SLYVYYYY
1837
wyl
SCIENTIA
ARTES
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
statnous vous
TCEBON
Printer
SI QUERIS PENINSULAMAMO NAM
CIRCUMSPICE
WWW
BBQUEST OF
PROFESSOR
M. L. D'OOGE
HIDUNHILDURRIT
888
S5oto
N84

AN ACCOUNT
OF THE
HARVARD GREEK PLAY.
BY
HENRY NORMAN.
To have seen a Grecian play is a great remembrance.
DE QUINCEY.
BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY.
1882.

Copyright, 1881,
BY HENRY NORMAN.
UNIVERSITY Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.

ΤΟ
PROFESSOR JOHN WILLIAMS WHITE,
παρθένου φίλας φίλω,
THIS VOLUME
IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED.
357933

Jllustrations.
26
.
I. OEDIPUS (Mr. George Riddle)
to face page 22
II. JOCASTA (Mr. L. E. Opdycke)
III. CREON (Mr. Henry Norman)
30
IV. TEIRESIAS (Mr. Curtis Guild)
34
V. THE SHEPHERD OF LAIUS (Mr. G. M. Lane) 42
VI. THE PRIEST OF ZEUS (Mr. W. H. Manning) 50
Mr. E. J. Wendell
VII. THE ATTENDANTS OF OEDIPUS
56
Mr. J. R. Coolidge
F.
.
VIII. THE MESSAGE FROM THE ORACLE AT DELPHI, v. 87. 70
IX. THE CHORUS OF THEBAN ELDERS
72
X. OEDIPUS APPEALING TO TEIRESIAS, V. 315. 76
XI. JOCASTA'S ENTRANCE INTERRUPTING THE QUAR-
REL BETWEEN OEDIPUS AND CREON, V. 634 84
XII. THE SHEPHERD ATTEMPTING TO SILENCE THE
MESSENGER FROM CORINTH, v. 1146
94
XIII. OEDIPUS OVERWHELMED AT THE HORROR OF HIS
FATE, v. 1185
XIV. CREON RETURNING AS KING, v. 1422
100
XV. THE CLOSING SCENE OF THE PLAY, v. 1523 102
. 96

Contents.
PREFATORY NOTE BY PROFESSOR W. W. GOODWIN .
9
11
16
20
INTRODUCTION
I. THE ORIGIN OF THE PLAY.
II. SOPHOCLES
III. “ OEDIPUS THE KING”
IV. THE PREPARATION OF THE PLAY
V. THE PERFORMANCES
VI. IN RETROSPECT
29
45
.
62
113
119
APPENDIX 1. THE CIRCULAR OF THE COMMITTEE .
2. THE PROGRAMME .
3. A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE PLAY.
66
123
127
WA.

Note.
THE performance of the Oedipus Tyrannus of
Sophocles in the Theatre of Harvard University in
May, 1881, was a memorable event in our quiet
academic life. After months of preparation and
anxious thought, it took us all by surprise. We
had hoped to have a dignified academic perform-
ance, which should give classical scholars a vivid
impression of one of those tragedies “ of stateliest
argument,” whose full power is beyond the reach of
the mere student, which might revive pleasant recol-
lections in some whose Greek was chiefly a memory
of the past, and which might perhaps also interest a
few others, who would regard an ancient tragedy, like
any other ancient curiosity, with kind and charita-
ble consideration. None were more surprised at the
almost universal enthusiasm which the actual per-
formance excited — none, indeed, were more surprised
at the effect of the performance upon themselves


X
Note.
than those of us who should have understood best
the power and grandeur of a tragedy of Sophocles.
This was due in no small measure to the scrupulous
fidelity with which every one who took part in the
performance devoted his best strength to its success ;
but it was due also, and more than to all else, to
the native power of Attic tragedy, which suddenly
revealed itself, even to those who were ignorant of its
form and its language alike, as a veritable “ "posses-
sion for all time.”
It is eminently proper that the first performance
of a Greek tragedy in America should be commem-
orated in some permanent record; and all who were
interested in our play will be glad to know that this
volume has been prepared for that purpose by one
whose intimate relations to the play give him a spe-
cial right to be its chronicler.

W. W. GOODWIN.
HARVARD UNIVERSITY,
December, 1881.

Introduction.
00
-
UDDENLY, in December last, an
opportunity dawned — a golden
opportunity, gleaming for a mo-
ment amongst thick clouds of impossibility
that had gathered through three-and-twenty
centuries — for seeing a Grecian tragedy pre-
sented on a British stage, and with the near-
est approach possible to the beauty of those
Athenian pomps which Sophocles, which
Phidias, which Pericles, created, beautified,
promoted.” These were the words of De
Quincey more than thirty years ago. The
opportunity was eagerly embraced, the trag-
edy witnessed with delight, and De Quincey
12
Introduction.
concludes his essay of forty pages with the
assurance that "it was cheap at the price of
a journey to Siberia, and is the next best
thing to having seen Waterloo at sunset on
the 18th of June, 1815," and condenses his
deliberate judgment in the words which serve
as a motto for the present volume. Such
unstinted praise awarded to an insignificant
representation of the Antigone in English
may serve as an apology, if one be needed,
for these pages.
The play of which they
give an account is the masterpiece of classic
tragedy; it was produced under the auspices
and within the precincts of a great univer-
sity ; each detail of the presentation was in
the charge of men known for exact scholar-
ship and literary taste; difficulty and expense
were alike disregarded in the effort to give
an impressive reproduction of an Athenian
performance; seven months were spent in
preparation. The play was witnessed by
six thousand people; on the occasion of the


Introduction.
13
-
first performance, by an audience which, for
literary distinction, has probably never been
equalled in America ; many persons were
unable to obtain seats, although ten times
the original price was freely offered; it was
reported by every considerable newspaper in
the country,* and the news of its perform-
ance was not only telegraphed to Europe,
but was even inserted in the local papers
there, so that — owing to the difference of
time — while the strains of the first choral
ode were ringing through the Sanders The-
atre, a Harvard man who was studying in
Bonn overheard a group of German students
discussing it over the Biertisch. These facts
seem to call for some permanent record and
description: it would be unfitting that an
event at once so unique in its character and
productive of such wide-spread interest should
receive no other memorial than a niche in the
limbo of pleasant memories.
а
* See Appendix 3.

14
Introduction.
In the statements concerning Athenian art
and literature which are necessary to the com-
prehension of the Harvard Greek play, the
writer presents no claim to originality. To
the committee which had charge of the play,
to whose learning and exertions its success
was chiefly due, he desires to acknowledge
his indebtedness and to express his thanks.
In addition to their interest as portraits of
the principal characters, the illustrations have
been selected to exhibit the typical costumes,
attitudes, and incidents of the play. Their
number being limited, it was necessary to
omit several portraits which might naturally
be expected. The groups and portraits are
reproductions, by the Heliotype Printing
Company, from negatives taken with great
success by Mr. James Notman, of Boston,
except the portrait of Jocasta (Mr. Opdycke),
which is by Pach. The groups were photo-
graphed on the stage of the Sanders Theatre
with the electric light; they are, therefore,


Introduction.
15
representations of the actual scenes of the
play. In comparison with the portraits,
which were taken in sunlight, they will
appear dark and somewhat indistinct; it
must be borne in mind that photographing
with the electric light is attended with many
difficulties which are not present in the ordi-
nary process. These groups of the Greek
play, of which eight are reproduced here,
are believed to constitute the most extensive
piece of photography of this kind which has
yet been attempted, and reflect great credit
upon Mr. Notman.
The illustrations in the text have been
drawn, and in several instances designed also,
by Mr. C. H. Moore, Instructor in Drawing
in Harvard University. The engraving is by
Closson.

I.

a
HE presentation of a Greek tragedy
was no new idea at Harvard Uni-
versity. In 1876 the Memorial Hall
was completed by the erection of the Sanders
Theatre, and Professor Goodwin wished to
mark the occasion by the performance of the
Antigone of Sophocles in the original Greek.
After a favorable reception and some dis-
cussion the plan was abandoned because of
its many difficulties. The idea of a Harvard
Greek play was then allowed to lie in abey-
ance, with an occasional allusion by some
enthusiastic person, until the summer of 1880.
In the mean time the Agamemnon of Aeschy-
lus had been performed with signal success
by Oxford students, and had met with the


The Origin of the Play.
17
warmest reception in London. Many ac-
counts of the Oxford play and its success
had come across the ocean and had aroused
the dormant desire to produce a similar play
at Harvard. Some of the English news-
papers have alluded slightingly to the Har-
vard play as another instance of the “man-
ner in which America follows everything that
is initiated in England." This is unjust, as
the idea had been entertained here long be-
fore the Agamemnon was thought of at Ox-
ford. On the other hand, the assertion in
this country that the Oedipus at Harvard
was an entirely spontaneous and independent
movement, is equally untrue. We are in-
debted to England for the immediate inspi-
ration and suggestion of the undertaking ;
had there been no Agamemnon at Oxford
there woulò have been no Oedipus at Har-
vard.
The awakened plan took shape at the
meetings of an informal philological club,


18
The Origin of the Play.
which numbered among its members several
Harvard professors. A Harvard Greek play,
— why not? This is not a country where
ideas go a-begging, so the proposal was no
sooner made than it found many warm sup-
porters; a few hearty discussions put it into
a practical shape and removed such obstacles
as had presented themselves, and the opening
of the autumn term found it a definite and
attractive scheme. A committee was formed,
the various divisions of the work to be done
were assigned to those most competent to
take charge of them, and conferences were
held with the students who would probably
be invited to take part in the performance.
With little discussion it was decided to
attempt the Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles.
This play was chosen, first, as the master-
piece of the classic stage, and as being typi-
cal of so many elements of Greek thought;
and secondly, because of the significance of
its plot to a modern mind, and the adap-



The Origin of the Play.
19
tability of its scenic details to modern and
local conditions.
The distribution of the rôles followed im-
mediately the selection of the play; the cho-
sen few bent themselves to their long task,
and before the autumn term of 1880 was a
month old, regular work on the Greek play
had been begun.
ST
een

II.

-
-
ESS than a mile and a half from
Athens stood the hill of Colonus.
Its beauties have been sung by
its own poet.
O stranger, thou hast reached the dwellings of a land
Where noble steeds are bred, - earth has no better homes
Colonus, with a gleaming altar crowned. Here, too,
The clear-toned nightingale pours forth her plaintive note
Down in green glades where purple ivy grows,
The ivy which she loves, and where the thicket grows
Sunless, untrodden, shaken by no winds, a fruit
Of myriad berries bearing, sacred to the God.
There joyous Dionysus wanders ever
In happy frolic with the Nymphs who care for him ;
And nourished by the falling dews of heaven each day
The clustering narcissus blooms, the ancient crown
Of mighty Goddesses ; and there its golden head
The crocus shows. The sleepless rills which flow
To feed Cephissus' streams are never dry, but with
Each day their quickening waters o'er earth's bosom flow.
The chorus of the Muses does not shun the spot,
And Aphrodite with her golden reins is there.


Sophocles.
21
;
It is no wonder that the dwellers in this
favored place were proud to call themselves
Coloniatae, as well as Athenians. And an-
other distinction was added to Colonus, which
was destined to outlast all the rest; a voice
which should ring out for ages after the
sacred groves had changed to “ cold, bare,
ruin'd choirs ”; a power which should live
on “to better and convert mankind” when
Dionysus had become a dream and Athena
but a vision. It was the birthplace of
Sophocles.
Never has any people reached such a
height of intellectual power, and left such a
legacy of influences that will be possessions
forever, as did the Greeks in the age of
Pericles. To guard against the suspicion of
ungrounded enthusiasm, it may be well to
recall the words of a careful scientific investi-
gator of men. Mr. Francis Galton, in his
work on “Hereditary Genius," at the close
of a discussion to establish the proposition

22
Sophocles.
-
that “the ablest race of whom history bears
record is unquestionably the ancient Greek,”
makes the following astonishing statement:
" It follows from all this that the average
ability of the Athenian race is, on the lowest
possible estimate, very nearly two grades
higher than our own, — that is, about as
much as our race is above the African
negro."
At this time the shadow of Eastern suprem-
acy had been dissipated and “the great
King” was no longer spoken of with ter-
ror. Marathon, Thermopylae, and Salamis,
names of immortal memory, were in the im-
mediate past; Greek courage, one may al-
most say Athenian courage, had scattered the
hosts of Persia; a struggle on which the wel-
fare of mankind depended had been won for
the cause of freedom and civilization ; “to
the triumph of the Greeks,” says Mr. Sy-
monds, we owe whatever is most great and
glorious in the subsequent achievements of


PLATE I.
:)
<

Sophocles.
23
Won.
the human race.” Free from fear and fight-
ing, Greece turned at once to the develop-
ment of its own powers : of all the cities of
Greece, Athens was the one which had done
most for its liberation, and was the first to
take advantage of what had been so bravely
“She who saved me,” was added to
the attributes of Athena. In a few years
Athens reached that height which has been
at once the inspiration and the despair of
all succeeding civilization.
The undying
names of Greece gather around Athens at
this moment: Themistocles, Aristides, Peri-
cles ; Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides; He-
rodotus and Thucydides; Phidias, — all these
may be considered contemporaneous.
Although to write an account of the life
of Sophocles has been compared to the task
of making bricks without straw, enough is
known about him to have justified the most
remarkable eulogies. The facts of his life are
briefly as follows: He was born at Colonus
-
24
Sophocles.
in 495 B. C., received a complete and typical
education, and was famous as a youth for
his remarkable beauty. On his first appear-
ance as a tragic poet, in 468 B. C., at the
festival commemorating the return of the
bones of the Athenian hero Theseus, he
defeated his great predecessor Aeschylus.
During sixty years he wrote busily, com-
posing a hundred and thirteen plays, only
seven of which, with some fragments, have
been preserved. Although so few in number,
it is probable that the dramas which still exist
are among the best he wrote; and represent-
ing, as they do, both the genius of Sophocles
and the spirit of his age, they are among the
most valuable literary possessions of man-
kind. His life embraced the whole field of
human activity ; nothing which could teach
or strengthen a man seems to have been
lacking in his experience. Auspicious in its
opening, glorious in its course, his career
was crowned with the blessing which the

;

Sophocles.
25
-
Greeks regarded as most precious, — death
came before any misfortune had disfigured
him. He died in 405 B. C., thus being spared
by one year the sight of the subjection of his
native city and the beginnings of the down-
fall of his country. This fact is brought
prominently forward in the epitaph written
by Phrynichus, - καλώς ετελεύτησ' ουδεν υπο-
,
μείνας κακόν.
“ Thrice-happy Sophocles ! in good old age,
Blessed as a man and as a craftsman blessed,
He died : bis many tragedies were fair,
And fair his end, nor knew he any sorrow.” *
Time and place appear to have found
their happiest combination in the creation
of Sophocles; this fact has impressed itself
upon almost every writer who has treated of
him. Schlegel says: “It seems that a be-
neficent Providence wished in this individual
to evince to the human race the dignity and
blessedness of its lot, by endowing him with
every divine gift, with all that can adorn and
* Symonds's translation.

26
Sophocles.
elevate the mind and the heart, and crowning
him with every imaginable blessing in this
life.” Mr. Symonds writes: “We cannot
but think of him as specially created to rep-
resent Greek art in its most exquisitely bal-
anced perfection. It is impossible to imagine
a more plastic nature, a genius more adapted
to its special function, more fittingly provided
with all things needful to its full develop-
ment, born at a happier moment in the his-
tory of the world, and more nobly endowed
with physical qualities suited to its intel-
lectual capacities.” And again : “We have
every right to accept his tragedy as the
purest mirror of the Athenian mind at its
most brilliant period.” With regard to this
latter point, — the most important in the
present connection, — no judgment can be
of more weight than that of Curtius, and
he gives forth no uncertain note. “The art
of Sophocles was a glorified exponent of the
spirit of Periclean Athens.”

-

PLATE II.
0

Sophocles.
27
It would be easy to multiply these quota-
tions. One more must be given, both on
account of its poetical beauty and of the
position of its author. Matthew Arnold re-
plies to a friend,
“Who prop, thou ask'st, in these bad days, my mind ?”
In an age when the material aspects of life
crowd out the spiritual, when art is either
a memory or a hope, whom does this man
of culture find to guide and refresh him, to
prop his soul? His answer is: The blind
old Homer much; much the halting slave
Epictetus;
“ But be his
My special thanks, whose even-balanced soul,
From first youth tested up to extreme old age,
Business could not make dull, nor passion wild;
Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole ;
The mellow glory of the Attic stage,
Singer of sweet Colonus, and its child.”



So, of the hosts of prophets and preachers,
of singers and workers, the one to whom this
28
Sophocles.
man of trained mind and pure spirit looks
" in these bad days” is Sophocles.
After what has been said of the genius and
representative character of Sophocles, nothing
need be added to show the wisdom of select-
ing his composition for performance at Har-
vard.



III.

EFORE any account of the play
itself can be given, some of the
characteristics of Greek tragedy<
in general must be briefly stated. The most
prominent of these is a fundamental religious!
character. In this respect a Greek tragedy
may be compared to the passion-plays of
the Middle Ages. The legend upon which
it was based was as familiar to the Greek
spectator as the story of the Passion is to
a modern churchman. Many of the legends
were derived from Homer, whose poems
formed the bible of the Greeks. This
would suffice to lend a solemn interest to
the representation of them; and when we
consider the additional facts that the tragic
drama was filled with the expression of feel-



30
Oedipus the King.
ings of intense patriotism, and that it was the
embodiment of the loftiest moral conceptions
of the age, the sacred character of the per-
formances becomes clear. In the tragedies
of Aeschylus the nobility of mankind is
pictured in the Gods; Sophocles struck the
key-note of subsequent Greek sentiment by
exhibiting the supreme characteristics of man-
kind in men themselves. This prompted the
saying that Euripides portrays men as they
are, Sophocles, as they ought to be. He stood
midway between the theologic vastness of
Aeschylus and the commonplaceness — using
the word in no bad sense — of Euripides.
Hence his ethical strength and the immor-
tal inspiration of his verse, παντί μέσω το
κράτος θεός ώπασεν.
When these masterpieces of tragedy were
produced there were few readers in Athens,
but many hearers. The costs of the perform-
ance were divided between the state and
some wealthy and aspiring citizen. There
-
-

PLATE III:
Kher

Oedipus, the King.
31
was a
-
-
" theoric fund” from which the en-
trance-fee was supplied to poor citizens. The
great Dionysiac festival, celebrated once a
year, was the occasion of the performance;
thirty thousand people, citizens,
men and
women, — priests, strangers, and ambassa-
dors, formed an audience from whose size
the significance of the event may be under-
stood. The highest honors were bestowed
upon the successful dramatist, and all the at-
tendant circumstances united with the great-
ness of the plays themselves to render the
performance an occasion of intense interest.
The Sanders Theatre at Cambridge some-7
what resembles the classic theatre in shape.
The stage is long and narrow, open at the
sides and top; while the seats form a series
of concentric semicircles, one above another.
Although the building does not compare in
size or dignity with the Greek theatre, it is
equally removed from the ugly outlines and
tawdry decorations of the modern playhouse.

32
Oedipus the King.
.
There is no place in this country in which
a Greek tragedy could be performed with
less apparent anachronism.
The theatre of Dionysus at Athens was
built upon the southern slope of the hill of
the Acropolis, and was entirely open to the
sky, an arrangement natural in such a fair
and regular climate as that of Greece. The
plays were performed in broad daylight, and
this open-air reality added great force to the
scenes. Many features of the famous Attic
landscape were in sight, and the actor could
make them the subjects of telling gesture.
The noble farewell of Ajax illustrates the
opportunities of this kind.

* And thee I call, thou light of golden day,
Thou Sun, who drivest on thy glorious car,
Thee, for this last time, never more again.
O Light, O sacred land that was my home ;
O Salamis, where stands my father's hearth,
Thou glorious Athens, with thy kindred race ;
Ye streams and rivers here, and Troïa's plains,
To you that fed my life I bid farewell ;
This last, last word does Ajax speak to you ;
All else I speak in Hades to the dead."
>

Oedipus the King.
33
A speech like this, full of allusions to
familiar and beloved places, delivered with
gestures suggesting the position of each, and
concluding with the death of the speaker,
must have produced a profound impression.
The spectators frequently numbered twen-
ty-five thousand, sitting on semicircular tiers
of stone seats, built one above another. Front
seats were reserved for priests, magistrates,
and distinguished strangers. The space cor-
responding to the modern pit was left open,
and in the middle stood the altar, or Ovuéln,
around which the Chorus performed its sacred
dance and sung the choral odes. The stage
was long and narrow, the back represent-
ing in most cases a palace, which was con-
structed, not merely painted. The actors
wore masks with strongly defined features
indicating the characters they were playing.
These masks were necessary to render the face
visible at a great distance; they expressed
the nobility of Gods and heroes, and made it


34
Oedipus the King.
possible for one actor to play several parts.
It is probable that the masks contained ap-
pliances to increase the volume of the voice.
Very thick-soled shoes were worn to give
heroic stature, and every article of dress
was so adjusted as to add to the appearance
of strength and dignity. The female parts
were played by men. It is important to
remember that the stage right, that is, the
entrance to the left of the spectators, was
supposed to lead to foreign parts; the stage
left, to the city, or the home of the person
concerned.
The most striking and original feature of
the Greek drama is the Chorus. As em-
ployed by Sophocles this consists of fif-
teen persons, their character varying with
the circumstances of the play, but gener-
ally corresponding to the leading part. Thus
in the Oedipus the Chorus is composed of
Theban elders. The function of the Chorus
is that of a commentary on the play: the
cho

PLATE IV.

Oedipus the King.
35
action of a play is given by the actors; the
reflection of a play is given by the Chorus.
They pour forth thanksgiving or supplica-
tions to the Gods; through their leader, the
Coryphaeus, they address the personages of
the tragedy to calm impetuosity or to give
courage; they utter philosophic odes sug-
gested by the virtues or vices, the success
or misfortune, of the characters. All these
functions are beautifully exhibited in the
Oedipus.
Οιδίπους Τύραννος, variously translated
Oedipus Tyrannus,” “ Oedipus Rex,” and
Oedipus the King," is generally consid-
ered the masterpiece of classic tragedy ; it
exhibits, says Professor Lewis Campbell,
“the perfect development of the various
elements of Greek tragic art.” Aristotle
numbers it among αι κάλλισται τραγωδίαι,
and indeed he may be said to regard it as
the type of a perfect play, since he sup-
ports most of his views on tragedy by
66

36
Oedipus the King.
quotations from it. The universality of its
portrayal of men and morals — in a word,
its supremely human character — has caused
it to be imitated and translated many times.
Beside many classic imitations, Corneille,
Voltaire, La Motte, and Dryden have each
written his Oedipus, and a modern French
translation has just been produced at the
Théâtre Français. Perhaps the most sur-
and prising feature of the performance at Harvard
was the impression left upon the spectators.
Although the majority of them were unable
to follow the Greek, and were not entirely
familiar with the Greek point of view, still
the characters appealed to them so strongly,
and the ethical situation was so overwhelm-
ing, that they listened with bated breath
and separated in silence. The old Greek
spirit of the tragedy took so deep a hold
upon the more thoughtful portion of the
audience that even now, several months
afterwards, an allusion to the play is suffi-


Oedipus the King.
37
cient to cause a change in the tone of the
conversation.
In the northern part of Boeotia stood the
ever-famous city of Thebes. Of all Greek
cities it was richest in its legendary past,
and its greatness was not diminished in his-
toric times. It was the birthplace of Diony-
sus and Hercules, the seven-gated city oů
μόνον τίκτουσιν αι θνηται θεούς ; within its
streets the strains of Amphionic music were
first heard ; its varying fortunes furnished
themes to all the poets. There, in mythi-
cal, heroic times, the scene of the Oedipus
is laid. Many years before the period upon
which the play opens, Laius had been king
of Thebes. He had taken for his wife Jo-
casta, the daughter of Menoeceus, but no
children had been born to them, — in Greek
eyes a sure sign of the displeasure of the
Gods. In order to receive counsel and aid,
or to escape punishment, there was in those
38
Oedipus the King.
days but one thing to be done, and Laius in
his sorrow followed the usual pious custom.
He betook himself to the powerful shrine of
Apollo at Delphi, praying the God to grant
that the race of the Labdacidae might not
perish. His prayer was granted, but with a
fearful addition. This is the answer of the
oracle as versified by a late writer: -
“Laios, Labdacos' son, thou askest for birth of fair offspring ;
Lo! I will give thee a son, but know that Destiny orders
That thou by the boy's hand must die, for so to the curses of
Pelops,
Whom of his son thou hast robbed, Zeus, son of Kronos, hath
granted,
And he, in his trouble of heart, called all this sorrow upon

thee." *
"
Accordingly a son was born to the unhappy
pair; but Laius, thinking to escape the terri-
ble doom, ordered his wife Jocasta to cause it
to be left to perish in the mountains. By the
mother's directions the ankles of the child
were pierced and tied together with a thong,
* Plumptre's translation.

Oedipus the King.
39
and it was given to a shepherd to be hung
up to die on a tree in the most desolate part
of Mount Cithaeron. The additional cruelty
of boring the child's ankles was to make
its death doubly sure, since even if some
tender-hearted traveller should chance upon
the hiding-place, he would be unlikely, as
a Greek, to rescue and rear a cripple. The
shepherd, however, took the dangerous course
of disobeying the royal command, and gave
the babe to.a Corinthian herdsman with
whom he was accustomed to share the pas-
This man carried the boy to Polybus
and Merope, the king and queen of Corinth,
who, being childless, reared it as their own
The only trace of his mother's cruelty
remained in the swollen feet, and from this
peculiarity the name Oidirovs — "swell-foot”
was given to him. The boy thus born
under a curse, thus cruelly condemned, and
thus miraculously saved, - a veritable mais
Tuxńs, as he afterwards called himself, — is
ture.
son.
-
-
-
40
Oedipus the King.
the famous Oedipus of Theban legend and
the hero of the Sophoclean tragedy.
Oedipus grew to manhood at the court of
Corinth, never doubting that he was the true
son of Polybus and Merope, until one day a
drunken comrade taunted him with the un-
certainty of his birth. Early on the morrow
Oedipus besought his supposed parents to
deny this uncertainty and to prove him their
A vague answer and the punishment of
the babbler did not satisfy him, and, being
unable to learn the truth at home, he too
journeyed to the Delphian Apollo. The an-
swer to the father liad been terrible, but
the curse lived, and the answer to the son
was more terrible still. Many years later
Oedipus gave this account of what the oracle
told him:
son.
66 The God
Sent me forth shamed, unanswered in my quest;
And other things he spake, dread, dire, and dark,
That I should join in wedlock with my mother, ,
Beget a brood that men should loathe to look at,
Be murderer of the father that begot me."



Oedipus the King.
41
Overwhelmed by this most frightful fate,
Oedipus determined never to return to Corinth
nor to see Polybus and Merope again, thus
imitating his father's attempt to prove the God
a liar, — and with as much success. Quit-
ting Delphi he chose a road of which he knew
nothing except that it led away from Corinth.
Following it, he came to a spot where three
ways met, the road leading from Delphi
branching towards Boeotia and towards Dau-
lia. This spot, where the ills of Oedipus
began, became famous under the name of
η σχιστη ,
ý oxlorý odòs, — the Divided Way; in the
;
second century A. D. the traveller Pausanias
saw the heaps of stones supposed to cover
the bodies of the men whom Oedipus slew.
There in the narrow pass Oedipus met an
old man travelling in a chariot drawn by
colts. It was Laius, once more on his way
to Delphi ; thus father and son strangely met.
The attendant leading the animals shouldered
the dusty wayfarer from the path. Oedipus



42
Oedipus the King.
-
turned in anger, and struck him. The old
man watched his opportunity, and with his
goad dealt Oedipus a blow on the head.
The anger of Oedipus then became uncon-
trollable, - κτείνω δε τους ξύμπαντας, he
says when describing the occurrence; “I
slew them every one.” Following the road
he had blindly chosen, he came to the vicin-
ity of Thebes, where a still more surprising
adventure awaited him. On the lofty high-
way leading to the city, the Sphinx, a mon-
ster with the face of a woman, the wings
of a bird, and the tail and claws of a lion,
had stationed herself; she seized every one
who passed, and demanded the solution of an
enigma. Those who failed to find it — and
no one had succeeded — were hurled from
the rock where she dwelt. In Oedipus she
met her match; the riddle was no sooner
propounded than it was solved, and the
Sphinx cast herself down and perished among
her victims. Arriving at Thebes, Oedipus


PLATE V.
$

Oedipus the King.
43
found it in a state of the greatest excitement
and terror. The ravages of the monster had
threatened to devastate the city, and in des-
peration Creon, the successor of Laius as
king of Thebes, had offered his crown and
the hand of his widowed sister Jocasta to
anyone who should destroy the Sphinx.
Ignorant alike of the peril and the promise,
Oedipus had accomplished this; he was conse-
quently hailed as saviour by the grateful The-
bans and received the double reward. Then
came years of joy and prosperity; four chil-
dren were born to the unsuspecting king ;
honored as a heaven-sent ruler, and happy
as a husband and father, it is not surprising
that he forgot the days of fearful oracles and
aimless wanderings. But the greater the fan-
cied security the more dreadful the awaken-
ing to bitter reality; and the awakening soon
came. A plague fell upon the famous city,
the crops were blighted and the children
were perishing. This was the beginning of
.


44
Oedipus the King.
the end, and with it the tragedy of Oedipus
the King opens.
An account of the movement of the play
will be necessarily interwoven with the de-
scription of the performance. The preceding
remarks and detailed narrative are designed
to suggest to the reader the point of view of
a Greek spectator, and therefore to aid in the
appreciation of this wonderful play. Won-
derful, for it exhibits an unparalleled union
of artistic accuracy and moral power.

“So write a book shall mean, beyond the facts,
Suffice the eye, and save the soul beside.”
2

IV.

E must now return from Thebes to
Cambridge, and resume the narra-
tive at the point where it was left
at the close of the Introduction.
As soon as a decision was reached, the
professors of the Greek department of the
University undertook the work of arrange-
ment and direction. To describe the services
of each of these gentlemen would be to
introduce matter of too personal a nature;
it must suffice to place their names upon rec-
ord as those of the persons to whom the suc-
cess of the play was mainly due. Professor
W. W. Goodwin, Professor J. W. White, and
Professor Louis Dyer were untiring in their
labors, and Professor Charles Eliot Norton
lent encouragement and suggestion.

46
The Preparation of the Play.
music
-
-
From the first the necessity of original
T
music for the play had been evident, and
the work of composing it was undertaken
by Professor J. K. Paine. The task of writ-
ing music to the choruses of Sophocles –
music which should preserve the original
metres and embody the Greek sentiment
expressed in them was a very hard one.
> Little is known about the music of the
Greeks ; it is not probable, however, that a
race which exhibited the ultimate application
of the principles of several of the arts would
remain contented with a barbaric music. In
this modern performance two courses were
open: the one, an attempt to discover the
limitations of the Greek knowledge of mu-
sic, and to compose, within those limitations,
an adequate representation of the simpler
emotions of the play ; the other, to dis-
regard the historical method, and to apply
all the wealth of modern harmony and in-
strumentation to the expression, to a mod-


The Preparation of the Play.
47
ern mind, of the varied and profound emo-
tions which the Oedipus would rouse in a
Greek breast. By the former course, the
metrical structure of the choral odes would
have been preserved, and consequently an
imitation of the Greek orchestic movements
would have been possible; these advantages
would have been offset by the dulness and
monotony of the music. By the latter course,
while strict classical accuracy would be lost,
there would be the great advantage of an
additional sympathetic presentation of the
great sentiments of the tragedy. Of these
two courses Professor Paine chose the latter ;
and although there is undoubtedly room for
regret that owing to the intricacy of modern
musical composition the metres were ob-
scured and the sacred dances so simplified
to be unrecognizable, still the music
ranked so high as a work of modern art,
and added so greatly to the comprehen-
sion of the situations and therefore to the

as

48
The Preparation of the Play.
profit of the audiences, that the final verdict
must be one of satisfaction and gratitude:
Professor Paine's work has been received
with unqualified approval: the critic of
the “Nation” ventured to prophesy that
it will be “interesting to future generations
as one of the landmarks in the history of
musical art."
After the organization of the Harvard man-
agers, the details were arranged with great
rapidity. The play was finally cast as fol-
lows *
:
.
Oedipus
The Priest of Zeus
Creon
Teiresias.
Jocasta
First Messenger
The Shepherd of Laius .
Second Messenger
Mr. George Riddle.
Mr. W. H. Manning.
Mr. Henry Norman.
Mr. Curtis Guild.
Mr. L. E. Opdycke.
Mr. A. W. Roberts.
Mr. G. M. Lane.
Mr. Owen Wister.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
* According to classic custom the characters are placed in
the order in which they speak.

PLATE VI.

The Preparation of the Play.
49
The role of Creon was originally assigned
to Mr. J. R. Howe; he was compelled by a
severe illness to relinquish it.
The dramatic chorus was composed of
members of the Harvard Glee Club, as fol-
lows:
FIRST TENORS :
Mr. L. B. McCagg, Coryphaeus.
Mr. N. M. Brigham.
Mr. P. J. Eaton.
Mr. Howard Lilienthal.
SECOND TENORS : Mr. W. P. Davis.
Mr. J. S. How.
Mr. Gustavus Tuckerman.
FIRST BASSES :
Mr. F. R. Burton.
Mr. H. G. Chapin.
Mr. M. H. Cushing.
Mr. C. S. Hamlin.
SECOND BASSES : Mr. Sumner Coolidge.
Mr. Morris Earle.
Mr. C. F. Mason.
Mr. E. P. Mason.

Rehearsals commenced immediately after
these selections were made. Mr. George
50
The Preparation of the Play.
Riddle was Instructor in Elocution in Har-
vard University, and under his direction
the actors began the study of their parts.
The beginning was made by learning the
accurate pronunciation and accentuation of
the lines, and in this each man was care-
fully trained by the professors. The lines
were then committed to memory, a scene
at a time. Each scene was put in rehearsal
as soon as it was committed.
The men
received minute instruction with regard to
voice, gesture, position, entrances and exits,
and all the usual technicalities of the stage.
It was not long before every man knew
his lines and was fairly familiar with the
other details of his part.
The progress of the work was marked
by various steps in its development. First,
the rehearsals were transferred from the hall
where elocution is studied to the stage of
the Sanders Theatre. This seemed at the
time an alarming advance.
Then came


The Preparation of the Play.
51
the first rehearsal of actors and Chorus
together. It was a memorable day when
the costumes arrived, and the scene at the
opening of the trunks was one not to be
forgotten. There were vivid exclamations
of delight from some favored man who
found himself in possession of a crimson
and gold-embroidered robe ; then a shout
of laughter as one of the mutae personae
(anglice, supernumeraries) was discovered
contemplating with rueful visage a tunic
apparently only a few inches long; there
was the comical appearance of some man
trying on his métados, and the council of
war over several pieces of stuff measuring
five feet by twelve, — were they curtains, or
ipátia? Then some one discovered the san-
dals of Jocasta, delicately wrapped in tissue-
paper, and much masculine wit was expended
.

upon them.

These costumes were prepared under the
supervision of Mr. F. D. Millet, who had
costumes
52
The Preparation of the Play.
made a prolonged study of costume from
the historical and artistic points of view.
Each dress was the subject of detailed con-
sideration, with regard to historical accu-
racy, the figure of the wearer, the appro-
priateness to the station he was supposed
to occupy, and even the color-composition
of the scenes in which he took part. The
performance was consequently a spectacle of
the highest order. During the last month of
preparation Mr. Millet was present at many
of the rehearsals, and was indefatigable in
his efforts to make each man appreciate the
character and capabilities of his costume.
In an excellent account of the costumes of
the play* he gives great credit to the actors.
“The experience of the Harvard students
proved how easy it is to master the use of
this apparently complicated and troublesome
article of attire,” – the outer robe or iuátiov.
“ After a few trials the students, or most of
* The “Century Magazine,” November, 1881.


The Preparation of the Play.
53
them at least, made up their minds which
throw they preferred, and the variety was
left to their choice. Many of them, after a
very little practice, wore their costumes with
ease and satisfaction, and learned to arrange
them without assistance. From the first it
was decided to be an exceedingly comforta-
ble dress, and much less troublesome than
had been supposed.” Every man who took
part knows that whatever skill in this respect
he acquired was owing to Mr. Millet's taste
and inexhaustible good-nature.
To commit to memory three hundred
Greek verses and a complicated musical
accompaniment was a difficult task, yet it
was accomplished by every member of the
Chorus. The musical rehearsals were in part
conducted by Mr. G. A. Burdett, a gentleman
who subsequently graduated with the highest
honors in music, and who rendered valuable
assistance to Professor Paine in the labors
of preparation.

54
The Preparation of the Play.
From time to time, as new scenes were
mastered, a small company would be gath-
ered at the house of one of the gentlemen
connected with the University, and the play
so far as learned would be rehearsed. These
entertainments were excellent breaks between
the strict privacy of the regular rehearsals
and the publicity of the performances, and
are among the most pleasant memories of
the time.
The first partial rehearsals were held
toward the end of October, 1880; for five
months they occurred three or four times a
week; for the six weeks preceding the per-
formances there was a rehearsal every day.
At last the time came when an authoritative
public announcement of the undertaking was
necessary; previous to this the newspapers
had contained only vague and often extrava-
gant statements. The committee therefore
issued a circular * which was published in the

a
* Appendix 1.

The Preparation of the Play.
55
tickets
leading newspapers and forwarded to those
whose support might be expected. The an-
swers exceeded the highest expectations of
all concerned; from all over the country
came letters of inquiry and congratulation.
Eighteen hours before the time appointed
for the opening of the sale a line of men
representing people who desired to buy tick-
ets for their own use, or to speculate in
them, was formed in front of the University
Bookstore in Cambridge. Every ticket was
taken in half an hour after the sale began.
A similar spectacle was witnessed on each
occasion when additional performances were
announced. Tickets were afterwards pur-
chased of speculators for five, ten, and fif-
teen dollars. On the day before the last
performance, when it was distinctly under-
stood that the play would not be repeated
under any circumstances, the proprietor of
the largest ticket-agency in Boston tele-
graphed to Cambridge offering twenty dol-


56
The Preparation of the Play.
lars apiece for as many tickets as could be
obtained. In a few instances prices much
higher than this are known to have been
paid.
The following item, with the editorial com-
ment, from the “Harvard Daily Echo" of
May 14, 1881, needs no explanation :
»
-
“Prof. J. W. White will be glad to see all mem-
bers of the University who are not provided with
tickets to any performance of the Greek Play, on
Saturday, at 10 A.M., in Sever 37, when he will fur-
nish them with tickets to the dress rehearsal. No
tickets will be sold for the rehearsal.”

"The managers of the Greek Play have shown that
it is their intention to give every student an opportu-
nity of witnessing at least one performance, and they
have thus silenced the only objection that has been
made to their management.”
The interest of the public was now thor-
oughly aroused, and the anxieties and hopes
of the few were shared by the many. The

PLATE VII.
t cea

The Preparation of the Play.
57
following extract from the “Boston Daily
Advertiser may serve as an example of
the notices that appeared constantly:
“ The Greek Play to be produced next Tuesday
evening creates the greatest excitement in Harvard
circles. . . . Requests for extra performances have
been received from all parts of the State, and liberal
offers have come from New York for the play to be
given there. Tuesday night will decide its success,
and whether these offers can be accepted. The labor
of production has been gigantic, and in every way
deserving of a brilliant return."
The long period of preparation closed with
the dress rehearsal. This occurred on Satur-
day evening, May 14th, and was in all re-
spects similar to the regular performances,
except that no tickets were sold, and that the
representatives of the press were admitted on
the condition that it should not be reported.
As the dress rehearsal was private, no account
of it will be given. The following extracts

58
The Preparation of the Play.
from newspapers representing different sec-
tions of the country will show the interest
with which it was watched, and the general
verdict.
From the “Boston Daily Advertiser":

-
“A full-dress private rehearsal of the Oedipus
Tyrannus' took place at Sanders Theatre last night,
in presence of a large number of invited guests,
among whom were to be seen almost all the noted
celebrities, literary, artistic, and scientific, known to
Boston and its vicinity. The rehearsal went with a
degree of smoothness that gave promise of a rare
degree
of excellence in the performance to take place
on Tuesday evening. The effect of the costumes was
extremely brilliant; the acting was unexpectedly vig-
orous and able; and Mr. Paine's music excited equal
admiration and pleasure in its listeners. The general
expression of opinion was of astonishment and grati-
fication at the fine results attained in every essential.
The whole affair, from its inception to the culmi-
nation, as seen last night, reflects the greatest credit
on the taste, the judgment, and the ability of all
concerned.”


The Preparation of the Play.
59
From the Boston “Evening Transcript":
-
6
-
Although respect for the wish expressed by those
engaged in the production of the Greek Play at Har-
vard forbids us to describe or comment upon the
dress rehearsal' of Saturday evening, we may at
least be permitted to communicate the pleasing re-
sult of that performance, — the removal of the last
doubt of a complete and memorable success. ...
Harvard again proves herself nobly representative
of her time and country in making this most remark-
able effort for art and for the drama. The labors
of those who participated in the performance must
have been as severe as they have been protracted,
and the danger of possible failure must have made it
a grave matter for all concerned in the University
not immediately enlisted in the work. But the
reward is now certain to equal the pains and the
risk, and the whole will be a delightful and honor-
able thing to remember and recount among the
glories of Harvard University.”


From the “ New York Sun":-
-
“The end seems to have been attained as nearly
as was possible. . . . It is difficult to see how the
.
60
The Preparation of the Play.
It is a great
play could have been better rendered.
honor to Harvard to have been the pioneer college
in this country to achieve so arduous a work.”
From the “ Louisville (Kentucky) Post”:--

“The first full-dress rehearsal by the students of
Harvard College of the Oedipus Tyrannus, in
'
Sanders Theatre, Cambridge, Mass., on Saturday
evening last, proved beyond reasonable doubt that
the performance will be a success. The audience
completely filled the theatre, and was very enthusi-
astic as well as critical, composed, as it was, of those
who, from actual connection with the production, or
from sympathy with the effort, are most interested
and capable of passing judgment.”

After the dress rehearsal there was a pause
before the decisive effort. Each man spent
it in adding strength at the points where he
felt himself to be weak. The difficulties that
had been seen had been fairly faced, and
everybody had aimed high. Le génie n'est
que l'attention suivie : the texvikóv had been

The Preparation of the Play.
61
faithfully followed ; was there no reason to
hope that it would be transfigured into Ociov
when the crowning moment came
?

V.

T
HE audience gathered in the San-
ders Theatre on Tuesday even-
ing, May 15, 1881, was in many
ways a remarkable one. As was said, it has
probably never been equalled in America
for literary distinction. The familiar faces
of most of those who represent American
letters to-day were to be seen in all direc-
tions. Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, Cur-
tis, Howells, were there; of somewhat less
distinguished men it would be easier to
name those who were absent. College
presidents and professors from all parts of
the country, several eminent magistrates,
the editors of many of the leading jour-
nals, all the instructors at Harvard, — no
-

The Performance.
63
and
branch of learning was without its distin-
guished representatives. Owing to the pres-
ence of ladies in large numbers the appear-
ance of the audience was as brilliant as its
reputation.
In respect to its state of mind, also, the
audience was remarkable. Many persons
had come with doubt as to the feasibility,
or even the propriety, of the undertaking ;
others thought it an excellent thing for
young men to do, but were prepared to be
thoroughly wearied; others again had come
ready to mourn the absence of the classic
glories, and to dislike what they felt sure
must be a pretentious amateur performance.
Those who were best pleased that the voice
of the old Athenian days was to be heard
again, were naturally solicitous lest some
youthful extravagance or unforeseen hitch
should mar the effect of the whole. From
the person who sat in blankest ignorance
of what was coming, to the one who had
64
The Performance.
hor
space
formed all his opinions beforehand, every
state of mind was represented. One who
carefully observed the thousand faces could
see that a doubtful and curious expectancy
was hidden beneath the universal smile.
The seats on the floor of the theatre had
been removed to make place for the Ovueln
and the Chorus. Outside the low barrier
which surrounded this open space sat an
orchestra of forty performers and a supple-
mentary chorus of sixty voices. A volume
containing the text of Professor White's
edition of the Oedipus and Professor Lewis
Campbell's translation, on opposite pages,
had been published by the committee. The
programme (of which a reduced fac-simile
is given in Appendix 2) was an interesting
production, bearing the Harvard seal, and
printed in Greek with the exception of a
few lines of request to the audience pre-
ceded by the amusing statement, ueteppáo on
ένια χάριν των μη ελληνιζόντων. The doors


The Performance.
65
were closed five minutes before the com-
mencement of the performance.
The scene behind the long and narrow
stage is the palace of Oedipus, king of /set
,
Thebes, - a stately building with its frieze
and columns. There is a large central door
with two broad steps, and two smaller side
doors; all three are closed. In the centre of
the stage in front is a large altar; beside
each of the smaller doors of the palace is
another altar. A flight of steps leads from
the stage at each side. The sound of the
closing doors has warned the audience that
the long-expected moment is at hand, and
an immediate silence ensues. Under these
circumstances the first notes of the orches-
tra come with great effect and the entire
prelude is unusually impressive. As it
closes, the spectators are sympathetic and
expectant.
Slowly the crimson curtains on the right-
hand side below the stage are drawn apart,
curtains
66
The Performance.
and the Priest of Zeus enters, leaning on a
staff, a venerable and striking figure. In
Plate VI. the beauty of his drapery is seen.
Behind him come two little children. They
are dressed in soft white tunics and cloaks,
their hair is bound with white fillets, and
they carry in their hands olive branches
twined with wool,
έλαίας θ' ύψιγέννητον κλάδον,
λήνει μεγίστω σωφρόνως εστεμμένον.
This shows that they come as suppliants.
Behind the children come boys, then youths,
and then old men. All are dressed in white
and carry suppliant boughs; in the costumes
of the men, the delicate fabric of the un-
dergarment, the xıráv, contrasts beautifully
with the heavy folds of the inátlov. With
grave attentive faces the procession crosses
the front of the stage, and mounts the steps;
the suppliants lay down their branches and
seat themselves on the steps of the altars.
The priest alone remains standing, facing the
palace door.

cost.


The Performance.
67
The first impression upon the spectators
was fortunate. The innocent looks of the
children, the handsome figures of the men,
the simplicity and solemnity of their move-
ments, set off as they were by the fine
drapery of their garments and the striking
groups around the altars, had an instant and
deep effect. It is safe to say that fears of
crudeness or failure began rapidly to vanish.
The spectacle presented at this moment was
one of the most impressive of the play; it
is well shown in Plate VIII., although the
groups are only partially visible.
After a short pause the great doors of the <
palace are thrown back, and the attendants
of Oedipus enter and take up their positions
on each side. They wear thin lavender cost
tunics reaching nearly to the knee. Their
looks are directed to the interior of the pal-
ace, whence, in a moment, Oedipus enters.
His royal robes gleam now with the purple
of silk and now with the red of gold; gold
a



68
The Performance.
embroidery glitters on his crimson tunic and
on his white sandals ; his crown gives him
dignity and height
For an instant he surveys the suppliants,
and then addresses them. Mr. Riddle's voice
is soft and musical, and the words come full
and solemn :
*Ω τέκνα, Κάδμου του πάλαι νέα τροφή.
The spectators have heard the first Greek
words. Descending the steps as he speaks,
Oedipus asks the reason of the presence of
this kneeling suppliant throng. So great is
his interest, he says, in the city and its sons,
that he was unwilling to learn by messengers,
but has come himself, “great Oedipus, of uni-
versal fame”: let this aged priest answer for
them all. The old man tells the sad story
of the plague. The city is again in desper-
ate plight; Oedipus baffled the bloodthirsty
Sphinx, can he not prove himself a double
saviour ?

The Performance.
69
Thou, then, come,
Noblest of mortals, give our city rest
From trouble." *
This is not new to Oedipus; indeed, as
ruler, he has borne a triple grief. Many
plans for relief have been already tried ; lat-
est and best, he has sent Creon, the brother
of his queen, to the oracle at Delphi to learn
in what way the city may be saved ; and it
is already more than time for him to return.
While Oedipus is speaking, the children on
the left of the stage have descried some one
approaching, and one of them has pointed
him out to the priest. It is Creon, who enters
,
with rapid strides, wearing a wreath of bay
leaves sparkling with berries, the symbol of a
favorable answer. He is dressed in the short
salmon-colored tunic and crimson cloak, with
hat and staff. A hasty greeting follows; and
Oedipus, the priest, and the suppliants wait
for the answer of the oracle. Creon judges
* The quotations, with few exceptions, are from Professor
Lewis Campbell's translation of the Oedipus.
Cost, Creon
W
70
.
The Performance.
it best not to speak out before so many
people.
“My message is, that even our woes,
Borne right unto their issue, shall be well.”
This is the moment represented in Plate
VIII.
The eagerness of Oedipus brooks no such
ambiguity, so Creon speaks clearly. The
oracle has declared that the plague will cease
when those who murdered Laius, and are
still dwelling in the land, shall have been
punished by banishment or death. Oedipus
then questions Creon concerning the particu-
lars of the death of Laius, and is informed
that he started on his journey to Delphi and
never returned ; that an attendant arrived
and reported that the rest of the party had
been slain by a band of robbers. But why,
asks the king, did you not pursue and pun-
ish the wretches? Creon pauses and glances
round the theatre, and in the hush which fol-
lows he approaches Oedipus and utters the


PLATE VIII.
ANA.
و جو

The Performance.
71
--
"Good !” says
66
word which recalls at once the suffering of
the city and the services of him addressed :
Ý Tolkıqdòs Epiyš, — “the riddle-singing
Sphinx,” — and the harsh word echoes
through the silent theatre.
Oedipus, his pride gratified and his ambi-
tion roused; "then I will find them out.”
With the assurance of speedy aid he leads
Creon into the palace, and the attendants
follow and close the doors.
Slowly the
white-robed suppliants rise; the petition
being granted, each one takes his bough,
and led by the priest they descend the steps
and disappear.
As the last figure passes out of sight the
notes of the orchestra are heard once more,
this time with a measured beat which in-
stantly attracts attention, and the Chorus of
old men of Thebes issues from the same
entrance. They are men of various ages,
dressed in tunics reaching to the instep and
full épátia, of harmonious soft warm colors.


cost,
chor
72
The Performance.
The excellence of the costumes was marked ;
each man seemed to have worn his dress for
years, and to exhibit his individuality in the
folds of it. They enter three deep, march-
ing to the solemn beat of the music; and
as the first rank comes in sight of the audi-
ence the strains of the choral ode burst from
their lips.

.
. 63
AL
Shoulder to shoulder and foot to foot the
old men make their way to the altar on the
floor of the theatre and take up their posi-
tions around it.* This entrance of the Cho-
rus was surpassed in dramatic effect by few
features of the play: the rhythmical move-

* In Plate IX. the general appearance of the Chorus is well
shown, although the effect of the picturesque grouping is lost,
it being necessary to crowd the men together in order to bring
so many faces within the focus of one lens. A certain peculiar
expression is accounted for by the fact that a very brilliant
electric light was suspended in front of them. The Cory-
phaeus is the tallest figure of the group.

The Performance.
73
ments, the coloring and drapery, the dignity
of the faces, the impressive music sung in
unison by the fifteen trained voices, — all
these combined to produce a startling effect
on the audience.
The chorus represents the citizens sum-
moned by Oedipus to hear of his determina-
tion to investigate the murder of Laius. They
are singing in appeal to Apollo and Athena,
praying that this day may see the end of the
woes of Thebes.
“Kind voice of Heaven, soft-breathing from the height
Of Pytho * rich in gold to Thebè bright,
What wilt thou bring to-day ?
Ah, Delian Paean, say !
My heart hangs on thy word with trembling awe :
What new-given law,
Or what returning in Time's circling round
Wilt thou unfold ? Tell us, immortal sound,
Daughter of golden Hope, we pray, we pray !”
r!
“And swiftly speed afar,
Wind-borne on backward car,
This shieldless war-god † with loud onset sweeping,
* Delphi.
+ The plague, - "the unarmed Mars."
74
The Performance.
To oarless Thracian tide,
Or ocean chambers wide,
Where Amphitritè lone her couch is keeping.
Day ruins what night spares ; 0 thou whose hand
Wields lightning, blast him with thy thundering brand.”
>
2
choruses?
The strophes in this ode are sung by the
dramatic chorus only, the antistrophes by
the dramatic chorus and the supplementary
chorus together.
As the music ceases, Oedipus enters. He
reiterates his determination to secure and
punish the murderer of his predecessor. If
any one knows aught, let him speak out;
Oedipus calls down curses on the heads of
those who, knowing of the matter, are silent,
and bitterly curses the murderer himself.

“Let his crushed life
Wither forlorn in hopeless misery.
And I pray Heaven, should he or they be housed
With mine own knowledge in my home, that I
May suffer what I imprecate on them.”
The days of dark oracles and strange ad-
ventures are indeed forgotten, and Oedipus

PLATE IX.

The Performance.
75
thinks of himself only as the worshipped ruler
of a mighty city. All these woes, as a Greek
audience knew well, Oedipus was calling
down upon himself. They would perceive
with awe the first suggestions of the fulfil-
ment of fate.
By the advice of Creon, Oedipus has sum-
moned a famous seer, the blind Teiresias, a
man who holds direct communion with the
Gods. At this moment Teiresias enters, a
towering, venerable figure, with long white
hair and beard. He is guided to the stage
by a boy, whose blue cloak contrasts with
the snowy draperies of the old man. Plate
IV. is an excellent portrait.
To him
“whose universal thought controls
All knowledge and all mystery, in heaven
And on the earth beneath,”
Oedipus reverently appeals. In Teiresias lies
the only hope of the city: it is a privilege
to use the power one has for good.

76
Che Performance.
“ Thou, then,
Withhold not any word of augury
Or other divination that thou knowest,
But rescue Thebè, and thyself, and me,
And purge this dire pollution of the dead.”
Plate X. represents the scene at this mo-
ment.
The first words of Teiresias, in Mr. Guild's
deep voice, take the spectators by surprise.
peū, peu, — “Ah me! ah me!”
66
-

“ Terrible is knowledge to the man
Whom knowledge profits not. This well I knew,
But had forgotten. Else had I ne'er come hither.”
He knows all the truth and foresees the
horror which would follow his words. He
begs to be sent home again, and counsels
Oedipus to seek no farther.
The king
is bitterly disappointed, and his ever-ready
He has implored, he now
threatens ; Teiresias declares that nothing
shall induce him to speak. This is one of
the grand scenes of the play: two powerful
anger rises.

PLATE X
ses
چه دار

The Performance.
77
natures are in conflict; the spectators are
greatly moved by the contrast between the
passion of the king and the determination
of the seer.
Which will conquer ? It is the
fate of Oedipus to bring down woes upon his
head, and now he declares that he sees in
Teiresias the abettor of the murder.
“ If thou hadst eyes,
Sole murderer had I declared thee too."
This is more than the old man can bear ;
that he, the favored of the Gods, a prince
and priest, should be thus reviled by the
sinner whom he is trying to shield, makes
further silence impossible.

“Is 't possible? I charge thee to abide
By that thou hast proclaimed; and from this hour
Speak not to any Theban or to me.
Thou art the foul polluter of this land."
Roused by the intensity of his own utter-
ance, the old man goes on to declare that
the other things prophesied by the oracle
78
The Performance.
his anger,
have come true, and that all men will soon
reproach the sinner.
Fearful words are
these : the attendants start forward, and the
frightened Chorus gather near the stage. It
would seem that so terrible and direct an
accusation would instantly remind the king
of the prophecy at Delphi and the event
which followed. But Oedipus is blinded by
and pays no heed to what seem
lying words.
So the blind man sees, and
the man whose outer sight is clear is lost in
the blindness of his soul. Oedipus recalls at
this moment the fact that it was by Creon's
counsel that Teiresias was summoned : what
is clearer than that they are together plotting
against the throne ? So he denounces them
both, and threatens punishment; if Teiresias
were not an old man he should receive it
on the spot. Teiresias calls the boy to lead
him away, but before going he prophesies
the farther fate of Oedipus in a terrible
speech:-



The Performance.
79
“I tell thee this : the man whom thou so long
Seekest with threats and mandates for the murder
Of Laius, that very man is here,
By name an alien, but in season due
He shall be shown true Theban, and small joy
Shall have therein; for blind, instead of seeing,
And
poor, who once was rich, he shall go forth
Staff-guided, groping, o'er a foreign land
He shall be shown to be with his own children
Brother and sire in one, of her who bore him
Husband at once and offspring, of his father
Bedmate and murderer. Go ; take now these words
Within and weigh them ; if thou find me false,
Say then that divination taught me nothing.” *
The two men part in deadly anger, Oedipus
going within the palace and the boy leading
Teiresias down the steps. The scene was
admirably acted, and the significance of it is
vividly present to the audience ; for the first
time the performance is interrupted by pro-
longed applause.
Once more the music sounds, and the Cho-
rus gives voice to its feelings concerning the
strange scene which has just been enacted.

* Symonds's translation.

80
The Performance.
At first the music is weird, and expresses
horror and anxious doubt.
" Whom hath the mystic stone
Declared to have done
Horrors unnamable with blood-stained hand ?
With speed of storm-swift car
'Tis time he fled afar
With mighty footsteps hurrying from the land.
For, armed with lightning brand,
There leaps upon his track the son of Jove,
And close behind the unerring Destinies move."
Toward the close of the chorus the music
becomes expressive of hope, and the last
bars symbolize the confidence in Oedipus
which the words express.
“ Zeus and his son
Know surely all that o'er the world is done :
But that the seer
Hath wisdom clear,
Or more endowment than the crowd,
Was never yet with evidence allowed.
A man with wit
May pass the bound another man hath won ;
But never, till I see fulfilment fit,
Will I confirm the blame
They cast upon his name.

PLATE XI.

The Performance.
81
Wise he was found beneath the searching sun,
And kind to Thebè, when the Sphinx came forth
And sang. My heart shall never doubt his worth.”
cost
Creon
As the strains of music die away Creon is
seen hastily ascending the steps on the right.
He is no longer dressed as a traveller, but in
garments suited to his high rank. His tunic
is of delicate dark crimson material, with a
gold border ; his ipátlov is of bright crimson
cashmere, with a broader gold border; his
sandals are of crimson and gold. He strides
to the centre of the stage and bursts out in
indignant denial of the charges that Oedipus
has made against him.
While the Chorus, through its leader, is
endeavoring to moderate the indignation of
Creon, Oedipus enters from the palace. At
such a meeting a quarrel is inevitable. The
king does not hesitate to begin it:
-
“ Insolent, art thou here? Hadst thou the face
To bring thy boldness near my palace-roof,
Convicted of contriving 'gainst my life
And laying robber hands upon my state ?”
82
The Performance.
For some time Creon maintains the calm
of innocence, and asks but to be allowed to
speak in his own defence :
“First on this very point, hear me declare"
“I will not hear that thou art not a villain,"
is the contemptuous interruption of the king,
who nevertheless listens, though with mani-
fest impatience, to Creon's long and logical
defence. “How absurd,” argues Creon, “to
suspect me of trying to supplant you! I am
much better off as I am ; I have the privi-
leges and pleasures of royalty without its
cares. Go to Delphi and satisfy yourself
that I brought back the true answer. Thus
to cast off a faithful friend is worse than
folly."
The Chorus, too, advises the king that
“swift is not sure in thought.” But it is not
in the nature of Oedipus to listen to counsels
of moderation; resuming his extreme tone he
declares that Creon shall die. Creon is star-


Che Performance.
83
tled out of his forced calmness, and a sharp
altercation ensues. Just as this reaches its
height the doors of the palace are seen to
open, and the Chorus bids both angry speak-
ers cease, as Jocasta is approaching. The
attendants of Jocasta enter and place them-
selves on each side of the door, and a mo-
ment later the queen herself stands upon
the
threshold. Oedipus turns to her with wel-
come, and Creon with a gesture of appeal.*
costo intention
-
* Plate XI. shows the stage at this moment. In the article
to which reference has previously been made, Mr. Millet bases
the explanation of his scheme of costume upon this scene. He
says:
“It was part of the original scheme that in each group the
most prominent character should, as far as possible, be the
focus, not only of interest in the text, but from the point of
view of costume. Let us see how the first complex group ful-
filled this condition. On the stage left stood Oedipus, in rich
but deep-toned red; on the right, Creon, equally in red, but of
a color entirely different in scale; the attendants of the king,
in lavender tunics bordered with gold-embroidered white,
flanked the doorway; and the two attendants of Jocasta, in
delicate blue and salmon, brought the eye by a pleasing gradua-
tion in intensity of color and strength of tone up to the figure
of the queen, clothed in lustrous and ample drapery."
84
The Performance.
Joca
cost.
.
Her dress consists of a richly trimmed sil-
very undergarment, and an ipátiov of crimped
pale yellow silk. She wears a crown, brace-
lets, and necklace, and white sandals embroid-
ered with gold.
No man can hope to assume all the grace
of a female figure, nor can any costume make
a man look entirely like a woman. It must
be said, however, that the appearance of Mr.
Opdycke was charmingly feminine, and that
the grace of his movements was remarkable.
His assumption of a very difficult rôle was
such as fully to reward a long and faithful
study, and to justify the hearty praise with
which his acting was received.
The first words of Jocasta are a disap-
pointment to both the men who welcome
her appearance. She has heard their angry
voices, and has come to silence them :-

“ Unhappy that ye are, why have ye reared
Your wordy rancor ’mid the city's harms ?
Have you no shame, to stir up private broils

The Performance.
85
In such a time as this? Get thee within !
And thou, too, Creon! nor enlarge your griefs
To make a mountain out of nothingness.”
This speech of Jocasta is followed by a
kommos, that is, a passage in which the song
of the Chorus alternates with the spoken
words of the principal characters. The Cho-
rus appeals to Oedipus to spare Creon, who
has always shown himself wise, and has now
hallowed by an oath his denial of the charges.
At the prayer of his people Oedipus yields :
Creon may go, but hatred shall follow him.
“Let me alone, then, and begone!”
66 I go,
Unchanged to these, though I have found thee blind."
And with a gesture of reproach Creon turns
and leaves the stage.
Jocasta now demands the cause of the
quarrel, and is informed by the king that
Creon and a knavish soothsayer have accused
him of the murder of Laius. Such fears,
Jocasta says, are soon quieted; “no mortal
86
The Performance.
thing is touched by prophecy.” Did not the
oracle declare that Laius should perish by
the hands of his own son? Yet he was slain
by robbers at a place where three
ways
meet, and the child perished in the wilds of
Cithaeron.

“So Loxias neither brought upon the boy
His father's murder, nor on Laius
The thing he greatly feared, death by his son.
Such issues come of prophesying words,
Therefore regard them not.”
One of the expressions of Jocasta has roused
strange memories in the king. “Where three
ways met,” that was where he slew the tray-
eller. “Where was this place ?” he asks. “It
was in Phocis, and the roads lead to Daulia
and to Delphi.” “How long ago ?” “Just
before you appeared, to save the state.”
“Yes; tell me how Laius looked.” “He was
tall, with gray hair; in figure much like you."
· Yes, yes. Tell me one thing more. Was
he alone, or attended ?” “There were five

The Performance.
87

in all, one a herald, and Laius rode in the
chariot."
“Woe! woe! 'T is clear as daylight."
From the excited questions of Oedipus and
the careful replies of Jocasta, anxious only to
dispel all fears, one thing is proved: Oedipus
is the murderer of Laius. A single slender
hope remains; the attendant who escaped
reported that Laius had been slain by “rob-
bers.” Should he still assert this, Oedipus is
saved from the guilt of being the polluter of
the state.

“One man and many cannot be the same."
Jocasta knows nothing of the youth of
Oedipus, of his journey to Delphi, and of his
adventure in the cross-roads; she is therefore
at a loss to understand his fears. So Oedipus
tells the whole story as it has already been
described. It is a long, passionate speech,
and Mr. Riddle's rendering is clear and pow-
erful. The climax is reached when Oedipus,
88
The Performance.
a
in a voice at once triumphant and remorseful,
shouts, “I slew them every one.” Instantly
his demeanor changes, all the triumph drops
from his tone, and he cries piteously, —
“Now if there be
Aught of connection or relationship
Between yon stranger and King Laius,
What wretch on earth was e'er so lost as I ?"

Jocasta again comforts him by showing
that should the attendant now assert that the
party was attacked by one man, still the
oracle would be proved false, as it had de-
clared that her son should kill Laius, and
the babe had perished long before. Oedipus
catches at the crumb of comfort, and they go
within.
The choral ode which follows is one of
great beauty. It begins with a prayer for
purity of life, and reverence of thought and
speech.

The Performance.
89
“Deep in my life, by Fate impressed,
Let holiness of word and action rest,
And sinless thought, by those Eternal Laws
Controlld, whose being Heaven alone did cause."
The second strophe is a protest against
impiety, suggested by the impious words of
Jocasta.
“ Who walks disdainfully with hand or tongue,
Not fearing acts of wrong,
Nor reverencing each temple's holy shrine ?
A horrid fate be thine,
For thine abandoned greed,
Who seekest gain beyond thy rightful meed,
Nor sparest things divine,
And in thy madness touchest things accurst.
Who, when such crimes have burst,
Can look for shelter from the wrathful shower ?
If such a spirit be in power,
And gilded with preferment still advance,
What means my service in the sacred dance ?”

As the chorus closes, Jocasta enters in
a new state of mind. She has comforted
Oedipus by ridiculing all oracles; but she
is not without faith in the power of the
Gods, and she brings frankincense and gar-

90
The Performance.
a
lands, and lays them with a prayer upon
the altar.
While she is speaking, an old man has
entered on the left below the stage. He is
dressed as a common traveller, in a tunic and
short cloak, his hat slung over his shoul-
der, and a stout staff in his hand. It is the
messenger from Corinth. He looks round as
if in search of something, and as soon as the
queen has finished her prayer he inquires of
the Chorus where the home of Oedipus, or,
better still, the king himself, can be found.
He is promptly informed that the mansion
he sees is the palace of Oedipus, and that
the lady before it is the queen. With a pro-
found salutation as he ascends to the stage,
he declares himself to be the bearer of news
at once good and bad. Old Polybus, king of
Corinth, is dead, and the citizens are about
to make Oedipus king. This is indeed
news to Jocasta. Oedipus has long avoided
Corinth lest he should slay his father, Poly-


The Performance.
91
bus; now he can return, as king, all fear
dispelled.

“Voices of prophecy! where are ye now ?”
Oedipus enters in response to her sum-
mons. His royal robes have been exchanged
for simpler ones of white and gold. He, too,
learns the news with triumph.

“Ah! my Jocasta, who again will heed
The Pythian hearth oracular, and birds
Screaming in air, blind guides ! ” '
One dark thought, however, cuts his exul-
tation short. He need no longer fear to be
his father's murderer, but there is a second
horror in his fate; his mother, Merope, still
lives at Corinth, and while she lives he dares
not return. The messenger, rejoicing in the
good news he brings, and hoping for propor-
tionate reward, makes bold to ask the reason
of these fears. On learning it, a smile full
of meaning crosses his face. Is this the only


92
The Performance.
thing that the king dreads? Then let him
put it aside,
“ Because with Polybus thou hadst no kin.”
“Why? Was not be the author of my life ?”
6 As much as I am, and no more than I.”
“How can my father be no more to me
Than who is nothing ?”
“In begetting thee
Nor I nor he had any part at all.”
The old man smiles broadly at his own
humorous way
of telling this good news. It
is not every one who is privileged to remove
a king's fears. And he proceeds to tell how
he gave Oedipus when a babe to King Poly-
bus, having received him from one of the
shepherds of Laius, who had found him in
the wilderness of Cithaeron. He tells of the
cruel thong, and alludes to the scar on the
king's ankles.
But Jocasta? At the other end of the
stage the queen is writhing in anguish. The
deep-red cloak which she wears is twisted

The Performance.
93
about her; now she flings her hands up and
seems about to speak, then her hands are
pressed on her mouth to stop the cries
which rise, or on her bosom to silence the
beating of her heart. She rushes toward
the king, but stops half-way; her face
shows the tortures of her soul. The truth is
all too clear to her. The spectator feels that
this suspense cannot last, and relief comes
when the Chorus suggests that perhaps Jo-
casta can tell something about the shepherd
of Laius. When appealed to by Oedipus, she
· forces the suffering from her face and turns
with a smile.
a
“What matter who? Regard not, nor desire
Even vainly to remember aught he saith.”
But Oedipus has gone beyond recall. Her
last appealing words are scorned, and with
the language and the gesture of despair she
rushes from the stage.
“ O horrible! O lost one! This alone
I speak to thee, and no word more for ever."
94
The Performance.
The Chorus expresses the feelings of the
startled spectators:
Oedipus, wherefore is Jocasta gone,
Driven madly by wild grief? I needs must fear
Lest from this silence she make sorrows spring."

“Let her! Yet I will choose to know my birth.”
In the song which follows, the Chorus
indulges in fanciful speculations concerning
the parentage of Oedipus. The tenor solo
in the antistrophe was sung by Mr. George
L. Osgood.
As the music ceases the attendants of Oedi-
pus appear at the entrance on the right, sup-
porting a strange figure between them. It is
an aged man, with grizzled hair and beard,
clothed in coarse homespun cloth, and with
a rough, untanned sheepskin over his shoul-
ders. He supports himself on a sapling staff
which he has cut in the woods. He mounts
the steps with difficulty, and faces the king.
He is no stranger to the errand on which he

PLATE XII
El
I
mo
しかし​た
​
The Performance.
95
has been brought, and with the greatest dif-
ficulty he is made to speak. The contrast
between the eagerness of the messenger from
Corinth to tell all he knows, and the silence
of the tender-hearted old shepherd is very
striking. The shepherd cannot bear the oth-
er's telltale chatter, and with the words, “Con-
fusion seize thee and thine evil tongue!” he
swings his staff to strike him. The scene
at this moment is shown in Plate XII. At
a gesture from Oedipus the attendant stops
the blow. The old man must be made to
speak.

“Thou wilt not speak to please us, but the lash
Will make thee speak.'
“By all that's merciful,
Scourge not this aged frame!”
“ Pinion him straight !”
And the muscular attendants spring forward
and seize him. Then the truth is
him, word by word. He gave the child to
the Corinthian; it came from the palace ;
wrung from

96
The Performance.
they said it was the son of Laius ; Queen
Jocasta herself placed it in his hands; they
said that an oracle had declared that it
should kill its father.

“What then possessed thee to give up the child
To this old man?"
“Pity, my sovereign lord !
Supposing he would take him far away
Unto the land whence he was come. But he
Preserved him to great sorrow.
For if thou
Art whom he gives thee out, be well assured
Thou bear'st a heavy doom.”
-
The portrait Plate V. -- represents the
shepherd at this moment.
The truth is out; the oracles are not falsi-
fied ; his father's murderer, his mother's hus-
band, Oedipus faces his doom. With a fear-
ful, choking cry he pulls his robes over his
head and face, and bursts into the palace.
“Woe! woe! woe! woe! All cometh clear at last."
How great the irony of fate! As Jocasta,
in her attempts at comfort, suggested the

PLATE XIII.
Qo.


The Performance.
97
place where three ways meet,” so the Cor-
inthian messenger, in filling, as he thinks, the
measure of the king's joy, utters the words
which damn.
“So from that spring whence comfort seemed to come,
Discomfort swells.",*
And how superbly Sophocles has pictured it!
The passionate and haughty king, flinging
his imprecations in heedless wrath, is over-
whelmed by their recoil.
“By most righteous doom,
Who drugged the cup with curses to the brim,
Himself hath drunk damnation to the dregs."
-
-
was
This scene — shown in Plate XIII.
-
the dramatic climax of the play. The acting
led up to it gradually by the excited con-
versation and the shepherd's blow. When
Oedipus burst through the doors of the palace,
his attendants quickly followed him; the hor-
ror-stricken messengers turned with despair-

* Macbeth : quoted by Campbell.

98
The Performance.
ing gestures and descended the steps, the
one to the right, the other to the left, and a
profound silence fell upon the theatre.
In the opening strains of the last choral
ode, which now ring out, the emotions of
the scene are wonderfully expressed. Each
one recognizes the solemnity and depth of
his own feelings in their pathetic tones.

pp
P
16
-
The theme is one which Solon made famous,
- until death no man's life can safely be
called happy
“O tribes of living men,
How nothing-worth I count you while ye stand !
For who of all the train
Draws more of happiness into his hand
Than to seem bright, and seeming, fade in gloom ?”
As the ode closes, the palace doors are
opened violently from within, and the sec-
ond messenger rushes on the stage. He is
a servant from the palace, clad, like the at-

The Performance.
99
-
tendants, in a short light tunic. He brings
a tale of horror: Oedipus, on entering, had
called for a sword, and demanded to know
where Jocasta was. No one would tell him ;
but at last, seeing the doors of the bedcham-
ber shut, he had broken through them and
disclosed the body of the queen hanging
by the bed. Tearing down the body, he
had snatched from the shoulders the golden
clasps and had thrust them into his eyes,
saying,
“Henceforth they should not see the evil
Suffered or done by him in the past time,
But evermore in darkness now should scan
The features he ought never to have seen.”
In a moment Oedipus himself appears, lean-
ing on his attendants, his pale face marred
by bloody stains. The dismayed Chorus
hide their faces in their robes, and the king's
voice is broken with sobs as he cries, aiai,
αιαι, δύστανος εγώ. The lament of Oedipus
is given by Mr. Riddle with great power ;
the ringing Greek syllables grow more and
100
The Performance.
more impressive, and the haggard, blood-
stained face grows more terrible.
γώ σκότου
νέφος εμόν απότροπον, έπιπλόμενον άφατον,
αδάματόν τε κι δυσούριστον όν.
«Ο cloud of dark, on me
Sent loweringly !
Hideous, unutterable,
Invincible !
Too surely wafted on."
>

In the ensuing dialogue between Oedipus
and the Chorus, the king pictures all the ill
he has done and suffered; father, mother,
children, the three ways, Cithaeron, Thebes,
the oracles, — he spares himself no bitter
memory. The closing passage of his long
lament is perhaps the most fearful thing in
any literature.
και γάμοι γάμοι,
έφύσαθ' ημάς, και φυτεύσαντες πάλιν
ανείτε ταυτόν σπέρμα, κάπεδείξατε
πατέρας, αδελφούς, παϊδας, αιμ' έμφύλιον,
νύμφας, γυναίκας, μητέρας τε, χώπόσα
αίσχιστ’ εν ανθρώποισιν έργα γίγνεται.
>>60)

PLATE XIV.

3294

The Performance.
101
As Oedipus is begging to be slain or
thrust out of the land, the approach of Creon,
who has resumed his royal powers, is an-
nounced. The memory of all his injustice to
Creon overwhelms Oedipus, and he cannot
bear to meet him. But he is blind and un-
able to flee, so he hides his face and waits in
silence. Creon enters, crowned, followed by
.
two attendants. (See Plate XIV.) His first
words are reassuring; the new king does
not come with mocking or reproach, but
directs that a sight so offensive to earth and
heaven be hidden within the palace. Oedi-
pus asks the boon of banishment, but is
informed by the cautious Creon that the God
must be consulted. Then the blind man
begs that his wife be buried decently, and
reiterates his prayer that he may be per-
mitted to leave the city which he has af-
flicted. And one thing more he asks,
that he may embrace his daughters again.
By a sign Creon despatches his own at-
-

102
The Performance.
tendants to bring them, and while Oedipus
is still speaking their voices are heard.
Antigone and Ismene now enter, led by
the attendants of Creon, and are placed in
the arms of Oedipus, who falls on his knees
beside them, and addresses them with saddest
words. The children are too young to appre-
ciate the horror of the scene, but they are
filled with pity for their father's pain. There
is a look of genuine sympathy on the two
bright faces which watch the kneeling figure.
Creon has retired to the right of the stage
and has wrapped his robe round him, unable
to bear the sight of the terrible farewell. He
is summoned by Oedipus to give his hand
in token of his promise to care for the help-
less girls. The children fall back, the blind
man waits with outstretched hand, and Creon
slowly and sadly walks across the stage and
gives the sign. Then Oedipus turns again to
his little ones. The painful scene, however,
has lasted long enough, and Creon orders

PLATE XV.
دن

شری و

The Performance.
103
Oedipus to leave his children and withdraw.
It is a dreadful separation, but the king's
order is imperative. So Oedipus tears him-
self away, his attendants throw open the
doors, the attendants of Creon take the chil-
dren by the hand, and Creon himself leads
Oedipus up the steps and into the palace.
(Plate XV.) The children and the second
messenger follow; the attendants of Oedipus
enter last and gently close the doors.
The music sounds again in pathetic tones,
and the Coryphaeus expresses for his fellows
the lesson of life.
“ Ye men of Thebes, behold this Oedipus,
Who knew the famous riddle and was noblest,
Whose fortune who saw not with envious glances ?
And, lo! in what a sea of direst trouble
He now is plunged. From hence the lesson learn ye,
To reckon no man happy till ye witness
The closing day ; until he pass the border
Which severs life from death, unscathed by sorrow." *
With bowed heads the old men of Thebes
retire to the city, and the play is over. There
"
* Plumptre's translation.

104
The Performance.
is a moment's silence, and then the theatre
rings with applause. It seems inappropriate,
however, and ceases almost as suddenly as it
began. The play has left such a solemn im-
pression that the usual customs seem unfit-
ting, and the audience disperses quietly.
A few minutes later the theatre is in dark-
ness, and the actors go home not wholly cer-
,
tain of the result of their long task.
The newspapers of the following morning
set all doubts at rest, and showed the fulfil-
ment of all hopes.

From the “Boston Daily Advertiser.”
In all simplicity and sincerity we say there can
be no doubt that the performance was remarkably
successful, and afforded great and peculiar pleasure
to a critical audience. . Here everything conspired
in a wonderful way, the drama itself having such
imaginative vividness, and every detail of representa-
tion being carried out with dignity, absolute precis-
ion and accuracy, and with a wonderful smoothness,
a
a

The Performance.
105
resulting from most careful preparation under most
competent and learned instructors. From the mo-
ment when, near the close of the instrumental intro-
duction, the company of suppliants made their slow
entrance from the right, and passing through the
orchestra to the left, mounted the stage and laid their
votive offerings on the altars before the palace, many
a spectator must have forgotten his country and cen-
tury, and have felt himself a Greek of the Greeks.
Quite aside, also, from the acting and music, the
great beauty of the correct costumes, and the fine
tableaux vivants made by the groups of players was
a feast to the eye and fancy throughout the evening.
The acting as a whole was remarkably and surpris-
ingly good. Most of the players were only amateurs,
and of course showed their want of professional
training; but there was extraordinarily little of im-
maturity in performance, both as to quality and
as to quantity, considering the circumstances of the
occasion.”
"
From the Boston “Evening Transcript":
* The production of the Oedipus Tyrannus of
Sophocles at Cambridge, last night, was as bril-
liant a success in every way as could have been

106
The Performance.
desired. Indeed, there was scarcely room for any
miscarriage, so carefully and thoroughly had every-
thing been prepared during the past six months.
With a clear conception as to what was to be done,
with practically unlimited means at command for its
execution, and with the resources of the University in
the way of young men of character and brain to draw
on for talent and self-sacrificing labor, and learned
scholars for counsel and training, this triumph was
almost assured in advance. It is on all hands pro-
nounced the most perfect and worthy reproduction
of Greek drama in modern times. The éclat of the
occasion, though not exceeding its merits, resounds
throughout the country. The leading journals have
been represented at the last rehearsal and first per-
formance by special correspondents, and their elabo-
rate accounts have been printed, accompanied by
editorial comments, showing that the unique interest
and importance of the event have been fully appre-
ciated beyond the circle of the community of Boston
and Cambridge."
From the "Boston Journal.”

“The first public performance of the Oedipus
Tyrannus of Sophocles, at Sanders Theatre, Cam-

The Performance.
107
bridge, last evening, was also the first performance of
this play in its original language in recent times, and
the first presentation of a Greek drama in this coun-
try. The event was therefore interesting for its
novelty, as well as for its dramatic and scholastic
importance. Its success was pronounced and instant ;
and indeed it may be doubted if a Greek play has
ever been so thoroughly well presented since the
times and audiences for which it was originally
written. ... The production was a perfect one in
every detail, being throughout consistent, dignified,
strong, and fully accordant in earnest spirit with
all we have heretofore conceived of the realities
of the Greek stage. ... It is an increasing matter of
marvel to all who will consider it, that this play has
ever been produced, even with the great resources at
the command of Harvard College.”
.
From the Boston “ Evening Traveller”:
:
-
“The performance of the Oedipus, last night, at
Cambridge, brought delight to an immense and criti-
cal audience, and was a surprise, as we are disposed
to think, even to those who expected most. A dis-
tinguished scholar was heard to say to a friend, as

108
The Performance.
-
the great assembly broke up, — almost unwillingly,
that it was itself an education to have witnessed
the spectacle. That was the feeling certainly among
the great body of the audience. They knew, for the
first time, what the classical tragedy is; and entered,
for the first time, into the temper and the enthu-
siasm of the people who, in its day, applauded it so
eagerly.”
From the special correspondent of the New
York - Nation":
-
“It was my good fortune last summer to witness
the performance of the Agamemnon of Aeschylus
in the hall of Balliol College, and it is natural that
on this occasion my thoughts should go
back to that
scene, of which I endeavored at the time to give some
slight account to the readers of the Nation. A com-
parison of the two performances is evidently unfair.
The Agamemnon and the Oedipus belong to different
stages of art. The articulation of the Oedipus is com-
plete in itself. The Agamemnon is one of a trilogy,
and the choral masses demand a different disposition.
It would have been impossible to handle them as Mr.
Paine handles the choruses of the Oedipus, without
a

The Performance.
109
wearying the audience and dulling the edge of the
action. Parts of them were sung, parts declaimed,
now in unison, now by single choreutai, and a certain
dramatic effect was thus attained, and a far closer
unity of actors and chorus than was possible in the
Harvard rendering of the Oedipus. The antique
character was more seriously compromised, but the
vitality was more tense. Nor would it be fair to
compare the external conditions. The Oxford men
had made no long and elaborate preparation. The
stage appliances were simple in the extreme. Not
half as many shillings were spent at Oxford as dol-
lars at Harvard. A superb young undergraduate
was busy stencilling a part of the palace roof of the
Atreidae a couple of hours before the performance
began. The costumes were not elaborate; there
was no book of the opera, no distinct effort to
be scholarly or archaeological; and yet it was a
marked success,
- a success that repeated itself at
Harrow, at Eton, in London. It is a beautiful thing
to remember, with all its youthful dash and zest.
Carefully planned, thoroughly studied, wrought out
with minute attention to such details as fell within
the limits, our Harvard Oedipus was by far the more

110
The Performance.
finished piece of work, and the memory of it is a more
brilliant picture.”
From the New York Times”:-
a
“The brilliant success of this attempt to put before
an American audience a Greek tragedy in its original
setting is a deserved reward for the unsparing labor
and zeal of those who have taken part in the enter-
prise."
a
From the New York - Christian Union."
“ The brilliant audiences, representative of the best
American scholarship, which have gathered here,
coming with mingled feelings of curiosity and schol-
arly interest to be amused and entertained by a
representation of classic life, have been startled at
first by the perfect and beautiful movement of the
drama, and then irresistibly held in breathless atten-
tion
upon the unfolding of a tragedy so full of
human interest that, although spoken in a dead
language, it is as contemporaneous as Hamlet or
Faust.”

The Performance.
111
From the “Springfield Republican ": -
The Harvard students made of the Oedipus Ty-
rannus to-night something more than a play for the
closet and class-room. Their thoroughly dramatic
interpretation of the tragedy gave it a living and
human interest, and they had the sympathy and
fixed attention of every person from first to last.
The representation was a wonderfully accurate copy
of Attic models. In the pronunciation of the lan-
guage, costumes, stage scenery, and choral effects,
it was doubtless the most faithful reproduction of a
play in the Dionysiac Theatre, at Athens, 2300 years
ago, that has ever been attempted in modern times.”
From the Boston “Evening Transcript” of
a later date:-
-
“The Greek play at Harvard is to be performed
for the last time this evening. The premium on the
price of the seats shows the eagerness to witness this
rare, noble, and beautiful effort in art.
It seems a
pity that all is to be a memory only after this per-
formance, and that so complete and worthy a presen-
tation of the great Greek drama will never be seen
again, by this generation, at least. Yet the public of

112
The Performance.
Boston, whose fame as an art centre is still further
magnified to the world by the triumph at the Har-
vard theatre, will not be unreasonable or ungrateful.
It has only thanks and honor for the generous youths
and the accomplished men who have given so much
wearing labor to the production that there is no one
of them but says that, if it were to be done over
again, no possible rewards would tempt him to en-
gage
in it.”
>

VI.
HE Harvard Greek play is over;
the labors of many months have
been brought to a conclusion more
successful than any one had hoped; there
is everything to remember with pride, and
little or nothing to regret. In looking back
one recalls with pleasure the devotion of
those who took charge, the enthusiasm of
the performers, and the quick response of the
public. An impulse has been given to clas-
sical studies, and already two Greek plays
are announced from other colleges. There
is no ground for fear that the event will be
forgotten. To those who witnessed the play,
it will remain a memorable incident; to those

114
En Retrospect.
who made the play, it will constitute one of
the privileges of life.
There is, however, a feature of the play
which is of more importance than all its
pleasing memories. Athenae omnium doctri-
narum inventrices, said the Roman orator; and
among these the most prominent is a cer-
tain doctrina vivendi, which was the mother
of all the excellences of that glorious age.
In the play of Oedipus the King this doctrine
is presented by a master's hand, and though
the labor of production was so absorbing,
and though the performance was so dazzling,
yet the underlying moral significance did
not go unheeded.
The Oedipus is a powerful exhibition of
the fact that our lives“ do ride upon a dial's
point.” Who could have foreseen the woes
of Oedipus? As little can any man foresee
his own.
The sword is hanging, the shears
of the weird sisters are moving across the
web, the message is preparing, and no man

66

In Be' ospect.
115
knows when or how it shall be delivered.
But there is a deeper moral in the play
than this universal truth. Each man bears
the responsibility not only of his own deeds,
but also of the deeds of a long line of an-
cestors. “God does not pay at the end of
every day, my Lord Cardinal,” was said to
Richelieu by one of his victims, “but at
the end God pays.” Every sin brings suf-
fering, but not to the doer alone. This is
the great moral basis of life, and it is a fact
which will be enforced by the new ethics as it
never was by the old. Some one has wittily
said that we may be the sons of our grand-
fathers; we certainly bear the consequences
of their sins. Thebes weeps for the sins of
her rulers. The suffering does not always
fall upon the doer of the sin, but fall it does
somewhere, and life would be a mockery
if anything could be found to break the fall.
There may be delay, there may be apparent
miscarriage, but the sequence is inevitable.

116
In Retrospect.
“Sorrow tracketh wrong
As echo follows song,
On, on for ever.”
To trace the working of the curse in the
family of Laius is enough to cause a shud-
der of apprehension, for the experience of
most men furnishes something similar at
least in kind.
It is obviously just to the fathers that their
sins should be visited upon their children, but
it is equally clear that it is hard upon the
children. The consequences of sin are as
careless of their object as is the rain. Oedi-
pus was essentially an innocent man. To do
right is not sufficient to prevent suffering, if
some one before us has done wrong. This
is a fact painful to face, but out of the pain
grows the lesson. The laws which work for
the greatest happiness of the greatest num-
ber — if, indeed, there be such laws — are
not considerate of the happiness of any in-
dividual. This is the truth in the doctrine
-

In Betrospect.
117
of fate: every sin committed will be expi-
ated to the full by the innocent perhaps, by
the guilty assuredly. The Greek recognition
of this supreme fact is shown in the instant
acceptance by Oedipus of the punishment of
sins in which he had no part. He is a man,
and he is willing to share the lot of human-
ity. It is this which redeems him from his
passion in the murder of Laius and the injus-
tice toward Creon ; it is this which lifts him
to a truly tragic place, and entitles him to
the sympathies of mankind.
-
-
The performance of a Greek tragedy to-
day has two aspects, — the one, that of a
drama — Spāua meaning a great action
exhibiting in unmistakable outlines the in-
flexibility of the moral law; the other, that
of an undertaking with no significance beyond
its interest. Since the circumstances of the
present day are such as are likely to render
the latter aspect the more common one, this

118
In Betrospect.
account of the Harvard Greek play may be
closed with an appeal.

“Be otherwise instructed, you !
And preferably ponder, ere ye pass,
Each incident of this strange human play.”

Appendir 1.
THE OEDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLES
will be performed in the original Greek at HARVARD
UNIVERSITY, in the SANDERS THEATRE, on the eve-
nings of May 17, 19, and 20. The part of Oedipus-
will be taken by MR. GEORGE RIDDLE, instructor in<
Elocution, and the other parts by students of the
University. The music for the choruses has been
composed for this performance by PROFESSOR J. K.
PAINE; and the choral odes will be sung by a dra-
matic chorus of fifteen students, assisted by a supple-c
mentary chorus composed chiefly of graduates, with
orchestral accompaniment.
Five hundred tickets for the first performance, at
$3.00 each, and eight hundred for each of the other
performances, at $2.00 each, will be offered to the
public. Each ticket will entitle the holder to a re-
served seat.

120
The Circular of the Committee.
Of these tickets a number not exceeding 100 for
the first evening and 200 for each of the succeeding
evenings will be assigned by the committee to per-
sons living in places distant from Cambridge. Appli-
cations for these may be made to MR. C. W. SEVER,
University Bookstore, Cambridge, and must be re-
ceived by him on or before March 25. These tick-
ets will be assigned by lot, and adjacent seats (when
desired) will be given to each applicant. If more
tickets are asked for than can be assigned in this
way, the committee will distribute those which are
at their disposal to the applicants according to their
judgment. All applicants will be informed immedi-
ately by mail of the number of tickets assigned them;
and payment for the tickets will be deferred until
such notice is received.
The regular sale of tickets will begin at the Uni-
versity Bookstore in Cambridge, and at 146 Tremont
Street in Boston, on Monday, April 4, at 10 A.M.
The text of the Oedipus Tyrannus, in Greek and
English, will be for sale at both places at which tick-
ets are sold; and will be sent by mail to any
address.
Price, 50 cents; by mail, 60 cents.
The music of the choruses, composed by PROFESSOR


The Circular of the Committee.
121
PAINE, with Greek and English words and piano ac-
companiment, will be published March 30 by MR.
ARTHUR P. SCHMIDT, 146 Tremont Street, Boston, who
will send it by mail on receipt of the price, $1.25.
W. W. GOODWIN,
J. W. WHITE,
J. K. PAINE,
Committee
of
Arrangements.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY,
March 16, 1881.



Appendir 2.
ΠΑΣΙ ΤΟΙΣ ΘΕΩΜΕΝΟΙΣ ΧΑΙΡΕΙΝ
ET
VMή.
HA
ΟΣ
χαίρετ' αστικός λεως,
ίκταρ ήμενοι Διός,
παρθένου φίλας φίλοι,
σωφρονούντες εν χρόνω.
Παλλάδος δ' υπό πτερους
όντας άζεται πατήρ.

ΣΟΦΟΚΛΕΟΥΣ
ΟΙΔΙΠΟΥΣ ΤΥΡΑΝΝΟΣ
ΔΙΔΑΧΘΗΣΕΤΑΙ ΕΝ ΘΕΑΤΡΩΙ ΤΩΙ ΤΟΥ ΑΡΒΑΡΔΙΟΥ ΔΙΔΑΣΚΑΛΕΙΟΥ
τη εβδόμη επί δέκα του Θαργηλιώνος μηνός, έτει ΑΩΠΑ, και αύθις
τη ενάτη επί δέκα και τη εικάδι και τη δεκάτη φθίνοντος,
και τελευταίον τη τετράδι φθίνοντος.

ΤΑ ΤΟΥ ΔΡΑΜΑΤΟΣ ΠΡΟΣΩΠΑ.
Οιδίπους, θηβαίων βασιλεύς .
Ιερεύς Διός
Κρέων, αδελφός Ιοκάστης
Τειρεσίας, μάντις τυφλός.
Ιοκάστη, θηβαίων βασίλεια.
"Αγγελος Κορίνθιος
θεράπων Λαΐου .
'Εξάγγελος
GEORGE RIDDLE.
WILLIAM HOBBS MANNING,
HENRY NORMAN.
CURTIS GUILD.
LEONARD ECKSTEIN OPDYCKE.
ARTHUR WELLINGTON ROBERTS.
GARDINER MARTIN LANE.
OWEN WISTER.
ΚΩΦΑ ΠΡΟΣΩΠΑ.
'Ακόλουθοι Οιδίποδος
Ακόλουθοι Ιοκάστης
'Ακόλουθοι Κρέοντος
Παις Τειρεσίαν εισάγων
'Αντιγόνη.
Ισμήνη
J. R. COOLIDGE, E. J. WENDELL.
J. J. GREENOUGH, W. L. PUTNAM.
G. P. KEITH, J. LEE.
C. H. GOODWIN.
E. MANNING.
J. K. WHITTEMORE.
Ικέται. –G. P. KEITH, G. D. MARKHAM (ιερής). W. H. HERRICK,
J. LEE, E. LOVERING, H. PUTNAM, L. A. SHAW, C. M.
WALSH (ήθεοι λεκτοί). C. H. GOODWIN, E. MANNING,
R. MANNING, W. MERRILL, E. R. THAYER, J. K. WHIT-
TEMORE (παίδες).

ΧΟΡΟΣ ΓΕΡΟΝ ΤΩΝ ΘΗΒΑΙΩΝ.
.
Κορυφαίος.
LOUIS BUTLER McCAGG.
Συγχορευτής εν τη τρίτη στασίμω μονωδών . GEORGE LAURIE OsGOOD.
Χορευταί -
N. M. BRIGHAM, MARSHALL H. CUSHING, CHARLES S. HAMLIN,
FREDERICK R. BURTON, WENDELL P. DAVIS, JARED S. How,
HENRY G. CHAPIN, MORRIS EARLE,
HOWARD LILIENTHAL,
SUMNER COOLIDGE, PERCIVAL J. EATON, CHARLES F. MASON,
EDWARD P. MASON,
GUSTAVUS TUCKERMAN.
Χοροδιδάσκαλος και τας αύλωδίας ποιήσας
JOHN KNOWLES PAINE.
.
Υποβολεύς .
GEORGE L. KITTREDGE.
Η μεν σκηνή του δράματος προ των βασιλείων εν Θήβαις ταις Βοιω-
τικαίς υπόκειται. Ο δε χορός συνέστηκεν εκ θηβαίων γερόντων. Προ-
λογίζει δ' Οιδίπους.
'Αξιούσιν οι επιμεληται πάντας τους θεωρούντας διαμένειν καθημένους
έως αν τελευτηθώσιν οι εξόδιοι νόμοι. Ευθύς δ' άσθέντος του τετάρτου
στασίμου (1ώ γενεαί βροτών, κ. τ. ε.) ανάπαυσις γενήσεται τους έξιέναι
βουλομένοις. Μετά δε ταύτα αι θύραι κεκλείσονται.
Μετά την θέαν άμαξαι ιπποσιδηροδρομικαί ετοίμαι έσονται τους ές
άστυ πορεύεσθαι μέλλουσιν.
Μετεφράσθη ένια χάριν των μη ελληνιζόντων –
The spectators are urgently requested to remain seated until the end of the
orchestral postlude. A short pause will be made after the last choral song
iw yeveai Bpotwv, 0 tribes of living men, etc.) for the convenience of those who
wish to leave the theatre, and the doors will then remain closed until the end
of the performance.
Horse-cars will be ready after the performance for those who wish to go to
Boston.
Ουιλσώνες τύποις έγραψαν.


Appendir 3.
A PARTIAL BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE
HARVARD GREEK PLAY.
[The names of the writers are given when known. An asterisk indicates
that the date is given approximately.]
.
66
66
Accounts previous to the performances :-
Boston Sunday Herald. By H. Norman
Mar. 27
New York Herald. By H. Norman
Apr. 1
Evening Post
16
Boston Daily Advertiser.
May 2
Boston Daily Advertiser. An account of the
music by G. A. Burdett.
5
Boston Daily Advertiser.
11
Chicago Tribune*
14
The Harvard Register. By Prof. J. W. White May
Boston Journal
May 17
Post
Traveller
Philadelphia Telegraph
Brooklyn Times.
The Nation. By Prof. B. L. Gildersleeve of
Johns Hopkins University
66
.
.
66
66
66
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
GRADUATE LIBRARY
DATE DUE
OCT 207980
FEB 08 1404
-JAN 091986
MAR 2/ 1999
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 00852 9557
DO NOT REMOVE
OR
MUTILATE CARD