic is taken when the parode or some entre'-acte is shared with an actor in the form of a concerto; the choral portion of Prometheus and the two Electras opens » In the Suppliants of Euripides the position of the Chorus is theoretically the same as in Aeschylus's play, but a difference is made by the fact that Aethra speaks for them in the episodes. In three plays of Euripides, the Hecuba, Daughters of Troy, Iphigenia amongst theTauri, the Chorus are captives, whose fortunes are bound up with those of the personages in the plot. CHORUS INCREASINGLY DRAMATIC, 179 with such duetts of sympathy \ Finally, we have a case in Chap IV which an interlude is wholly surrendered to an actor, and Electra's monody (in Orestes) over the ruin of her house serves exactly the same purpose as the ode on the same subject by the Chorus in a previous part of the play ' One more symptom of reduced lyric activity on the part Strophic ot the Chorus may be seen in the separation of a strophe '^^'^otomy from its antistrophe. The correlation of these two stanzas of ^/^T" a pair is the essence of choral form : their separation by an '^''^''''• interval arises from the utilisation of lyrics for dramatic purposes. In a case taken from the Phesus the purpose is to mark stages in the development of an intrigue ; as soon as Aeneas has started his suggestion of sending a spy to the Grecian camp the Chorus express approval in a strophe, which finds its antistrophe when an agent has been found in Dolon to accept the dangerous mission I It is more remarkable to find such strophic dichotomy affecting parts of a play widely sundered from one another, and in fact belonging to different episodes. In Hippolytus, when Phae- dra has just made her terrible disclosure, the Chorus give lyric expression to the shock which all feel, before the sub- sequent conversation plants in the Nurse's mind the thought of her wicked device for rescue. When, in a later part of the play, the fatal consequences of the Nurse's action burst upon the women in the bitter denunciations of Hippolytus, the agitation falls into the same rhythm as in the former outburst : these two supreme shocks standing out from the * In Medea the Chorus, attracted by the cries of the Queen, enter into a duett of enquiry with the Nurse, and the delirious ravings of Medea behmd the scenes make this a concerto of three. "" See Structure of the Orestes, in Table on page 438. 3 Rhesus, 131 and i95--Compare the elaborate use of this form in the S^en against Thebes {z^o->j 16) : description of the hostile forces and disposition of the Theban army in successive passages of blank verse in- terposed between strophes and antistrophes of comment.— Another example in Philoctetes, 391 and 507. N 2 i8o ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Chap^IV. rest of the action, bound together by antistrophic corre- spondence \ In this way divided odes obtain a footing in Tragedy : at last we find them usurping the place of full odes in the specially lyric function of the entre'-acte I In all these ways— by increased activity in the episodes, by the attraction of the interludes to dialogue, and by the modification of the strophic form itself for purposes of dra- matic effect— we trace the instability of the Chorus on this one side of tending to pass from lyric to dramatic. I may just anticipate a future chapter to point out here that this tendency is still further developed after the close of Greek Tragedy. The power of ignoring the Chorus throughout whole scenes of Seneca is a sign that it has lost its function of giving lyric embodiment to the unity of the whole play ; so far as it has any place in the action, it is there in the same category with the rest of the actors. II. Counter tendency : dedratna- tisation of the Chorus. Their function of modera- tors. We have now to notice the counter tendency of the Chorus to fall back into the purely lyric, and lose connex- ion with dramatic plot and characterisation. At the full, their normal position is slight enough— that of spectators. But with the forensic contest another function for the Chorus came in, which may be described by calling them * moderators ': as if they were presiding at a public meeting, their duty in such cases is formally to receive the person- ages who enter, and break up the length of a debate by interposing a brief conventional" remark as they turn from one speaker to another. In some plays of Euripides =* » Hippolytus, 362 and 669.-A less marked example is in the Rhesus 454 and 820. ' '' A case of this occurs in the Orestes : the effect of this divided ode near the end of the play is like that of an accelerando in music, as sug- gestmg the hurry of exciting events to the nearing climax. The whole play is a good example of the degree to which the lyric element can be drawn within the dramatic action. [See Tabular Analysis, page 438.] E. g. Hecuba and the Daughters of Troy. CHOR US BECOMING DE DRAMA TISED. • 1 8 1 this function is extended to a considerable portion of the Chap. iv. action : in Andromache, it seems to describe all that the Chorus do outside lyrical pasages \ In the odes this dedramatisation of the Chorus is again Interludes suggested by the practice of Euripides, in some of his plays "^'''J'''^'^- to dissociate the choral interludes from the point of the plot 'advent at which they occur, and connect their matter with the '^'''''^'' -' subject of the story as a whole. In the Hecuba and '"^''"^'' Daughters of Troy all the odes (after the parode) are of this description ; the captive women, awaiting the moment when they will be borne from Troy, sing the lands of their coming captivity, the fatal deed of Paris, the awful night of their city's fall : but ignore the particular scenes which each ode follows or precedes \ As a transitional step to or in this complete disconnexion between odes and episodes >^^''^- we have the interludes in which Euripides leads off with some distant theme, but at the close of the ode formally connects it with the course of the action. Examples have, in a previous section, been cited from the Electra. But the classic illustration of this treatment is a famous ode in the Hele7ia \ It occurs just where the intrigue of the play Helena. is to all appearance completely successful, and the dis- guised Menelaus has carried off Helen from the barbarian king, her captor, upon the pretext of celebrating his own death at sea. The Chorus, instead of expressing congratu- lation or relief, start upon the theme of the Mountain Mother inconsolable for her lost Daughter of the Mysteries. How in wild search she traversed thick-entangled forests and valleys of streaming floods, with loud clashing cymbals, ^ It might be remarked that this play seems largely made up of forensic contests. 2 In the Women from Fhanicia the legendary glory of Thebes (where the scene is laid) is resumed (sometimes abruptly) and carried on through several odes, with occasional reference to the situation of affaire in the play. ^ Helena, 1301. 4 V l82 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. \ Chap. IV. and in her train the Virgins of Heaven, Artemis of the silver bow and Pallas with her Gorgon : but Jove had set the fates against them all. How, foiled, she threw herself into solitudes beyond the eternal snows of Ida, amid damp weeds and rocky rudeness ; without her to bless them the plains, bare of the faintest green, wasted the generation of hien, and for lack of juicy tendrils the flocks failed and there were no victims for the altar; the very fountains, unfreshened by dews, told of inconsolable grief for a lost child. How at last all heaven was roused to interpose, and at Jove's own bidding they went on a mission of consola- tion — holy Graces, and Muses with chanted dances, Cypris, fairest of the blessed, leading the way with brass and drum : till at last joy again touched the Mother's heart and she took in her hand the sounding flute. It is now that the relevancy is made apparent. It is a point of this play that Euripides is here singing his palinode to Helen, and arrang- ing the legend so as to make her innocent. On this theory the seizure of Helen against her will, which has plunged the nations in the turmoil of the Trojan War, can find a parallel in nothing less than the great Rape of Proserpine, for which all heaven and earth had to mourn. Accordingly, in their final antistrophe, the Chorus suggest that Helen may have slighted the Great Mother, and therefore unholy violence has met her in her own marriage chamber ; now that de- liverance has come they bid her remember the due honours of heaven, and give herself to the profitable joys of the spotted fawn-skin and ivy-wreathed thyrsus, her vestments waving and hair streaming in the ring of the Bacchic dance. Decompo- sition of dra- matic 4. Other Ijines of Development. It has been shown in a former chapter that when, by the fusion of Chorus and Drama, Ancient Tragedy was con- stituted a distinct species, one of the most important effects >y DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY, 183 Of this fusion was to stamp upon its action a very peculiar Chap. IV. type of unity. It is natural, then, that the changes which exhibit Greek Tragedy as losing its specific distinctiveness "7^"^ ^'. should include a wavering in the unity of action as conceived ^devZp- by the ancients. Here we get a second line of development '^'''^' which may be described as the Decomposition of Dramatic Unity. Now the term ' unity ' has two senses, singleness and completeness; it is antithetical to variety and fragmentari- Two cross ness. Hence the decomposition in question covers two ^^'^^««^^- cross tendencies : one towards the variety and multiplicity of modern treatment, the other towards a kind of action which is, dramatically, imperfect. First, we are to trace a tendency towards variety and '. . multiplicity of action. It may be well to repeat how very ^^Zf strict the Greek conception of unity was. A modern andmu/ti- dramatist may weave many stories into one, and will na- ^fZliol turally place his readers in touch with many aspects of the "^ ''''''' matter with which he deals. But Choral Tragedy could admit only one story in a play, since only one Chorus could be common to the audience and the plot ; this one story moreover. Choral Tragedy could present only from a single side, since the Chorus, through whose eyes the audience would look, had their sympathies fixed by their characteri- sation. This is what unity was in the type : nevertheless, means were found to present occasional scenes otherwise than from the standpoint of the Chorus, and an approach was even made towards the admission of additional stories into the plot. Three devices introduced a measure of variety into the Emroac/i- mode of presenting a story, all tending in the direction '''^''^^ ^ of admitting the audience to see events with other eyes than S-'^ those of the Chorus. One of these is the forensic contest ^f'^'' which has been described at length in a previous chapter. Flensu It was that point in a tragedy where the dramatic spirit ^^""^''^^ yielded for a time to the forensic spirit, so strangely 184 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. CHAP^IV. Characteristic of the Athenians ; in form the scene remains an mcident of the play, but in tone it is a judicial proceeding, m which two personages drawn from opposing sides of the story put their respective cases with formal completeness the Chorus posing as judicial moderators. It is an approach to variety of standpoint for viewing the incidents of the play in the sense that it gives to opposing sympathies just that degree of free expression that is implied in a fair trial A modern dramatist would take us almost as deeply into the confidence of Clytaemnestra as into that of his heroine Electra. An ordinary scene in a Greek Tragedy could display Clytaemnestra only as she would appear to the hostile Chorus. But in the forensic contest the dramatist passes mto the advocate for both parties in succession, and makes a fair case for each; while the Chorus drop from sympa- thisers into arbitrators, and can even urge that each might learn of the other. The other two devices go further. The Prologue ' of a Greek Tragedy by definition includes all that precedes the entrance of the Chorus, and may amount to one or more scenes, m the modern sense of the word scene. Here we have as a regular thing, a section of the story not controlled by the presence of the Chorus. It may or may not amount to a breach in the unity of standpoint. The Prometheus is an example of a play in which the prologue, representing the act of naihng the hero to the rock, contains nothing that could not be transacted in the presence of the Chorus though as a fact they do not enter till later. It is differen; with such plays as the three versions of Electro ■ here the prologue introduces the arrival of Orestes, while the working of the p ot ma nly rests upon the ignorance of this fact on the part of Electra and her Argive friends. In fact, the „U J''f ']: '^' ^™.'°^' ^™P"' °'- 'D'»»atic Prologue- as it m.y be the Pro logue. \ •I 1 I DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY. 185 prologue will often start the story on the opposite side from Chap. IV that which IS fixed by the Chorus for the rest of the play ■ m the dialogue between Antigone and Israene we see planned a deed of devotion, which in the rest of the play will appear-viewed through the eyes of Creon and his Sen- ators—as an act of rebellion against the State. The prologue, then, gives opportunity at the commence- a„dthe ment of a play for a scene outside the standpoint of the ^'"-^^ Chorus : by another device, such a scene may occur at a ^^"''*' later place in the action. In some dramas the Chorus are made to quit the orchestra in the course of the story, and before their return an incident has taken place confined to the stage. Such a ' Stage Episode ' is clearly a scene outside the choral unity. An example occurs in the Ajax. News having arrived that the oracle makes the hero's safety depend upon his keeping his tent that day, all disperse to find their leader and bring him home; the Chorus dividing and hurrying m opposite directions to join in the search. Then (the scene having changed') Ajax himself appears alone, takes eave of life, and falls upon his sword. Soon after the Chorus re-enter, as if brought by their search to this new spot; after a brief delay, the corpse is discovered by 1 ecmessa. The whole incident of the hero's suicide has been presented directly to the audience without the inter- venmg medium of the Chorus. The significance of this particular case is small, as the discovery is so quickly made. It IS very difi-erent with the Alcestis. Here the Chorus accompany Admetus to the tomb. In their absence Her- cules, left refreshing himself in a separate wing of the palace appears on the stage, and wrings from the Steward the secret of his gloomy looks ; he learns the pious fraud put upon hin- > by his self-repressing friend, and is fired to attempt thV » Ciianges of scene in themselves only affect the unity of place- nthe^AW W^-...^ (e.g.) „o action takes place in .he abs»ee of the Chorus, and change between Delphi and Athens. r i86 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Chap. IV Prologue and Stage Episode combined in Helena. deliverance of Alcestis from death to prove himself the equal of Admetus in generosity. Accordingly, when Admetus and the Chorus return from the funeral and give themselves up to mourning and consoling, the audience hold in their hand the clue to the disentanglement of the plot which is lacking to the Chorus, and a totally new dramatic effect is thus given to the long-drawn finale, in which the recovered wife is slowly made known to her husband \ By each of these devices, the prologue and the stage episode, the audience can be admitted to a point of view from which the Chorus are excluded, so far as a single scene is concerned. In one play, the Hele?ia, the two devices are combined. It is part of the plot to bring Helen and Menelaus together. In the prologue Helen, in a long soliloquy, opens out her forlorn situation, miraculously banished to a barbarian country, while the deceived Greeks and Trojans are fighting over her supposed crime. A dialogue that follows intensifies the situation : Teucer, just landed, shows abhorrence of one who even resembles Helen, and tells the rumour that Menelaus is lost at sea. The Chorus enter, and long scenes of lamentation ensue, but at last they bid their mistress not to despair until she has certain knowledge of her lord's death, and accompany her to enquire of the prophetess. The orchestra being thus vacant, a stage episode follows. Menelaus enters, escaped from shipwreck, and in soliloquy describes his foriornness. In his case also the situation is deepened by a dialogue with the first person to whom he can apply for succour ; this Attendant tells the cruel customs of the country to slay all Greeks, and mystifies Menelaus by speaking of Helen— whom he thinks he has left by the shore -as long resident 1 Compare the Rhesus: by the Chorus > the Watch) quittingtheir post opportui^ity is given for the Greek spies to do their work ; the audience see the raid, and hear the result of Dolon's expedition, and the desicms against Rhesus, of all which the Chorus are ignorant on their return *" {^ DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY. 187 in the country. At this point Helen and the Chorus return, the mystification is soon cleared and the recognition effected. Thus, by complete parity of handling, the audience has been (without the aid of the Chorus) introduced separately into the confidence of the two personages, whose union is the first stage of the plot. The treatment differs only in degree from the modern variety of presentation. These devices, then, amount to a breach, not in the unity of the story, but only in the singleness of the stand- point from which it is viewed. We have now to see how, in the latest of the three masters, there is at all events an approach to the actual multiplication of actions. The natural expansion of the drama tended more and more to fulness of personality and incident. The natural outlet for such increase of matter is the multiplication of plots, such as in Shakespearean treatment can bring within the limits of the same play a tragedy in the family of Lear and a tragedy in the family of Gloucester, developed to- gether side by side. But thus to multiply centres of interest would, in Greek Drama, have run counter to the influence of the Chorus for unifying the sympathies of the audience. Accordingly, the tendency to multiplication of actions, barred in one direction, finds an outlet in another, and we get plot compounded by agglutination : the additional matter being, not a companion story interweaving with the main plot, but an extension of the main plot added at the end, and center- ing around the same personages and chorus. No illustration can be better than the Electra of Euripides, already analysed in this chapter. It is clear that completeness of plot would be abundantly satisfied if this play had come to an end with the recognition of brother and sister, what remained of Orestes' mission being despatched formally and the assas- sination of the tyrants being made to appear — as it does appear in the versions by Sophocles and Aeschylus — the final detail in the return of the avenger. Instead of this, Chap. IV Enc7-oach- ments on unity of story. Plot com- pounded by agglu- tination. i88 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. CH^IV. he vers,o„ of Eunpides starts a new and complex intrigue carried through four distinct scenes to an unexpected de- nouement and which of itself would suffice for L plot of a ZaTd TT' "" ^'^ "^^""S °^ Orestes and Electra a formal detail at its commencement. Here then we have Ind rt '" ' .?''' '"^''^' "'^"^'^ *° 'he same personages and Chorus, the second beginning where the first leases off Compared with the organic unity of a modern com- plex drama such agglutinated plots resemble certain lower a3ersrt""K" ''"^ ^^" ""' chopped into sections o alns H °"'"- . ""'^ "''""^^' ™P"'- '° multiplication of actions has made itself felt, but been adapted to the unifying influence of the Chorus. /I:"!./- , f ' ^'^^^ T^'-'S'^dy can go further even than this, and we "''""'' side hv T'°"'i!' u° "^^ ^''°"''^'y ^'°' that is developed side by side with the main story. There was only one way m which this could possibly have come about :-not by he 'TTT "' ' "^" ''°^ '"'° 'he play, but by a 1 lil t^evT ''""""^" '" "^^ ^-^^'^^ of d'ramatic'inte^" until they became a distinct interest in themselves. This mportant chapter of dramatic development we are able Son T '" ,T "^"-"^^^^^ ^'»S-' corresponding to Sophocles and Euripides. Chiysothemis in the £,eara of Resolution, in the ^cjnd an On "I ""'"'''' °' Complication and to its Reve sal [A^coTd n„,o r^h '''"" '' ''''^"^'^ ''^ '»'"««« for tl>is play migh ^S^c ^^^^7 " '""^^ J"*"' ''^ P'"' ''^™"'^ -eanal,siLpp1iessnbttLil.yt^a,' l^f 1^^^^^^^^^ "? been called the 'Pendulum Pint ' TM , ' '" ^^"' ^'°^^ 1-ion, after wh.h ^Z^:\ X^Hc^ ^ ^'^ 1^^ ^"' ^^^^- with the resolution • a second /^"'""^P^'^^^^d One plot is complete may be regarded as' a coZf ^ -««\«^ences with this resolution, which the'reconTpHcttt f hT ^ "t^^ t' "' T^"'^" '" '^^^ ^^^'^^ '^ stand, as resolution to th^h^^ ^ ^ £rt^;tl::^^^^ / ( DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY. 189 Sophocles, Ismene in his Antigone, do something more than Chap. IV. bring out by contrast the characters of their respective heroines : each has a little drama of her own. Chryso- ^"^siTho- themis appears at first as an element in the surroundings ^^es. hostile to heroism ; she is gradually won to an interest in Electra's hopes of retribution, returns in triumph from the sepulchre, is damped by the sad news of Orestes, and falls finally into an acquiescence in evil lower than before. So Ismene, having resisted in the prologue Antigone's bold purpose, returns repentant at the crisis and insists on shar- ing the rebel's fate. In each case there is a rise and fall of incident that attaches distinct plot interest to the younger sisters. But it is remarkable that Sophocles entirely drops these personages in the very middle of his drama : not ortly they are absent from subsequent scenes, but in all the wide spreading woe of the catastrophe there is no hint how they are affected by it. It is clear that in Sophocles there is no sense of underplot, such as would have led this great master of dramatic movement to find at least a formal connection for such centres of interest with the conclusion of the action. In Sophocles, then, the underplot is no more than an embryo : complete in in Euripides, it has developed further. In his Orestes i\iQ.£t*ripid£s. drama as a whole is a story of family affection: Pylades) appears in it to represent the allied interest of friendship.! In the similar plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles, Pylades is little more than a tacit symbol for the proverbial friendship ; in the version of Euripides he takes an active part in the ' story. It is he who comes to tell, in rhythm of excitement, the new plot to banish Orestes ; he accompanies his friend to the assembly and gives him his support. When Orestes is condemned, and all is despair, attention is diverted for a time from the main theme by the episode in which Pylades insists on sharing death, as he has shared life, with his comrade. To him is given the turning-point in the action, when out of the despair he evolves desperate counsels h. * .-# V 1 90 ANCIENT TRAGEDY, urestes ,n the incidents by which the conspiracy is carried pel:; tt "'°'""°" °' ''™ 'hroughout'these i " 3 number of speakrrascenT'^ """"'°" ""^'''"^ '"^ H,s silence speaks : sufBcient my reply. F-nally, in the Divine Intervention that sets all str.i.hf provision IS made for Pylades ;,nH h. ■ ^"/"^''"ght, for a wife F^.nf . ^f^'^eS' and he is assigned Electra Shakespeare'. "' culmination in Cou]l'er , ^° '^''' ^"y decomposition of dramatic unitv i^K.vi, undcncy have traced has been in the direction T Tl^ ^ ^'^ 'oimper. more than a single storv Nvlh "'''"« "" "" P'^^ development'^a^try'lerurro/d' "^^^ ""^ °^ with the extraneous elements of fhl T'" '"'"■'^' three devices of treatment rstietrtl^tr ' ^"' sede plot at certain points of a play. '^ '"P"'- ' Another example of Secondary Plot is that nf n, t. who plays snch an important parMnth', .' ^'''"'"" ^'^^''■a. porting into it the interest of L'm le'^h ITh '"d -' ' "''"^ '"^^' "»' a slight part in the intrigne of the ^2Ta I' t ^'^'''^ '^'* ""'X Providedforinthe Divine Intemntlon In/"/',''"' '' ^'^°S"'^^<' '"^ of Pylades is a secondary inter^tTa , ^'^^ ^''«''- "'^ ^^dship of the Oresles-, only here there's 1 Jl''-''''"'''^ P"'^"^' '° ">e cas^ Intervention, seein/that he t^; wStrEK!^ '" '"^ ^'^'- i \. DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY. 191 The first of these IS the Formal Prologue, which is not, Chap. IV. like the usual tragic prologue', a dramatic scene, but — resembles the prologue of the modern drama in being a V" , speech outside the action. Sometimes it takes the form ^X>'. Of a soliloquy by one of the personages in the play, as the famous speech of Electra = in the Orestes, in which, starting with a general meditation on human misery, she traces this misery through her mythic ancestral history down to her own desperate condition, her sole hope being in the ru- moured arrival of Menelaus. Or, as in the Suppliants and Electra, a prayer to a deity may be the form in which the situation of affairs is made known. Or again, the prologue may be spoken by a god possessed of supernatural knowledge It IS so in the Ion. Hermes starts abruptly with his own divine genealogy and his arrival at the scene of the play He proceeds to tell methojiically the whole story of the amour between Apollo and Creusa, and the subsequent history of the mortal maiden and the child up to the moment of the play opening. Having to mention that the child was exposed' by its mother, the god digresses to explain the origin of rites observed in exposure, and he digresses a second time to explain how Creusa came to marry a foreigner. He concludes with a glance at the future, in which he puts the end, though not the successive steps, of the plot. 1 he general style of such a speech, and especially Its digressions, show how entirely external it is to dramatic form ; its interest is the rhetorical interest of a formal and logical explanation, whereas the essence of drama is that events must explain themselves. As this Formal Prologue is a non-dramatic introduction, ThcMirac- so the Miraculous Close is a non-dramatic conclusion. «'«" This usually takes the form of a Divine Intervention, like "^^ ^„. ' The two are frequently combined : e. g. in Orestes &c tervention, quote^fnantSty'" "' '"^ •"'■''°" °' ^'^"''^' P''^"^ -»' '"g^'X 1 .i 192 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. or Final Oracles. \ Chap. IV. that already described in the Eledra : a god from the sky arrests the course of the story, and declares the sequel by his supernatural knowledge and will. In some plays which lack this, there is an approach to the same effect in the oracular prophecies of the future uttered at the end by the victim of the play. In the Hecuba, nemesis has come upon Polymestor in the form of blinding; similarly in the Children of Hercules, Eurystheus has been given up to those he has persecuted to be put to death. In each case the sufferer suddenly pours out oracles he has learned, painting the future destiny of those who are now triumphant over him ; these are accepted by all as revelation, and have the effect of giving a back-turn of fate at the last moment \ The point in common between this and the Divine Inter- vention is that in both cases the plot is w^ound' up by miracle : now, where miracle intervenes, dramatic interest, which rests upon the working out of cause and effect, at once ceases. For it is substituted a different interest, akin to the rhetorical and epic satisfaction that belongs to a story completely wound up ^. To these two devices— the special invention of Euripides —must be added the Messenger's Speech, the use of which he has greatly extended, and which substitutes epic narrative * An approach to the ' pendulum form of action.' 2 The Daughters of Troy— in all respects one of the most masterly and characteristic productions of Euripides— has the structural peculiar- ity that a Formal Prologue and a species of Miraculous Close are put together at the commencement of the play. Neptune's speech opens the state of affairs, the subsequent dialogue with Pallas, and the plot concerted by the two deities against the victorious Greeks, convey to the audience the idea of an ultimate back-stroke of fate outside the dramatic action and made known by supernatural machinery. The effect is to reduce the whole body of the play to a single pregnant situation : plot has been absorbed into passion, and the line of action become a point. The episodes are various phases of this situation : fates of various captives bound into a unity by Hecuba, who, as queen and mother, feels over again all that the rest feel. T/ie Mes- sengers Speech. DECOMPOSITION OF DRAMATIC UNITY. 193 for dramatic presentation in the case of one incident or Chap. IV. more of the story. The example described at length in the Electra illustrates how highly dramatic some points of such a speech can be ; for in fact drama and epic have much in common. But the Messenger's Speech may diverge very widely from the spirit of drama. This is well seen in the Ion, where the Messenger's Speech describes, to the alarmed and impatient Chorus, the attempt to poison the hero at a banquet ; not only does the narration take over a hundred lines, but one-third of the length is devoted to technically describing the proportions of the banqueting-tent, and explaining in detail the subjects represented in the tapestry. Meanwhile, with reverent heed, the son gan rear On firm supporters the wide tent, whose sides No masonry require, yet framed to exclude The mid-day sun's hot beams, or his last rays When sinking in the west : the lengthened lines Equally distant comprehend a square Of twice five thousand feet, the skilful thus Compute it, space to feast— for so he willed— All Delphi. From the treasures of the god He took the sacred tapestry, and around Hung the rich shade on which the admiring eye Gazes with fixed delight. First over head Like a broad pennon spread the extended woof, Which from the Amazonian spoils the son Of Jove, Alcides, hallowed to the god : In its bright texture interwoven a sky Gathering the stars in its ethereal round, Whilst downward to the western wave the sun His steeds declines, and to his station high Draws up the radiant flame of Hesperus. Meanwhile the Night, robed in her sable stole, Her unreined car advances: on her state The stars attend ; the Pleiads mounting high. And with his glittering sword Orion armed; Above, Arcturus to the golden pole Inclines ; full-orbed the month-dividing moon Takes her bright station, and the Hyades / V- -^ 194 Chap. IV. ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Marked by the sailor; distant in the rear Aurora, ready to illume the day And put the stars to flight. The sides were graced With various textures of th' historic woof, Barbaric arguments ; in gallant trim Against the fleet of Greece the hostile fleet Rides proudly on ; here, monstrous forms pourtrayed, Human and brutal mixed ; the Thracian steeds Are seized, the hinds and the adventurous chase Of savage lions; figured near the doors Cecrops, attended by his daughters, rolled His serpent train. All such laborious expansion of the description is clear evidence that the sense of dramatic propriety is for the time suspended, and is replaced by interest of an epic order. These three devices, the Formal Prologue, the Miraculous Close, and the Messenger's Speech, are encroachments on the unity of action, since they abstract certain portions of the story from the plot and deal with them by methods extraneous to drama. Now, as these devices are, two of them wholly and one mainly, confined to Euripides, while ing tinity in his plays they are of almost universal application, we ^three S^^' ^"^^^'^ ^^'^ Compare the three masters, three stages of masters. diminishing unity. Aeschylus produces trilogies ^ : here the dramatic unity may embrace three plays. In Sophocles, the dramatic unity is conterminous with a single play. In Euripides, the dramatic unity is less than the play, the beginning. of the story, the end, and portion of the middle being cut off by non-dramatic treatment. The three stages differ as a group, a full-length portrait, and a vignette. And after Euripides the decomposition — as a future chapter will show — is carried further still, the unity of action sinking * The term * trilogies ' applies to all the dramatists : Aeschylus alone made the three tragedies, which each competitor was expected to produce, continuous in matter. WIDENING OF CHARACTERISATION 195 Three stages of diminish- es 'ac' into a formal bond of plot, which serves as a frame to bind r together s.tuations contrived for effects which are more ofen ~ than not extraneous to drama. effS't'n t " ''"'°" '? '"""■^ ^'""^' ^'^-"^"'^ °f dramatic oaer eflect, we notice as another line of development in Ancient ''"" 'f antXl '"n""' Z'''""'' "^^'^^ ""' characterisation, IZf^' ne«2 wS; n "' ' "r""" °' '^'-'Sic story was con- 'Jfr'r sacred I enfT^^^^^ T'^' ^°°" '' ^^' '° '-'"^e all tSS sacred legend. Undei^Aeschylus the dramatic field appears "'"^^'^'f- to be confined to heroic lifer^d deities move amongTt Ws widens the fTeld to human nature, but it is human nature in the type : h>s character-sketching shows power in idealising he ype .ather than subtlety in inventing variations, ll the charactensafon of Euripides there is a strong flavour of .nd,v,duahty. Thus the Clyt^mnestra of Aeschylus is demonic: a conscious inspiration cf retributive justice g.ves d,gmty to her crimes. The Clyt.mnestL of Sophocles IS created out of the story : the wrong done to her as a mother has turned strong love into strong hate iTument Tr'°" '° ^'^'''"^ "^ ^ «°- ^^ ^ 7Z7 fv . P"'"""""" corresponding to these in the - af r..°H?"''''V^ distinguished by a strain of pettiness as an addition to the traditional character. Luxury and display seem to be her master motives : the splendour of , her car and retinue is an effect in the play, we hear of her ' " adorning herself for Aegisthus before Agamemnon did the wrong against Iphigenia, the wealth she had amassed was the attraction that brought Aegisthus to her, and his / effeminate beauty made him a fitting partner. The petti- ' ness appears again in the social degradation she contrived for her daughter, working secretly through her paramour. There ,s pettiness even in the compunction she shows at the last, seeing that this is aroused only by the offensive details of poverty she finds in her daughter's rustic home, 2 ^ ) / / \' 196 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. i Chap. IV Widening of Tofte. Especially the Mix- ture of ToneSf and that it may be cheaply indulged now her object is secured by the (supposed) birth of Electra's child. Such individuality of character belongs to the general realism of Euripides ; it extended the field of the drama to domestic life, and the degree to which the poet introduces women and children into his plays was a scandal to the critics of his age. Tragedy was brought into conflict with the mythic stories, from which its materials had still to be drawn, the attempt of a contemporary poet, Agathon, to break away from these in favour of invented personages having been resisted. Once more the developing tendency of Euripides needed the free play of modern literature to give it full scope. We may trace a similar widening of tone. The term * tragic' covers many meanings. The tone of Aeschylus is tragic of the religious order, resting upon such ideas as fate, hereditary curse, resistance to omnipotence, sanctity of the suppliant bond. Sophocles leans to tragic in the purely dramatic sense, resting upon the working out of plot: his wTiting is deeply religious, but he chooses the dramatic aspects of religion— nemesis, and oracular revela- tion. Under Euripides the tone widens to all that can be included in the word ' tragic ' ; he has a special leaning to the pathetic side of tragedy, and his treatment extends beyond this to the serious tone which is distinguished from tragic by the happy ending of the story. This appears in the Jon by natural causes; in many plays it is brought about by the Divine Intervention. But in this connection there is one piece of development worthy of special notice : the approach, under Euripides, to the modern Mixture of Tones—the union of serious and light in the same play— by which the Romantic literature of modern times has won some of its greatest triumphs. It is not correct to describe this as the union of tragedy and comedy; these were, in Greece, entirely distinct rituals. MIXTURE OF TONES. 197 But there was another dramatic species which tended to Chap, iv amalgamate with tragedy, and so favour the mixture of tones — This was the Satyric Drama. To understand the term ^ the %^, reader must carry his thoughts back to the ultimate begin-^'^" mng of tragedy in the dance of satyrs. At this period (it has n^ been remarked) 'tragi' was another name for satyrs- so that Tragedy and Satyric Drama would then be synonymous terms. Out of this Satyr dance, it has been shown in the openmg chapter, was step by step developed dramatic poetry; the old form however was not discarded, but existed side by side with the developing drama. By a process familiar to the student of etymology the two terms, which at first were identical in meaning, became in time differentiated with the differentiation of that to which they were applied: Tragedy became the name of the developing drama, while Satyric Drama was applied to the unreformed dithyramb. In process of time even this Satyric Drama began to follow in the steps of Tragedy, and adopted its form of alternating odes and episodes, while retaining the boisterous tone of the satyric dance. In historical times the two species are found side by side, the Satyric Drama using the same mythic stories as Tragedy, but treating them for burlesque. The custom was for a poet to produce three tragedies and a satyric drama, which closed the day's entertainment much in the way that modern theatres relieve serious drama with a farce at the end of the evening \ distte3"^ '''^'' '' ""^"''"^ '^'' '^"'^"'' and 'Satiric' are totally ' One of these Satyric dramas has been preserved : the Cyclops of Eunpides : it is here subjoined in outline— Scene : Sicily before the Cave of the Cyclops, Polyphemus. / Prologue by Silenus, the rural demi-god, who recounts his faithful service to Bacchus : yet the ungrateful god has allowed himself and his children to fall into this slavery to the horrid Cyclops, in which-worst of their many woes-they are debarred from the wine they worship. ■ ^j- - -J — ■,.«<» 198 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Chap. IV. Now tradition has preserved the important circumstance Akestis ^^^^ Euripides composed his Aicestis as a substitute for Parode : The Chorus of Satyrs, driving their goats, and lament- ing how different their state is from the merry service of Bacchus. Episode I : Silenus hurries back, announcing that a ship is approaching to water in the island : fresh victims for the monster. Enter Ulysses and Creiw. Mutual explanations, all couched in burlesque tone. The mariners have had no food except flesh, and gladly accept the Satyrs' milk and fruits, giving in return to Silenus the long-lost luxury of wine. The scene goes on to paint [with the utmost coarseness] the on-coming of intoxication. Suddenly enter Polyphetmis : Ulysses and the crew hide. After some rough bandying between the monster and the Chorus the strangers are discovered : and Silenus, to save himself, turns traitor, and tells Polyphemus they have beaten him because he would not let them steal, also what dire woes they were going to work upon Polyphemus. In spite of their protests, Silenus is believed. Ulysses promises, if set free, to erect shrines in Greece for the Cyclops, besides dwelling upon the impiety of attacking innocent strangers. Polyphemus replies that he does not care for shrines, and, as to impiety, he is independent of Zeus : which gives occasiori for a eulogium on the life of nature. All are driven into the cave to be fed upon at leisure. Choral Ode : General disgust at the mon=>ter. E/2sode 2 : Ulysses {apparently standing at the mouth of the cave] describes Polyphemus gorging— then details his plan of deliverance by aid of the wine. Choral Ode : Lyric delight of the Chorus at the prospect of deliverance. Episode 3 : The Cyclops appears sated with his banquet, and settling down to this new treat of drinking ; the effects of on-coming intoxication are agam painted in Polyphemus with the usual coarseness— a farcical climax being reached when the monster begins to be affectionate to his cup-bearer, old Silenus, in memory of Zeus and his Ganymede. Choral Ode : Anticipations of revenge. Exodus '. The plan of revenge is carried out— boring out the Cyclops's one eye while he is overpowered with drink. Various farcical effects by the way : e. g. the Chorus drawing back with excuses and leaving Ulysses to do the deed at the critical moment. The drama ends with the monster's rage and vain attempts to catch the culprits, Ulysses putting him off with his feigned name of * No Man.' Thus all are delivered. MIXTURE OF TONES. 199 a satyric drama. It is easy to trace such a purpose in the Chap. IV. play itself. Hercules was a favourite personage alike in tragic and in satyric plots. In tragedy he represents the human frame raised to the point of divinity, physical strength in its perfection toiling and suffering for mankind. The satyrist caught a burlesque side to such an ideal, and realised pantomimically the huge feeding necessary to keep up gigantic activity. The Hercules who was to draw together the dark and bright sides of Euripides' play must harmonise these two conceptions : it has been accomplished in one of the most inspiring creations of ancient poetry— an embodiment of conscious energy rejoicing in itself, and plunging with equal eagerness into duty and relaxation, while each lasts. The hero's entering cheer strikes like an electric shock upon the crushed mourners ; his reception is shown in the ode that follows to have introduced a current of hope into the play. In the stage episode, Hercules appears at first in the careless abandon of the reveller, and preaches to the gloomy Steward the easy ethics of the banquet ; from this bright tone he passes to the heroic as the truth gradually breaks upon him, and he is fired to a task of generous rivalry in which he will try his strength on Death himself. It will be observed that this introduction of the non-tragic tone is made at a point where the Chorus, representatives of the unity, are for the time absent. In the finale the opposites are brought together, Admetus and the Chorus knowing only the sad aspect of affairs, Hercules and the audience holding the happy clue ; and all the resources of stichomuthic elaboration are exhausted before the sadness and brightness are allowed to blend in the tumult of emotions that attend the raising of the veil. ' The play has won every age : the dramatic experiment was ^ ruled unsuccessful, and we have no knowledge that it was ever repeated. Euripides could do no more than 200 ANCIENT TRAGEDY. f r /i«^f "^/.'^^^^ «how„ development in the different element, of «^>„. Anc Trage its chorus, its unity, its tone and r^t^.' TZ , ^' '"°"^'' J"^' '° ^""de to one more line thlf r th. ^'' ' "J' '"""'■'^ '"^"^^' '^ subordinate to 7 thought the rehg,ous brooding over man and the mysteries ' creS l't:TV ''''''' '•" -'"■'--- or r supreme and the k" '°P'°'^'" ''^^'"^"'^ '"'--^ is supreme, and the very thought embodied in his nliv, i« rattiTSrr;;re':rr"^^ in Sophocles But F . """"^ P'''''^'="°"^ '>^^' ™«et to prS^ss with K- T"^'' P'^^^^ ''^>°"d P-fection Anciei TrSHntotrr:. JIT^ Tpttt?- ment remains, within its own species a H,!. T ''^'" which the historian recognises Tth '''"« ''"™^"'' for the universal dramx ' ""'"^'"^ °'^^-°'"''- end.„g often brought about by the' Dif n * i^ '" ^"'' '^'^'^Py . !'«ve'oP">ent akin to this mixture of ^^nes in TT "'« "" ^'"''^ °^ •s not surprising to find in the ///, rlJ ,1 7^ Accordingly, it progress admits a distinctly comt scle the < h ■''°'"""'' '" "= whose superstition is worked unnr K Tk . 'hoaxmg' of Thoas, isieftwa.tingsolemnly,with1vro^^ t\ IT:,!/ ^'^'^ -" ^^ escapmg from him. It is noticeable thV. fh . J ^ *"' Prisoners are is -arked by a change to ac^le "tedXtt :'''^''- '^""^^^ o^ this ruse / \ V. The Roman Revival of Trace DY I \ I 1 # V. The L-,tm tragedies ascribed to Seneca' constitute a sort Ch.p v of half-way house in the course of development between an- — - cient and modern drama : Seneca represents Ancient Classi- f"''Z cal Iragedyto the Ehzabethan age, and the plays which !:%! stand m his name are rather contributions to Greek Tragedy 'J-"" f than a species in themselves. There is the same double ' torm of lyric odes alternating with dramatic scenes The subjects of the odes are the same : they are mainly odes of situation, with occasional ritual or national hymns, and odes of narrative. The blank verse of the episodes is identical, and here is the same tendency to invade these episodes with lyric monodies and concertos where the emotion of the scene affords an opportunity. And, with one exception each Roman play is the counterpart of a Greek tragedy' the story of which it at once follows and recasts. Yet a .,« ^>. glance below the surface shows a wide gulf between Euripides ""'""''^ and Seneca. The Roman plays are clearly not intended <;:: "" tor acting, and not arranged for the stage: their motive ""« *- ' They are ten in number :-//«rafe Mac/, Hipfotytus, DauMcrs o/"'"- Troy, l,o,nen fro,n r!,.,ncia, and Medea, aU fono;ing Sy jT Oed.p.,s the K>,,g and Maide,^s of TracMs of Sophocles -^^<,«« following Aeschylus-s play-and Oetavia, a Roman subject. fte~ by mtemal evidence determined to a later date than .Seneca; and experts have, for metrical reasons, questioned whether the Hereukon oTZ ^-'nem,^n are not separate in authorship from the other seven UwUI be seen below (pages .15-7) that the three are bound together bv common pecuharities of structure and choral treatment. [I hf igLre altogether the Wo,nenfro,. Phcenicia, as in too fragmentary a condTon to be the basis of any argument.] i-onainon 204 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, Chap. V The Daugh- ters OF Troy of Euripi- des. Prologue . is rhetorical or poetic, they are dramatic only in form. Such dissociation from the stage is a disturbing force of the first magnitude ; it is as if the opera had passed into the oratorio; the non-dramatic purpose has— perhaps uncon- sciously to the poet— produced strong divergence even in dramatic form. The object of the present chapter is to describe Roman Tragedy as moulded by these opposing influences :— imitation of Greek models, which acts as a retarding force, and again the revolutionising effect produced by the substitution of literary for dramatic setting. As in previous chapters, I shall deal with this part of my subject by first describing a single play of Seneca in com- parison with its Greek counterpart, and then gather into general principles the Roman treatment of Tragedy. The Daughters of Troy appears to be the point at which the Greek stage approaches nearest to Roman conceptions of dramatic poetry. This is not the place to speak of the pathos and scenic splendour which make this play one of Euripides' greatest masterpieces; we are concerned here with the barest outline of structure and form. Uniqueness of structure characterises the prologue to the Greek version. There is first a formal prologue by Neptune : he is quitting the Troy he has been unable to save, and describes the situation— the town in ruins, and Queen Hecuba with other noble women waiting as captives to be carried away. Athene encounters him, fresh from the sacrilege done to her shrine : she announces her change of mind, and the two deities concert a scheme of vengeance on the Greeks, agreeing to raise a storm which shall destroy them on their homeward voyage. This dialogue constitutes a sort of divine interven- tion placed at the beginning and not the end of the drama ; taken in connection with the prologue, its effect is to reduce the body of the play to the expansion of a single situation, of which the origin and the issue have been determined extra- dramatically :— the line of action has become a point. The EURIPIDES DAUGHTERS OF TROY. 205 Choral odes are all celebrations of this one situation and Chap v he r :'" TTr '^^^^^" ^^^^^^ ^^ '^ centering al:' -^'• he figures of different sufferers, with Hecuba as a point of ung -- she feels over again all that her daughters 2li;rXl \ '"'' '' ' u' ''"^ " "'^^^ ^^^ -P^-- -e Scene a.u^ of TrS T" ''"^'"^"^ ^^ J*^^" ^-- The Chorus of Trojan Women enter the orchestra at her call, unite in a lyric concerto of woe, from which they pass t; an ode hey^^^^^^^^^^^ ^'r^^^ ^^ ^^^ --- --tries to which news tl r V /''^ ^''"^^ Talthybius, who brings SCdra h"'r" "' ''' ''''' ''''' ^^^^ ^^"^^^ their fate : Cassandra has been assigned to Agamemnon, Polyxena is to serve at a tomb,' Hecuba herself is the prey of Ulvsse fl 'ists^^^^^ ^"'"'^ ^' ''' ^^-- ^' -^ ^^ TslnZ '"'' ". -"temptuous silence. Then follows a splendid scene, drawing out Cassandra's part in the ItZ She enters from the tent already dressed in bridal attire, and~-in lyrics and blank verse successively-- she flings her prophetic forecasts of the tragedy in which the Greek triumph is to end, here (as always) striving vainly to taL'The"" T/^"^'^ '"' ^^^"^- T^^ ^'-- have taken their usual share in this scene : yet they make no allusion to it m the ode which follows ; they can dwell only 7 . ,^ picture the sudden capture in the dead of night , Andromache is the centre of the next episode She^.- ^ /. enters m a chanot, with the infant Astyanax at her breast '''"''' After bringing the news which explains Polyxena's * service at the tomb ' of Achilles, she enters into a strange contest n despair with the aged Hecuba. But there isLh matter for despair when the herald re-appears bearing the decree of the victors that Hector's child must be flung from the towers 2o6 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY. Chap.W ( Interlude Episode III Forensic Contest Exodus The Daugh- ters OF Troy of Seneca. No pro- logue to. No con- tinuous scene. of Troy: the mother realises her helplessness and has to purchase by quiet submission the right of sepulture for her child. Again the Chorus, though a party to the preced- ing scene, ignore it in their choral ode, which puts the fall of Troy from a different side, and describes the deified heroes of the land luxuriating with divine selfishness in the joys of heaven while their native city was sinking in ruin. The third episode gives opportunity for a forensic contest as Helen is dragged from among the captives to her fate, and, seeking to plead her cause, is answered by the Queen and Chorus. The ode which follows starts from the scenery before the eyes of the Chorus, and proceeds to thoughts of ruin and slavery, with a passing curse upon Helen author of it all. There remains an elaborate exodus. I'he mano-led corpse of the child is borne in upon the shield of Hector, and Hecuba pours over it a piteous lament, while the ceremonies of Troy's last funeral are carried through. Then the last step is taken, and Troy is set on fire : by a novel stage-contrivance, the scenery changes into a tableau of Troy burning, and amidst the crash of its fall and wild lamentations the Chorus and the nobler captives are dragged to the ships. The version of Seneca pourtrays in dramatic form the same situation. But there is a total absence of any pro- vision, such as the prologue of Euripides' version, for presenting this situation as part of a story. Another dif- ference catches the eye as we turn over the pages of the Latin version : it is not a continuous poem, but is broken up into five ' acts,' the first four concluding with choral in- terludes. AVith the transition from the stage to written literature, Tragedy has lost the unbroken presence of the Chorus from their entry to their exit : and with the loss of this has been also lost its binding effect upon dramatic unity. To this may be added that we cannot infer from the words of the Latin tragedy any definite locality or scenery, SENECA'S DAUGHTERS OF TROY, 207 but on the contrary the local suggestions in different parts of the play are inconsistent with one another. The opening of Seneca's version follows closely that of Euripides : Hecuba laments, with rhetorical fulness, the woes which she had long foreseen, and at her call the Chorus join in a regular wail — tearing their hair, beating their breasts, and mourning their lost heroes. This, as the equivalent of a choral interlude, concludes act first. The second act centres around the incident of Polyxena, but the form in which this is brought out presents great innovations. The act opens thus : Talthyhius. How long in port the Greeks still wind-bound are, When war they seek, or for their homes prepare! Cho7-us. Declare the cause which thus their fleet detains. What god it is that their return restrains. Talthyhius. Amazement strikes my soul — He goes on to relate, in high-wrought strain, the portent which he was one to witness: how, amid thunder and earthquake and bowing woods, the earth opened to the depths of night, and the spirit of Achilles emerging re- proached the Greeks with their want of faith to him, and demanded the slaughter of the Trojan princess upon his tomb ; how, thereupon, the hero shrouded himself in night, and all things returned to their stillness : — the quiet main Becalmed lies, the winds their rage restrain, The smooth seas move with gentle murmurings, And Triton thence the hymeneal sings. There is nothing to show what errand brings the Greek herald into the presence of the Chorus ^ or how he leaves * I follow the Latin text in treating this as a * Chorus Troadum.' But if we might (on the analogy of Hercules on Oeta and Agatneynnon) make the Chorus in this act a Secondary Chorus of Greeks, consistency would be secured for the whole act. In the Octavia the term 'Chorus Romanorum ' clearly covers two distinct choruse?, one the Roman Mob which sympathises with Octavia, the other the Palace Guard sympathising with Poppsea. Chap. V. Act I. Monody and Con- certo Act IL Chorus purely mechani- cal., . Chorus absent. Forensic 208 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY. Chap. V. the scene, nor does he distinctly address any one; the Chorus put to him the formal enquiry, but make no comment on the startling news when it has been given. What immediately follows constitutes a scene by itself, in which the Chorus do not take any part, and which obviously belongs to a locality different from that of the Trojan captives. It is a forensic contest between Pyrrhus and contest and Agamemnon. Pyrrhus, in a set speech, presses the demand made by his father's ghost. Agamemnon, in a corresponding rhesis, urges moderation in the hour of success. Thou, Priam, make me proud? Thou biddest me fear ! The dispute soon becomes an exchange of taunts : Pyr- rhus's murder of Priam, and Agamemnon's rash quarrels with Achilles furnishing ample material. As the pace of the scene accelerates a very characteristic feature of Seneca emerges— the disputants hurl gnomes at one another. PyrrJms. *'Tis kingly to a king life to afford.' Agafuemnon. Then why a king did you deprive of breath ? PyrrJms. * There's mercy sometimes shown in giving death.' Agamemnon. So you'd in mercy sacrifice a maid? Pyrrhus. And such a sacrifice can you dissuade Who offer'd your own child? Agamemnon. « Their kingdom's good Kings should prefer before their children's blood.' Pyrrhus. Forbid a captive's death no law e'er did. Agafuemnon. *\Vhat the law does not is by shame forbid.' Pyrrhus. * What likes, is lawful by all victors thought.' Agamemnon. *Tbe more your license, to will less you ought.' Personalities proceed to the extent of calling Pyrrhus a girl's bastard, brat Got by Achilles when scarce man ! Pyrrhus. By that Achilles, who, to the whole world allied, Enjoys the honours of the deified ; Who can a claim to Sea by Thetis move. To Hell by Aeacus, to Heaven by Jove — Agamemnon. Yes, he who fell by Paris' feeble hand— use of gnomes. 1 SENECA'S DAUGHTERS OF TROY, Pyrrhus. Whom yet not any of the gods durst stand In open fight — Agamemnon. Sir, I could rule your tongue— 209 Chap. V. The ruler of the host saves his dignity by referring the dispute to the seer, and Calchas pronounces the will of heaven to be the slaughter of Polyxena and the death of the infant Astyanax. This closes the scene. The choral interlude vfhich Interlude. succeeds illustrates the furthest point to which odes can reach in the direction of irrelevancy. The early part of the act has narrated the apparition of a departed spirit : the theme of this ode is a blank denial that there is anything after death— a theme dissociated equally from the scene and the speakers. Is it a truth— or fiction blinds Our fearful minds — That when to earth we bodies give Souls yet do live ? That, when the wife has closed with cries The husband's eyes, When the last fatal day of light Has spoiled our sight. And when to dust and ashes turned Our bones are urned, Souls yet stand in no need at all Of funeral, But that a longer life with pain They still retain? Or die we quite, nor aught we have Survives the grave, ■ When, like to smoke lost in the sky, Our spirits fly, And funeral tapers are applied To the naked side ? What the sun rising doth disclose, Or setting shows, Whate'er the sea with flowing waves Or ebbing laves, Old Time, that moves with winged pace Doth soon deface. / 2IO THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY. SENECA'S DAUGHTERS OF TROY, 211 Chap. V. With the same swiftness the Signs roll Round, round the pole ; With the same course Day's Ruler steers The fleeting years ; With the same speed the oblique-paced Moon Doth wheeling run : W^e are all hurried to our fates, Our lives' last dates, And when we reach the Stygian shore Are then no more. As smoke, which springs from fire, is soon Dispersed and gone. Or clouds, which we but now beheld, By winds dispelled: The Spirit which informs this clay So fleets away. Nothing is after Death : and this. Too, nothing is ; The goal or the extremest space Of a swift race. The covetous their hopes forbear. The sad their fear : Ask'st thou, whene'er thou com'st to die Where thou shalt lie?— Where lie the unborn. Away Time rakes us, Then Chaos takes us. Death, not divided, comes one whole To body and soul. Whate'er of Taenarus they sing, And Hell's fierce king. How Cerberus still guards the port O' the Stygian court — , All are but idle rumours found, And empty sound, "* Like the vain fears of melancholy, Dreams, and invented folly. Act in. The third act is devoted to Andromache and her child. The Chorus take no part in it until the final interlude, and Siibstitu- their absence is the more remarkable as an ' Aged Person ' Cmfidani ^^ i^^P^rted to serve the function proper to a chorus— that for Chorus. o( the Confidant who draws out a disclosure. To this Aged Person Andromache relates a dream in which Hector appeared to warn her of th** ^hild's danger. This incident Chap. V. is told with all the conventional setting of classical ^^^^^^^ dreams. conven- 4 ' 7 * -J Two parts of quiet night were almost spent, And now the seven Triones had wheeled round Their glittering train, when rest, a stranger found To my afflicted thoughts, in a short sleep Upon my wearied eyes did gently creep. There is not the slightest attempt to adapt the incident to the character of the night just past, which witnessed the sack of Troy. The dialogue ends by Andromache's se- lecting Hector's tomb as the hiding place for the boy. Ulysses then enters, charged with the mission of securing Dramatic 1 1 • ifttcrcst Astyanax, and the scene is given up to the dramatic ^ ^^.^^^.^^^^^ interest of dissimulation. Ulysses puts his painful de- lation. mand with his proverbial eloquence, against which the mother is proof. Ulysses changes his tone, and threatens her with death. Andromache. No, Ithacus ! if me thou'dst terrify Threaten me life! He tries sympathy: he would give way to her woe, but he has his own son and all the sons of the Greeks to consider, to whom it may be ruin to let the son of Hector grow up an avenger. Andromache repays dissimulation with dissimula- tion, and affects to be so far overcome as to acknowledge to her foes that the young hope of her nation is — dead ! For a moment Ulysses is deceived by joy, but soon becomes suspicious, and says he will sift the news. Feigning a search, he suddenly cries out that he has discovered the boy— marking at the moment Andromache's instinctive glance in the direction of Hector's tomb. With this as a clue, he announces to Andromache that there is an alternative offered by Calchas— that the ashes of Hector shall be scattered to the winds : and he orders the tomb to be opened. Distracted by conflicting emotions, Andro- P 2 r-j / 7 Chap. V. 1 2IO THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY. With the same swiftness the Signs roll Round, round the pole ; With the same course Day's Ruler steers The fleeting years ; With the same speed the oblique-paced Moon Doth wheeling run : We are all hurried to our fates, Our lives' last dates. And when we reach the Stygian shore Are then no more. As smoke, which springs from fire, is soon Dispersed and gone, Or clouds, which we but now beheld, By winds dispelled: The Spirit which informs this clay So fleets away. Nothing is after Death: and this, Too, nothing is : The goal or the extremest space Of a swift race. The covetous their hopes forbear, The sad their fear : Ask'st thou, whene'er thou com'st to die Where thou shalt lie? — Where lie the unborn. Away Time rakes us, Then Chaos takes us. Death, not divided, comes one whole To body and soul. Whate'er of Tsenarus they sing. And Hell's fierce king. How Cerberus still guards the port O' the Stygian court — All are but idle rumours found, And empty sound. Like the vain fears of melancholy, Dreams, and invented folly. The third act is devoted to Andromache and her child. The Chorus take no part in it until the final interlude, and Substitu- their absence is the more remarkable as an ' Aged Person ' tionof is imported to serve the function proper to a chorus— that Confidant r r for Chorus. 01 the confidant who draws out a disclosure. To this Aged Person Andromache relates a dream in which Hector SENECA'S DAUGHTERS OF TROY, 211 Ac( III. / Narration conven- tiotialised. appeared to warn her of the child's danger. This incident Chap. V is told with all the conventional setting of classical dreams. Two parts of quiet night were almost spent, And now the seven Triones had wheeled round Their glittering train, when rest, a stranger found To my afflicted thoughts, in a short sleep Upon my wearied eyes did gently creep. There is not the slightest attempt to adapt the incident to the character of the night just past, which witnessed the sack of Troy. The dialogue ends by Andromache's se- lecting Hector's tomb as the hiding place for the boy. Ulysses then enters, charged with the mission of securing Dramatic Astyanax, and the scene is given up to the dramatic ^ J^^^^^^^^ interest of dissimulation. Ulysses puts his painful de- lation. mand with his proverbial eloquence, against which the mother is proof. Ulysses changes his tone, and threatens her with death. Andromache. No, Ithacus ! if me thou'dst terrify Threaten me life! He tries sympathy : he would give way to her woe, but he has his own son and all the sons of the Greeks to consider, to whom it may be ruin to let the son of Hector grow up an avenger. Andromache repays dissimulation with dissimula- tion, and affects to be so far overcome as to acknowledge to her foes that the young hope of her nation is — dead ! For a moment Ulysses is deceived by joy, but soon becomes suspicious, and says he will sift the news. Feigning a search, he suddenly cries out that he has discovered the boy— marking at the moment Andromache's instinctive glance in the direction of Hector's tomb. With this as a clue, he announces to Andromache that there is an alternative offered by Calchas— that the ashes of Hector shall be scattered to the winds : and he orders the tomb to be opened. Distracted by conflicting emotions, Andro- p 2 T-. Act IV. Forensic Contest. 212 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, Chap. V. mache at length resolves to prevent this sacrilege to her husband's sepulchre, and submits with lamentations and taunts to the sacrifice of her child. Ulysses seeks to put the blame of the sacrifice on Calchas, but Andromache turns upon him as a * night soldier,' only stout enough by day to kill an infant. Then, with mourning long drawn out, the parting is effected. Position of In the ode that follows, the Chorus give themselves MzjX/"' up to questionings touching the lands into which cap- tivity may lead them ; they make no allusion to the matter of the act, unless it be an allusion to describe as their greatest dread the Ithaca in which Ulysses dwells. In the fourth act Helen comes, charged with the mission of enticing Polyxena, without her knowing it, to her fate : Helen quiets her conscience with the thought that such deception will soften the cruel experience. She announces a project of marriage for Polyxena and Pyrrhus : but this is received by the Trojan women as an augmentation and not an alleviation of their calamities, and a bitter forensic contest ensues. Moreover, the honesty of her message is doubted : For this from our woes' sum may well be spared — To be deceived! To die we*re all prepared. Then Helen admits the cruel project, and Polyxena becomes transformed by the news : heavy at the announcement of marriage she triumphs in the prospect of death. But all these emotions of hers are depicted in dumb show only, and it is in dumb show that Pyrrhus enters and — amid the taunts of Hecuba — drags away his victim : so devoted is the scene to exchange of speeches and not to dramatic action. Helen also announces the lots which assign the Chorus in captives to their respective masters. Then the Chorus — who have taken no part in the scene— perform an ode in which they work out the thought that society in suffering is Dumb show or action con- vention- alised. Act IV. DEVELOPMENT OF ROMAN TRAGEDY, 213 a consolation. The conclusion of this ode recalls the closing chap V portions of Euripides' drama. '- But these sad meetings, these our mutual tears Spent to deplore our miserable state, The fleet, which ready now to sail appears, Will straight dissolve and dissipate. Soon as the trumpet's hasty sound shall call The mariners a-board, and all With favouring gales and oars for sea shall stand, When from our sight shall fly our dear loved land : What fears will then our wretched thoughts surprise To see the land to sink, the sea to rise! When Ida's towering height Shall vanish from our sight, The child shall then unto its mother say, The mother to the child, pointing that way Which tends unto the Phrygian coast : *Lo, yonder 's Ilium, where you spy ' These clouds of smoke to scale the sky ' ! By this sad sign, when all marks else are lost, Trojans their country shall descry! This is the last word of the Chorus : they have no ^^^ ^• place in the fifth act, in which a Messenger relates, with ^f^'lf' elaboration, to Hecuba and Andromache the double mar- '^ Chorus. tyrdom of the child and of Polyxena at the tomb. Hecuba speaks her final words of mourning and the Messenger orders all the captives on board the ships. So the play ends. Turning to review the development of Roman Tragedy as a whole, the first feature which strikes us is the dedramatis- ation of the Chorus. So far as choral odes are concerned, it is true, the connexion of these with the story is not less than in Euripides. But in the episodes the Roman Chorus appears to have lost most of its position as a minor personage in the play. Even before the conclusion of Greek drama, a tendency was perceptible for the choral function in the scenes to become more mechanical. But mechanical General Develop- ?nent of Roman Tragedy. Dedrama- tisation of the Chorus: in episodes ^ i 214 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, Chap^V. business— announcing new-comers, questioning messengers —constitutes the sole activity of the Chorus in Seneca's episodes. Even their passive presence is no longer as- sumed. The parode is seldom distinctly provided for in the Latin plays, and only two contain an exit-song. In the Hercules Mad the Chorus do not speak once outside the odes. In the very scenes in which they have mechanical functions they can be none the less ignored by the person- ages of the scenes : thus in the final act of the Oedipus the Chorus draw attention to all the entrances of persons or the other incidents which distinguish the different phases of this elaborate scene, yet no one addresses them or notices their words \ We have seen in the Daughters of Troy how they can be demonstrably absent from particular scenes. And at times they appear not only to be ignored, but to be positively ignorant of what has happened in the course of the drama, as may be seen in the Thyestes, where the Chorus conclude act second with an ode celebrating the union of the two brothers, which the scene immediately preceding has commenced to destroy. Such treatment would suggest that the Chorus was as much outside the action as" the chorales of a modern oratorio. But this is not the case The odes of the Chorus are at times introduced by speakers in the scenes; as where Medea hears with anguish the epithalammm which doses the first act, or Theseus (in Hercules Mad) prepares for one of the odes by his de- scription of a joyous multitude coming, laurel-crowned, to sing the triumphs of the hero. Again, the Chorus regularly retain a characterisation consistent with the plot ^ Yet there is a certain unreality in their attitude to the story Thus the Chorus in Hercules on Oeta address an ode of \ ^t"'"^'" "^^^^^ °^^^^ ^" \^roxxg\i the Hippolyius. in th. h ^i^^'^y'''{ f ^°^^ t« be an exception : the Chorus is described in odes \k) \ DEVELOPMENT OF ROMAN TRAGEDY, 215 loyalty to their Queen Deianeira, though it is only at the Chap. V. conclusion of the ode that the Queen enters, and then in a state of distraction ; similarly an ode in the Thyestes appears to describe as a visible scene the convulsion of all nature, which was an element in that legend, though the scene which follows is needed to complete the crime at which that convulsion of nature expressed horror. All this equivocal position of the Chorus as between recognition and ignoring would be possible only in a drama not designed for acting. It is a transition stage of development, in which the Chorus is fast passing into an interlude external to the action, but has immanent in it still enough of its old func- tion for this to be recalled at will \ In Greek Tragedy the instability of the chorus appeared Increased not only in its dedramatisation, but elsewhere in an opposite ^^^'/^<}tic tendency towards increased dramatic activity and the position ThTs/cond- of an actor. The counterpart of this in Roman Tragedy ^^^y^^horus. may be seen in the rise of the Secondary Choruses which distinguish one group of plays. The process of change, however, seems to have been different : it is not that the regular Chorus have passed into actors, but that a body of actors has gradually absorbed choral functions. The Secondary Choruses of the Greek stage— such as those per- forming the ritual hymn at the close of Aeschylus's trilogy, or the hunting song in Hippolytus—di^^x from an actor only in their numbers : in the Latin plays they always serve a further purpose. The simplest case is that of the Hercules on Oeta, where— in addition to the regular Chorus of Dei- aneira's subjects, a band of Oechalian captives is brought 1 The extent to which an ode may be an interlude is well shown in the Hercules Mad. Amphitryon, at the close of Act II, hears the rumbling of the earth which proclaims Hercules' return from Hell. At the commencement of Act III he enters. Between comes an ela- borate ode, in which the hero is celebrated as if still engaged in his terrible mission. • 2l6 THE ROMA^r REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, i \\ with lole their princess, they bewail their fate and sing the ■rresistibihty of Hercules. These are technically 'protatic 1 ' « ?f k'' ."''^ P""''"S *^ entanglement of the plot. But for the single scene in which they are before us ey are a substitute for the other Chorus, an/their con r " serves as the interlude needed to conclude the first act Similarly .„ the third act of the Asa,ne„,non there is a band of Trojan captives, headed by Cassandra, who form a part of tions orr' ?"f • ^"' '""''^ P^^^°™ 'h^ f"'' f-c an ode of u"". ''' "'' '" "''■'='' "^^^ ^PP^^ 'hey sing thoult ° f T' "''y ^'' ^^^^"^'^ by Cassandra t^ thoughts of present horror, throughout her vision their blank ve se brings out the inspired motions of the prophetess then -this concerto having taken the place of an interlude-thev mechanically introduce Agamemnon to open the fourth acT and appear no more. Such Secondaty Choruses becor^e .mportant from their bearing on another phase of devZ ^^^ rL 11^'T'k" 'r ''^^"^'^°^^-" '"-eariii c rpS; Mn, im. 7^^the mam unity bond, which limited the ancient drama ,a.r., to single stones and the exhibition of these from sing" po nt . of view ; more stories in a play, or the presentation of one from more than one side, would (it has been argued) hale involved to a Greek mind more choruses Th" 7' T Roman Tragedy to be actually th case J thV't f '" just described we are taken iLo J; mp^ f Th^ I uished on ly by the aici of special choruses Sf oLhalLnsInd ot irojans. And this comes out still more clearlv in first act It laments the degeneracv nf fh» , . ' ^ <: uegeneracy of the people that suffers DEVELOPMENT OF ROMAN TRAGEDY. 217 such tyrannical oppression as it describes, in another act it r„.P v hlTnfaftre'f "^ iT"^ '''- showing sym^^lt '-" Jier and at the close of the play it attends the fallen queen on herstartfor her place of exile, its exit-song being apr'er for her prosperous voyage ■. But the Chorus in act fourth I Plamly the Palace Guard, who are on the side of the favo" ^^ elr'Tea;; t -'"''7''' '''''' '" '^'^^^^ ^'^ am s-' senger learn the rising of the mob, and then resume their ode o prophesy the uselessness of arms in contest with lov iev^ped bef t" f ''^ ''"'' '^^^ •'-° -P-^eTy developed before us by the full machinery of choruses and actors proper to each, and in this way the classic nty of action has been broken down ' ^ iniSieTrthf '' -^V"''' '■" "'^ °'^" "^y *he limitations ■nipiied in the unity of action. It maybe added that the encroachments which Greek Tragedy mLe upon the ui^i^e c^uld w thT""''' '■" *^ ^^'■" P'^y^- ^ Greek drama could withdraw particular scenes from the cognisance of the in r;::^'? ■■- '^^ r'°^^' '^ ^p-^^' --^- Ixh bited to , " ''"'""'^ '''"'^''''' "f Troy has from rcho"' Tl"™"'"^ necessarily at a distance ^^^i:^;:^^ no suggestion of any attempt possible only i„ a S^aV^lldTTctr't:: suggests how, with the loss of a visible chorus, the ^^'ity "f a second Plot being^td ;; atntlu^tS^Z:^; ^^ ^ of this IS found in the Bera^/es on Oeta. This follows the no oSrLr::t:i*;:;: r tif r '?r • '° ^^^ " = - has been lost. ^ Tragedy, I suspect something chorar.y.„ithf:x.iseit7r:;tor;:^^'""^^'^' *'"' ''™"^'"- / 2l8 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, \ Chap. V. Maidens of Trachis up to the point where explanation is made to the dying hero of the motive which prompted his wife's fatal act. In Sophocles this is the final note in the drama : what follows amounts to an acquiescence by Her- cules in his fate. But the Latin play makes this a new turning-point from which the whole action becomes reversed. The reception of the news is preceded by a vision resembling a prologue, in which Hercules beholds the heavenly beings who have so long excluded him from their ranks unbending to attitudes of welcome. In the story told him, he recognises the oracular foundation of his destiny. The train of action then initiated by his directions involves the suffering and triumph of which the interchange is the essence of plot ; a new personage, Philoctetes, is imported to carry out these directions, and successive lyrical and dramatic scenes embody the events that follow. Even while he is being lamented as dead, Hercules appears in glory from heaven, and the exit- song of the Chorus makes it clear that the Roman play has added an apotheosis to the tragedy of the Greek version. Roman But in Greek drama unity could be invaded in a direction favmrabk ^^^ Opposite of multiplicity, and a tendency was observable, ^fJrfS^' ^^P^^^^l^y under Euripides, towards imperfect dramatic unity, when the external influences of rhetoric and epic served to withdraw one section after another of the action from dra- matic treatment, and produced such effects as the formal prologue, the divine intervention, the forensic contest, and the messenger's speech. Such a tendency would be greatly favoured by the conditions of Latin literature, when the support which a stage would give to the dramatic element had been lost, and rhetoric had become the master passion of the age. Accordingly, in Roman Tragedy extraneous influences have triumphed over dramatic spirit, and the decomposition of dramatic unity has become disintegra- tion; the component elements of Greek Tragedy— dra- matic, lyric, epic, rhetoric— are in Roman Tragedy developed feci dra matic unity I'l f 4 ROMAN TRAGEDY DOMINATED BY RHETORIC, 219 separately, animating separate scenes, while the movement Chap. V. of the story is scarcely more than a formal frame which . connects these scenes together. No play will illustrate this gration of better than the Daughters of Troy. The sense of story, ^^^S^^y exceptionally small in the version of Euripides, has in the compomnt version of Seneca vanished altogether as an interest in the ^^^'"^*^^^- poem. What story there is hnks together scenes, one of \ which is devoted to the dramatic interest of dissimulation, another is a lyric meditation on death untouched by dramatic surroundings ; one is an epic description, another is a rhetorical picture of a ghost incident which scarcely affects to be in dialogue, and others have the interest of forensic pleadings. It is the extraneous interest of rhetoric that is the dom- Rhetoric inant force in Roman Tragedy : rhetoric leavens every part ^^^^ domin- ° "' . ^'^^ tnter- of it, and constitutes its main literary strength. Epic est of narrative lends itself readily to rhetorical ornament, and ^^^'^'^ ^ ' Tragedy : the messenger's speeches in Seneca do not differ materially from those of Euripides. Rhetoric has a natural place in forensic contests, and if these scenes have any distinctive- /^^t?««v ness in the Latin plays it is the greater degree of conven- '^°*^ ^^^^' tionality which they admit. An example may be taken from the Hippolytus. The situation is dramatic enough, where the Nurse seeks to win Hippolytus to her mistress's corrupt will ; and later on the incident becomes the main dramatic scene of the play. But the first encounter of the Nurse and Hippolytus is treated forensically. The tempta- tion is put in the form of a set speech (of fifty lines;, advocating a life of natural pleasure and family joys, without which all the beauty of the world would decay. No ships will sails on empty seas display, Skies will want birds, woods will want game to kill. And nought but wind will air's vast region fill. The temptation is met by a still more elaborate eulogium 1/ IV^ 2l8 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, Chap. V. Maidens of Trachis up to the point where explanation is made to the dying hero of the motive which prompted his wife's fatal act. In Sophocles this is the final note in the drama : what follows amounts to an acquiescence by Her- cules in his fate. But the Latin play makes this a new turning-point from which the whole action becomes reversed. The reception of the news is preceded by a vision resembling a prologue, in which Hercules beholds the heavenly beings who have so long excluded him from their ranks unbending to attitudes of welcome. In the story told him, he recognises the oracular foundation of his destiny. The train of action then initiated by his directions involves the suffering and triumph of which the interchange is the essence of plot ; a new personage, Philoctetes, is imported to carry out these directions, and successive lyrical and dramatic scenes embody the events that follow. Even while he is being lamented as dead, Hercules appears in glory from heaven, and the exit- song of the Chorus makes it clear that the Roman play has added an apotheosis to the tragedy of the Greek version. T-r^'S ^^^ ^" Greek drama unity could be invaded in a direction fivmirable *^^ Opposite of multiplicity, and a tendency was observable, to imper- especially under Euripides, towards imperfect dramatic unity, when the external influences of rhetoric and epic served to withdraw one section after another of the action from dra- matic treatment, and produced such effects as the formal prologue, the divine intervention, the forensic contest, and the messenger's speech. Such a tendency would be greatly favoured by the conditions of Latin literature, when the support which a stage would give to the dramatic element had been lost, and rhetoric had become the master passion of the age. Accordingly, in Roman Tragedy extraneous influences have triumphed over dramatic spirit, and the decomposition of dramatic unity has become disintegra- tion; the component elements of Greek Tragedy— dra- matic, lyric, epic, rhetoric— are in Roman Tragedy developed feet dra matic unity. !' f ROMAN TRAGEDY DOMINATED BY RHETORIC. 219 separately, animating separate scenes, while the movement Chap. V. of the story is scarcely more than a formal frame which . connects these scenes together. No play will illustrate this gration of better than the Daughters of Troy, The sense of story, Tragedy exceptionally small in the version of Euripides, has in the component version of Seneca vanished altogether as an interest in the ^^^'''<''^^^- poem. What story there is links together scenes, one of which is devoted to the dramatic interest of dissimulation, another is a lyric meditation on death untouched by dramatic surroundings ; one is an epic description, another is a rhetorical picture of a ghost incident which scarcely affects to be in dialogue, and others have the interest of forensic pleadings. It is the extraneous interest of rhetoric that is the dom- Rhetoric inant force in Roman Tragedy : rhetoric leavens every part ^^^^ dormn- ° ■' . ^^t inter- of it, and constitutes its main literary strength. Epic est of narrative lends itself readily to rhetorical ornament, and ^^^^^ ^ ' Tragedy : the messenger's speeches in Seneca do not differ materially from those of Euripides. Rhetoric has a natural place in forensic contests, and if these scenes have any distinctive- /^rt?w«v ness in the Latin plays it is the greater degree of conven- ^^^^^^^^' tionality which they admit. An example may be taken from the Hippolytus. The situation is dramatic enough, where the Nurse seeks to win Hippolytus to her mistress's corrupt will ; and later on the incident becomes the main dramatic scene of the play. But the first encounter of the Nurse and Hippolytus is treated forensically. The tempta- tion is put in the form of a set speech (of fifty lines;, advocating a life of natural pleasure and family joys, without which all the beauty of the world would decay. No ships will sails on empty seas display, Skies will want birds, woods will want game to kill. And nought but wind will air's vast region fill. The temptation is met by a still more elaborate eulogium 220 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY. R OMAN TRA GED V DO MI N A TED B Y RHE TORIC, 2 2 1 i Chap. V. (nearly a hundred lines in length) on the higher natural life of the wood-ranging votary of Diana. He harmless wandering in the open air The solitary country's sweets doth share ; No cunning subtleties nor craft he knows But to entrap wild beasts. And when he grows Weary with toil, his tired limbs he laves In cool Ilissus' pure refreshing waves ; Now by the banks of swift Alpheus strays, And the thick coverts of the woods surveys Where Lema's streams with chilling waters pass. Clear and pellucid as transparent glass. His seat oft changes : from their warbling throats The querulous birds here strain a thousand notes, Whilst through the leaves the whispering zephyr blows,. And wags the aged beeches' spreading boughs; There by the current of some silver spring Upon a turf behold him slumbering, Whilst the licentious stream through new-sprung flowers With pleasing murmurs its sweet water pours. Red-sided apples, falling from the trees, And strawberries, new gathered, do appease His hunger with soon purchased food, who flies The abhorred excess of princely luxuries. dramatic action a The influence of rhetoric is more decisive in cases where veil for what is nominally a dramatic dialogue is made a medium dtscri^tiL ^" ^^^^^ ^ rhetorical picture is painted. The opening of ' the Hippolytus is in reality an elaborate description of hunting scenes thrown into the imperative mood and voca- tive case. Go — you the shady woods beset. You tall Cecropius' summits beat With nimble feet ; those plains some try Which under stony Fames lie, And where the flood borne with swift waves Headlong, Thriasian valleys laves. Climb you those lofty hills still white With cold Rhipaean snows : their flight Some others take where stands the grove, With spreading alders interwove, f Chap. V. i \\ Where lie the fields which the Spring's sire, The fostering Zephyr, doth inspire With balmy breath, when to appear He calls the vernal flowers, and where, Meander-like, 'bove Agra's plains Through pebbles calm Ilissus strains His course, whose hungry waters eat Away his barren banks. Under the same form of addressing his comrades and praying to his divine patroness, Hippolytus depicts every phase of the hunt, from the hounds held in slack line or straining their necks bare with the leash while the wound- marked boar is yet unroused, to the joyous home-coming — whilst the wain's back Does with the loaded quarry crack. And every hound up to the eyes In blood his greedy snout bedyes. A curious illustration in the Oedipus must not be passed over. Sacrifice is offered upon the stage, but the blindness of the seer, Teiresias, obliges him to make use of his attend- ant's eyes to describe the result : how the flame will neither rise direct to heaven nor fall back indecisive over the altar, but wavers in all the shifting colours of the rainbow, until it finally is cloven in two, while — terrible to relate — the wine becomes mingled with blood, and a dense column of smoke bends off to envelope the head of Oedipus, who stands by. The absorption of drama by rhetoric can go no further than such utilisation of dialogue to translate visible action into rhetorical description. In this connexion it is proper to notice the prologues as prologues. a marked feature of Seneca's plays : these exhibit the full power of rhetoric in a situation specially adapted to it. In one tragedy Juno appears as the outraged wife, seeking earth in disgust at heaven, which the bastard Hercules is doomed to enter in spite of her opposition ; reviewing how all her efforts to destroy him have fed his triumphs, she brings out K ) I 222 THE ROMAN REVIVAL OF TRAGEDY, K lb ac, vei rhe, desci 1 Chap. V. the past of the story, and then casting about for fresh devices she arrives gradually at the climax of fiendish vengeance which is to be the burden of the play. In another play the Ghost of Tantalus, first founder of the family of which Thyestes is now chief, is driven on to the scene by the Fury Megsera, and forced by secret pangs to breathe on the household of his descendants fresh pollution — a tangle of violence and suffering enough to disturb heaven itself — until he cries to return to the tortures of hell. In the Agamemnon it is the turn of Thyestes to come as a disembodied spirit, fugitive from the powers of hell and seeing mortals fugitives from his ghastly presence : he visits the home he helped to pollute in order to watch the new woe, when his proud successor, king of kings and chief of myriad chiefs, shall return in triumph only that he may offer his throat to the axe of his wife. Other aspects of Greek dramatic development, such as the widening of field and characterisation and tone, will hardly be expected in the Roman plays, which are on the face of them imitations. There is even a going back : the approach made by Euripides to the mixture of serious and comic finds no favour with the severe Roman tragedians. To sum up our results. Looked at in the light of the universal drama, the chief interest of Roman Tragedy is the equivocal position given to its chorus by dissociation from acted performance, which prepared the way for that loss of the lyric element which makes the great distinction between ancient and modern drama. Viewed in themselves, the distinguishing feature of Seneca's plays is the degree to which they show extraneous influences triumphing over dramatic, until Tragedy is little more than a dramatic form given to a combination of scenes, epic, lyric and dramatic, all strongly leavened by rhetoric Summary. f V M ( VI. Shakespeare's ' Macbeth ' arranged as an Ancient Tragedy. t */ \ VI. Ancient Tragedy has now been surveyed in the light of Chap. VI. the development which connects it with the drama of „ T7~. modern times: it would seem a not inappropriate conclu- toZ^/a/f' sion to present our results in a concrete shape, and essay ' ^^f^^^'^^' ' the problem of recasting a modern tragedy in the form that anaem would adapt it to the ancient stage. Shakespeare's Macbeth '^^S^' naturally suggests itself as the play approaching nearest to the spirit of antiquity ; its action rests upon the same oracular mysteries which the Attic tragedians loved, and the same spirit of irony underlies the movement of its story. The purpose then of the present chapter will be to arrange Macbeth as a Greek tragedy; my aim will be to introduce as much as possible of what was normal in ancient drama, while exceptional peculiarities or features of advanced development will be avoided. Broadly viewed there are two fundamental differences of Lyric form which distinguish ancient from modern drama. The '''ff Ti'' ^'' a , ' ■, , . collected first IS the lyric element. While a Shakespearean play//w« a// appears throughout as pure drama, an ancient tragedy is on ^fj^^, the face of it double : combining drama and lyric, stage speares and orchestra, actors and chorus, speeches delivered in ^^'^-^• blank verse and odes executed in dancing. Accordingly our adapted Macbeth must take shape as an alternation of scenes and odes, the whole bound together by the Chorus — not, as in oratorio, a band of external performers, but per- sonages taking a slight part in the story, to whose constant presence all the scenes have to be fitted, and whose odes I I 226 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Chap. VI. supple- mented by Classic and Scripture allusions. Adapta- tion to the unities. between the scenes at once break up the tragedy into sec- tions and make it a continuous poem. The amount of adaptation required is, however, not so great as might have been expected. There is in reality as much lyric matter in Macbeth as in a Greek tragedy : the difference is that in Shakespeare it is seen in outbursts or isolated phrases spread over a vast number of dramatic speeches, in a Greek play it would be concentrated in a few odes or concertos. If such an illustration might be allowed, Elizabethan tragedy is moist and undrained land, no part of which is water and no part entirely dry ; an ancient drama would represent the difference made by irrigation, when the same amount of liquid has been brought into fixed channels and reservoirs. A main part then of our task of recasting will be to gather lyric thought and expressions from all over Shakespeare's poem and dispose them in regular odes and stage lyrics. Such choral matter may be reinforced by allusions to classic myths and Scripture stories, — the natural sources of devout thought to a Scottish Chorus in its wandering meditation upon the vicissitudes of human life. A second essential difference of structure between ancient and modern drama is connected with the unities. Here the Elizabethan and Attic stages are at opposite extremes of dramatic development : the former loves to crowd into a play multiplicity of matter and interest, the latter sees beauty in rigorously excluding and reducing to singleness. Recasting in this case will mean leaving out. Our new Macbeth must fit in with unity of story, interest centering upon only one hero. Shakespeare's play gives us a com- panion story — a Scottish warrior and statesman, Macbeth's only rival, rising to fame in the same war as Macbeth, exposed to the same temptation, who stood where Macbeth fell : the contrast of the two brings out the character of the principal hero at every turn. In the adapted version how- ever the story of Banquo must disappear, and every trace of i \.\ ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. 227 him must be excised. Another contrast adds interest to Chap VI the English play— that between Macbeth and his wife Even in a Greek tragedy it would be natural to introduce such a personage, but she would be so treated as never to appear an interest distinct from her husband. The old conception of unity, we have seen, went further. The single story must be told from a single point of view : oppo- site confidences being impossible where the whole has to be seen through the eyes of a chorus attached to the hero. This affects our treatment of Macduff. He is essen- tial to the story as the heaven-sent adversary of the hero • but it will be impracticable to represent him, as Shakespeare does, m close confidence with his ally Malcolm, and he must appear only as such an adversary would appear to the hero's clansmen who will form our chorus. Once more, ancient unity extended to the scene : only the crisis of the story was presented on the stage— such an amount of inci- dent as would fit in with a single unbroken scene all external to this being made known by other than dramatic means. The natural scene for our version will be the courtyard of Macbeth's castle, and the portion of the story selected for acting will correspond roughly with Shake- speare's fifth act. Previous incidents of importance-such as the meeting with the Witches, the murder of Duncan the massacre of Macduff s family-must be told in the choral odes, or otherwise indirectly introduced. The permanent scene will, as already suggested, stand for Prologue Dunsinane castle : the arrangement of stage and orchestra has been sufficiently indicated in previous chapters. Our prologue we find ready made : the speech of Hecate in the third act has only to be changed into a soliloquy and makes a perfect Euripidean prologue. She would begin : I am Hecate, and I rule over the Witches of Hell. She would tell how she is angry with her servants who have been trading with Macbeth in riddles and affairs of death-— Q 2 228 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Chap. VI. While I, the mistress of their charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never called to bear my part, Or show the glory of our art. Enlarging, after the fashion of Euripides, on this topic, she would be recalling to the audience earlier parts of the story. Then she would proceed to hint the future in declaring that amends must now be made. She has summoned the Witches to meet her this day at the pit of Acheron, whither Macbeth is coming to learn his destiny ; there they are to provide vessels and charms, while she herself is for the air : Upon the comer of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I'll catch it ere it come to ground : And that, distilled by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion : He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear; For, know all men, security Is mortals' chiefest encfny. The whole speech breathes the spirit of the formal prologue, and concludes with the inevitable gnomic verse; while the effect of this glance into past and future is to tinge all that follows with the irony so strongly affected by Greek poets, who loved to let their audiences watch a story in the light of its divinely determined issues. Paj'odc The Chorus appear in the orchestra— aged Clansmen of Macbeth. They enter in marching rhythm, and their first words are inspired by the scene before them : the pleasant seat of the castle \ where heaven's breath smells wooingly, nimbly and sweetly recommending itself unto the gentle senses, approved by summer's guest, the temple-haunting * The distinction in the original between different castles of Macbeth may be ignored for purposes of the present problem. ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. 229 martlet, whose loved mansionry proclaims from every Chap. VI. jutty, frieze, buttress and coign of vantage that the air " — is delicate. They indicate how they are come to pay their duty to the king, the hero of their clan, Bellona's bride- groom, who carves out like valour's minion a passage to victory where Scotland's rebels swarm on either side. They are come also to learn tidings of their Queen, now smitten with affliction— and what may that affliction be ! Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. At this point their march is transformed into an ode, stro/>hc- with its regular strophic alternations. It starts with the favourite Greek theme : — many are the woes of our life, but none is like the woe of a passion-driven woman, or of a man on whom frenzy has been sent from heaven for dark deeds done. Such keep alone, of sorriest fancies their com- panions making : their mind is full of scorpions : their deed is as a snake scotched, not killed, ever ready to close and be herself again : they eat their meal in fear, and sleep in affliction of terrible dreams that visit them nightly : longing to be as the dead — whom they, to gain their peace, have sent to peace — they lie instead on the torture of the mind in restless ecstasy. Such was Ajax, who sinned against Athena, and was antistropiie visited by her with a deception of the eyes, in which he took simple sheep for his insolent foes, and revelled in inglorious slaughter. Such again was Hercules, who, inflamed by the goddess he had offended, shot down his own children with his irresistible arrows. And beneath the wrath of a greater Power than the gods of Ajax and Hercules was the ruler of Babylon driven from his throne, and made his dwelling with the beasts of the field, eating grass like the ox, his body wet with the dews of heaven, until he had learned of Him before whom all the inhabitants of the earth are as grasshoppers : 230 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Chap. VI, none can stay His hand or say unto Him, What doest Thou ^ ? Episode I. The ode gives place to an episode as a Physician is seen upon the stage, coming through the entrance of neighbour- hood. He enquires of the Chorus for the Queen's I^dy Attendant, adding that he has watched with her for two nights yet seen nothing of the strange symptoms said to accompany the Queen's malady : now he will try the effect of a third visit. The Chorus bid him enquire no further, for here the Attendant herself comes from the castle. The two discuss the patient's condition, how she walks in her sleep, receiving the benefits of repose while she does the effects of watching. As Lady Macbeth at this juncture enters from the palace the change of feeling is reflected in the parallel verse of the speakers. I Concerto Attendant. Doctor. Chorus. Attendant. Chorus. Attendant. Doctor. Attendant. Lo, here she comes: this is her very guise. Observe her: fast asleep indeed she is. How came she by that light? She keeps it by her. Her eyes are open. But their sense is shut. What does she now? look how she rubs her hands. So have I seen her by the hour together. The Queen's dehrious visions then find expression in words. It is precisely for such agitated passion as this that the ancient tragedy reserved its stage lyrics : the scene ceases for a time to be in blank verse, and alike the utterances of the dreamer and the comments upon them of the Chorus fall into irregular metres bound together by the play of strophe and antistrophe. If the disjointed sayings of Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's scene be examined there will be found to be three trains of thought running through them ; in the adapted version it will be well for that which belongs to each * Compare for the whole parode, Macbeth I. \i. i-io; v. i. 79; m. ii. 7-26 \ &c. ll ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY, 231 train of thought to be collected together by itself, and each Chap. VI. will stir its own kind of reflections in the Chorus. First, Lady Macbeth's mind runs upon the thought oi strophe blood. — Out, damned spot ! — Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him ? — Here's the smell of blood still ! — Ah ! all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand ! — The Chorus (carrying on the rhythm) seem to recognise the bloody story that has stained the fame of their chieftain : the morning of horror inconceiv- able, confusion's masterpiece, when sacrilegious murder was found to have broken open the Lord's anointed temple, and stolen thence the life of the building : and they who looked felt their sight destroyed by a new Gorgon, as before them lay Duncan, his silver skin laced with his golden blood, while gashed stabs upon his corpse looked like a breach in nature for ruin's wasteful entrance. The rhythm reverses for antistrophe as Lady Macbeth anthtroph- speaks a second time, and now she is taunting her husband with cowardice. — Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard ? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account ? ... No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that : you mar all with this starting. — To bed, to bed ! there's knocking at the gate ! — The Chorus remember the old suspicions of Macbeth as the chiefs of Scotland stood in his castle on the fatal morning : fears and scruples shook them as they sought to fight against the undivulged pretence of treasonous mahce. And one spake a bitter word : He hath borne all things well ! how did the grieved Macbeth in pious rage tear the delinquent slaves of drink and thralls of sleep — a noble deed, and wise : for who could have borne to hear the men deny it ? So he hath borne all things well ! The Queen speaks yet a third time. The thane of Fife had epode a wife : where is she now ? — The Chorus respond in amaze- ment : the thane of Fife, the valiant Macduff? this passes our comprehension. Is some new deed impending ? 232 SHAICESPEARE'S * MA CBE TH ' Chap. VI. 'I Rhesis 1 As Lady Macbeth passes again within the palace the sense of rehef is reflected in the return to blank verse. The Physician bids the Lady Attendant watch well her patient • no other jemedy is possible, for this is a disease beyond his practice. Here would be an opportunity for one of those rhetorical discourses in which Greek Tragedy abounds, and .n this case it would be a rhesis of the Euripidean order consisting m the expansion of a theme. Indeed both the theme and the speech are at hand in Shakespeare, except that the dramatic conditions of an Elizabethan tragedy reduce all speeches in length to an amount inconsistent with the present purpose. But it will be easy to piece out our rhesis with fragments on kindred themes drawn from other parts of the play. The Physician would open with the thought of mental disease. ^ What leech can minister to a mind diseased, riuck from the memory a rooted sorrow. Raze out the written troubles of the brain. And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? therein the patient Must mmister to himself. Fi^em He might naturally enlarge by passing on to the idea of the distracted land, longing that his sill could a^ai hi country— "^^ A„j „ •. -^^"^ ^^"^ disease. And pnrge ,t to a sound and pristine health : 1 hat rhubarb, cyme, or some purgative drug, Could scour the foe away. With all this it would be easy to link on thoughts belonging to the cnsis of Duncan's murder. Medical art (the rles"! EsTn Ip- ^'^ ''^^ ' '"' °^ '""''^« ^- --^ered Qi ^v 1 '^^ innocent sleep i>leep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care. ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY, 233 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. Chief nourisher in life's feast :— who this destroy More need they the divine than the physician ^ Chap. VI. The personages on the stage retire, and the Chorus have the orchestra to themselves for the purposes of a full ode. The scene has carried their thoughts to the night of Duncan's murder— one of the main incidents for the intro- duction of which we have to rely upon lyric celebration. The ode might start in the form of a hymn to Night, Choral mother of Crime : seeling night, that scarfs up the tender ^^^^''^"^-f eye of pitiful day, with bloody and invisible hand cancels ''"^"^^ . and tears to pieces the great bond which keeps the criminal pale. Light thickens, the crow makes wing to the rooky wood, the bat flies his cloistered flight, the shardborne beetle with drowsy hum rings night's yawning peal, the owl shrieks —that fatal bellman who gives the sternest good-night : then good things of day begin to droop, and night's black agents rouse them to their preys. O'er the one half world nature seems dead ; wicked dreams abuse the curtained sleep, and witchcraft celebrates pale Hecate's rites, and withered Murder, alarumed by his sentinel the wolf, whose howl is his watch, with stealthy pace, with Tarquin's ravish- ing strides, moves towards his design like a ghost. But when Duncan was murdered the night was unruly : antistrop chimneys were blown down, lamentings were heard in the air, strange screams of death, and prophesyings with accents terrible of dire combustion and confused events new hatched to the woeful time. Some say the earth was feverous and did shake. There was husbandry in heaven : their candles were all out, and the ministers of murder, waiting in sight- less substances on nature's mischief, palled the night in the » The whole episode is parallel with v. i. of the original. For the concerto compare further 11. iii. 71-8, n 7-22, 135.8 ; „x. vi. Yox the rhesis : v. iii. 40-56, 11. ii. 35-43. 232 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Chap. VI. As Lady Macbeth passes again within the palace the sense of rehef is reflected in the return to blank verse. The Physician bids the Lady Attendant watch well her patient ; no other remedy is possible, for this is a disease beyond his practice. Here would be an opportunity for one of those rhetorical discourses in which Greek Tragedy abounds, and Rhesis in this case it would be a rhesis of the Euripidean order, consisting in the expansion of a theme. Indeed both the theme and the speech are at hand in Shakespeare, except that the dramatic conditions of an Elizabethan tragedy reduce all speeches in length to an amount inconsistent with the present purpose. But it will be easy to piece out our rhesis with fragments on kindred themes drawn from other parts of the play. The Physician would open with the thought of mental disease. What leech can minister to a mind diseased. Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? therein the patient Must minister to himself. He might naturally enlarge by passing on to the idea of the distracted land, longing that his skill could avail his country — Find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health : That rhubarb, cyme, or some purgative drug, Could scour the foe away. With all this it would be easy to hnk on thoughts belonging to the crisis of Duncan's murder. Medical art (the rhesis would continue) is for the disordered body, not for the im- pious soul. He who does a deed of murder has murdered his own sleep — The innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, ^1 \ ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY, 233 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath. Chap. VI. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast :— who this destroy More need they the divine than the physician ^ The personages on the stage retire, and the Chorus have the orchestra to themselves for the purposes of a full ode. The scene has carried their thoughts to the night of Duncan's murder— one of the main incidents for the intro- duction of which we have to rely upon lyric celebration. The ode might start in the form of a hymn to Night, Choral mother of Crime : seeling night, that scarfs up the tender ^^^^^^ "^ eye of pitiful day, with bloody and invisible hand cancels and tears to pieces the great bond which keeps the criminal pale. Light thickens, the crow makes wing to the rooky wood, the bat flies his cloistered flight, the shardborne beetle with drowsy hum rings night's yawning peal, the owl shrieks —that fatal bellman who gives the sternest good-night : then good things of day begin to droop, and night's black agents rouse them to their preys. O'er the one half world nature seems dead; wicked dreams abuse the curtained sleep, and witchcraft celebrates pale Hecate's rites, and withered Murder, alarumed by his sentinel the wolf, whose howl is his watch, with stealthy pace, with Tarquin's ravish- ing strides, moves towards his design like a ghost. But when Duncan was murdered the night was unruly : antutrop chimneys were blown down, lamentings were heard in the air, strange screams of death, and prophesyings with accents terrible of dire combustion and confused events new hatched to the woeful time. Some say the earth was feverous and did shake. There was husbandry in heaven : their candles were all out, and the ministers of murder, waiting in sight- less substances on nature's mischief, palled the night in the * The whole episode is parallel with V. i. of the original. For the concerto compare further 11. iii. 71-8, 117-22, 135-8 ; ill. vi. For the rhesis : v. iii. 40-56, 11. ii. 35-43- i.r ? 234 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' ] / ^^AP. VI. dunnest smoke of hell, a blanket of thick darkness through which heaven might not peep to cry to the murderer, Hold. And night's predominance was extended to the morrow's day, and darkness yet entombed the face of earth when living light should be kissing it : a sore night, trifling all former knowings. efode Unnatural omens had gone before, like the unnatural deed they foreshadowed. A falcon towering in pride was hawked at by a mousing owl; Duncan's horses, beauteous and swift, minions of their race, turned wild in nature, flung out and made war with mankind. Verily the heavens were troubled with man's act and threatened his bloody stage. x\nd now some new crime has been darkly hinted : what this dread deed may be nought but time can reveal. Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day'. Episode J L The lyric ritual breaks up as Macbeth enters by the distance entrance, newly returned from his visit to the Witches at the pit of Acheron. The first meeting between the Clansmen and their chief would give occasion for those elaborate interchanges of courtesy for which Greek blank verse is so suitable, and matter for which abounds in the intercourse between Duncan and his lords. Macbeth would acknowledge his clansmen's devotion to his house. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them. The Chorus might respond : The labour we delight in physics pain : The service and the loyalty we owe In doing pays itself. Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt, To make their audit at your highness' pleasure. » For the whole ode compare Macbeth III. ii. 40-53 ; n. i. 4, 49-60; II. iii. 59-68; i. v. 51-55 ; n. iv. 1-20; i. iii. 146. A '\ ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY, 235 Macbeth unfolds to the Chorus— as accepted confidants Chap. VI. on the Greek stage— the nature of the expedition from which he is just returned, and how the oracles had given him sure ground of confidence against the foes who so sorely threaten him. He would describe with some minute- ness the incantations and apparitions; where the actual point of the oracular disclosure was approached it would no doubt be drawn out in parallel verse. Chorus. And wdlt thou tell the vision, or conceal? Macbeth. An infant, crowned, bore in his hand a tree. Chorus. And spake he bodements ? or how goes the tale ? Macbeth. That I should careless live who chafes or frets— Chorus. Meant he for ever, or some season fix'd? Macbeth. Till Birnam wood should come to Dunsinane. Chorus. Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Macbeth. ^o long ^ time High-placed Macbeth shall sleep in spite of thunder. Chorus. Saw'st thou aught else, or ends the vision here? Macbeth. A bloody child bade me be bold and bloody— Chorus. Dread things thou tell'st: my heart throbs to know more — Macbeth. For none of woman bom should harm Macbeth. Chortis. Then may'st thou laugh to scorn the pow'r of man. Macbeth continues that there was one drawback in the promises of the oracle : he was bidden to beware of Mac- duff. But this caution he has already observed, making assurance doubly sure and taking a bond of fate : an expedi- tion has already been sent against his enemy, to slay him and his wife, and extirpate the whole stock. The Chorus tremblingly recognise the meaning of the dark sayings m Lady Macbeth's delirium. With the cautious reticence proper to a Chorus they tell their king they cannot praise this deed of his, yet they can wish him joy in its success. Mac- beth, in surprise, asks how the matter can be known already. They explain the supernatural illumination of the sick Queen's fancy. This reminds Macbeth of the condition of / 236 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Choral Interlude strophe I Chap. VI. his wife and he passes within the palace, leaving the Chorus to another interlude ^ This ode, starting from the thought of the strange clairvoyance of Lady Macbeth, works gradually towards the second main incident that has to be introduced indirectly the meeting with the Witches on the heath of Forres. How is it, they cry, that the eyes of some are mysteriously opened to the invisible, the distant, the future ? To the brain disordered by sickness the illumination comes in delirium, as our Queen has seen the deed done in the far distance. So the vision of the seer can pierce the future, and reads time as a book. So the murderer, plotting his impious crime, sees an air-drawn dagger, the painting of his fear, proceeding from his heat-oppressed brain— palpable in form, the handle towards his hand, and on the blade and dudgeon gouts of blood— not to be clutched, yet ever before him, and marshalling him the way that he was going. And so to the same murderer, when the deed is done, comes the opening of the eyes as haunting Ate : though the brains be out the victims will not die : they rise before him with twenty mortal murders on their crowns, until he is unmanned with flaws and starts, though bold to look on that which might appal the devil. Most dread of all are those beings who to gain such un- holy knowledge will do a deed without a name, and give their eternal jewel to the common Enemy of man ! They will look into the seeds of time though to compass their end they untie the winds, and bid the yesty waves swallow navigation up, though palaces and pyramids must slope their heads to their foundations, even till Destruction sicken. Such were the secret black and midnight hags that met our Chieftain on the blasted heath, hovering through the fog and filthy air, bubbles of earth melting as breath into wind. Episode II follows in the main the matter of I v. i : compare also I. iii. 150; I. vi. 10-28, I. iv. 22 ; 11. iii. 54. antistrophe ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. 237 The ode follows out the triple prediction of Glamis, Cawdor, Chap. VI. King : and how when two truths had been told as happy prologues to the swelling theme dark deeds did the rest. Strange web of true and false woven by the Erinnyes, who to win us to our harm bait for us the trap with honest trifles to betray us in deepest consequence \ Cries heard from the direction of the women's quarters Episode bring Macbeth again upon the stage. Chorus. It is the cry of women, good my lord. Macbeth, I have almost forgot the taste of fears : Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once move me. The Attendant enters and announces the Queen's death. After a brief exclamation of woe from the Chorus, Macbeth speaks, and his words fall into the lyric strains of a monody. Monody Alas ! for his beauteous Queen ! yet why mourn her death? if not now she must have died hereafter I Inevitably as morrow after morrow goes creeping on, history spelling itself out syllable by syllable— inevitably would have come the time for that word death : even as all our yesterdays have succeeded one another only to form a long train of servants lighting fools the way to dusty death. What is Hfe to mourn over ? a brief candle— out with it ! a walking shadow! a poor player strutting and fretting his hour upon a stage, then silent for ever ! Man spends his years as a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing M » The ode puts i. iii : add 11. i. 33-49 ; "i- iv. 50-106 ; iv. i. 48-60. 2 In this difficult and much disputed passage I understand should m its sense of must [number 2 of Schmidt's lexicon : the should of inevit- able futurity-compare : This day my sister should the cloister enter {^M. for M. I. ii. 182), Your grace shall understand that I am very sick i^Merch. iv. i. 1 50)]. The words succeed the speech in which Macbeth has said that he is grown callous to fear : in this speech a similar callousness appears in his thought that death is too inevitable to be worth moummg : all life is but a bundle of opportunities for death. » Macbeth v. v. 8-28. /; 238 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Forensic contest \ Chap. VI. Blank verse is resumed, as a Herald from England enters by the distance entrance. It is essential that one episode should be reserved for the forensic contest, in which the case of Macbeth and his fate-appointed adversary Macduff should be brought into formal opposition. There are ample materials for such a debate in Shakespeare's play, par- ticularly in two scenes^, one in which Macduff is censured by his own family for his strange step in fleeing alone to England, the other in which Macduff seeks to win Mal- colm by his account of the wretched state of Scotland under the tyrant. The Herald advancing declares he is come from the Scottish exiles in England, from the pious Edward, Northumberland and warlike Siward : these are so ex- asperated with the reports of Macbeth's tyrannies that they are preparing war, with the help of Him above. Macbeth answers with defiance : Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up. But the Herald continues : he has further a special message from the thane of Fife. The story is told of Macduff re- ceiving the news that his wife and children were slaughtered : 6xi the point of quitting his country for ever he was brought back to the task of revenge, praying heaven to cut short all intermission. He now challenges the tyrant to mortal combat : Within my sword's length set thee: if thou scape, Heaven forgive thee too ! So Macbeth learns that his rapid precaution has come too late : the man of fate has escaped alone from the massacre. In bitterness of heart he begins to taunt Macduff, thus furnishing the rhesis on one side. He taunts him as a coward, who could rawly leave wife and child, those precious * IV. ii. and iii. v-~~~> -^ ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY, 239 motives, those strong bonds of love, without leave-taking. Chap. VI. Macduff lacks the natural touch : the very wren, the most diminutive of birds, will fight, her young ones in the nest, against the owl. The Chorus endorse this reflection on Macduff: His flight was madness: when our actions do not Our fears do make us traitors. Before the answering rhesis, there might be interposed some of the usual parallel verse, as the Herald makes defence for the thane he represents. Herald. You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. Macbeth. Little the wisdom when the flight So runs against all reason. Herald. Love lacked he not, yet knew the fits o' the season. Macbeth. All was the fear, and nothing was the love. Herald. That which has been has been : hear what remains. Macbeth. Speak to a heart that cannot taint with fear. The Herald then, in one elaborate outpouring, gathers up the denunciations of Macbeth by those for whom he speaks. He addresses him as a tyrant whose sole name blisters the tongue : Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damned In evils to top Macbeth. He Stigmatises him as bloody, luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin that has a name. He paints the afflicted country sunk beneath his yoke : Each new mom New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face. But at last hands have been uplifted in her right, and from England goodly thousands are coming. Now shall the usurper feel the hollowness of his power : I, 240 SHAKESPEARE'S 'MACBETH' Chap. VI. Now shalt thou feel Thy secret murders sticking on thy hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid thy faith-breach ; Those thou commandest move but in command, Nothing in love: now shalt thou feel thy title Hang loose about thee, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief. Thy way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends. Thou must not look to have ; but in the their stead Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. The comment of the Chorus on this is the conventional dis- tinction between threatening and doing. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issues strokes must arbitrate. Macbeth bids the Herald go and hasten on the war he threatens : The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. Choral The ode which follows indicates the shadow of turning sZophU ^ yf^^ch. has come over the action. Dark oracles bade our chief * beware Macduff,' and in seeking to destroy the man he was to fear he has turned him into a fierce avenger. Verily our evil deeds have still their judgment here : and the ode works in the thought of Macbeth's famous soliloquy', that the evildoer cannot feel sure his blow will be the be-all aniistrophe and end-all even here, on this bank and shoal of time : else might he jump the hfe to come. But his crime becomes a bloody instruction whose teaching returns to plague the inventor, evenhanded justice commending the ingredients of his poisoned chalice to his own lips. The outlook is evil, yet the Chorus will hope : things at the worst will cease or else climb upward. >i. vii. The next episode will contain the Me! No matter could be more suitable for this than the incident ^.-^^^^^ of Birnam wood: but the incident needs adaptation to change iv. it from dramatic to epic form. The first announcement may appropriately be made, as in Shakespeare, by the Watchman who has that moment beheld the spectacle\ but he must be Messen- followed by a Spy who has been with the English army, and^^^^.^^ can thus relate the strange event in all its fulness. As soon as he has got his breath, he would settle down to a formal description of the English forces arriving at Birnam wood on their march, and halting for rest and refreshment. He would tell how the chieftains held a council of war. One advised that it would be safer to wait for night, and make the advance in the darkness that would hide inferiority of num- bers. But another leader denied that the invaders were the lesser host, and bade advance at once. Thereupon was much discussion whether the tyrant or themselves had the advantage in numbers, and when they could not agree, Malcolm rose up and made a notable proposal. He counselled that they should cut down every man a bough of a tree, and holding these before them shadow the number of their host and bewilder the foe. Then the speech would describe the bustle and movement in the camp as this novel device was being carried out : how the army disposed themselves to the task in regular order, each division choosing a separate tree : — here on the march groves of beeches rode on horse- back, there fir branches concealed the main body of the foot, while tasselled larches shook under the light movements of the skirmishers. In conclusion, the Spy says they will be here anon, and throwing down their leafy screens show them- selves as they are in the assault : Such warrior host of woods as war ne'er saw. The shock which Macbeth feels at this strange fulfilment of ^ v. V. 29-48. R Q h "nly lor a moment : then the soldier's spirit kindles in him as he rapidly orders his defence. Such sud- den animation a Greek tragedy would convey by a burst of accelerated rhythm, into which it is easy to fit the many phrases of valour and defiance scattered through Shake- speare's fifth act ^ Ho, mine armour— ring the alarum— give the clamorous trumpets breath : Bid them speak to every quarter, harbingers of blood and death I Hang our banners from the ramparts : to our kingdom's utmost bound Horsemen ride, and yet more horsemen, let them skirr the country round ; Hither sweep our Scottish forces, thane and kerne assemble here; Hang each recreant, lily-liver'd, whey-faced counsellor of fear. What though England's thousands round us, though the cry be still, They come. Thousand Scots shall meet them dareful, beard to beard, and drive them home. Who am I to play the Roman, fall on my undeeded sword. While before me better gashes English foemen's lives afford'? Foemen that must lose their labour, such a charmed life I bear, Spirits that know mortal issues so have freed my life from fear: What Macduff, what stripling Malcolm, meets me, not of woman bom ? His sole weapon may I yield to, other swords I laugh to scorn. Lo, I throw before my body wariike shield : blow wind, come wrack, One push cheers me ever— or I die with harness on my back ! ^InTerlude ^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^"^ ^^ ^^^ ^^"1^ : the Chorus left behind llp^''' ^^^^ another stroke of fate overwhelming them, cabin'd, cribb'd, confined to saucy doubts and fears. They sing how oracles of heaven have ever misled men : how Croesus trusted in the assurance that he was to overthrow a kingdom, antistrophe and knew not that it was his own kingdom he should destroy'; how the wise Oedipus obeying the divine mandate used all his wisdom to discover the slayer of Laius, and wist not that he was discovering his own shame. There is no safety but in the path of righteousness. / E. g. scenes iii. 3-5. 15-17, ^^.^^ . y. j, 2, 5-7, 51, 52 ; yi. 9, 10; vu. 12, 13, 17, 20, 26 ; viii. 1-3, 12, 32. Exodus. ARRANGED AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. 243 The final denouement of this play is part of a battle, and Chap. VI. therefore cannot in the most fragmentary way appear on a Greek stage. Accordingly, the explanation as to Macduff's birth has to be made indirectly. An English prisoner, we may imagine, is brought in: as he crosses the stage the Chorus ask who he is, and how he comes to be fighting against Scotland's king. The prisoner might reply, in words of the play, I am one So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance To mend it, or be rid on't. The Chorus say, in conventional phrase, that he is involved in the net of destruction. In the same strain he replies that it is the fortune of war : our turn to-day, yours to-morrow. Nay, reply the Chorus, we have no fear for our king in this contest. The prisoner enquires the ground of such con- fidence. Fate, answer the Chorus, has spoken goodly truths out of the dark. Prisoner. What truth can fend a mortal man from death? Chorus. That none of woman bom can harm Macbeth. The prisoner laughs the Chorus to scorn; he has served under Macduff and knows the secret story of his birth. As he is borne away, the Chorus in a burst of lyrics express their con- sternation. Their charm is despaired ! the cursed tongue that has told this news has cowed the better part of man in them ! they are weary of the sun, and wish the estate of the world undone ! they curse the juggling fiends that can lie like truth, keeping the word of promise to the ear, and breaking it to the hope. As a climax, the Chorus break into two bands : one semichorus would fain seek out some desolate shade and there weep their sad bosoms empty : the rest cry out to make medicines of revenge, and holding fast the mortal sword like good men bestride their downfallen kingdom \ While the * Compare Macbeth^ v. viii. 13-22 ; v. v. 49, 50; I v. iii. 1-4. R 2 244 'MACBETH' AS AN ANCIENT TRAGEDY. Chap. VI. Chorus are still irresolute, tidings of the English victory and the death of Macbeth are brought. The semichoruses unite to wail the news in a lyric outburst : had they but died an hour before this chance they had lived a blessed time ; for from this instant there's nothing serious in mortality! Renown and grace is dead : the wine of life is drawn and the mere lees is left this vault to brag of M At this juncture, amid flare of trumpets, Malcolm appears as conqueror, his victori- ous troops pouring upon the stage, all waving boughs of Birnam woods, which they have picked up again as tokens of triumph. Malcolm reassures the Chorus : he has warred not against the land, but only against the tyrant, whose death will Give to their tables meat, sleep to their nights, Free from their feasts and banquets bloody knives. The Chorus cannot forbear a strain of lamentation for their lost chief, but they recognise that the will of heaven has triumphed over wrong. An earlier couplet in the play will supply the Chorus with an appropriate word of dismissal : God's benison go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes. ^ Macbeth^ II. iii. 96-101. VII. Origin of Comedy. VII. ii The origin of Comedy in antiquity goes for the first part of Chap. VII. its course step by step with the origin of Tragedy. However ^ ~^j^^ widely contrasted the two things were destined to become, origin for they drew a common inspiration from thejiaUire-worshi^d^^^^'^^^^ Dionysiac o rgies, i n which there was enthusiasm to generate Comedy. dramatic passion, c(wiaexien~with- nature-changes to found the conce ption of plot, while the caauval-like disguisings of the revellers were already a form of dramatic characterisation. But even to a Bacchic orgy there was a higher and a lower side. The Dithyramb was the direct address to the jolly god of nature: the Phallic Procession gave vent in yet wilder abandon to the loosest of nature joys\ Aristotle has preserved the tradition, which agrees with the nature of things, that the IMthyramb was the starting-point of Trag edy, ^ the Phallic Procession of Comedy_._ Such a Phallic Procession was, like the Dithyramb, a The ' Comus,' or wandering dance : not confined to an orchestra, but leading the revellers in a sort of sacred romp through the whole of a village or country-side. It would be specially appropriate to the Rural Dionysia— the harvest-home of the vintage, or the Greater Dionysia which celebrated the return of Spring. To an English reader, such a ritual is best brought home by the fossil comus which is still to be seen among the traditional customs of a remote country district. 1 Thus in the Phallic Procession introduced into the Achaniians the farmer addresses Phales as Comus-fellow of Dionysus, and connects him with the pleasures that belong to night (264-6). — y 248 ORIGIN OF COMEDY. ELEMENTS OF COMEDY. 249 The •Cornish Furiy as a fossil to mils. \ Chap. VII. I refer to the Cornish Flower-Dance, or Furry \ which is kept up at Helstone on the 8th of May. From an early hour the place is alive with drums and fifes, and townsmen hoarsely chaunting a ballad, the burden of which conveys the spirit of the festival : With Hal-an-tow, Jolly rumble O, And we were up as soon as any day O, And for to fetch the Summer home, The Summer and the May O ; For the Summer is a-come O, And Winter is a-go O ! The verses of the ballad seem to convey topical allusions that have become traditional. One speaks of Robin Hood and Little John as gone to the fair, and the revellers will go too ; another triumphs in the Spaniards eating the grey goose feather while the singers will be eating the roast. Another runs thus quaintly : God bless Aunt Mary Moses W^ith all her pow'r and might O ; And send us peace in merry England Both day and night O. With Hal-an-tow, Jolly rumble O, And we were up as soon as any day O, And for to fetch the Summer home, The Summer and the May O ; For the Summer is a-come O, And Winter is a-go O! Thus singing they troop through the town ; if they find any- one at work, they hale him to the river and make him leap across ; arrived at the Grammar School they demand a holi- day ; at noon they go * fadding ' into the country, and come back with oak-branches and flowers in their hats and caps ; then until dusk they dance hand-in-hand down the streets, ^ The word is variously derived from the Cornish word fcr, a fair or jubilee, and fray, a sudden excursion, and the Latin Floralia, a flower- festival celebrated about the same date. > S i. and through any house, in at one door, out at another ; when Chap. VII. night falls they keep up the dancing in-doors. The character of the dancing is exactly that of the ancient Comus ; and the whole spirit of the Cornish Furry is a fair representation of primitive nature festivals, except, of course, that modern devoutness has banished from the flower-dance all traces of a religious festival : — unless a trace is to be found in the fact that the dancers at one. point make a collection. So far the Hne of development for Tragedy and Comedy Differen- has been the same : the divergence begins where the common ^^f^^J^^^^,, ancestor, the Comus, becomes united with other forms of the ballad-dance. An earlier chapter has shown how, under Arion, the Comus amalgamated with the Chorus and origi- nated Tragedy. It united also with 'Satire,' and from the union sprang Comedy. This 'Satire' is one of the four main varieties of the ballad- Satire dance, and its development proceeded side by side with that YiuraT^^^' of epic poetry and the lyric Comus and Chorus. In subject-/^;-//;, matter the name Satire suggests something like the modern lampoon. Its distinction of form was due to the rapidity with which it shook off the music and gesture it had inherited from the ballad-dance, and led the way in those metrical changes which bring verse to a point nearly approaching the speech of ordinary life. There are traces of the Satire among the * Homeric ' poems, which are our nearest representative of Greek primitive ballad poetry ; and three lines, in Homeric metre, have survived of the Margites^ which appears to have been a lampoon on some learned fool of the primitive world. Many the crafts of the craftsmen he knew, and all of them badly. Him nor of earth a digger the gods had made, nor a ploughman : Wise was he in no art : but at failing in all of them skilful. But a great master of Satire soon arose, whose name became Archi- 7 1' as great a power as the name of Homer ; and as legends of ^'^ "''' the blind minstrel gathered around Homer, so to Archi- lochus were attributed the traditional stories of the lam- '-\ 250 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, i Chap. VII. pooner, such as that which represents him in the hght of a rejected suitor taking such a bitter satiric revenge against the women of Lycambes' house that they hanged themselves. The great work of Archilochus was to lay the foundation of a metrical revolution, substituting for the stately dactylic metre the tripping iambic system, which was destined to become, alike for ancient and modern literatures, the basis of * blank verse': so clearly is Satire the origin of this metrical system that in Greek to iambise means to lampoon\ The actual compositions of Archilochus have come down to us only in disjointed fragments ; but an idea of the Satire as a literary form may be gathered from Archilochus's avowxd imitator, Horace, and I give one of his ' epodes ' in a form retaining the iambic metre. It attacks another satirist. Why play the cur that snarls at harmless stranger's step But stirs not when the wolf is come ? Why not your empty threats on me turn, if you dare, And where you will be bitten bite? For like Molossian hound, or tawny Spartan breed, The shepherd's bulwark and his love, Win 1 through wintry drifts of snow, mine ears erect, Drive headlong all the forest kind: You, while the woodland echoes still your threatening barks, Already smell the offered sop. Take heed, take heed : horns ready for the toss I hold. Bitterest of bitter 'gainst the bad : Such as Lycambes found the suitor he deceived. Or who the sculptor railed to death. What, am I likely, singled out by vicious tooth. To whimper, harmless, as a child? Satire and It was this Satire, then, that combined with the Comus to *t}lelemmts ^^^^^^ Comedy. The union of the two was not, as in the of Comedy, case of Tragedy, the work of a distinct revolution by which the characteristics of the two rituals were joined in one. * It appears that the versions of the Margit s known to the Alex- andrian critics contained iambic lines mingling with the hexameters. & )| /) ELEMENTS OF COMEDY. 251 lanes. Before anything like amalgamation took place the two Chap. VII. elements were for a long time maintained side by side. ^, The Comus-procession, besides chauntmg the praises o\ combine by Bacchus, would exchange extempore 'chaff' with the passers- olterttation by, and halt at intervals for regular bouts of satire before Cotmis- resuming the dance : alike the song and the interruptions procession. constituted the vent for high spirits w^hich the ancients regarded as worship. This preparatory stage in the develop- ment of Comedy we can enter into with considerable clear- ness, for we have an example of it in a glorified form in the Comus of the Initiated which Aristophanes has introduced into his Frogs. The scene of the play is the world of the Comus of dead : even here the Initiated — the inner circle of the ^^^^ ^^^ ^j^^ religious world — have reserved for them regions devoted to ' Frogs * of their mysteries, and to these they are on their way in torch- .^^ light procession when they encounter the personages of the drama. Bacchus, its hero, and his servant Xanthias, are in broad farce undergoing the inconveniences incident to travellers in a new country, when their ears are caught by the sound of flutes, and after some moments of terrified suspense the troop of the Initiated come pouring into the orchestra, hymning the god and waving torches with each invocation. With Bacchus and Xanthias on one side of the? 2 revellers, and the audience in the theatre on the other side, to serve as spectators or passers-by, the requisites of a Dionysic procession are complete. Full Comus. Come from thy holy seats, Come from thy deep retreats, Come, come, lacchus. Dancing along the mead. Come, thy own troop to lead, Come, come, lacchus. Let the fresh myrtle bough, Studded with flowers, W^ave o'er thy crowned brow Free mirth is ours. comus > f CiiAP.VIL 252 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, So let thy foot advance, Bold in the graceful dance. This holy company, Gathered for revelry, Wistfully waits for thee : Come, come, lacchus. mtert-uptioH [But the by-standcrs on the stage interrupt : the slave being standers Hiore attracted by food than music. Xanthias, Much-honoured Proserpine ! this smell of pork is nice ! Bacchus. Pray you be still, and you may chance to get a slice.] Comits. Kindle the flaming brands. Uplift them in thy hands. Light ! light ! lacchus. All the field shines afar ; Thou art our Evening Star, Bright, bright, lacchus. Elders by thee inspired, Cast away pain, Cast away years, and, fired, Dance in thy train. Be thy bright torch on high Polestar to every eye ; While o'er the dewy lea, Dancing in company, Fleetly we follow thee. Blessed lacchus. tonnes resumed \ nnap:gstk intcriogue : satire Here the dance stops, and spreading themselves about the orchestra the revellers change to satire ; at this point the satire is of a more general character than that of individual lampooning, and the metre is therefore not iambic but ana- paestic — a mock proclamation for the uninitiated to depart from the mysteries. A reverent silence fits this place ; and from our chorus let him depart Who is yet mitaught in the Mysteries ; who has stain of guile on his heart ; Who has not won from the Muses' secrets freedom of thought and bodily grace; Who has not learnt from Cratinus the bull-fed what is befitting the time and the place; \ ELEMENTS OF COMEDY. 253 Who takes pleasure in scurrilous jesting, Chap. VII. not regarding the * whom ' and the ' when '; WTio stays not a strife in the city, but is a churl to his own townsmen; Who, for a private object, fans their factious fury and mutual hate; Who, for a gift or favour, ministers wrong for right as their magistrate; Sells his ship, or deserts his post, or under colour of trafficking, sends. Like a Thorycio, thongs, or hemp, or pitch, to serve the enemy's ends; He who, at the feast of Bacchus having been smartly lashed in a play. Goes to the courts and, bringing his action, nibbles a hole in the poet's pay: These, one and all, I forewarn, I forbid, I pro- hibit from hearing our Mystical song! And summon all others to lend us their voices and keep this feast the merry night long. Then the Initiated fall loosely into two bands, as if to follow ^^^«'^^^ separately the two sides of nature-worship, the mysteries of Ceres and of Bacchus. Woi'shippers of Baxchus. W^here the turf invites our feet. Where the flowers are rank and sweet. Brave hearts, advance, advance ! Stirring foot and merry lip. Flinging wanton dance and quip. Befit the Mystics' dance. Worshippers of Ceres. Nay, enough of frolic wit ; Wear the palm who wins in it. Praise ye the Holy Maid: Lady, Saviour, unto thee Rise our strains; for thou wilt be Our never-failing aid! Full Comus. And now, with holy h>Tnns adorn Queen Ceres of the golden com. § ^J^- i Chap. VII. com7es resumed f 252 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, So let thy foot advance, ~ Bold in the graceful dance. This holy company. Gathered for revelry. Wistfully waits for thee : Come, come, lacchus. p^^^uption [But the by-standers on the stage interrupt: the slave being sta^iders more attracted by food than music. Xanthias. Much-honoured Proserpine ! this smell of pork is nice ' Bacchus. Pray you be still, and you may chance to get a slice.] Comus. Kindle the flaming brands, Uplift them in thy hands. Light! light! lacchus. All the field shines afar; Thou art our Evening Star, Bright, bright, lacchus. Elders by thee inspired, Cast away pain, Cast away years, and, fired. Dance in thy train. Be thy bright torch on high Polestar to every eye ; While o'er the dewy lea. Dancing in company. Fleetly we follow thee, Blessed lacchus. Here the dance stops, and spreading themselves about the orchestra the revellers change to satire ; at this poinf the satire is of a more general character than that of individual lampooning, and the metre is therefore not iambic but ana- paestic-a mock proclamation for the uninitiated to depart from the mysteries. A reverent silence fits this place; and from our chorus let him depart Who is yet untaught in the Mysteries ; who has stain of guile on his heart ; Who has not won from the Muses' secrets freedom of thought and bodily grace ; Who has not learnt from Cratinus the bull-fed what is befitting the time and the place; ELEMENTS OF COMEDY. 253 nnapsestic interloguc : general satire ♦ ! i Who takes pleasure in scurrilous jesting, Chaf. \ II. not regarding the ' whom ' and the ' when '; "VMio stays not a strife in the city, but is a churl to his own townsmen; Who, for a private object, fans their factious fury and mutual hate; Who, for a gift or favour, ministers wrong for right as their magistrate ; Sells his ship, or deserts his post, or under colour of trafficking, sends, Like a Thorycio, thongs, or hemp, or pitch, to serve the enemy's ends; He who, at the feast of Bacchus having been smartly lashed in a play. Goes to the courts and, bringing his action, nibbles a hole in the poet's pay : These, one and all, I forewarn, I forbid, I pro- hibit from hearing our Mystical song! And summon all others to lend us their voices and keep this feast the merry night long. Then the Initiated fall loosely into two bands, as if to follow ccmns separately the two sides of nature-worship, the mysteries of '^'^'""" Ceres and of Bacchus. Woishippers of Bacchus. Where the turf invites our feet. Where the flowers are rank and sweet, Brave hearts, advance, advance ! Stirring foot and merry lip, Flinging wanton dance and quip, Befit the Mystics' dance. Worshippers of Ceres. Nay, enough of frolic wit ; Wear the palm who wins in it. Praise ye the Holy Maid: Lady, Saviour, unto thee Rise our strains; for thou wilt be Our never-failing aid I Full Comus. And now, with holy hymns adorn Queen Ceres of the golden com. « 254 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, ELEMENTS OF COMEDY. ("ii.\r. VII. ill I W'onhif'pcrs of Cens. Ceres, let thine eye be o'er us, Lady of the Mysteries ! Look benignly on thy Chorus; Shield us from our enemies. So in mirth and dance and sonq We may while the whole day lon'^. \Vorshipf>crs of Juj,r/tus. Much to please the lauirliter-loviiir. Much to please the wiser head, May I speak: that, all approving, Everywhere it may be said, Worthily our part was done, Worthily ihc garland won. ///// Com us. Invoke ye now the lusty god Who oft with us the dance has trod. Come, master of the sweetest strain, liicchus come, to guide our train I'orth to the goddess' dwelling; And show how, toil-dispelling, Thy guidance in our festal sport 15eguilcs the way, and makes it short. Come, lover of the dance and song, liicchus come: to thee belong The skirt in frolic tatters, And sandal rent. What matters? Trotected by thy festal sway, Unchided wc may dance and play. Come, lover of the song and dance, L-icchus come : looking askance, I saw two eyes that twinkled, A cheek with laughter wrinkled, For she looked merrily on me. Licchus, join our company. !n,.r..„i.n [The last words provoke another interruption from the by Slanders on the stage : Xanthias. Where is that lass ? for I am much disposed to try To break a jest and dance with her. Bacchus. . . And so am LJ 255 \«;:nn the rtvcllLis hrr.ik up \\\u\ sprciid ovi ? the (Mrhcsti;i, ( ii.\i V II. facintr the audience in the lliealre ; the metre heronus . '. iambic as thev cxleninorise lampoons on individuals pre- /"^»/'T"'- J i- >■ ' ii/ili:i,i:t II sent. iaiiri le \i Now shall we, fcllo\v-in()cker>, Make game of Archidinius? Who nt the election bmu'dil forlh noufdit lnil blaik b.-dl . I'ul now ha"^ a InifM- Itillowini; In the tomb's u]>per circle'-, And sets the fashion in hell's rascalry. And Cleisthenes, it's rumoured, Amid the musty tombstones. Tears his fair hair, and wounds his dainty f.hcek. Upon the bale truth f1i?ii;s him, To whine and wail .and w»«)i (or Sebinus, late of Koi^nc and-kaseal street. And Callias, they tell me, The son of Ladv Slattern, Fought at the sea-fight, bravely clad in —wench-skin. (The travellers on the stage here break in upon the riltiid /«.'.'>///// to ask directions for their journey, and the Comus answer without any sense of interrui)tion. Then they fall once more into two bands.) W'orahipfeys of luicchus. Vc who have the holy sign, \c who share the feast divine, Thiongli the flowciy ('rove advance, Idrni the circle, ltatr shade, \\ here holy women, wife and maid, Worship|)ing shall spend the night ; Tor them I must lift the light. Fu/f Comus. To our meadows sprent with flowers, With our measured step and sound, Gracefully tread ye the ground. Ever as the ble-scd hours Bring the feslftl season round, I I ('11/ Hi •.? 256 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, Chap. VII. The two elements i-isnjtiii! Onward to our rosy bowers. Unto us, and us alone, Who, at the divine bclicst, Duteous!)' have shared our l)cst In service to our own And to the stranj^er-comini; !:,'ucst, Is this cheerful sun-lij;ht shown. The Myslirs arc lluis willulrawing in two Imiids wIumi iIicmV attention is arrested by what takes place on the stage, and the play resumes. Such is the character, ideah'sed by the artistic jiower of Creek poetry at its climax, of that Haccliic ritual in which toComcity. the C'omus-song and Satire existed side by side and inter- changed. It is Comedy, l)ut not yet drama. JJoth i)arts of it were essential to the product that was to be : from tlie iambic Satire came the satiric purpose that was supreme to the end of (ireek Comedy, while the Dithyramb has been shown by the history of 'iVagedy to have contained dramatic power in embr)o. liut at present the dancing and satire were like elements of a chemical substance, mixed and charged with a mutual attraction, but waiting the shock that should combine them into a single new form: Comedy could become drama only when the dancing should absorb the satire and convert it into .satiric acting. I'or there are obviously two modes of satirising that may be distinguished as abstract and concrete ; the one declares a thing ridi- culous, the other exhibits it in a ridiculous disguise. Re- ducing the two to their lowest terms, in the one you call a man a fool, in the other you disguise yourself in his likeness and then play the fool. Abstract and ( oncrcte satire might be represented in modern journalism by the Saturday Review and Punch : the first alleges folly, the latter presents it ; the Jv^evicra would declare that a states- man's over-vaunting of his policy descended to the level of a cheapjack's advertisement, while Puuc/i would simply represent the familiar features in cheai)jack costume and ii i u I ' > ELEMENTS OF COMEDY, 257 attitudes, with the bill, done up in shape as a bottle, Ciiap. Ml. peeping out of his potkct. \{ then the (uiestion be asked At what stage in its development were the two elements ()i r/Z,ni'ts Comedy so far fused that the whole beranir drama? theV"^'"' '''"^ answer is : UVnu the body of p, rfonucrs, the C 'omus, i\xc/iaui;r(I itZi's iheh' Bacchic characfcrisaiion fo?- a 7-oh' in the storv thrv thama. acted. They began by app( aiiii!^ in Ihr I'liisc ,t critical point in dranialic diMlopnicnl : it p.issed without ^"""'^-""'' observation, and was ovct before men began to t:ike notice /V;;//>v of social changes. lUit development in folk-lore is much ^"^''■^"'"'■ the same all the world f)ver, nnd if v/e turn to r)nr own popul.ir cu'.toiiis we ran \\\\i\ .in ilhisli.ilion ol the litt i;iry revolution in (ineslion an ilhistr.ilion giving us th.-it which is a prize to the student of develojiment, an institution caught in the act and article of transforming. A sword- dance is still (I believe) kej)t up in Northumberland in the course of whi( h there is a transition from lyric to dramatic. At the oj)ening it is all skill and martini s|)irit : the ballad rings of combat and the gestures are fe.its of sword play. lUit gnidually the d.nicc works into a plot : as it incr( ascs in passion the Rector rushes in to part the combatants, receives a thrust and falls. Then all s:iy * Not 1 ' and '() for a doctor ! ' A doctor enters, p.iinling himself in accord ance with j)o])ular < oik ( ptions : his is a ten pound fee, but for a favour he w ill make it nine pound, nineteen and elevenpence ; he has a pill that will cure The pla{;ue, the paUy, and the pout, The devil within, the devil without, EverythiniT but a love-sick maid And the consumption in the pocket. S f I V 258 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, Primitive C 'omedy : various nameSj Chap. VII. Examining the patient he comes to a favourable conclusion, whereupon all cry Parson, rise up and fight again, The doctor says you are not slain. The Rector comes to, and all ends with rejoicings. The performance which began as pure dancing concludes as pure acting. Similar in principle must have been the transformation which in Greece led the Comus to create dramatic Comedy by simply making their dance imitate that which they wished to attack, instead of breaking off the dance when the time came to satirise. Such Primitive Comedy we find in all parts of Greece, and appearing under a variety of names. Such are the Exhibitions {Deicelictce) at Sparta and elsewhere : dances parodying — in what proportion of words and dumb show we cannot tell — social types obnoxious to popular ridicule, more especially the fruit-stealer and the foreign quack, whose ways would readily lend themselves both to mimicry and to rude poetic justice. Other names are * Dances' {Orchestic), and the untranslatable Bryalida — a word formed from the battle-shout, and which suggests summed tip a resemblance to the sword-dance. The generic term for "clmed/'ll ^^^^ ^^ ' Lyrical Comedy,' a term bringing out parallehsm ' Iambic with the * Lyrical Tragedy ' of Arion : the one is a per- Dance: formance of the Comus, the other of Tragi or Satyrs. A more descriptive term was the * Iambic Dance,' a phrase which conveyed to Greek ears just what ' Lyric Satire ' would suggest to us. All the terms indicate a fusion of lyric and dramatic poetry: without ceasing to be lyric Comedy has become drama by the simple circumstance of the lyric performers borrowing their characterisation from their plot ; dancing has turned into acting for purposes of satire. V Survival of How from such Primitive Comedy as a common stock "Gomedyin ^^^^^ literary forms were derived has now to be shown. I PRIMITIVE COMEDY, 259 may first however mention— anticipating— that even in the Chap. VII. times of literary Comedy the primitive form still survived as •— " a popular amusement ; under such names as Spectacles f,lZ'' {Theamata), Marvels {Thaumata\ or simply Mimes, the imitative dance was cultivated in private entertainments, while the literary drama was consecrated to the theatre. One such Spectacle has been preserved for us by Xenophon, and may serve to illustrate what Primitive Comedy had become in historic times. In his Symposium Xenophon gives what appears rather as a reporter's notes than an idealised sketch of a banquet in which Socrates was the chief guest. Through the different stages of the entertain- ment the company had been amused by a Syracusan with his pupils in dancing, a girl and a boy. For the most part the amusement consisted simply in dancing, or feats with hoops and swords : at the close it became a dramatic per- formance as the Syracusan announced, * My friends, Ariadne will now enter into her bridal chamber, and Bac- chus, who has been drinking a little with the other gods, will afterwards join her.' Accordingly Ariadne entered in bridal costume, and reclined on an elevated couch that had been placed in the centre of the room. Bacchus not yet ap- pearing, a bacchic measure was struck up by the flute : great admiration was aroused as Ariadne, at the sound of the music, expressed by attitude and motion her pleasure, not rising to meet Bacchus, yet showing with what difficulty she could keep quiet. Bacchus, when he entered and caught sight of his bride, fell dancing with delight ; he embraced and kissed her, she with modesty and coyness as a bride, yet lovingly, returned his embrace, while the company clapped and cried, Encore. But the climax of acting was when Bacchus rose and raised Ariadne and they embraced again. There was the utmost admiration for the beautiful Bacchus and the blooming Ariadne, and the way they embraced in earnest and not in pretence; when s 2 26o ORIGIN OF COMEDY. Comedy Aristo- cratic and Demo- cratic. CwxY. VII. Bacchus asked if she loved him, and Ariadne vowed she did, all the spectators were ready to declare that the boy and girl were in love with one another, and not actors taught their part. As a piece of lyric acting this survival of Primitive Comedy appears complete : it is, however, only an entertainment, and there is nothing corresponding to the original satiric purpose, which had by now become sufficiently served by the literary comedy of the theatre ^ So soon as Comedy rises one step beyond primitive form it begins to show that line of cleavage which ran through all Greek institutions, and which had a racial basis in the Doric and Ionic stocks of which the Greek peoples were for the most part composed. In Tragedy, as we have already seen, the difference of dialect between the odes and episodes reflects the fact that it was from the Doric peoples that Tragedy received its chorus, while the dramatic element was developed in Attica. In Comedy, however, the distinction mamly aflects subject-matter. For the Doric race leaned to aristocratic institutions; where, on the contrary, the stock was Ionic there was always a tendency to pass early from an aristocratic to a democratic form of government. Now it is not surprising to find that Comedy, as a branch of literature depending mainly on satire, followed a different course in aristocratic and in popular surroundings : where the government was popular in its basis there would be en- couragement to personalities and the handling of public questions in the drama, while aristocratic influence would confine the satiric attack to human nature in general, or to those external distinctions of social types that belong to the spectacle of life. Accordingly we find in Greece Aristocratic and Democratic Comedy running two separate courses of development, and to a large extent prevailing in separate localities. * The description is given with naive simplicity by Xenophon, in his Symposium^ cap. ix. ' \ ARISTOCRATIC AND DEMOCRATIC COMEDY. 261 Universal tradition ascribes to Megara the invention of Chap. VII. Comedy, that is, of the first changes beyond the primitive ~ comedy that was universal. The tradition is interesting ^«^«,„ from the relation of this state to the line of cleavage just ^P^^^^f^. mentioned. The territory of Megara was situated on the theMegaru: isthmus which separated Doric Peloponnesus, the mainland, P^^^^- from the Ionic peninsula of Attica ; in the state itself happened very early the revolution which converted it from an aristocracy into a democracy; while in its aristocratic phase it had contributed a colony (also styled Megara) to the west — that Greater Greece of Italy and Sicily which was destined to be the stronghold of aristocratic govern- ment and the aristocratic comedy ; again, when Megara turned to the other side of politics, it found itself favourably situated for infecting with a taste for comic literature the great leaders of democratic peoples, the Athenians. The first species then of Comedy appearing in history is the Megarian Farce. Little is known of it beyond the name ; and we may safely assume that this, as other early species, consisted in little more than regulating what before was extemporaneous: prepared plots, and sometimes prepared speeches, took the place of improvisation. As to the form of the Megarian Farce — how far, for example, it remained a dance — no tradition has survived. Its subject-matter seems to have been confined to class-caricature, cooks and scul- lions being the favourite types. Very indirectly we may form some idea of its general character from the parody of its treatment which Aristophanes introduces into a scene of his Acharnians. Old Honesty is enjoying the benefits of peace and an open market, while his countrymen are still at war. A Megarian is represented as coming to this market : the war has left him nothing but his two little daughters to dispose of, and, as he enters, he is soliloquising, in broad provincial dialect, on the hopelessness of procuring a buyer for such a commodity. \ Chap. VII. 262 ORIGIN OF COMEDY. Wha's sae doylt As to buy you, wha*d bring mair scaith nor gain ? But, hoolie ! I've a douce Megarian plan. I'se dress ye up as pigs, and say 'tis pigs I bring to sell. Pit on your nieves thae cloots, An* seem the bairntime o' a buirdly sow ! For by the meikle deil, an ye gang hame, Fient haet a bit o' bread ye'se hae to eat. An' pit upon your gruntles too thae snouts ; Syne gang into the sack, like cannie weans. An'^ tak guid heed ye grumph and say * koi * An' raise sic noises as the haly pigs Bred to be kill't i' the Muckle Mysteries. The rest of the scene is the attempt to palm off this commodity upon Old Honesty, and all the joking and chaffering that such a transaction gives rise to, the Me- garian calmly meeting with positive assurances any ob- jections about the human character of the pigs. His great reliance is on the squeaking. Megarian. Old Honesty. Hae ye a min' to hear their voices? Yes, For god's sake, yes. Megarian, Q^^ick, pig, and make a noise ! Deil tak ye baith, ye mauna haud your tongues ; Haith, an ye do, I'se tak ye hame again. At this threat the girls respond with a feeble koi, koi, and more doubts and calm assertions follow, until the amused buyer starts the experiment of food. Old Honesty. What do they eat? Megarian. whate'er ye gie them Your ainsell at them. Old Honesty. pj~ t First Girl. ^.. , .. , „, -Koi, koi ! Via Honesty. Can you eat tares ? ^^7' ^'^^- Koi, koi, koi ! Old Honesty. What, and dried figs? First Girl. f^, i 1 . Old Honesty. What, and can ^^w eat figs? Seco7id Girl. -r^ .. , ... Old Honesty. How loud you call out, when I talk of figs! Speir ■ >l ARISTOCRATIC AND DEMOCRATIC COMEDY. 263 He calls for figs, and attendants, bringing from behind the Chap. VII. scenes great stores of them, scramble them among the audience in the theatre, according to a common stage trick in Athenian dramatic performances. At last the bargain is concluded, and the children sold for a rope of garlic and a pint of salt : Megarian. Thou Mercury o' merchants, may I sell My wife this gate, and my ain mither too ! From this Megarian Farce as a common starting-point Comedy spread to the aristocratic west, and eastwards to the home of Democracy in Attica. The aristocratic form was the first to reach maturity, and the second known species of Comedy is the Sicilian Comedy of Epicharmus and Sophron, Sicilian which had its flourishing period during the lifetime — nearly C^^^/^^- a century long — of its earlier master. Unquestionably this Comedy : Sicilian species of drama was developed by the marriage of Comedy with Philosophy, and it is a characteristic circum- stance that Epicharmus spent the larger half of his life as a Pythagorean philosopher at Megara (in Sicily), and only the latter part as a comedian at Syracuse. So in general character this Sicilian Comedy was the primitive satiric / dance reduced to regular form, with less of the extempore and more of the literary element, together with a strong infusion of moralising, both in the form of gnomes freely introduced and of individuality in the dramatis personae. Its subject-matter was social satire and class-caricature : * The Rustic ' and ' The Ambassadors to the Festival ' are amongst the titles that have come down to us of Epichar- mus's plays, and he is credited with the invention of two most familiar social types — the drunkard and the parasite. Each of its two masters left a distinctive mark on Sicilian Comedy. To Epicharmus is attributed the introduction of Epi- mythology as a mode of satire. As remarked in an earlier ^'^^^'^^^^;^ chapter, the Greeks were apt to look upon deity as humanity logic satire, writ large : to such thinkers mythological plots afforded a // 264 ORIGIN OF COMEDY. Sophron and his Mimes. w Chap^II. ready means of hyperbolically parodying human ways and foibles. So the Busiris of Epicharmus paints gluttony on the divine scale of Hercules, and his Hephmtus is simply a family squabble in Olympus, the blacksmith deity going off in a huff with his mother, and brought back, drunk, by the arts of Bacchus. Again, it was the work of Sophron to give specific form to the Mime, hitherto one of the many names for the primitive comic dance. Besides other characteristics of Sicilian Comedy the Mimes of Sophron possessed a very marked metrical form, a rhythm midway between prose and verse. The fertility of this branch of drama was such that we read of several varieties of mime— the serious and the comic ', the hypotheses, distinguished by a regular subject or plot and by considerable scenic contrivance, and the mere p^^gnia or trifles. The productions both of Epicharmus and Sophron reached a literary rank that attracted the strong admiration of Plato ; to us, except in isolated quotations, they are entirely lost. Turning to the other section of Greece, we can easily understand how the Megarian Farce would find its way into so closely neighbouring a territory as Attica. Once im- ported, the first signs of democratic handling we find impressed upon it are the ' improvements ' of Susarion • what these improvements were we have no clear information but there is nothing to suggest that they were such as to constitute a new species, and they probably consisted in the substitution of prepared plots for improvisation, and the adoption of some distinct metrical form. Such elementary comedy satisfied the wants of Attica during the eclipse of the democratic spirit in Athens under the tyranny of the Pisistratid family, a period followed by the concentration of all interest in the life and death struggle of Greece against the Persian invaders. In that struggle the Athenians, alike by their statesmanship and their sufferings, took the leading * Spudai zxi^ gdcci. OLD ATTIC COMEDY, 265 Oevio- ratic 'omedy : he im- provements of Su- sarion. . > position, and at its close there came, with the suddenness of Chap. VII. a revolution, a golden age for democracy with Athens at the head of the Greek world. Between the repulse of the cr7/ie Re- Persians and the close of the Peloponnesian war, which »aissanfe decided the material supremacy of the aristocratic over the and 0/d^^ democratic states, we have, crowded into little more than a ^^^^^ long lifetime, the whole of that Renaissance in political life, ^'"^ ^'' in thought, literature and art, which made Greece a leading factor in the world's history. With other democratic in- stitutions Comedy felt the general impulse, and the period is marked by the ' Old Attic Comedy ' - the first species that has become a part of permanent literature, laying the foundations of Comedy for the universal drama through its own vigour and the genius of its great master Aristo- phanes. The new species has two distinguishing features, both Its imi- derived directly from the democratic influences which ^f^^*! ^^ tras^ic surrounded it. The first is that Old Attic Comedy came to form. imitate the form of Tragedy. The key to this important literary revolution is given in the pregnant words of Aristotle, that * it was late before Comedy obtained a chorus from the archon.' The reader will recognise a technical term con- nected with the mode of bringing tragedies on to the stage : how wealthy citizens placed so many ' choruses ' at the disposal of the government which, through one of its magistrates, allotted these to the poets competing. Under the new state of things Comedy also, as a political weapon under a democratic system of government, is important enough to claim dignity as a state ceremonial. But there is more in the words of Aristotle than this. It will be noted that it was a chorus which Comedy obtained, not a comus. The chorus is a thing belonging to Tragedy, with which Comedy has no connection. But Tragedy was a generation ahead, and had become a public function with a prescribed machinery of initiation ; the composers of Comedy in their -«\ V i 266 ORIGIN OF COMEDY, OLD ATTIC COMEDY. 267 Chap. VII. sudden accession of importance thought it better, it would ~ seem, to adapt themselves to existing machinery rather than y suffer the delay of devising other machinery more appro- priate for the work of giving publicity and dignity to their branch. Accordingly they applied in due form for a 'chorus,' and, when they obtained it, naturalised it as well as they could in its uncongenial surroundings. Thus Comedy adopted bodily the form of Tragedy, the union (in brief) of lyric odes by a chorus in the orchestra with dramatic scenes by actors upon the stage. Development had for a time been superseded by imitation, as distinctly as when a savage people, visited by missionaries, adopt wholesale a western civilisation instead of developing it — as the western race itself had done — through many ages of time. But the chorus was felt to be a foreign element in the Comedy that had admitted it, and such Choral Comedy was largely a disturbing influence in the dramatic history of Greece. ^ license. The second main feature of Old Attic Comedy is the wild license that made it a fit reflection for the spirit of its age. The license extended to both matter and form. The subject-matter of Comedy in this stage was political satire, a term which in this connection must be understood to include social and religious questions, all of these being traversed by the same dividing line of con:;ervative and popular. Of the eleven comedies which Aristophanes contributed to this species four are direct manifestos of the peace party ; five deal with such social and religious topics as rationalism {The Clouds), political enterprise {The Birds), the forensic furore [The Wasps\ and socialism {The Women in Parlia- ment and Plutiis) ; and the remaining two are satires upon the man who may be called the poet laureate of the popular party \ Again, the license of Aristophanes' comedies is * Similar interference with public life may be inferred from the titles of lost plays by an earlier poet, Cratinus— the Aeschylus of Comedy: such are The Laws, The Boroughs, The Allied Cities, The Baptists. 1 I*! equally seen in their style: the broadest farce occupies the Chap.VII. main plot, and direct attacks are made throughout both on public characters and private individuals, the history of this species being marked by a continual passing and repealing of the decree 'against introducing persons by name into Comedy.' But all these points will be expounded in detail in subsequent chapters : it is necessary first to illustrate Choral Comedy by describing one of its masterpieces \ ^ It may be well to warn the English reader that the different manners and customs of the Greeks from those of our time make literal transla- tions of Aristophanes very gross reading to modem taste. See below, page 323. t i 1l VIII. Choral (or Old Aitic) Comkdv. The ^ Birds ^ of Aristophanes VIII. The Birds of Aristophanes is a brilliant and entirely good- Ch. VIII. humoured satire on speculative enterprise. It was com- posed in an age when enterprise and speculation were fdlao^T'- among the most powerful motives of mankind ; when Birds!;;: Athens, raised for a few years to a dizzy height of glory, ( was in touch through her unrivalled fleet with commercial and colonial enterprise all the world over, and a war on the largest scale was being managed by a debating society of the whole city, with every voter for a strategist. In this play a project far surpassing in wildness the wildest ideas of human speculators is transferred to bird life : and the working out of this scheme in detail constitutes the plot of the piece. The hero is the speculative man of genius Talkover*, and he is appropriately accompanied by one Sanguine^. Hoopoe king of the Birds, his valet and a Chorus of his subjects are the representatives of the bird world. Speaking generally, we may say that Comedy in adopting Scene and the form of Tragedy also adopted its stage arrangements ; ^^ologuc. though, as we might expect, these are in Comedy treated with more elasticity than in the graver branch of drama ^ There is the same orchestra and stage, and the scene, if no longer the conventional fa9ade of a palace,- yet regulariy represents some exterior. In the present play, which was 1 Peisthetaenis. 2 Euelpides. 3 The English reader will bring his mind into the right focus for appreciating Old Attic Comedy if he imagines a modern Pantomime into which is infused a strong element of the highest literary power. 272 CHORAL COMEDY. Ch^II. mounted with the most costly magnificence, the scene exhibits open country, rocky, with a grove in the centre. Talkover and Sanguine are discovered wandering about as if they had lost their way, one holding a jackdaw, the other a raven, to which they seem to be looking for direc- tions. Their conversation brings out how they are on their way to the realm of birds, and in search of king Hoopoe, who, as once the human king Tereus, but now transformed j (in one of Sophocles' tragedies) into a king of birds, is ^ / fitted to introduce them in this new realm. It is naturally I ^^ Philocrates (the fashionable poulterer of Athens) that * they have applied for guides, and these two birds he has assigned them as conductors are now betraying their trust by giving hopelessly contradictory directions.— Suddenly turning to the spectators in the theatre Sanguine begins directly to explain the plot : how he and his companion are emigrating to a new country,— not that Athens is not the most glorious city in the world (in which to lose your fortune by lawsuits), but they prefer comfort to glory. Talkover interrupts, perceiving that the birds now agree to point in one direction. In this direction they advance, and knock at the bare rock : the valet to the king of birds appears to open the door. There is much mutual embarrass- ment ; gradually the valet explains how when Tereus was metamorphosed into a hoopoe he made a special condition that his faithful servant should be converted into a bird- page. After some hesitation king Hoopoe is summoned from the siesta which he is taking after a meal of myrtle- berries and ants. The two men are terribly alarmed at his enormous beak and crest : Hoopoe seems to feel this as a slight, and lays the blame on Sophocles who so dramatised him. When he has heard his visitors' story, he enquires why they have come to him for information. Because (they respond) he was a man, and so are they ; he used to run in debt, and so do they ; he used to chuckle when he evaded \ THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES, 273 paying, and so do they ! Moreover in all their flying about (pH. VIII. the birds must have discovered a city of ease, if there be one in the world : — a city where there will be no strife, save when a host angrily bids you come earlier to a feast, or a father reproaches you for not courting his pretty daughter. The conversation is running on, garnished with the usual topical hits and personalities, when Talkover is suddenly struck with a profound thought — what the birds might do if they only realised their position. At the risk of screwing Hoopoe's neck off he makes him look up, down, all round, and tells him he may become the practical ruler of all he sees. For the birds hold a strategic position that commands the universe— the line of passage between heaven and earth. If they found a city and fortify their atmosphere they will be able to bring both gods and men to their own terms : from men they can hide heaven like a locust cloud, while if the gods prove stubborn, the birds can starve them out by intercepting the smoke of human sacrifices on which they feed. Hoopoe swears ' by snares, meshes, and nets ' it is the best idea he ever heard, and prepares to summon his subjects in order that they may learn the scheme from the projector's own lips. The prologue has served its usual purpose of leading Invocation up dramatically to the extravagant idea which is to be the ^/"^f Q>v basis of the whole plot. The next section of the play is the '^'''^* Invocation of the Chorus \ The proper musical accompani- ment of the comic drama was the flute ; one of the attrac- tions of this particular performance was a flutist prima donna, long absent from Athens and to be heard for the first time in her re-appearance this day. She was easily linked to the plot : in place of a human flourish of trumpets her call was to summon king Hoopoe's subjects. Accord- ingly he goes to a part of the scene supposed to represent ^ Not distinguished in ancient technical nomenclature from the rest of the prologue, though the lyrical passages were asmata or songs. \ I 274 CHORAL COMEDY, Ch. VIII. the nightingale's abode and calls upon her to exert her art. Up from thy slumbers, mate of mine : Let forth the flood of strains divine, As when, the wonder of thy throat. Thou trillest Sorrow's bubbling note, For Itys wailed with many a tear By thee and me. The warbling clear Forth of the yew-tree's close-leaved tresses Issues, and mounting upward presses To Joves own seats ; when golden-haired Apollo hears. To answer dared, His ivory-fashioned lyre he takes, And such soul-touching chords awakes, That, as the melody advances. The gods move forward to their dances; And lips immortal deign to borrow And sing with thee In harmony A marvellous sweet song of sorrow. From behind the scenes is heard the nightingale's call in the form of an elaborate flute-performance. Then cross- ing the stage Hoopoe turns to another part of the scene, and himself in lyrical invocation summons his subjects. Epo po po po po po po po po po po po poi. Holloa ! holloa I what ho ! what ho ! Hither haste, my plume-partakers; Come many, come any That pasture on the farmers' well-sown acres, Tribes countless that on barley feed, And clans that gather out the seed; Come, alert upon the wing, Dulcet music uttering: Ye that o'er the furrowed sod Twitter upon every clod, Making all the air rejoice With your soft and slender voice: Tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, Ye that feast on garden fruits, Nestling 'midst the ivy shoots: 275 Ch. VIII. THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. Ye that all the mountains throng, Olive-croppers, arbute-loppers, Haste and fly to greet my song. Trioto, trioto, totobrix! \'e that o'er the marshy flats Swallow down the shrill-mouthed gnats ; Ye that haunt the deep-dew'd ground, Marathon's sweet meads around, Ouzel, and thou of the speckled wing, Hazelhen, hazelhen, speed while I sing. Come many, come any, With the halcyon brood that sweep Surges of the watery deep, Come and list to novel words, Which to hear, from far and near We gather all the tribes of neck-extending birds. Here is arrived a sharp old man Of revolutionary mind. To revolutionary deeds inclined ; Come all, and listen to his plan. Strange cries of birds are heard in the distance, and Parode or gradually we get a grand pantomimic tour-de-force which ^^^7^"'" constitutes the parode ^ or chorus-entry. Single figures " '^ appear on the stage, and later the twenty-four members of the Chorus enter the orchestra, all as birds got up in splendid array, and on a colossal scale. The scene is conveyed to a reader in the free movement of accelerated verse, as the entries made singly or in groups give scope to the human on-lookers for comments, which include the usual bad puns and personal applications to individuals present in the audience. A flamingo is identified by his flame colour ; another figure is a ludicrous reproduction of Hoopoe himself, but 'Hoopoe Junior' has had all his feathers stripped off by the lady-birds (like Callias) ; a ^ The structural divisions of Ancient Drama as recognised by critics of antiquity are not always mutually exclusive. Strictly speaking the parode should not begin until the great body of the chorus appear in the orchestra : but the dramatic scene of the chorus-entry really commences at this point T 2 276 CHORAL COMEDY. CH^nr. pompous-treading crested cock is pronounced a turbaned Mede : and a party-coloured Gobbler is a double of Kleony- mus. But at last the Chorus appear in a whole cloud that hides the entrance. Hoopo€. Hither is a partridge coming, there a hazelhen is shewn : Lpon this side is a widgeon; upon that a halcvon. Talkover. What's the one we see behind her ? f^oopoe. That one ? Razorbill's the name laikoicr. Razorbill s a bird then ? Sanguine. Call it Sporgilus, 'twill be the same Hoopoe. Here s an owl. Talkover. What's this yon tell me ? W ho to Athens brought an owl ? Hoopoe. Pye and turtle, lark and pigeon, goat-sucker and guinea-fowl. Hawk and falcon, cushat, cuckoo, redshank, redpole, come in view, Gannet, kestrel, diver, osprey, flycatcher and woodchat too Sanguine. Merrily, merrily come the birds, merrily come the blackbirds all : What a twittering ! what a fluttering ! what a variety of squall ! But the scene appears less merry to Sanguine when he realises that the huge-beaked creatures are behaving in a threatening fashion to their visitors : for the birds do^'not fall in with their monarch's views, but outbursts of lyric excitement convey their consternation at being betrayed to their natural enemies mankind. Upon them! at them! in a ring Encircle them with bloody force : Make onslaught with embattled wing! For these two men must die of course, And glut my beak with prey. No gloomy glen is there, nor airv cloud. Nor hoary sea. that can their persons shroud, -And let them get away. Pluck them, tear them ; bite them, scare them : do not let us be afraid. - Where is he who should command us ? let him lead the light brigade. Talkover and Sanguine have the presence of mind to arm V THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 277 I'N themselves with a spit for spear, and vinegar-cruet and bowl Cu. Vin. for shields. But before the hostile forces meet, Hoopoe manages to calm down his comrades' suspicions ; they gradually assume a more peaceful attitude, and prepare to listen to Talkover's proposal— the metre reflecting the change of mind by settling down into blank verse. An attentive audience before him, Talkover plunges into Episode I. anapaests. I'm filled with the subject and long to proceed My rhetorical leaven is ready to knead. He puts his project with all possible formality : Sanguine relieving the effect by persistent interruptions and farcical comments. Talkover begins with the ancient dignity of the birds. As evidence of their antiquity he quotes Aesop's fable of the lark that buried his father in his head— clearly because there was as yet no earth in which to make the grave. [Sanguine adds that Bury Head ^ was named after this circumstance.] Then the authority of the birds is seen in the way the working classes all obey the cock's call to labour in the morning. [Sanguine tells how he once go up at cock-crow and was robbed for his pains.] Then Talkover dwells upon the wrongs done by men to the birds : they snare and trap them, and take them in heaps ; they buy and sell them, and feel them all over ; they not only roast them, but, adding insult to injury, pour over them scalding sauce ! This final touch brings a burst of lyric indignation from the chorus, which gives a break in the long anapaestic scene before the orator proceeds to his proposed remedy. Then I move, that the birds shall in common repair To a centrical point, and encamp in the air; And entrench and enclose it, and fortify there: 1 Professor Kennedy's ingenious modernisation for A>///a/.^' = Heads, the name of an Attic borough. I Ch. VIII. Parabasis. 278 CHORAL COMEDY. And build up a rampart, impregnably strong, Enormous in thickness, enormously long; Bigger than Babylon, solid and tall. With bricks and bitumen, a wonderful wall. Then they must send heralds to the gods and dictate terms. Men shall hereafter sacrifice to birds at the same time as to gods : a sacrifice to Venus shall be accompanied with an offering of wheat to the coot, or if a ram is offered to Jove a male ant must be presented to king Wren. If the gods resist, declare a Sacred War, and blockade them when they wish to make their love visits to earth. If mankind resist, swallows can pick up all their seed, crows peck out the eyes of cattle, and locusts eat up the vines ; on the other hand, if they are obedient, the birds can offer men good 'auguries,' pointing out treasures, and favourable seasons for sailing, besides granting a century or two of long life out of their own endless years. The metre quickens as Talkover pero- rates on the economy of having birds for deities : there will be no expensive temples to rear, but the new gods will hve cheaply, Lodging, without shame or scorn, In a maple, or a thorn ; The most exalted and divine Will have an olive for his shrine. The Chorus accept with lyric enthusiasm : then blank verse expresses the preparations for carrying the scheme out. But first the two human friends of the birds are taken inside to be feasted and furnished with wings. The Chorus have requested that the nightingale might be sent out to enter- tain them in the interval of waiting. The flute-girl then makes her appearance on the stage, in bird costume com- plete to the beaked mask : but, as a mask presented diffi- culties to a performer on a wind instrument, it is contrived that Sanguine breaks the mask under pretence of kissing, and the audience thus see the face of their favourite. The play has reached its parabasis. This parabasis was THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES, 279 a singular institution of Ancient Comedy, a counterpart to Cfi.VIII. the point in the primitive comus-procession where the re- vellers broke off their chaunting in order to extemporise satire. So the parabasis is essentially a digression, covering an interval in the action : the word ' parabasis ' conveys both this, and also the way in which the Chorus — as would be natural in such a digression — * stepped from ' their proper position in the orchestra during the dramatic action, and faced the audience while addressing them directly. This portion of Comedy is complete in itself, with a regular structure of its own, being divided between short choral hymns, more or less infected with comic spirit, and long addresses in special metres, handling political or social topics without regard to the characterisation in which the Chorus appear, or humorously utilising this characterisation. The present example is, however, exceptional in treatment. It is complete in structure, but its subject-matter is strictly relevant to the plot : the poet forgets to digress, so absorbed is he in the brilliant idea of his bird scheme, and the subtil- ties of fancy and ingenuity by which he is to make it seem probable. The first part of the parabasis — the Lyric Introduction — hnc intra- '' diiction y or is a summons to the flutist to perform. comniaUon) O my ownie, O my brownie, Bird of birds the dearest. Voice that mingling with my lays Ever was the clearest ; Playmate of my early days, Still to me the nearest. Nightingale, thus again Do I meet thee, do I greet thee, Bringing to me thy sweet strain ! Skilfullest of artists thou To soft trillings of the flute Vernal melodies to suit. Our homily demands thy prelude now. Accordingly an elaborate flute solo, the second in the play, \ ; 280 CHORAL COMEu/. CJi. VIII. parabasis proper succeeds. Then (forming the Parabasis Proper) we have a long address in anapaestic measure, setting forth the claim of the Chorus for supremacy over mankind. Ho I ye men, dim-lived by nature, closest to the leaves in feature, Feeble beings, clay-create, shadowy tribes inanimate, Wingless mortals, in a day, doleful, dream-like, swept away : Note the lessons that we give, we the immortals form'd to live, We the ethereal, the unaged, with undying plans engaged. Utilising the theory of a reigning philosopher, which evolved the universe out of wind (air and motion) as the embryo of all things, the Chorus substitute ' egg ' for embryo, and so make out a bird-origin for the world. Chaos was and Night of yore, in the time all times before, And black Erebus beside Tartarus extending wide. Earth, Air, Heaven were yet unknown, in huge Erebus alone first, our oldest legend says, black-wing'd Night a wind-egg lays ; Which, as circling seasons move, brings to birth the charmer Love, Bright with golden wings behind, semblant to the whirling wind. In the vast Tartarean shade him the dull dark Chaos made Sire of us : we nestled there till we s.iw the light of air. Race immortal was there none till Love's sorcery was begun : But, when all things mix d in motion, rose the sky, the earth, the ocean. And the blessed gods were made, everlasting, undecayM. Again, playing upon the idea of ' augury,' the Chorus re- present birds as the source of all material comfort. Mortal men for their convenience owe to us wellnigh everything. First we announce to them the Seasons, such as Autumn, Winter and Spring. When the crane departs for Lybia then the sowing they know is to do ; Then the seaman, hanging his rudder, settles to sleep for the whole night through. Then should they weave a coat for Orestes, lest in the cold he be driven to steal. Afterwards comes the kite, another change in the time of year to reveal ; 4^ t THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 281 Then from the sheep you take its spring-fleece ; * Ch. VIII, after that comes the swallow to say Sell your great-coat, and provide some dress that is fit for midsummer-day. Ammon, Delphi, and Dodona, Phoebus Apollo are we to you. *What do the birds say?' is the question first to be answered whatever you do. Whether it be to buy or sell, or earn your living or take to a wife, Everything is a * bird ' to you that betrays the shadow of coming life ; A phrase, a sneeze, two people meeting, a sound, a slave, an ass is a ' bird.' So, that we are your prophet Apollo, is too clear for another word. Take us as gods, and for your uses You will have in us Prophets, Muses, Winter, Summer, wind and weather, To your liking altogether. We shall not retire for state Up to the clouds like Jove the Great : But residing handily by you We shall hear and not deny you All that you may wish to possess ; Health and wealth and happiness. Length of days, a state of peace, Laughter that shall never cease. Constant feasting, dances, youth. With milk of birds : so that in truth You and your heirs Shall have no cares But how to live On the very abundance of wealth we give. The long address which formed the bulk of a parabasis is broken by short lyrics, two such interruptions making a strophe with its antistrophe. The strophe comes at this stropht point, invoking a Muse, and having point given to it by re- producing the lofty rhythms of the old poet Phrynichus, amid an accompaniment of bird-twittering (which the reader must imagine). Ch. viti. 282 CHORAL COMEDY, Muse, that in the deep recesses Of the forest's dreary shade, Vocal with our wild addresses. Or in the lonely lowly glade, Attending near, art pleased to hear Our humble bill, tuneful and shrill. When to the name of Omnipotent Pan Our notes we raise, or sing in praise Of mighty Cybele, from whom we began, Mother of Nature, and every creature, Winged or unwinged, of birds or man : Aid and attend, and chant with me The music of Phrynichus, open and plain. The first that attempted a loftier strain, Ever busy like the bee With the sweets of harmony. a/tcr-speech Thcii the addicss to the audience is resumed ^ (in what is rhema) callcd the After-Specch), and in pure farcical style are put the conveniences of birds' ways. People with whom the law interferes in this world might be free among the birds. Here by law 'tis very bad if a youngster beats his dad : There with us 'tis usual rather, even grand, to cuff a father, Strutting up, and crying, 'Sir, if you'll fight me, lift your spur.' antistrophe Then the antistrophe ^, taking up from the strophe, finds a bird analogy for Phrynichus in the swan-song. Thus the swans in chorus follow. On the mighty Thracian stream, Hymning their eternal theme. Praise to Bacchus and Apollo : The welkin rings with sounding wings, With songs and cries and melodies. Up to the thunderous aether ascending : Whilst all that breathe on earth beneath, The beasts of the wood, the plain and the flood, In panic amazement are crouching and bending W^ith the awful qualm of a sudden calm Ocean and air in silence blending, ' For variety of metre anapaests have changed to trochaics. ^ In the original the metres of the two passages are antistrophic. 283 Ch. VIH. I THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. The ridge of Olympus is sounding on high. Appalling with wonder the lords of the sky. And the Muses and Graces enthroned in their places Join in the solemn symphony. The After-Response continues the After-Speech, with further a/ter.re- conveniences of birds' ways. A spectator, who is tired of the tntepir.'' play might, if he had wings, just fly home, get a bit and snack, '^^''""'^ and come back fresh. Flying oft with good success crowns a lover's happiness. If he spies his rival here, in the senatorial tier, He can spread his wings and fly, love-directed through the sky, Keep his happy tryst, and then fly into his seat again. The play resumes as Talkover and Sanguine reappear in Episode I/. bird costume, and discuss with the Chorus the founding of the new city. First its name is after deliberation settled — Cuckoo-borough-on-Cloud \ Preparation is made for the solemn initiatory sacrifices : but these are perpetually in- terrupted by fresh arrivals of persons anxious to have a hand in or to oppose the new project. A Priest comes first, with a scraggy goat : he is allowed to officiate. He has scarcely commenced when a Poet follows, reciting fragments of lyrics he has begun to compose on the new city. As with Pindar's, his sublime strains contain hints that gifts would not be un- acceptable, and Talkover manages to gratify him econom- ically by making the Priest strip and give up his garments to the Poet. Then follow, one after another, a Prophet with a bag of oracles, an Astronomer with instruments for street- mensuration, a Commissioner from the mother-state to the new colony, a Hawker of Decrees— all of whom are made to furnish ' knock-about business,' being first * chaffed ' and then thrashed by Talkover off the stage. But finally the latter has to give up and finish his sacrifice indoors. His retirement makes a second interval, filled by a second Second Parabasis only partially complete. Without any Introduction ^^^'^^^•^■'•»"- * Nephelococcuguia. 284 CHORAL COMEDY. Ch. VIII. or Parabasis Proper, it commences with a Strophe, which puts strophe ^^^ rights of birds, in queer metre supposed to represent birds' attempts at human verse. Henceforth — our worth, Our right — our might, Shall be shown, Acknowledged, known ; Mankind shall raise Prayers, vows, praise, To the birds alone. Our employ is to destroy The vermin train, Ravaging amain Your fruits and grain : We're the wardens Of your gardens. To watch and chase The wicked race, And cut them shorter, In hasty slaughter. fpeZ'h ior ^" theAfter-Speech the Chorus attack (in accelerated rhythm) epirrhema) their mortal enemy— the fashionable poulterer Philocrates : a reward is promised if he is brought in alive or dead,— He, that ortolans and quails to market has presumed to bring. And the sparrows, six a penny, tied together in a string. With a wicked art retaining sundry doves in his employ, Fastened, with their feet in fetters, forced to serve for a decoy. Also, all spectators keeping birds in cages are bidden to let anthtraphe them free. The Antistrophe pictures the allurements of bird life. Blest are they, The birds, alway: With perfect clothing, Fearing nothing, Cold or sleet Or summer heat. As it chances, As he fancies. Each his own vagary follows, Dwelling in the dells or hollows; V THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 285 When with eager, weary strain The shrilly grasshoppers complain, Parched upon the sultry plain, Maddened with the raging heat, We secure a cool retreat In the shady nooks and coves, Recesses of the sacred groves ; Many a herb, and many a berry, Serves to feast and make us merry. The After-Response promises bird-gifts, and threatens bird- penalties, to the judges, according as the play shall win or lose the prize. The next episode is made by the entrance of Talkover to announce the sacritices as propitious. He is joined by a messenger, who arrives breathless with tidings of the mar- vellous rapidity with which the new city had been built. Thirty thousand cranes (it might be more) travelled from the African desert with stones in their gizzards ; these were worked into shape by stone-curlews and stone-chatterers ; sand-martins and mud-larks presided over the department of the mortar, moor-fowl and river-hens bringing water to temper it, while ten thousand storks with their beaks upheaved clay for bricks.— But who could serve the mortar and carry it ? Obviously carrion-crows and carrier-pigeons. — How were the hods loaded ? Geese with their webbed feet trampled the mortar, and then laid it in the hods quite handy. [Quite footy, ejaculates Talkover.] Ducks clambered up the ladders like duck-legged bricklayers' apprentices ; the carpentry was done by yellowhammers and wood-peckers, their hatchet- beaks keeping up a din like that of a ship-yard. The whole is complete : gates up, beats paced, the bell borne, and the beacons set. The strength of these fortifications has scarcely been described when a second messenger enters with news that the blockade has already been broken by Iris, messenger- maiden of the gods : thirty thousand light-armed hawks have Cii.VIll. a/tcr-re- sponse ior anttpir- rhema) Episode in. r \ 286 CHORAL COMEDY, ^ "jZ!"' ^^^" ^^"^ ^^ pursuit of her. After a brief strophe of defiance by the Chorus, Iris is seen flying across the stage in a grotesque costume that suggests a ship in full sail. Talkover hails her and bids her stop, while a guard of birds enforces his command. A dialogue follows, contemptuous on both sides. Iris is on her father Jupiter's business, and scouts the idea of asking passports from any one. Talkover says that if he did his duty he would have her put to death. Iris. But I'm immortal. Talkover. That would make no difference. Finally, as he cannot stop the intruder, Talkover shoo's her off* like a trespassing bird, to her great indignation.— Then enters the Herald who had been sent to mankind, and reports their complete and joyful submission : birds have become all the rage, he says ; and Athenian family names are punned upon to show this.— The metre breaks into lyrics as Talkover and the Chorus prepare bundles of wings for the mortals who will presently come to claim the rights of citizenship : the detail is no doubt introduced for the sake of a great colour effect in the heaps of feathers strewn over the long stage.— There is one more incident in this long episode, when there arrive, successively, a would-be Parricide, a dithyrambic Poet, and an Informer, all claiming wings and the bird-franchise. To keep up the idea of reversing all things the first is fairly received and given a military com- mand, while the other two, after some badgering, are horse- whipped back again. The breaks between the episodes are for the remainder of the play filled by Choral Interludes, as in Tragedy. The interludes are irrelevant to the plot ; their subject- matter consists of what was a favourite form of wit in ancient comedy -the surprise, by which a speaker setting out to describe some marvel in heroic terms suddenly converts the marvel into something highly familiar. For the first interlude Choral In ierlude. V? - THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 287 strophe the stock taunt of the comic poets against the politician Ch. VIli. Cleonymus— in whose history there was an unfortunate incident of a flight from battle without a shield— does duty once more in the new form of a botanical wonder. We have flown, and we have run, Viewing marvels, many a one, In every land beneath the sun. But the strangest sight to see Was a huge exotic tree Growing without heart or pith, Weak and sappy like a withe, But, with leaves and boughs withal, Comely, flourishing, and tall. This the learned all ascribe To the sycophantic tribe; But the natives there, like us, Call it a Cleonymus. In the spring's delightful hours It blossoms with rhetoric flowers. I saw it standing in the field, With leaves in figure like a shield : On the first tempestuous day I saw it — cast those leaves away ! The antistrophe makes a similar stroke at the famous foot- antistroph pad of the neighbourhood. There lies a region out of sight, Far within the realm of night, Far from torch and candle light. There in feasts of meal and wine Men and demigods may join, There they banquet, and they dine, Whilst the light of day prevails. At sunset their assurance fails; If any mortal then presumes, Orestes, sallying from the tombs. Like a fierce heroic sprite. Assaults and strips the lonely wight. Then follows an episode illustrating the mythological form Episode of burlesque that has been before noticed as a characteristic ^^' of Sicilian Comedy. Prometheus enters, disguised with 288 CHORAL COMEDY, Ch. VIII. mufflers, and carrying an umbrella. He appears in great terror lest Zeus should see him, and does not feel comfortable till he has put up his umbrella between himself and heaven. He is acting his traditional part as the friend of mortals, and comes to give them secret information, that the gods are dreadfully distressed by the blockade, and, if the birds hold out, must yield to their terms. But they must be sure to in- sist upon one condition — that Jupiter gives up Queenship ', the damsel who keeps his thunder-closet and looks after his whole government : she will make a nice wife for Talkover. Amongst other things Prometheus has announced that an embassy from the gods to the bird-city is on its way. The Choral In- interval of waiting for its arrival is filled by a half ode— a terlnde: i r i • i i strophe. Strophe, of which the antistrophe comes at the conclusion of the visit. The strophe is another case of surprise wit, this time attacking Socrates and his friends. Beyond the navigable seas, Amongst the fierce Antipodes, There lies a lake, obscure and holy. Lazy, deep, melancholy, Solitary, secret, hidden, Where baths and washing are forbidden. Socrates, beside the brink, Summons from the murky sink Many a disembodied ghost ; And Pisander, reached the coast, To raise the spirit that he lost ; With a victim, strange and new, A gawky camel, which he slew, Like Ulysses, — whereupon The grizzly sprite of Chserephon Flitted round him, and appeared. With his eyebrows and his beard, Like a strange infernal fowl. Half a vampire, half an owl. Episode \\ The Ambassadors from Heaven now arrive — Neptune, Hercules, and the Triballian Deity. The last is treated as * Basileia. THE BIRDS OF ARISTOPHANES. 289 a barbarian ally of the gods, a comrade of whom the other Ch. VIII. two are ashamed. He speaks unintelligibly, and will not keep his robes straight. Neptune, of course, is of the highest divine family, while Hercules is one who becomes ambassador for the sake of the feasting he will get. Talk- over understands the respective positions of the ambassadors, and affects not to notice their approach, while he is giving orders about cooking, the steam of which is making Hercules anxious for a speedy settlement. Under such circumstances they quickly agree to terms and form an alliance : the bar- barian assenting in gibberish which is interpreted as approval. At the last moment Talkover recollects the condition about Queenship : the very mention of this makes Neptune break off the negotiations. Talkover calmly goes on with his cooking, while hungry Hercules protests. But Neptune rallies him upon risking his own reversion in Jupiter's sovereignty for the sake of a meal. Talkover hears this and, taking Hercules aside, warns him that his uncle is making a tool of him : that he will get nothing in the way of inheritance from Jupiter since he is illegitimate— the * son of a foreign woman.' He appeals to him as to whether his father has ever shown him to the wardmen, or taken the other legal steps for making him his heir. Hercules admits that nothing of the kind has ever been done, and indignantly makes common cause with the birds. Thus two of the embassy are disagreed : the casting-vote lies with the barbarian, who is appealed to for his opinion. Triballian. Me tell you, pretty girl, grand, beautiful queen. Give him to birds. Hercules. Ay, give her up, you mean. Neptune. Mean ! he knows nothing about it. He means nothing But chattering like a magpie. Talkover. Weii, * the magpies.' He means, the magpies or the birds in general. Neptune is forced to be content with this : the treaty is made, and the ambassadors go in to the feast. u / 290 CHORAL COMEDY. ^"1^"' ^^^ remainder of the interlude follows, another treat- Choral In- "^^"^ ^^ familiar things under the guise of foreign wonders. terlude anti- strophe. Exodus. Along the Sycophantic shore, And where the savage tribes adore The waters of the Clepsydra *, There dwells a nation, stem and strong, Armed with an enormous tongue, Wherewith they smite and slay. With their tongues they reap and sow, And gather all the fruits that grow. The vintage and the grain; Gorgias is their chief of pride, And many more there be beside. Of mickle might and main. Good they never teach, nor show But how to work men harm and woe. Unrighteousness and wrong; And hence the custom doth arise, W'hen beasts are slain in sacrifice, W'e sever out the tongue. All is now ready for the finale, which is a grand spec- tacular tour-de-force, representing the union of Talkover and Queenship, and elaborated with all the gorgeous display of the highest tragedies. Talkover is seen descending from heaven, with Queenship by his side, and the thunderbolt of Zeus in his hand, amid subtle odours rising from the wreathed smoke that curls in the tranquil air. The Chorus raise the Marriage Anthem, Hymen's songs of glee, the bridal carols sung before when the fates allied Hera to the king of Olympus : Golden-wing'd the blooming Love His chariot lightly reining drove, and all sang Hymen Hymenaeus ! Talkover bows his thanks, and adds his quota to the triumph strains in the hurled bolt of Zeus with its peals of thunder and rush of rain. Finally the Chorus are invited to join the procession, and with fresh triumph-shouts they unite in escorting the hero up to heaven. *- The water-clock of the law-courts, naturally associated with rhetoric. I IX. Choral (or Old Attic) Comedy as A Dramatic Species. 1. Structure of Choral Comedy. 2. The Co7mc Chorus. 3. The subject-matter of Aristophanes. 4- The Dramatic Element in Old Attic Comedy. U 2 IX. 1. structure of Choral Comedy. The Old Attic play, of which The Birds has been given Chap iv as a type, may be best designated, when viewed as a species of the universal drama, by the name 'Choral Comedy.' ckoral Its distmction consisted in the combination, under excep- ^^^'^'6^. tional circumstances, of what was in the highest degree comic matter with a chorus and details of choral form which were borrowed from Tragedy, and which for a long time existed as a disturbing force in the development of Comedy. From the nature of its origin this Choral Comedy might be expected to present a highly complex structure. The primitive Comedy was already double in its component elements- that is to say, satiric ////.r dramatic. It developed the new species by a fresh adaptation to the form of Tragedy. Again, tragic poetry was composed in a variety of metres • m the combination with Comedy not only were these metres absorbed, but there was further a tendency to create modi- fications of them fitted to the new surroundings. Such various tendencies are sure to be reflected in variations of outward form, and the first step in the exposition of Old Attic Comedy must be to review its dramatic and its metrical structure. The dramatic analysis of Aristophanes' plays reveals the i. structural elements that belong to Tragedy, with such ^;;^,7^^'' ^ variations as are readily understood. The Prologue is the aZal name for all that precedes the appearance of the Chorus. Thl% It includes one, and sometimes more than one, dramatic lo^ie.'"" scene. A change of scene may occur in the course of the I 294 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. prologue, as in that to the Ackarntans, which opens in the parHament place of Athens, and closes in the country near The Parade Old Honesty's farm. The Parode, or Chorus-Entry, may be or Chorus- . , 1 •, j £„fry. ^^ more than a joyous procession, or a hostile demonstra- tion like that of the colliers from Acharnae village, who run in to stone the man that has sought to make peace. It is however usually seized upon as an opportunity for special masque or pantomime effects : great scenic strokes are evi- dently intended by the first appearance of the Clouds with their flimsy upper garments and black trains for shadows, the Birds with their terrible beaks, the enormous stings and impossibly thin waists of the Wasp-Jur}^ while a similar appeal is made to the ear by the croaking of the unseen Frogs over whose waters Bacchus rows. Attach- By strict definition the parode ought to immediately fol- "cKor^i^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ prologue : in reality, however, we find an intermediate section of the play worth distinguishing from the prologue, and the function of this is the attachment of the chorus to the rest of the play. As the chorus was an element foreign to Comedy it is not surprising that we should find, in the course of the prologue, some distinct device preparing the way for the introduction of this novelty. The Attachment of the Chorus is never omitted \ Sometimes it consists in nothing more than a call for help : as where the Sausage- seller flies at the appearance of Cleon, and the slaves call the knights to the rescue, or where Trygacus learns in heaven where Peace is to be found, and cries out to the Country Party for assistance in recovering her I Other cases show more contrivance. In the Achartiians Amphitheus * The only case at all analogous in Tragedy is the Ocdiptis at Colonus (36-116), and perhaps the Children of Hercules (from 69) where there is a call for help. Such summons to join in rejoicing or lamenting as is found in the Bacchanals, Iphigenia among the Tauri, and Daughters of Troy is rather a commencement of the Chorus-Entry than a preparation for it. '^ Knights, 242 ; Peace, 296. DRAMATIC STRUCTURE, 295 tells breathlessly the escape he has had from the angry col- Chap. IX. Hers as he journeyed, laden with truces : at the conclusion of the incident these colliers appear in the orchestra. In the IVasps Hate-Cleon warns the slaves who are watching his father that his fellow-jurors will be coming at daybreak to fetch him. In the Mysteries not only is the whole pro- logue a preparation for the festival, but further the signal is seen on the temple of Ceres some lines before the Chorus of Mystics enter. Similarly in the Lysistrata, near the close of the prologue, a shout behind the scenes is under- stood as a signal that the Acropolis has been seized, and the conspirators discuss the probable rush of men to fire and force the door, which (after a change of scene) takes place. In the long introductory scenes to the Frogs, the hero has, at an early point, enquired from Hercules directions for his journey, and heard, with other information, about a joyous company with torches and flutes who will point out the way : these appear later on, and, as the Band of the Initiated, constitute the Chorus to the play. The Wonmt in Parlia- ment brings the individuals who are to form the Chorus upon the stage first as conspirators ; we watch the course of their conspiracy, and then see them descend to the orchestra and commence their choral function. The hero of the Plutus, as soon as the god shows signs of accepting his in- vitation, sends his slave to fetch his neighbours to do the visitor due honour, and these neighbours appear presently as the Chorus ^ In all these cases the contrivance for in- troducing the Chorus amounts to no more than a detail j or Invoca- in two plays it is enlarged into an elaborate Invocation. In '^°'^- the Birds attention has already been directed to the im- portant section of the play made up of the appeal to the nightingale, the music supposed to represent her response, ^ Acharnians, 177 and 204; Wasps, 214, 230; Mysteries, 277, 312 ; Lysistrata, 240, 254; Frogs, 154, 324; Plutiis, 222, 257. For the Women in Parliament, compare 282, 289, and 478. - Chap. IX. Odesy Epi- sodes, and Kxodus. Nexus of dramatic scenes and lyrics. The Para- basis or Dramatic Digression. 296 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. and the subsequent summons of the epops to his subjects ; this and the similar Invocation of the Clouds by Socrates contain some of the loftiest lyric poetry that even Aristo- phanes has composed \ From the entry of the Chorus a comedy consists in the alternation of Episodes and Choral Odes to any number of each. The Episodes, as in Tragedy, include forensic con- tests, rheses, and messengers' speeches, and stage-episodes transacted in the temporary absence of the chorus. The final episode is called an Exodus : it is itself full of choral effects, and usually works up to a spectacular finale. As in Tragedy, the choral element in Comedy not only consists of lyric interludes, but further invades the episodes in the form of monodies and concertos. It is not surprising to find in Comedy, as compared with Tragedy, a tendency to diminish the length of choral odes, and further, to substitute for these shorter lyric pieces, not so much separating episodes as breaking up a long episode into sections and so relieving its tediousness. Accordingly among the structural parts of Comedy we ought to reckon the Nexus of episodes and lyric breaks woven into a single prolonged scene. One such nexus represents the women's Mysteries and covers five hundred lines ; another example is the contest between Aeschylus and Euripides in the Frogs, and is longer still by a hundred and fifty lines. One more structural element of Comedy has yet to be mentioned, both remarkable in itself and peculiar to the Old Attic stage. This is the Parabasis, already illustrated in the preceding chapter— one of the lyric interludes in which the Chorus turned round, severing in part their connection with the play, and directly addressed the audi- ence : the word 'parabasis' may be literally translated as 'digression.' The Parabasis is one of the curiosities of literary evolution : alike its regular structure and its * Birds, 209-262 ; Clouds, 263-274. DRAMATIC STRUCTURE. 297 ■rregulant, es reflect the play of forces which developed chap ik ancient comedy. In the main, the digression is to the — form of Primitive Comedy : like it the Parabasis consists ff 'f"/, essentially of two parts-a long satiric tirade, broken by ^^^l^ '" lyric invocations of deities. It also reflects the revolution ^"^''^■ which raised Comedy to the dignity of a national festival by the new importance of satire as a political weapon • hence the satire of the Parabasis is not the iambic lampoon on individuals, but the handling of public questions in somewhat more elevated metres. But Comedy, before reachmg its Old Attic form, had passed through, as we have seen, an intervening stage, in which the satirisers adopted a particular characterisation. This period in the history of Comedy is also reflected in the Parabasis, at different parts of which the Chorus either drop their character or resume it in order to utilise it for their satiric purpose As already remarked, the Parabasis consists fundamentally ^,,„,-„, , of two elements, the satire and the lyric invocation. ThJPsrf^l latter is regarded as an interruption, dividing the satire ''"'"'""'■'■ m two parts : the law of comic variety would soon differen- tiate these two satiric sections as the Parabasis Proper and the After-Speech, the first in an anap^stic metre modified from the marching rhythm of Tragedy, the latter in the accelerated (or trochaic) rhythm which even in Tragedy was the metre of bustle and movement. Further, as the lyrics would be antiphonal, it would be a natural step to separate the antistrophe from the strophe, thus breaking up the later section of satire into an After-Speech and After-Response. Ihese five parts make up the structure of a Parabasis : the Parabasis Proper, the Strophe of Invocation, the After- Speech, the Antistrophe, and the After-Response— not to mention a brief Introduction that dismisses the previous scene or bespeaks attention '. for ^t^r R« "^ "'T "' ^^''■'■''"^ f°' After-Speech, Ant-efirrhema lor After-Response, Commation for Introduction. 298 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. It is only in the Parabasis Proper — and, where this is The Para- ^^^^^'^Sj ^^ ^he After- Speech which supplies its place — that basis the Chorus rise to the degree of seriousness implied in their roper. dropping all characterisation \ and speaking directly in the author's name. This section is so entirely identified with anapaestic metre that the Introduction several times speaks of preparing for anapaests. The subject-matter of the Parabasis Proper is literary satire. Here we find Aris- tophanes, as in a modern preface, giving information about previous works of his, and remonstrating with the public for unfavourable reception of them, while he regularly contrasts his merits with those of his rivals. In the Peace the Chorus formally enumerate their poet's services to Comedy. But if ever, O danghter of Zeus, it were fit with honour and praise to adorn A Chorus-Instructor, the ablest of men, the noblest that ever was bom, Our Poet is free to acknowledge that he is deserving of high commendation : It was he that advancing, unaided, alone, compelled the immediate cessation Of the jokes that his rivals were cutting at rags, and the battles they waged with the lice. It was he that indignantly swept from the stage the paltry ignoble device Of a Hercules needy and seedy and greedy, a vagabond sturdy and stout, Now baking his bread, now swindling instead, now beaten and battered about. And freedom he gave to the lachrymose slave who was wont with a howl to rush in, And all for the sake of a joke which they make on the wounds that disfigure his skin : * Why, how no-cv, my poor knave!'' so they bawl to the slave, ' has the ivhipcord invaded your back. Spreading havoc around, hacking trees to the ground, luith a savage resistless attack ? ' * This is practically the case in all the five earlier plays: the Knights retain their characterisation, but this characterisation is itself political. DRAMATIC STRUCTURE. 299 ^'"''^e^lfr ''°''^^°'P^'^^^ ^"°'^^' ^^ °°^^ ^^ ^^^^ fr««^ the drama Chap. IX. And then, like an edifice stately and grand, he raised and ennobled the Art. High thoughts and high language he brought on the stage a genius exalted and rare, ' Nor stooped with a scurrilous jest to assail some small-man-and- woman aft air. Humorous exaggeration often relieves these serious literary prefaces, as where the Acharnian Chorus represent that the recent demand of the enemy for the island of Aegina was made with a view to gain a hold over the formidable satirist through his estate there, and that the Persian king backs* the nation most abused by Aristophanes to win in the war, because his strictures can do nothing but improve their character \ In the five earlier plays of Aristophanes the Parabasis The Para- Proper is confined to this function of literary satire. But ^'^^" '''''^^- when we come to the Birds and the Women at the Mysteries '^Iracted we find a difference. The steady advance of Comedy as '""^^ ^^' drama, together with its decay as an instrument of politics, ^^'^' are beginning to tell, and we find the Parabasis drawn within the dramatic plot, and assisting to work out its ideas. Illustrations have been given of the way the Birds devote their anapaests to mock-serious celebration of their mythic antiquity and religious supremacy over men. And in the other play the antipathy of the sexes is treated in the same spirit. Woman, say the Chorus of women, is universally classed amongst misfortunes of life. But it is a misfortune the men are uncommonly fond of, seeking to unite them- selves with it in the closest ties ; when they have got the misfortune into their houses they look sharply after its preservation, and go wild if it has escaped them ; if a pretty misfortune looks out of a window every eye strains to * For references and further illustrations, see Tabular Analysis of Parabases, below, pp. 447-8. \ 300 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap^IX. catch sight of it, and if her modesty takes alarm and she retires they are all set longing to get their misfortune back again \ 'strophe of '^^^ Strophe of Invocation separates the Parabasis Proper Invocation ^^^""^ ^^^ After-Speech, and its main function is thus to give variety, and break the strain of continuous satire. Comic spirit is infused into it in two ways. In some plays there is a humorous connexion between the deities selected for invocation and the characterisation of the Chorus. The knights call upon the equestrian deity, Neptune ; the Clouds invoke Zeus, Aether, and the Sea-god ; the miserable old men who form the Chorus to the Wasps make a god of their lost youth. Perhaps the boldest flight is that of the Achar- nian colliers, who find an object of adoration in their own charcoal braziers. O, for a muse of fire, Of true Acharnian breed ; A muse that might some strain inspire, Brightness, tone and voice supplying, Like sparks which, when our fish are frying, The windy breath of bellows raise From forth the sturdy holm-oak's blaze : ^^hat time, our cravings to supply. Some sift the meal and some the Thasian mixture try. O fly to my lips, strong Acharnian muse— And grant such a strain— 'tis your wardman that sues. In Other cases the humour of the Strophe is found in the familiar device of the parody, what the audience would recognise as high lyrics being suddenly converted into lampoons, or in some other way made comic I The Antistrophe follows the subject of the Strophe, either adding more parodies, or invoking other— chiefly patriotic —deities. In the Acharnia^is and Wasps, however, the Antistrophe is attracted to the subject of the After-Speech ^ Mysteries, 786. ^ The parabases of the Birds, described in the previous chapter, seem Illustrate both modes of treatment. See in the Table, page 448. and Anti- strophe. I DRAMATIC STRUCTURE, 301 and After-Response between which it stands, all three form- ing, in matter, a continuous whole. For the After-Speech, the trochaic metre, called in this work accelerated rhythm, is as essential a feature as the anapaestic system is necessary to the Parabasis Proper. The Speech is spoken in character, and its subject is, not literary satire, but public questions and patriotic emotions. The Response follows the subject of the Speech, but with a difference of treatment : except for the characterisation the former may make its attack serious, the Response must invent some grotesque form in which to present its argu- ment, or at least include some effect of comic ingenuity. Thus the Acharnian veterans complain in the Speech that Athenian law-courts give the young an unfair advantage over the old : the Response humorously suggests a division of proceedings by which old and toothless judges should deal with old prisoners, and the youthful chatterboxes banish and fine one another. So the knights, having in the former section told their ancestral greatness as conservators of public morals, proceed in the Response to present their naval prowess under the guise of horses who took kindly to the transport boats, laid well to their oars, and disembarked in perfect order. Another Response in the same play attacks naval administration by describing an indignation meeting of ships held to denounce their officers. In the Frogs the Speech is an earnest and direct plea for a political amnesty : the Response follows this up by comparing the present state of the public service to the new coinage. The old coinage was sound through and through : Fairly struck from perfect die, and ringing with a cheery sound, Equally with Greek and stranger current all the country round : while the new Is of yesterday's production, faulty die and metal base. So the good and well-known citizens are excluded from office and those substituted for them — Chap. IX. The After- Speech {or Epirrhe- ma) and After- Response {or Ant- epirrhe- via). 302 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Chap. IX. Are a trash of brass, and strangers ; ' slave ' is written on each face ; Rogue-born sons of rogue the father ; latest comers to the place. If such humorous presentation invades the Speech, the Response maintains its difference by being a degree more extravagant or fanciful. An ingenious example may be seen in the Clouds. In their After-Speech the Cloud dei- ties take advantage of the ancient superstition by which foul weather was an ill omen for a public meeting, in order to represent a recent election in the light of an- offence against themselves. And remember, very lately, how we knit our brows together, * Thunders crashing, lightnings flashing,' never was such awful weather, And the moon in haste eclipsed her, and the Sun in anger swore He would curl his wick within him, and give light to you no more. Should you choose that cursed reptile, Cleon, whom the gods abhor. Tanner, slave, and Paphlagonian, to lead forth your hosts to war. Yet you chose him ! Yet you chose him ! But even this is surpassed in indirectness by the Response, which, wishing to reprove the general laxity in religious ceremonials, makes this a grievance of the Moon, the natural guardian of the calendar. We, when we had finished packing, and prepared our journey down, Met the Lady Moon, who charged us with a message for your town. She saves the city a drachma a month in torchlight, and yet they neglect the days which it is her special function to mark : And, she says, the gods in chorus shower reproaches on her head, "When in bitter disappointment they go supperless to bed. The Peace utilises this distinction between After-Speech and After-Response for another purpose: the first presents the husbandman at peace, getting a friend in to feast while a gracious rain is swelling the seeds, and there is nothing to fear but that the cat may have stolen the hare ; the Response METRICAL STRUCTURE. 303 Rhythm. puts the contrast in time of war, the hateful sight of the Chap.ix tripie-crested, scarlet-coated captain writing down the con- scripts' names at random \ So far we have been reviewing the dramatic structure n. Comedy. But considered as a composition in verse, .^~ ,. Its metrical elements are not less important. Six different ^^ metrical styles figure in an Old Attic drama. There are the ^''^''^^■ Blank Verse and Lyric measures which Comedy received from Tragedy as the staple medium of its episodes and interludes. Next there is the anap^stic system, so closely Anap.stir associated with Aristophanes that one variety of it is called """'" after his name. Anapaests were the basis of what in Tragedy 1 have called marching rhythm. But the anap^stic lines of a tragedy are for the most part short and measured : to make a comic metre, the feet are multiplied into a long sweeping verse of rushing syllables. Strepiades. O Socrates, pray, by all the Gods say, for I earnestly long to be told, ^ Who are these that recite with such grandeur and might ? Are they glorified mortals of old ? Socrates. No mortals are there, but Clouds of the air, great Gods who the indolent fill. ^ These grant us discourse, and logical force, and the art of persuasion instil, the It^^'tnf r'""' ^^"l^^" *' ^"^''"^'^ ^™P" " '^ "•'^"''-d "to W h M t'^r "P "" ^'"^ °f "■'^'""g P""ic topics. The first Speech of the Birds applies bird ideas to the relation of parents and chndrcn, and Us Response carries these on to minor conveniences of Ufe so the second Speech proclaims a poulterer as a public enemy, its seqne actually adjudicatmg upon the chorus's own performance. In fhe companion play, the Afysteries. the loss of Antistrophe makes the Speech and Response an unbroken whole. Its theme is the Rights of Women presented as a public question : the mother who has given birth to a worthy son ought to take precedence in the festivals of the sex while she whose son has manoeuvred badly or steered his ship on to a rock should be forced to take a back seat, and have her hair cropped basm-wise, like a Scythian fright. See the Table, below, pp. 4474 Chap. IX. 304 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, And periphrasis strange, and a power to arrange, and a marvel- lous judgment and skill. Strepsiades. So then, when I heard their omnipotent word, my spirit felt all of a flutter, And it yearns to begin subtle cobwebs to spin and about metaphysics to stutter, And together to glue an idea or two, and battle away in replies : So, if it's not wrong. I earnestly long to behold them myself with my eyes. Where a considerable scene is composed in such lengthy lines it is not uncommon to use shorter lines for a climax ; an example occurs where Strepsiades, satisfied with the claims of the cloud deities, surrenders himself in the fullest legal form as their worshipper. So now, at your word, I give and afford My body to these, to treat as they please. To have and hold, in squalor, in cold, In hunger and thirst, yea by Zeus, at the worst. To be flayed out of shape from my heels to my na])e So along with my hide from my duns I escape, And to men may appear without conscience or fear, Bold, hasty, and wise, a concocter of lies, A rattler to speak, a dodger, a sneak, A regular claw of the tables of law, A shuffler complete, well worn in deceit, A supple, unprincipled, troublesome cheat; A hang-dog accurst, a bore with the worst, In the tricks of the jury-courts thoroughly versed. If all that I meet this praise shall repeat, Work away as you choose, I will nothing refuse, Without any reserve, from my head to my shoes. You shan't see me wince, though my gutlets you mince, And these entrails of mine for a sausage combine, Served up for the gentlemen students to dine ^ ^Rh^X^^^'^ The trochaic system, called in this work accelerated rhythm, y '''• is taken intact from Tragedy. But the trochaic is often ^ Clouds, 314, 439. METRICAL STRUCTURE. W \ 305 varied, for effect, by being united with a kindred metre, the Chap. IX. cretic rhythm ; this is founded on a foot which consists of a double trochee shorn of its final syllable, and thus giving two accents separated by a light syllable : double trochee follow faster cretic foot he's escaped. The combination of these allied rhythms is excellently illustrated in Hookham Frere's spirited rendering of the parode to the Acharniaris. Chorzis. Follow faster ! all together ! search, enquire of every one Speak, mform us, have you seen him? Whither is the rascal run ? lis a pomt of public service that the traitor should be caught In the fact, seized and arrested with the treaties that he brought. First Semichorus. \j — \j He's escaped, he's escaped— Out upon it! Out upon it! Out of sight, out of search. O the sad wearisome Load of years ! Well do I remember such a burden as I bore Running with Phayllus with a hamper at my back, Out alack. Years ago. But, alas, my sixty winters and my sad rheumatic pain Break my speed, and spoil my running, and that old unlucky sprain. He s escaped — Second Semichorus, But we'll pursue him. Whether we be fast or slow, He shall learn to dread the peril of an old Achamian foe. O Supreme Powers above, Merciful Father Jove, Oh, the vile miscreant wretch; How did he dare, How did he presume in his unutterable villainy to make a peace Peace with the detestable abominable Spartan race. No, the war must not end. Never end— till the whole Spartan tribe Are reduced, trampled down. Tied and bound, hand and foot. \j ~ \j u — V» \t — w — Chap. IX. Long Iambics. 306 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Chorus. Now must we renew the search, pursuing at a steady pace. Soon or late we shall secure him, hunted down from place to place. Look about like eager marksmen, ready with your slings and stones. How I long to fall upon him, the villain, and to smash his bones ! A metre peculiar to Comedy may be called Long Iambics ; it is related to its root, the iamb, as accelerated rhythm is related to the trochee. You doat, old man. — But, modest youth, I'd have yon think at starting How many pleasant things in life you never can have part in ; Wife, children, Cottabus, good wine, fish dinners, fun and laughter ! And if all these are gone away, is life worth living after ? Well, be it so. Be virtuous ; at least intend to be it ; But under some temptation slip, and let a tattler see it : You're ruined quite. You cannot speak. You have no word to offer. Take part with me, and be yourself a wag, a scamp, a scoffer. You are detected in the act; * detected' — but what matter? Your words are stout, you face it out : — it all goes off in chatter. , Or, at the worst, some God has done the like: and you cut short all Reflections on your virtue by alleging — you are mortal ^ For completeness it is necessary just to mention the familiar hexameter, the metre of epic poetry, which occasionally finds its way into Comedy. Tribeless, lawless and hearthless is he that delighteth in blood- shed, Bloodshed of kith and kin, heart- sickening, horrible, hateful ^I LUerary Questions of prosody and the metrical analysis of particu- ^Jetrical ^^^ passages belong to the study of language. But in the variations, literary effect of Comedy a large element is the choice and interchange of the six metrical styles just enumerated — a METRICAL STRUCTURE. 307. Hexame- ters. ^ Clouds, 1 071. Peace i 1097. I vanety that should be maintained by evety translator, Chap IX though the exact reproduction of the original rhythms is . ~ ve J secondary matter. Such transitions between one metre and another are analogous to the less multiform, but more mtense, mterchange of verse and prose with which the Shakespearean drama reflects the play of tone and movement The next question, then, is to ascertain the significance of he d,fferent metrK:al styles ; though if any usage be claimed for particular rhythms this must be understood as subordin- ate to the higher law that change from one metre to another of ^sctne' "^"""' ''"'' " *' ^P""' °^ ""^"^'"S -* ' with tt J'"" ''':^iy ■•^'"^'•ked how anap^sts are associated Anuf^sUc with the Parabasis Proper, in which comic characterisation - "^^^ ;s dropped and the discussion becomes entirely serious '"""'"'■ This suggests the conception of the anapsstic system as the most elevated of the rhythms that are intermediate between blank verse and full lyrics. This relation of the anap^stic to other metres is well illustrated in the parode to the ^^.^., already cited in a previous chapter: here .^trson^T '" ™'"7 "' '""^ "■'^ Comus'processi;: IS personal, « ,s conveyed in the old iambics ; when it rises to the public topics that had given a new dignity that this rhythm might be considered the normaf me- ''^^ ^^«- dmm for the political digression in Old Attic drama, and 'prLr tha It was chiefly the law of comic variety that made the After-Speech change to a different measure. With the employment of anap^stic rhythm for the Parabasis other usages are allied. A great feature in Old Attic Comedy for tHe which rested its plot upon some bold and extravagant' ^-^- Lt\r! to"r-de-force of elaborate explanation by ^XISL which this Idea was made good : the mock-senous character o such sustained explanation made the anapaestic system a fit vehicle in which to convey it. This metre, then, is the X 2 for invoca tions. 308 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. medium for the long discussion in the Clouds by which the claims of the new deities are vindicated, and for the similar dispute where Poverty, in the Plutus, bursting in upon the men who have secured the god of riches, is sustaining her paradox that in banishing poverty they are destroying luxury. Quotations in the preceding chapter illustrated the speech in which Talkover, at great length, expounds to the Birds his airy project; and it is in similar anapaestic rhythm that the heroines of the Lysistrata and the Wo7nen in Parliament unfold their socialist revolutions ^ Again, the elevation of the anapaest makes it the natural metre for invocations— such as Socrates's invocation to the Clouds, or the Hoopoe's call to the nightingale— and for the hymns of religious religious celebrations : the marriage song at the end of the Birds, celebration, ^.j^g triumphal processions concluding the Frogs and the Plutus are anapaestic, and so to a large extent is the worship of Peace through the later scenes in the play of that name^ Proclamations are in this metre, such as the warning by the servant of Agathon not to disturb his master while he is composing ^; so are the short bursts of feeling that usher in a new comer, or dismiss an incident, or prepare for some- and scenic thing that is to follow*. So imposing a rhythm is naturally allowed a place in the boldest of all Aristophanes' scenic wonders — the rise of a beede to heaven at the opening of the Peace K There is one more usage of the anapaestic metre proclama tions. marvels. * C/^M^/, 314-477 ; Phitus, 487-618; Lysistrata, 484-607; Women in Parliavicnt, 582-709. 2 C/<7?/^J, 263-74; Birds, 209-22,1726-54; Frogs, ic^oo-2^1 Plutus, 1208-9; Peace, 974, 1316, &c. ' Mysteries, 39. * Knights, 1 31 6; Lysistrata, 1072 ; Acharnians, 1 143-9 5 Birds, ^^% The long anapcestie explanations are usually led off by those to whom they are addressed: e.g. Birds, 460; Women in Parliament, 514. Similarly speeches in other metres are led off by the Chorus : Clouds, 1034, 1397; Mysteries, 531. * Peace, 96-101, 154-172. METRICAL STRUCTURE, 309 which it is not difficult to understand. It is natural that Chap. IX. Comedy, in those passages which are the counterpart of the forensic contests that belong to Tragedy, should avoid the %a^eof' blank verse which in such association would only lend itself honour in to rhetorical effect. Accordingly, the law of such comic{^X/^; contests seems to be a change of rhythm in the middle, with a sort of preference or place of honour given to the anap^st. Great part of the Knights is made up of a contest in political blackguardism between the two rival demagogues, the leather-seller and the sausage-seller : in the formal dispute before Democracy anapaests appear up to the point where Democracy begins to be impressed and turns away from his old favourite Cleon, then the scene changes to long iambics. Similarly in the Clouds the forensic contest is in anapaests as long as Right Argument leads the discussion, after which it changes to iambics. In the competition between the poets which is the main part of the Frogs the order is reversed : iambics convey the case of Euripides, while the scene rises to the dignity of anapaests when Aeschylus condescends to reply \ Accelerated rhythm shares the Parabasis with the ana- Accelerated paestic system : as the latter belongs to the earlier part, so l^hihm the trochaic rhythm is the fixed medium of the Kh^x-^Tlfter- Speech. Partly, I think, this change is for variety ; pos- ^P^^^'^- sibly also the return to comic characterisation in the After- Speech assisted a descent in the metrical scale. Accelerated Metrical rhythm has also a considerable place in the chorus-entries ^^^S^ "^ of Comedy. But the whole treatment of the chorus-entry attry.^'^^'' clearly illustrates Greek metrical conceptions. Associated in Tragedy with sudden movement and moments of excite- ment, accelerated rhythm would seem peculiarly suited to the entry of a comic Chorus. As a fact, it may be called the normal metre of the parode— the term being used to 1 Knights, 761, 836, and compare Demus's tone in ^21 ;~ Clouds, 961-1023 and 1036-1104; Frogs, 907-91, and 1006-98. 3IO CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. include the whole scene following the entrance of the Chorus : and in this metre are the elaborate parodes of the Acharniatis, the Knights, the Birds, and the Peace. But there are cases in which the character of the Chorus, or some part of their function, passes outside the range of comic effect, and then other metres are used. The Cloud deities as conceived by Aristophanes are amongst the most delicate products of poetic fancy in all literature : it is natural to find the parode to the play they inspire com- posed in lofty anapaests, with antiphonal lyrics to mark the actual entry. So in the Mysteries, whatever may be the character of the women who form the chorus, their first utterances are hymns of the sacred mysteries, and these make the parode lyrical ; for a similar reason the Comus of the Initiated in the Frogs is in lyrics broken by the metres of satire. But on the other hand, there are cases in which the Chorus of a comedy sinks below the normal level, and then accelerated rhythm gives place to long iambics. It is in this last metre* that we get our first impressions of the Wasps as they enter, in a play where the poet has made his Chorus out of the very jurymen his satire is to attack. The same contemptuous rhythm is allotted to the parode in the Plutus, a mere arrival of decrepit old neighbours, who need the news of Plutus's capture, and the thought of being able to fleece him, to make them dance at all. The unnatural revolt which is the subject of the Women in Parliament explains how it is that no higher metre than long iambics is used for their parode (so far as it is not antiphonal), and the same rhythm takes the place of anapaests for the triumph at the end of the play. And long iambics are appropriate to the parode of the Lysistrata, since it displays the bitterest hostility between the parties which the action of the play is to be engaged in reconciling. • The case of the Peace is particularly worthy of attention, as it illustrates a tendency of the comic poet to treat a Use of Ac- celerated METRICAL STRUCTURE, 311 particular metre much in the way that a leit-motif is em- Chap. IX. ployed by a modern musician. The Chorus to this play consists of jolly husbandmen, who are presented as the luit^moHf honest party in politics and the friends of peace. Acce- lerated rhythm is naturally chosen to harmonise with the noisy joy of their entrance, and this trochaic metre is in a marked degree connected with these husbandmen in the scenes that follow. The introductory incidents have been mainly in blank verse, until the point at which the hero, conceiving the hope of recovering Peace, calls upon the country party to help him : this appeal breaks into acce- lerated rhythm, and in similar strains the Chorus enter rejoicing, a climax being (as in the case of anap^sts) made by shorter lines of kindred metre \ I'm so happy, glad, delighted, getting rid of arms at last, More than if, my youth renewing, I the slough of age had cast. Trygmis, Well, but don't exult at present, for we're all uncertain still, But, when once we come to hold her, then be merry if you will ; Then will be the time for laughing. Shouting out in jovial glee, Sailing, sleeping, feasting, quaffing, All the public sights to see. Then the Cottabus be playing. Then be hip-hip-hip-hurrahing. Pass the day and pass the night Like a regular Sybarite. Blank verse marks the transition to the business of raising Peace from the pit '\ But this is at the outset interrupted by the appearance of Hermes to forbid it : the scene of the god's intervention is as a whole cast in blank verse, but where he orders the Chorus to abstain his words fall into trochaics ; and again where the hero, vainly interceding, calls on the Chorus to second him, his summons and their response are trochaic ; and finally when Hermes gives way ^ Peace, 299, 301, 339. Peace, 361. 312 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. he addresses his permission to the Chorus in the same rhythm \ The scene of raising the image is in blank verse, with variations of lyrics to convey the actual strain of hauling, and again, where the half-hearted workers are ordered to drop the rope, by the rhythm of contempt ^ to express how much better the work goes without them. When the operation is successful the rejoicings continue in blank verse while they are confined •"' to Hermes and Tryggeus : as soon as success is brought home to the Chorus accelerated rhythm rules *. In trochaic metre the Chorus enquire of Hermes the reason for the long absence of the goddess, and receive his account of the matter ; as soon however as Trygaeus turns from the Chorus to put the same enquiry to Peace herself the metre changes to blank versed So through this, the main business of the play, the accelerated rhythm that first introduced the Chorus of husbandmen is con- sistently associated with their share in the action. Long lam- The treatment of long iambics has been anticipated in bus as a ^^ remarks on the metres that contrast with it. It stands leit-motif of evil. lowest in the scale of rhythmic dignity : it is a sort of lett- motif oi evil, appearing in the parode of a degraded Chorus or the inferior stage of an action or a forensic contest *■'. It is in accordance with the spirit of such usage that long iambics should be the metre in which Pheidippides (in the * Compare lines 362, 383-99, 426. Hermes's first words as he bursts in — a solitary trochaic line (362) in the midst of blank verse — I under- stand as addressed to the whole company before him, Chorus and others, though the singular is used as if he were accosting the man nearest to him. When Trygseus answers, the rest of the dialogue is with him, and is in blank verse. ^ Long Iambics : 508-11. ^ 520-49 of Bergk's text which differs greatly from Dindorfs. * From 553 : with lyrics interspersed (582-600). * 601-56 ; 657. * I think this may possibly explain its use in the Mysteries^ 533. The speech'of Mnesilochus has been one side of a forensic contest : the answer of the women descends (in iambs) to corporal threatenings. \ METRICAL STRUCTURE. 313 Clouds) gives his monstrous justification of his action in Chap. IX. beating his father \ So it is perhaps the effect of contrast that is sought where Trygaeus, at the conclusion of the Peace, moves himself in anapaestic rhythm to the festal banquet, while in iambics he bids his friends the hus- bandmen stay behind * to munch and crunch and bite ' by themselves ^ The hexameter^ the regular metre of epic Comic use poetry, appears in Comedy chiefly for oracles and quoted ^,^^,2r. ^^ songs. But it finds its way occasionally into the framework of the play as a leit-motif of the lofty themes for which epic poetry is supposed to be the proper vehicle. Thus hexa- meters mingle with anapaestic lines in the scene of the beetle rising to heaven; and again this metre dominates the reception given by the Chorus in the Frogs to their supreme poetic hero, Aeschylus ^ To the Heavenly Nine we petition : Ye that on earth or in air are for ever kindly protecting The vagaries of learned ambition, And at your ease from above our sense and folly directing. Or poetical contests inspecting, Deign to behold for a while, as a scene of amusing attention. All the struggles of style and invention, Aid, and assist, and attend, and afford to the furious authors Your refined and enlightened suggestions; Grant them ability, force and agility, quick recollections, And address in their answers and questions, Pithy replies, with a word to the wise, and pulling and hauling, With inordinate uproar and bawling Driving and drawing, like carpenters sawing, their dramas asunder. With suspended sense and wonder All are waiting and attending On the conflict now depending! I have yet to speak of the treatment in Comedy applied Comic to lyrics and blank verse, so far as it differs from their treat- l^iy^H ment in Tragedy. It has been remarked above that, as might be expected, the odes serving as interludes in 1 Clouds, 1 399. ^ Peace, 1 305, 1 3 16. ^ PcacCi 118-23 ; Frogs, from 814. wics 314 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Chap. IX. Comedy are shorter and less elaborate than in Tragedy, and further that short lyrics are often substituted which rather break the course of a scene than separate between dichotomy, One scene and another. A kindred phenomenon is the wide use in Comedy of the dichotomous treatment, by which a strophe is separated from its antistrophe, often at a considerable interval. Thus the narrative speech in which the Sausage-seller relates the scene at the council, is preceded by a strophe of expectation from the Chorus and followed by an antistrophe of satisfaction ; there are many similar examples of incidents — the anapaestic contest in the same play before Demus, the first appeal from the chopping-block in the Acharnians^ the rhesis of Right Argument in the Clouds^ Talkover's delifieation of the wrongs of birds — which are marked off by being enclosed between the antiphonal halves of a complete lyric ^ Such • a tendency to respond later on to a rhythm started at an earlier point is akin in spirit to the unwritten law of the modern stage by which accomplished actors will, in a scene that runs to any length, contrive by natural movements to cross the stage in the course of the action, so that a speaker who has begun a long dialogue on the right side of the theatre will conclude it on the left. Even the more elaborate devices of lyric symmetry are not entirely outside comic effect. A neat example occurs in connection with the incident of hauling up Peace out of the pit. Here we have two pair of stanzas : they are interwoven (that is, the second strophe is added before the first is matched with its antistrophe), and reversed (that is, the pair com- menced first is completed last), and this antiphonal elabora- tion is in both respects significant, as the following table will suggest. * KnightSy 616-23 and 683-90; 756-60 and 836-40; Achamians, 358-65 and 385-92; Clouds, 949-58 and 1024-33; Birds ^ 451-9 and 539-47- and other devices. METRICAL STRUCTURE, 315 Strophe A : The Chorus express their long- ings and vows for the recovery of Peace Strophe B : They engage later on in an unsuccessful bout of hauling Antistrophe B : Later still they engage in another unsuccessful attempt Antistrophe A : At last when they have succeeded they give themselves up to rejoicings ^ One more instance of antiphonal treatment utilised for comic effect is too good to be passed over. In the reversal of all things which constitutes the plot of the Women in Parliament free love is a part : the principle of equality is carried so far that the old and ugly are granted a legal preference to compensate for their inferior natural attrac- tiveness. In one scene a fair youth, false to the spirit of the new constitution, steals softly to the house of his fair and youthful love, and beneath her windows sings a strophe by way of serenade. Youth with youth should sweetly blend : Not, by law, to some cursed creature. Bowed with years, cross-grained in feature, Forced false preference to extend : This is the liberty Due, blest Freedom, from thee! Up goes a window on the other side of the street, and a hideous old hag putting her head out answers sotto voce his strophe rhythm for rhythm with an antistrophe, in which she marks him out for her prey. Just you try, by Zeus above, Your old-fashioned trick of mixing Youth with youth, instead of fixing On our rightful age your love, Slighting our gift from thee. Blessed Democracy'^! ^ Peace : lines 346-60 are antistrophic with 582-600 ; between these come strophe 459-72, and antistrophe 486-99. " Women in Parliament, 938-41 and 942-5. Chap. TX. strophe antistropJu Chap. IX. Irregular Lyrics in Comedy. Comic use of Blank Verse. 316 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Irregular lyrics, in which the antistrophic treatment is wanting, abound in Comedy. They include brief inter- ludes, bursts of rejoicing or expectation, fragments of songs or quotations, and especially hymns or the words of a ritual : the ambiguous comments of the Chorus in the Clouds while Strepsiades fetches his son, the coarse hilarity of the coUiers from Acharnse when they see a market in operation again after five years of war, the Mystery Hymns, Epops's call to the birds, are examples ^ Sometimes they seem to be used for contrast with antiphonal lyrics : thus the two failures to drag up Peace having been conveyed in a strophe and antistrophe, the successful hauling is done in irregular lines. Pull again, pull, my men, Now we're gaining fast. Never slacken, put your back in, Here she comes at last. Pull, pull, pull, pull, every man, all he can ; Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, Pull, pull, pull, pull, all together 2. Finally, blank verse represents the dead level of metrical effect, to which the action always returns after special im- pulses have kept it for a time in other rhythms. But the point of return to blank verse is often itself a dramatic effect. When, in an anapaestic scene, the Birds have thor- oughly discussed Talkover's daring proposal, there is a change to blank verse with the thought, 'We must take action ! ' In the Clouds, Right Argument is beaten from anapaests to long iambics, until she gives up her case and blank verse ensues. Later in the same play the father hears in dismay the long iambics of his son's plea for beating fathers : when he can bear it no longer he turns to * Clouds, 805; Acharnians, 836; Mysteries, 312, 352; Birds, 208. For fragments of songs compare Bircls, 904, and following incident. ^ Peace, 512-19 irregular; 459-72 and 486-99 antiphonal. METRICAL STRUCTURE. 317 the Chorus and makes indignant protest in blank verse ^. Chap. IX. Such cases might be multiplied indefinitely. It will be enough to give a single example of a somewhat more elaborate transition between blank verse and other metres. When in the Mysteries the disguised Mnesilochus has made his rash attack on the sex, the storm rages about him in the long iambic measure. There is a sudden hush to blank verse at the arrival of Cleisthenes with news that a man is said to have penetrated in disguise into the secret rites. Search is made for the interloper and Mnesilochus is at once discovered. Then in a wild confusion of anapaests, iambics, and trochees further search is made for other possible intruders : this terminates in a brief spell of blank verse as Mnesilochus creates a diversion by seizing a baby from one of the women, and holds his enemies at bay : in the hesitation of the women the confusion of rhythms breaks out again, until the cry to bring fire and burn the wretch restores confidence, and the scene settles again to blank verse ^ These examples are intended merely to illustrate the Metrical significance of particular metres and of transitions from ^^^atrJnchof metre to another : to bring out the degree to which Greek poetic poets rely on this source of effect it would be necessary to ^^ ' traverse in detail whole plays l But enough has been said to distinguish the literary from the linguistic use of metres : quite apart from the interest attaching to the analysis of particular rhythms, the effect of their interchange raises metre from a mere conventional form of language to a flexible medium capable of conveying to eye and ear the most subtle change of poetic spirit. * Birds, 6^g; Clouds, 1 105, 1452. ^ Mysteries', compare 533, 574, 654-88, 689, 700-27, 728. ' See Metrical Analyses below, pages 439-41. 3l8 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. 2. The Comic Chorus. Chap. IX. The Comic Chorus : the serious naturalised amid the humor- ous. Its serious side: Bac- chic and other re- ligious themes. The term ' Comic Chorus ' would sound to a Greek ear Hke a contradiction in terms. The Chorus was a form of art embodying beauty ordered by law; it was created by the Dorians, the race of military discipline, and was sacred to Apollo, whose lordship was over the brightness and subtlety of intellect. The Comus of the merry Dionysus was a ritual of romping, given up to self-abandon and the joy that cannot contain itself ; nothing less than a whole countryside would suffice for its evolutions and arbitrary wanderings ; it was in- spired by a sacred zeal for violating ordinary conditions, accepted costume being exchanged for disguise, the decencies of life for satiric licence, and routine giving place to a festal holiday in which work was a crime, excess a law, and probability or coherence of thinking a mistake. Yet twice in ancient history these opposites were brought together. By the personal force of Arion the Chorus and the Comus were amalgamated into Tragedy, and Dionysic spirit, locked up in Dorian forms, obtained at last a vent in scenes of action, mingled with interludes in which the Chorus entirely ruled. Again at a later period, when Tragedy was a pompous State ceremony and Comedy a mere satiric parody of life, the newly revived democracy of Athens raised at a bound its favourite sport to the dignity of its rival : Comedy accepting wholesale the form of Tragedy, and setting itself the not un- comic task of naturalising the solemn Chorus amid whimsical surroundings. Viewed merely as a literary feat there is interest enough in watching how this naturalisation was accomplished. One element of Comedy needed no adaptation to harmonise it with the Chorus. The performance of every drama was regarded by the ancients as an act of worship to Dionysus : where the course of comic poetry touched the god there was nothing in- \L THE COMIC CHORUS. 319 congruous in its springing to the height of poetic elevation, Chap. IX. and from one religious theme it could pass to another. The Mystery Hymns seem quite natural as interludes in one of Aristophanes' plays. The worshippers lift their hearts to those exalted sympathies and sentiments which to them were deities. Their brains all a-whirl with the dance they hail the race of Olympian gods — Apollo with his lyre of beauty, the Archery-Queen, mistress of maidens, and Juno who holds the keys of wedlock. They add the joys of open- air nature : Hermes of the sheep-folds, the huntsman Pan, and our loves the Nymphs, calling them to inspire the dance with their smile. Chief of all they invoke Bacchus himself, wreathed with ivy-leaves that burst out with fresh tendrils as they clasp his brows, centre of the sacred dance in the secret heights of Cithseron, amid hymning Nymphs, and circle beyond circle of dancing echoes from rock or thick-shaded bank. All this was special to Greek life. But in universal Fancy. thought there is a point at which the serious and comic meet, and their spheres overlap : this is ' fancy '. Fancy, as dis- tinguished from * imagination,' is a form of beauty that rests upon surprise, upon distance from the rational and probable, upon brilliant modes of presenting and linking ideas which will no more bear examination than the hoar-frost will bear the sunlight, but which none the less appeal to our sense of truth, and are bound to our affection by a tie as elementary as the attraction which draws the strong man to the fragile child. No one will question that fancy can inspire the most elevated poetry : and for fancy what could give greater scope than the serious Chorus transplanted into the soil of Comedy ? The exuberant wealth of ideas that gather round the conception of the Bird-City produce sustained amuse- ment and at times roaring fun : but through the whole there is an undercurrent of genuine sympathy with bird life. But in another play Aristophanes has a theme in which he can 320 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. revel as a storehouse of delicate fancies: nowhere in all literature has this faculty been more glorified than in the Clouds. Here the lyrics can celebrate our king and master, Air, in whose infinite the mighty earth may freely balance itself ; Aether burning to a glow ; and above all the lady embodiments of the Air, the ever-virgin Clouds. Or, these Clouds are the curls of the hundred-headed Tempest, or the birds of the sky ; the zig-zag lightnings are their weapons, and their trumpet-strains the angry blasts ; they are the sap of the atmosphere, children of dews, mothers of showers. Cloud life passes before us, in touches of suggestion : how these creatures of softness and motion take their rest on the snow of some sacred mountain peak ; now over the mirror of ocean they sport with their nymph-like reflections ; now they are engaged in drawing up vapour fiom the glorious Nile stream, as it were in mist-pitchers which the sun paints golden ; now they roam free over some wintry landscape. Our conception is strained to take in all that the Clouds can behold, high poised in the heavens. They look up and behold the Eye of Aether, never for them wearied into shade ; they look down and see far below the loftiest watch-tower of earth's solitary peaks ; broad beneath are spread golden harvests, streaming rivers and thundering sea : all nature flashing in the joy of freedom, and human life one Springtide of sacred revel in garlanded shrines to ringing strains of the flute. Purely But the scale of thought at its opposite end is equally '^n/offh'e touched by the comic Chorus : all that is grotesque and ugly "chlius. ' can inspire it, and all that is coarse, if, like the matter of the two women's dramas, it is coarse enough. Perhaps the lowest point is reached where Aristophanes introduces his favourite butt, the jurymen of Athens, as a Chorus of Wasps— useless creatures, but with a sting in their tail. They enter in pantomimic disguise, keeping step, drawn by the smell of honey in the form of some rich prisoner, preceded by link- boys who turn their lights from side to side in imitation of THE COMIC CHORUS, 321 Al the restless heads of insects. When they meet opposition. Chap. IX. the old men's bilious anger suggests a hornet's nest disturbed : they draw stings, and fly at their foes like good bitter-hearted wasps, and when they are beaten off they cry that the days of tyranny are come again. The plot they inspire settles down to a realisation of the ideal that every man's house should be his jury-box, where he can exercise his forensic functions at his ease, by his fire-side, snatching a snack when he likes, with a brazier to keep his gruel warm, and a cock to crow him awake when he nods. The bar at which his suitors stand is the pigsty-gate ; the suit tried is an action brought by Sicilian Cheese against Dog Seizer for assault, and the defendant exhibits puppies to melt the hearts of the jury ; Dish, Pot, Pestle, Cheesegrater are amongst the witnesses ; and, for climax, the hero-juryman faints at dis- covering that he has, by accident, for the first time in his life voted acquittal. All this range of tone, from the elevated to the grotesque. The Comic the comic Chorus, as an enrbodied contradiction, can cover, ^^^^^f ^ ' ' rejiectton of It Strikingly illustrates the peculiar religious sentiment Greek reli- of the Greek mind which could sanctify and present as'^'''^*' worship all emotions, even some which modern morality considers licentious. In the development of art it laid a andafoiw- foundation in Comedy for the mixture of tones, the goal to themix- which dramatic art steadily moved, until it culminated in the ^^^^ of Shakespearean Drama, where sorrow and joy, real and ideal, ^^^' mingle on equal terms in a diapason of creative force. 3. The subject-matter of Aristophanes. All drama must be the expression of thinking : the question The matter arises, what was the field of thought to which Greek Comedy of Aristo- was applied ? what was the subject-matter which inspired iO^/a^! We have seen that it was the application of Comedy to Y Chap. IX. conserva- tism with- out any rational basis. Antagon- ism to de- mocracy and Clean , no alter- native ideal. Attitude to special topics : Peacej 322 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. politics which created the Old Attic species. Aristophanes was a party politician in the strictest sense of the term, no worse and no better. His was conservatism for the sake of conservatism. When all his writings are put together it is difficult to trace beneath the surface any principles or any political system. He had adopted the easier role of believing blindly in the past, and jeering at the dominant sentiment of his time in whatever forms it manifested itself : for him whatever is is wrong. It is convenient to divide the matter of Greek Comedy into the three classes political, social, literary, and the three are identified with three prominent individualities of the Athenian worid : but the poet's own attitude in all is the same antagonism to what is new. The general politics of Aristophanes amount to the stock denunciations of democracy, which is summed up to him in the personality of Cleon. There is the usual representation of the 'masses' as gullible to flatteries, oracles, and cries of tyranny ; the agitators bid against one another with promises of cheap food and material comforts ; the ' classes ' are re- presented by the knights. But there is no positive to match this negative, no non-popular system of government nor even any definite reform is shadowed : when Demus is boiled down he -appears simply restored to youth, with all subsequent to the age of Marathon blotted out like a bad dream. The most definite political topic in Aristophanes is naturally that which touches the life and death struggle of his age between the Athenian and Spartan leagues. He is the spokes- man of the peace party, and four of his plays are passionate and eloquent pleas for peace. No one can doubt their sincerity. But here again we look in vain for any high politics, however disguised in mode of presentation ; there is no trace of the poet' s having felt the issues at stake in this war, nor does he betray sympathies or antipathies as regards the different types of Greek peoples drawn into this mortal conflict. The speech in the Acharnians, where he ARISTOPHANES AS A THINKER, 323 makes claim for Comedy to give serious political advice, Chap. IX. minimises the cause of the war to a quarrel over three harlots ; but here he takes care to add that he hates Lacedaemon, and longs for an earthquake to level its proud city with the ground. It is significant that when Peace is drawn up from the pit she is accompanied by Sport and Plenty ; all the glories of peace, as painted by Aristophanes, amount to creature comforts and joys, with freedom from the trouble- some burdens of war. Elsewhere this advocate of peace is for ever identifying all that is good and true with a life of martial training and naval prowess : but it is the training and prowess of the last generation \ Intermediate between political and social satire may be the forensic noted a topic of constant recurrence in Aristophanes — the '''^'"'^• furore for forensic proceedings, which transformed Athens into a city of jurymen. This is treated as a part of democracy, and Cleon is the rallying-point of the wasp-jurors ; it is also presented as a modern intellectual interest in subtleties, contrasting with the out-door life of the last generation. But social morality enters largely into the matter of Greek Treatment Comedy. If it were necessary to approve or condemn the ^/^^/^ moral teachings of Aristophanes, it must be confessed it would be very difficult to disentangle the poet's actual ideas from the comic medium in which they are conveyed, and from the paradoxical wildness of the Dionysic festival. But it is a great tribute to the genius of Aristophanes that this poet — who disputes with Rabelais the palm of coarseness for the whole world's literature, whose highest appeals are to our animal nature, who reforms his repentant juryman into a life of utter dissoluteness — has impressed half his readers, from the days of St. Chrysostom downwards as a sublime moralist. Some of those who admire him in this capacity are troubled and anta- by the circumstance that Aristophanes should have attacked 5^'^^^'^^/ Socrates. But this is intelligible enough when we recognise ^ E.g. Right Argument in the Clouds. Y 2 324 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. that in morals, as in every other department, Aristo- phanes was the antagonist of what was new. The science of his age he presents as so much quackery, all its religious enquiry he regards as atheism, its varying schools of philo- sophy are comprehended under the idea of substituting grammatical subtleties for open air gymnastics : the whole new thought is lumped together and identified with laxity of morals and presumptuousness of youth, in order to make a contrast for the primitive simplicity which is so easy to imagine as preceding our actual experience of the world. Then so little open to moral impressions is Aristophanes in actual fact, that he selects from the band of prominent philosophers, as a personal embodiment for his caricature, the one personage who by common consent is allowed to have lived, and lived openly, the highest life of goodness that the pre-Christian world ever saw. Turning to the department of literature we find all poetry from that of Pindar onwards made food for the comic poet's parody. But here again we find that Aristophanes reserves his main efforts for the representative in poetry of what was new in the age. Euripides appears, to modern readers, far from advanced as a type of democracy ; some of his opinions — such as his distrust of oratory and of the town life, and his idealisation of the country — might have been expected to recommend him to Aristophanes. But Euripides was the idol of his own age, and he was the great innovator in dramatic composition ; accordingly all that is distinctive in his poetry — his pathos, his realism, his stage management and the ingenuity of his plots, down even to the simple flow of his verse— has been bathed by Aristophanes in a flood of brilliant and exhilarating parody that, after a lapse of twenty- two centuries, is still an obstacle to the appreciation of ii^ane'sa ^^^P^^^s. When, however, we pass to another division of reformer in literature the case is entirely altered : in his own department tomcdy. Qf Comedy the conservative appears as a reformer. In his literary Satire and antagon- ism to Eu- ripides. / 1 ARISTOPHANES AS A PAINTER OF LIFE. 325 serious parabases Aristophanes attacks the old-fashioned Chap. IX. works of his rivals, boasts that he has driven from the theatre the countrified tricks and stage jesting of his predecessors, and elevated Comedy from its gluttons and weeping slaves to make it a war upon the Hercules' monsters of public life. He is amply entitled to all the credit he claims. But to us, who can view Greek life as a completed story, it is one of the ironies of history to find Aristophanes resting his claim to greatness upon the change of Comedy from mere social to political satire, a change which represents the impulse given to dramatic literature by the sudden revival of the democracy which Aristophanes of all men most hated. But the matter of party politics does not exhaust the field General satire .* of ancient Comedy. It was equally inspired by satire upon comedy as human nature in general : as Tragedy was the idealisation {^^^ ^*^- lesQue of of life, so Comedy is its burlesque. In the plays of Aris- j-f^^ tophanes, the whole panorama of Greek society passes before us, each phase touched with the poet's inexhaustible humour. One play is opened with a meeting of parliament, and the whole machinery of government is presented in cari- cature — president, ambassadors with high-sounding titles, luxurious envoys ; elsewhere a magistrate with his archers of the guard perform their functions, and the punishment of the stocks and of scourging is administered on the stage. The proceedings of the law courts are continually before us, and we are familiar with the ways of the smooth-tongued advocates, and the insolence of lawyer-youths. A descrip- tion is given of a night in the temple of Aesculapius — prototype of our modern hospital, a,nd one scene presents the secret mysteries of the women ; while other religious celebrations— bridal and funeral processions, thank-offerings and consecrations— are constantly used to fill up the scenes. Abundant space is devoted to caricaturing the different classes of society, whose outward guise and varying manners do so much to make up the spectacle of life. Not to speak / \ 326 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. of Spartans, Megarians, Boeotians, we have priests, sophists, poets, astronomers, public commissioners, news-vendors, leather-sellers, sausagemen ; the opposing trades of sicklemen to represent the arts of peace, makers of crests, helmets, spears, trumpetSj^with soldiers, to represent war; slaves, informers, flute-girls ; artisans in general rising at cock-crow, and inn- keepers fleeced by travellers and making their successors suffer. The merry war of the sexes is a constant topic with Aristophanes, and no direct attacks on women are so sharp as the innocent self-exposure he puts into the mouths of the sex when they are supposed to be free from the presence of men. All this is the social satire of the older comedy broadened by the added machinery of the Attic type. It reaches a climax in the Bt?'ds and the two latest plays of Aristophanes, in which, avoiding party questions, he rests the idea of his whole plot upon general satire, exaggerating for us the spirit of speculation in enterprise and in social science to a degree that passes outside practical politics, and the whole becomes a genial mockery of human nature itself. 4. The Dramatic Element in Old Attic Comedy. Old Attic Comedy is unique in its conception of dramatic Greek Com- edy : an ex- . trcrvagant plot. This has no relation, as in Tragedy or the burlesque {tZkec/oii/ ^^^y^^^ Drama, to legendary stories, or the elaboration of striking situations. It makes no attempt to trace poetic justice or any other principle of order in human affairs. It is wholly divorced from the probability that conditions modern stor>^, and indeed fetches its interest from an opposite source. The Old Attic plot consists always in the starting and work- ing out of an extravagant fancy as a medium for satire, and the extravagance of the fancy is the main ingredient in the / i PLOT IN OLD ATTIC COMEDY, 327 comic flavour of the whole. Aristophanes is an advocate Chap. IX. for peace : the plot of one play is to present the honest " country farmer making peace for himself while all the rest of the nation continues in the miseries of war ; in another Peace is hauled up bodily out of the pit in which she has been buried ; a third play supposes a strike of the women all over Greece to maintain celibacy until the war is con- cluded. The Knights is a match in political shamelessness between two champion demagogues, maintained breathlessly until the Sausage-seller outbids the Leather-seller and the state is saved. In the Clouds the question so often asked in regard to educational systems — what will be the good of them for actual life ?— is raised in the case of the cloud- inspired subtleties supposed to distinguish the new system of the Sophists, and these are tested by practical application to the business of paying debts. A similar practical test is in another play brought to bear upon the dramatic art of Euripides, and it is seen whether in the awkward situations of real life his pathos will be found to have a moving efficacy. The other play of Aristophanes devoted to criticism of the same poet makes its attack in the form of a contest between Euripides and Aeschylus for the laureateship of Hades. In the Wasps the forensic tastes of the Athe- nians are presented as a sort of madness, which is medically treated on the stage and cured. The previous chapter showed how another play starts a strategic project of fortifying the atmosphere in the interests of the birds, and thus giving them control over gods and men. There remain the two comedies that satirise socialist ideals : in one communism is brought about by the agency of petticoat government, the other sets up a socialist millennium^ by opening the eyes of the blind Money-god. 1 I purposely use a vague term, because there is a genuine confusion in the original between two conflicting socialist ideals: (i) equality of wealth for all, (2) equitable distribution of wealth. The latter is / 1 328 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. Four essen- tial ele- ments in its structure. The Gene- rating Action. Disclosure of the Plot. Comedy of this type has a perfectly regular structure, its plot consisting of four essential parts \ The whimsical fancy which is to be the soul of the play must be introduced with due emphasis, and accordingly we have what may be called the Generating Action, leading up to the point at which the foundation idea of the plot is disclosed. Sometimes this is a single scene, such as the meeting of parliament in the course of which the hero of the Acharnians hits upon his idea of a separate peace. Or it may be an elaborate journey : Trygaeus in the Peace has to rise to heaven on a beetle in order to learn about the pit in which the object of his worship is hidden ; again Bacchus has descended to Hades with a view of carrying off Euripides, when he is utihsed to preside— as the guardian deity of the Drama- over the contest between Euripides and Aeschylus which has been standing still for want of a fit umpire. In some plays the Generating Action almost vanishes, the scheme of the plot having been laid outside the action and only needing to be announced ; in other cases there is a tendency to prolong this element of plot, until in the Frogs th^ adventures of Bacchus in Hades, before the poetic contest is mentioned, cover nearly half the play. Then comes the Disclosure of the Plot. Usually this takes the form of a sudden thought, like that which bursts upon Talkover in the midst of his conversation with Hoopoe. In the Acharnians it is the ejecting of the advocate for peace that suddenly suggests to the country- man the idea of making peace for himself; in the Clouds the inspiration comes after a whole night's cogitation. Where explicitly stated as the purpose of opening Pluto's eyes in 489-97, and this is supported by several other passages (e.g. 90, -x^ 7=1 tvqN Equally explicit in favour of equality is 510. supported b^ 463; 11 78* The confusion seems to be noted in the course of the play, and the In* former accuses Plutus of having altered his intention (864-7) ^ For details and references see Tabular Analysis of Old Attic Plots below pages 445-6. ' PLOT IN OLD ATTIC COMEDY, 329 the idea of the plot has been started before the commence- Chap. IX. ment of the action this Disclosure takes the form only of announcement. In the two plays of the women this an- nouncement is made after much ceremony and preparation by the heroine to her fellow-conspirators ; in the Frogs we learn the news by the gossip of Bacchus's slave fraternising with the slaves of Hades. In the Wasps the poet drops for a time dramatic make-believe, and in a digression lets one of the personages directly explain the plot to the audience. The Development of the Plot follows, in a succession of Develop- incidents or scenes which carry out the idea thus opened. ^JJ^' ^ ^ '^ When the hero of the Acharnians has, in the Generating Action, despatched his envoy to make peace, the scene changes from the place of assembly to the country ; and we have the return of the envoy with his samples of truces, the opposition of the warlike colliers and the appeal by which they are gradually brought round ; then follow a series of contrasts between rural festivals and market bustle on the one hand, and on the other hand the miseries of those yet under military service. The essence of the plot being an extravagant idea, a leading element in its development is some tour-de-force of ingenuity by which this idea is justified and made to appear feasible. This Paradoxical Justification is usually marked by anapaestic rhythm \ it may be illustrated by Talkover's long disquisition to the Birds on their wrongs, and his unanswerable argument on the commanding situation of the atmosphere in which they live. Other cases are the anapaestic dialogue in which the divinity of the Clouds is vindicated to Strepsiades, and he is made to accept them as the origin of all physical and human phenomena; or again the argument in the Wasps by which the unwilling jurymen are convinced that they are the defrauded dupes and not the masters of the state. In the Plutus the revolutionists who are about to open the eyes of the Money- / \ Climax or Reaction. 330 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Chap. IX. god are forced to defend their paradoxical project against the still more paradoxical claim of Poverty to be the source of all luxury in life. The Development of the Plot culminates in a Climax, usually of the nature of a procession, with spectacular or lyric effects. The contrasts of war and peace in the Acharnians end in a scene in which the hero wins a drinking match— the only conflict known to peace— while the military hero is brought home wounded. This drinking hero is escorted by two fair girls, and a noticeable feature of Aristophanes' treatment is his fondness for introducing a beautiful damsel into the close of his plays, either directly as a bride, or for sport and flirting, or under some allegorical guise, as Peace or Reconciliation. The Climax to several plays is a wedding festivity, the Birds furnishing a gorgeous example with its ascent of Talkover and the Queen of Heaven ; elsewhere some other excuse is found for a torch- light procession, such as that which in the Frogs escorts Aeschylus on his journey to upper air. Sometimes the final spectacular effect is grotesque in character, like the crab- dance which concludes the Wasps, Where the nature of the plot allows, the Climax may become a Reaction, the scheme of the plot being overturned ; such is the conclusion of the Clouds, in which Strepsiades having tasted the fruits of the new education, suddenly turns round and fetches his neighbours and the crowd to pull down the thinking-shop about the ears of its sophistic owners. These are the four natural and necessary elements of comic plot in Greek Drama. It belongs to the whole spirit of the Old Attic stage, its wealth of ingenuity and sheer intellectual force, that a species of plot resting entirely upon extrava- gance in conception should, in execution, exhibit perfect regularity of treatment \ - But if the working out of the plot was regular, an ample ^ Compare throughout the Table of Plots, below pages 445-6. / INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 33^ field for the opposite treatment was afforded by the Inci- dental Effects. These Incidental Effects are a specific feature of Old Attic Comedy, and make an aggregate of interest not inferior to that of the plot itself; Aristophanic treatment is equally divided between drawing upon ingenuity to sustain its main idea, and breaking away at every turn for some independent stroke of wit or humour, which may be altogether a digression, or a detail of the plot endowed with an interest of its own. Technically this is irregularity : but the term must not be misunderstood. The words * regular' and 'irregular' as used in dramatic criticism are not meant to suggest merit or defect; they are simply distinguishing terms of different treatments. The irregu- larity of surface that would spoil a cricket-field is an essen- tial of beauty in a landscape: so in the present case, irregularity is a law of Old Attic Comedy. It is an outcome of the same democratic license which founded the species, and inspires its main plots ; the irregular Incidental Effects combine with the formally developed extravagance of the main action to crowd into every play all possible varieties of comic effect. Among these varieties of comic effect there is Direct Satire, regularly in the parabasis, frequently elsewhere. Lampoons or personal attacks abound ; as where Nicarchus, the informer, is recognised approaching Old Honesty's market. The Bceotian. He is small in stature. Old Honesty. But all there is of him is bad ^ Aristophanes has no fear in attacking whole classes, or even the public generally: the Sausage-seller has a moment's twinge of fear when he hears that the contest before Demus is to come off in the Parliament Place, for, he says, Demus though sensible enough elsewhere always loses his head when he gets to that spot 2. Or the satire may be made Chap. IX. Interest of Incidental effects^ or Irregu- larity, Varieties of Comic Effect. Direct Satire. * Acharnians, 909. Knights, 752. Indirect Satire : / \V| / 332 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap^IX. more dramatic by being indirect. A whole character is satirically painted where, as various gods are being invoked, Euripides is made to address his prayer to Air (his food), to his own well-balanced Tongue, his 'Cuteness and his Sharp Scent. Similarly in the Clouds the poet, instead of attacking the forensic spirit, paints it enthusiast- ically as an ideal object of desire— the rattling, dodging, sneaking, shuffling versatility in jury devices— but puts the passage into the mouth of the fool Strepsiades. The women in their Mysteries, protesting against direct attacks of Euripides upon them, make a far worse indirect hit at themselves in the addition that because of these attacks they are no longer able to do their former deeds ; and with similar indirectness Mnesilochus, under guise of defending Euripides, carries on his attack, asking the women if it is really worth while to be severe upon the poet for exposing some two or three frailties while there are innumerable enormities (which he proceeds to illustrate) left untold \ One important SrS ^^'"' ^^ "^'^ ^"^i^e^t presentation consists in materialising Cartoon- vvhat IS abstract. The envoy sent by Old Honesty to make '^K^' peace with Sparta brings back samples of truces, as it were m wme-jars ; these are regularly tasted,— the five years truce has a twang of pitch and naval fittings about it, the ten years truce smells sharply of embassies and negotiations with allies, but the thirty years sample hangs delightfully about the tongue, and has a smell of ambrosia and nectar and go-where-you-please^ When Euripides and his father-in- law go to call upon Agathon, this poet's house is made to ap- pear as a regular manufactory of verse. The servant an- nounces : He is laying the stocks for a brand new play, He is shaping the wheels of original verse ; There is turning of lathes, and glueing of airs, » Frogs, 892 ; Clouds, 444-56 ; Mysteries, 398, 473. * AcharnianSy 178-202. Chap. IX. INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 333 And coining of gnomes, and metaphor-forging ; Wax models of thoughts are being polished and rounded, There is casting in moulds, and — [Interruption. ' The poet will, it is added, come out of his house presently, for in winter time Strophes are hard to bend except in sunshine*. A name for such treatment might be Dramatic Cartooning : it simply realises, in the medium of drama, what Punch would effect with the pencil ; the knights priming their champion with oil and garlic as if for a cock-fight. Peace being hauled from the pit, the scales standing ready to weigh the verses of Aeschylus and Euripides, can easily be imagined as cartoons for some Athenian weekly peri- odical ^ It has already been stated that Burlesque of Life is Burlesque. a leading purpose of Ancient Comedy ; the classes that make up society and the functions of social life are alike presented in caricature. All kinds of Comedy must afford scope for depicting that purely outward aspect of human nature which is called by the name 'manners,' to dis- tinguish it from the * character ' which shows actions and habits only in the light of the inner motives that explain them. Perhaps no bit of manners-painting in Aristophanes is bolder than the passage in which the business man's instinct of bargain-driving is suggested as extending beyond death. In the journey of Bacchus to the world of spirits his slave at one point becomes too lazy to carry the baggage. It suddenly occurs to the travellers to utilise as carrier some corpse bound to the same destination. At that moment a funeral crosses the staged Bacchus. HuUoh ! — you there— you Deadman, can't you hear ? Would ye take my bundles to hell with ye, my good fellow ? Mysteries, from 39. » Knights, 490; Frogs, 1378. ' Frogs, 170. "— Ji. J I . ^/ \\ 334 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. Deadman. What are they? Bacchus. These. Deadman. Then I must have two drachmas. Bacchus. I can't — you must take less. Deadman {peremptorily). Bearer, move on. Bacchus. No, stop! we shall settle between us — you're so hasty. Deadman. It's no use arguing ; I must have two drachmas. Bacchus emphatically and significantly). Ninepence ! Deadman. I'd best be alive again at this rate. {Exit. Literary But it is Literary Burlesque in which Aristophanes seems ^r'par^cly. ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ keenest relish. There is nothing in literature high or low which this poet is not ready to parody. The lyrics of Pindar and Phrynichus find themselves suddenly transformed into lampoons^ ; at the other end of the scale the Chorus in the Peace burlesque their own comic dancing, when, having solemnly obtained permission from the hero, who is restraining their wild joy, to just kick the right foot once more, they abuse the indulgence by proceeding further to kick the left foot also I Philosophy and science have to suffer the same treatment. Attention has been drawn to the theory of evolution which is adopted, with variations, by the Chorus of Birds in their parabasis. In the conflict between Right and ^Vrong Argument the latter, in place of the usual set speech, puts her plea in the form of a detailed confutation plainly intended to parody the Socratic dialogued To the burlesque of current science whole scenes in the Clouds are devoted. One of the best hits is the discussion of the thunderbolt, in which Socrates' well-known taste for illustrations from every-day life is transferred to Strepsiades. 1 E. g. Knights, 1263 ; Birds, 750. There is a parody of an Aesopic fable in Birds, 471 : compare Peace, 129. -^ Peace, 322-34. ' Clouds from 1036. Of course a feature in such treatment will be to make the dialogue as feeble as possible ; and it is in this spirit that Right Argument, after having cited warm baths as one item in the luxury that she alleges is enervating modem youth, is driven to admit that the principal warm baths in Athens are the Baths of Hercules, and that Hercules was the least enervated of all heroes. INCIDENTAL EFFECTS, 335 Socrates. ^\itn a wind that is dry, being lifted on high, is sud- Chap. IX. denly pent into these, It swells up their skin, like a bladder, within, by Necessity's changeless decrees : Till, compressed very tight, it bursts them outright, and away with an impulse so strong. That at last by the force and the swing of its course, it takes fire as it whizzes along. Strepsiades. Th.dX:'s> exactly the thing that I suffered one Spring, at the great feast of Zeus, I admit : I'd a paunch in the pot, but I wholly forgot about making the safety-valve slit. So it spluttered and swelled while the saucepan I held, till at last with a vengeance it flew : Took me quite by surprise, dung-bespattered my eyes, and scalded mv face black and blue \ Tragedy is naturally the department of literature which Especially serves as butt in ordinary for comic parody ; and this J'^J^^J"^^ natural antagonism was enhanced by the party feuds which pitted Aristophanes against Euripides. Besides the play which is devoted to a systematic satire upon the poetry of Euripides by exhibiting it in whimsical comparison with the poetry of Aeschylus, the same topic affords a basis of plot to the Mysteries., and a digression of considerable length to the Acharnians-. This last commences by parodying tragic situations : Old Honesty, having to face the angry colliers agrees to speak his plea of defence with head on chopping-block, if only they will grant him a hearing. He has just got into position when he suddenly bethinks him of a mode by which he may become yet more tragic; he rises, and proceeds to a point in the stage supposed to represent the house where the great master of pathos lives. A long scene ensues, in which the Chorus are ignored. After some difficulty Old Honesty obtains an interview with Euripides; by a burlesque of stage machinery the roller-stage is set in motion and displays the upper storey of the house. Clouds J 404-11. 383-480. ■^« \\ 336 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. ^»^P-IX. where the poet is engaged in composition, with his legs in the air to indicate how he is wandering in cloud-land. Bundles of dirty rags, and other theatrical properties sug- gestive of pathos are scattered about : Honesty begs the loan of these to assist his piteous defence before the col- liers of Acharnas. It appears that each bundle represents a separate play : and after some discussion the rags of Philoctetes and Bellerophon are rejected, but the old coat of Telephus fits the countryman's figure. When he has fur- ther petitioned for a beggar's stick, a pipkin mended with sponge, a burnt basket, and a cup with the rim off, Euripides cries out that his dramatic repertoire is exhausted ! In the Mysteries the parody is applied to the ingenious devices with which Euripides meets critical situations. The dis- guised Mnesilochus has just been discovered by the in- furiated women, when he suddenly effects a diversion by seizing from one of them a baby, which he threatens with his sword and so holds his enemies at bay; the surprise becomes a double one when the women, after some moments of hesitation, advance upon him, and he strips the baby to slay it, finding however no baby at all, but a skin of wine which the good woman had smuggled in under the shape of a child, intending to refresh herself during the long and solemn festival \ The rest of this play ridicules the poetry of Euripides by a comic application of it to the unhappy situation in which Mnesilochus now finds himself His first difficulty is how to inform the poet of his peril. He recollects a play of Euripides in which the secret of a crime is inscribed on oars, and these are sent floating in hopes that some of them may reach the proper quarter : Mnesilo- chus has no oars, but he writes his message on the statues and busts of the deities which adorn the temple in which he' is confined, and then pitches these out in all directions ^ INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 337 * Mysteries, 689-762. ' 765-84- He now realises his situation as that of Helen waiting Chap. IX. in Egypt for Menelaus to rescue her, and utters his com- plaint with the proper Egyptian colouring. After a time Euripides comes, and— at a safe distance outside — carries on the scene : the women guarding their prisoner listen mystified, yet with patience, until the tragic verse talks plainly of rescue, when they interfere, and announce the approach of the magistrate. That, says Euripides, is un- lucky, and his ingenuity is devoted to stealing off, with vows on his lips that he will never desert the sufferer till all ingenuity has been exhausted'. In the next scene Mnesilochus, now nailed to the pillory, endeavours to console himself with the tragic situation of Andromeda chained to the rock. In Euripides' treatment of the sub- ject, before Perseus appears, the wailings of Andromeda are answered only by the echo. Euripides creeps up behind the scene to play his part as echo : all goes smoothly for a time, until the interruptions of echo become somewhat more rapid than suits the taste of the declaimer on the pillory ; he remonstrates, and his remonstrances come back as echoes, he loses his temper and the explosion increases the echo, and the scene crescendoes till it wakes the con- stable on guard, and when his enquiries and ejaculations with their echoes are added to the conflicting sounds the whole scene is plunged in inextricable confusion I Farce is distinguished from other comic eflect by the Farce. greater prominence of wildness and self-abandon. There is plenty of it in the Knights, especially where a contest takes place for the favour of Demus, in which the rivals offer gifts of shoes, coat, cushion, pomatum, eye- wiper, and finally struggle for the privilege of blowing Demus's nose. The term will include horse-play and ' knock-about business/ But the leading type for this species of eflect is the Wasps. There is farce in the very description of the disease from * 850-927. 2 1010-97. \ tv 338 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, Chap. IX. which the hero is supposed to be suffering. To such a height has the forensic madness of Love-Cleon proceeded that his fingers are crooked with holding the vote-pebble ; he keeps a shingle beach in his garden lest pebbles should run short; he is awake half the night in anxiety to be punctual at court in the morning, and suspects the house- hold cock of being corrupted and waking him late. The speaker goes on to tell how they tried hydropathy, but could not wash his passion out of him ; then the Coryban- tic cure, but the old man simply danced his way to court ; they took him for a night to the temple of Aesculapius across the water, but he was back in chancery by dawn \ As the story is being told to the audience there is a cry that the patient is escaping by the kitchen boiler : soon his head is seen above the chimney, and when caught he persists that he is only smoke. A heavy chimney board with a log on top of it blocks up this mode of escape, and Love-Cleon has to try persuasion. He threatens he will gnaw through the net they have thrown round the house ; * but you have no teeth,' is the triumphant rejoinder. He pleads the absolute necessity of selling his ass that day. His son undertakes the task himself, and cautiously opens the door to let the ass out : struck with the heavy gait of the beast Hate-Cleon wonders whether the ass is mourn- ful at the prospect of being sold, when he suddenly perceives his father under the creature's belly, emulating the exploit of Odysseus I And this farcical treatment of a novel disease is continued by other scenes already described, which present the attempted rescue by the Chorus of Wasps, and the solution of all difficulties in the establish- ment of jury proceedings at home. iMasque, In analysing various forms of comic humour. Masque, Allegory, Personification and Myth form an independent INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 339 Wasp, 67-135. * Wasps, 136-210. group. In Masque, fancy or allegory mingles with an appeal Chap. IX. to the eye. Very delicate masque effects might be drawn from the Chorus of Clouds. More usually in Greek Comedy Panto- we get the rougher spectacular treatment denoted by the ""'"^' term Pantomime : the parode of knights with hobby-horses, the ascent on beetle-back to heaven — at one point of which Tryggeus appeals to the machinery man to be very careful, and the crab-dance which concludes the Wasps are good examples \ There is a notable scene of Allegoric Personi- Allegory fication in the Peace. The terrific figure of War appears, sonifica- attended by his boy Tumult ; he has a huge mortar, into Hon, which he throws garlic (emblematic of Megara), cheese (for Sicily), and Attic honey. But he has no pestle : and Tumult is sent first to the Athenians and then to the Lace- daemonians only to bring back news that their pestles are both lost. This is an allusion to the leading advocates of war in the two nations, Brasidas and Cleon, who had both been recently killed. War then goes in to make a pestle for himself, whereupon the hero of the play adroitly seizes the moment for an attempt to recover Peace ^. The use of Mythology as a weapon of satire was the form of Myih. humour common to Attic Comedy and the Sicilian or aristo- cratic branch. It may be pointed out that there are two modes of employing the satiric myth. It is a guise under which humanity may be satirised ; the previous chapter de- scribed the typical example in the Birds — the embassy of gods, in which the peculiarities and frailties of earthly ambassadors are transferred to the larger canvas of heaven. On the other hand, mythological personages may be so treated as to humanise deity. Hermes — herald of the gods — appears in the Peace as the footman of the divine household, left in charge when the rest of the gods have gone out of town, chatty and communicative, forbidding the attempt * Peace, 1 73 ; Wasps from 1498. Peace, 232-88. Z 2 1v^; 340 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 341 Chap. IX. The Sus- tained Paradox. Varieties of Wit. Simple Surprise. to rescue the buried goddess until a 'tip* restores him to his affable demeanour ^ Comic exaltation and comic belittling equally fit in with the myth. A very marked feature of Aristophanes' Comedy is the Sustained Paradox. The idea of the birds' castle in the air is with infinite ingenuity kept up throughout a whole play. Only second in extent to this is the elaboration be- stowed on the paradox of the Clouds, and their appearance as maidens and deities. The summons to these deities to take visible form in answer to the prayer of their wor- shipper is turned into a beautiful fancy picture of the clouds rising from the bed of ocean ; their entrance movements are connected with the idea of drifting, and their long trains with cloud shadows. If they look, when fully visible, like women, this is explained by the power of the cloud to assume any shape. Clouds can readily be accepted as the muse of poetry in consideration of the constant use the poets make of cloud imagery; they are vindicated as the originators of all natural phenomena by examples which show their essential connexion with the rain and the thunderbolt. It is not difficult to make the same deities supreme over politics in view of the belief in weather omens ; and a claim on their part to be connected with the Moon links them with the calendar of sacred festivals. If one use of a god is to swear by, the oath ' By Air and Respiration ' fits in with an atmospheric divinity. Finally, the Clouds establish their authority over the dramatic festival Itself by threatening weather penalties in case the judges give the prize away from them -. Finally, to all these varieties of comic humour must be added Wit, itself a thing taking innumerable forms. There are several forms of wit that depend upon surprise. Sim- ple Surprises are very common : one example is the explana- * Peace, 180-235, 362-427, etc. ' Ciotids, 314-436, 576-94, 627, 1114. tion given to the open-mouthed Strepsiades of the way Chap. IX. in which the master found geometry useful when there was no dinner for the college. He sprinkled on the table — some fine sand — He bent a spit — he raised some compasses — And — bagged a mantle from the Wrestling School ', The Reverse-Surprise is a kind of wit specially patronised Keversc- in the Ly sis f rata ^ where it is used as a vent for the high "'^''"^■ spirits of the Chorus when the men and women are united. Thus, all who want money are invited, on this day of joy, to come with purses, large and many of them, and borrow freely all they want, only promising that when peace comes they will 7iot repay. Again, a feast is described as preparing, to which all are freely invited : Come along, like men of mettle ; Come, as though 'twere all for you : Come — you'll find my only entrance Locked and boiled too ^. In the large amount of matter devoted to burlesquing other poetry Surprise Perversions are of frequent occurrence. The typical case is the conclusion of the Frogs, where the verdict is given in quotations from the defeated candidate, slightly adapted. Just before he makes his decision Euripides reminds Bacchus that he had sworn to carry him to earth. Bacchus. ' My tongue did swear : but '—I choose Aeschylus. Euripides. After this crime dare'st look me in the face? Bacchus. ' Where is the crime, when they who hear approve ? * Euripides. Villain ! and wilt thou leave me mongst the dead ? Bacchus. ' Who knows but life may be a kind of death,' Drinking be thirsting, and our sleep but bedclothes?^ Surprise Iteration is another mode of giving sparkle to comic dialogue. To illustrate from the Women in Parlia- Surprise Pervcr- siotts. Surprise Iterations ^ Clouds, 175-9. '' Lysistrata, 1043-72 ; compare 11 88-1 215 Frogs, 1469-78. Chap. IX. Mock Heroics. Comic Enumera- tion. 342 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES, merit'. Simple and Smart are discussing the question of transferring private property to the state linder the new constitution that estabhshes community of goods. Simple. And what else are people doing but taking steps for handing over their property ? Smart. I'll believe it when I see it. Simple. Why, they are talking about it in the streets. Smart. Talk— that's just what they will do. Simple. They say they will take and deliver. Smart. Say — that's just what they will do. Simple. You'll be the death of me, disbelieving everything a fellow says. Smart. Disbelieve— that's just what they will do. Simple. Bother you ! Smart. Bother— that's just what they will do. Later in the same conversation the effect is renewed : Simple. Oh, they'll deliver up. Smart. But suppose they do not pay in, what then ? Simple. We'll force them. Smart. Suppose they are the stronger, what then ? Simple. You let me be. Smart. Suppose they should sell your goods, what then ? Simple. Be hanged to you ! Smart. Suppose I am hanged, what then ? Simple. Why, serve you right ^. Other forms of wit are comic counterparts to serious effects. Mock Heroics have been illustrated from the choral odes in the Birds, which sing of familiar topics under the guise of travellers' marvels. Comic Enumeration may be illustrated from a passage in the Plutus, in which an attempt is being made to convince the blind god of his omnipotence. Chremylus. Your power is infinite : a man may have too much Of everything besides that's reckoned pleasant ; such As love. Slave, Bread. Women in Parliament ^ 773-6, 799-804. INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 343 Chremylus. Music. Slave. Chremylus. Slave. Chremylus. Prize-winning. Slave. Figs Chap. IX. Sweetmeats. Honour. Toasted cheese. Ambition. Dough-nuts. Office. Chremylus. Slave. Chremylus. Slave. . ^^*^* Chremylus. But man was never known to have too much of you ! Give him a round three thousand down,— what will he do? Wish that it was but four ! Well, give him that,— and then ? Forsooth he'd rather die than live with less than ten!^ From the same play may be taken an illustration of Comic Persistence, which is however something more than Comic Per- 2L form of expression, and belongs to the borderland "^^^«^"^- between wit and humour. The incident is part of the surprise felt by the neighbours at the hero's sudden ac- cession of wealth : one friend in particular has his doubts about the honesty of the business. Friend. Have you really become as rich as they say? Chremylus. W'ell, I hope to be, if heaven please :— there are risks— Frie7id. Heaven please? Risks? This looks bad. Suddenly rich and afraid is suggestive of somebody who has done— something not quite right. Chremylus. How, not quite right? FHetid. If, for example, you should have stolen some gold or silver from the oracle, no doubt intending to repent ? Chremylus. Apollo, averter of evil, not I, indeed ! Friend. Don't talk nonsense, my good Sir, I am certain of it. Chremylus. You need not think anything of the kind. Friend. What a thing it is that there should be no good in anybody : all slaves of gain ! Chremylus. By Ceres, you have lost your senses. Friend {aside). What a fall from his former good name ! Chremylus. I say you are mad, man! Friend {aside). His very glance has a strange wavering, that tells of a man who has made a villain of himself. » Plutus y 188-97. 344 CHORAL COMEDY AS A DRAMATIC SPECIES. Chap. IX. Chremylm. I understand your croaking. You want to go shares. Friend. Shares in what ? Chremyhts. In what is at all events different from what you think. Friend. You mean that you did not steal it, you carried it off? Chremylus. You are an idiot. Friend. You mean to say that you have not even committed fraud ? Chremylus. Certainly not ! Friend. Hercules I What am I to do ? The man won't tell the truth. Chremylus. You recuse before you know. Friend. My good friend, let me settle it for you ; I'll do it at the smallest possible cost. I'll stop the orators' mouths before the town gets an inkling of it. Chremylus. You'll lay out three halfpence in a friendly way, and send in a bill for a shilling. Friend. I fancy I see a certain person sitting at the bar, with suppliant staff in his hand, and wife and children weeping round him : for all the world like Pamphilus's painting, the Children of Hercules. Chremylus. On the contrary, I have wherewith to bring it about that none but the good and the wise shall be rich. Friend. What do you say ? Have you stolen as much as that ? ^ JVit and humour combined : Raillery of the sexes. Dramatic pretence dropped. It will be enough to name two more kinds of fun which, like the last, seem to combine both wit and humour. One is the mutual 'chaff' of the sexes, which is a constant source of incidental effect, besides being a main motive to two plays. The other is a comical confusion between the dramatic representation and reality. There were constant references to the audience in ancient comedies, and no doubt many extemporised personalities. It is a regular thing for a personage in some early scene to turn round and begin to tell the plot to the audience ; in the Wasps the explanation is complete, more usually it is interrupted after enough has been said to stir curiosity^. More dra- matic effect is got out of such confusion between make- believe and earnest in an early scene of the Frogs ^ where * Plutus, 346-89. Wasps from 54 ; compare Birds, 30-49. INCIDENTAL EFFECTS. 345 the effeminate Bacchus, overpowered by the terrors of the Chap. IX. under-world, rushes to the front of the stage to claim the protection of his priest, who, in a Dionysic festival, would naturally have the presidential seat among the spectators \ Such are the principal varieties of comic effect on which the poet of Greece could draw for his double work of maintaining the extravagant conception of his plot, and relieving this plot with constant flashes of incidental efTect. No analysis however can convey the inexhaustible wealth of humour and elastic play of mind which marks the poetry of Aristophanes, and which, conveyed in the most flexible of metrical mediums, makes it one of the world's literary marvels. Old Attic Comedy was the product of a very special age, a single generation of time that was the blos- soming period for a great people. It was moreover the comedy of the world's youth ; and its spontaneous fun was needed, not as a stimulus to jaded spirits, but as a relief for exuberant energ)\ ' Frogs, 297. ; X. Ancient Comedy in Transition. 1. Nature and Range of the Transition. 2. Instability of the Chorus. 3. Other Lines of Development illustrated from Aristophanes. \ u— i ? - '^C X. 1. Nature and Range of the Transition. There is a remarkable hiatus in the history of Greek ^^^J ' drama. Old Attic Comedy came to an end, so far as we jijt\Mc know it, with Aristophanes. The next comic species that ^^^^^^^^^ has found representation in hterature is the *New Attic,' which we possess not in its original Greek form, but in its Roman imitation. Between the old and the new came what has been called by historians the * Middle Attic Comedy,' the whole of which has been lost. It appears to have been a highly fertile department of literature : a single historian speaks of eight hundred plays, the work of thirty- nine poets, which he himself had seen. And the loss of all these dramas is the more unfortunate as they represent a stage in the history of Greek literature during which most important problems of dramatic development were in course of solution. For our idea of this Middle Attic Comedy we are confined to a few scattered notices of historians, and to inferences from comparison between the character of Comedy when it comes to an end in Greek literature, and again where we recover it in the literature of Rome. The evolution of Comedy resembles a river that runs during part of its course underground : by examining the direction of the stream where it disappears, and again the mode of its re-emerging from the earth, some notion may be formed of the course taken by the river where this has been invisible. From what we can learn by such means of the Middle mi a sepa- r • 4.1 t. :^. '^ rate speaes Attic Comedy there seems no reason for supposmg that it in ^^^^^ any sense constituted a distinct species of drama ; the term 350 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. INSTABILITY OF THE COMIC CHORUS, 351 Chap. X. rather covers a continuous and gradual transition between T . two species, each of which had a marked individuaHty of its a transition ^ stage. own. The transition had begun in the days of Aristo- phanes. Old Attic Comedy was created by a political revolution, which both gave it its specific form, and also furnished the social surroundings favourable to its spirit of license; this chapter of political history is considered to have closed with the end of the Peloponnesian War in 401 b. c, after which the leadership of the Greek peoples passed away for ever from the x\thenians. But alike in political and literary history great movements do not punctuate themselves by exact chronological dates. The democratic impulse was weakened at Athens before it was destroyed, and ten years before the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War an oligarchic revolution had set up the government of the Four Hundred. So Comedy, before it leaves the hands of Aristophanes, shows unmistakable signs of change in the direction in which the Middle Attic dramas were to carry it. The work then of the present chapter is to trace a transi- tion, commencing in the later plays of Aristophanes, pro- ceeding through something like a century ' of great literary activity, and culminating in the new species which will be the subject of the following chapter. 2. Instability of the Chorus. Natural In looking for evidence of the transitional stage in Greek instability Q^y^^^^ ^,^ ^^^^ fi^st to the Chorus. It was as Choral oj the comic •' Chonis. Comedy that the Old Attic drama became a separate literary species, and the decay of its specific distinctiveness * It seems reasonable to date Middle Attic Comedy, considered as a transition, from 411 B.C., the year of the oligarchic revolution. In 311 B.C. Menander, great master of the New Attic Comedy, would be thirty-one years old. r will be most apparent as the Chorus is touched by change, chap. X. Again, this Chorus was a foreign element in Comedy, and for that reason a disturbing force. Even in Tragedy we have seen how the Chorus was a source of instability, wavering as it did between dramatic and lyric functions. In Comedy, then, it is not surprising to find that the Chorus existed in a state of highly unstable equilibrium, and was a source of rapid developmental changes. Six distinct tendencies are traceable in the comic Chorus. Reversion Two of them are in the direction of Primitive Comedy, to /^/^//c^w- which the whole parabasis is in a measure a reversion, edy : in its The parabasis proper suggests a tendency to revert to the ^^' ^" original body of Bacchic satirisers, who broke off their procession to indulge in jeering : so the anapaestic digression severed connexion altogether with the play, and the Chorus spoke directly as an author to the public. In the after- and its speech, on the other hand, the Chorus resumed their comic -^'^^ ^^^^^'' characterisation; they selected such aspects of political questions as would appeal, in the Acharnians to old men, in the Peace to representatives of the agricultural interest. This recalls the final stage of Primitive Comedy, when the satirisers had adopted a dramatic role in which to bring out their attack. In neither case does the change amount to more than a tendency, for the whole of the parabasis handles matter of public moment in loftier rhythms than the iambics consecrated to personal satire. Again, the Chorus of Comedy shows attraction to the Attraction tragic Chorus in its two normal functions, which have ^civrus^^as been described in an earlier chapter by the terms '^pec- spectators tators of the drama' and 'spectators in the drama.' The j^rama Chorus of Tragedy were spectators of the drama in the way they were made to lead the thoughts of the audience through the mental impressions which the poet wished his play to produce. A comic counterpart is found to this in the practice of Aristophanes to connect his 352 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. choruses with the right side in politics. The Chorus in the Knights and the Peace are completely described by this phrase. In the Mysteries and the Frogs the Chorus re- present the right side in the sense that they are bitterly hostile to the personage attacked in these plays. The case of the Clouds is peculiar. Here the Chorus appear at the summons of Socrates, and seem to identify themselves with his system. But at a later stage they hint a coming change in the action, bidding the arch-sophist make all he can of his victim speedily : For cases such as these, my friend, are very prone to change and bend. At the end of the play, when the outraged Strepsiades seeks to upbraid the Clouds with having led him to his ruin, the Chorus promptly vindicate their position : Such is our plan. We find a man On evil thoughts intent, Guide him along to shame and wrong, Then leave him to repent. These words seem to set the Chorus right with the audience, suggesting that they have only made pretence of support- ing evil ^ Two more plays exhibit the principle in a varied form : the colliers of Acharnae and the wasp-jurors are vio- lently on the wrong side at the commencement, but are by the course of the action brought round to political sound- ness. And we have another interesting variation of the law in the Lysistrata, where there are two choruses, presenting the right and the wrong side with bitter opposition, but gradually reconciled by becoming unanimous in favour of peac€. In the remaining three plays of Aristophanes the subjects hardly admit of a right and a wrong side. The function of spectators in the drama is illustrated by the casual way in which the Chorus of a comedy are often brought into the action. In the Achirnia7is the bearer of truces has to pass through a certain colliery village on his * Clouds, 8io, 1458. and as spectator in the drama. INSTABILITY OF THE COMIC CHORUS, 353 way to Honesty's farm, and the colliers, who are strong for war, detect and pursue him, thus becoming the Chorus of the play. So in the Frogs the Band of the Initiated are connected with the action as passers-by of whom the hero is to ask directions for his route. Even where the Chorus represents a particular party — the knights, or husbandmen in the Peace — they can still be brought together in a casual manner, the hero, in a sudden emergency, calling all who are on his side to his assistance ^ But if the comic Chorus thus imitated the Chorus of Tragedy in its normal functions, it shared also the insta- bility as between dramatic and lyric which led the tragic Chorus to develop in two opposite directions, towards what was purely lyric or purely dramatic. On the one hand there was a tendency for the Chorus in Comedy to lose its dramatic character, its odes approaching more and more nearly to the position of mere lyric interludes, irrelevant to the plot. Not to speak of the parabasis, which was avowedly a digression, we have lyrics in Aristophanes made up of miscellaneous personalities, or in the Mysteries of serious festival hymns. It is not uncommon for the Chorus to speak in their own interests as professional performers, appealing to the judges to give them the prize, or (in the Achariiians) making exposure of a choregus who had on a previous occasion disappointed them of their complimentary supper "". In the two latest plays of Aristophanes this change has proceeded to much greater length, and in places we have not only the loss of relevancy in the words of an ode, but the loss of words altogether, the ode sinking into a mere performance of music and dancing. The law for the choral element in these two plays would seem to be that the Chorus show activity in the parode scene, and are then ignored till the exode, except that they interpose once in the forensic * Frogs, 154; Knights, 242: Peace, 296. * Clouds, 1 1 15; Birds, iioi ; Acharnians, 11 50. A a Chap. X. Opposius^ tendencies [as in Tragedy) : to7uards dedram- atisation, Chap. X and to- wards in- creased dramatic activity. Multipli- cation of Choruses. 354 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. contest to urge on to the argument the champion they favour. In each play there is a section of more than five hundred hues, during which the Chorus do not speak a word, nor is their presence recognised, which however includes several scenes that are clearly distinct : the break must have been made by dances in connexion with which no words have been written \ This is a not inconsiderable ad- vance in the transition by which, as we learn from historians, the Middle Attic Comedy lost the Chorus altogether, and Roman Comedy was brought into the form of acts or scenes separated by performances of music. The opposite tendency for the Chorus to rise in dramatic function and pass into actors would seem particularly natural in Comedy. In the Birds the Chorus are the motive force for the plot ; in the Wasps they join in a free fight with personages on the stage ^ But the great illustration for this line of development is the Lysistrata. This play is unique. It rests its plot mainly upon choral action ; a sure sign of breach with the normal function by which the Chorus represented the audience is given in the multiplication of » In the Women in Parliament the Chorus complete their parode action at line 516; they do not speak again [according to Bergk's text] until line 1127, except the speech, 571-83, in which they urge the heroine to speak boldly in their cause against the husband. Bergk's text indicates the position for the dancing interludes by the word Chorow. this occurs after lines 729, 876, iiii.-In the Plutus the parode is completed at line 3.^1, the interposition in the forensic contest IS at line 487, and the concluding interposition of the Chorus is at line 1 208. They do however speak during the interval : once (631 , 637 640) to welcome the god on his return from the temple with his eyes opened (which may be regarded as a part of the parode scene separated from the rest, the purpose of their entry being to rejoice at the opening of Plutus's eyes), again (962) to mechanically direct a newcomer to the house The dances are placed by Bergk after lines 321, 626, 770, 801 , 958, 1096, 1 1 70. Iwo plays, the Women in Parliament and the Mysteries, reflect both the opposite tendencies: in the generating action the Chorus have an active share, while in the main plot they are irrelevant or Ignored. INSTABILITY OF THE COMIC CHORUS, 355 choruses ^ which is carried so far that five distinct speaking Chap. X. choruses are introduced on the stage or in the orchestra, and are massed together in the choral chmax. In modern terms the Lysistrata might be described as the triumph of opera Lysistrata over drama ^. The prologue of the play is occupied with a conspiracy of /^^/^^«'- the women, led by Lysistrata, to refuse all intercourse with men until peace shall be made. At the close a shout within the Acropolis— in front of which the scene is laid — shows that the first step in the revolution has been accom- plished, and the band of women to whom the task had been committed have seized the citadel. All separate to carry out their respective parts in the plot. Then on one side of the double pa- orchestra enter a Chorus of Men, carrying logs of wood and to pans of smoking charcoal. The degraded iambic rhythm rules this parode, with lyrics interspersed : the old men grumble at their toilsome task of clambering heavy-laden up the ascent to the Acropolis in order to burn out the shameless women : — Dear, how these two great fire-logs make my wearied shoulders toil and ache. But still right onwards we needs must go. And still the cinders we needs must blow, Else, we'll find the fire extinguished ere we reach our journey's end. Puff! puff! puff! O the smoke! the smoke! * I use the term 'Secondary Chorus' in this work for bands of persons (other than the regular Chorus) for whom words are written. Examples are the Eumenidean procession in Aeschylus's trilogy, and the Huntsmen in Hippolytus. The term may include cases like the Frogs and the Chorus trained by Agathon, which do not appear, but are heard singing behind the scenes. The Greek term parachoregema would include further the children of Trygseus in the Peace, whose characterisation is individual not collective. This word is sometimes translated by-chorus, but this is misleading, its connexion being not with chorus, but with choregus : a fair rendering would be chorus-providers extras. 2 The play is ineffably coarse in the original : in the version of Mr. Rogers it is made readable without any loss of force.— For references, see Table on page 441. Aa 2 356 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. As they are spreading their logs and preparing to fire them, enter on the other side of the orchestra a Chorus of Women bearing pitchers of water. They are hastening to the defence of the citadel, and fear they may be too late. Yea, for hither, they state, Dotards are dragging, to burn us, Logs of enormous weight, Fit for a bath-room furnace. Vowing to roast and slay Sternly the reprobate women. O Lady, Goddess, I pray. Ne'er may I see them in flames ! I hope to behold them, with gladness, Hellas and Athens redeeming from battle and murder and madness. Suddenly the two Choruses face one another, and exchange of defiance begins, ending in volleys of water from the women'sbuckets, with which the Chorus of Men are drenched, and their charcoal pans extinguished. At the height of the episode tumult enter a Magistrate with his officers to assert the majesty of the law against both parties ; the diversion brings the scene to blank verse. It may be noted that the choral spirit so permeates this play that the action even of individual personages makes an approach to the evolutions of a dance. Thus when the Magistrate is in a lordly way dealing out censure on all sides, Lysistrata enters from the citadel and confronts him. He orders an officer to arrest her. But another woman comes out to tackle the officer, and when a second officer attempts to take her into custody, yet another woman appears to confront him : and so on, until a crowd of women fill the stage, and a scrimmage with the police takes place, Lysistrata cheering on her com- panions. Forth to the fray, dear sisters, bold allies! O egg and-seed-and-potherb-market-girls, O garlic-selling-barmaid-baking-girls, Charge to the rescue, smack and whack and thwack them. The women holding their own, a parley takes place, which becomes the anapaestic vindication of the plot by Lysistrata. INSTABILITY OF THE COMIC CHORUS. 357 Even this is relieved by evolutionary effects. As Lysistrata Chap.X. makes her attack on the old theory that war is man's business, the testy Magistrate becomes indignant in his interruptions : whereupon some of the girls begin dancing round him— the dialogue going on unbroken— and, before he knows what is being done, have thrown their wraps about him and put a spindle into his hand, until he looks a model spinning w^oman by way of accompaniment to Lysis- trata's War shall be women's business now 1 So in the latter half of the discussion, where the case for women's rule is being put with great skill, the Magistrate's impatience becomes greater than ever, until his girl tor- mentors dance round him once more without interrupting the scene, throw over him this time a shroud, and then drive him away telling him he is keeping Charon waiting. The officers are driven off with buckets of water and the stage is vacant. We now have the unique interest of an interlude by a intcrlud^ Double Chorus. The Choruses of Men and of Women stand facing one another in the orchestra, and exchange fierce defiance ; the play passes into its trochaic stage, strophes of accelerated rhythm being answered by anti- strophes, each ending with a blow, or missile, with which words have been unexpectedly translated into action. Thus the first strophe of the Men ends : And I'll dress my sword in myrtle, and with firm and dauntless hand, _ T * \ Here beside Aristogeiton {creeping up to a statue m the orchestra) resolutely take my stand, Marketing in arms beside him. This the time and this the place ^ When my patriot arm must deal a— blow upon that woman s face ! \One of the Chorus has darted out arid suddenly struck one of the women.'] There is a similar ending to the antistrophe of the Women : — 358 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. Murmuring are ye? Let me hear you, only let me hear you speak, And from this unpolish'd slipper comes a — slap upon your cheek ! \Pne of the wotneji shies her slipper and hits the leader of the Men's Chorus.'] So the second strophe of the Men ends by the evolutions of the dance bringing them close up to the Women, where- upon several of the Men unexpectedly seize several women of the Chorus, and shake them before they can get free. But in the antistrophe the Women dance nearer and nearer to the Men, and, while the latter are watching against a repetition of their own manoeuvre, the leader of the Women suddenly seizes the foot of the Men's leader, and upsets him against his unthinking companions, till the whole Chorus of them are floundering on the floor together. And you'll never stop from making these absurd decrees, I know, Till I catch your foot and toss you — Zeus-ha'-mercy, there you go ! episodes and Ncxt we have two scenes of ordinary verse separated by another Double Chorus. In the first is seen the inconstancy of the women conspirators, one after another being caught deserting, and offering absurd excuses. In this women's scene the Chorus of Women have a share of the dialogue ; the Chorus of Men are ignored. The second scene exhibits a husband teased by his wife in his attempts to bring her back to domestic intercourse : here the Chorus of Men share in the dialogue with the husband, and the Chorus of Women are silent. The interlude shows that the Choruses of Men and of Women have not been facing one another for so long in the orchestra without a mutual attraction making itself felt. Thus, though they still exchange defiance, there are suggestions of relenting, such as an offer of a kiss made in a tone of threatening, and a threat of a blow accepted as an amatory challenge. After a mechanical scene, in which an offer of peace comes from Sparta, we reach the crisis of the plot, and this INSTABILITY OF THE COMIC CHORUS. 359 is entirely confined to the Chorus and the orchestra. The Chap. X. Men and Women continue to exchange defiances, which show in each line signs of softening, till at last the men give way with the reflection : That was quite a true opinion which a wise man gave about you : We can't live with such tormentors, no, by Zeus, nor yet without you ! They make peace, and the Double Chorus resolves into a .w/..r- Joint Chorus of Men and Women combined— a thing en- tirely strange to Greek ideas of dancing. The words of the Joint Ode express general abandonment to rejoicings and indulgence in nonsense verses, which last over two interludes, before and after a scene in which representatives of Sparta and Athens meet, and, by aid of Lysistrata and her beautiful maid Reconciliation, all diff"erences are harmonised. Lyric metres rule the play from the point at which the Choruses of Men and Women unite, and the conclusion is an elaborate choral climax \ The preceding scene closed with an invitation of the Spartan envoys to a banquet in the Acropolis. The exodus commences with the return of the banqueters. First, the Athenian hosts appear, speaking in praise of their guests, and carrying torches to escort them : these form a line on the stage and become a Chorus of Torchbearers. Amid this torchlight the Spartan embassy pours out of the Acropolis, and extemporises a Laconian choral ode on the stage, with full Doric ritual and in Doric dialect. Then Lysistrata bids them take as partners the Garrison of Women holding the Acropolis, who have not appeared until this moment : these descend with the Spartans into the orchestra, and face the Chorus already there. Thus was reached the unprecedented climax of a Quadruple Chorus, that is, a Double Joint Chorus, the one of Athenian 1 I follow throughout Bergk's text and arrangement of the speakers, without which all the latter part of the play is very difficult to understand. 360 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION Chap^X. Men and Women reconciled in the course of the play, the other of Lacedaemonian Men with their partners the Athenian women guard. Each performs an ode, in the manner of the two main rituals of Greece, Ionic and Doric. The Athenian ode is the dithyramb of wild self- abandonment. Now for the Chonis, the Graces, the minstrelsy, Call upon Artemis, queen of the glade ; Call on her brother, the lord of festivity. Holy and gentle one, mighty to aid. Call upon Bacchus, afire with his Mfenades ; Call upon Zeus in the lightning array'd ; Call on his Queen, ever blessed, adorable; Call on the holy infallible Witnesses, Call them to witness the peace and the harmony. This which divine Aphrodite has made. Allala! Lallala ! Lallala ! Lallala! Whoop for victory, Lallalalte ! Evoi, Evoi, Lallala, Lallala I Evae, Eva?, Lallalalse. The Lacedaemonian ode maintains the measured self-restraint of the Doric mode, and is in the dialect which the translator represents by Scotch : Sae we' se join our blithesome voices, Praisin' Sparta, loud an' lang, Sparta wha of auld rejoices In the choral dance an' sang. O to watch her bonnie dochters Sport alang Eurotas' waters ! Winsome feet for ever plyin', Fleet as fillies, wild an' gay. Winsome tresses, tossin*, flyin', As o' Bacchanals at play. With such contrasted choral effects, prolonged ad libitum by torchlight, this operatic play ends. RISE OF THE UNDERPLOT, 361 3. Other Lines of Development illustrated from Aristophanes. Apart from the Chorus, the distinctiveness of Old Attic Chap. X. Comedy as a branch of drama may be described as two-fold : sp^dal its spirit of license, and its application to public questions, lines of dc- The loss of both these specific peculiarities, by the force of ^^ ^P^^^"^^- natural development and other influences, gives certain lines of change by which to trace the transition from Old Attic to Roman Comedy. And the commencement of these changes can be illustrated from the plays of Aristophanes, especially the later plays : of ^^hich the Mysteries is assigned to the year of the oligarchic revolution, the Frogs is later by six years, while twenty years from that landmark in time have elapsed before we get the Women in Parliament and the P III til s. The wild license, extravagance, improbability, which dis- Irregu- tinguished the Old Attic play, needs special external ^J^^^^^-^^^^^,^ surroundings if it is to be maintained ; unsupported from velopment) without, the force of natural development will lead steadily J^^'^^^f in the direction of probability and strictness of form. In a strictness of general way such development of regularity must have been-^'^^"^' at work through the lost Middle Attic dramas, since the Roman Comedy in which they merge is entirely regular. But under this head there is a very definite line of tran- sition to be noted, which can be traced within the plays of Aristophanes : this is the rise of the Underplot out of the Incidental Effects. I have remarked above on the power of Greek Comedy to f/^^''/f f , . , r Unaerpiot break away at any moment from its plot for every variety ot ^^^^ ^pJ^^ comic diversion. The advance from such incidental effects ^^pff^f^^ in the direction of the regular underplot may be clearly seen ■^'' '' by putting together three plays. It will be recollected how in the Acharnians the hero suddenly raises his head from 362 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. CiiAP^X. the chopping-block from which he is to speak his defence, how he is supposed to go to the house of Euripides, has him wheeled out by the machinery, and in a long scene appeals for the loan of various tragic properties, with the aid of which Old Honesty makes his speech sufficiently pathetic for his critical situation. This is not so much an incidental effect as an incident complete in itself; it is wholly foreign to the subject of the play, being a piece of literary parody let mto a plot of political satire ; its disconnectedness is further brought out by the curious way in which the presence of the Chorus is ignored. In the Mysteries there is a similar digression where Euripides and Mnesilochus make a call upon Agathon, in the hopes of securing him to represent their interests at the festival of the women, to which his effeminate figure will, they think, readily gain him admission. They find Agathon in the act of composing, dressed in female attire as realistic stimulus to invention for a play in which the chief personage is a woman. They hear the Chorus practising behind the scenes, and singing invo- cations to Artemis and Latona and the Phrygian Graces that kindle light in the worshippers' eyes, until as connoisseurs they are tickled all over with aesthetic thrills. But it is all in vain that the visitors put to Agathon the object of their call : he bluntly refuses to undertake the dangerous mission. As compared with the other case this is an incident expanded on a much larger scale ; it is moreover linked in its subject- matter to the rest of the play, the attack upon Euripides the arch-innovator being supported by a briefer fling at a less distinguished poet of the future. When we come to the The Frogs Frogs we find the important advance from a single incident to that combination of many incidents in one unity which is the definition of a dramatic action. The relation moreover which binds this series of details to the main part of the play is precisely that subordination which belongs to the under- plot : the main story is of Bacchus undertaking a journey to RISE OF THE UNDERPLOT 363 Hades, the underplot is made by the farcical behaviour of Chap. X. the slave Xanthias who accompanies him ^ , The opening scene of the Frogs is laid before the temple of Hercules. Bacchus and Xanthias enter, the former with the lion's skin of Hercules thrown over his dandy's dress, the latter riding an ass and carrying his master's baggage on a pole. Bacchus is making a call on his divine cousin Hercules. Euripides is just dead, and Bacchus (as head of the dramatic interest) complains that there are no poets left : he is resolved to emulate Hercules' great feat of a descent to Hades, from which he will carry off his poet, as Hercules carried off Cerberus. Hercules is greatly amused at the effeminate Wine-god's attempts to mimic his brave appear- ance, but gives him the advice he asks as to the journey — the harbours, confectioners, lodging-houses, restaurants, springs, rooms, cities, hostesses and clean beds : further directions he may ask from the Band of the Initiated whom he will meet. Throughout this opening of the main plot the underplot has been presenting and satirising what was destined to become one of the stock interests in later Comedy — the * cheeky ' slave. Xanthias complains of having all the heavy carrying to do, and not being allowed to relieve his task by making the regular jokes of the stage, at which everybody always laughs ; he may not say, ' Oh my bundle,' nor even ' How my back aches.' Old-fashioned quirks are made, about his not carrying because he is carried (by the ass), and all through the conversation between Bacchus and Hercules, Xanthias cries at intervals : * Nobody notices me ! ' The scene changes to the banks of the Styx, and Charon from the ferry of the dead hails the travellers : Any passengers for Cease-from-Troubling, or Land of Forgetfulness, or Nowhere? Anybody to visit the Hellhoundians, or the Dogs, or the Bot- tomless Pit? ^ AcharnianSj 383-480; Mysteries, 1-265; P^ogs, 1-813. 364 ANCIENT COMED V IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. Bacchus embarks : Xanthias being sent round the land route (apparently to get rid of the ass). Bacchus is to row, and after some comic business made out of his floundering attempts, the boat at last starts to an accompaniment of a Frog Chorus, chaunting indignation at the disturbance from the thick waters of the marsh. To a hoarse burden of Brek-ke-ke-kex-koax-koax, they tell how they too are dear to Pan and the Muses, and they too have their choral songs— As oft on sunny days Into the sedge we spring And reappear to sing Our many-diving lays : Or flying sudden thunder And darkening skies, we go To weave our dance beloAv With sinking, rising, over, under, Timed in many whirls and doubles To the bursting of the bubbles. After a good deal of furious striking at these musical frogs with his oar, Bacchus at last silences them, and, arrived at the other side, is rejoined by Xanthias. The next phase of the journey is mainly occupied by the slave playing upon his effeminate master's terror, amid the darkness and horrors of the world below. Then, with the sound of flutes, we have the entrance of the Chorus to the play, the Comus-procession of the Initiated to which I have so often had to refer. By directions from these the travellers reach the house of Pluto, and knock at the gate. But Bacchus in his project of going Hercules' journey over again had entirely lost sight of the reputation his pre- cursor might have left behind him in Hades. Accordingly when Aeacus answers the knock and sees the familiar lion's skin, he instantly falls foul of the visitor who stole the hound of hell. While Aeacus has gone to get help, Bacchus makes his slave exchange clothes with him in order to bear the punishment in his place. This is scarcely accomplished RISE OF THE UNDERPLOT, 365 when a servant of Proserpine runs in to say how delighted Chap. X. her mistress is to hear of Hercules' return, and how dainties are being got ready and girls are to be among the guests. Then Bacchus protests to Xanthias that he did not mean seriously the exchange of personalities, and Xanthias has sulkily to resume the slave. Suddenly they are encountered by two Innkeepers of Hades, who recognise the villain that devoured such a big meal and went ofl" without paying the bill. They go to Cleon, Mayor of Hell ; Bacchus has to wheedle his slave again into assuming the culprit's part. When Aeacus and the constables come and bind Xanthias, Bac- chus laughs at him ; whereupon the ready slave takes a new line, denies the charge of theft, and ofl'ers (according to the legal usage of the time) his slave to be tortured for evidence. Aeacus, an authority on matters of justice, says this is fair. To get out of this scrape, Bacchus has to declare his divinity. Aeaais. What do you say to that? Xanthias. Whip him all the harder : if he's a god he won't feel it. The incident ends in a farcical scourging of both, to see which cries first, and so proves himself an impostor. The Chorus of the Initiated have been looking on and commenting upon these scenes. They proceed to their parabasis as the master and slave are carried into Pluto's house, that the divinity may judge which of the two is divine. At the close of this parabasis Aeacus and Xanthias reappear on friendly terms : the matter in dispute has been settled, and as slaves of Pluto and Bacchus the two fraternise. In the talk between them the subject of the contest between Euripides and Aeschylus is brought forward, and the play passes to its main business. From this sketch it will be clear how Xanthias in the Frogs j^^^^n'^ is the centre of an independent interest, and how, durmg ^;^^ /y^^^ this first half of the plot, the interest centering round Xan- incomplete. thias is developed on equal terms with that belonging to the ClIAP. X. Other fnul- 366 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION, hero of the play. It fails in completeness as an underplot only in the fact that it is entirely dropped at this point, nothing further being heard of the slave, and no provision being made for terminating his connexion with the story. An underplot carried to .completeness we do not find before we reach Roman Comedy. tipli f ^"^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ illustration for ofac'liom. another line of development. A natural law of literary progress is the expansion of matter and passage from simple to complex ; this applied to Greek drama, with its unity of plot, tends towards the general multipHcation of actions, in which the combination of plot and underplot is only one variety. In Tragedy, where the Chorus acted as a force favourable to unity, the tendency towards this multiplication of actions appeared chiefly in the modified form of agglutin- ation, the union of two actions centering around the same personages, the first concluded before the second begins. Something like this agglutination belonged to Comedy from the first, where, as we have seen, there was a generating action leading up to the main plot. Development is seen in the expansion of this generating action : in the Mysteries it takes one half of the whole play to get Mnesilochus into the peril from which the main plot schemes to deliver him, and a similar proportion of the Frogs is devoted to initiating the grand contest \ What is more important than mechanical length is the dramatic completeness with which the generating action in this latter play is treated. In some plays the subordinate element of the drama loses itself in the plot which it initiates : the two slaves who, in the Knights, dis- cover the mighty oracle, gradually disappear, and in the ' climax of the play the Sausage-Seller is the sole hero. But in the Frogs the journey which occupies our attention in the first half of the play is brought to as regular a conclusion as * Mysteries, 1-764; Frogs, 1-813. LIMITATION TO SOCIAL SATIRE, 367 I Subject- matter of Comedy narrowed with the decline of democracy the contest which fills up the latter half. Bacchus descends Chap. X. to Hades to carry off Euripides : in the final catastrophe he changes his mind and brings away Aeschylus. Euripides has challenged Aeschylus to a competition for the place of poetic honour in Hades : Aeschylus defeats him, and nominates Sophocles to fill the place during his own absence with Bacchus on earth. Two distinct actions, completely worked out, unite in a common climax. I pass to the second distinguishing peculiarity of Old Attic Comedy, its application to public questions of political and literary warfare. This feature was impressed upon Comedy as a result of a democratic revival, and with the decline of democracy it gradually was lost. The Middle Attic dramas —so the historians tell us— divided themselves between literary and social satire ; when Roman Comedy is reached the literary satire has entirely dropped out, and the matter of that dramatic species is confined to the social satire which belongs to Comedy in all ages. The earlier phase of the transition may be illustrated from the Mysteries, which unites in about equal proportions literary and social satire : its generating action is dramatised raillery at woman, the main plot is a parody on Euripides. Development has proceeded a stage further in the Women in Parlimnent, which is entirely devoted to burlesquing socialist theories of communism. The women, by means of a conspiracy, have obtained the rule of their city : they announce a revolution, which their leader explains in detail to her objecting husband \ All things are henceforth to be in common : land, property, even women and children.— But, it is asked, how will people be induced to give their property in to the common stock ? —The answer is, that there will be no object in keeping it back, when they can get everything for nothing.— But, if there is no money, how will a defeated suitor pay his damages ?— * Women itt Parliament, 584-729. The Wo- ffien in Parlia- ment 368 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION Chap. X. There will be no law-suits. But if he has committed some criminal offence ? — Deprive him, is the answer, of his share in the Common Meal. Though, why should he want to steal, when everything is his without stealing? — Subsequent scenes display the working of this social system. Commu- nity of goods is illustrated in its application to two contrasting types of character. Simple is seen bringing out of his house all the articles of his moveable property, arranging them in processional order : he is preparing to transfer them, as in duty bound, to the common stock. Smart comes upon him, and is wholly unable to understand his neighbour's zeal in the duties of citizenship. Do you think any man with a head on his shoulders will give up his property ? It is unconstitutional. Man's whole duty is summed up in receiving what is given. And the same with the gods: the statues before which we pray, have they not the hollow of the hand turned upwards as if to accept, not downward as if they meant to bestow ? After a long discussion Simple still refuses to be moved from his purpose. Just as he is starting w^ith his goods for the tow^n hall, a proclamation is heard summoning the citizens to the Common Meal. The zeal now passes from Simple to Smart : the latter is active in fulfilling this part of citizenship, while Simple has scruples because he has not yet taken the preliminary step of handing over his property. Smart of course is in the same position. Simple. And you mean to go to the Meal all the same ? Smart. What is one to do ? An honest man must do all that in him lies to serve his country. Another scene exhibits in operation the principle of com- munity in women. Everybody may love everybody else, and the old and ugly are to have the prior right. The scene represents a young and an old woman contending for a handsome young man : two more old women come as allies to their comrade, carry off the young man, and then fight over him with one another. The conclusion is a pro- MYTHOLOGICAL SATIRE. 369 cession to the Common Meal in which the audience are Chap. X. invited to join ^. The spirit of license and application to politics came into Aristo- Old Attic Comedy, not naturally, but as a result of Q-'comedyas distinct disturbing influence; it is necessary to point ^ut a «^«'^^y^- that when this passed away a new disturbing influence ap- fll^n'f!" peared in its place. Democracy yielded at Athens to aristocracy, and aristocracy, we have seen, had its own type of comedy. Accordingly from the time of Aristophanes the Sicilian model— which even under the democratic rt^gime had been represented by one Athenian poet. Crates— came to the front ; and one particular feature of Sicilian Comedy, the use of mythology as a means of satire, was, historians especially. say, a distinction of the lost Middle Attic comedies. This f^f^f^^f^' phase of the transition is illustrated in the last play of Aristophanes, which is a social satire conveyed in a mythic story. The FMus is a dramatised allegory of money viewed T/ie Pin- ttiS from various^ standpoints, and it is made to centre round Plutus, mythical god of wealth. The hero, accompanied by his slave, follows a blind old man whom, by advice of an oracle, they seek to secure. After some enquiries the old man admits himself to be no other than the god of wealth. After they have got over the sensation produced by the announcement the master and slave pursue their enquiries. They remark on the squalor of the god, and he explains this as due to a certain miser's house in which he has resided. His bhndness, Plutus says, was the act of Jupiter, who feared he might confine his favours to the good, as a result of which the gods would lose the uncertainty of fortune which leads mankind to prayers and offerings. The hero proposes to open the god's eyes : Plutus is terrified at the thought of Jupiter's anger, and is reassured only with 1 Women in Pari, 730-876, 877-11 11. Bb ' See above, page 327. 37° ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. a difficulty that suggests the timidity of capital. When at last he is convinced that he himself, and not the gods, is the real source of all power, Plutus gives himself up to his human captors. When the Chorus of Neighbours has been summoned to rejoice, and another neighbour of the hero has — in a scene already quoted— illustrated the suspicions which a sudden accession of wealth will arouse in a man's friends and gossips, a diversion is effected which brings out one of the most important phases in the allegory. A hideous hag bursts in, and reproaches the hero with doing a hasty and unholy deed in seeking to open the blind god's eyes. This is Poverty, and she wages a long contest with the hero. His case is that Plutus, when once his eyes are opened, must reverse the inequalities of society, and bestow fortune on the good. Here is a rogue, who is rolling in riches robbed from his fellows to feather his nest; There are the honest, who never knew fortune, never from hunger or scantiness free, All through a life of toil unending, desperate Poverty, stable with thee. Poverty calls the hero a dotard for not perceiving that with the loss of such inequalities will cease the motive of all enterprise. Plutus will see and divide himself equally ; Science and Art will fall into decay. Who will be smith? or shipwright? or shoemaker? who will tan leather? or puddle in clay? Who will look after the ploughing and reaping? washing of linen ? or setting a stitch ? Who is to care for laborious arts, when all may be idle, as all will be rich? Hero. Truce to your list, and the nonsense you're talking! all that we want our slaves will supply. Poverty. Aye,— but who will supply you the article, slaves? Hero. Slaves!— have we not money to buy? MYTHOLOGICAL SATIRE. 371 Poverty. Who is to sell them, when money's an article not in demand? Hero. Some lucre-led hound, Merchant in man- flesh from Thessaly coming; where, as we know, man-stealers abound. Poverty. Softly! but, as you order the world, there never will be a man-stealer at all : Who that is rich will encounter the risks that must to the share of a kidnapper fall ? Poverty presses her claim to be the origin of all luxuries : I, like a sharp tyrannical mistress, ever sit by the artificer's side Threatening death, or making him work for a call from within that will not be denied. The contest is kept up with spirit on both sides, until, neither party convincing the other, Poverty is driven off. After scenes devoted to the opening of Plutus's eyes in the temple of Aesculapius, and the rejoicings at this event, we get to the effects upon society of the new distribution of wealth. In one scene a Just Man arrives for the purpose of offering thanksgiving to Plutus at his deliverance from life-long poverty, the result of helping ungrateful friends. He brings his thread-bare cloak and clouted shoes to dedicate them before the god. To him then enters an Informer, in distress that his trade no longer pays, and he is being ruined. The usual badgering of this unpopular occupation follows. The Informer tries to represent himself as a pillar of the state, whose sole object is to uphold the laws and hinder wrong-doing. Hero. Has not the constitution appointed magistrates for this express purpose? Informer. But who is to act as accuser? Hero. The constitution provides — whoever pleases. Informer. That means me. The burden of the constitution rests on my shoulders. Hero. Alas, poor constitution! In the end the Informer is compelled to change clothes B b 2 Chap. X. 372 ANCIENT COMEDY IN TRANSITION. Chap. X. with the Just Man and then driven off. In another scene an Old Woman complains of a youth, poor but wondrous fair, who but a little while ago loved her, and loaded her with caresses : but now for some reason has suddenly deserted her. The reason is apparent as the youth enters, crowned with chaplets and accompanied by a band of torchlight revellers, manifestly one who has prospered by the new dispensation. The far-reaching effect of the social revolution is brought out when Hermes appears, complaining that his ofifice of usher to heaven is fast becoming worthless, since men no longer look to the gods for their prosperity. He proposes to take service with Plutus : and goes through the list of his divine offices. He will be their Turnkey. — But they never lock their doors. — Then their Chief Merchant. — But with their fill of riches they have no need to drive bargains. — Then let him be made Trickster-General. — But men are going in for innocence. — At least he can be Marshal of the Way. — No : the god with his opened eyes can see to walk alone. — So Hermes has to enlist as Pudding-washer. A climax is reached when last of all comes the Priest of Jupiter himself: the temples are deserted, and his occupa- tion is gone. He too enlists in the service of Plutus, and a farcical procession of triumph closes the play. These are the lines of development which may be traced as commencing in the plays of Aristophanes, and pro- and satiric cecding through the lost Middle Attic Comedy to culminate apphca- |j^ ^^ drama of Rome. There is one more phase of tion. ^ Transitional Comedy, from a modern stand-point the most important of all, which hardly admits of illustration from Aristophanes. This depends upon the varying balance between dramatic form and satiric application. In all Greek Comedy, as we know it, the comedy is the means, and satire is the end. But in proportion as the satire became more general it was necessarily weakened ; satire struggle between comic form RISE OF PURE COMEDY, 373 implies hostility, and when the foibles attacked are those Chap. X. common to human nature in general they cease to excite hostility. Accordingly in time the comic effect became the end, and satire sank into one amongst many modes of comedy. But to see with any clearness this emergence of pure Comedy out of satire we must wait for the drama of Rome. XI. Roman Comedy. 1. Roman Comedy as a Dramatic Species, 2. The Trinummus of Plautus. 3. Traces of the Chorus in Roman Comedy, 4. General Dramatic Features of Roman Comedy. 5. Motives in Roman Comedy. XI. 1. Eoman Comedy as a Dramatic Species. The next and final stage of the Ancient Drama has come Chap. XI. down to us in the form of Roman Comedy. It has already j.^J^f^^^ been pointed out that this was wholly founded on the lost of Roman New Attic Comedy, of which the great master was Menan- %^^cZifJy. der \ Upon the relation between Roman Comedy and its Greek original considerable light is thrown by the prologues to the Latin plays, especially in the case of Terence, who has continually to defend himself against the malicious criticism of a rival. The prologues generally give the name, and often the author, of the Greek play, adding the new name under which the Roman poet has 'made his barbarian rendering''; this is done with a regularity which suggests that the audience expected such use of foreign material, and indeed in one play the Greek author's name is omitted on the ground that most of the spectators will be aware of it ^ The scene of the story is laid in Greece, usually at Athens. 'Tis the way With poets in their comedies to feign The business passed at Athens, so that you May think it the more Grecian. — For our play I'll not pretend the incidents to happen Where they do not : the argument is Grecian, And yet it is not Attic, but Sicilian*. So little attempt is there to give a Roman colouring to the incidents that the spectators are sometimes referred to as 1 Other names are Philemon, Apollodorus, Diphilus, Demophilus. 2 Vortit barbare : it must not be assumed that this means to translate. 3 The Self- Tormentor of Terence. * Prologue to the Memzchmei of Plautus. 378 ROMAN COMEDY, ROMAN COMEDY A DRAMATIC SPECIES, 379 Not trans lation : tion. Chap. XI. * barbarians.' Occasionally apology is made for some excep- tional peculiarity of Greek manners, as where the slave Sti- chus, granted a wine-cask with which to celebrate his master's return, bids the spectators feel no surprise at slaves having their parties and sweethearts and bottle, for such customs are allowable at Athens \ Yet it must not be supposed that the Roman poets merely translated individual Greek plays. Too literal adaptation is made by Terence a charge against his adversary, who is described as giving the close rendering that is loose writing, and turns good Greek into bad Latin : yet even this cannot have been continuous translation, since Lucius Lavinius is further charged w^ith a fault of arrangement — the clumsiness of making a defendant plead before the hit adapta- charge has been stated '^. It is clear that the Latin authors exercised a certain amount of selection in their use of Greek materials. We hear of omissions : the Brothers of Terence is described as being from a Greek original which had also been translated by Plautus ; — In the beginning of the Grecian play There is a youth, who rends a girl perforce From a slave-merchant : and this incident, Untouched by Plautus, rendered word for word, Has our bard interwoven with his Brothers. A more important matter is the weaving together of two Greek plays for the purpose of getting a more complex Latin plot. Menander wrote the Andrian and Perinthian : Know one, and you know both ; in argument Less different than in sentiment and style. AVhat suited with the Andrian he confesses From the Perinthian he transferred, and used For his: and this it is these slanderers blame, Proving by deep and learned disputation, That fables should not be compounded thus. Troth! all their knowledge is they nothing know: Who, blaming him, blame Naevius, Plautus, Ennius, Whose great example is his precedent. Whose negligence he'd wish to emulate Rather than their dark diligence ^ Chap. XI. * Siichus, 446. * Prologue to the Eunuch of Terence. All this tends to show that Roman Comedy stood to the New Attic Comedy in the same general relation in which . Latin literature as a whole stood to the literature of Greece. Just as in philosophy Cicero shows no ambition to be an independent thinker, but declares it his purpose to de- monstrate that the Latin language is capable of expressing Greek dialectics, so the comic poets of Rome merely endeavoured to give their countrymen, in their own lan- guage, what was the acted drama of the educated classes throughout Greece. What differences there were between TJuj-ivo^ Roman and New Attic Comedy were differences affectmg{^^^'^^^^^. authorship and the credit of individual poets : in literary de- species. velopment the two form one dramatic species. The same principle applies to the course of Roman Comedy viewed by itself. The names of eleven dramatists' have been preserved : the works of only two amongst them have come down to us. The earliest comic poet of Rome followed Menander by about half a century : in another half century we come to Plautus, and Terence is a quarter of a century later still. But the close following of the Greek original gives a unity to Latin drama, irrespective of the period over which its history may be spread. It is easy to 1 Prologue to the Andria of Terence. It would seem that such combination of Greek plays was rather the rule than the exception, since the prologue to the Self- Tormentor makes a point of its being 'an entire play from an entire Greek source.' [Parry's explanation of Integra as fresh (the meaning being that the Greek play had never before been translated) seems to me very difficult to accept : such a sense could not apply to both the uses of the word-^^ integra Graeca tntegram comoediam. Moreover novam is used for a fresh play in Phormto, 25.] « Livius Andronicus, Naevius, Ennius, Plautus, Pacuvius, Caecilms, Porcius Licinius, Terence and his adversary Lucius Lavinius, Accius, Afranius. V 38o ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI. point out characteristic differences between Plautus and Terence; but these amount to no more than may safely be assigned to the genius of the individual poet, and offer nothing that suggests any distinct process of literary develop- ment. Stage arrange- ments. Scene and Personages. 2. The Trinummus of Plautus. The Roman stage, though not a permanent erection but only a temporary platform, was even more limited in its conventionalities than the stage of the Athenian theatre. It was not furnished with machinery or movable scenery, but represented a fixed exterior— some street into which houses or other public buildings opened : and to this limited scene all the business of every play had to be adapted. One characteristic the Roman stage shared with the Greek— that of size, a frontage of as much as i8o feet being claimed for it. This accounts for the frequency with which the scenes present long wanderings, slaves running about, and keep persons who enter or make exit a considerable time in view ^ Plautus's play The Fee of Three Pieces {Trimwwius) has its scene laid at Athens in the street adjoining the house of Charmides, one of its leading personages. This Charmides is absent on a mercantile expedition during the greater part of the play : his family includes a daughter and a spendthrift son Lesbonicus, and in close connexion with them is a friend, Callicles, whom the merchant, before departing, had begged to exercise a general superintendence over his heed- less son's affairs. This family is by the plot of the play to ' It may be well to explain that the doors of these houses opened outwards, persons coming into the street from within being supposed to give a warning knock ; often in comic scenes a personage thus entering holds a long colloquy first with those inside the house. THE TRINUMMUS, 381 be brought into connexion with another, consisting of an Chap. XL old gentleman, Philto, and his son Lysiteles. The Roman comedies have no chorus, and are cast in the familiar modern form of five separate acts ; there is no dramatic provision made for filling up the intervals between these acts, though as a fact, performances of music were used for this purpose. The prologue to the Trinujnmus is Prologue allegorical : it is spoken by Luxury, who appears conducting her daughter Poverty to the house of Charmides. She ex- plains to the audience : There is a certain youth dwells in this house, "Who by my aid has squandered his estate. Since then for my support there's nothing left, My daughter I'm here giving him to live with. After the usual explanation as to the Greek source of the play. Luxury disappears with her daughter into the house, and leaves the scene free for the opening of the play. The friend who is supposed to watch over the merchant's Act I. interests in his absence has himself a confidential friend, Megaronides. The latter is the first personage to appear before us ; he is on his way to make a call upon Callicles, and soliloquises upon the painful duty he feels of reproach- ing his comrade with declension from his old uprightness. Callicles meets him, and in the small talk with which their conversation opens we have a stock topic of Roman wit — abuse of wives. Meg. Save you, Callicles: How do you do ? how have you done ? Cal. So, so. Meg. Your wife how fares she? Cal. Better than I wish. Meg. Troth, I am glad to hear she's pure and hearty. Cal. You're glad to hear what sorrows me. Meg, I wish The same to all my friends as to myself. Cal. But hark ye, — how is your good dame? 382 Chap. XI. Me^. ROMAN COMEDY, Immortal : Lives and is like to live. ^^^' A happy hearing ! Pray heav'n, that she may last to outlive you. Meg. If sne were yours, faith, I should wish the same. Cal. Say, shall we make a swop ? I take your wife, You mine? I warrant you, you would not get The better in the bargain. ^^S- Nor would you Surprise me unawares. ^^^' Nay, but in troth You would not even know what you're about. Meg. Keep what you've got. The evil that we know Is best. To venture on an untried ill. Would puzzle all my knowledge how to act. Megaronides suddenly dismisses jesting, and begins to talk severely about the change in his friend's character. He would fain have him free from blame and even suspicion. Cal Meg. Cal. Both cannot be. For why? Is that a question? Myself of my own bosom keep the key, To shut out misdemeanour; but suspicion Is harboured in another. Conjured by Callicles as a close friend to say what is the drift of these suspicions, Megaronides details the opinion which the town is beginning to have of him— how he is nick-named Gripe-all, Vulture, and the like : and particularly how people talk about his behaviour to his absent friend Charmides. This Charmides is understood to have committed the general welfare of his family and affairs to Callicles, his own son bemg a fast youth, not to be trusted with money : now mstead of seeking to restrain the young man, people say Callicles IS abetting his extravagances, and has actually, when the scapegrace sought to raise money by selling his father's house, aided his plans by himself becoming the buyer To the astonishment of Megaronides, Callicles admits that this rumour is perfectly true j he then, with great caution and THE TRINUMMUS. 383 secrecy, lets out the whole story. Charmides, on leaving Chap. XI. Athens, committed to him a family secret, that a huge treasure was buried in the house, of which the father dared not let the son have any knowledge lest in his absence he should appropriate it. Now Callicles learned all of a sudden that Lesbonicus was going to sell the house : alarmed lest the treasure should pass out of their hands altogether, he saw no better device than for himself to purchase the house, and keep it in trust for the father's return, or for the daughter's marriage portion. Megaronides is confounded at the mistake he has made, and, when the two friends have amicably parted, inveighs against the gossip of busybodies who had led him astray ; Everything They will pretend to know, yet nothing know. They'll dive into your breast, and learn your thoughts, Present and future : nay, they can discover What the king whispered in her highness's ear. And tell what passed in Juno's chat with Jove. With the exit of Megaronides the first act concludes. The Act II. second introduces us to the family of Philto. Both father and son in this family are distinguished by a strongly marked characteristic — the strain of moralising which they carry through all the scenes in which they appear. This tendency to indulge in moral reflections, especially in lengthened soliloquies, is a great note of Roman Comedy. It is in part a survival from the Chorus, which had by now passed out of the comic drama. The highly conventional tone which distinguished the musings of the tragic Chorus appears also in these moral declamations of Comedy. And often, as in the present case, such reflections are expressed in highly lyric Lyric style — lyric, both in the choice of metres ^ far removed from ''^^'^■^" blank verse, and in the continual variation of the metres within the compass of a few lines. * Especially those founded on the Cretic foot [a short between two longs : - V -] and the bacchiac foot [a short followed by two longs : w - -]. 384 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap. XL Lysiteles is presented soliloquising on life with its perplex- ing alternatives. " — Unnumbered the cares that my heart is revolving, Unmeasured the trouble I bear while 1 ponder; Myself with myself is afflicted and wasted. My thoughts are a master that cruelly drives me : Yet still comes no answer, no end to my query — To which life of two shall my years be devoted, To love, or to business ? to which cause give verdict And firmly pursue it? „ - The matter never will conclude : unless — the thought just strikes me — I bring the parties face to face, myself both bar and jury. _ ^ _ So I'll do. So be it. First in order „ _ ni speak for the pursuit of love, and see what recommends it. _ „ Love has none but willing subjects : in his nets none other snares But the loving: these he aims at, these pursues, their substance wastes. „ — Smooth-spoken, sharp-finger'd, a liar, a sweet-tooth, A robber, a bane to the life of seclusion, A hunter of secrets. - „ Let a lover but be stricken with the kiss of her he loves, - „ - In a trice all he has creeps away, melts away. * Give me this, honey dear, by our love, do not fail ' : — And the goose must reply, ' Heart of mine, be it so : Also that, also more, what you wish shall be given.' - V Thus a victim bound she strikes : Begs for more, unsatisfied. Lysiteles details the endless waste of money that such a life of pleasure involves, and how moments of bitterness and loss of higher joys counterbalance its sweet carousings. The case goes against love. ^ — Begone, Love, the word of divorcement is spoken : - „ - Love to me never more be a lover ; Seek the sad wights who still must obey thee. Made thy slaves by too willing obedience. It is fixed : I am all for what profits. Never mind what the toil be of seeking. This the prize is of good men's endeavour — Solid gain, credit high, posts of honour: This the grace, this the glory of living. Be it mine; other life is but hollow. THE TRINUMMUS, 385 w Philto enters looking for his son : his opening words seem Chap. XL attracted to the general rhythm of what has preceded. . Philto. Where on earth has the man found his way from the house ? Lysit. I'm here, sir : command me : I'll not be found backward : In me is no skulking, no fear of your presence. Philto. That will be like the rest of your dutiful life. If the son to the sire never fails in respect. The father, without further preface, plunges into lyric de- nunciation of modern degeneracy : Upsetting all the good old ways, an evil, grasping, greedy crew. They hold the sacred as profane; public or private, all is one. Night and day Philto is tormented with thinking on the age of villainy into which his years have been prolonged, from which he beseeches his son to hold himself aloof : I nm weary of all these new fashions. All that goodness adorns overthrowing. If but these my injunctions you follow. Words of wisdom will sink in your bosom. The son gives in his adhesion to his father's views : it will be noticed that, having a purpose to lead the conversation in a particular direction, Lysiteles abandons lyrics for a set rhythm which is maintained to the end of the scene. Lysit. From my earliest youth, my father, to this present age have I Bound myself a duteous bondsman laws by you laid down to heed : Free I ranked myself in spirit, but, where your command came in. Duty have I ever deemed it will of mine to yours to bind. The father continues his lecture, and depicts youth fighting its own desires : Routed by desire, he's done for : slave to lust, no freeman he, If desire he routs, then lives he, conqueror of conquerors. The son repeats his claim to have lived an obedient and innocent life. The father seems to resent such a claim : if c c 386 ROMAN COMEDY. THE TRINUMMUS, 387 Chap. XL his son has done well, the gain is his, not his father's for whom life is wellnigh over. Cover o'er just deeds with just deeds, tile-like, till no rain come through. Only he is good whose goodness ever keeps him penitent. For this very reason, the son replies, he wishes to ask his father's assistance in doing a kindness to a friend in trouble. But the mention of trouble sets the father off on a fresh train of moralising, and he shows the danger of so helping the bad as to feed their distemper. Gnomic verses garnish the dialogue. When Lysiteles speaks of being ashamed to desert a comrade in his adversity, Philto replies : He that shames to sin has gained o'er sinner shamed by all that shame. But, urges the son, they are rich enough and to spare. Philto. From however much however little take : is't more or less ? Gnome answers gnome : Lysiteles quotes the saying to the churlish citizen : All you have may you be lacking: what you now are free from, have : You who neither give to others, nor for your own profit save. When Philto hears who the friend is that his son wishes to relieve— the spendthrift Lesbonicus— the father becomes ' severe again, and will not listen to the plea that Lesbonicus has been unfortunate For, by heaven, the wise man s fortune only by himself is shaped. Lysiteles urges that time is required to mature such wisdom. Philto. Length of years is but the relish : wisdom is the food of life. At last Lysiteles is allowed to explain that he wishes, not to give his friend anything, but to receive from him his sister in I marriage without a dowry. After further discussion, Philto Chap. XI. is brought not only to give his consent, but also himself to undertake the task of making overtures to Lesbonicus. When his son has left him (and the scene has dropped to blank verse), Philto indulges in one more reflection, that — unless in a matter particularly affecting himself — a father is a fool who thwarts a son's wishes : Plagues his own soul, nor is the better for it; And stirring up a storm that's out of season, Makes the hoar winter of old age more sharp. It is a convention of the Roman stage — a result of its inability to present the interior of houses — that when a personage in a play goes to make a call upon another, this other is usually brought to meet him accidentally in the street on his way. So in the present case Philto's soliloquy is interrupted by the approach of the very man to whom he has undertaken a mission. Lesbonicus is seen coming up the street, attended by his slave Stasimus. The master is angry at hearing that all the money so lately received for the sale of the house is already gone; he demands what has been done with it. Stas. Eaten and drunk, and washed away in baths; Cooks, butchers, poulterers, fishmongers, confectioners, Perfumers, have devoured it ; — gone as soon As a grain of corn thrown to an ant. With the permitted pertness which ancient Comedy loved to introduce into its pictures of slave life Stasimus adds that his master must not forget to allow for his own pilfer- ings, and Lesbonicus admits that that will be a heavy item. Philto discovers himself, and after general courtesies makes his proposal. While the slave can hardly keep himself quiet at the idea of so grand a match, Lesbonicus treats it as a mockery : he is no longer on a footing of social equality with Philto's family. c c 2 388 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XL Philto Lesb. Stas. What of that ? If you were present at a public feast, And haply some great man were placed beside you, Of the choice cates served up in heaps before him Would you not taste, but at the table rather Sit dinnerless, because he neighbour'd you? Sure I should eat, if lie forbade me not. And I, ev'n if he did ;— so cram myself I'd stuff out both my cheeks: I'd seize upon The daintiest bits before him, nor give way to him In matters that concerned my very being. At table no one should be shy or mannerly. Where all things are at stake, divine and human. Philio. Faith, what you say is right. Stas. I'll tell you fairly. Your great man if I meet, I make way for him, Give him the wall, show him respect, but where The belly is concern'd, I will not yield An inch,— unless he box me into breeding. The opportunity for moralising is not lost by Philto. He urges that where perfection is unattainable the policy yet remains of nearness to perfection. What are riches? — The gods alone are rich: to them alone Is wealth and pow'r : but we poor mortal men. When that the soul, which is the salt of life Keeping our bodies from corruption, leaves us, At Acheron shall be counted all alike, The beggar and the wealthiest. Lesbonicus, moved by this persistent kindness, at last bethinks him of a httle farm he has, the only bit of his ancestral estate now left to him : he insists upon making this his sister's dowry. In the utmost alarm the slave protests against parting with this land — their nurse that supports and feeds them. Chidden by Lesbonicus for interfering, Stasimus sees nothing but ruin before him unless he can manage to make an impression upon Philto. He takes him aside, with the air of confiding to him an important secret. THE TRINUMMUS, 389 By gods and men I do conjure you, let not this same farm Come into your possession, or your son's, The reason will I tell. Philto. I fain would hear it. Stas. First, then, whene'er the land is ploughed, the oxen Ev'ry fifth furrow drop down dead. Philto. Fye on it ! Stas. A passage down to Acheron's in our field ; The grapes grow mouldy as they hang, before They can be gathered. Lesbonicus is surprised at the length of this whispered colloquy, but supposes his faithful rogue is taking the task of persuading Philto off his shoulders. Stas. Hear what follows. When that the harvest promises most fair. They gather in thrice less than what was sown. Philto. Nay ! —then methinks it were a proper place For men to sow their wild oats, where they would not Spring up. Stas. There never was a person yet. That ever owned this farm, but his affairs • Did turn to bad: — some ran away, some died. Some hang'd themselves. Why, there's my master, now. To what sad straits is he reduced ! Philto. O keep me Far from this farm ! Stas, You'd have more cause to say so, Were you to hear the whole. There's not a tree, But has been blasted with the lightning; more — The hogs are eat up with the mange ; the sheep Pine with the rot, all scabby as this hand : And no man can live there six months together, No, not a Syrian, though they are most hardy, The influenza is to all so fatal. Philto. I do believe it true : but the Campanians The Syrians far outgo in hardiness. — This farm is a fit spot, as you've described it, Wherein to place bad men, and, as they tell us That in those islands still 'The Fortunate' Assemble the upright and the virtuous livers, So should the wicked here be thrust together. Chap. XI. 390 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap. XI. Philto has been as ready to be deceived as Stasimus to deceive him, and so, when the slave adds that his master is seeking some one simple enough to take the dangerous possession off his hands, declares he will have none of it. Returning to Lesbonicus, Philto makes the betrothal a formal agreement, adding that this business of the farm must be settled between Lesbonicus and the bridegroom. The scene ends with the slave pressing his master to follow up such a chance instantly. Act III. Stasimus has been sent to announce the betrothal to the lady concerned. On his way he meets her guardian Cal- licles, and at the opening of the third act he is telling Callicles the news : the dialogue is in the same rhythm in which the first idea of the marriage was opened to Philto. Callicles goes off wondering how the girl can have secured so good a match without dower. — Then the slave sees his master and Lysiteles disputing warmly, evidently about this vexed question of the farm, in which Stasimus feels so keen a personal interest that he stands aside and listens. This dispute is long and earnest, bringing out the contrast of character between the two friends. Lesbonicus is pre- sented as a spendthrift who is notwithstanding stubborn in his notions of family honour, though the assertion of it be at the cost of his own ruin. Lysiteles, with his tendency to moralising, reads lectures to his companion upon his dissipated life, pressing upon him not to throw away this last chance of making a fresh start. Lesbonicus admits everything: how he has dissipated his inheritance and tarnished the family name, and has no excuse but that he has been subdued by love and idleness. Lysiteles will not give up the cause, though grieved that his friend has so little shame : Once for all, unless you heed me, this occasion unimproved, You will lie in your own shadow, hid from light of honour's sun. THE TRINUMMUS. 391 He knows the better nature of Lesbonicus ; and he has Chap. XI. himself experienced the power of love : Like a stone from warlike engine, swiftest speed has passion's flight : Passion's ways are ever wayward, passion is all frowardness : Disinclined to what is offered, coveting what is withheld, Made by scarcity desirous, careless when abundance comes. Lesbonicus lightly turns off his friend's warnings, but sticks to his point, that he cannot, after wasting the family property for his own enjoyments, let his sister go without her natural dowry, a mistress rather than a wife : Let me not by loss of honour seek relief from loss of wealth. Lysiteles sees what all this means. His friend will insist on giving up this the last bit of property left him and the only hope for recovering his losses, and then, as soon as the marriage is over, he will fly from his native land, a needy adventurer in the wars. At this — the very fear that has been troubling him all along — the concealed Stasimus can restrain himself no longer. ' Bravo ! ' he cries to Lysiteles, * encore ! you've won the prize ' — and follows up the attack upon Lesbonicus, who promptly snubs him. Lesb. What brings here your meddling chatter? Stas. What — shall take it back again. Stasimus retires into the background, and the conversation at last ends by Lysiteles insisting that there shall be no marriage portion, and that Lesbonicus shall use his purse as his own, or there must be an end of their friendship. They part, and the slave gives himself up to despair, with no prospect before him but the arduous life of a soldier's attendant, as his master attaches himself to the army of some prince or other. Verily to highest standard will he rise — of swift retreat ! Glorious spoils will there be taken — where a foe my master fronts ! So shall I myself, once furnished with my quiver and my bow, Helmet on my head, be snatching — sweetest slumber in my tent. 392 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap. XI. Exit Stasimus. Enter Megaronides and Callicles. They are consulting (in blank verse) upon the entirely new turn given to the affairs of the family in which they are interested by this matter of the betrothal. Callicles cannot let his friend's daughter be married like a pauper : he could easily get money enough for the dowry out of the buried treasure, but under what pretext can he present it to the girl, with- out exciting suspicion? At last Megaronides hits upon a brilliant idea. Let them get one of the professional Sharpers that are ready to be hired for any purpose of conspiracy ; and let him — for a consideration — pretend that he has come from Charmides who remains abroad, bringing to Callicles money with which to dower his daughter should she marry. Diffi- culties of detail, such as forging the letter, and accounting for the absence of the signet-ring which would naturally accompany it, they rapidly arrange, and proceed to the execution of the scheme. Act IV. This concludes the third act : the fourth opens with the arrival of the person whose absence was the foundation of the whole intrigue. Charmides has just landed from his voyage, and is heard offering thanks to the gods for his safety. He speaks in a rhythm which is an elongated variation of that in which the more important scenes of the play have been cast. Him who rules with mighty ruling briny ocean, Jove's own brother, Nereus too, and thee Portumnus, glad I praise : I thank the salt waves. You that had me in your power, me and mine, my life and riches, That from out your dread dominions thus far safe have brought me homeward. And to thee before all others, Neptune, is my spirit grateful, For, while men have called thee cruel, stern of mood, unsatiated, Measureless in might and foulness, I thy kindly aid have tasted. Merciful and calm I found thee, all that heart could wish of ocean. This fair word of thee hath uttered human voice in human hearing, How thou lov St to spare the poor man, mulct the rich, and break their spirit, THE TRINUMMUS, 393 Fare thee wel : I praise thy justice worthy gods, that men so rankest, Chap XI To the poor thy hand restraining, letting it on pride fall heavy. * I'aithful thou, whom men call faithless. Surely, but for thy pro- tection ^ ^ Foully had thy underworkers torn in pieces, widely scattering, Wretched me and my belongings, broadcast o'er the sky-blue meadows : Lo, like hungry hounds the whirlwinds round about the ship were circling, *^ Floods above us, waves beneath us, howling gales on mainmast swoopmg. Toppling yards and canvas splitting : then a gracious calm was sent us. Here we part : henceforth to leisure am I given: enough is Cares enough have I encountered, seeking for my son a fortune. His meditations are interrupted by the approach of the hired Sharper, who enters peering up and down the street dressed m a queer imitation of foreign costume, especially a broad hat, which makes Charmides refer the stranger to the mushroom genus. The Sharper is heard naming the day as the Feast of the Three Pieces, the price of his art. Here am I, from Seleucia just arrived', Arabia, Asia, Macedon,— which I never Saw with my eyes, nor ever once set foot on. Behold, what troubles will not poverty Bring on a needy wretch! Charmides does not like the man's face, and, when he per- ceives him looking hard at his own house door, thinks it time to make enquiry. He finds that the man is actually seeking his son Lesbonicus, and pours out a flood of questions as to his name and business, which the Sharper coolly proposes to take in regular order. Sharper. Should you set out before the day began With the first part and foremost of my name, The night would go to bed ere you had reach'd The hindmost of it. » These quotations are from Bonnell Thornton's blank verse translation: the scene in the original is trochaic. 394 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XT. Charm. He had need of torches And of provisions, whoso undertakes To journey through it. Sharper. I've another name, though, A tiny one, no bigger than a hogshead. Charm. This is a rogue in grain ! As to his business, the Sharper tells Charmides, much to his astonishment, that he is the bearer of letters from the father of Lesbonicus to his son and Callicles. Charmides thinks he has caught a cheat in the very act of cheating, and pre- pares to have rare fun with him in pushing his enquiries as to the person from whom the letters come. Charm. What sort of man ? Sharper. He's taller than yourself By half a foot. Charm, {aside). Faith, he has gravell'd me, To find that I was taller when away Than now I'm here. Of course the Sharper knows the man in question, and was his messmate ; but, asked his name, finds to his dismay that his memory has played him a trick, and the name is clean forgotten. In vain he evades the question : he is pressed with a string of queries and tantalising suggestions, before the name * Charmides ' is tried. — Sharper. That's it. The gods confound him! Chartn. 'Tis fitter you should bless a friend than curse him. Sharper. A worthless fellow, to have lain perdue thus Within my lips and teeth. Charm. You should not speak Hi of an absent friend. Sharper. Why did the rogue Then hide him from me? Charm. He had answer'd, had you But called him by his name. In the course of further questionings the Sharper, whose role is boldness, volunteers an account of his wonderful travels : how they came first to Araby in Pontus. — THE TRINUMMUS, 395 Charm. Is Araby in Pontus? Sharper. Yes, it is; But not that Araby, where frankincense Is grown, but where sweet-marjorum and wormwood. Charm, {aside). 'Tis the completest knave ! When the story begins to tell of sailing in a small cock-boat up the river that rises out from heaven itself, and of finding Jove out of town, it becomes too much for Charmides' patience. The Sharper coolly returns to his first enquiry— where Lesbonicus lives. The father thinks it will be the cream of the joke if he can get from this Sharper the three thousand Philippeans with which, as well as the letters, he claims to have been trusted. Charm. You received them, did you, Of Charmides himself? Sharper. it had been wondrous Had I received them of his grandsire, truly, Or his great-grandsire, who are dead. Charm. young man. Prithee give me the gold. Sharper. Give you what gold ? Charm. That which you own'd you did receive of me. Sharper. Received of you ? Charm. I say it. Sharper. Who are you ? Charm. Who gave to you the thousand pieces:— I Am Charmides. But the Sharper can now turn the balance of suspicious appearances against, his interrogator : When I said I had brought gold You then were Charmides; before you were not, Till I made mention of the gold. 'Twont do. So prithee, as you've taken up the name Of Charmides, e'en lay it down again. Besides, he has brought only bills, not coin. On hearing this, Charmides bids him begone under pain of a thrashing. Before moving off, the Sharper puts the question once more. I pray you, are you he ? Charm. Yes, I am he. Chap. XI. 396 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI. Sharper. What say you ! are you he ? Charm. I am, I say. Sharper. Himself? Charm. 1 say, I'm Charmides himself. Sharper. And are you he himself? Charm. His very self. Then the Sharper confounds him by all the gods for his inopportune arrival, just spoiling a job. Fortunately he has pocketed his fee : he will go to those who hired him, and let them know their money is thrown away. When he is at last alone, Charmides wonders what the meaning of all this business can be : the bell does not clink without being handled. The first explanation he gets comes in the form of a scene peculiarly popular with Roman dra- matists, who had many different tastes to satisfy : — the con- ventional incident of a slave running to and fro and talking to himself. Stasimus has lost a ring at the tippling-shop, and hesitates whether it is worth while to go back and seek it from amongst a host of whipped knaves, one of whom stole a shoe from a runner's foot at the top of his speed. He at last decides not to go, and finds a vent for his ill-humour at the loss in a tirade against the degenerate morals of the day. Charmides recognises his own slave, and, after some trouble in stopping him, gives Stasimus an opportunity of recognising * the best of masters,' but cuts his raptures short to make enquiries. From Stasimus Charmides hears the worst in- sinuations as to the action taken by Callicles in his absence : but the appearance of Callicles at this point soon removes the misunderstanding : the slave characteristically maintains his unfavourable opinion to the last. The final act is occupied with the meeting between Char- mides and the other personages of the story, together with the clearing up of all that is obscure. The merchant con- firms the betrothal of his daughter to Lysiteles, and provides an ample dowry for her, notwithstanding her lover's protest : THE TRINUMMUS. 397 Act V. if he likes the girl, Charmides insists, he must like the Chap. XL portion too. Lesbonicus has to bear only gentle reproaches from his father : to assist his reform the daughter of Callicles is offered him for a wife. Lesbonicus declares he will take her, and, he adds, any one else his father wishes. Charm. Angry though I be with you, One man one woe, is the quota. Callicles. Nay, too little in this case : Since for such a hardened sinner twenty wives were not too much. Lesbonicus promises amendment, and all ends happily. ■ft 8. Traces of the Chorus in Roman Comedy. When we survey Roman Comedy in comparison with what Loss of we have previously seen of the ancient drama, the feature that Chorus and . transition most prommently strikes us is the total loss of the Chorus ^ to modem — that which gave to the ancient drama its chief distinc- •^^''«<^^«''^- tiveness. Under Aristophanes the use of the Chorus had already begun to decline, and we saw examples of plays in which it was neglected for hundreds of lines together. In the period of transition we are told that the difficulty of finding volunteers to undertake the great expense attaching to choral performances favoured their disuse. Moreover the Chorus was a foreign element in drama, and doubly foreign ^ in Comedy, and it could maintain itself only by struggling against the full force of natural development. By the loss of the Chorus, Comedy ceased to be a double form of art in which lyric was combined with dramatic. But even on the dramatic side the effect of the change was considerable. The Chorus had been the unity bond of the ancient drama, and the foundation of its structure as an alternation of odes and episodes : Roman Comedy, instead of being a continu- * Once in Plautus we have '(in the Rudens, Act II) ' Piscatores,' which maybe translated 'A Chorus of Fishermen': but this is what would have been called in Greek Drama a Secondary Chorus. / 398 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap. XI. The Chorus leaves traces in moral re- flections : in the soliloquy : and in the prologue and epi- logue. Various sources of the Latin prologue. ous whole, falls structurally into the form familiar to modern literature— a series of separate scenes (or acts) succeeding one another, with the intervals between them filled up, if necessary, by music. And— though the further stage was not reached by Roman Comedy— such multiplication of scenes was the prehminary step towards free change of scene, carrying with it unUmited assumption of intervals in time between the scenes, which is so essential an element of Shakespearean dramatic art. The transition from Old Attic to Roman Comedy is by far the most distinctive phase of the transition from ancient to modern literature. But the lyric element, which had played so important a part in ancient drama, had impressed upon Comedy certain features which survived when the Chorus itself had passed away. It has been already pointed out how moral reflections, of precisely the same type as those proper to a Greek Chorus, abound in Roman Comedy ; what before was concentrated in set odes is now scattered through the whole of a play, or gathers round particular individuals of a moralising turn, like Philto and Lysiteles in the Trinummus ; the approach to a Chorus is nearer still when these reflections are, as in the Trinummus, expressed in lyric metres. The soliloquy too— a thing hardly less conventional in an acted drama than a choral ode— becomes in the Latin plays a prominent dramatic device: great part of the action in Terence's Hecyra is brought out in soliloquies. Besides these representatives of the old Chorus, its general function has been partly absorbed by the Prologue and Epilogue. The term * prologue ' has in Roman Comedy its modern sense : it is no longer the opening scene, but a speech entirely outside the action. This prologue is manysided in its origin and developmental connexions. In part it associates itself with the direct explanation addressed to the audience so often by personages in plays of Aristophanes : in the Greek an occasional diversion, such explanations become, THE PROLOGUE, 399 by the general tendency towards regularity, a fixed function Chap. XI. for the prologue of Roman Comedy. Aristophanes usually employed such an explanatory digression to make clear the opening situation of his plays, and this is a leading purpose of the Latin prologue. An example is the Captives of Plautus ; and here — the situation being particularly intricate — the speaker of the prologue, after putting it once, finds a comic excuse for putting it a second time. Thus far d'ye understand me? — It is well — Yet I see one at distance, who in troth Sterns as he heard not. — Prithee, friend, come nearer; If not to sit, there's room at least to walk. What! would you make the player strain his voice, As if he were a beggar asking alms ? And such direct relations between performers and audience are sometimes resumed at the close of the play, in a manner foreshadowing the modern epilogue. In the Cistellaria the last scene ends with the principal personage entering the house to acknowledge his newly discovered daughter : the whole * caterva ' of actors advance to the front and speak a conclusion. Spectators, wait not for their coming out. None will return. — They'll finish all within. That done, they will undress. — He that's in fault, Will suffer for't, — he that is not, will drink Your healths. — Now, as to what remains for you, * Spectators, this our Comedy, thus ended. Follow your ancient custom and applaud. Where such explanation extends to a forecast of events yet to come, we may see a suggestion of the Euripidean prologue in Tragedy. This is especially the case in the allegorical or Allegorical mythic prologues of Plautus. One beautiful example is that ^ to the Rudens'. the story turns on a shipwreck, and the prologue is put into the mouth of Arcturus. By night I shine in heaven among the gods. And in the day-time mix with mortal men, Passing with other stars from heaven to earth. 400 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI. Connexicni of the pro- logue with the Chorus. Its ap- proach to the modern prologue. Jove, supreme sovereign of gods and men, Spreads us throughout all nations, several ways. To mark the people's actions, learn their manners, Their piety and faith, that so each man May find reward according to his virtues. Then follows a statement of the story-an attempt to carry away a slave-girl from the lover to whom she was pledged- and how he who speaks the prologue was gomg to defeat the wicked purpose, and by a storm bring the fugitives in o a situation which should issue in discoveries they little ^^^ " For I Arcturus am, of all the signs Most turbulent. But in addition to all these other originating influences for the Roman prologue, it has clearly taken over one important function of the Greek comic Chorus-that by which, in the parabasis, the Chorus spoke in the author's name to the public, after the fashion of a modem preface. It has been observed above how the Latin prologues regularly put the authorship and origin of the play, and how those of Terence carry on a literary war with another poet. Sometimes as in the Captives, the poet contends for the purity of his play, as Aristophanes had done. The prologue has a further point of connexion with the Chorus in the fact that it is not always at the commencement of the poem. In Plautuss Mighty Man of Valour the first act is given up to displaying Pyrgopolinices vapouring amongst his followers : at the be- ginning of the second act comes the ordinary prologue. In t\,tAmthitryo, Mercury, who atthe beginning makes a normal prefatory explanation, speaks again to the spectators in the second scene, while the third act opens with a regular Euripi- dean prologue spoken by Jupiter. In these various ways the prologue of Roman Comedy associates itself with the Chorus or other elements of the ancient drama. But it passes beyond these and makes advance towards the modern prologue, in the circumstance that it is often not assigned to any per- I METRICAL VARIATION-. 401 sonage, but is an abstract speech not connected with any Chap. XI. characterisation of the speaker : the prologue is not a portion of, but an external comment upon, the drama. But there is one literary usage, the product originally oi Metrical lyric influence, which survived the loss of the Chorus, and '^^^^^f^on a became a permanent element of poetic art : this was the}"Zlh! dramatic utilisation of variety in metrical style. The ^^o^^*^- peculiarities of pronunciation which make the prosody and scansion of Latin dramatic verses so intricate are outside the scope of this work : from the standpoint of literature we have to do only with whole passages in single or varying metres \ The Roman comedians are scarcely less remarkable than Aristophanes for their metrical elasti- city. The metres employed are much the same in both Latin me- languages. Latin and Greek blank verse are for the present ^''^^•■ purpose identical. The lyrics of Roman drama differ in one ^^''''^^'''''^^ important respect from Greek lyrics : the strophic treatment ^^''^"' almost entirely disappears, and the lyric effect in Latin is made (as remarked before) by the use of metres peculiarly distinct from blank verse, and by rapid variations of metre in successive lines. There is a Latin accelerated rhythm identical with the Greek metre I have called by that name, TalZnd and a still longer variety of trochaic style ^ : the two may be ^"^^ iambic illustrated by lines already quoted— ^^^^^''"' * I attach great importance to this principle. In Latin Comedy we find that, while metres like trochaics or blank verse will be maintained for scores or hundreds of lines together, there are passages in which metrical changes follow one another rapidly, often in successive lines. It seems clear to me that it is a mistake to seek literary significance in the analysis of individual lines : a passage over which these rapid changes extend should be treated as a whole, bound into a unity by the principle of variation in metre. I have treated such passages as * lyrics.' [E.g. Irinummus, commencement of Act II, lines 223-300.] ^ The technical names are trochaici septenarii and octonarii (or tro- chaic sevens and trochaic eights) ; or, with grammarians who measure by metres, trochaic tetrameter catalectic and acatalectic. \Catalectic implies that the final syllable is lacking.] D d 402 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap XL Metrical The pre- lude mage of lyrics. Length of years is but the relish : wisdom is the food of life. Merciful and calm I found thee, all that heart could wish of ocean. Precisely corresponding to these there are on the iambic side the counterpart of long iambics in Greek, and a yet longer line ' : I'll speak for the pursuit of love, and see what recommends it. Upsetting all the good old ways : an evil grasping greedy crew. These are the metrical elements of Latin drama: in de- scribing the employment of these different metres I shall practice of ^^^ separately with Plautus, who as the older poet seems Plautus. nearer to the Greek usage, and Terence whose metrical usage is somewhat different, and approaches nearer to the dramatic practice of Shakespeare. Commencing with what is most nearly choral, I will mention first what may be called the prelude use of lyrics. It is a marked feature of Plautus's verse that he regularly uses the wild and rapidly flexible metres which I comprehend under the name of lyrics for the commencement of a long and important scene ^, the rest of which is to be in ac- celerated rhythm : the change from the one metre to the other harmonises with some distinct change in the general tone of the dialogue. An example has already been noted in the Trinu7n?niis \ the moralising soliloquy of Lysiteles followed by the moral lecture of his father are cast in lyrics, until the son, where he claims to have observed all these principles from his youth up, breaks into the accelerated rhythm in which he gradually leads up to the proposal which starts the main business of the play. The same usage may be traced all through the Captives ^ This play turns upon * lambici septenarii and octonarii {iambic sevens and iambic eights) y or iambic tetrameter catalectic and acatalectic. * I use the term 'scene' for a dramatic division in a general sense : not necessarily according to the numbering of scenes. * For exact references to this and the preceding play see the Metrical Analysis, below pages 442-3. METRICAL VARIATION, 403 an exchange of identities between two captives, a master and Chap. XL a slave, the purpose of which is that the real master may, under the supposition that he is the slave, be set at liberty to negotiate the other's ransom. The second act opens in lyrics, where the captives are receiving expressions of sym- pathy and speaking generally to one another of their secret purpose : with the first solemn appeal for mutual fidelity comes the change to accelerated rhythm, which is maintained during the execution of the intrigue. In the third act, after the master has escaped, the plot is discovered by the intro- duction of Aristophantes, who knows both the captives : while Tyndarus watches him approaching and vainly seeks to evade the necessity of meeting him the scene is lyrical, but the change takes place exactly where Aristophantes advances and addresses him by name. The fourth act brings the Parasite with the news that is to constitute the resolution of the action : the Parasite is overheard indulging in lyric rapture, but tells his news in accelerated rhythm. Then in the fifth act, when the course of events has restored a son to his father, the first gratitude is in lyrics, which change to the other metre with the thought ' let us proceed to business ^' * This prelude u^age is again well illustrated in the Pseudolus (a play which cannot be recommended for indiscriminate reading). The opening act (from line 133 of Fleckeisen's edition) displays a slave- merchant at home, and the hero endeavouring to soften his hard heart ; the merchant resists, and the whole is in lyrics, until the suggestion is made that there is a chance of profit, whereupon (265) Ballio changes his mood— with a corresponding change of metre— for, be says, profit is a thing he never neglects. The play, it may be explained, is one of the large class which exhibit clever slaves outwitting their masters, with the special feature in this case that Pseudolus has been dared by his master to deceive him in the affair under consideration. At the opening of the second act (574) the slave, who had admitted in the previous scene (567) that he had no idea what plan of deception he should pursue, appears transported with delight at a brilliant thought which has struck him. What this thought is we never hear, for accident at the moment throws in his way the very messenger he is scheming to D d 2 404 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XL Its import- ance as a link in dramatic develop- ment. Use of lyrics for agitation, I have dwelt at length on this prelude use of lyrics in Roman Comedy because it seems to be an important link in the development from the choral to the modern variety of drama. In the earlier form a choral ode would have separ- ated the scenes. When this is lost the taste for choral effects tends to throw the commencement of the following scene into lyric metres. After these lyrics have been maintained for — speaking roughly — the usual duration of an ode, the scene changes into a more dramatic rhythm. But the transition from one metre to another is not thrown away : it is made to harmonise with some break, however slight, in the spirit of the scene, thus bequeathing to modern drama its important art of reflecting in metrical changes minute variations of tone and movement \ The other use of lyric metres in Roman Comedy needs only to be stated: they ' constitute an appropriate form in which to clothe agitated emotion of any kind. The Pseiidolus, a play of amatory intrigue, ends with a long lyric scene presenting the intriguer as triumphant and drunk. So the girls who, in the Rude7is, escape from the shipwreck, express lyrically their sensations upon reaching dry land, and in a later scene a burst of lyrics marks the point where they take refuge from their persecutor at the altar of Venus ^ intercept:— the preliminary soliloquy is lyric, the change of plan and its execution are in accelerated rhythm (604-766). Pseudolus's scheme is of course to find some one to personate the messenger. At the opening of the fourth act he is (in lyrics) congratulating himself upon the perfection in villainous arts of the tool he has secured for his purpose (905-51) ; the scene of the actual personation is trochaic (952-997)' And there is an exactly parallel variation of metres in a later scene, between the lyrical soliloquy of the real messenger (1103-36), and the dialogue in accelerated rhythm in which he does the business only to find himself anticipated (i 137- 1245). ^ It is a circumstance favouring this theory of lyric usage that such lyric metres usually begin at the commencement of the second act : they seldom appear in the first act. 2 Fseudolus iiom 1246; Rudens, 185-289, 664-80. METRICAL VARIATION. 405 ^ It is natural again that a sudden rise in the action of a scene should for a time give a lyric turn to the metre. In the long opening scene of the Amphitryo, Sosia is over- heard by Mercury making up a pompous account of his own position and adventures : wherever he comes to a thrilling point in the narrative he breaks into irregular rhythms, sub- siding afterwards into very ordinary metrical tone. So in the last act, the servant-maid tells the events within the house in the same ordinary metre, but rises to lyrics for the miraculous signs attending the birth of Hercules \ Lyrics then are in Roman Comedy the medium for the exceptional : the normal metres are (in Plautus) accelerated rhythm and blank verse. The place of honour is assigned to accelerated rhythm, both in regard to quantity and to the character of the scenes it expresses. Blank verse, on the other hand, marks the position of rest in the action: besides prologues and opening situations it is used for sudden soliloquies, or diversions and scenes interposed ; it is also used for relief scenes, especially where a play of intrigue is relieved by the display of life and social manners. All this is part of the wider law of variety and contrast, which is the root purpose of variations in metre. In the Trinummus two interests enter into the plot : one is the marriage intended to unite the two families of Philto and Charmides, with all the complications arising out of its negotiation, the other is the equivocal position in which circumstances have placed the character of the guardian Callicles, and which is brought out in the play by the agency of his friend Megaronides. The working out of these separate interests is distinguished by variation between accelerated rhythm and blank verse. The proposal of the match to Philto, the dispute between the young men over ' Amphitryo 153-262, is the soliloquy scene of Sosia (in iambic eights), the lyric passages being 1 59-79 and 2 19-47. In the same metre IS Bromia' s soliloquy 1053-75, broken by lyrics 1062-72. Chap. XI. % and for climaxes. Normal metres in Plautus, Inter- change of accelerated and blank verse. Law of va- riety and cotitrast. ««! 4o6 ROMAN COMEDY, METRICAL VARIATION, 407 ^XI. the dowry, the main business of the pretended dowry and meeting between the actual Charmides and his supposed messenger, are all in the trochaic rhythm. On the other hand the scene in which Callicles clears his character to his friend IS in blank verse, and the same metre obtains where hese lay their plan for providing a dowry without revealing the secret entrusted to Callicles, and again where the final explanation takes place between Callicles and Charmides on his return. There is one exception to this principle, which IS Itself significant. The proposal of the marriage, which had been opened to Philto in a trochaic scene, is formally /t:;X.. P^^ '-. '^- brother of the lady in blank vers; Th^ex planation of this brings out another law, which may be called the law of persistence, and modifies the wider law of variety : this expresses the tendency by which, where a scene has, for good reason, changed into a particular rhythm, an attraction to that rhythm obtains for a while as against more definite rhythmic laws. When Philto has parted from his son, his reflection on the scene that has preceded changes normally from accelerated rhythm to blank verse ; the action passes without break from the soliloquy into the incident of the proposal to Lesbonicus, who mee s Philto at the moment he turns to seek him ' accordingly the metre of the soliloquy persists through the scene of the proposal ^ ^ The main intrigue of the Captives, it has already been versTof ^h'' '1 '""''^ " '^^'^"'-^^^^ ^^y^^-- The blank verse of the play is used, in the first place, for an incident nterposed in the course of the intrigue, and constituting a special phase of it. The scheme for exchanging identiL IS carried on by the two prisoners in the presence of their captor, and with his admiring sympathy. At one point this captor feels it incumbent upon him to make his contribudon » For details and references see Metrical Analysis, below page 443. to the intrigue by which he is being deceived, and, by deep Chap. XL irony, he formally transfers the supposed slave to his sup- posed master with free authorisation for sending him out of the country. It is this transaction that is conveyed in blank verse : when the two captives resume the thread of the scheme the scene returns to trochaics. Later, on when, after the exciting contest with Aristophantes, the plot breaks down, just where slaves enter to bind 1 yndarus, blank verse naturally appears, and in this metre of rest after action Tyndarus calmly faces Hegio and justifies his fidelity to his former master. Again, there is an underplot in this play, embodying interest of manners — the caricature of a Parasite. Blank verse is the medium for it so long as it is no more than caricature, but — as in other plays ^ — where the under- plot is drawn into the main action it is attracted into the rhythm of the latter, and the Parasite brings his critical news in lyrics and accelerated verse. In this connexion the law of persistence is again exemplified. The Parasite makes another appearance intermediate between the other two, and, as his purpose is only to grumble about his failure to find any entertainer, it might have been expected that the scene would be in blank verse : as a fact it follows one of the main scenes in the intrigue and is attracted to its accelerated verse ^ 1 A good example is the Stichus, Act II : where the boy Pinacinm in a highly lyric scene comes full of his important news, and tantalises the Parasite ; when the mistress hears him (330) and bids him tell the news, he does so in trochaics. 2 For details and references see Metrical Analysis, below page 442 . In the Pseudohts the movement of the plot is all in scenes of accelerated verse: in this is expressed the remonstrance with the slave merchant which is the occasion for the intrigue (265-393), the particular scheme suggested by accident (604-766), the execution of this scheme (952- 997), and the corresponding scene which constitutes the denouement (1 137-1245). Blank verse is used for the opening situation of the youth's despair (3-132), the soliloquy of the slave when he admits he has no plan (394-414), and (perhaps by persistence) the scene immediately 4o8 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI. Plautus's use of lengthened iambics. Metrical practice of Terence. It remains to point out that the iambic metres other than blank verse are employed by Plautus as an additional element of variety, and especially connected with servants. In these rhythms the boy makes his comments upon the Parasite of the Captives, the servant-girl in Amphitryo relates the story of her mistress's labour, and the slave Sosia of the same play composes his vapouring report of the war. Both these last scenes, it has been already pointed out, are varied with lyric climaxes ; it is also notable that where the scene with Sosia is drawn into the mystification of the main plot by Sosia's stumbling upon Mercury there is a change to accelerated rhythm. Mercury himself in this play appears as the slave of Jupiter : where he condescends to the comic convention of a running slave the scene is in lengthened iambics ^ Terence is less lyrical than Plautus, and his treatment of lyrics rests much less on the employment of rare metres than on the rapid variation between metres in ordinary use. Unlike Plautus, Terence makes blank verse the main medium for his scenes, and with him accelerated rhythm - is (speaking roughly) on a par with the lengthened iambic metres as an element of metrical variety. But the main distinction of Terence is that in his plays the law of variety throws all other usages into the shade ; apart from the obvious selection of lyrics to express occasional agitation '^ following where he faces the youth's father and tells him to his face he will outwit him. Blank verse also occupies the whole of the third act, which is simply a relief picture of manners in Ballio's establishment, caricaturing cooks and other servants. Note how in a trochaic scene the reading of a letter 998), which is naturally in blank verse, produces a change of metre that persists for several smaller scenes. » Captives, 909 ; Amphitryo, 1053, 153, 263, 984. 2 Not only trochaic sevens, but also trochaic eights, which Plautus seems to reserve as a lyric measure (see above, page 383) : compare its use in prelude to Act IV of the Trinwnmiis. ^ E.g. the opening of Phormio, Act V (1-20}, where Sophrona in her trouble is encountered by Chremes. METRICAL VARIATION'. 409 La7u of ^ \ji variety suprefite. ^ Vat Metrical develop- ment from ancient to Elizabeth- an drama. I i i f 1 can see no principle of significance in Terence's use of Chap. XI. ^ any particular metre. He gives us however constant inter- change of rhythms to reflect transitions, often the most delicate transitions of tone and movement. To illustrate this would require the detailed analysis of a whole play \ Meanwhile it may be pointed out that the usages of Plautus and Terence constitute two links in a chain of continuous metrical development from ancient to modern drama. The ancient drama first arose as a literary species by the institu- tion of the Chorus, which showed how lyric poetry could be an instrument of dramatic effect. The influence of the Chorus extended beyond the strictly choral passages, and the interchange of metres it had introduced was found to serve two dramatic purposes : particular significance could be attached to particular metres, and, more widely, metrical variation was made to reflect variations in the action. When in Roman Comedy the Chorus finally disappeared, this trace of choral influence held its ground : both usages descended to Plautus, Terence allowed the less definite principle of variation to predominate. The usage favoured by Terence was the usage destined to survive ; and metrical variation, in the more powerful form of variation between verse and prose, became a distinguishing feature of Eliza- bethan drama I * See Metrical Analysis of the Phormio, below page 444. 2 The Tempest is a good play for studying these variations. Every one feels the passage from the rough prose of the opening storm to the stately verse introducing the enchanted island. A delicate transition is in II. ii. 121, where, amid a scene entirely in prose, Caliban breaks into verse with the effects of alcohol, now first tasted by him : the scene be- comes lyrical as the intoxication reaches its height. The contrast of his set purpose with the sailors' drunken inconstancy is conveyed by verse and prose throughout IV. i. 194-255. Examples from other plays could be multiplied indefinitely. The dramatic turning-point (that is, transi- tion from complication to resolution) is in two plays accompanied with a sudden change of the whole scene from verse to prose {Meas.for Meas. III. i. 152 and Winters Tale, in. iii. 59), 4IO ROMAN COMEDY, 4. General Dramatic Features of Boman Comedy. Chap. XI. A principle accounting for much of what is distinctive in Roman Comedy is that the general tendencies of the transi- tion period are seen to be by this time fully developed. One case is particularly clear : by the tendency to pass from Develop- irregularity to regularity the incidental effects, so prominent ment of the |j^ qj^ ^^|.-^ Comedy, have now unified and developed into underplot. -" the complete underplot. Where the Greek dramatist would have given us continual but isolated digressions into farce, or miscellaneous jokes on human nature, we get in Roman Comedy a similar amount of caricature or farce worked up into a single interest, running through the whole play side by side with the main plot. A favourite subject for such secondary interest is a Parasite — an exaggerated anticipation of the modern diner-out. Such a personage forms a centre to the underplot running through Plautus's play, the Captives. He opens the first scene by lamenting the war from his own point of view : people are so busy that they have no interest left for men of his profession, who are left to feed like snails in dry weather on their own juices. Suddenly catching sight of Hegio he recognises him as the father of a man with whom he has dined ; he accordingly is at once plunged in distress at the rumoured captivity of this son, whom he out-does the father in mourning. The thin veil of a Parasite's grief is quite understood on both sides. Hegio {half aside). 'Tis this afflicts him, that the army Raised to make entertainments is disbanded. You will stand in need Of many soldiers, and of various kinds : — Bakerians, Pastrycookians, Poultererians, Besides whole companies of Fishmongerians. Parasite. How greatest geniuses oft lie concealed ! O, what a general, now a private soldier! THE UNDERPLOT. 411 ' But the father cannot do less than invite the sympathising Chap. XI. Parasite to dinner— that is, if he can be content with little. Parasite. Oh, Sir, very very little : I love it : 'tis my constant fare at home. The joking is carried to the common conventionality of a mock auction, the Parasite knocking himself down to Hegio as the only bidder. None the less he means to get a better invitation if he can find one. In the third act he reappears unsuccessful, and inveighs against the degeneracy of young men who only ask those now who will ask them back again. He suspects a conspiracy, and will have his action, with damages at ten dinners when provisions are dear. Making one more attempt he tries the strangers arriving at the harbour, where he is fortunate enough to get the first sight of Hegio's son newly returned. Full of the tidings, on which he hopes to found an open invitation to the father's table, we have the Parasite in the fourth act delaying the impatient Hegio with a gastronomic rhapsody as to the price he expects for the news he is going to tell. When he has at last told it, the father in his delight bids the Parasite be free of his larder and kitchen : the subsequent scene paints the scale on which this freedom is used. This Parasite is clearly a distinct interest in the play, appealing to the same tastes which Aristophanes would have satisfied with his miscellaneous business. We have seen how in TheRoman Greek drama there was an approach to such a secondary ^^^^^^plot ,• .^^^ , • iU /-.I 1 , . , , drawmnto mterest m the case of the slave who is attached to Bacchus the main during the first part of the Frogs. But whereas this slave ^''^'°'^- disappears when the main business of the play is reached, in Roman Comedy the underplot is both completed and drawn into the main action : the Parasite has his share in the catastrophe of the action, and in the situations of distress and triumph which precede and follow it. Roman Comedy abounds in examples of such union between main 111 r 412 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI. An ap- proach to mixture of tones. Multipli- cation of actions. The Sti- chus illus- trates interests of action and underplots of manners or of relief in some other form. The contrast between these diverse interests, and the contrast of both with the element of moral reflections, constitute the nearest approach made in Latin drama to the mixture of tones. The underplot is only one variety in the wider multiplica- tion of actions, which Roman Comedy presents fully deve- loped. Three different sources suggest themselves for this important process in literary evolution. The growth of the underplot out of incidental effects just mentioned is one. Again, in the passage from Greek to Latin we know that different plays were combined in one plot \ And a third consideration is that the idea of double or multiple actions, once introduced, would be applied more widely than in the circumstances which had originated it. Very few Latin Comedies are content with a single plot. I have already pointed out how in the Trinummus the marriage negotiations form a distinct interest from that centering in the character of Callicles, which the action obscures and again clears ; the two interests are worked out side by side, and the distinction is in this case kept particularly clear by the metrical differences which, as we have seen, reflect it. The Stichus of Plautus illustrates within the limits of a single play four of the recognised modes by which actions are multiplied in drama. The story is particularly scanty. Two brothers have married two sisters, have run through their property and been obliged to take to a life of merchan- dise, and in a mercantile expedition have been absent and unheard of for more than three years. At the beginning of the play the father of the two wives is persuading his daugh- ters to marry again : they however remain faithful to their husbands, and are rewarded by the return of these husbands safe and prosperous. Yet this slight material is made to yield multiplicity of plot. First, we have duplication * See above, page 378. MULTIPLE ACTION. 413 of actions illustrated in the fact that there are two brothers Chap. XI. and two sisters, though there is nothing in the story neces- ~7~ sarily involving more than one wedded pair ; such duplica- Hon'''' tion can be utilised for contrast of character, one sister being seen to waver in resolution not to marry while the other keeps her firm \ Again, we have the case of a indepetid- mechanical personage elevated into an independent interest. ^''^ actions The father, whose function in the main action is no moxJofmedmL than to advise the remarrying which circumstances suggest '^'^^^A^- to his daughters, is painted as a comfortable and facetious ''^*'^^"' old gentleman, who has a design of his own throughout the play, namely, to get a wife for his old age. When his sons- in-law return as rich men, he takes advantage of the situa- tion to fish for the offer of a slave-girl well endowed, and conveys his purpose in a transparent story of what some young men did for an old friend of his ; the sons-in-law however dexterously miss the point of the story, and are heartily indignant with the hypothetical old man, instead of being stirred to emulation by the example of the others 2. A third source for multiplicity of action— difference of tone actions — is illustrated in the Stichus, as in the Captives, by the ^^^'^^^P^i^'^ part of the Parasite, which clearly amounts to a separate ends of interest as he fastens upon one after another of the person- ^°*^' ages in the play, and suffers rebuffs on every side. Once the depettd- more, we have illustrated that class of underplot to which ''f "'''*'''''■ ,1 . , ,. ^ plot. the name most strictly applies, and which has been ingeni- ously described as going on in the kitchen while the main plot goes on in the parlour. The slave Stichus, who gives the name to the play, has been presented with a cask of wine by his master, one of the brothers, and celebrates with his sweetheart and fellow-servants the happy return. To this the fifth act is given up : they feast and dance outside the house in vulgar emulation of the rejoicings within, and ^ * Stichus, 1-57. ' Stichus, 538-78. \ 414 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap. XL Plot form in Roman Comedy rests on complica- tion and resolution: limited by the strictest scenic unity. make much of the situation in which two slaves have the same sweetheart : With me ! why, she's with you : With you ! with me — one envies not the other. The play ends as they have just danced the wine out. In all these ways various interests multiply and combine in a common action, growing steadily into the complete Shake- spearean conception of plot — the weaving of distinct stories into a common dramatic pattern. In the form of its dramatic plots Roman Comedy occupies a curious middle position between ancient and modern. On the one hand the Old Attic conception of plot — the sustained development of an extravagance — has completely passed away : Roman Comedy, in as high a degree as any modern form of drama, is dominated by probabiHty, and it falls into the modern form of complication and resolution. But another peculiarity of dramatic treatment in Greek literature was more firmly rooted. It is remarkable that the strict unities of time and place which were such a limitation to the ancient stage descended intact from Greek to Latin. Considering the large degree to which the Chorus was responsible for these conventionalities it might have been expected that they would not have long survived its loss. The reverse is the fact : whereas Greek drama, both serious and comic, has occasional departures from scenic unity, Roman Comedy is absolute in its fixity ; it even goes beyond the practice of the Greek stage, and in the Latin comedies not only are there no changes of scene in the course of a play, but further, what is practically the same scene — an exterior to a few houses — is made to serve for all plays ahke ^. The effect of this on plot form is very important. ^ So the scene of the Rudens is a road in front of Daemones' house, beside which is the Temple of Venus : from some part of it the sea, with cliffs and shore, is visible. The action of Terence's Self-Tormentor extends over two days, but involves no change of scene. I PLOT FORM, 415 Where the unities of time and place are strictly maintained Chap. XI. it is clear that only the crisis of a story can be represented in action on the stage ; hence the universal form of drama- tic action for Roman Comedy is this :— An Opening Situa- Plotfor- tion of Complication is developed to a Resolution. But '^"^^'^M , 1 , , / Ro/nan agam, regard must be had to the multiplication of actions Comedy. just described : all these separate interests with their inter- working must be presented within the same narrow limits of time and place. It is obvious that the plots of Roman Comedy will be highly intricate ; and the formula for them may be enlarged to this :— An Opening Situation of Com- plication between various conflicting interests is developed to a Resolution in which they are harmonised ^ The Phormio of Terence may be described as a beautiful network of intrigues involving four persons, whom I will here call the father, the son, the uncle and the nephew : there are also, as motive personages, the usual contriving slave and a Parasite. Into the action of this play three distinct intrigues enter. The son has fallen in love, during the absence from Athens of his father and uncle, with an orphan stranger girl he has seen, and has further, by the contrivance of the slave and the Parasite, allowed himself to be forced into marrying her by a mock suit brought under the law concerning the next-of-kin. The nephew is in the common predicament of Athenian youth— smitten with the charms of a slave-girl, whom he is seeking to buy out of captivity, if by any resource he can raise the funds. The old men too have their guilty secret : the uncle has contracted a bigamous marriage in Lemnos, known to his brother, but which must at all hazards be kept from his rich Athenian wife. The play opens after a lengthened absence of the father and uncle from home. At this point 1 According to the scheme suggested above (page 140, note i) the general formula for Roman plot would be CR : or, to bring out the multiplication of actions, p^=R. 4i6 ROMAN COMEDY, ^m PLOT FORM. 417 Chap. XI. all three intrigues have been brought into conflict with one another. The marriage of the son has disconcerted a scheme which the old men had always kept in mind as a means for hushing up the Lemnian marriage, namely, that this son should marry the daughter of that household, a provision being thus made for the girl without risk of inconvenient questions being asked. Two of the three intrigues have thus run directly counter to one another, and whatever tends to produce family difficulties also reduces the chance of the nephew's being able to wheedle out of those about him the money he so pressingly needs. A few scenes are devoted to elaborating this opening situation — the youths' dread of their parents' return, and the father's indignation when he hears of his son's match ; then the action settles •down to a scheme for annulling the marriage. This scheme is made to increase the mutual entanglement of the different intrigues ; for the old men have recourse to the contriving slave who is really in the interest of the youths, and he makes out a necessary step to be the payment of moneys, which he intends secretly to hand over to the nephew for the purposes of his amour. Suddenly an accident reveals to the uncle that the bride in the recent marriage is no other than his own Lemnian daughter, brought without his knowledge to Athens, and that he is thus on the point of upsetting an alliance which it has been his object for years to effect. The old men hasten to arrest all proceedings, but not before the money has been secured for the nephew, and the slave, possessed of the secret, has brought about a disclosure to the uncle's wife. Thus the son has secured his marriage, the nephew is furnished with funds for redeeming his sweet- heart, the concealment which constituted the third intrigue is at an end, and the old men are in a moral position that forbids their resenting severely anything that has been done : all the different trains of interest, after passing through so much complication, are at once resolved and harmonised. The action of this play, it will be observed, commences Chap. XI. at so late a point in the story that in the opening complica- 7 — tion the resolution is already latent: the marriage which 'is feature of to harmonise the w^hole entanglement has taken place before Roman the play begins, and is mistaken at the outset for the chiti lotion 7a- item in the conflict of interests. This beautiful piece of tentincom- plot handling is characteristically Roman, and the action ^'^^ ^'"'* of several comedies in this species may be stated in this form : An apparent Final Complication of an Opening Situation is shown in development to be a Resolution \ The situations to which such complication is applied are Situations. various in kind. There are situations of Intrigue, suffi- intrigue. ciently illustrated by the Fhormio. Of high dramatic inter- est are the situations of Irony, that rest on the spontaneous, irony. unlooked for, unconscious clashings in the course of events.^ The Captives of Plautus is one of the most exquisite studies of Dramatic Irony in all literature. There is war between Elis and Aetolia, and prisoners are being taken on both sides to be sold as slaves. Hegio of Aetolia has lost his son Philopolemus, supposed to have been taken captive in the war ; accordingly the wealthy father buys all the distin- guished prisoners he can lay his hands on, in the hope of sometime negotiating an exchange for his son. When the play opens he has just purchased in this way two persons, Philocrates, supposed to be a man of some distinc- tion in Elis, and his slave Tyndarus captured with him. Hegio does not know, what the speaker of the prologue gives as information to the audience, that this Tyndarus is another son of Hegio, stolen away in infancy and sold as a slave in Elis. Thus the opening situation contains the irony of a son becoming slave to his own father, neither of the two having any suspicion of the fact : verily, adds ^ Other examples will be found in the plots of the Rudens, Menaechmei^ Captives. The formula (above, page 415, note 2) will in these cases become -^ =R. E e 4i8 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap^XL the prologue, the gods use us as their footballs. As the action proceeds the irony deepens. The two captives have a little plot of their own : they have agreed ever since being taken prisoners to exchange names and costumes, Philo- crates pretending to be Tyndarus and the slave, and Tyn- darus assuming the part of Philocrates the master ; for of course Hegio will send away the slave to arrange the terms of exchange, keeping the master as a valuable hostage, and so by their exchange of identities the real master will get free, while the faithful slave will gladly suffer in his place. The plot is skilfully carried out in the presence of the unconscious Hegio, who zealously bears his part in the intrigue by which he is being deceived. A climax of irony is reached where, all substantial matters having been ar- ranged, Tyndarus in his role as master gives his supposed slave a parting message for his father, and, carrying the • plot a step further than had been concerted with Philo- crates, makes a stroke for himself. Say, I'm well ; And tell him, boldly tell him, that our souls Were linked in perfect harmony together; That nothing you have ever done amiss, Nor have I ever been your enemy ; That in our sore affliction you maintained Your duty to your master : nor once swerved From your fidelity, in no one deed Deserted me in time of my distress. When that my father is informed of this, And learns, how well your heart has been inclined Both to his son and to himself, he'll never Prove such a niggard, but in gratitude He will reward you with your liberty; And I, if I return, with all my power Will urge him the more readily to do it. To the listening Hegio there seems nothing in this beyond the kindness of a considerate master : Philocrates quite understands the covert hint, and replies in the same vein— the ' you ' and * I ' must be understood as reversed— 419 Chap.XI. PLOT FORM. True, I have acted as you say: and much It pleases me, you bear it in remembrance. What I have done was due to your desert : For were I in my count to tell the sum Of all your friendly offices towards me, Night would bear off the day, ere I had done. You were obliging, as obsequious to me. As though you were my servant. At this point the situation has reached a triple irony. The prisoners have developed their plot at the expense of their unconscious captor, who rejoices to assist it. In the last detail Tyndarus has given an unexpected turn of irony to the scene, at the expense of Philocrates, who enters into the humour of it and carries it on. But beneath the whole there is a deeper irony, perceived only by the audience, who see the father and his lost son unconsciously facing one another, the son plotting against his father, the father about, when the plot shall be discovered, to visit his son with hard labour and torture. Briefly to review other situations of Roman Comedy : we Character have complication taking the form of Contrast in the Brothers ^^f'^^ of Terence. One of these brothers has brought up his son TersJ' with great strictness in the country, the other has adopted a younger nephew to give him a town life of easy morality, in- dulging his follies in the hope of winning his affection. The scenes present the two parents each believing absolutely m his own system ; an amusing resolution is found in the sudden reversal of characters when the country father, en- lightened by the discovery that his own charge is responsible for certain excesses attributed to the other youth, turns round and entirely outshines his popular brother by the prodigality with which he deals indulgence on all sides. A favourite Error and situation in the Latin plays is that which is technically called ^.''^^""i' * Error,' that is, mistaken identity; the Menaechmeiis a good ^'''"' example, interesting as the foundation for Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors, in which the plot is duplicated, and to the E e 2 420 ROMAN COMEDY. Chap. XI Conceal- ment and Discovery. two twin brothers two twin slaves are added to increase the mystification. To the same heading, perhaps, may be re- ferred plays which turn upon personation, like the Pseudo- lus of Plautus ; also another situation, not very edifying, but popular on the Roman stage, in which injury has been done to an unknown person under cover of darkness, and recognition is at last brought about by means of a ring or some similar device \ Mystification of a similar nature is the interest attaching to situations of Concealment, for which the natural resolution is Discovery. The Mostellaria of Plautus is a highly amusing play, in which the master of a house is kept from entering his own dwelling, where some riotous proceedings are being carried on, by a terrible story that the house is haunted ; the slave responsible for this story is driven in the course of the action from invention to invention, till the whole breaks down in a comic catastrophe. Finally, as an example of simplicity in plot, complication in the Stichus amounts to no more than Separation of persons, whose Reunion is the resolution. These illustrations give only a partial idea of the intricacy and elaborateness with which plot is handled by Plautus and Terence : to do justice to the subject a separate work would be required. Enough has been said to suggest that the in- trinsic interest of the Latin comedies makes them well suited to the position which actual historical circumstances have assigned to them— that of being the models for plot to the lighter plays of the modern drama. 6. Motives in Roman Comedy. 2/m"f ^ ^' '^"'^'"' •'"^"y '° ""^^'^^ the matter of which Roman ing satiric Comedy was composed, and the purpose to which it was tnrpost. apphed. We have seen how the purpose of Greek Comedy Separation and Re- union. Roman Comedy a model for modern plot. An example is the Hecyra of Terence. DRAMATIC MOTIVES. 421 was satire, and its application was at first to high questions Chap. XI. of politics : gradually the matter became more general, and the satire grew nearer to humour, while the dramatic handling from being a means to an end was rapidly becoming an end in itself. These tendencies of the transition are found to have reached in Roman Comedy a high degree of complete- ness : dramatic has now so far superseded satiric purpose that the latter gravitates in the form of caricature to the underplot. I have sufficiently illustrated in previous sections the farcical relief of the Latin plays, and how their main action is a probable story made interesting by the working of events, while interest of character and moral reflection have obtained an equal importance with plot. In the life painted by Roman Comedy an obvious feature Love as a is the very great prominence of love as a leading motive : ^^'^ding mo- fourteen out of Plautus's twenty plays turn upon amours and their intrigues. The love is either that of loose life, which is by some plays displayed in all its nakedness, or it is dependent upon a state of slavery, and turns upon some free girl sold into slavery and redeemed by her lover \ Thus love scenes in the modern sense are not to be expected j the heroines play a very secondary part, and several plays, hke the Trinummus, are occupied with marriage negotiations in which the bride never appears. The institution of slavery, with the attendant practice of kidnapping, is responsible for another interest almost universal in the Latin plays— a child stolen in infancy and by the action of the drama restored to its parents. ^ The accepted translations seem to me to give an unnecessary air of looseness to some plays by using terms of modem immorality, like * procurer.' It is obvious that the institution of slavery, involving concubinage as distinct from marriage, makes a great difference at all events to the grossness of such life ; and if the term * slave-merchant ' be substituted for * procurer,' &c., a great deal of Plautus may be read by modern readers without offence. Of course this does not apply to such plays as the Bacchides, which are immoral in the modern sense. 422 ROMAN COMEDY, Chap^XI. In the relief scenes class types are prominent :— an in- Relief heritance, it will be recollected, from the very earliest forms matter and of Comedy. The cook of the Megarian Farce, and the Class types, parasite of Epicharmus, still hold the stage. A whole set of these class types are furnished by the institution of kid- napping—the lover, the stolen heroine, the schemer who procures her deliverance, and the hated slave-merchant :— An old bald-pated fellow, Hook-nosed, pot-bellied, beetle- brovv'd, sqtiint-eye'd, A sour-faced knave, the scorn of gods and men. These are all well illustrated in the Rude7is, in which, by the agency of Arcturus and a shipwreck, the various personages involved in such a story are brought together at the door^'of the father's house, to whom in the end the daughter is to be restored. Other types are the sharper of the Trhwmmus, the military- swaggerer, and the jolly bachelor who assists his young friends in their intrigues. The miser in terrified guard over his pot of money belongs to the comedy of all ages. But the actors, and sometimes the composers, of Latin come- dies were slaves, and types of slave life appear in all varieties. The ' cheeky ' slave has been illustrated in the Trinunwms ; the Captives gives example of extremes in the faithful Tyn- darus, and the hardened villain who originally stole him in his childhood, and is in the end brought back to meet his fate with brazen impudence. Scheming slaves are in universal request as motive personages for the plays. In the Stichus we have seen a whole company exhibiting the merry side of a captive's life. And the opposite extreme of moroseness IS of common occurrence— well illustrated in Sceparnio, the churl of the Rudetis, who snaps at allcomers, and makes his churlishness an instrument of flirtation where he refuses Ampelisca her modest request for water except at the price of a kiss. Sceparnio. i am proud and lordly: Unless you sue to me with low petition, 423 Chap. XI. DRAMATIC MOTIVES, You will not get a drop. Our well we dug, At our own hazard, with our proper tools. Unless you woo me with much blandishment, You will not get a drop. Ampelisca. Why should you grudge To give me water, which an enemy Will give an enemy ? Sceparnio. why should you grudge To grant me that same favour, which a friend Will give a friend? These few observations seem sufficient to sum up the Summary. scanty material out of which the Latin comedies were con- structed. The famous line of Terence might well serve as motto for the whole literary species to which Terence be- longs — I'm human : all human nature is my business. Roman Comedy seeks no deeper inspiration than the simple interest that belongs to human nature as seen in the or- dinary play of daily life ; and for background to its picture it gives us caricature of manners and social oddities as they existed in dissolute and slave-ridden Greece and Rome. \ XIL The Ancient Classic and the Modern Romantic Drama. i i! 1 1 XII. The drama of antiquity has now been traced through the Chap XII whole course of its development : it remains to state some- what more formally-what has been a guiding consideration ^,t in all parts of our review— the relation in which this Ancient ^^^'''^ ^' Classical Drama stands to its rival in literary prominence, S.:::^.! tne Modern Romantic Drama, represented to us mainly •^^'^^y- by Shakespeare. Put briefly, the Romantic Drama is the marriage of Drama and Story ; it is produced by the amalga- mation on the popular stage of the Ancient Classical Drama with the stories of Medieval Romance. The whole drama of Greece and Rome constitutes a TAe An- single piece of development. Greek Tragedy was created "^'f/^^-^" by the fusion of a lyric chorus with dramatic action; from '^ledTa the fixity stamped upon it by this connexion with the '^^°^'' chorus Tragedy began to move slowly in the direction of modern complexity and realism ; then its progress came to a sudden end with Euripides, after whom— so far as acted drama was concerned— development was superseded by miitation. The form, however, of Tragedy had been, owing to exceptional circumstances, taken over by Comedy, and in this sphere of incongruous matter tragic form was subjected to a continuous development, which extended through the whole of Greek literature, and passed on from Greek Comedy to the Roman adaptation of it. In this final Roman form ancient drama had proceeded so far in its course of evolution that it had reached the leading charac- teristics of modern dramatic form : the two fundamental J:^ 428 ANCIENT CLASSIC AND Chap. XII. varieties of plot, action-drama and passion-drama, were ' already distinguished, and the combination of many actions in one had been carried to a high degree of complexity. On the other hand, strange limitations were maintained to the end of the Classical drama. Its matter was limited, in Tragedy to the heroic myths into which human interest could with difficulty penetrate, in Comedy to a slight and superficial range of common life. The separation of Tragedy and Comedy into distinct rituals gave but slight scope in each for the mixture of tones. More important still, the rigid adherence of the ancient stage to scenic unity, while constituting no doubt a special interest in itself, hampered all other dramatic effects by admitting only the final crisis of a story into the acted exhibition. The Dark Between the Roman and the Romantic Drama lies the ^€^'^"^?'^ whole tract of the *Dark Ages.' For our present purpose supersedes ° x r r Drama in the main literary phenomenon of this period is that drama ^flt^!^^ "^ ceases to be, what it had been previously and was destined to be again, the popular literature, that is, the literature of the non-reading classes : its place is for a time taken by an allied form of art-story. The Latin plays passed to the literary section of society in the monasteries ; meanwhile a wandering class of men — under such names as jugglers, minstrels, bards, scalds, troubadours, trouv^res — spread them- selves through the nations, and catered for the popular taste as purveyors of fiction in prose or verse. There were tales of all kinds, and taken from the stores of all peoples: tales founded on Scripture, on the lives of saints, or the doings of giants, or the ordinary ways of human nature, besides those in which the attraction lay in the naughtiness, or the * histories ' that were simply true stories. So thoroughly had story superseded drama that the terms * tragedy ' and ' comedy ' lost their dramatic significance : * tragedies ' be- came the regular name for such tales of fallen greatness as those making up the Mirror for Magistrates^ and the terest. i MODERN ROMANTIC DRAMA. 429 original application of the word could be so far obscured Chap. XII. that an epic which is perhaps the most serious poem ever written was styled by its author the * Divine Comedy.' As the centuries went on, such fiction became recognised as the dominant literary interest of Europe ; from the fact of its being expressed in a variety of kindred languages produced by corruption from the language of Rome, this mass of European stories came to be summed up under the name * Romance.' Drama and Story had prevailed separately : an agency Popular for bringing the two together was found in the Popular j)^^^^^ Drama that arose towards the close of the Dark Ages. Its acted Story. immediate origin was in the ceremonies of religious worship •. these, in mediaeval Europe as in Greece, were dramatic in their general spirit, and further, the circumstance that the ritual was carried on in Latin naturally led to its being supplemented on particular occasions with sacred scenes or lessons acted to the ignorant ^ Thus the raison d'etre of the Mysteries and Miracle Plays was to act stories from Scripture or the lives of Saints, or embodying central doctrines such as the incarnation, for the benefit of a populace unable to read for themselves. Like everything healthy and free this Popular Drama underwent development. It soon broke away from its liturgical or homiletic purpose, and the acting became an end in itself. Single scenes grew into the Collective Miracle Play covering all time ; from simple reproduction of events a step in the direction of plot was taken by the allegorical scenes or plays styled Moralities. And further, the fundamental purpose of bringing home sacred matter to an ignorant populace produced such advances in realism and secularisation as led the Old English * More remotely this sacred drama was inspired by the Roman plays themselves, which had never been lost, but were read by the learned in the monasteries. 430 ANCIENT CLASSIC AND Chap.XII The He- tiais sauce: rise of Ro- mantic out of Popular Drama, bytheappH cation of Classical form to Ro mance mat ter. . Moralities and Interludes to the very verge of the modern Drama. Then came the Renaissance : the new birth of intellectual activity brought about when the whole wealth of an ancient literature was suddenly recovered. This ancient literature became the school in which the mind of young Europe trained itself, and the education was through the eye extended to the common people, for whom all public pageants took a classical form. The popular drama felt the general movement. Already the old interest of medieval story had been made a new interest by realisation on the stage : when the works of the ancient stage were added as a third influence, Old English rose into Elizabethan Drama, . and this to Shakespeare. The three influences continued to work together in moulding the new Drama. The popular character of the audience was a constant factor : the dramatic exhibitions typical of the Elizabethan age rose by gradual steps from the level of the bear-baitings which shared the same inn-yard, to the intellectual amusement of the theatre ; they were adapted throughout to the tastes of a populace trained in the moralities and interludes, and caring nothing for the literary traditions which some were calling laws. The Ancient Classical Drama was represented in the dramatists themselves. If we look at the fathers of our stage and the great Elizabethan playwrights, we find nearly all of them public school or university men: Udall was master of Eton, Bale was a bishop and Fletcher a bishop's son; Edwards, Lodge, Peele, Lyly, Marston, Massinger, Shirley, were Oxford men ; Greene, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Heywood were Cambridge men ; Sackville and Chapman studied at both Oxford and Cambridge, and the latter was the translator of Homer. For these, and equally for those whose names are not in the list, Greek and Latin literature was the sole standard to which criticism could appeal. Thus popular taste and literary tradition met MODERN ROMANTIC DRAMA, 431 in the Elizabethan plays : for a third influence the stories of Romance were the sources from which these Elizabethan plays were taken. As a matter of fact all Shakespeare's plots have been, with more or less of probability, already traced to their sources ; the idea of inventing matter for the stage had not yet come into vogue, and indeed the main attraction to the audience lay in seeing a favourite story acted. It was inevitable that the romances from which the matter of a play was taken should exercise distinct influence in moulding the action : how considerable that influence was is suggested by the fact that it is this element which has contributed to the new literary product its name of ' Roman- tic Drama.' This amalgamation of ancient Drama with mediaeval Romance was the happiest of unions. Romance broke down the absolute scenic unity which had so restricted the scope of the ancient Drama while developing its form ; where the story was an interest on a par with the dramatic action- it would be acted as a whole, not left to be inferred from its final phase. This fulness of matter carried with it free change of scene, free handling of time, and unrestricted intermingling of what was serious and light j — in short, a general elasticity of treatment by which an action would be presented from every side, and the spectator taken into the confidence of all parties in turn. On the other hand, from the ancient plays modern drama gained the strict dramatic form, which had been elaborated in a field v/here the accidents of convention had limited matter, and form had been the only thing left to develop. Modern Drama has added nothing new in form, it has only diversified classic form with its own wider diversity of matter ; the Elizabethan stage starts with the multiplication of actions with which Roman Comedy ended, and its conception of unity becomes a harmony of stories proceed- ing side by side, bound together by parallelism, by contrast, Chap.XII. Value to the Roman- tic drama of the Ro- mance ele- 7?ient : the Classic element : 432 ANCIENT CLASSIC AND Chap. XII, and the popular element. Interests descending from Classic to Romantic Drama. The Cho- rus. Epic and Rhetoric. by interlacing, or in a variety of ways enhancing one another's effect. The Romantic Drama was a union of complementary elements ; and the popular stage, on which the union was effected, itself served as a constant force for realism, balancing the special idealism of the Classical Drama with an equality that increased the effectiveness of each. The Romantic Drama is thus the descendant of the Ancient Classical Drama, with a strong infusion of new blood derived from its other parent. It is further the heir of all that on the ancient stage was other than accidental. The Chorus was originally, so to speak, a scaffold for building up dramatic unity, restricting matter until the sense of form was strong enough to stand by itself. But it was a great deal more than this. There is the intrinsic value of the lyric poetry which it added to Tragedy : this, upon the loss of the Chorus, was, we have seen, dissipated over the details of a modern dramatic poem, furnishing the variety of thought and pregnancy of expression which make up the ' tragical flights ' of Shakespeare, so censured by a more prosaic school of critics. The Chorus again gave to the ancient dramas the metrical flexibility, reflecting variation in tone and movement, which Elizabethan dramatists secured by the interchange of prose and verse. In part the ancient Chorus is represented by the confidant of the modern stage, and by collective actors, such as crowds ; in part this lyric element has passed into the setting of the modern play — the music which fills up intervals or accompanies the more emotional scenes. And whereas one tendency of Ancient Tragedy was for the lyric to absorb the dramatic element, this has in modern art been realised by a bifurcation, and separation of the play from the lyric opera. Again, Classical Drama was enriched by an epic and a rhetorical element. Epic influence is felt by modern drama, not in messengers' speeches, but in the story form of its action ; while the rhetorical style of the MODERN ROMANTIC DRAMA, 433 I Greek and Roman poets has not only descended to the Chap. XII. Elizabethan drama, but further been reinforced by the modern rhetoric of euphuism, which with its parallelisms and antitheses expands the set speeches of Shakespeare and gives brightness to his wit. Interests of matter have Motives. descended from ancient to modern with or without a differ- ence. The idea of destiny has passed into the idea of providence ; for irony of fate Shakespeare substitutes irony in circumstances \ the oracular interest he secures with the aid of witchcraft and other superstition. Interest of horror still inspires our tragedy, and for the Greek interest of splendour perhaps a counterpart may be found in the splendid imagination of the fairy dramas. The idealisa- tion of life which was so prominent a motive of Greek Tragedy, and the simple human interest which was the final interest of classical Comedy, are equally important to the dramatist in whose words the purpose of the stage is described as the holding up the mirror to nature. Even the Minor lesser characteristics of Greek and Roi. irama have in^^"^^"^' many cases survived. The special contribution of Aris- tocratic Comedy in Greece — the painting of manners, or caricature — is extensively used by Elizabethan dramatists for their underplots ; the extravagance characterising the rival species in antiquity has now a representative in the Shake- spearean Fool, who mingles his abandon with the probable matter of the plot ; and the special function of the parabasis to serve as the author's preface is taken over by the modern prologue and epilogue. The Romantic Drama reproduces the whole of the Classical Drama except its limitations. The elaboration of this Romantic Drama out of its two struggle of constituent elements was naturally a gradual process, and *ll'/J^^2m' was effected not without conflict. Many forms of drama against were competing for public favour, and the full strength of ^^f^-'l^^^^^ criticism was thrown on the side of those who wished to Ff 432 ANCIENT CLASSIC AND Chap. XII. and the popular element. Interests descending from Classic to Romantic Drama. The Cho- rus. Epic and Rhetoric. by interlacing, or in a variety of ways enhancing one another's effect. The Romantic Drama was a union of complementary elements ; and the popular stage, on which the union was effected, itself served as a constant force for realism, balancing the special idealism of the Classical Drama with an equality that increased the effectiveness of each. The Romantic Drama is thus the descendant of the Ancient Classical Drama, with a strong infusion of new blood derived from its other parent. It is further the heir of all that on the ancient stage was other than accidental. The Chorus was originally, so to speak, a scaffold for building up dramatic unity, restricting matter until the sense of form was strong enough to stand by itself But it was a great deal more than this. There is the intrinsic value of the lyric poetry which it added to Tragedy : this, upon the loss of the Chorus, was, we have seen, dissipated over the details of a modern dramatic poem, furnishing the variety of thought and pregnancy of expression which make up the ' tragical flights ' of Shakespeare, so censured by a more prosaic school of critics. The Chorus again gave to the ancient dramas the metrical flexibility, reflecting variation in tone and movement, which Elizabethan dramatists secured by the interchange of prose and verse. In part the ancient Chorus is represented by the confidant of the modern stage, and by collective actors, such as crowds ; in part this lyric element has passed into the setting of the modern play— the music which fills up intervals or accompanies the more emotional scenes. And whereas one tendency of Ancient Tragedy was for the lyric to absorb the dramatic element, this has in modern art been realised by a bifurcation, and separation of the play from the lyric opera. Again, Classical Drama was enriched by an epic and a rhetorical element. Epic influence is felt by modern drama, not in messengers' speeches, but in the story form of its action ; while the rhetorical style of the MODERN ROMANTIC DRAMA. 433 !'■ Greek and Roman poets has not only descended to the Chap. XII. Elizabethan drama, but further been reinforced by the modern rhetoric of euphuism, which with its parallelisms and antitheses expands the set speeches of Shakespeare and gives brightness to his wit. Interests of matter have Motives. descended from ancient to modern with or without a differ- ence. The idea of destiny has passed into the idea of providence ; for irony of fate Shakespeare substitutes irony in circumstances ; the oracular interest he secures with the aid of witchcraft and other superstition. Interest of horror still inspires our tragedy, and for the Greek interest of splendour perhaps a counterpart may be found in the splendid imagination of the fairy dramas. The idealisa- tion of life which was so prominent a motive of Greek Tragedy, and the simple human interest which was the final interest of classical Comedy, are equally important to the dramatist in whose words the purpose of the stage is described as the holding up the mirror to nature. Even the Minor lesser characteristics of Greek and Roman drama have in^^"^^"^- many cases survived. The special contribution of Aris- tocratic Comedy in Greece — the painting of manners, or caricature — is extensively used by Elizabethan dramatists for their underplots ; the extravagance characterising the rival species in antiquity has now a representative in the Shake- spearean Fool, who mingles his abandon with the probable matter of the plot ; and the special function of the parabasis to serve as the author's preface is taken over by the modern prologue and epilogue. The Romantic Drama reproduces the whole of the Classical Drama except its limitations. The elaboration of this Romantic Drama out of its two struggle of constituent elements was naturally a gradual process, and ^^^^^'^'^7' was effected not without* conflict. Many forms of drama against were competing for public favour, and the full strength of ^^^JJ^.^,^^^ criticism was thrown on the side of those who wished to Ff 434 ANCIENT CLASSIC AND CHAP XII revive the ancient stage with all its limitations. Sidney in ^""i:^"- his Apoiogiefor Poetrie denounces the new departure. He says of Gorboduc : It is faulty both in place and time, the two necessary companions of all co.po-1 actions' For where the stage should alway represent but one place ; and the uttermost time presupposed m .t should be. both by Aristotle's precept, and common reason, but one day ; there is both many days and many places inartific.ally ■■"-g'ned . - . • Bunhey will say, How then shall we set forth a story wh.ch contams bo^ many place's and many times ? And do they not know that a tragedy is tied to the laws of poesy and not of history 1 This-with his further objection to the rising drama as a 'mongrel tragi-comedy, neither right tragedy nor right comedy '—is a simple and clear statement of the points at issue, coming from a mind which could not conceive any ■ untying ' of poetic laws. An equally clear summary of the conflict is given in a casual reference thrown out by the artist who was by his practice, in serene indiff-erence to theory, upsetting for ever the laws of Aristotle and Sidney. Shakespeare's Hamlet introduces the best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy history pastoral pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral. tragical-h.stoncal, [^^cal-comical-historical.pastoral, scene individable or poem un- mUed : Seneca cannot be too heavy for them, nor Plantus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. , In the struggle between the law of writ and the liberty the liberty gained the day, and when Ben Jonson is reached classical learning itself is won to the Romantic Drama. In the prologue to his second play he puts the plea for restric- tion into the mouth of the ^rnild' critic, and gives the answer to the ' man of a discreet understanding and judg- ment' , . .., Mitis. Does he observe all the laws of Comedy in it? Cordatus. What laws mean you? j . «n^ Mitis, Why, the equal division of it into acts and scenes and according to the Terentian manner; his true nnmber of actors ; MODERN ROMANTIC DRAMA. 435 the furnishing of the scene with grex or Chorus, and that the Chap.XII. whole argument fall within the compass of a day's business. Cordatus. O no, these are too nice observations. Mitis. They are such as must be received, by your favour, or it cannot be authentic. Cordatus. Troth, I can discern no such necessity. Mitis. No? Cordatus. No, I assure you, Signior. If those laws you speak of had been delivered to us ab initio ^ and in their present virtue and perfection, there had been some reason of obeying their powers ; but 'tis extant, that that which we call Comcsdia was at first nothing but a simple and continued song, sung by one only person, till Snsario invented a second ; after him Epicharmus a third ; Phormus and Chionides devised to have four actors, with a prologue and chorus ; to which Cratinus, long afterwards, added a fifth and sixth : Eupolis more ; Aristophanes more than they ; every man in the dignity of his spirit and judgment supplied some- thmg. And, though that in him this kind of poem appeared absolute, and fully perfected, yet how is the face of it changed since, in Menander, Philemon, Cecilius, Plautus, and the rest ! who have utterly excluded the chorus, altered the property of the persons, their names and natures, and augmented it with all liberty, according to the elegancy and liberality of those times wherein they wrote. I see not then but we should enjoy the same license, or free power to illustrate and heighten our invention, as they did ; and not be tied to those strict and regular forms which the niceness of a few, who are nothing but form, would thrust upon us. I cannot conclude the present work better than with this quotation, in which Ben Jonson uses literary evolution as a plea against judicial criticism : — a plea made in the early days of that Romantic Drama which was destined to become the great achievement of popular taste in conflict with critical principles, and the great vindication of liberty in art as a path to higher law. F,f 2 / APPENDIX, f 438 STRUCTURE OF PARTICULAR PLAYS -M- THE ORESTES OF EURIPIDES [Dramatic Structure] -«i4- Formal Prologue.— Soliloquy of Electra, introducing the general situ- ation. [Less formal, or more nearly dramatic than most.] Dramatic Prologue.— Dialogue between Electra and Helen. [First step in the action : getting Hermione separated from her mother. Concerto for Parode.—Soft etttry 0/ the Chorus as a visit to tfte sick Orestes. Episode I.— Waking of Orestes and scene at the sick bedside. Choral Ode I. — Pacification of the Furies who have troubled Orestes. Episode II.— Appeal to Menelaus — including Forensic Contest between Tyndarus and Menelaus— quickening to a climax of Accelerated Rhythm with the entrance of Pylades and news of the plot. Choral Ode II. — Ruin of the House of Atreus. Episode HI.— The Messenger's Speech: Account of the Assembly and condemnation of Orestes. Monody for Choral Ode— Electra: Ruin of the House. Episode IV.— Blank Verse . Brother and sister preparing to die together : Pylades as friend insisting on dying with them.— Parallel Verse. Their councils of despair.— Blank Verse and Parallel Verse mixed. Plot to slay Helen and seize Hermione. Concerto for Choral Ode.— Electra and the Chorus watching for Her- mione, while tJie attempt on the life of Helen is being made behind the scene. Episode V. — Capture of Hermione. Strophe as Interlude : singing to divert attention. Episode VL— Lyric Messenger's Speech : the Phrygian's account of the attempted murder and miraculous rescue — climax of Accelerated Rhythm as the Phrygian is caught by Orestes. Antistrophe as Interlude : Silence ? or raise an alarm ? Exodus.— Spectacular Finale : Menelaus and the crowd below, Orestes and his friend on the palace with torches to fire it, and holding Hermione as hostage. Divine Intervention.— Apollo. 1-70 71-139 1405-210 211 316-55 470-629 from 729 807-43 852* 960-1012 ioi8*-99 I 100-1245 1246-1310 1311-52 1353-65 I 369*-! 502 1506-36 1537-48 i554*-i624 1625-93 * Gaps of a few lines not included in this enumeration will be found to be words of transition spoken by the Chorus to draw attention to the new personage or incident :— the analogue of our modern stage-directions. 439 THE WASPS OF ARISTOPHANES [Metrical Structure] I -M- Blank Verse. [Prologue.] The slaves watching the father-explanation foS^ audience as to the father's strange disease and the vanous kmds of treatment attempted-incident of the attempted escape. Long Iambics. Entry of the Chorus on their way to court gloating ove?fherrunworthyoccupation-...V^3^«.--^-^f^^^^^^ la strophe and antistrophe of wonder at not finding ihetr cSmrade- another strophe and antistrophe of concerto with hnkboys I^egular Lyrics. Love-Cleon speaking from withm the house declares the confinement in which he is kept by his son-z« a strophe of angry questionings the Chorus wonder at such daring impiety —then a sudden change to Anapaests with the thought that escape must be attempted, fht l^uftrophe comes when the Cliorus, after repeated suggestions for VscTpe have been rejected, urge that something must be done for morning is at hand. The anap^sts resume as the device of gnawing the net is nut in action, though unsuccessfully as Love-Cleon is caught. S^e^kr Lyrics: burst of wrath by the Chorus who send for TrochScs are heard for the first time as Hate-Cleon the contriver of all this imprisonment, speaks and demands a parley-this is rejected and ^^^I^e^lar^Lyrics as the Chorus getting the worse in the fight raise the regular cry of 'tyranny.' 1 j- „ „„ Trochaics resume as Hate-Cleon calls for a second par ey, leading up to a regular Forensic Contest. Hate-Cleon undertaking to prove that a juror's life is slavery, not bliss. . , , Irregular Lyrics : bustling preparations for the contest. Anap^stic* Forensic Contest. Love-Cleon puts the case m favour 7fT iuror's lot. [Note two iambic couplets in the rmddk of the contest- in which each combatant separately plumes ^-self - ^^.e strength of his case.] Hate-Cleon puts the case against the jurors To^^ards the end a strophe and antistrophe of the Chorus advising the Bla^ Ters'^^fe'Iv^'ed after more than five hundred lines). Love-Cleon Sv^ay -Incident of the jury proceedings, conducted in domestic privacy J:;;/! sZpMcL other lyncs interspersed parodying the inauguration ceremonies of a court of justice. [Parabasis] Incident of practising the father in the ways of young men. [Irregular lyrics at intervals for quoted songs or bits of dancing.] ^iJllyfl interlude scene of the converted juryman outdoing the young __T.-,c ifter another lyric interlude , j- » stctacular Fta>le : cUmax of wildness on the part of the old »»■> l^'?'"? •"> f^areetL inToduCion and) .trophic crai^ance-M.:^ Chorus dancmg out in irregular iambics. * Anap^stic, because the thesis which Hate-Cleon undertakes to prove Chorus point of view, a monstrous parodox. See above, page 307. 1-229 230 248-72 273-89 291-316 317 333-45 346 365-78 379 403 415 463 472 526 546-759 634, 642 729-49 760 862-90 1009-1 121 1 122 1275-91 1450-73 1518-27 is, from the I' 440 441 THE FROGS OF ARISTOPHANES [Metrical Structure] THE LYSISTRATA OF ARISTOPHANES [Metrical Structure] -♦"♦- -♦♦- ''\ Generating Action Blank Verse. Bacchus accompanied by his slave Xanthias (with an ass) makes a call on his divine cousin Hercules before repeating Hercules' feat of a descent to Hades— thence to the bank of the Styx. Irregular Lyrics. Invisible Chorus of Frogs disturbed by Bacchus in his row over the Styx. [Concerto.] Blank Verse. Scene of Bacchus's terrors on the further bank of the Styx. Lyrics. Comus-procession of the Initiated [Parode] in strophic* lyrics with interruptions : (i) of blank verse by actors from the stage, (2) anapaestic interlogue, a mock proclamation for the uninitiated to withdraw made an attack on social evils, (3) iambic interlogue, lam- poons on individual persons. Blank Verse. Farcical incident : reception of the supposed Hercules by the people of Hadts-^ro^n by comments from the Chorus {in dichototnous lyrics). [Parabasis] Main Plot Blank Verse. Gossip of the slaves bringing out the projected contest. Lyrics including hexameters : the Chorus anticipating the arrival of the competitors. Blank Verse : the poets take their seats disputing precedence. Lyrics including hexameters: the Chorus invoke the Mases. Blank Verse. The poets offer prayer to their respective deities. Strophe of expectation from the Chorus merging in Long Iambics (with climax) : Euripides leads the discussion. Antistrophe : the Chorus look to Aeschylus : merging in Anapaests (with climax) : Aeschylus takes the lead in the discussion. Strophe and Antistrophe : Chorus sing the mighty strife. Blank Verse : discussion of prologues and versification. Lyric burst of anticipation from the Chorus leading to Mixed verse : discussion of lyric composition. Short lyric burst from the Chorus at the suggestion of a balance. Blank Verse. Incident of weighing verses in the balance. Strophe and Antistrophe of victory by the Chorus. Anapaests with hexameters for climax : triumphant procession in honour of Aeschylus. 1-207 209-68 269-322 323-459 460-673 674-737 738 814 830 875 885 89s 90s 992 Z004 1099 1119 1251 X261 1370 1378 1482 1500 Note the important variation of strophic form by which we find two antistrophes to one strophe [viz. 440^4 and 444-7 to 394-7 according to Bergk's arrangement. Another example (also in a late play) is Mysteries 959-61. 962-5, 966-8]. This is interesting as a link in the transition to the modern conception of stanzas. [See above, page 9 ] Blank Verse. [Prologue.] Conspiracy of the Women up to the point 1-253 where a shout indicates that the Acropolis has been seized. Long Iambic section of the play. Hostile Choruses of Men and of Women 354-483 (to attack and defend the Acropolis) enter from opposite sides and exchange insult and defiance : strophic passages interspersed. Blank Verse episode : the Magistrate enters to assert the law — con- 387-466 fronted by the women conspirators — a scrimmage and return to Long Iambics as the police get the worse — climaxing in a Strophe from tlte Chorus 0/ Men demanding enquiry : thus the play passes to its Anapaestic stage: Lysistrata in response to the Magistrate commences 484-613 the ' paradoxical justification ' : first she exposes the bad government of Man — AntistropJie* from the Chorus of Women expressing devotion to their cause — then she puts the advantages of women's management as it is to be. Blank Verse : The magistrate scornful : the play passes to its 608-13 Trochaic stage. The Choruses of Men and Women face one another 614-1043 and exchange scorn and violence {largely strophic) — this interrupted by Blank Verse episode : individual women deserting finally brought back 706-80 by an oracle. [In this Women's scene the Chorus of Women share, the Chorus of Men are ignored.] Trochaic contest of the hostile Choruses resumed {entirely strophic) — another interruption by a Blank Verse episode. A man deserter tantalised by his wife. [In 829-953 this Man scene the Chorus of Men share, the Chorus of Women are ignored.**] — Brief lyric climax — then another blank verse scene: reception of Lacedaemonian Herald. Trochaic contest of the two Choruses resumed with ever decreasing hos- tility : as they at last make peace the play passes into its Lyric stage, jfoint Chorus of Men and Women express their delight at £rom IO43 the reconciliation in {strophic) surprise lyrics. Blank Verse. Reception of the Lacedaemonian Ambassadors : Lysis- 1074 trata introduces them to Reconciliation. [Both parts of the episode introduced by anapaests.] Strophic surprise lyrics continued. 1188 Blank Verse. Preparations for Finale : the Athenians and their Lace- 1216 daemonian guests coming from the banquet. Lyric Dance by Lacedaemonians on the stage. Blank Verse. Preparations : Lysistrata arranging the partners. 1273-8 and 1295 Lyric Finale. Attic and Doric Dances. 1279, 1296 * 541-8 [parallel with 476-83] : introduced by a couplet of long iambics as they lay their pitchers down to dance (that is, retire from their long iambic position, so to speak). ** The solitary line 970 assigned by Bergk to Chorus of Women is surely better given to Kinesias, as in Dindorfs text. T?" 44^ THE CAPTIVES OF PLAUTUS [Metrical Structure] Bleink Verse I. Prologue. f Underplot.] Caricature Scene : the Parasite condoling with Hegio on the captivity of his son as a means of fishing for an invitation. Blank verse, as Hegio proceeds to himself take part m the intrigue against himself by a formal transfer of supposed slave to supposed master — then the scene returns to Blank verse : intrigue broken down — despair — Tyndarus calmly defiant — remorse of Aristophantes. Long Iambics. [Underplot.] Com- ment of a servant lad on the Parasite's gastronomic performances. -M- Accelerated Rhythm II. After a lyric prelude {slaves con- doling luith the Captives — the Cap- tives referring in general terms to their secret intrigue] the scene passes [with the first solemn appeal to main- tain the intrigue] to Accelerated Rhythm — in which is conveyed the long business of maintaining the exchanged identities in presence of Hegio — interrupted by Accelerated Rhythm : final steps in the intrigue and affecting farewells. III. [Underplot complicated.] The Para- site in despair : no invitations : desperate councils. After a lyric prelude of agitation as Tyndarus sees approaching, and seeks to evade, the acquaintance ivhose recog7iition will betray the intrigue scene becomes trochaic to mark the actual meeting — acute complication as Tyndarus fences with Aristophantes — change to IV. 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C.S .art P^rt .i:M5i2 3c E c 2 :s E G rt 4) rJ "SH 3 E « ssO E rt o rt •^ E op bO*^ ■•-' *^ ^ «;ii ■M cS O U • w^ r^ OJ •^ s?5.^ 2 »^ p H aS HE C-- E a U ^ rt 'S cS (/) _wC/3 CJ^!?PJ222 o c c V ^ u V u C ►5J5 Ofax o • •4 V h ^j ■ - - o 2 H V rt rtfa »5 o rt 1 COURSES OF READING FOR THE STUDENT TO SELECT FROM FOR FURTHER STUDY. J. { i / '> COURSES OF READING. I. The Mythology embodied in Ancient Poetry. As a text-book: Keightley's Classical Mythology (Bohn, 5J.). — But the study of the text-book should be accompanied with some working up of the myths in literary form ; e. g. Ruskin's Queen of the Air, Kingsley's Heroes (Macmillan, 4^. 6d.), Mr. Lewis Morris's Epic of Hades. Several of the tales in William Morris's Earthly Paradise * are of this nature : e. g. * The Doom of King Acrisius,' * Cupid and Psyche.' These are modem handlings of ancient myths. A specimen of the ancient myth-form utilised for modem thought is the (too little known) Myths of the Dawn by Miss Johnson-Brown (Kegan Paul, (js.). II. English Classics bearing upon Ancient Literature. 1. Robert Browning's Balaustion's Adventure (Smith, Elder, & Co., 5J.) and * The Love of Alcestis/ in William Morris's Earthly Paradise* to be read with the Alcestis of Euripides. Longfellow's Golden Legend handles a similar problem amid Christian surroundings. 2. William Morris's Life and Death of Jason (Reeves and Turner, 8j.), to be read with the Medea of Euripides. Several of the tales in his Earthly Paradise * are classical in their subjects : e. g. ' The Doom of King Acrisius,' ' Cupid and Psyche,' * Atalanta's Race/ ' The Death of Paris,' * The Golden Apples.' 3. Mrs. Browning's Prometheus Bound (translation from Aeschylus) and Shelley's Prometheus Unbound. 4. Ruskin's Queen of the Air, Kingsley's Heroes, Lewis Morris's Epic of Hades, dealing generally with ancient mythology. 5. Milton's Satnson Agonistes. Mr. Swinburne's Atalanta and Erechtheus (Chatto and Windus, each 6j.). Mr. Todhunter's Helena in Troas (Kegan Paul). 6. Homer as an English Classic: Lliad, translated by Chapman (in * Universal Library,' Routledge, is.), or in prose by Lang (Macmillan, 12s. 6d.). Odyssey, translated by WilliamMorris (Reeves and Turner, 6s. 6d.). * Reeves and Turner, 25^. COURSES OF READLNG. III. 459 One of the Three Great Masters of Tragedy. If Aeschylus or Sophocles be selected, Plumptre's introductions will be found help ul.* If Euripides, see Canon Westcoit's articles on rreHg ou deas {Contemporary Review, April, i884)-Froude's 'Sea Studies' in the — Albo, on the whole subject compare Symonds's Greek Poets. IV. Plays in Groups. 'Presenting Thebes' and Pelops' line Or the tale of Troy divine.' Milton: II Penservso. The plays in each group are arranged in the order of the story ; but thcv are quite independent of and often i?iconsistent with, am another. Legends of Thebes. Oedipus King of Sophocles. Oedipus at Colonus of Sophocles, f Ser>en agaimt Thebes of Aeschylus. < IVomen/ro^t Phoenicia of Euripides Antigone of Sophocles. Bacchanals of Euripides. { With this section students who are musical might read Mendelssohn's Anttgone and Oedipus at Colonos. (Novello, ^. and 3^.) P Iphigenia in Aulis of Euripides. Rhesus of Euripides. Ajax of Sophocles. Philoctetes of Sophocles. ( Daughters of Troy of Euripides. ? Hecuba of Euripides. P Agamemnon of Aeschylus. ILt^-o'Jsofhodef^"^*" ^"'"'^'""'^ of Aeschylus. Electra of Euripides. Orestes of Euripides. The Blessed Goddesses {Furies, or Eumenides) of Aeschylus P iphigema among the Tauri of Euripides. ^ r Helena of Euripides. Andromache of Euripides. With this section may be read the Lliad of Homer [see above • II 6] the 'Death of Paris' in the Earthly ParadiseX and Tennyson's Oenone. * See note at end of preface on English Translations. se^aSe%teo?:f'the Se of^TroT "" '^'^"^ '° '^' ''^'^^ °' '"^ ^^'^^^ ^^'^' ^ X Reeves and Turner, 25J. The Tale of Troy and Children of Pelops. t r }■ 460 COURSES OF READING. One of the Shakespearean plays works up this subject-matter into the form of Romantic Drama — Troiliis and Cressida. [It is very coarse.] For the Pelops section is specially recommended the House of Atretis, by E. D. A. Morshead (Kegan Paul, 71.) : a translation of the Agamemnon, Choephori and Eumenides. Legends of Hercules. Herailes Mad of Euripides.* The Maidens o/Trachis of Sophocles. The Children of Hercules {Heraclidai) of Euripides. Alcestis of Euripides. To this legend belongs ' The Golden Apples ' in Mr. Morris's Earthly Paradise.'^ Legends of Prometheus and Id. Prometheus ^i77<«rf of Aeschylus J. The Suppliants of Aeschylus §. With this may be read Shelley's Prometheus Unbound. Medea of Euripides. The Argonautic Expedition. With this is strongly recommended William Morris's Epic: Life and Death of Jason (Reeves and Turner, 8i'.). The Persian War. The Persians of Aeschylus. With this may be read G. W. Cox's Tale of the Great Persian War from Herodotus (Longmans, 3^. 6^/.). V. Comedy. It is difficult to suggest reading in this department until more translations adapted to modem taste are made accessible. [See note at end of Preface.] The Student may select from what plays have been rendered readable, and proceed to Robert Browning's Aristophanes' Apology (Smith, Elder and Co., 5J.). " Translated by Mr. Browning in his Aristophanes' Apology (Smith, Elder, & Co., t Reeves and Turner, 255. X Translated by Mrs. Browning in her Works. § Translated by Morshead (Kegan Paul, 35. 6d.). I i ¥ INDEXES. GENERAL INDEX. INDEX OF PLAYS. GENERAL INDEX, t J -f*- Acatalectic 401 (note 2\ Accelerated Rhythm 87. [See Metre Trochaic] — movement 180 (note 2), 278. Accius 379 (note 2). Action, unity of 125— plots of 129, 134-41- Actor, origin of 14— speaking and mute 16, 127 (note 2)— tendency of Chorus toward 177. Acts in Roman Tragedy 206. Adrasteia 93. Aeschylus, a contemporary of So- phocles and Euripides 174-c —his works : Chronological Table page 4 5 1— his spectacular display 128 [cf. 36, 42, 61]— his relation to unity 194 — to the struggle of thought and form 200 — his Story of Orestes 25-62. Aesop parodied 445. Afranius 379 (note 2). Afber-Besponse 301. {See Struc- ture of Parabasis.] After- Speech 301. {See Struc- ture of Parabasis.] Agglutination in tragic plots 187-8— in Roman Tragedy 217-8 — in Greek Comedy 3O6. Allegory as a comic effect 339. Anangke 93. Anapaest 87. {See Metre.] Antepirrhema 301. [See Struc- ture of Parabasis.] Anthesteria 7. Antiphonal Psalms and Odes 70-3. Antistrophe 9. {See Strophic] Apollo, his connexion with the Chorus 10— with Prophecy 26, 39— with the interest of Splendour 111. Apollodorus 377. Archilochus 16, 249-50. Areopagus 51, 58-60. Arion, Revolution of 8-11. Aristocratic Comedy 260, 369. Aristophanes as a Politician 321-4 —as a reformer of Comedy 324-5 . —his Birds 271-90— his contri- butions to Choral Comedy 293- 345 — to Transitional Comedy 349-73. ^ Asmata 273 (note). At6 I or, 57. Attraction of the Comic Chorus to Tragedy 351-3— metrical 406. Auspices 106, 280-1. Bacchic Worship 116-7. {See Dionysus.] Ballad-Dance as literary proto- plasm 3— definition of 3— Com- mon origin foi- three Divisions of Poetry 4— varieties of 5. Blindness, Judicial 100. Brightness, Greek worship of 1 1 2-4. BryalictsB 258. Burlesque as a comic effect 333-7 —of life in Old Attic Comedy 325-6. Buskin 127 (note 3). By-Chorus 355 (note i). CaBcilius 379 (note 2>. Caricature as a comic effect 333 in Sicilian Comedy 263— in under- plot of Roman Comedy 422-3 in Romantic Drama 433. Cartooning, Dramatic 332-3. \ GENERAL INDEX. 464 GENERAL INDEX. 4^ Catalectic 401 (note 2). Celibacy as a dramatic motive 118. Character as an element of Drama 8, 141 — character contrast 151, 419 — characterisation of Chorus 17, 70— widening of characterisa- tion in Greek Tragedy 195-6 — narrowing in Roman Tragedy 422-3. Charon, steps of 127 (note i). Choral Climnx 359-60. Choral Interlude 65 (note i). \See Structure (Dramatic) of Tra- gedy.] Choral Comedy 271 and Chapters VlII, IX — its origin 265-7 — illustration of, the Birds 271 and Chapter VIII — as a dramatic species 293 and Chapter IX — its structure 293-303 (dramatic), 303-17 (metrical) — its Chorus 318-21 — its subject-matter 321-6 — dramatic element in 326-45. Choral Odes in Greek Tragedy 70-81 — compared with Biblical Psalms 70-3 — antiphonal 71 — structural parts of 9 \see Stro- phic] — prelude to 29 (note i), 55. Classification of 73-81 : Odes of Situation 73-6 — Nature 76-8 — National 78 — Human Life 79 — Hymns and Ritual 79-80 — Narrative 80-81. Develop- ment of: Disconnected from ad- jacent episodes 168-9,181-2,213- 4 — other Development 179-81, 314. Examples of: 30-2 33, 35, 44-5, 47, 5^-8, 59, 74-8i, 153, 229, 233, 236— (m Roman Tragedy) 209, 213 — (in Greek Comedy) 286-7, 288. Choral Tragedy 65 and Chapters II-IV — its origin 11-18 — illustra- tion of, the trilogy of Aeschylus and Chapter II — as a dramatic species 65 and Chapter III — structure of 65-9 (dramatic), 69- 92 (metrical) — lyrical element in 69-92 — motives in 93-124— dra- matic element in 124-41 — ex- traneous elements in 141-6. Choregi 128 (note 5). Chorus as a species of Ballad-Dance 8-9, cf. Gen. Table — its strophic form 9 — connected with the origin of Tragedy 9-18 — differentiates Greek Tragedy 65 — always char- acterised 70 — modern analogies to 66 — its conventional style 68. The Chorus of Greek Tragedy 65-70 — odes 70-81 — stage lyrics 8i-6 — as confidants and spectators in the drama 65, 66, 210 — as audience or specta- tors of the drama 66-9, 177 — as moderators 180 — as unity bond 65, 124-7 — instability of 177-82. The Chorus of Greek Comedy : introduced by imitation 265 — differentiating Old Attic Comedy 293 — a foreign element in Comedy 294 — attachment of 294 — the comic chorus a union of opposites 318-21 — instability of 351-5 — ignoring of 354 (notes 1 and 2) — multiplication of 354-60 — by-chorus 355 (note i). The Chorus of Koman Tragedy 213-7 — i*s presence not con- tinuous 206, 208, 210, 212, 213 — instability of 213-7— its mechani- cal functions 213-4 (compare 207) — ignoring of 214-5. Traces of Chorus in Koman Comedy 397-409. The Chorus and the Eomantic Drama 432. The Chorus breaking up intoSemichoruses 11-13 — Semi- choric Excitement as a metrical style 88 — Examples: 19,21,40, 46, 75, 85, 88. Multiplication of Choruses : in Greek Tragedy 66 (note 2), 355 (note i)-— in Ro- man Tragedy 215-7, 207 (note i) — in Greek Comedy 354-60 : Double Chorus 355, 357, 358, Joint-Chorus 359, Quadruple Chorus 359-60. Chorus-Leader [Exarchus, Cory- phaeus] 13, 14, 65. / ). Chorus-Provider [Choregus] 128 (note 5). Clairvoyance as a dramatic device 126 (note) — example 38-40. Classic [Ancient] Drama as a whole 427-8 — compared with Romantic Drama 427 and Chapter XII. Climax of comic plot 330. Close, Miraculous 191-2. Clytsemnestra of the three drama- tists compared 195-6. Comedy, origin of 245 and Chapter VII — rise of pure Comedy out of Satire 372-3, 420-1 — mislead- ing term in modern drama 129 (note). Forms or Species of Comedy: Primitive 258-60, 351 [variously called Lyrical Comedy 258, Iambic Satire z7;., Exhibi- tions (Deicelictee) ib.^ Dances (Orchestse) ih., Bryalicta^ ib., Spectacles (Theamata) 259, Mar- vels (Thaumata) ib.. Mimes ih?^ — Megarian Farce 261-3 — Aristo- cratic 263-4 — Democratic [of Susarion] 264, [Old Attic] 265 — Sicilian [of Epicharmus] 263-4, [of Sophron] 264 — Old Attic \jee Choral Comedy] 264 and Chap- ters VII, VIII— Middle Attic or Comedy in Transition 349-73 — New Attic 377-80— Roman 377 and Chapter XL Commos [Lyric Concerto] 82. Complexity of Euripides' plots 164 — illustrations 165-73. Complication and Resolution as a form of Greek plot 134-6, 140 (note 1)— in Roman Comedy 414- 20. Comus, as a form of Ballad-Dance 9, compare Gen. Table — descrip- tion of 247 — fossil comus in Com- ish Furry 247-9 — twice united with the Chorus 318— unites with the Chorus to form Tragedy 8-11 — with Satire to form Comedy 249. The Comus as an element of Comedy 250-1, 256-7 — the Comus-procession as imperfect combination of elements 251 — illustrated : Comus of Initiated U in Frogs 251-6— complete fusior! of elements 257. Concealment in Roman plot 420. Concerto, Lyric 82. Confidant 66, 210. \ Conventionality in Greek Tragedy \ 128-9— applied to narrative in Roman Tragedy 210-1. Coryphaeus 13 (note). Costume 16, 127 (note 3). Cothurnus 127 (note 3). Cretic metre 304-6, 383 (note i) (compare 384-5). Criticism opposed to Romantic Drama 433-5. Curse, as a form of Destiny 107. Dance, a form of Primitive Comedy 258 — Iambic ib. — without words 354- Dancing, Greek 3-4. Dark Ages, influence of in develop- ment of Romantic Drama 428-9. Decomposition of dramatic unity 182-95. Dedramatisation of Chorus in Greek Tragedy 180-2 — in Roman Tragedy 213-5— in GreekComedy 353. DeicelictsB [Exhibitions] 258. Deity worship 100 — interchange with Destiny loo-i— sinks into humanity enlarged 101-2, 1 18, 263 — criticism of or rationalism 102. Delivery in Tragedy 128 (note 4). Democracy, influence of on Comedy 265 (rise), 367 (decay). Democratic Comedy 260. Demophilus 377. Dependant underplot 413. Destiny, as a dramatic motive 93- »109 — Destiny as abstract Force ^Anangke, Adrasteia] 93— mea- sured by the Irony of Fate 96-7 — passes into Providence 97-8 — into Fortune 98 -9— as the moral sanction 99-100 — interchanges with Deity 100-3 — Destiny re- vealed 103-6 — controlled by man 107-8 — Destiny and Ro- mantic Drama 433. i / . i 66 GENERAL INDEX. '\ Deus ex machina \_see Divine Inter- vention] 172. Deuteragonist 127 (note 2). Development distingnished from history 173— order of not chrono- logical order 174-5 — i» ^^^^^ Tragedy 1 7 5-200 — in Roman Tragedy 21 3-2 2 — in Greek Comedy 349-73 — i^ Roman Comedy 377-8o, 397-42 3 /«/>«'«• Development, an element of Old Attic plot 329. 445-^^- Dialects of Odes and Episodes 15. Dialogue, origin of in Tragedy 12 — semichoric 13. [6"^^ Chorus.] Digression [Parabasis] 296. Dionysus, worship of, connected with Tragedy 5-1 1 —with Comedy 247. Diphilus 377. Dirge 46. Disclosure (of plot^i 328. Disintegration of Roman Tragedy Dissimulation as a dramatic ettect 141, 211. , . , Dithyramb, connected with ongm of Tragedy 5. Divine Intervention 172. l^^ee Structure of Tragedy.] Doric influence in Tragedy 10, 15 —in Comedy 260— ritual m Ly- sistrata 359, 360. Double Chorus 355-9- Dramatic Cartooning as a comic effect 332-3- ..rr . Dream of ClytDcmnestra, different treatments of 152— as a form of Revelation 106 (note)— Conven- tionalised 211. Drunkard, as a dramatic type 203. Dumb Show 212. Duplication of plot 413. Eccyclema [Roller - Stage] 12 7 (note I), 126 (note i)— examples 40, 54('^ote), 55- ^ Effect, Comic, Varieties of 331-45 \see Margins]. Ennius 379. Enthusiasm 6, 247. Entry of Chorus, or Parode 65 (note). \_See Structure.] Enumeration, a term of Style 121 —Comic 342-3- Epicharmus 263-4. ^ -o 1, ^ Epic Poetry : origin out of tJallaa Dance 4, cf. Gen. Table— con- nexion with origin of Tragedy 14-5, 17— an extraneous influence in Greek Tragedy 145-6— in Ro- man Tragedy 2 1 8-9— in Romantic Drama 432. Epilogue in Roman Comedy 390- Eph-rhema 301- i^^^ Structure of Parabasis.] Episode 65 (note 1). \See Struc- ture.] Epode 9 [see Strophic)— of Horace Erinnys 106-7, 51-2,56-8, 100 Error, an element of Roman plot 419-20. Euripides: a contemporary ot Aeschylus and Sophocles 174-5— his works: Chronological Table 451— different estimates of 160— the anticipator of modern drama ib.—his realism 160-1— his Elec- tra 161-73 — his mythological prologues 121— not a woman- hater 122-4 — his spectacular effects 128— his secondary plots 189— his relation to unity 194— to struggle of thought and form 200— Euripides and Aristophanes 324- Exarchus 13 Exhibitions [Deicelictze] 258. Exodus 65 Ci'Ote). \_See Struc- ture.] ,. Explanation of plot to audience 272— Paradoxical [Anapaestic] in Greek Comedy 307, 445-6- Extemporisation in early Comedy 264. . , Extraneous elements in OreeK Tragedy 141-6— in Roman Tra- gedy 219-22. , Extravagant Fancy as basis ol Old Attic plot 326-7— compare in Romantic Drama 433. I i! GENERAL INDEX, 467 Family tie as dramatic motive 117. Fancy as an element of art 319 — connected with the Comic Chorus 319-20 — with Old Attic plot 326. Farce as a comic effect 337-8. Fate, Irony of 96. Fate-haunting 107. Field [of Characterisation] 195. Finale 65 (note). \See Structure.] Final Situation, Development of, as a form of tragic plot 131. Forensic tastes of Athenians 60, 141, 323 — Contest in Greek Tra- gedy 142-5 [other examples: 1 53-4, 1 70-1 , 2 38-40] — connected with dedramatisation of Chorus 180-1 — an encroachment on unity of standpoint 183-4. I^^ Roman Tragedy 219-20 (compare 208-9). In Greek Comedy 296, 309. Form of plot : Greek Tragedy 1 29- 40 — Roman Tragedy 203 — Greek Comedy 326-30 — Roman Comedy 414-20. Struggle of matter and form 176, 200. Fortune a form of Destiny 98-9. Fortune- Turns, a form of plot 136 (compare 172). Friendshipasadramaticmotiveii8, Furies [Erinnyes] 106-7, 5^-2, 56-8, 100. Furry, Cornish, as fossil comus 247-9. Geloei 264. Generating Action 328. \See Plot in Old Attic Comedy.] Geography as a dramatic motive 121. Ghosts 109, 54, 207, 211. Gnomes in Greek Tragedy 171 (compare 228) — in Seneca 208-9 — in Epicharmus 263. Haunting by Fate 107. Heroics, Mock 342. Hexameter 249, 306, 313. Homeric epic 14 — satire 249 — conception of Deity 102. H Horace, epode of 250. Horror, Interest of, as a dramatic motive 109. Hospitality part of Greek worship of Brightness 113 — connected with the Alcestis 11 3-4 — with Euripides' Elcctra 165. Human Interest in Euripides 200 — in Roman Drama 423 — in Ro- mantic Drama 433. Human wSacrifices 109. Human Sentiments as a dramatic motive 11 7-8. Hybris 100. Hymns [.^^^ Choral Odes] 79, 62. Hypocrites 14. Hypotheses 264. Iamb 16. \Sce Metre.] Idealisation of Life as a dramatic motive 1 19-21, 433. Ignoring of Chorus in Roman Tragedy 213-5 — i^ Greek Comedy 354- Imitation as a force in develop- ment : disturbing 265-6 — retard- ing 204. Incidental Effects in Greek Comedy 331-45 — rise of into underplot 361-7. Individuality in the character isation of Euripides 195-6. Infatuation as a form of Destiny 100 — Examples 37, 42. Initiated, Comus of the, in the Frogs 251-6. Instability of the Chorus in Greek Tragedy 176-82 — in Roman Tragedy 2 1 3-6 — in Greek Comedy 350-60. Interiors, devices for disclosing 126 (note). Interlogue in Comus-procession : anapaestic 252 — iambic 255. Interlude, Choral 65 (note). \See Structure of Tragedy.] Intervention, Divine 191. {See Structure of Tragedy.] Interweaving \see Strophic form] 314-5- / h2 i I I 468 GENERAL INDEX, } Intrigue as an element of Roman plot 417. [Compare 415-6.] Invocation of Chonis in Greek Comedy 295. {See Structure.] Invocation, Strophe of 300. [^See Structure of Parabasis.] Ionian influence on Tragedy lo, 15 — on Comedy 260. Irony of Fate 96— as a dramatic effect: in Greek Tragedy 128, 141 (illustration 158-60) — in Ro- man plot 417-9— in Romantic Drama 433. Irregularity as a term of art 331 — developing into strictness 361-7, Irresistible, The, as a form of Destiny 93-5. Iteration as a form of Wit 341. Joint Ode 359. Judges of the plays 285. Judicial Blindness 100. Justification, Paradoxical in Attic plot 329-30, 445-6. Lampoon 331. [Compare 249-50.] Leit-motif usage of metre: troch'aics 3J1-2 — long iambics 312-3 — hexameters 313. Lenasa 7. License of Old Attic Comedy 266-7, 361. [Compare 323.] Licinius .^79. Literary Burlesque as a comic effect .')o4- Literary effect distinguished from linguistic in metres 88, 92, 306-7 ,317- Literary Satire 324. Livius Andronicus 379. Love as a motive in Roman Comedy 421— religion of 115. Lucius Lavinius 379, 377. Lycurgus, Story of, as imaginary illustration for Stages of Tragedy 18-22. Lyric Poetry: its origin in the Ballad-Dance 4 — an element in the development of Tragedy 8-22. Lyric element in Greek Tra- gedy 69-92 [Choral Odes 70-81 — Stage-Lyrics 70, 81-6 — conse- quent metrical variations 86-92] compared with lyric matter in Shakespeare 225-6. Lyric Tragedy 11, Comedy 258, Satire ib. Lyrics, Stage 70, 81-6. Monody, or Lyric Solo 81-2 — examples in Greek Tragedy 82, 163, 237 — substituted for a Choral Interlude 1 79> 438 — in Roman Tragedy 203 — in Greek Comedy 296 — in Ro- man Comedy 383-5. Lyric Concerto [Commos] 70, 82 — examples in Greek Tragedy 82-6, 92 (note 2), 163-4, 179 (note 3), 230-1 — in Roman Tragedy 203, 205 — in Greek Comedy 296. Macbeth, Shakespeare's, arranged as an Ancient Tragedy 221; and Chapter VL Machina 127 (note i). Machina, Deus ex 127 (note i). [Divine Intervention.] Machinery of Ancient Stage 127 (note i). Madness as a dramatic interest 109, 105 i^note;^, 126 (note)— ex- amples 50, 91. Manners distinguished from Char- acter 333. Margites 249. Marvels [Thaumata] 259. Masks 16, 127 (note 3)— a limit- ation on characterisation 128. Masque as a comic effect 33S. Matter of Tragedy 93-124 [see Motives], 203— struggle of matter and form 176— subject-matter of Greek Comedy 321-6 — narrowing of this with development of Comedy 367— matter of Roman Comedy 420-3. Mechaxiical functions of Roman Chorus 213-4 — personages a source of underplot 413. Megara and Megarian Farce 261-3. Menander 350 (note), 377, 379. GENERAL INDEX, 469 Mesode 9. [See Strophic] Messenger's Speech an extraneous element in Greek Tragedy 145-6 — origin of 15, cf. Gen. Table — bearing on dramatic unities 126 (note), 192-4 — list of 145 (note 2) — illustration of 155, 169, 193, 241-2 — in Roman Tragedy 213 — in Greek Comedy 296. Metre : Literary and Linguistic in- terest of distinguished 88, 306-7, 317, 401 — metrical stjdes distin- guished from metres 88 (compare 86)5306-7,401 — metrical variation an element of literary effect 88, 92, 306-7, 317, 401, 409 (note 2), compare Tables 438-44 — metrical development from ancient to modern drama409, 432. Metri- cal laws (in Roman Comedy) : law of variety and contrast 405, 409, 307, 297 — law of persistence 406-7. Metrical scale in Greek Comedy 307, 309, 310 — leit-motif in metre 311. [Throughout com- pare Tables illustrating Metrical Structure 438-44.] Metre [Metrical Styles, Metrical Structure] in Greek Tragedy 86-92 — in Roman Tragedy 203 — in Old Attic Comedy 303-17— in Sicilian Comedy 264 — in Roman Comedy 401-9 — in Shakespeare 92, 409 (note 2). Metre, Anapaestic : * Marching Rhythm ' as a metrical style of Greek Tragedy 87, 88-90, 28, 61. Anapaestic rhythms in Greek Comedy 303-4 — theirusage 307-9, 3io» 313. 317. 277— anapaistic interlogue in parode to the Frogs 252. Metre, Cretic : 304-6, 383 (note i). [Compare 384-5.] Metre, Hexameter : literary usage in Comedy 306, 313. Metre, Iambic : Iambic foot 16 — connected with Archilochus and Satire 249-50 — Iambic Dance 258 — Iambic Interlogue in parode to the Frogs 255. Blank Verse [Iambic Senarius, Iambic Sixes] : compared with English Blank Verse 16 (note) — intro- duced into Tragedy 16 — into Comedy 250 — as a metrical style 86 — literary usage in Cireek Tra- gedy 90-2 (compare Table 438), 39,41, 61, 232 — in Greek Comedy 316-7 (and Tables 439-41) — in Roman Comedy 401, 405-7, 408 (Tables 442-4). Parallel Verse [Stichomuthic] as a metrical style 86 — connected with Rhetoric 142 — illustrations 86-7, 55, 61, 87 (note i), 230, 235. Long Iambics [Iambic Tetrameter Cata- lectic, lambici Septenarii, Iambic Sevens] 306, 402 (note i) — liter- ary usage in Greek Comedy 312-3, 310, compare Tables 439-41. — In Roman Comedy Lengthened Iambics include this and Iambic Eights [lambici Octonarii, Iambic Tetrameter Acatalectic] 402 (note I ) — literary usage 408-9, compare Tables 442-4. Metre, Lyric : definition 401 (note l) — as a metrical style 88. Anti- phonal Lyrics in Greek Tragedy 88 — examples 28-32, 33, 35, 56-8, 81-4 — devices of: inter- weaving 314-5, reversal ib., dicho- tomy 314 (compare 179-80, 288- 90, 438) — usage in Greek Comedy 313-5. Irregular Lyrics [non- strophic] in Greek Tragedy 88 — Comedy 316 — Roman Comedy 401 (with note i), 383, 402-5, 408-9. Semichoric Lyrics 88, 19, 21,46,75,85. Metre, Trochaic: 304-6. Ac- celerated Rhythm [Trochaic Tetrameter Catalectic 87 (note 2), Trochaici Septenarii 401 (note 2), Trochaic Sevens] as a metrical style 87 — its usage in Tragedy 42, 91-2, no, 242, 438 — in Greek Comedy 309-12 (compare 297, 301, 439-41) — in Roman Comedy 401, 405-7, 408-9 (compare 442- 4) — Another Trochaic Metre in ./ F'v 470 GENERAL INDEX. Roman Comedy [Trochaici Oc- tonarii 401 (note 2), Trochaic Tetrameter Acatalectic] 392-3, 401, 408, 408 (note 2). Mime 259— of Sophron 264. Miraculous Close 191-2 — united with Formal Prologue at the be- ginning of aplay 192 (note 2), 204. Mock Heroics 342. Monody 81. \^See Lyrics ^Stage).] Moralising in Roman Comedy 398 (compare 383-7, 3^8, 390— i^^ Sicilian Comedy 263. Moral Sanction, Destiny as 99. Motives,Draraatic,in Greek Tragedy 93-1 24 : Destiny 93-109 — Interest of Horror 109-11— of Splendour 1 1 1-7 — Human Sentiments and Bonds 1 17-8— Idealisation of Life 119-21 — Prose Interests 12 1-2 — Social Topics 122-4. In Roman Tragedy 203. In Greek Comedy 321-6. In Roman Comedy 420-3 : Satire superseded by pure Comedy 420 — Love 421— Carica- ture for underplot 422-3. Mo- tives descending from Classic to Romantic Drama 433. Multiple Action in modem drama 1 25 — approaches toward in Greek Tragedy 187-90 — in Roman Tra- gedy 2 17-8,2 17 (note 2)— in Greek Comedy 366— in Roman Comedy 412-4. Myth as comic effect 339. Mythology as an interest in Tra- gedy 121— as a mode of Satire 263, 287-8, 288-9, 369. \ Nsevius 379. r . J National character of ancient dra- matic celebrations 51. Natural expansion as a develop- ing force 175. Nature, worship of, connected with origin of Tragedy 5-8— different treatment of in Greek and Hebrew poetry 76-8— Odes of 76-8 — idealisation of 119-20. Necessity as a form of Destiny 93, 80. Nemesis as an element m Destiny 99, 100. Nexus of Odes and Episodes 29O. S^Sce Structure of Comedy.] Oath as an element in Destiny 108 (note i). Ode 9, II. [5^6' Choral Ode.] Omen as a form of Revelation 106 —illustrations 34, 35» 39» 42, 5°- Opening Situations connected with plot form in Greek Tragedy 130-4 — in Roman Comedy 415. Oracles as a form of Revelation 103-5 — ^^ oracular action ib. — illustrations 103, 137, 150, 163— final oracles 192. Orchestae [Dances] 258. Orchestra 9, 127 (note i), 44. Orestes, Story of, by Aeschylus 23 and Chapter II— corresponding plays by Sophocles 149-60, and by Euripides 161-73. Pacuvius 379. Psean 45. Psegnia 264. Pantomime as a comic effect 339. Parabasis 296. \Sce Structure (Dramatic) of Choral Comedy.] Paracataloge [Recitative] 128 (note 4)- Parachoregema 355 (note 1). Paradox, Sustained, as a comic effect 340. Paradoxical, Justification in Greek Comedy 307, 329-30, compare Tables 445-6. Parallel Verse 86. {_Sce Metre, Iambic.] Parasite as a class type 263, 410. Parode 65 (note). {Sec Structure of Tragedy.] Parodi [Orchestra Entrances] 127 (note 1). Parody as a comic effect 334. Passion as an element of Drama 6 —plots of 129-134. GENERAL INDEX, 471 Pendulum plot 137-41 (compare 172). Periacti [Turn-scenes] 127 (note 1), 56, 59- Persian Wars, their effect on Comedy 264-5. Persistence, Comic 343-4. Personification as a comic effect 339. Perversion as a form of wit 341. Phallic Processions connected with the origin of Comedy 247. Philemon 377. Phrynichus 281, 283. Place, unity of, 125-6, 185 (note i). Plautus : his relation to Roman Comedy 379 — his Trmummus 380-97 — his metrical practice 402-8. [Compare Chapter XI passwi.'] Plot defined 129, 153. Plot in Greek Tragedy 129-41 — Passion Plot distinguished from Action Plot 129 — Varieties of Passion Plot 130-4 — Varieties of Action Plot 134-40— Plot-treat- ment of Sophocles 153 — of Euri- pides and Sophocles compared 164. Plot-forms, or forms of dra- matic movement 130, 140 (note i) : Opening Situation developed to a Climax 130-1 — Development of a Final Situation 131-2 — De- velopment from one Situation to another 132-3 — An Opening Situation developed to its Re- versal 133-4 — Complication and Resolution 134-6 — Plot of For- tune - Turns 136-7 — Pendulum Plot 137-40— Formulae for Plots i4o(notei). Plots of particular tragedies : Agamemnon 1 30, AJax 133, Alcestis 113-4, Atttigone 134, Electra of Sophocles 150-60, Electra of Euripides 161-73 — Ion 134-6, Iphigenia in Aulis iio-i, Iphigcnia among the Tauri 136- 7, Medea 132 (note 1), Oedipus King 131, Philoctetes 137-40, Prometheus 131 {noio), Sepulchral Rites 132. Multiple Plot: compounded by Agglutination 187-8— Secondary Plots 188. Plot in Roman Tragedy 203 — approach to multiple action 217. Plot in Old Attic Comedy : con- ception of it 326-7— its regular Structure 328— Generating Ac- tion 328 — Disclosure 328-9— De- velopment 3 29-30— Climax or Re- action 330. Plots of particular comedies in the Tables 439-41. Plot in Roman Comedy 414-20. Its form rests on Complication and Resolution limited by Scenic Unity 414 — formulae for Roman plots 415, 417— special feature: Resolution latent in Complication 417 — Roman plot the model for modem drama 420. Particular plot-forms depending upon the Situations of Complication 417- 20 : Intrigue 417 — Irony 41 7-9 — Character Contrast and Reversal 419 — Error and Recognition 419- 20 — Concealment and Discovery 420 — Separation and Reunion 420. Plots of particular Come- dies: Adelphi or Brothers 419, Captives 417-9, 410-11, Hecyra 420, Menachmei 419 (compare 417 note i), Mostellaria 420, Phormio 415-6, Pseudolus 420 Rudens \i'i (note i), Stic hus /^20, 412-3, Trinummiis ^oe^-6. Politics as a motive of Greek Tra- gedy 121— in Old Attic Comedy 266, 322-5 — connected with the Comic Chorus 351-2. Popular [Mediaeval] Drama, as acted Story 429— its inLuence on Romantic Drama 430, 432. Porcius Licinius 379 (note 2). Prelude to Choral Ode 29 (note i) — Prelude use of lyrics in Roman Comedy 402-4. Prologue 65 (note). \_See Structure of Tragedy.] Prophetic Art, a form of Revela- / \ 472 GENERAL INDEX, I tion 1 06 — connected with Apollo 26, 39. Prose interests in Tragedy 12 1-2 — variation of prose and blank verse in modern drama 92, 409 (note 2), 432. Protagonist 127 (note 2). Protatic personage 216, 444, 452. Providence as a form of Destiny 98. Psalms of Bible, compared with Greek Choral Odes: in form 70-3 — in matter 73-81. Par- ticular Psalms — viii. 79 (note i). xviii. 76 (note i). xxiv. 72. xxix. 77. xliv. 7s note 2). xlv. 80 (note 2). Iv. 76 (note i). Ivi. 76 (note i). Ivii. 76 (^note i). lix. 76 inote i). Ixviii. 80 (note 2). Ixxviii. 81 (note i). Ixxx. 78 (note 2\ xc. 79 (note \). civ. 77. cv. 81 (note i). cvi. Si (note i). cxiv. 78 (note 2). cxviii. 80 (note 2). cxxvii. 79 (note i). cxxviii. 79 (note i). Puns in Comedy 277, 285. Pythagorean Philosophy : its in- fluence on Comedy 263. Quatrain 71 (note i). Quadruple Chorus 359. Raillery of the Sexes 344. Rationalism as a dramatic motive 102-3 — of Euripides 103. Reaction in comic plot 330. Realism in costume and scenery 16-7 — one of the poles of dramatic effect 129 — of Euripides 160-1 (examples 115, 161-7). Recitative [Paracataloge] 128 (note 4"). Relief element in Roman Comedy 422-3. Renaissance of Democracy at Athens 264-5. Resolution [of Complication] 134-6. Retribution as a phase of Destiny 99-100. Revelation as a dramatic motive 103-6. Reverse- Surprise 341. Reversion of Choral to Primitive Comedy 351. Rhapsodist 14, 16. Rheses 142 [other examples: 151, 170, 232-3] — usage in Tragedy to repeat lyric matter in rhetoric form 151 — in Greek Comedy 296. Rhetoric as an extraneous influence inTragedyi4i-5 — as the dominant influence in Roman Tragedy 219- 22. Rhyme in modem drama represent- ing Stage Lyrics 92. Roman Tragedy 203 and Chap. V. Romantic Drama, the union of Drama and Story 427 — its three component elements 430-1 — their influence43i-2 — interests descend- ing from Classic to Romantic Drama 432-3 — developed with struggle 433-5. Rural Dionysia 7. Sacrifice, a feast 5 (compare 169- 70) — human 109 — voluntary self- sacrifices 1 09-1 1. Satire : Satiric distinguished from Satyric 197 (note ij — satire ab- stract and concrete 256-7 — as an early literary form 249-50 and Gen. Table — Lyric Satire 258 — connected with origin of Tragedy 16 — connected with origin of Comedy 250-8 — different position in Aristocratic and Democratic Comedy 260 — as a branch of comic effect : Direct Satire 331, Indirect 331- 2— Struggle of satiric GENERAL INDEX. 473 and comic elements in Greek Comedy 372-3, in Roman Comedy 420-3. Mythologic Satire in early Sicilian Comedy 263— in Transitional [Middle Attic] 369 — (examples in Birds 287-9). Social Satire connected with the Megarian Farce 263 — with Old Attic Comedy 325-6 (compare 271 J — with Roman Comedy 422- 3. Literary Satire 324, 334-7. Satyric Drama 197-9 — Satyrs ib., 8. Secondary Actors 177-8 — Chorus 355 (note I), 215-7. Semichorus 12, 88. [^^ 326, 327, 329, 330, 334, 344, 353, 354. 446, 448, 450. Boroughs of Cratinus 266. Brothers [Adelphi] of Terence 419. Busiris of Epicharmus 264. Captives of Plautus399, 400, 402-3, 406-8, 417, 417-9, 442. Casina of Plautus 450. Choephori of Aeschylus : see Se- pulchral Rites. Cistellaria of Plautus 399. Clouds of Aristophanes 266, 294, 296, 302, 303-4- 306, 308, 309, 310, 313, 314, 316, 317, 319-20, 323-4, 327' 328, 329. 330, 332, 334» 335, 340.341, 352, 353, 445, 447, 450- Curculio of Plautus 450. Cyclops of Euripides 197-9. Daughters of Troy \Troades] of Euripides 78, 81, 101, 119, 128, 142, 178, 180, 181, 192, 204-6, 294, 451. Daughters of Troy \Troades] of Seneca 203, 206-13, 214, 217, 219. 478 INDEX OF PL A YS. \ Ecclesiazusae of Aristophanes: see Women in Parliament. Electra of Euripides 146, 161-73, 178, 181, 184, 187-8, 190, 191, 192, 193, 195, 451. Electra of Sophocles 81-4, 86, 90, 132-3, 140, 146, 149-60, 177, 178, 184, 188-9, 195, 451. Epidicus of Plautus 450. Eumenides [Gentle Goddesses, other- wise Blessed Goddesses, Furies'] of Aeschylus 51-62, 66, 76, 100, 102, 107, 178, 185, 215, 355, 451. Eunuch of Terence 378. Frogs of Aristophanes 251-6, 266, 294, 295, 296, 301, 307^308, 309, 310, 313, 327, 328, 329, 330, 332, 333, 341, 345» 352, 353» 355» 362-7, 440, 446, 448, 450. Gentle Goddesses of Aeschylus : see Eumenides. Heautontitnorumenos {Self-tormen- tor'] of Terence 377. Hecuba of Euripides 78, 81, no, 145, 178, 180, 181, 192,451. Hecyra [Mother in-Law] of Terence 398, 420. Helena of Euripides 76, 108, 119, 145, 181-2, 186, 188, 451. Hephcestus of Epicharmus 264. Heraclidie of Euripides: see Her- cules^ Children. Hercules Mad of Euripides 76, 79, 81, 91-2, 103, 126, 141, 146, 175, 451- Hercules Mad oi Seneca 203, 214, 215, 221. Hercules^ Children [HeraclidcE] of Euripides no, 118, 145, 192, 294, 451. Hercules ott (Eta of Seneca 203, 214, 215, 217-8, 221. Hippolytus of Euripides 66, 76, 99, 102, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 146, 179, 180, 215,355,451. . Hippolytus of Seneca 203, 214, 219-21. Ion of Euripides 79, 80, 86, 98, 102, 103, 106, 134-6, 141, 145, 177,191,193-4,196,451. Iphigenia among the Tauri [in Tauris] of Euripides 78, 81, 98-9, 108, 118, 119, 120, 121, 136-7, 141, 145, 146, 178, 190, 200, 294, 45'- Iphigenia in Aulis of Euripides 76, 81, 110-1, 145, 451. Knights of Aristophanes, 266, 294, 301, 308, 309, 310, 314, 322, 327, 331, 333, 334, 353, 353, 3^6, 445, 447, 450- La7vs of Cratinus 266. Lysistrata of Aristophanes 266, 295, 308, 310, 327, 329, 341, 352, 355-60, 441, 446, 450. Maidefzs of Trachis : see Trachi- nics. Medea of Euripides 78, 79, 108, 109, 122, 123, 132, 140, 145, 179,451- Medea of Seneca 203, 214, MeniTchmei of Plautus 377, 417, 419. Mercator of Plautus 450. Miles Gloriosus [Mighty Man of Valour] of Plautus 400. Mostellaria of Plautus 420. Mysteries [otherwise Women at the Mysteries, Greek Thestnophoria- zusae] of Aristophanes 266, 295, 296, 299, 300, 303, 308, 310, 312, 316, 317, 319, 327, 332, 333, 335, 336-7. 352, 353, 354, 363, 366, 367, 446, 448, 450. Octavia ascribed to Seneca 203, 216-7. Oedipus of Seneca 203, 214, 221. INDEX OF PLA YS. 479 Oedipus at Colonus of Sophocles 66, 77, 78, 79' 80, 108, 121, 145, ^11^ 294, 451. Oedipus King of Sophocles 73, 96- 7, 100, 105, 131-2, 140, 145, 451- Orestes of Euripides 86, 90, 118, 119, 122, 146, 180, 189-90, 191, 438, 451. Peace of Aristophanes 266, 294, 298, 302, 306, 308, 310, 311-2, 313, 314-5, 316, 323, 327, 328, 334, 339, 340, 351, 352, 353, 355, 445, 448, 450. Persa [Persian] of Plautus 450. /Vmawj- of Aeschylus 43, 78, 145, 451. Philoctetes of Sophocles 137-40, 141,175, 179,45^. PhccnisscE [Women from Phccni- cia] of Euripides "jd, 81, no, 145, 177, 181,451. PhcenisscB [Women f-ofn Phoeni- cia] Seneca 203. Phormio of Terence 408, 415-7, 444. Plutus of Aristophanes 266, 295, 308, 310, 326, 327-8, 329, 343, 344, 354, 369-72, 446, 450. Pcenulus of Plautus 450. Prometheus of Aeschylus 76, 79, 93-5, loi, 121, 131, 140, 142, 177, 178, 184,451. Pseudolus of Plautus 403-4, 407-8, 420. Rhesus of Euripides 75, 76, 102, 145, 177, 179, 180, 186, 451. Rudens [The Fisherman's Rope], of Plautus 397, 404, 414, 417. Rustic [Agrostinus] of Epicharmus 263. Self Tormentor [Heautontimorume- nos] of Terence 377, 379, 414. Sepulchral Rites [or Libation PourerSy Greek Choephori] of Aeschylus 43-51, 76, 81, 119, 132-3, 140, 18+, 195, 451. Seven against Thebes of Aeschylus 76, 86, 179, 451. Stichus of Plautus 378, 407, 413, 420. ^//////(a;«/j of Aeschylus 118, 178, 451- Stippliants of Euripides 78, 118, 122, 126, 145, 178, 191,451. ThesfnophoriazuscB : see Mysteries. Thyestes of Seneca 203, 214, 215, 222. Trachinice [Maidens of Trachis] of Sophocles 103-5, 145, 217-8, 451. Trinummus of Plautus 380-97, 398, 401, 402, 405-6, 408, 442. Troades : see Daughters of Troy. Truculentus of Plautus 450. Wasps of Aristophanes 266, 294, 295, 310, 320-1, 323, 327, 329, .S30, 337-8, 339, 354, 439. 445, 447, 450- Women at the Mysteries : see Mys- teries. Women from Phoenicia : see Pha^- nissce. Women in Parliament [Ecclesia- zusa] of Aristophanes 266, 295, 308, 310, 315, 326, 327, 329, 342, 354, 354, 367-9, 446, 450. « « • I • •• • • « » • • » • • • * •• * ••, • \ \ TABLE OF REFERENCES. * * The Translations in the Universal Library \see note at end of Preface'] do not contain numbered lines: this Table gives the average number of Greek lines represented by each page of the English translation. Aeschylus Agamemnon Choephori liumenides Persians . Prometheus Seven against Thebes Suppliants Sophocles Antigone . Electra Oedipus King . Oedipus at Colonus Philoc fetes . Trachinice 3o| 30 33 30 30 34 35 36 321 35 37 34l Euripides Alcestis Andromache Bacchanals Electra Hecuba Helena Hercules . Hercules, Children of Hippolytus Ion . Iphigenia in Aulis Jphigenia in Tauris Medea Orestes Phanissce . Rhesus Suppliants Trojan Dames or Daughters of Troy 34 36f 37I 32 31 34 J 35 "2 34 29 26I 32 34 29 34I 28 37 30 32i THE END. • < I * COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 0032187688 O •-4 ff O vO QQ CO lR\TTl€DOIiOT € :«' • ■ -- -^ RED FEB 2 1951 OCT 1 9 1940 Sps^' ^^lfft^i^^^f^T*',*i**''^^*^:^x1^i ^r-. «■■«-- (« l.a >'=''" -> --.'%■ : .3-.-. ♦.; :^^^> #^^ !tegar^ yf^TtU H »; T •g n i yi ; . i,„^-Srff .. t^»;