LIBRARY^ UNIVERSITY OP CALIFORNIA . SAN oieeo I 15S03 GREEK TRAGEDY GREEK TRAGEDY /GILBERT NORWOOD, M.A ^ . ... ' "" FORMERLY FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, CARDIFF JOHN W. LUCE & GO. BOSTON MGMXX PREFACE THIS book is an attempt to cover the whole field of Greek Tragedy. My purpose throughout has been twofold. Firstly, I have sought to provide classical students with definite facts and with help towards a personal appreciation of the plays they read. My other intention has been to interest and in some degree to satisfy those "general readers" who have little or no knowledge of Greek. This second function is to-day at least as important as the first. Apart from the admirable progress shown in Europe and the English-speaking world by many works of first- rate Greek scholarship, in the forefront of which stand J ebb's monumental Sophocles, Verrall's achievements in dramatic criticism, and the unrivalled Einleitung of Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, the magnificent verse-trans- lations of Professor Gilbert Murray, springing from a rare union of poetic genius with consummate scholarship, have introduced in this country a new epoch of interest in Greek drama among many thousands who are un- acquainted with the language. Even more momentous is the fact that the feeling of educated people about drama in general has been revolutionized and reanimated by the creative genius of Ibsen, whose penetrating influence is the chief cause of the present dramatic renaissance in Great Britain. Two important topics have been given more pro- minence than is usual in books of this kind : dramatic structure and the scansion of lyrics. vi GREEK TRAGEDY It might have been supposed self-evident that the former of these is a vital part, indeed the foundation, of the subject, but it has suffered remarkable neglect or still more remarkable superficiality of treatment : criticism of the Greek tragedians has been vitiated time and again by a tendency to ignore the very existence of dramatic form. It is a strange reflection that the world of scholar- ship waited till 1887 for the mere revelation of grave difficulties in the plot of the Agamemnon. Examining boards still prescribe " Ajax vv. 1-865," on tne naive assumption that they know better than Sophocles where the play ought to end. Euripides has been discussed with a perversity which one would scarcely surpass if one applied to Anatole France the standards appropriate to Clarendon. Throughout I have at- tempted to follow the working of each playwright's mind, to realize what he meant his work to " feel like ". This includes much besides structure, but the plot is still, as in Aristotle's day, "the soul of the drama". Chapter VI, on metre and rhythm, will, I hope, be found useful. Greek lyrics are so difficult that most students treat them as prose. I have done my best to be accurate, clear, and simple, with the purpose of enabling the sixth-form boy or undergraduate to read his "chorus" with a sense of metrical and rhythmi- cal form. With regard to this chapter, even more than the others, I shall welcome criticism and advice* I have to thank my wife for much help, and my friend Mr. Cyril Brett, M.A., who kindly offered to make the Index. GILBERT NORWOOD CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. THE LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY . . i II. THE GREEK THEATRE AND THE PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 49 III. THE WORKS OF ^ESCHYLUS ...... 84 IV. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 132 V. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES . . . . ... .186 VI. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY . . 327 INDEX 365 GREEK TRAGEDY CHAPTER I THE LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY ALL the types of dramatic poetry known in Greece, tragic, satyric, and comic, originated in the worship of Dionysus, the deity of wild vegetation, fruits, and especially the vine. In his honour, at the opening of spring, were performed dithyrambs, hymns rendered by a chorus, who, dressed like satyrs, the legendary followers of Dionysus, pre- sented by song and mimic dance stories from the adventurous life of the god while on earth. It is from these dithyrambs that tragedy and satyric drama both sprang. The celebrated Arion, who raised the dithyramb to a splendid art-form, did much 1 incidentally to aid this development. His main achievement in this regard is the insertion of spoken lines in the course of the lyrical performance ; it seems, further, that these verses consisted of a dialogue between the chorus and the chorus-leader, who mounted upon the sacrificial table. Such interludes, no doubt, referred to incidents in the sacred story, and the early name for an actor (virot

vTfs, TOV 8f *A.8pr)arov. K.\tio~devr)s 8e Xopoiis fJ.fv ra> Atovvtro) anfSaxf, TTJV 8e aX\r)v dvcrtyv Me\aviirira> (see Ridgeway, p. 28) : " The men of Sicyon paid honours to Adrastus, and in particular they revered him with tragic choruses because of his sufferings, herein honouring not Dionysus, but Adrastus. Cleisthenes gave the choruses to Dionysus, and the rest of the offering to Melanippus." ' It may well be that Professor Ridgeway is right in asserting that dirfSvice means not " restored " but " gave " that is, these tragic choruses were originally of the funereal kind which he suggests for all primitive Greek tragedy. This is excellent evidence for his contention, so far as it goes, But it only proves one example. Herodotus' words, on the other hand. imply that he believed tragedy to be normally Dionysiac. To sum up, we cannot regard Professor Ridgeway as having succeeded in damaging the traditional view. 1 Aristotle, Poetic, 1448^ : 8ib KOI avTaroiovvrai TTJS Tt rpayw&'as KOI rijr 2 Ol., XIII, 1 8 sq. : TOI AMOI/VO-OV irodtv t^efpavev o~vv /jorjAarg 8i0upa/i/3w , i.e. as the context shows, the dithyramb appeared first at Corinth. 8 a for 77, and sometimes -av as the inflexion of the feminine genitive plural. 4 Poetic, I449 a ' yfvofitvr] 8' ovv drr' dp^r/s avToo~^f8iaaTiKrj . . . airOTwv eapxovTv TOV 8idvpap.f3ov . . . KOTO, fjnicpov Tjvt-rjdtj irpoay6vTo~f nal TOV \6yov irpuTayavicrrfjv nap((riifvaocX^r. rri 8e TO pfytdos ec 4 GREEK TRAGEDY " Tragedy . . . was at first mere improvization . . . originating with the leaders of the dithyramb. It ad- vanced by slow degrees ; each new element that showed itself was in turn developed. Having passed through many stages, it found its natural form, and there it stopped. ./Eschylus first introduced a second actor ; he diminished the importance of the chorus, and assigned the leading part to the dialogue. Sophocles raised the number of actors to three, and added scene-painting. It was not till late that the short plot was discarded for one of greater compass, and the grotesque diction of the earlier satyric form for the stately manner of tragedy. The iambic measure then replaced the trochaic tetra- meter, which was originally employed when the poetry was of the satyric order, and had greater affinities with dancing. . . . The number of ' episodes ' or acts was also increased, and the other embellishments added, of which tradition tells." We have but meagre knowledge of the drama before ^Eschylus, whose vast achievement so overshadowed his predecessors that their works were little read and have in consequence practically vanished. Tragedy was born at the moment when, as tradition relates, THESPIS of Icaria in Attica introduced the actor. Arion, as we saw, had already caused one of the chorus to mount upon the sacrificial table or the step of the altar and deliver a narrative, or converse with his fellow- choristers, concerning Dionysus, using not lyrical metre, but the trochaic tetrameter. 1 Thespis' great advance was to introduce a person who should actually present the character to whom Arion's chorister had merely fwduv teal Ae'fv ir\T]0rj. Kal ra aXX' a>s (WMrra KOO-fj.rj07Jvat Aryrrai . . . Here and elsewhere, in quoting from the Poetic^ I borrow Butcher's admir- able translation. 1 These narratives and conversations were naturally regarded as interruptions in the main business, and this feeling is marked by the name always given to the " acts " of a play, e'mcr68ia (" episodia "), i.e. " inter- ventions" or "interruptions". LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 5 made allusion : the action, instead of being reported, went on before the eyes of the audience. This change clearly at once begets the possibility of drama, however rudimentary. By retiring to the booth while the singers perform their lyric, he can change his mask and costume and reappear as another person ; by learning and dis- cussing what has been said by his supposed predecessor, he can exhibit the play of emotion or the construction of a plan. If this was done by Thespis, he was the founder of European drama. \\\s> floruit may be assigned to the year 535 B.C., the date of the first dramatic competition at Athens. But little is known of him. Aristotle in his Poetic 1 does not mention his name. Far later we have the remarks of Horace, " Diogenes Laertius," 2 and Suidas. Horace tells 3 that Thespis discovered tragic poetry, and conveyed from place to place on waggons a company of players who sang and acted his pieces, their faces smeared with lees of wine : " Diogenes Laertius" says that Thespis " discovered one actor ". Suidas gives us the names of several plays, Phorbas or The Trials (a#Xa) of Pelias, The Priests, The Youths, Pentheus. We possess four fragments alleged to belong to these, but they are spurious. Aristotle, 4 moreover, affirms that Tragedy was in the first place a matter of im- provization. The conclusion seems to be that Thespis did not " write plays " in the modern sense of the phrase. He was much more like those Elizabethan dramatists who provided " the words " for their actors, and for whom printing and publication were only thought of if the play had achieved success upon the boards. He stood midway between /Eschylus and the unknown actor-poets before Arion who improvized as they played. The next name of importance is that of CHQERILUS 1 The text of the treatise is, however, incomplete. The author of the pseudo-Platonic Minos (321 A) speaks of the current belief that Thespis was the originator of tragedy. 3 This is a mere name for a really anonymous collection of information on philosophical and other history. * Ars Poetica, 275-7. 4 Poetic, 14490. 6 GREEK TRAGEDY the Athenian, who competed in tragedy for the first time during the 64th Olympiad (524-1 B.C.) and continued writing for the stage during forty years. He produced one hundred and sixty plays, and obtained the first prize thirteen times. Later generations regarded him as especially excellent in the satyric drama 1 invented by his younger contemporary Pratinas. To him were attributed the invention of masks, as a substitute for the wine-lees of Thespis, and more majestic costume. We know by name only one of his works, the Alope, which is con- cerned with the Attic hero Triptolemus. A fragment or two reveal an unexpected preciosity of style ; he called stones and rivers "the bones and veins of the earth ". PRATINAS of Phlius, in the north of the Peloponnese, is said to have competed with yEschylus and Chcerilus in the 7Oth Olympiad (500-497 B.C.). His great achieve- ment, as we have said, was the invention of satyric drama. Fifty plays are attributed to him, of which thirty-two were satyric. Hardly any fragments of these are extant, but we get some conception of the man from a hyporchema in which he complains that music is en- croaching upon poetry : "let the flute follow the dancing revel of the song it is but an attendant ". With bound- less gusto and polysyllabic energy he consigns the flute to flames and derision. At length we reach a poet who seems to have been really great, a dramatist whose works, even to a genera- tion which knew and reverenced yEschylus, seemed unworthy to be let die PHRYNICHUS of Athens, son of Polyphradmon, whose first victory occurred 512-509 B.C. It is said that he was the first to bring female characters upon the stage (always, however, played by men). The following dramas are known by name : Egyptians ; Alcestis ; Antaus or The Libyans ; The Daughters of Danaus ; The Capture of Miletus ; Phoenician Women (Phoenisstz} ; The Women of Pleuron ; Tantalus ; 1 jSao-iXtvs rfv Xot'ptXos ( v (rarupoir (Plotius, De Metris, p. 2633, quoted by Haigh, Tragic Drama, p. 40). LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 7 Troilus. The Egyptians seems to have dealt with the same subject as the Supplices of yEschylus ; so does the Danaides ; these two dramas may have formed part of a trilogy. The Alcestis followed the same lines as the Euripidean play ; it is probable, indeed, that the appari- tion of Death with a sword was borrowed by Euripides from Phrynichus. The Antczus related the wrestling- match between Heracles and his earth-born foe. The manner in which Aristophanes * refers to the play shows that the description of the wrestling-bout was still celebrated after the lapse of a century. The Pleuronia treated of Meleager and the fateful log which was preserved, and then burnt in anger, by his mother Althaea. Two plays were specially important. The Phcenissa (produced in 476), celebrated the victory of Salamis, had Themistocles himself for choregus, and won the prize ; its popularity never waned throughout the fifth century. We are told that the prologue was spoken by an eunuch while he placed the cushions for the Persian counsellors ; further an important fact that this person, at the be- ginning of the play, announced the defeat of Xerxes. The Capture of Miletus, less popular in later days no fragments at all are to be found created even more stir at the moment. Miletus had been captured by Darius in 494 B.C., Athens having failed to give effec- tive support to the Ionian revolt. While the distress and shame excited by the fall of the proudest city in Asiatic Greece were still strong in Athenian minds, Phrynichus ventured to dramatize the disaster. Hero- dotus tells how " the theatre burst into tears ; they fined him a thousand drachmae for reminding them of their own misfortunes, and gave command that no man should ever use that play again ". 2 1 Frogs, 689 : ? TIS rjpMpre crvo &oiviv ^pwl^ov (prja} rovs nVperar irapairfTroifi- i'os 'Adrjvalov To8e Ktv6(i Karaffrdifjifvov 7rvpv tr U GREEK TRAGEDY definitely before the modern eye than that of perhaps any other fifth-century Greek. His social talent made him a noted figure whose good sayings were repeated, and of whom the gossips as well as the critics loved to circulate illustrative stories. He seemed the embodiment of all that man can ask. Genius, good health, industry, long life, personal beauty, affluence, popularity, and the sense of power all were his, and enjoyed in that very epoch which, beyond all others, seems to have combined stimulus with satisfaction. Salamis was fought and won just as he had left childhood behind. His adoles- cence and maturity coincided with the rise and estab- lishment of the Athenian Empire ; he listened to Pericles, saw the Parthenon and Propylaea rise upon the Acropolis, associated with yEschylus, Euripides, Aristophanes, and Thucydides, watched the work of Phidias and Polygnotus grow to life under their fingers. Though he carried into the years of Nestor the genius of Shakespeare, he was yet so blessed that he died before the fall of Athens. Phrynichus, the comic poet, wrote : " Blessed was Sophocles, who passed so many years before his death, a happy man and brilliant, who wrote many beautiful tragedies and made a fair end of a life which knew no misfortune". 1 Sophocles' own words 2 come as a significant comment : [if] (bvvat TOV airavra vino, \oyov. TO 8 , (7T(\ avf), ftrjvai Kfldtv SdfVTTfp 17*64, TroXii 8fVTpov us Ta\iaTa. " Best of all fates when a man weighs everything is not to be born, and second-best beyond doubt is, once born, to depart with all speed to that place whence we came." Of his social charm there are many evidences. He gathered round him a kind of literary club or salon. 1 Aristophanes, too, in the Frogs ocX^s efprj avros p.tv oiovs 8(1 iroitlv, ~Evpiiri&r)v 8e ooi 2 Plutarch, De Profectu in Virtute, 79 B : 6 2o(poit\fjs eXtye, rov Ai- o^vXov SioTreTrat^wj oynov, tira TO irutpov *cat Kararc^vov TJJS avrov KaTaorKeuf}?, Tpirov 77877 TO T>7? Xe'^fcoy /ieTa/3aXXfti/ etdos oirep eoriJ> r^diKoyrarov w/xe#', 019 crweayxev, " I intro- duced life as we live it, the things of our everyday experi- ence ". Such sentences as these reflect unmistakably the conversation of a playwright who was jealous for the dignity and the progress of his art. Though during his own time Euripides was hardly equal in repute to his two companions, scarcely had his Macedonian grave closed over him than his popu- larity began to overshadow theirs. ^Eschylus became a dim antique giant ; Sophocles, though always ad- mired, was too definitely Attic and Periclean to retain all his prestige in the Hellenistic world. It was the more cosmopolitan poet who won posthumous applause from one end of the civilized earth to the other. From 400 B.C. to the downfall of the ancient world he was 1 Frogs, V. 1122 : do-CK^y yap fjv tv 177 (frpdcrd rS)t> irpayfjMTav. 3 vv. 846-54. 3 vv. 518-44. * Frogs, 939 sqq. s Ibid. 948 sqq. 8 Ibid. 959 : ? Ai/caiap^os Te ?repl TO\> 'EXXdSor ftiov KCU 'ApiOTOTeX?/? fv {j7rofjLvrj/j.acr^, 22 GREEK TRAGEDY Medea to explain the oracle, a few more in which she tells Jason how he shall die, and the celebrated passage which reads like a shorter version of her great soliloquy when deciding to slay her children. There is the same anguish, the same vacillation, the same address to her "passion " (Qvpos). Such a writer is plainly epoch-mak- ing : he adds a new feature to tragedy in the life-time of Sophocles. The realism of everyday life and the pangs of conscience battling with temptation these we are wont to call Euripidean. But some have denied the very existence of Neophron as a dramatist : the frag- ments are fourth-century forgeries, or Euripides brought out a first edition l of his play under Neophron's name. Against these views is the great authority of Aristotle, 2 who, however, may have been deceived by the name " Neophron" in official records. An argument natural to modern students, that a poet of Euripides' calibre would not have borrowed and worked up another's play, is of doubtful strength. ^Eschylus, as we have seen, probably acted so towards Phrynichus. The best view is probably that of antiquity. We may note that S icy on is close to Corinth, and that a legend domestic to the latter city might naturally find its first treatment in a playwright of Sicyon. ARISTARCHUS of Tegea, whose dtbut is to be dated about 453 B.C., is said by Suidas to have lived for over a hundred years, to have written seventy tragedies, two of which won the first prize, and one of which was called Asclepius (a thank-offering for the poet's re- covery from an illness), and to have " initiated the present length of plays ". 3 This latter point sounds important, but it is difficult to understand precisely what Suidas means. For though the average Sophoclean or Euripidean tragedy is longer than the ^/Eschylean, 1 There is good reason to suppose that what we possess is a second version. The scholiast on Aristophanes mentions passages as parodies of lines in the Medea which we no longer read there. 2 In his viropv^paTo., quoted by the Argument to the Medea, 3 frpuros fh TO vvv p.r]Kos TCI ftpufiara KaTe(rrn, LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 23 Aristarchus began work later than Sophocles and no earlier than Euripides. It has been thought that Suidas refers to the length of dramas in post-Euripidean times, but of these we have perhaps no examples. 1 Aristarchus' reputation was slight but enduring. Ennius two and a half centuries later translated his Achilles into Latin ; the same work is quoted in the prologue of Plau- tus' Posnulus. A phrase 2 from another play became proverbial. A more distinguished but probably less important writer was ION of Chios, son of Orthomenes, who lived between 484 and 421 B.C. A highly accomplished man of ample means, he travelled rather widely. In Athens he must have spent considerable time, for he was intimate with Cimon and his circle, and produced plays the number of which is by one authority put at iforty. Besides tragedy and satyric drama, he wrote comedies, dithyrambs, hymns, paeans, elegies, epigrams, and scolia. He was, moreover, distinguished in prose writing : we hear of a book on the Pounding of Chios, of a philosophic work, and of certain memoirs. 3 This latter work must be a real loss to us, if we may judge from its fragments. In the fifth century B.C. no one but a facile Ionian would have thought it worth while to record mere gossip even about the great ; for us there is great charm in an anecdote like that of the literary discussion between Sophocles and the school- master, or the exclamation of ^Eschylus at the Isthmian Games. 4 Ion would seem to have been less a great 1 Unless we except the Rhesus (996 lines). 2 The original form of it seems to have been : WOT' ov% virdpxcav dXXa Tip,a>poi>fj.fi>os ay a>v iovp.cu. 3 The name is not certain. The book is variously called vnop-vrip^iTa (" notes "), eni8r)p.{ai (" visits "), and (rtu/eK&^ruco?. The first is not a " name " it merely describes the book. The second was explained by Bentley to mean " accounts of the visits to our island of Chios by dis- tinguished strangers ". The third could mean something like " traveller's companion ". 4 Plutarch (De Profectu in Virtute, 79 E), no doubt quoting from Ion, tells us that at a critical moment in a boxing match ^schylus nudged Ion 24 GREEK TRAGEDY poet than a delightful belletrist ; the quality is well shown in his remark * that life, like a tragic tetralogy, should have a satyric element. One year he obtained a sensational success by winning the first prize both for tragedy and for a dithyramb ; to commemorate this he presented to each Athenian citizen a cask of Chian wine. He died before 421, the date of Aristo- phanes' Peace? wherein he is spoken of as transformed into a star, in allusion to a charming lyric passage of his : (ianov dtpofyoirav dcrrtpa fi(ivap.(v d(\iov \fVKOirTepvya irp68pop.ov. " We awaited the star that wanders through the dawn- lit sky, pale-winged courier of the sun." His tragedies, 3 though they do not appear to have had much effect on the progress of technique or on public opinion, were popular. Aristophanes, for instance, nearly twenty years after his death, quotes a phrase from his Sentinels* as proverbial, and centuries later the author of the treatise On the Sublime 5 wrote his cele- brated verdict : "In lyric poetry would you prefer to be Bacchylides rather than Pindar ? And in tragedy to be Ion of Chios rather than Sophocles ? It is true that Bacchylides and Ion are faultless and entirely elegant writers of the polished school, while Pindar and Sophocles, although at times they burn everything before them as it were in their swift career, are often extinguished un- accountably and fail most lamentably. But would any- one in his senses regard all the compositions of Ion put together as an equivalent for the single play of the CEdipus?" and said : " You see what a difference training makes ? The man who has received the blow is silent, while the spectators cry aloud." 1 Plutarch, Pericles, Chap. V. 2 v. 835. To the scholium on this line we owe much of our information about Ion. 3 One of them bears the curious title "Great Play " (piya Spapz), but nothing is known of it. * Frogs, 1425. 8 JCXXIII, 5 (Prof. Rhys Roberts' translation). LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 25 ACH^EUS of Eretria was born in 484 B.C., and exhibited his first play at Athens in 447. He won only one first prize though we hear that he composed over forty plays, nearly half of which are known by name. That he was second only to ^Eschylus in satyric drama was the opinion held by that delightful philosopher Menedemus l the minor Socratic, the seat of whose school was Eretria itself, Achaeus' birthplace. It has been suggested that the apparent disproportion of satyric plays written by Achaeus is to be accounted for by his having written them for other poets. 2 He is once copied by Euripides and parodied twice by Aris- tophanes. 3 Athenaeus makes an interesting comment on his style : " Achaeus of Eretria, though an elegant poet in the structure of his plots, occasionally blackens his phrasing and produces many cryptic expressions". 4 The instance which he gives is significant : \iddpyvpos 8' o\irr) irapTjwpflro xpiff^iaros ir\ta TOV 'STrapTidrrjv ypairrov ev StTrXw " the cruse of alloyed silver, filled with ointment, swung beside the Spartan tablet, double wood inscribed ". That is, " he carried an oil- flask and a Spartan general's baton ". Aiming at dignified originality of diction Achaeus has merely fallen into queerness. On the other side, when he seeks vigorous realism he becomes quaintly prosaic. In the Philoctetes, for instance, Aga- memnon utters the war-cry eXeXeXev in the middle of an iambic line. A far more noteworthy dramatist was AGATHON the Athenian, who seems to have impressed his contempor- aries, and even the exacting Aristotle, as coming next in merit to the three masters. Born about 446 B.C., he 1 Diog. Laert. II, 133. 2 Croiset III, p. 400 (n.), thus explains the strange words of Suidas, fireSfinvvTO 8f KOIVJJ taking the whole epic subject instead of an episode. Agathon is trying yet another experiment it was necessary for a writer of his powers to vary in some way from Euripides, but this attempt was unsatisfactory. 2 In the Thesmophoriazusce Aristophanes pays Agatfaon the honour of elaborate parody. Euripides comes to beg his friend to plead for him before an assembly of Athenian women, and the scene in which Agathon amid much pomp explains the principles of his art, contains definite and valuable criticism under the usual guise of burlesque ; that Aristophanes valued him is shown by the affectionate pun on his name which he introduces into the Frogs (v. 84): dyadbs jrotqnjr teat iroQavbs rots v i\68o)pos 4 Tftesm. i^osgy. 6 Ibid. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 29 Agathon, then, marks unmistakably the beginning of decadence. The three masters had exhausted the possibilities of the art open to that age. A new impulse from without or the social emancipation of women might have opened new paths of achievement. But no great external influence was to come till Alexander, and then the result for Greece itself was loss of independence and vigour. And the little that could be done with women still in the harem or the slave-market was left to be performed by Menander and his fellow-comedians. 1 Agathon made a valiant effort to carry tragedy into new channels, but lacked the genius to leave more than clever experiments. On a lower plane of achievement stands CRITIAS, the famous leader of the " Thirty Tyrants ". Two tragedies from his pen are known to us, Pirithous'*' and Sisyphus, both at one time attributed to Euripides ; but he is too doctrinaire, too deficient in brilliant idiomatic ease, for such a mistake to endure. The Pirithous deals with Heracles' descent into Hades to rescue Theseus and to demand of Pluto Persephone's hand for Pirithous. Of this astounding story we find little trace in the fragments, which are mostly quasi -philosophical dicta. For in- stance : A temper sound more stable is than law ; The one no politician's eloquence Can warp, but law by tricks of cunning words Full often is corrupted and unhinged. In strong contrast to these prosaic lines is Critias' superb apostrophe to the Creator, which may be para- phrased thus : From all time, O Lord, is thy being ; neither is there any that saith, This is my son. All that is created, lo, thou hast woven the firmament about it ; the heavens revolve, and all that is therein spinneth like a wheel. 1 It is noteworthy that Socrates' famous "prophecy of Shakespeare" (Symposium, 223 D), "one who can write comedy can write tragedy and vice versa," is addressed to Agathon and Aristophanes jointly. 3 The attribution of this play to Critias is not certain, but probable ; it is accepted by Wilamowitz. The new life of Euripides by Satyrus (see above, p. 1 8) attributes it to that poet. 30 GREEK TRAGEDY Thou hast girded thyself with light ; the gloom of dusk is about thee, even as a garment of netted fire. Stars without number dance around thee ; they cease not, they move in a measure through thy high places. From the same hymn probably comes the majestic pas- sage which tells of " unwearied Time that in full flood ever begets himself, and the Great Bear and the Less. ..." In apparent contrast to this tone is the remarkable passage, of forty-two lines, from the Sisyphus. It is a purely rationalistic account of religion. First human life was utterly brutish : there were no rewards for righteousness, no punishment of evil-doers. Then law was set up, that justice might be sovereign ; but this device only added furtiveness to sin. Finally, "some man of shrewdness and wisdom . . . introduced re- ligion " (or "the conception of God," TO Oelov), so that even in secret the wicked might be restrained by fear. The contradiction between these two plays is illusory : Critias combines with disbelief in the personal Greek gods belief in an impersonal First Cause. It is too often forgotten that among the "Thirty Tyrants " were men of strong religious principles. The democratic writers of Athens loved to depict them as mercenary butchers, but it is plain from the casual testimony of Lysias 1 that they looked upon themselves as moral reformers. " They said that it was their business to purge the city of wicked men, and turn the rest of the citizens to righteousness and self-restraint." Such pas- sages read like quotations from men who would in- augurate a " rule of the saints," and if their severities surpassed those of the English Puritans, they were them- selves outdone by the cruelty which sternly moral leaders of the French Revolution not only condoned but initiated. Critias was the Athenian Robespierre. But the one revolution was the reverse of the other. The regime of the Thirty was a last violent effort of the Athenian oligarchs to stem the tide of ochlocracy, to 1 Eratosthenes, II. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 31 induce some self-discipline into the freedom of Athens. They failed, and Critias was justified on the field of Chseronea. The most successful tragic playwright of the fourth century was ASTYDAMAS, whose history furnishes good evidence that after the disappearance of Euripides and Sophocles the Greek genius was incapable of carrying tragedy into new developments. While prose could boast such names as Plato and Demosthenes, the tragic art found no greater exponent than this Astydamas, of whose numerous plays nothing is left save nine odd lines. There were, moreover, two Astydamantes, father and son, whose works (scarcely known save by name) it is difficult to distinguish. But it seems that it was the son whose popularity was so great as to win him fifteen first prizes and an honour before unknown. His Parthenopczus won such applause in 340 B.C. that the Athenians set up a brazen statue of the playwright in the theatre ; it was not till ten years later that the orator Lycurgus persuaded them to accord a like honour to the three Masters. We learn from Aristotle l that Astydamas altered the story of Alcmaeon, causing him to slay his mother in ignor- ance ; and Plutarch 2 alludes to his Hector as one of the greatest plays. He was nothing more than a capable writer who caught the taste of his time, and probably owed much of his popularity to the excellence of his actors. Only one fact is known about POLYIDUS " the sophist," but that is sufficiently impressive. Aristotle twice 3 takes the Recognition-scene in his Iphigenia as an example, and in the second instance actually com- pares the work of Polyidus with one of Euripides' most wonderful successes the Recognition-scene in the Iphigenia in Tauris. It appears that as Orestes was led away to slaughter he exclaimed : " Ah ! So I was fated,' like my sister, to be sacrificed." This 1 Poetic, H53/J. *De Gloria Atheniensium, 349 E. * Poetic, i455, b. 32 GREEK TRAGEDY catches the attention of Iphigenia and saves his life. Polyidus here undoubtedly executed a brilliant coup de theatre. During the fourth century many tragedians wrote not for public performance but for readers. Of these avayvucrTLKol 1 the most celebrated was CH/EREMON, of whom sufficient fragments and notices survive to gitfe a distinct literary portrait. Comic poets ridiculed his pre- ciosity : he called water " river's body," ivy "the year's child," and loved word-play : npiv yap fypoveiv cv Kara(f>povLv eTrtcrrao-at. 2 But though a sophisticated at- tention to style led him into such frigid mannerisms, he can express ideas with a brief Euripidean cogency : per- haps nothing outside the work of the great masters was more often quoted in antiquity than his dictum " Human life is luck, not discretion " TV^T] TO. QVT)TUV Trpdyi^aT 1 , OVK ev/3ovXta. The only technical peculiarity attributed to him is the play Centaur, if play it was. Athenaeus calls it a "drama in many metres," 3 while Aristotle 4 uses the word "rhapsody," implying epic quality. It may be that the epic or narrative manner was used side by side with the dramatic in the manner of Bunyan. Here is another proof that by the time of Euripides tragedy had really attained its full development. At- tempts at new departures in technique are all abortive after his day. A delightful point which emerges again and again is Chaeremon's passion for flowers. From Thyestes come two phrases " the sheen of roses mingled with silver lilies," and " strewing around the children of flowering spring ' ' which indicate, as do many others, Chaeremon's love of colour and sensuous loveliness. It was his desire to express all the details of what pleased 1 Aristotle, Rhetoric, III, 12, 2 : /Saora^oj/Ttu 8 ot avayvaxrriKoi, ola Xaiprjfjiw (iKpiftijs yap Sxrntp \oyoy pdpartoi> (properly " purse "), because " it is thrown in the face of the foe " (tvavriov /SoXXerat). LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 35 the younger Dionysius, the Syracusan tyrant, and his longest fragment deals with the Sicilian worship of Demeter and Persephone. We possess certain interest- ing facts about his plots. Aristotle l as an instance of the first type of Recognition that by signs mentions among those which are congenital "the stars introduced by Carcinus in his Thyestes" (evidently birthmarks). More striking is a later paragraph : 2 "In constructing the plot and working it out with the proper diction, the poet should place the scene, as far as possible, before his eyes. . . . The need of such a rule is shown by the fault found in Carcinus. Amphiaraus was on his way from the temple. This fact escaped the observation of one who did not see the situation. On the stage, how- ever, the piece failed, the audience being offended at the oversight. ' ' This shows incidentally how little assistance an ancient dramatist obtained from that now vital col- laborator, the rehearsal. In the Medea* of Carcinus the heroine, unlike the Euripidean, did not slay her children but sent them away. Their disappearance caused the Corinthians to accuse her of their murder, and she defended herself by an ingenious piece of rhetorical logic : " Suppose that I had killed them. Then it would have been a blunder not to slay their father Jason also. This you know I have not done. Hence I have not murdered my children either." Just as Carcinus there smoothed away what was felt to be too dreadful in Eu- ripides, so in CEdipus he appears 4 to have dealt with the improbabilities which cling to CEdipus Tyrannus. He excelled, moreover, in the portrayal of passion : Cercyon, struggling with horrified grief in Carcinus' A/ope, is cited by Aristotle. 5 The sErope too had sensational success. That bloodthirsty savage Alexander, tyrant of Pherse, was so moved by the emotion wherewith the actor Theodorus performed his part, that he burst into tears. 6 Two points in his actual fragments strike a modern 1 Poetic, 14S4&- 2 I 4SS '- * Rhetoric, II, 14000. 4 Ibid. 14176, but the passage is obscure. 6 Eth. Nic. 1 1 50^, 10. 6 /Elian, V.H. XIV, 40. 36 GREEK TRAGEDY reader. The first is a curious flatness of style noticeable in the one fairly long passage ; every word seems to be a second-best. The opening lines will be sufficient : &T)T)fJ.Tp6s 7TOT* UppTJTOV KOplJV H\ovrtava Kpv(piois 6.pirdK\qt \66va. To turn from this dingy verbiage to his amazing brilliance in epigram is like passing from an auctioneer's showroom into a lighthouse. (The difference, we note, is between narrative and " rhetoric".) Such a sentence as ovScts enawov rj&ovals eVnfcraro ("no man ever won praise by his pleasures ") positively bewilders by its glitter. It is perhaps not absolutely perfect: its miracu- lous ease might allow a careless reader to pass it by ; but that is a defect which Carcinus shares with most masters of epigram, notably with Terence and Congreve. More substantial is the wit of this fragment : vat'po) v (pdovovvra, TOVT' fl8u>s, on a p.6vov 8iKmov Z>v Troiel (fidovos yap avroxpTfiM TOVS n " I rejoice to see that you harbour spite, for I know that of all its effects there is one that is just it straightway stings those who cherish it." One notices the exquisite skill which has inserted the second line, serving admir- ably to prepare for and throw into relief the vigorous third verse. THEODECTES of Phaselis enjoyed a brilliant career. During his forty-one years he was a pupil of Plato, Iso- crates, and Aristotle, obtained great distinction as an orator (Cicero 1 praises him), produced fifty plays, and obtained the first prize at eight of the thirteen contests in which he competed. Alexander the Great decked his statue with garlands in memory of the days when they had studied together under Aristotle. That philosopher quotes him several times, and in particular pays Theodectes the high honour of coupling him with 1 Orator^ 51. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 37 Sophocles ; the examples which he gives 1 of peripeteia are the (Edipus Tyrannus and the Lynceus of Theodectes. The same drama is used 2 to exemplify another vital point, the difference between Complication and Denoue- ment. He was doubtless a brilliantly able man and a popular dramatist with a notable talent for concocting plots. But all that we can now see in his remains is a feeble copy of Euripides, though he was, to be sure, audacious enough to place Philoctetes' wound in the hand instead of the foot for the sake of gracefulness, one may imagine. For the rest, we possess a curious speech made by some one ignorant of letters, who de- scribes 3 as a picture the name " Theseus " this idea is taken bodily from Euripides and sundry sententious remarks, one of which surely deserves immortality as reaching the limit of pompous common-place : Widely through Greece hath this tradition spread O aged man, and ancient is the saw : The hap of mortals is uncertain ever. Mention should be made of DIOGENES and CRATES the philosophers, who wrote plays not for production, but for the study, as propagandist pamphlets. They may none the less have been excellent plays, like the Justice of Mr. Galsworthy. Very little remains on which an opinion can be founded. One vigorous line of Diogenes catches the attention: " I would rather have a drop of luck than a barrel of brains ".* A more remarkable dramatist was MOSCHION, whose precise importance it is hard to estimate, though he is deeply interesting to the historian of tragedy. For on the one hand, he was probably not popular nothing is known of his life, 5 and Stobseus is practically the only writer who quotes him. On the other hand, he is the 1 Poetic, I4$za. * Ibid. 145 5*5. 3 " First there came a circle with a dot in the middle," etc. 4 $eA ^schylus his Persa ; and his contemporary Theodectes composed a tragedy Mausolus in glorification of the deceased king of Caria. But all four were pieces d } occasion. Moschion alone practised genuine historical drama : he went according to custom into the past for his material, but chose great events of real history, not legend. 1 His Themistocles dealt with the battle of Salamis ; we possess one brief remnant thereof, in which (as it seems) a messenger compares the victory of the small Greek force to the devastation wrought by a small axe in a great pine- forest. The Men of Pherce appears 2 to have depicted the brutality of Alexander, prince of Pherse, who refused burial to Polyphron. These " burial-passages " include Moschion's most remarkable fragment, a fine description in thirty-three lines describing the rise of civilization. The versifica- tion is undesirably smooth throughout there is not a single resolved foot. Like a circumspect rationalist, Moschion offers three alternative reasons, favouring none, for the progress made by man : some great teacher such as Prometheus, the Law of Nature (dz/ay/oy), the long slow experience (rpiftij) of the whole race. His style here is vigorous but uneven ; after dignified lines which somewhat recall ^schylus we find a sudden drop to bald prose : 6 S' dcr^ev^s ty TO>V apeLvoixov fiopd : 3 "the weak were the food of the strong ". It is convenient to mention here a remarkable satyric drama, produced about 324 B.C., the Agen* of 1 We have only one title ( Telephus) which implies a legendary theme. a Meineke suggests that the subject is an incident related by Xeno- phon, Hellenica, VI, iv. 33, 34. 3 He might at least have written rots dpfi 4 The meaning of this name is unknown. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 39 which seventeen consecutive lines survive. This play was produced during the Dionysiac festival in the camp of Alexander on the banks of the Hydaspes or Jhelum, in the Punjaub. Its subject was the escapades of Harpalus, who had revolted from Alexander and fled to Athens. The author is said 1 to have been either Python of Catana or Byzantium, or the Great Alexander himself. No doubt it was an elaborate " squib " full of racy topical allusions. Were it not that Athenaeus calls it a " satyric playlet" 2 we might take the fragment as part of a comedy. But about this time satyric drama tended to become a form of personal attack a dramatic " satire ". Thus one Mimnermus, whose date is un- known, wrote a play against doctors 3 ; Lycophron and Sositheus, both members of the Alexandrian " Pleiad," attacked individual philosophers, the former writing a Menedemus which satirized the gluttony and drunken- ness of the amiable founder of the Eretrian school, the latter ridiculing the disciples whom the " folly of Cleanthes " drove like cattle an insult which the audience resented and damned the play. 4 The third century saw a great efflorescence of theatrical activity in Alexandria. Under Ptolemy II (285-247 B.C.), that city became the centre of world- culture as it already was of commerce. All artistic forms were protected and rewarded with imperial liberality. The great library became one of the wonders of the world, and the Dionysiac festivals were performed with sedulous magnificence. Among the many writers of tragedy seven were looked on as form- ing a class by themselves the famous Pleiad ("The Constellation of Seven "). Only five names of these are certain Philiscus, Homerus, Alexander, Lycophron, and Sositheus; for the other two "chairs" various Athenaeus XIII, 595 F. 2 He uses the diminutive 3 Kara larpatv (Stobaeus, IO2, 3). He was thus a precursor of Moliere and Mr. Bernard Shaw. 4 Diogenes Laertius, VII, 173. 40 GREEK TRAGEDY names are found in our authorities : Sosiphanes, Dionysiades, /Eantides, Euphronius. Nor can we be sure that all these men worked at Alexandria. 1 That the splendour of the city and Ptolemy's magnificent patronage should have drawn the leading men of art, letters, and science to the world's centre, is a natural assumption and indeed the fact : Theocritus the idyllist, Euclid the geometer, Callimachus the poet and scholar, certainly lived there. Of the Pleiad, only three are known to have worked in Alexandria : Lycophron, to whom Ptolemy entrusted that section of the royal library which embraced Comedy, Alexander, who superin- tended Tragedy, and Philiscus the priest of Dionysus. Homerus may have passed all his career in Byzantium, which later possessed a statue of him, and Sositheus was apparently active at Athens. LYCOPHRON'S Menedemus has already been mentioned. His fame now rests upon the extant poem Alexandra, in high repute both in ancient and in modern times for its obscurity. But SOSITHEUS is the most interesting of the galaxy. We may still read twenty-one lines from his satyric drama Daphnis or Lityerses, describing with grim vigour the ghoulish harvester Lityerses who made his visitors reap with him, finally beheading them and binding up the corpses in sheaves. Sositheus made his mark, indeed, less in tragedy than in satyric writing : he turned from the tendency of his day which made this genre a form of satire, and went back to the antique manner. SOSIPHANES, finally, deserves mention for a remarkable fragment : 2) 8v(TTV)(fls p.fV TToXXa, TTCLVpa 8' oA/3tOl /Sporoi, Tt (Tfp.vvvfcr6f Tois ff-ovciXeTo: * t. > - S. < I '/I ' T)V O (VTVXtjTC, fJLTJOtV OVTfS V0fQ)S wr ovpava> (povfrf, TOV f nvpiov A.18r]v irapfarSyr* ov^ opart ir\T)criov. " O mortal men, whose misery is so manifold, whose joys so few, why plume yourselves on power which one day 1 This point is made by Bernhardy, Grundriss der Gr. Litteratur II, ii. p. 72. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 41 gives and one day destroys ? If ye find prosperity, straightway, though ye are naught, your pride rises high as heaven, and ye see not your master death at your elbow " a curiously close parallel with the celebrated outburst in Measure for Measure. We observe the Euripidean versification, though Sosiphanes " flourished " two centuries 1 after the master's birth, and though between the two, in men like Moschion, Carcinus, and Chaeremon, we find distinct flatness of versification. The fourth-century poets, however second-rate, were still working with originality of style : Sosiphanes belongs to an age which has begun not so much to respect as to worship the great models. He sets him- self to copy Euripides, and his iambics are naturally "better" than Moschion's, as are those written by numerous able scholars of our own day. After the era of the Pleiad, Greek tragedy for us to all intents and purposes comes to an end. New dramas seem to have been produced down to the time of Hadrian, who died in A.D. 138, and theatrical entertainments were immensely popular throughout later antiquity, as vase- paintings show, besides countless allusions in literature. B ut our fragments are exceedingly meagre. One tragedy has been preserved by its subject the famous Christus Patiens (Xptcrro? natr^cov), which portrayed the Pas- sion. It is the longest and the worst of all Greek plays, and consists largely of a repellent cento snippets from Euripides pieced together and eked out by bad iambics of the author's own. The result is traditionally, but wrongly, attributed to Gregory of Nazianzus (born probably in A.D. 330). Its only value is that it is often useful in determining the text of Euripides. It would >e useless to enumerate all the poetasters of these later centuries whose names are recorded. In this chapter we have constantly referred to the Poetic of Aristotle, and it will be well at this point to 1 His date is not, however, certain, and there is some reason to assign his floruit to the time of Alexander the Great. 42 GREEK TRAGEDY summarize his view of the nature, parts, and aim of tragedy. Before doing so, however, we must be clear upon two points : the standpoint of his criticism and the value of his evidence. It was long the habit to take this work as a kind of Bible of poetical criticism, to accept with blind devotion any statements made therein, or even alleged l to be made therein, as constituting rules for all playwrights for ever. Now, as to the former point, the nature of his criticism, it is simply to explain how good tragedies were as a fact written. He takes the work of contemporary and earlier playwrights, and in the light of this, together with his own strong com- mon sense, aesthetic sensibility, and private tempera- ment, tells how he himself (for example) would write a tragedy. On the one hand, could he have read Macbeth then, he would have condemned it ; on the other, could he read it now as a modern man, he would approve it. As to the second point, the value of his evidence, we must distinguish carefully between the facts which he reports and his comment thereon. The latter we should study with the respect due to his vast merits ; but he is not infallible. When, for instance, he writes that " even a woman may be good, and also a slave ; though the woman may be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless," 2 and blames Euripides because " Iphigenia the suppliant in no way resembles her later self," 8 we shall regard him less as helping us than as dating himself. But as to the objective facts which he records he must be looked on as for us infallible. 4 He 1 The most amazing example is that of the " Three Unities " those of Action, Time, and Place of which such a vast amount has been heard and which ruled tyrannically over French " classical " tragedy. It is diffi- cult to believe that Aristotle never mentions the " Three Unities ". On the Unity of Action he has, of course, much to say ; the Unity of Time is dis- missed in one casual sentence. As to the Unity of Place there is not a word. (It is signally violated in the Eumenides and the Ajax.) * Poetic, 1454^. 8 Ibid. 4 See Wilamowitz-Moellendorff's magnificent Einleitung in die griechischc Tragodie, pp. 48- 5 1 (e.g. "nicht mehr Aristoteles der aesthetiker sondern Aristoteles der historiker ist der ausgangspunkt unserer be- trachtung " and " unser fundament ist und bleibt was in der poetik steht "). LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 43 lived in or close to the periods of which he writes ; he commanded a vast array of documents now lost to us ; he was strongly desirous of ascertaining the facts ; his temperament and method were keenly scientific, his industry prodigious. We may, and should, discuss his opinions ; his facts we cannot dispute. The reader will be able to appreciate for himself the statement which follows. Aristotle's definition of tragedy runs thus: " Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude ; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play ; in the form of action, not of narrative ; through pity and fear effect- ing the proper purgation of these emotions V Adequate discussion of this celebrated passage is here impossible ; only two points can be made. Firstly, the definition plainly applies to Greek Tragedy alone and as under- stood by Aristotle : we observe the omission of what seems to us vital the fact that tragedy depicts the col- lision of opposing principles as conveyed by the collision of personalities and the insertion of Greek peculiarities since, as he goes on to explain, by " language embel- lished" he means language which includes song. Secondly, the famous dictum concerning "purgation" (catharsis) is now generally understood as meaning, not " purification " or " edification " of our pity and fear, but as a medical metaphor signifying that these emotions are purged out of our spirit. Further light on the nature of tragedy he gives by comparing it with three other classes of literature. " Comedy aims at representing men as worse, Tragedy as better than in actual life." 2 In another place he contrasts tragedy with history : " It is not the function 1 Poetic, 1449^ ' f o\>v TpaycaSta fj-iprjcris 7rpd(Ci>s (rirovftaias ical reXeiaj fifyfdos eyovoTjr, f)8vcrp.(v Xoya> ^wptf ecaoTv eiSaJi/ iv rails /iopt'otf, 8pa>vTO>v (cat ov 81 dirayytXias, 81 (\tov KOI (po/Sov irtpaivovaa rrjv r&tv TOIOVTW J 14480. 44 GREEK TRAGEDY of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen what is possible according to the law of proba- bility or necessity. The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose. . . . The true difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history : for poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular." Our imperfect text of the treatise ends with a more elaborate comparison between Tragedy and Epic, where- in Aristotle combats the contemporary view 2 that "epic poetry is addressed to a cultivated audience, who do not need gesture ; Tragedy to an inferior public. Being then unrefined, it is evidently the lower of the two." His own verdict is that, since tragedy has all the epic elements, adds to these music and scenic effects, shows vividness in reading as well as in representation, attains its end within narrower limits, and shows greater unity of effect, it is the higher art. 3 In various portions of the Poetic he gives us the features of Tragedy, following three independent lines of analysis : I. On the aesthetic line he discusses the elements of a tragedy : plot, character, thought, diction, scenery, and song. Of the last three he has little to say. But on one of them he makes an interesting remark. " Third in order is Thought that is, the faculty of saying what is possible and pertinent in given cir- cumstances. . . . The older poets made their char- acters speak the language of civic life ; the poets of our time, the language of the rhetoricians." 4 This prophesies from afar of Seneca and his like. As for character, it must be good, appropriate, true to life, and consistent. Concerning Plot, which he rightly calls " the soul of a tragedy," 6 Aristotle is of course far more copious. The salient points alone can be set down here : 1 145 1, b. 2 14620. 3 14623, b. (The phrasing in the summary above is borrowed from Butcher.) See further 1449^. 4 1450**. 8 1 4500. LITERARY HISTORY OF GREEK TRAGEDY 45 (a) " The proper magnitude is comprised within such limits, that the sequence of events, according to the law of probability or necessity, will admit of a change from bad fortune to good, or from good fortune to bad." 1 (b) " The plot . . . must imitate one action and that a whole, the structural union of the parts being such that if anyone of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed." 2 A tragedy must be an organism. It therefore follows that "of all plots and actions the episodic are the worst . . . in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without probable or necessary sequence ", 3 He is recommending the " Unity of Action ". (c) " Plots are either Simple or Complex. . . . An action ... I call Simple, when the change of fortune takes place without Reversal (or Recoil) of the Action and without Recognition. A Complex Action is one in which the change is accompanied by such Reversal, or by Recognition, or by both." 4 Reversal we shall meet again. By Recognition Aristotle means not merely such Recognition-scenes as we find in the crisis of the Iphigenia in Tauris (though such are the best) but " a change from ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons destined by the poet for good or bad fortune ". 5 (d) "Two parts, then, of the plot Reversal and Recognition turn upon surprises. A third part is the Tragic Incident. The Tragic Incident is a dis- tinctive or painful action, such as death on the stage, bodily agony, wounds, and the like." 6 In the words " death on the stage " or " before the audience " (the phrase 7 has no bearing on the stage-controversy), Aristotle casually but completely overthrows another critical convention, that in ancient Tragedy deaths take place only "behind the scenes". In the extant 1 14510. a 14510. 4 14520. 6 14520. 7 01 tv Tw <^>ai/epo> Odvarot. 46 GREEK TRAGEDY plays, not only do Alcestis and Hippolytus "die on the stage " in their litters, but Ajax falls upon his sword. (e) The best subject of Tragedy is the change from good fortune to bad in the life of some eminent man not conspicuously good and just, whose misfortune, however, is due not to wickedness but to some error or weakness. 1 (f) The poet " may not indeed destroy the frame- work of the received legends the fact, for instance, that Clytaemnestra was slain by Orestes and Eriphyle by Alcmseon but he ought to show invention of his own, and skilfully handle the traditional material ". 2 This injunction was obeyed beforehand by all the three Athenian masters ; it is especially important to re- member it when studying Euripides. (g) "The unravelling of the plot . . . must arise out of the plot itself ; it must not be brought about by the Deus ex Machina, as in the Medea. . . . The Deus ex Machina should be employed only for events external to the drama for antecedent or subsequent events, which lie beyond the range of human knowledge." 3 This vital criticism will be considered later, when we discuss the Pkiloctetes* of Sophocles and the Euripidean drama. 5 (A) " Within the action there must be nothing ir- rational. If the irrational cannot be excluded, it should be outside the scope of the tragedy. Such is the irrational element in the CEdipus of Sophocles." e Aristotle means certain strange data in the CEdipus Tyrannus the fact that neither CEdipus nor Jocasta has learnt earlier about the past, and so forth. II. On the purely literary line he tells us the parts : 7 8 1453*- s I 454, 4 pp. 163-5^. 'PR- BIB'S- " 1454**, 7 1452^ ; (TTIV 8( irpo\oyos p.tv ptpos oAov Tpay ptraf-v oXuv ^opKcwv /icXcov, fo8os 8( p.(pos oAof rpayu8ias p.(8' o OVK (cm \opov fifXoy, %opiKOv Se irapo&os TI irparrrj At'^t? 0X17 ^opov, OTatrt/iov 8f /xtXor %opov TO ilvtv dvairaioTOV nal KOIVOS \opov /a8es). In most theatres a longitudinal gallery O, O, O, was made for further convenience in getting to the seats. In the strictly Greek type the front line of " stage-build- ings" never encroached on the circle of the orchestra. But these theatres were used in Roman times also, and altered to suit certain needs. The front of C was thrown forward so that it cut into the orchestra and obliterated the passages H, H. To replace these, 1 There are fourteen of these at Athens. 52 GREEK TRAGEDY entrances were tunnelled through the auditorium. Thus at Athens the orchestra is now only little more than a semicircle, though amid the ruins of the "stage-build- ings " can still be seen a few feet of the kerbstone which surrounded the original dancing floor the only surviving remnants of the yEschylean theatre ; this masonry shows that the diameter of the whole was about 90 feet. The "stage-buildings," as we have called them for convenience, require a longer discussion. Originally there stood in that place only a tent, called scene (o-Krjvij), which took no part in the theatrical illusion, but was used by the one actor simply as a dressing-room. Soon, no doubt, came the important advance of employing it as " scenery " the tent of Agamemnon before Troy, for ex- ample. Later a wooden booth was erected, and Sophocles' invention of scene-painting that is, of con- cealing this booth with canvas to represent whatever place or building was needed added enormously to the playwright's resources. This booth was afterwards built of stone and became more and more elaborate ; Roman " stage-buildings " survive which are admirable pieces of dignified architecture. The building of course contained dressing-rooms and property-rooms. There were doors at the narrow ends. The front of the building was pierced by three, later by five, doors. Upon what did these doors open ? Was there a stage in the Greek theatre ? This problem has aroused more discussion than any other in Greek scholarship save the " Homeric Question ". That all theatres possessed a stage (Xoyetov) in Roman times is certain ; the Athenian building which in its present condition dates from the alterations made by Phsedrus in the third century after Christ -shows quite obviously the front wall of a stage about 4^ feet high. But did the dramatists of the fifth and fourth centuries before Christ write for a theatre with a stage or not ? There is a good deal of prima-facie evidence for a stage, and a good deal to show that the actors moved to and fro on that segment of the orchestra nearest to the booth. That is, the question GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 53 lies between acting on top of the proscenium (or deco- rated wall joining the faces of the parascenia G, G) and acting in front of it. A brief resume"^- of the evidence is all that can be attempted here. It is confined to the consideration of the fifth and fourth centuries B.C., to which belongs practically all the extant work. For the period after 300 B.C. the use of a stage seems indisput- able. A. ARGUMENTS FOR A STAGE i. A High Stage. Vitruvius, the Roman architect, who wrote at the end of the first century B.C., in his directions for building a Greek theatre says : " Among the Greeks the orchestra is wider, the back scene is farther from the audience, and the stage is narrower. 2 This latter they call logeion (speaking-place), because the actors of tragedy and comedy perform there close to the back scene, while the other artistes play in the ambit of the orchestra, wherefore the two classes of performer are called sccenici and thymelici respectively." [Literally, " those connected with the booth " and " those connected with the central altar ".] " This logeion should be not less than 10, and not more than 12, feet in height." 3 This, says Dorpfeld, applies to the Greek theatre of Vitruvius' own time, but has been extended by modern writers to the fifth century. Supposing, however, that Vitruvius was thinking of the fifth century, then : (a] The stage is too narrow for performances, viz. 2*50 to 3 metres, from which i metre must be sub- tracted for the background. The remaining space is not enough for actors and mutes, not to mention any combined action of players and chorus. (b] It is also too high. Many passages in the plays 1 This account is based on Dorpfeld (Das griechische Theater, Abschnitt VII) who believes there was no stage, and on Haigh (Attic Theatre*, edited by Mr. Pickard-Cambridge, Chap. Ill) who believes there was a stage. 2 That is, shorter, viewed from left to right by the spectators. The depth of the Vitruvian stage was 10 feet. * Vitruvius V, vii. 3-4, 54 GREEK TRAGEDY show that chorus and actors are on the same level ; in all these cases the chorus would have to mount steps, or the actors descend. This is absurdly awkward ; nor is there evidence for steps. An attempt has been made 1 to meet the difficulties by the assumption of another plat- form about half the height of the stage, erected on the orchestra for the chorus. But the various objections to such a subsidiary platform are so strong that it is no longer believed in. With it, however disappears the only way by which plays with a chorus could be per- formed on the high stage of Vitruvius. 2. A Low Stage. Many scholars, abandoning Vitruvius as evidence for the fifth century, postulate a low stage. Their arguments are : 2 (a) Aristotle in the fourth century calls the songs of the actors TO, euro 1-779 crKrjvjjs, and says that the actor performed eVl rqs o-Krjvrjs, phrases which seem to mean " from the stage " and " on the stage " respectively. And though Dorpfeld would take o-Kyvij as " back- ground" (not "stage") translating Aristotle's phrases by " from the background" and "at the background," there remains the difficulty that Aristotle plainly thinks of actors and chorus as occupying quite distinct stations, which scarcely suggests that they move on contiguous portions of the same ground. (6) The side-wings or parascenia must have been meant to enclose a stage. What else could have been their use ? (c] There are five phrases used by Aristophanes. Three times 3 an actor, on approaching other actors, is said to " come up " ; twice 4 he is said to " go down ". Nothing in the context implies raised ground as needed by the drama, so that we seem forced to refer these expressions to the visible stage itself. Dorpfeld and others would translate these two verbs by " come here" 1 By Wieseler and others. "Haigh 3 , pp. 165-74. s avaftaiw : Knights, 148; Acharnians, 732; Wasps S-fro/3atV* : Eccles, 1151 ; Wasps ; 1514. I342- GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 55 and " go away " ; but there is no evidence for these meaning's. (d) The existing plays throw incidental light on the problem : (i) Certain characters l complain of the steepness of their path as they first come before the audience. Do they not refer to an actual ascent from orchestra to stage ? (ii) Ghosts sometimes appear. How can they have ascended out of " the ground " unless action took place on a raised area ? This argument is, however, not strong. In later theatres such spectres did rise from below. But in the fifth century they may well have walked in. (iii) A more striking 2 argument is that on several occasions the chorus, though it has excellent reason to enter the back scene, remains inert. In the Agam- emnon the elders talk of rushing to the king's aid ; a similar thing happens in the Medea ; there are a number of such strange features. The inference is that there was a stage, to mount which would have appeared odd. (iv) A stage was needed to make the actors visible, instead of being hidden by the chorus. 3 But, though there is no evidence that the chorus grouped themselves about the orchestra (as in the performances at Bradfield College), and they apparently stood in rows facing the actors, they could have been placed far forward enough to enable all to see the actors. Anyone who has visited a circus will appreciate this. (v) Plato 4 remarks that Agathon and his actors 1 Euripides, Ion, 727, Electra, 4 sg., Here. Fur. 119. As Haigh (3rd ed., p. 167) points out, " in the last passage it is the chorus which makes the complaint ; so that in this case, if there was iany visible ascent, it can- not have been the ascent to the stage ". a This is a strong and favourite argument for the stage ; when Haigh (3rd ed., p. 168) denies this because "a sufficient reason is ... the fact that, if they had gone into the palace, the scene of action would have been left empty for the time being," he forgets that such a departure of the chorus is quite possible. It occurs in Eumenides, Ajax, Alcestis, and Helena, not to mention Comedy. 3 Haigh "*, p. 1 70 sq, * Symposium, \ 94 B, 56 GREEK TRAGEDY appeared on an oKptySas, a " platform ". But the word suggests a slight structure : Dorpfeld objects that this appearance was probably in the Odeum, or Music Hall, not the Theatre of Dionysus ; if it was in the theatre, the passage rather tells against a stage, for a temporary platform would not have been used if there was a stage. (vi) Horace l says that " .^Eschylus gave his modest stage a floor of beams " or " gave the stage a floor of moderate-sized beams ". Dorpfeld alleges (without evi- dence) that pulpitum (translated "stage" in the last sentence) may mean "booth," and suggests that the poet assumes a stage as matter of course : he is mark- ing the advance made by ^schylus upon Thespis, who (according to Horace himself), performed his plays upon a waggon. But the proper answer is surely that Horace is regularly unreliable when he deals with ques- tions of Greek scholarship, and that he is no doubt arbitrarily combining his knowledge of contemporary Greek theatres with his knowledge that ^Eschylus ad- vanced in theatrical matters beyond Thespis. Such are the main arguments in favour of a stage in the fifth and fourth centuries before Christ. B. ARGUMENTS AGAINST A STAGE (i) The evidence of the extant dramas. This, already adduced by many to prove that a stage was used, is taken by Dorpfeld 2 as "showing unmistakably that no separation existed between chorus and actors, that on the contrary both played on the same area ". He refers to action where people pass between house and orchestra with no apparent difficulty or hesitation. The chorus enter from the " palace " in the Choephoros, the Eumenides, and Euripides' Phaethon ; the chorus of huntsmen enter it in the Hippolytus. There are other probable or possible instances. Particularly note- 1 Ars Poetica, 278 : jEschylus et jnodicjs ipstravit pulpita tignis, 8 Pas Gr. Theater, p. 350, GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 57 worthy is the fact that in Helena the chorus in the midst of the play enter the building, and later reappear from it. (ii) The tradition in later writers. It is true, says Dorpfeld, that we have no express assertion that there was no stage it never occurred to the older writers to say so, for they knew of no such thing. The later writers imply that there was none. Timaeus, 1 com- menting on 6/c/3i/3ag, says : " for there was not yet a thymele" . Thymele there means "stage". Several late writers tell us that the Roman logeion ("speaking- place" or (< stage") was once called "orchestra" : this supports the view that the stage is part of the old orchestra, higher than the other portion (see below). The scholiast on Prometheus Vinctus, 128, remarks : " They (the chorus) say this as they hover in the air on the machine ; for it would be absurd for them to converse from below \i.e. from the orchestra] to one aloft ". Now, the pro-stage theory makes all choruses do this. The scholiast on Aristophanes' Wasps, 1342, writes : " The old man stands on a certain height (CTU TWOS /Lterewpov) as he summons the girl ". The word " certain " (TWO?) implies that he knew nothing of a regular stage. Finally, if there was a definite and regular difference of position between actors and chorus, is it not astonishing (a) that there is in Greek literature no certain allusion to the fact, (6) that the older literature contains no word for the stage, the place where the acting was performed being referred to merely by reference to the booth (eVl ovopTJs and ctTro ovoyv^g) ? (iii) The architectural remains. Dorpfeld sums up his celebrated architectural researches thus. No theatre survives from the fifth century, but the theatre of Lycurgus (fourth century) belongs to a period when the plays of that century were still acted in the old manner. Also we possess numerous buildings which represent the rather later form of the theatre (the 1 He wrote a lexicon to Plato in the third century after Christ, 58 GREEK TRAGEDY building with fixed proscenium), and which belong to that period to which the remarks of Vitruvius apply. From the Lycurgean theatre we learn that there was no stage high or low. A platform for actor or orator is only necessary when the audience are all on a flat area. If they sit on a slope, a stage is more inconvenient than if the speaker stands on the ground. 1 And so, in the earliest times, when there was no sloping auditorium, Thespis, for example, performed upon a cart. In Italy the slope came into use only late, and the stage had been widely adopted before that time for there was no chorus to provide for. When the Greek theatre was introduced into Italy, the Roman form was invented. They did not abandon their own stage, but divided the Greek orchestra into two parts of different height. The farther half, now superfluous (the chorus having vanished) could be used for spectators or gladiators. This portion was (in earlier theatres of the true Greek type) excavated and filled with fresh seats. The stage was, of course, not made higher than the lowest eyes. The nature of the proscenium in Greek theatres was not suitable for the supporting wall of a stage. It would be absurd to see a temple in the air above a colonnade. 2 Again, it was impossible to act on top of the proscenium. The fear of falling, when the actor wore a mask and was forced to approach the edge in order to be well seen by the lowest spectators, would spoil his acting. Finally, why was the proscenium-front not a tangent of the orchestra circle? It should have been brought as far forward as possible if they acted on top of it. To sum up. The orchestra in the earliest period was the place of the chorus and the actors. It kept 1 Dorpfeld gives various optical diagrams to exhibit the effects. 2 We incessantly see this effect in modern theatres. But in Greece the presence of the chorus performing below would force spectators to regard the building as suspended, GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 59 that function when the scene was erected beside it as a background. The chorus used the whole circle, the actors only part of it and the ground which lay in front of the scene. No change in this arrangement was made later. The actors in Roman times, of course, stood above the level of the excavated semicircle. But they remained throughout at the same distance from the spectators 1 and at the same level that of the old orchestra. How then are we to deal with Vitruvius' statement about the height of the stage? Dorpfeld suggested 2 that Vitruvius used plans and descriptions made by a Greek ; Vitruvius, in absence of any warning, taking it (as a Roman) for granted there was a stage, saw it in the proscenium ; or he may have misunderstood the the phrase evrt crK-rjvfjs in his Greek authority. But such a fundamental error made by a professional architect, who even if he had never been in Greece, must have known many persons familiar with Greek acting, is extremely hard to assume. 3 Yet the mistake is credible as regards the Greek theatre of the fourth and fifth centuries. Amidst the mass of evidence and argument, only an outline of which is here presented, it is difficult to decide. The majority of inquirers will probably be swayed as regards the theatre of Sophocles and Astydamas by two considerations : the acting exigencies of the plays we now read or know of, and their own feeling as to how the performance would look with a stage and without. It seems, perhaps, most likely that Dorpfeld is right : that there was no stage, though when the faade represented a palace or temple a few steps might naturally appear. 1 Save, of course, those on the new lowest seats, which went down to the new level of the excavated half. Dorpfeld has discovered evidence that the present lowest seats at Athens were added after the rest. 2 Das griechische Theater, p. 364. After the publication of this view Dorpfeld altered his opinion, and suggested {Bull. Corr. Hell. 1896, P- 577 sqq. that V. means not the ordinary Greek Theatre, but the Graeco- Roman type found in Asia Minor. But this seems worse than his first thought. See Haigh 3 , pp. 147 sq, 3 Jbid. pp. 146 sy. 60 GREEK TRAGEDY III. SUPERVISION OF DRAMATIC DISPLAYS The authority superintending dramatic performances was the Athenian State, acting through the archon basil- eus for the Lenaea, the archon eponymus for the City Dionysia. The archon allotted the task of producing the three annual series of dramas to three persons for each series : the poet, the choregus, the protagonist. We will consider these persons in turn. Playwrights submitted their work to the archon, who himself selected three : to each he was said to "give a chorus" . The applications were many, and distinguished poets sometimes failed to "receive a chorus". The poet's business was not only to write the play and the music, (but in early times) to train actors and chorus. Near the end of the fifth century B.C. it became the practice to employ an expert trainer. Occasionally the poet caused some other person to "produce" the play. This was frequently done by Aristophanes, and we hear that lophon competed with tragedies written by his father Sophocles. The name "choregus" means "chorus-leader," but the choregus actually had quite other functions. He was a rich citizen who as a "liturgy" or public service bore all the special cost of the performance. To each choregus a flute-player was allotted, and it seems likely that the poet too was regarded as assigned to the choregus rather than the latter to the poet. The mount- ing of plays, which depended on the choregus, greatly influenced the audience, and their expressed opinion cannot but have had weight with the ten judges. 1 The wealthy Nicias, for example, obtained success for every tetralogy which he mounted. 2 The third person with whom the archon concerned himself was the "protagonist" (the chief actor) after the middle of the fifth century ; before then it appears that poets chose their protagonists. In the middle of 1 In Plato's time this was notably so (Laws, 659 A-C, 700 C, 701 A). 8 Plutarch, Nicias, 524 D, GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 61 the fifth century a protagonist was selected by the archon and one assigned to each tragic poet by lot. (The chief actor provided his subordinates himself.) This change came at about the time when three actors were regularly employed in each tragedy and when the contests in acting were instituted ; a prize for acting was awarded, and the successful actor had the right to perform the following year. As the importance of the actor increased Aristotle tells us that in his time the success of a play depended more upon the actor than upon the poet 1 -it was considered unfair that one poet should have the best performer for all his plays. In the middle of the fourth century the arrangement was introduced that each protagonist should play in one tragedy only of each poet. Each dramatist competed with a tetralogy 2 (that is, " four works ") consisting of three tragedies and a satyric play, and the claims of these three tetralogies were decided by five 3 judges. Some days before the compe- tition began, the Council of the State and the choregi selected a number of names from each of the ten tribes. These names were sealed up in urns, which were pro- duced at the opening of the festival. The archon drew one name from each urn, and the ten citizens so selected were sworn as judges and given special seats. After the conclusion of the performances each of the ten gave his verdict on a tablet, and five of these were drawn by the archon at random ; these five judgments gave the award. In this method the principle of democratic equality and the necessity to rely on expert opinion were well combined. When the votes had been collected, a herald proclaimed the name of the successful poet and of his choregus, who were crowned with ivy (a plant 1 Aristotle, Rhetoric, III, i. 2 This is the usual term employed. See, however, Haigh 3 , p. 13, note 3 : " the word rrrpaXoyia was applied only to a group of four plays connected in subject," etc. 3 This was certainly the number for comedy ; it is assumed for tragedy. 62 GREEK TRAGEDY always associated with Dionysus). There is no evi- dence that a dramatic choregus was given any further reward : the prize of a tripod was only for dithyramb. The poet received, tradition said, a goat l in early times ; after the State-supervision began, a sum of money from public funds was paid to each of the competitors. Records of the results were inscribed upon tablets and set up both by the victorious choregi and by the State. It is from these, directly or indirectly, that our know- ledge of the facts is obtained ; directly, because such inscriptions have been discovered in Athens, indirectly, because they were the basis of written works on the subject. Aristotle wrote a book called Didascalice (SiSaovcaXicu), that is, " Dramatic Productions " ; though it is lost, later works were based upon it, and it is from these that the Greek " Arguments " to the existing plays are derived. IV. THE MOUNTING OF A TRAGEDY Scenery was painted on canvas or boards and at- tached to the front of the buildings. In satyric drama it appears to have varied little a wild district with trees, rocks, and a cave. Tragedy generally employed a temple or palace-front, though even in the extant thirty-two there are exceptions the rock of Prometheus, the tent of Ajax, the cave of Philoctetes, and so forth. In a faade there were three doors, corresponding to the three permanent doors in the buildings ; when a cave or tent was depicted, its opening was in front of the central door. Statues were placed before the temple or palace those of the deities, for instance, in the Agamemnon to whom the Herald utters his magnificent address. Individuality would be given to a temple by the statue of a particular god. Scene-painting was probably not very artistic or scrupulous of details. We never read any praise of splendid theatrical scenery 1 rpdyos. This was supposed to be the origin of the word " tragedy " (rpaywS/a " goat-song "). GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 63 such as is familiar to-day ; and clever lighting effects were of course out of the question when all was per- formed in the daylight. Here and there the persons allude to the landscape, as in Sophocles' Electra, where the aged attendant of Orestes points out to the prince striking features of the Argolid plain. Such things were mostly left to the imagination of the audience, like the forest of Arden and the squares of Verona or Venice in Shakespeare. Undoubtedly, a Greek tragedy pro- vided a beautiful spectacle, but this resulted from the costumes, poses, and grouping of actors and chorus. Change of scene was rarely needed in tragedy ; the peculiar arrangements of comedy do not concern us. Only two extant tragedies need it. In the Eumenides of /Eschylus the change from the temple of Apollo at Delphi to Athena's temple in Athens is vital to the plot but need not have caused much trouble ; probably con- vention was satisfied by changing the statue. In Ajax the scene shifts from that hero's tent to a deserted part of the sea-shore ; no doubt the tent was simply removed. One reason against change of scene was the continu- ous presence of the chorus ; when the playwright found he must shift his locality the chorus were compelled to retire and reappear. We read x of a permanent appliance by which scenery could be altered ; there is, however, no evidence that it was known in the great age of Athenian drama. This consisted of the periacti (xre/ata/cTot). At each end of the scene stood wooden triangular prisms standing on their ends and revolving in sockets, so arranged that one of the narrow oblong sides continued the picture. A different subject was painted on each side. A twist given to either marked a change of place ; the alteration of onefieriactus meant a change of locality within the same region, while the alteration of both meant a complete change of district. Thus, had this contrivance been used in the fifth century, one periactus would have been moved in the Ajax, both in the Eumenides. Another and stranger use of this 1 Vitruvius, V, vi., and Pollux, iv., 126. 64 GREEK TRAGEDY contrivance is mentioned by Pollux : "it introduces sea-gods and everything which is too heavy for the machine ". We shall return to this when we come to the " eccyclema " and the " machine ". No curtain is known for the classical age. Stage-properties were few and for the most part simple. Much the most important was the tomb of some great person ; that of Darius in the Persce, and of Agamemnon in the Choephoroe, are fundamental to the plot, and there are many other examples. 1 Statues have already been mentioned. The spaciousness of the orchestra made it easy to introduce chariots and horses, as in Agamemnon, Euripides' Electro, and Iphigenia at Aulis. Various contrivances were employed to permit the appearance of actors in circumstances where they could not simply enter the orchestra or logeion. We need not dwell upon certain quaint machinery which it is fairly certain was not used in the great age " Charon's steps," by which ghosts ascended, the " anapiesma " which brought up river-gods and Furies, the " stro- pheion " which snowed heroes in heaven and violent deaths, the " hemicyclion " by which the spectators were given a view of remote cities or of men swimming, the "bronteion," or thunder machine, consisting of a sheet of metal and sacks of stones to throw thereon, the " ceraunoscopeion " or lightning machine, a black plank with a flash painted upon it, which was shot across the stage. In the fifth century the theatrical contrivances amounted to four the distegia, the theo- logeion, the "machine," and the eccyclema. The distegia was employed when human beings showed themselves above the level of the "stage," for example on a roof or cliff. Such appearances are not common the watchman (Agamemnon), Antigone and her nurse (PkctmtS*), Orestes and Pylades (Orestes], 1 Professor Ridgeway makes much use of this custom in his theory that Greek drama originated in celebrations at the tombs of great persons. See his Origin of Tragedy ', and pp. 2 sq. above. GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 65 Evadne (Euripidean Supplices\ are all the occasions in existing tragedy ; comedy supplies a few more. Probably it was " a projecting balcony or upper story, which might be introduced when required " j 1 the word appears to mean " second story ". The arrangement would then correspond closely to the gallery used at the back of the Elizabethan stage. Similar to this was the " theologeion " ("speaking- place for gods"), on which gods or deified heroes appeared when they were not to be shown descending through the air. The arrangement seems to have been a platform in the upper part of the scenery. Whether it was fixed there and the actors entered through an opening to take their place, or whether it was used like the eccyclema (see below), is not clear. We hear much more of the "machine" (fjirj-^av^) by which actors descended as from Heaven or ascended. It was a crane from which cords were attached to the actor's body ; a stage-hand hauled the actor up or down by a winch. There are a good many instances of its use. The apparition of Thetis at the close of Andro- mache exemplifies the most customary happening. But sometimes the machine had to carry a greater burden ; both the Dioscuri appear in Euripides' Electro,, both Iris and Frenzy in Hercules Furens. ^Eschylus no doubt sent Oceanus on his four-legged bird by this route ; possibly Medea, and the chariot containing her sons' bodies, were also suspended by it ; and it has even been thought that the chorus of Prometheus Vinctus and their " winged chariot " enter in this way. But the last suggestion is very questionable. The weight would be excessive, and probably the car is supposed to be left outside, or may have been painted on a periactus. Aristophanes gets excellent fooling out of the machine. The celebrated basket in which Socrates "walks the air and contemplates the sun" 2 is attached to it ; and in the Peace there is a delightful parody of Bellerophon's ascent to Heaven. 1 Haigh 3 , p. 187. 2 Clouds, 225. 66 GREEK TRAGEDY Far more puzzling is the eccyclema. This cele- brated device was employed to reveal to the spectators events which had just taken place " within ". After the murders in the Agamemnon the palace doors are opened and Clytsemnestra is shown standing axe in hand over the corpses of Cassandra and the king. There are a good many instances of precisely the same type : the scene exhibited is a small tableau. But there are dis- similar examples which shall be discussed later. The construction of this machine is usually described thus. Inside the middle * door was a small oblong platform on wheels, upon which the tableau was arranged ; then the platform was thrust out upon the stage and in a few minutes drawn back again. Two quite different objec- tions have been raised to this account. First, it 'Seems ridiculous to reveal what is supposed to be inside a building not to come out, be it observed, but to stay inside by thrusting forth one or two people on a species of dray. But we must remember the enormous and rightful influence of convention. If Greek audiences wished to see such tableaux and were convinced that by no other means could they be shown, then it was their business to accept the eccyclema ; that in such circumstances they would accept and soon fail even to notice it, is proved by the whole history of art. We see nothing ludicrous in the spectacle of a man telling his deepest secrets in a study one wall of which is replaced by a vast assembly of eavesdroppers. The Elizabethan theatre accepted precisely this contrivance of the eccyclema. In our texts of Henry F/(Pt. II, Act III, Sc. ii.) we read this stage-direction: "The folding-doors of an inner chamber are thrown open, and Gloucester is discovered dead in his bed : Warwick and others standing by it ". Instead of all this, the old direction merely says : " Bed put forth ". In another early drama we find the amusing instruction : " Enter 1 Pollux (iv. 128), who gives the most definite description, adds: " one must understand it at each door, as it were in each house," but his unsupported testimony on any subject is not trustworthy. GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 67 So-and-So in bed". The aesthetic objection to the eccyclema has no force whatever. The other objection rests on the fact that a more elaborate tableau is sometimes indicated than could be accommodated on so narrow a platform. The most serious example is provided by the Eumenides, where we are to imagine upon the eccyclema an altar, Orestes kneeling by it, Apollo and Hermes standing beside him, and the whole chorus of Furies sleeping around them. In Aristophanes' Clouds the interior of Socrates' school is exhibited, with pupils at work amid lecture-room appliances. A brilliant scene of the same poet's Achar- nians depicts Dicseopolis' interview with Euripides, who is too busy to come downstairs from his study-attic, but consents to be " wheeled out ". Thus the eccyclema shows him outside and also aloft : how could this be represented on the dray ? Perhaps by elevating poet and furniture upon posts ? Even this is not inconceivable. 1 Nor is it impossible that the Furies of the Eumenides were arranged on two eccyclemata of their own, thrust out of the side doors, while Orestes and the gods were upon the central platform. For Pollux does say that there were three. Other views of this machine have been offered, which explain the "wheeling" of which we read as the work- ing of wheeled mechanism, such as a winch. Some would have it that the scenery opens, whether doors are flung wide, or the canvas is rolled back like curtains. In this way a considerable area behind the scenes could be revealed. This is, of course, infinitely more in accordance with modern ideas. But it will not fit all the available evidence, which talks of " wheeling in" and " wheeling out," " Roll this unhappy man within " 2 and the like. Moreover, in such a simple operation there would be nothing for Aristophanes to parody. A third 1 In fact Pollux, who is fond of making a particular case into a general rule, may have had this instance in his head. He writes (iv. 128) : "the eccyclema is a lofty stand raised upon timbers and carrying a chair" (eVt v\(i)v {ixJ/TjAoj/ ftddpov o f Trt/cftroi dpovos), "Ar. Knights, 1249. 68 GREEK TRAGEDY explanation is that a considerable part of the back scene was cut out and replaced so as to swing on a perpendicu- lar axis. Projecting from this at the back was a small platform, upon which the tableau was grouped ; this oblong portion was twisted round so that the platform pointed towards the spectators. It resembled, in fact, that contrivance in the modern Japanese theatre by which one scene is prepared while the preceding action takes place, and is swung into position when needed. A grave objection to this is that some of the groups those in Eumenides and Acharnians would be too large for such a contrivance. The best view seems to be the traditional, to which the evidence strongly points. As for the large scenes so displayed, various tolerable explanations may be found. Only one or two Furies and Socratic novices may have appeared on the plat- form, and the others may have simply walked in through the right and left doors, or even been shown on subsidiary platforms at those entrances. All other appurtenances of a performance were pro- vided by the choregus such things as chariots and animals, and, far the most important, costumes of chorus and actors. All dramatic performers, both actors and chorus in tragedy, comedy, and satyric drama alike, wore disguise throughout the whole history of the ancient theatre. The reason in the first place was that masks or some kind of facial disguise in Thespis' time the face was anointed with lees of wine was a feature of Dionysiac worship. The dressing of a tragic chorus was generally a simple matter. It often represented a company of people from the district with no special characteristics. The dress was therefore the usual dress of Greek men or women, with a special shoe, the crcpis (Kpr)TTii/ yap avdis civ yaXrjv' 6p> "after the billows once more I see a calm". The un- lucky player instead of saying yaXrjv' said yaXrjv, "once more do I see a weasel coming out of the waves ". The theatre burst into laughter, for correct pronunciation was far more insisted upon than in the English theatre of to-day. 2 The status of the acting profession rose steadily as time went on. At first the poet acted as protagonist, but this practice was dropped by Sophocles, owing to the weakness of his voice. From that time acting was free to develop as a separate profession. In the middle 1 Told by the scholiast on Aristophanes, Frogs, 303. J The slovenliness in this regard of many modern actors is mostly due to " long runs ". After saying the same thing hundreds of times, an actor naturally tends to mechanical diction. The writer has heard a per- former in an emotional crisis suddenly (as it appeared) call for cham- pagne. Feeling sure that "Pommery" could not be right, he reflected, and discovered that the mysterious syllables meant " Poor Mary ! " Even actors at the head of the profession are guilty of such things as " the lor of Venice ". GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 75 of the fifth century a prize for acting was instituted, and the actor's name began to be added in the official records of victories. In the fourth century the importance of the player increased still more. We have seen that he was so vital to the success of a playwright that for fair- ness' sake the three protagonists each acted in a single tragedy of each poet. We often hear of brilliant acting successes. In the fourth century an Actors' Guild was formed at Athens and continued in existence for centuries. Its object was to protect the remarkable privileges held by the " artists of Dionysus ". They were looked upon as great servants of religion, and were not only in high social esteem but possessed definite privi- leges, especially the right of safe-conduct through hostile states and exemption from military service. About the beginning of the third century before Christ the Am- phictyonic Council, at the instance of the Guild itself, renewed a decree, the terms of which have fortunately been preserved, 1 affirming the immunity of person and property granted to the Athenian actors. The chorus, we have seen, was originally the only celebrant of the Dionysiac festival. As the importance of the actors increased it became less and less vital to the performance. Its numbers, its connexion with the plot, and the length and relevance of its songs, all steadily diminished. Originally there were fifty choristers, but we learn that early in the fifth century there were only twelve, and it is suggested that this change was due to the introduction of tetralogies the fifty choreutae being divided as equally as possible between the four dramas. Sophocles, it is said, raised the number to fifteen. This account is doubtful. It is not in the nature of things likely that /Eschylus (if it was he) caused or approved such an immense drop in numbers, from fifty to twelve : for the notion that the original chorus was split up into four is frivolous. Is it not obvious that a poet would 1 See Haigh *, p. 279 sg., for some highly interesting extracts. 76 GREEK TRAGEDY employ the same choristers for each play of his tetralogy ? Again, that Sophocles should chafe at yEschylus' twelve singers and alter the number, and that by a mere trifle of three, is quite unlikely. There is, moreover, strong evidence that the elder poet used fifty choreutse, at any rate in his earlier time. The Supplices has for chorus the daughters of Danaus, and their exact number, fifty, was a familiar datum of the legend. The natural view is that yEschylus began with fifty, that Sophocles ended with fifteen, and that between these two points the number gradually sank. Whether the choreutae after the fifth century became still fewer is not clearly known ; there is some evidence that at times they were only seven. Next, the dramatic value of the chorus steadily went down. In our earliest tragedy, the y^schylean Supplices, the chorus of Danaids is absolutely vital ; they are the chief, almost the sole, interest. In other works of the same poet their importance is certainly less, but still very great ; everywhere they are deeply interested in the fate of the chief persons Xerxes, Eteocles, Prometheus, Agamemnon, Orestes ; the chorus of the Eumenides is even more closely attached to the plot. In Sophocles a certain change is to be felt. The connexion between chorus and plot is of much the same quality as in the five plays just mentioned, but the emotional tie and (still more) the tie of self-interest are weaker. The chorus of Greek seamen in Philoctetes are (in the ab- stract) as deeply concerned in the issue as the Oceanids in Prometheus, but most readers would probably agree that they show it less ; we can " think away " the chorus more easily from the Philoctetes. In all the other six Sophoclean dramas the interest of the chorus in the action is about the same as in the Philoctetes strong but scarcely vital. Euripides' work shows more variety. Alcestis, Heracleida, Hecuba, /on, Troades, Iphigenia in Tauris, Helen, and Rhesus all possess choruses which are prima-facie Sophoclean in this regard, though their language tends to show less personal concern. In other GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 77 dramas, Medea, Hippolytus, Andromache, Electra, Phoz- nissa, Orestes, Iphigenia at Aulis, the chorus is simply a company of spectators. Thirdly, in two plays, Supplices and Bacchce, the importance of the chorus is thoroughly ^schylean. In Euripides, then, there is found on the whole a weakening in the dramatic value of the chorus : in some instances the singers are little more than ran- dom visitors. In the fourth century Aristotle protests against this : " the chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors ; it should be an integral part of the whole, and share in the action, in the manner not of Euripides but of Sophocles ". 1 A precisely similar change operated in the length of the ode. The lyrics of .^Eschylus' Supplices form more than half the work, those of Orestes only one- ninth. Even at the end of ^schylus' career we find in the Agamemnon odes magnificent, elaborate, and lengthy. Sophocles composed shorter songs which were still closely germane to the plot. But in Euripides there frequently occur lyrics whose connexion with the plot is slight, sometimes difficult to make out. Agathon carried this still further : his odes are mere interludes, quite out- side the plot. 2 The fifteen choristers usually entered through the parados, marching like soldiers. 3 Drawn up in ranks upon the orchestra, they followed the action with their backs to the audience but faced about when they sang. Their work fell into two parts, the odes sung between the episodes, and participation in the episodes. The entrance-song was called the parodos or " entrance," and was written in anapaestic rhythm, suitable for marching. If so, it was chanted in recitative ; lyrics were sung. Songs between episodes were called stasima. This means "stationary songs," not because the singers stood still but because they had taken up their station 1 Poetic, 14560 (tr. Butcher). a Ibid. 3 This was the normal mode of entry, but the plot sometimes de- manded others. In the Eumenides the Chorus rush in pell-mell ; so prob- ably in the Bacchce ; in the Euripidean Supplices they are discovered grouped around the Queen. 78 GREEK TRAGEDY in the orchestra. As they left at the end they sang an exodos or " exit" in anapaests. Besides these, there were occasional hyporchemes (uTro/a^/Liara, "dances"), short, lively songs expressing sudden joy. All lyrics were rendered by both song and dance. Singing was generally executed by all the choreutse, but some passages were divided between them. The most fre- quent division was into two semi-choruses (^/xt^d/ata), but now and then individuals sang a few words. In- cidental iambic lines were spoken by one person, and the short anapaestic system which at the end of the lyric often announces the approach of an actor was no doubt assigned to the coryphaus, or chorus-leader alone. Dancing was also an essential feature, but both Greeks and Romans meant more by dancing than do we, or than we did before the rise of " Salome " performances. It was in fact a mimetic display, giving by the rhythmic manipulation of all the limbs an imitation of the emotions expressed, or the events described, by the song. The whole company, more- over, went through certain evolutions over the surface of the orchestra. When they sang the strophe 1 they moved in one direction, back again for the antistrophe? and perhaps stood still when there was an epode. 1 But nothing is known as to details here. The centre of all the dancing was the coryphaeus (Kopv(f>cuo<;, " top man"), the leader of the chorus ; when two semi-choruses acted separately each had its leader. As was natural, choric dancing flourished mightily in the early days, and went down with lyrical performance in general. Thus Phrynichus congratulated himself on having de- vised " as many figures of the dance as are the billows on the sea under a dread night of storm ". /Eschylus too was a brilliant ballet-master. But Plato, the comic playwright, at the end of the same century grumbles a amusingly : 1 See ppl 344 sg. ^ a toor' (1 TIS opxo'ir' fv, 6ta\t r\v vvv 8e 8p6poi, " rod-bearers ") were at hand to keep order among the choristers, who were numerous, seeing that each dithy- rambic chorus consisted of fifty men. Finally, a good deal of exuberant behaviour was allowed. Serious disturbance occasionally happened : the high-spirited Alcibiades once had a bout at fisticuffs with a rival choregus, and the occasion of Demosthenes' speech against Meidias was the blow which Meidias dealt the orator when the latter was choregus. Though an Athenian audience had no objection, when comedy was played, to scenes which we should have supposed likely to strike them as blasphemous, they bitterly objected to any breach of orthodoxy in tragic drama. J^schylus once narrowly escaped death because it was thought that a passage in his play con- GREEK THEATRE AND PRODUCTION OF PLAYS 83 stituted a revelation of the mysteries. Euripides, 1 too, incurred great trouble owing to the opening lines of Melanippe the Wise. Approval and idislike were freely expressed. If the spectators admired a passage, shouts and clapping showed it : at times they would " encore " a speech or song with the exclamation av0i ov yap SoKf'tv aptoToy, dXX' dvai dt\(i, 8ia (ppevos Kaprrovfj.(vos, His buckler bore no blazon ; for he seeks Not to seem great, but to be great indeed, Reaping the deep-ploughed furrow of his soul Wherefrom the harvest of good counsel springs. As these lines were declaimed in the theatre, Plutarch 2 tells us, every one turned and gazed at Aristides the Just. The first half of the play is in strictness not dramatic 3 at all a merely static presentment of the situation : a city in a state of siege, panic among the women, resolution in the mind of the general. The later portion gives us decisive action. The King rushes to his fratricidal duel, spurred on by the invisible curse ; but even here there is no dramatic conflict of personalities like the altercation between the brothers in the Pkce- nisscz of Euripides. Such a collision is, however, pro- vided at the very end, where Antigone defies the State. As regards the PROMETHEUS VINCTUS (UpopyQevs Seer/Ham? 9, " Prometheus Bound ") we are in doubt as to the date, the arrangement of the cast, and the other parts of the trilogy. Concerning the date, we know that the play was written after 475 B.C., the year in which occurred that eruption of Etna described by Prometheus (vv. 363-72). Further, it is usually regarded as later than the Seven owing to the increased preponderance of dialogue over lyrics. Also, the supposition that three actors are required has led some scholars to believe that the Prometheus belongs to the period when Sophocles had introduced a 1 vv. 5 9 1 - 4. 2 L ife of A ristides, III. 3 Dr. Verrall, however, in his Introduction (pp. xiv, xv) sees technical drama of the highest kind in the choosing of the champions. As the Theban warriors are told off one by one, the chorus (and audience) see with ever-increasing horror that Eteocles must be left as the opponent of Polynices, 92 GREEK TRAGEDY third actor, and so to place it in the last part of the poet's life. 1 The static nature of the drama might seem to forbid such a view, but possibly it formed the centre of the trilogy, the most likely place for an equilibrium of the tragic forces. And the theological basis of the whole series is so profound, that an approximation in date to the Oresteia is not unreasonable. On the whole, then, the Prometheus may be conjecturally assigned to about the year 465 B.C. As for the division of the parts among the actors, we find in the opening scene three 3 persons engaged, Prome- theus, Hephaestus, and Cratos (" Strength "). Prome- theus, however, does not utter a word until his tormentors have retired, and it has been held that only two actors are needed here (as in the rest of the work). On this view, Prometheus would be represented by a lay-figure, either Hephaestus or Cratos would return unseen, delivering the later speeches of Prometheus from behind the figure, through a mouth-piece in the head. But as there was no curtain in the theatre, it would be necessary for the executioners to carry the lay-figure forth in view of the audience before the action began. The true objection to this is not its absurdity ; an audience will tolerate much awkwardness in stage-management, if only it is accustomed to such conventions. But it would scarcely have harmed the play if the poet had dispensed with Cratos ; the actor thus disengaged could have im- personated Prometheus from the beginning. That yEschylus saw this possibility cannot be doubted ; there- fore he did not feel bound to use a lay-figure ; therefore he did not, and we must assume that he employed three actors. Two other tragedies were associated with this, Prometheus the Fire-bringer (Ilpo.7i#eu9 Trupc&dpos) and O \ I I I lit/ 1 Miiller-Heitz (Griechische Litteraturgeschichte, ii. p. 88) point out, also, that this play needs more elaborate machinery than any other extant drama. But it may well be doubted whether all the effects mentioned by the poet are realized. 2 Bia (" Violence "), also present, is a mute, THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 93 Prometheus Unbound (npopyOevs Avo/xevos). That the latter followed the extant play is of course certain, but the position of the Fire-bringer is doubtful. One would naturally place it first in the trilogy : the offence, the punishment, the reconciliation. But, say some, in that case one can hardly imagine how ^Eschylus wrote the first tragedy without anticipating a great part of the second the noble account which Prometheus gives of the victory of Zeus, his own offence, and the blessings it conferred upon men. Hence arises a theory that the Fire-bringer was the last play of the trilogy in which the Titan, reconciled to Zeus, became a local deity of Athens, the giver of fire. But this view has been dis- credited by evidence 1 that there is not enough matter, remaining for the Fire-bringer after the close of the Prometheus Unbound. These two difficulties about the position of the Fire-bringer have induced some to identify it with that Prometheus which we know as the satyric play appended to the Persce trilogy, and to suppose that ^Eschylus told the story in two plays only, the present trilogy being completed by a tragedy un- connected with the subject. The best view is that the Fire-bringer was the first play ; the title suggests that it dealt with the transgression which led to the punish- ment portrayed in the extant drama ; and the objection as to overlapping of the Fire-bringtrzxA the Prometheus Vinctus is illusory. The scene is a desolate gorge in Scythia. Hephaes- tus, the God of Fire, with Cratos and Bia, Strength and Violence, servants of Zeus, appear, dragging with them the Titan Prometheus. Hephaestus nails the prisoner to the rocks under the superintendence of Cratos; he has little liking for his task, but Cratos rebukes his tenderness for the malefactor who has braved Heaven in order to succour mankind. At length Prometheus is left to his lonely agony. Hitherto he has been silent, but now he voices his pain and indignation to the sea 1 See H. Weil's masterly Note sur le Promethee (FEschyle (Le drame antique, pp. 86-92). 94 GREEK TRAGEDY and sky and earth around him. His soliloquy breaks off as he catches the sound of wings, and the chorus enter a band of sea-nymphs who have been startled from their cave by the clatter of iron. They strive to comfort him, and he tells how by his counsel Zeus was enabled to defeat the Titans. Then, consolidating his empire, the god determined to destroy mankind and create a new race. Prometheus, in love of men, saved them from destruction and bestowed upon them the gift of fire, which he stole from Heaven and which has been the beginning of civilization. At this point Oceanus enters, riding upon a four-legged bird ; he is a Titan who stood aloof from the conflict with Zeus. An amiable but obsolete person, he wishes to release Prometheus (without running into danger himself) and urges submission. The prisoner listens with disdainful courtesy, refuses the advice, and hints to Oceanus that he had better not associate with a malefactor. His visitor soon bustles away, and the chorus sing how all the nations of the earth mourn over the torments of their deliverer. Prometheus then tells of the arts by which he has taught man to alleviate his misery. The Nymphs ask if he has no hope of release himself ; he hints at the possible downfall of Zeus. Another lyrical passage hymns the power of that god and expresses surprise at the contumacy of the Titan. Then appears lo, the heifer-maiden, who at the request of the chorus describes her strange ill-fortune. Beloved of Zeus, she has incurred the wrath of his queen, Hera, who has changed her into a heifer and sent her roaming wildly over the earth pursued by a gadfly. Prometheus pro- phesies her future wanderings, which shall end in Egypt. He speaks more clearly of the fall of Zeus, who is pre- paring to wed one who shall bear a child greater than his father. Then he narrates the story of lo's course up to the present hour, ending with the prophecy that in Egypt she shall bear to Zeus a son named Epaphus. He speaks of the history of this man's line, particularly of one " courageous, famed for archery " who THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 95 shall release Prometheus. lo, in a sudden paroxysm, rushes from the scene. The chorus sing of the dangers which lie in union with the Gods. Prometheus again foretells the overthrow of Zeus by his own son. Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, enters demanding that the prisoner reveal the fatal secret. Prometheus treats his message with defiance. Hermes warns him of still more fell tortures: the "winged hound of Zeus" will come each day to tear his liver ; a convulsion of the earth will hurl him into Hades. The nymphs again urge sub- mission, but when the messenger declares that unless they leave Prometheus they will perchance suffer too, they haughtily refuse to listen. Amid an upheaval of the whole of Nature, the Titan, still defiant, sinks from sight. The Prometheus Vinctus has impressed all genera- tions of readers with wonder and delight ; in particular it has inspired poetry only less magnificent than itself. Shelley's Prometheus Unbound is a gorgeous amplifica- tion of its spiritual and material features. The sinister and terrific figure which dominates the early part of Paradise Lost is but Prometheus strayed at an untoward hour into Christian mythology. Again, this play is the noblest surviving example of the purely ^schylean manner. The Oresteia is greater, perhaps, certainly more interesting to us ; but there ^Eschylus has re- acted to the spirit of Sophocles. Here, the stark hau- teur of the Supplices has developed into a desolate magnificence. The lyrics which, since the Seven, have again dwindled in size, have yet grown in beauty, variety, and characterization. On the other side, there is a development of the dialogue which is amazing. Long speeches are still the rule, but line-by-line conversations are frequent. Characters in the Supplices and the Seven talk as if blank-verse dialogue were a strange and difficult art as indeed it was till ^Eschylus forged it into shape. Throughout, whether in lengthy speeches or in conversation, the iambic metre has found a grace and suppleness which is too often ignored by those 96 GREEK TRAGEDY who come to the Prometheits fresh from the Medea or the CEdipus Tyrannus. Above all, the maturity of ^Eschylus 1 poetic strength is to be seen in the terrific perspectives which he brings before us perspectives of time, as the voice of the tortured prophet carries us down a vista of centuries through the whole history of lo's race to the man of destiny ; perspectives of scenery, as the eye of the Ocean-Nymphs from the summit of earth gazes down upon the tribes of men, horde behind horde fading into the distance, all raising lament for the sorrows of their saviour ; perspectives of thought, as the exultant history of civilization leaps from the lips of him who dies hourly through untold years to found and uphold it, telling how that creeping victim of his own helplessness and the disdain of Heaven goes from weakness to strength and from strength to triumph. No less wonderful is the strictly dramatic economy of the play. The action is slight. Prometheus works no more ; it is his part to endure. All the secondary characters act as a foil to bring the central figure into massive relief. Each has some touch of Prometheus : Hephaestus, pity without self-sacrifice ; Cratos, strength without reflection; the Nymphs, tenderness without force ; Oceanus, common-sense without dignity ; lo, sensibility to suffering without the vision which learns the lesson of pain ; Hermes, the power to serve without perception of the secret of sovereignty. Most essential of all these is lo. The only human participant in the action, she reminds us that the hand of Zeus has been heavy upon innocent mortals as well as rebel gods, and thus gives fresh justification to the wrath of Prometheus. Still more, she is vital to the whole trilogy. As Hephaestus links the Fire-bringer to the second play, so does she join the second play to the Prometheus Un- bound. It is her descendant Heracles who after thirteen generations will free Prometheus and reconcile him to Zeus ; the hero of the last drama is brought in a sense upon the scene in the person of his ancestress. Prome- THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 97 theus himself suggests to us the thought of Christ ; and yet (as has been said) the Satan of Milton is like him too. This double kinship is made possible by the con- ception of Zeus which here obtains. Under the sceptre of a god who hates mankind it is possible for the saviour of men to be a rebel and an outcast. Right or wrong, the Titan is godlike in his goodness, his wisdom, his courage. At one point only does his deity show a flaw ; he endures his pangs not as a god, but as a man ; he agonizes, he laments his pains, he utters exclamations of fear. Rightly, for if the actors in this world-drama are immortal, the spectators are not. To have portrayed Prometheus as facing his punishment without a quiver would have been perhaps sounder theology, but worse drama ; the human audience must be made to under- stand something at least of these pangs, or the greatness of the sacrifice will elude them. A parallel on which we must not dilate cannot escape the reader. One strange outcome of his rebellion is generally overlooked. Zeus had wished to destroy mankind and create a new race. That is, he meant to treat men as he treated the Titans or would have treated them had they been mortal. Prometheus thwarted this plan, so that we men are a survival of that pre-moral world which the new ruler supersedes. We are the younger brothers of the Titans and (so to put it) have all survived the Flood. Our pettiness and futility condemned us in the eyes of Zeus, who wished for progress ; but Prometheus loved us in spite of our miserable failings, and so insisted on carrying us over into the new and nobler world at the cost of his own age-long agony. The basic question must be briefly discussed the relation of Prometheus to the new King of Heaven. Zeus is here described as a youthful tyrant, blind to all rights and interests save the security of his recent conquest. This cannot have been the picture presented by the whole trilogy. Not only is enough known of ^Eschylus' religious views to make such a theory im- possible ; though the Prometheus Unbound is lost we 7 98 GREEK TRAGEDY know the story in outline. Heracles in his wanderings came upon Prometheus, now released from Hades, but still chained to his rock and gnawed by the vulture. The hero slew the bird with an arrow, and procured the release of Prometheus by inducing the wounded Centaur Chiron to go down to death in his place, and by reconciling the Titan to Zeus, who promised to free him on hearing the secret of the fatal marriage. 1 Prometheus, to commemorate his captivity, assumed a ring of iron. The authority of the King of Gods was thus for ever established. It is only in a different atmosphere that any inconsistency can be felt. For ^schylus there was a progress in the history of Heaven as in the civilization of earth. Even Zeus in the early days of his dominion seeks to rule by might divorced from wisdom, a severance typified by his feud with Prometheus. He has his lesson to learn like all others ; if he will not govern with the help of law, bowing to Fate, then the hope of the Universe is vain and the blind forces of unguided Nature, the half-quelled Titans, will bring chaos back. But youthful and harsh as he is, his will has a moral foundation, unlike theirs ; and so perhaps it is that Prometheus cannot but exclaim "I sinned "in opposing that will. Upon the reconciliation between Zeus and his antagonist, Prometheus became a local Attic deity and no more. That eternal wisdom which he embodied is mys- teriously assimilated into the soul of Zeus. This is the consummation ; omnipotence and omniscience are at one. We arrive finally at the trilogy which bears the name ORESTEIA and which obtained the prize in 458 B.C. This is the only instance in which the whole series has survived ; the satyric play, Proteus? has perished. 1 Zeus had intended to wed Thetis. On hearing the secret, he married her to Peleus, who became the father of Achilles. 3 It is fairly certain that it dealt with Menelaus' visit to Egypt on his way back from Troy. He was shipwrecked on an island and the pro- phetic Proteus gave him advice, sending him first to Egypt. See Odyssey, iv, 35^-586. THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 99 The name Oresteia was applied to the whole tetra- logy. The background of the AGAMEMNON x is the palace of King Agamemnon at Argos. A sentinel is dis- covered upon the roof ; he is watching for the beacon which shall signify that Troy has at length fallen. While waiting he broods, dropping hints that all is not well at home. Then the beacon flashes forth, and he shouts the news to the Queen Clytaemnestra within the house. On his departure the chorus enter, aged councillors of Argos, who have not yet heard the tidings. They sing of the quarrel between Greece and Troy and describe the sacrifice of Iphigenia, Agamemnon's daughter, who was offered up to Artemis in order to obtain a favourable wind for the fleet All the altars are blazing with incense ; Clytaemnestra enters, and they ask her the reason. Troy, she replies, was taken last night ; a system of beacons has been arranged ; the signal has spread over sea and land before dawn. She ponders over the state of the cap- tured city and hopes that the victors have not sinned against the gods of Troy. The old men sing praise to Heaven and moralize on the downfall of human pride. A herald appears, announcing that Agamemnon has landed and will soon reach the city ; he dilates on the miseries of the campaign, till the queen sends him away with her welcome to Agamemnon. The chorus call him back and ask news of Menelaus, the king's brother ; Menelaus, he replies, is missing : as the Greeks were sailing home a tempest arose which scattered the fleet. Agamemnon's ship has returned alone. The elders, after he has gone, sing of Helen and the deadly power of her beauty. Agamemnon arrives, accompanied by the daughter of the Trojan King Priam, Cassandra the prophetess, who has be- come his unwilling concubine. Clytaemnestra greets him with effusiveness, to which he responds haughtily. 1 Arrangetnent : protagonist, Clytagmnestra ; deuteragonist, Herald, Cassandra ; tritagonist, Sentinel, Agamemnon, ^gisthus. 100 GREEK TRAGEDY She persuades him against his will to walk into the palace over rich carpets like an Oriental conqueror, and accompanies him within doors. The chorus ex- press forebodings which they cannot understand. The queen comes forth and orders Cassandra within, to be present at the sacrifice of thanksgiving, but the captive pays no heed and Clytaemnestra in anger retires. The elders attempt to encourage the silent girl, who at last breaks forth into incoherent cries, not of fear but of horror, and utters vague but frightful pro- phecies of bloodshed and sin, punctuated by the be- wildered questions of her hearers. She tells them that they will see the death of Agamemnon, bewails her own wretchedness, greets her death, and prophesies the coming of an avenger. She passes into the house. After a lyric on wicked prosperity, the voice of the king is heard crying within that he has been mortally wounded. Another shriek follows, and then silence. The chorus are in a tumult, when the doors are flung open and Clytsemnestra is seen standing over the corpses of Agamemnon and Cassandra. She has slain the king with an axe, entrapping him in the folds of a robe while in his bath. In reply to the furious accusations of the elders she glories in her act she is the personification of the ancestral curse ; and she has avenged the murder of Iphigenia. The altercation has for the moment reached something like calm, when ^gisthus appears. He is the cousin of Agamemnon, but between the two families there is a murderous and adulterous feud ; /Egisthus himself is the lover of Clytsemnestra and has shared in the plot. The Argives turn on him in hatred and contempt, which he answers with tyrannical threats. They remind him that Orestes, the king's young son, is alive and safe abroad. Swords are drawn, but Clytaemnestra insists that the quarrel shall cease ; she and /Egisthus must rule with dignity. A novel theory of the plot has been put forward by the late Dr. A. W. Verrall in his edition of the play. 1 1 See especially his Introduction (pp. xiii-*lvii of the 2nd edition). THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 101 He finds the following difficulties in the usual ac- ceptation : (i) Agamemnon lands in Argos on the morn- ing after the night in which Troy was captured, though as a matter of course and a matter of " history " several days (at the very least) must have elapsed before the Greek host so much as embarked ; and though a storm has befallen the fleet on its way. (ii) The story given by Clytaemnestra about the beacons is absurd. Why has the arrangement existed for only one year of the ten ? Why make an arrangement which would depend so entirely on the weather? How could the beacon on Mount Athos have been seen from Eubcea (a hun- dred miles away) when a tempest was raging on the intervening sea ? (iii) This mystery, that Agamemnon reaches home only two or three hours after his signal, is never cleared up : neither he nor the queen mentions it when they meet, (iv) Thus the whole affair of the beacons is gratuitous as well as incredible, (v) We are not told how Agamemnon was slain. That is, though the poet is precise enough about the details of the actual murder, we are not enlightened as to how a great and victorious prince could be killed with im- punity by his wife and her lover, who thereupon, with no difficulty, usurp the government, (vi) What does ^gisthus mean by claiming to have contrived the whole plot ? On the face of it he has done nothing but skulk in the background. Dr. Verrall's explanation, set forth with splendid lucidity, skill, and brilliance, may be briefly summarized thus. For a year Clytaem- nestra and ^Egisthus have been joined in a treasonable and adulterous league. ^Egisthus knows what is hap- pening at Troy and has the first news of Agamemnon's landing (at night). He lights upon Mount Arachnaeus a beacon which tells Clytaemnestra that all is ready. (Her story of the fire-chain is a lie to deceive the watchman and the elders.) Agamemnon thus naturally arrives only an hour or two after the news that Troy has fallen. The assassination -plot succeeds for various reasons. During the ten years' war many citizens of 102 GREEK TRAGEDY Argos have been alienated from the king by the enor- mous loss of Greek lives. Hence the usurpers have a strong body of potential adherents. In fact, several passages which our texts attribute to the chorus really belong to conspirators. Next, Agamemnon by the accident of the storm has with him, not the great host, but a single ship's company. Finally, though he has heard much ill of his wife this only can account for the brutality wherewith he greets her he does not suspect her resourcefulness, wickedness, and courage. Verrall's theory should probably be accepted. This tragedy is beyond compare the greatest work of yEschylus. The lyrics surpass those of any other drama. To the majesty and scope familiar everywhere in yschylean choric writing, and to the tenderness which diffuses a gentle gleam through the Prometheus, are now added matchless pathos and the authentic thrill of drama. The picture of Iphigenia (vv. 184-249) is not merely lovely and tearful beyond words ; it is a marvel that this gloomy colossus of the stage should for a moment have excelled Euripides on Euripides' strongest ground ; it is as if Michelangelo had painted Raffaelle's " Madonna of the Grand Duke " amid the prophets and sibyls of the Sistine Chapel. Even more poignant, because more simple, are the brief lines (vv. 436-47) which tell how the War-God, the money- changer of men's bodies, sends back from Troy a handful of charred dust, the pitiful return for a man who has departed into the market-place of Death. Best known of all perhaps is the passage (vv. 402-26) which portrays the numb anguish of a deserted husband. Further, these lyrics are dramatic. The choric songs do not suspend the action by their sublime elucidations ; the comments enable us to understand the march of events, giving us the keynote of the scene which follows each lyric. For instance, when the first stasimon dilates, not upon the glory of conquest, but upon the fall of pride and the sorrows of war, we are prepared for the herald and his tale in which triumph is over- THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 103 borne by the memory of hardship and tempest. The misgivings which brood over the third stasimon, in spite of the victorious entry of the king which has just been witnessed, is a fit prelude to the terrible outbreaks of Cassandra. The characterization shows a marked advance on the Prometheus in variety and colour. This is not so much because three actors are needed as against two in the earlier play ; for though they are necessary, compara- tively little use is made of the increased facilities. But, while Clytsemnestra is technically as great a creation as Prometheus, the secondary persons are much more interesting in themselves than in the earlier drama. They do of course form a series of admirable foils to the queen, but they are worthy of careful study for their own sakes, which cannot be said very heartily for the lesser personages of the Prometheus. The sentinel is excellent, sketched in a few lines with a sureness of touch which is a new thing in this poet's minor characters. The sense of impending trouble mixed with expected joy, the flavour of rich colloquialism about his speech, and the hearty dance upon the palace-roof wherewith he hails the beacon, make him live. Even more commonplace, theoretically, is the part given to the herald, but him again ^Eschylus has created a real man. The passion- ate joy with which he greets his native soil, and the lugubrious relish wherewith he details the hardships of the army before Troy, make him our friend at once, and present us with that sense of atmosphere which is often lacking in Greek tragedy. Agamemnon may seem a dis- appointing figure ; very naturally, for it is the poet's purpose to disappoint us. To depict a great and noble king would have spoiled the splendid effect of Clytsem- nestra. Agamemnon's murder must be made for the moment as intelligible as may be, therefore the dramatist shows us a conceited, heavy-witted, pompous person who none the less reveals certain qualities which have made it possible for such a man to overthrow Troy. Clytsemnestra is ^Eschylus' masterpiece not indeed 104 GREEK TRAGEDY a masterly picture of female character ; such work was left to others but a superb presentment of a woman dowered with an imperial soul, pressed into sin by the memory of her murdered child, the blind ambition of her husband, and the consciousness of an accursed ancestry. Here, as elsewhere in these three tragedies, the architec- tural skill with which ^Eschylus plans his trilogy invite the closest study. In this first part, all the justification which Clytsemnestra can claim is held steadily before the eyes. The slaughter of Iphigenia, which killed her love for Agamemnon, is dwelt upon early in the play and recalled by her once and again during her horrible conversation with the chorus after the king's death. Another wrong to her is brought visibly upon the scene in the person of Cassandra. The sordid side of her vengeance, her amour with ^Egisthus, remains hardly hinted at until the very end, where it springs into over- whelming prominence but at the very moment when we are preparing to pass over to the Choephorce, the second great stage of the action, in which the mission of Orestes is to be exalted. Clytaemnestra has been often compared to Lady Macbeth. But Shakespeare's crea- tion is more feminine than that of the Athenian. She evinces inhuman heartlessness and cynicism till the task is accomplished ; before the play ends she is broken for ever. Clytaemnestra never falters in her resolution, hardly a quiver reveals the strain of danger and excite- ment upon her nerves while success is still unsure. When the deed is accomplished and the strain relaxed, then, instead of yielding to hysterical collapse, she is superbly collected. 1 Years after, she re-appears in the Choephorce, but time, security, and power have, to all seeming, left little mark upon this soul of iron. At the last frightful moment when she realizes that vengeance is knocking at the gate, her courage blazes up more gloriously than ever : " Give me the axe, this instant, wherewith that 1 This is noted by an admirable touch. Almost always a tragedy ends with words of the chorus as the least impassioned parties. In the Agamemnon the closing words are uttered by Clytaemnestra. THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 105 man was slain V It is a superb defiance ; for thrilling audacity this passage stands perhaps alone until we come to the splendid " Stand neuter, Gods, this once, I do in- voke you," with which Vanbrugh 2 rises, for his moment, into the heights where ^schylus abode. Yet next moment the knowledge that her lover is dead brings her to her knees. Cassandra and ^gisthus have not yet been con- sidered, for they belong also to the next topic the method in which the unity of the play is so handled that it does not interfere with, but helps to effect, the unity of the whole trilogy. The indescribable power and thrill of Cassandra's scene may easily blind us to the slightness of the character-drawing. Simply as a char- acter, the princess is no more subtly or carefully studied than the herald ; the extraordinary interest which sur- rounds her arises not from what she is or does but from what happens to her. She is the analogue of I o in the Prometheus. The mere structure of both plays allots to lo and Cassandra precisely the same functions. Passive victims of misfortune, they are the symbol and articula- tion of the background in the particular drama ; further, they are vital to the economy of the whole series, in that they sum up in themselves the future happenings which the later portions of it are to expound. So far, they are the same ; but when we go beyond theoretical structure and look to the finished composition, Cassandra far out- shines lo. The Argive maiden suffers, shrinks, and laments in utter perplexity. The Trojan suffers, but she does not quail ; her lamentations are hardly lamentations at all, so charged are they with lofty indignation, and the sense of pathos in human things. lo is broken by her calamity ; Cassandra is purified and schooled. The poet who in this very play sings that suffering is the path to wisdom has not made us wait long for an example. There is, too, a definite technical advance in this, that lo merely hears the prophecy of justification and the 1 Choephorae, 889. 2 The Relapse, V, iv. 135 106 GREEK TRAGEDY possibility of revenge, while Cassandra in her own person foretells the return of Orestes. ^Egisthus also, but less obviously, is important to the progress of the trilogy. His appearance and his speeches are no anti-climax to the splendid scene of Clytsem- nestra's triumph. The queen and Cassandra have talked of the Pelopid curse ; ^gisthus is the curse personified. It is through ancient wickedness that he has passed a half-savage life of brooding exile ; the sins of his fathers have turned him into a man fit to better their instruction. Again, this last scene brings before us in full power that aspect of Clytaemnestra which has been almost ignored her baser reason for the murder of her husband. This is done precisely at the right place. To dwell on the queen's intrigue earlier would have deprived her of that measure of sympathy which throughout this first play she needs. Not to have depicted it at all would have left that sympathy unimpaired, and we should have entered upon the Choephoros fatally unable to side with Orestes in his horrible mission. The story of the CnoEPHORCE 1 (Xoi^dpoi, " Libation- Bearers ") is as follows. The back-scene throughout probably represents the palace of Argos ; in the or- chestra 2 is the tomb of Agamemnon. Something like ten years have elapsed since the usurpation of ^Egisthus. Orestes, son of the murdered king, accompanied by his friend Pylades, enters and greets his father's grave, lay- ing thereon a lock of his hair in sign of mourning ; they withdraw. The chorus (led by Electra) enter attend- ants of Electra carrying libations, to be poured in prayer upon Agamemnon's tomb. Their song expresses their grief, hints at revenge, and explains that they have been sent by Clytaemnestra herself, who is terrified by a dream interpreted to signify the wrath of Agamemnon's spirit. Electra discusses the situation with her friends, 1 Arrangement : protagonist, Orestes ; deuteragonist, Electra, Clytaemnestra ; tritagonist, Pylades, nurse, attendant, /Egisthus. 2 This is of course a conventional mise-en-scene ; we are to imagine the tomb as distant from the palace. THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 107 and pours the libations over the mound in her own name, not on behalf of her mother, calling upon the gods and Agamemnon's spirit to bring Orestes home and punish the murderess. Electra discovers the tress of hair left by Orestes. That it has come from him she knows, as it resembles her own ; l he must have sent it. In the midst of her excitement, she perceives footprints ; these, too, she recognizes as like her own. Suddenly Orestes appears and reveals himself. She still doubts, but he exhibits a piece of embroidery which she herself worked long ago. Electra falls into his arms ; Orestes explains to his friends that Apollo has sent him home as an avenger. In a long lyrical scene (Ko/x/oidg), the chorus, Electra, and Orestes invoke Agamemnon to assume life and activity in aid of his avenger. 2 The chorus leader tells Orestes of Clytaemnestra's vision. She dreamed that she gave birth to a snake, which drew blood from her breast. He expounds this as fore- telling the death of the queen at his hands. Explaining that he and his followers will gain admission to the palace as travellers, he departs. The maidens raise a song of astonishment at the crimes of which mortals are capable, dwelling especially upon the treachery of an evil woman. Orestes comes back accompanied by his followers, and tells the porter that he brings news for the head of the house. Clytaemnestra appears, and re- ceives the feigned message that Orestes is dead. The queen is apparently overwhelmed, but bids the visitors become her guests. While the chorus utter a brief prayer for success, the aged nurse of Orestes comes forth, in grief for the loss of her foster-son. She tells the chorus she has been despatched by Clytaemnestra to summon ./Egisthus and his bodyguard, that he may question the strangers. They persuade her to alter the 1 On this and the other "tokens" see below, p. 258. 2 The dead man is undoubtedly supposed to send aid in a mysterious way, but no ghost appears, as in the Persce. This discrepancy points to a change in religious feeling. Clytaemnestra's shade " appears " in the Eumenides, but as a dream (see v. 1 16). 108 GREEK TRAGEDY message ; let ^gisthus come unattended. When she has gone, they raise another lyric in passionate encour- agement of Orestes, ^gisthus enters and goes into the guest-wing of the house ; in a moment his scream is heard ; the chorus retire. 1 A servant of ^gisthus bursts forth, proclaiming the death of his master. He flings himself upon the main door, desperately shouting for Clytaemnestra, who in a moment appears. His message, " The dead are slaying them that live," is clear to her : doom is at hand, but she calls for her murderous axe. Orestes rushes out upon her with drawn sword. His first words announce the death of v^gisthus, and she beseeches him piteously for mercy. Orestes, unnerved, asks the counsel of Pylades, who for the first and last time speaks, reminding the prince of his oath and the command of Heaven. Clytsemnestra is driven within to be slain beside her lover. After a song of triumph from the chorus, the two corpses are displayed to the people ; beside them stands Orestes who brings forth the blood-stained robe wherein Agamemnon was entangled. The sight of it brings upon the speaker a perturbation strange even in such circumstances. It is the coming of madness. He sees in fancy the Furies sent by his mother's spirit, and rushes away to seek at Delphi the protection which Apollo has promised. The play ends with a few lines from the chorus lamenting the sinful history of the house. The Ckoephorce is less popular with modern readers than either of its companions. This is owing partly to the difficulty of perusal, for the text of the lyrics is often corrupt ; it is still more due to no accident, but to technique. The second play of a trilogy was usually more statuesque than the other two. There is, of course, a progress of events, not merely a Phrynichean treat- ment of a static theme ; but the poet carefully retards his speed. Thus the Choephorce should be compared 1 w. 870-4. It seems most natural to suppose that they altogether quit the orchestra, returning before v. 930. THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 109 rather with the Prometheus than with the Agamemnon. We then observe an improvement if we wish to call it so in construction. The great Commos keeps the play almost 1 at a standstill ; but the rest of the work is full of dramatic vigour. It is true that none of the characters has the arrest- ing quality of those in the Agamemnon. The nurse is a worthy companion to the watchman her quaint and explicit references to the trouble caused her by Orestes when a baby are the most remarkable among the few comic touches found in our poet ; and the part of the slave who gives the alarm, minute indeed, is yet the finest of its kind in Greek tragedy. But the persons of greater import Electra, /Egisthus, and Py lades would not have taxed the skill of a moderate playwright. Clytsemnestra is magnificent, but less through her present part than through the superb continuation of her role in the Agamemnon ; her scenes are brief, like the glimpse of a fierce sunset after a lowering day. She is the only person characterized, except, indeed, Orestes, and even he through most of the drama is not a character, but a purpose and a few emotions speaking appropriate sentences. This is true even of the scene where he condemns his mother. The only touch of genuine drama is the instant where he quails before her entreaty ; but though this is real enough, it is not great. The undoubted power of the scene is due not to dramatic skill, but to the intrinsic horror of the situation. .^Eschylus has given us almost as little as we could expect. But turn the page and study Orestes' address to the Argive state the increase in dramatic force is appalling. He begins by stately, vigorous, and im- passioned eloquence equal to almost anything in the Agamemnon. The blood-stained robe is displayed, and the hideous sight seems to eat into his brain. His 1 Not quite, however. The poet is to depict a man, with whom we are to sympathize, almost in the act of slaying his mother. Not only Orestes, but the spectator also, needs as much spiritual fortification as can be provided. 110 GREEK TRAGEDY grip on what he means to say slips ; he struggles to re- capture it ; one can see his failing mind stagger from the mother of whom he strives to speak to the garment of death before him. A word rises to the surface of his thoughts, he snatches at it, but it brings up with it the wrong phrase. The horror passes into us ; this half- madness is not lunatic incoherence but the morbidly subtle coherence of a masterful mind struggling against insanity. The deadly net entangles his brain as it en- tangled his father's body. By a final effort he collects himself and declares that he goes to Delphi to claim the protection and countenance of Heaven. Then his doom settles upon him ; the Furies arise before him and he flees distraught. That such immense force should be manifested only at the end of the play, that until and during the crisis ^Eschylus exerts only sufficient dramatic energy to pre- sent his situations intelligibly, is the most significant fact in the Ckoephorce. This is deliberate in an artist who has composed the Agamemnon and the Eumenides. In the opening stage it is human sin and courage which provide the rising interest ; in the third the righteous- ness and wisdom of the Most High unloose the knot and save mankind ; at both periods personality is the basis of action. But in the middle stage the master is not personality, but the impersonal Fury demanding blood in vengeance for blood, a law of life and of the universe, named by a name but possessing no attributes. This law may be called by a feminine title Erinys ; it is called also by a phrase : " Do and Suffer " ; x it is the shade of Agamemnon, thirsting is it for blood as a bodily drink or for death as expiation ? and sending the dark pro- geny of his soul up from Hades. This fact, then, and no person, it is which dominates the play, and that is why the persons concerned are for the time no magnifi- cent figures of will or valour or wisdom, but the panting driven thralls of something unseen which directs their movements and decides their immediate destiny. 1 W. 313 : fy>o<7tii/rt nadfiv. THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 111 The plot of the third play, the EUMENIDES * Ses, "the Kindly Ones," an euphemistic name of the Furies) is as follows. Outside the shrine at Delphi, the Pythian priestess utters a prayer to all the deities con- nected with the spot, after which she enters the sanctuary. Almost instantly she returns in horror, and tells how she has seen a blood-stained man seated upon the Omphalos and round him a band of sleeping females, loathly to the sight. She departs. From the temple the god appears 2 with his suppliant Orestes, whom he encourages and sends forth (led by the god Hermes) on his wanderings, which are to end in peace at Athens. When the two have disappeared, the ghost of Clytaemnestra rises and awakens the sleeping Furies. They burst forth from the temple in frenzy at the escape of their victim. In the midst of the clamour Apollo, with words of contemptu- ous hatred, bids them begone. The scene now changes to Athens, where Orestes throws himself upon the pro- tection of the goddess Athena, whose statue he clasps. In a moment the chorus of Furies enter in pursuit ; they discover Orestes and describe the horrible doom which he must suffer. He defies them and calls upon the absent Athena. But they circle about him chanting their fearful " binding-song " the proclamation of their office and rights as the implacable avengers of bloodshed and every other sin. As their strains die away Athena enters. She hears the dispute in outline, the Furies in- sisting that for matricide there can be no pardon, Orestes declaring that he has been purified ritually by Apollo who urged him to his deed. The goddess determines that the suit shall be tried by a court of her own citizens. Meanwhile the Furies sing of the danger to righteous- ness which must result if their prerogatives are with- drawn : " terror has a rightful place and must sit for ever 1 Arrangement. Croiset gives : protagonist, Orestes ; deuteragonist, Apollo ; tritagonist, Athena, priestess, ghost of Clytaemnestra. This group- ing is certainly right, but it is not easy to suppose that the part of Athena was given to the tritagonist. It seems better to give Athena, etc., to the protagonist, Apollo to the second, and Orestes to.the third actor. 2 Probably the eccyclemct was used. See pp. 66-8. 112 GREEK TRAGEDY watching over the soul V The court of justice is now assembled on the Areopagus. Athena presides ; with her are the jurymen (generally supposed to number twelve) ; before her are the Furies and Orestes ; behind is a great crowd of Athenian citizens. A trumpet blast announces the opening of the session, and Apollo enters to aid Orestes. The trial begins with a cross-examina- tion of Orestes by the Furies, in which he is by no means triumphant. Apollo takes his place and gives justification for the matricide, under three heads : (i) it was the command of Zeus ; (ii) Agamemnon was a great king ; (iii) the real parent of a child is the father, the mother being only the nurse. To prove this last point Apollo instances the president herself, Athena, born of no mother but from the head of Zeus. He ends by promising that Orestes, if acquitted, will be a firm and useful ally to Athens. The goddess now declares the pleading at an end, but before the vote is taken she delivers a speech to the jury, proclaiming that she now and hereby founds the Areopagite Court which shall for ever keep watch over the welfare of Athens by the re- pression of crime. The judges advance one by one and vote secretly ; but before the votes are counted Athena gives her ruling that if an equal number are cast on either side Orestes shall be acquitted, for she gives her casting vote in his favour. 2 The votes are counted and found equal, and the goddess proclaims that Orestes is free. Apollo departs, and Orestes breaks forth into thanksgiving and promises that Argos shall ever be the friend of Athens. He leaves Athena and her citizens confronted by the Furies, who raise cries of frantic in- 1 w. 517-9: tcrff oirov rb tocivbv ev KOI ptvS>V firiat, " Awful Ones ". 8 114 GREEK TRAGEDY should not complacently regard the Furies as mere malicious fiends, routed by a gloriously contemptuous Olympian ; the Furies may be wrong, perhaps, but prima facie they have a terribly strong case. Therefore in the scene of the pleadings they at least hold their own. Apollo may be more right than they ; he is emphatically not their superior, his personal fiat is not a spiritual sanc- tion profounder than theirs. Neither party has got to the root of things. The Furies say : "This man shed the blood of a kinswoman ; he must be for ever damned ". Apollo says : " He has not sinned, for Zeus bade him act thus ". The acquittal of Orestes is not the solution of this disagreement, it is but the beginning ; we can hardly understand the dispute as yet We thus come to the religious aspect of the Eumen- ides. ^Eschylus is of course too sincere to be satisfied, or to allow us to be satisfied, with the fact that Orestes actually escapes. His pursuers attack not the Argive prince only ; much of their language is an indictment of Apollo, and ultimately of Zeus. It is very well for Apollo to revile them as "beasts detested by the gods," 1 but the gods are themselves arraigned. The earth-powers stand for the principle that sin, especially bloodshed, must be punished ; this demand is recognized as just by Athena, 2 and is not repudiated by Apollo. Yet Zeus, the Sovereign of all things, extends his hand over the man who has fallen under their sway by his act. How shall these claims be reconciled ? The solution of ./Eschylus is not unlike that which (it appears) he offered at the end of the Prometheus- trilogy. We are to imagine that we witness the events of a time when Zeus himself has not attained to full stature. His face is set towards the perfection of righteousness, but development awaits even him. In the instance of Orestes, the jar between Furies and 1 v. 644. 2 In her great speech to the court she plainly adopts the language of the Furies. See below. THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 115 Apollo, or more ultimately between the earth -powers and Zeus, shows that neither party is perfectly right. None the less, it is essential that there should be but one master of the universe, and the Furies are com- pelled to submit. But ^schylus does not lay down his pen at this point ; nothing does he avoid more carefully than an ending which might appear as de- sirable as obvious to a vulgar playwright, some showy tableau of grovelling fiends and triumphant goddess. The Furies themselves look for nothing less than moral annihilation * as the result of defeat. But some- thing of which they have never dreamed of which, probably, no Greek in the theatre has dreamed is in store for them ; neither victory nor defeat, but re- cognition by the power to which they have been forced to bow, assimilation to that religion from which they have kept themselves so jealously sundered. They are still to be mighty powers of earth, yet their function is to be cursing no more, but blessing only. But is this a solution at all ? Is it enough to hint at the thunderbolt, to offer a bribe of power and worship that the Furies may forget their rage against Attica ? 2 What is to become of their function as inflexible champions of righteousness, which has been the moral safeguard of men ? This duty the goddesses leave as a legacy to the newly-formed court of chosen Athenians : 3 1 V. 747 : ty/"" yp tppciv, TI irpocra) rip.as vtp,fiv. 3 Dr. Verrall (Introduction to his edition, pp. xxxii, xxxiii) explains the reconciliation of the Furies as the result of a mystic revelation conveyed not in words but through a kind of spiritual magnetism exercised by Athena when she draws near to them at v. 886 (he notes the break in syntax at this point) ; such an influence could not be shown forth in words it is too sacred and mysterious. But if a poet does undertake to dramatize the truths of religion, he must do so in dramatic form ; he ought not sud- denly to throw up his task. Several places in ^Cschylus can be found where he does put such ideas into words. 8 This appears to me certain from Athena's language to the court, but the reader should not suppose that the Furies say so definitely ; they acquiesce. 116 GREEK TRAGEDY rrr' avapxov aoroTf rfpioTtXXov(ri /SovXevw /cat pf) TO ftfivbv irav Tr6\fa>s eco " Loyalty and worship do I urge upon my citizens for a polity neither anarchic nor tyrannical ; fear must not be banished utterly from the State." These are the words of Athena ; they are also the words of yEschylus a solemn warning to his fellow-citizens ; finally, they are the words of the Furies themselves the very phrases which they have used are here borrowed and go far to explain why they consent to relinquish their prerogative. First they have regarded the Areopagus with misgiving as a possibly hostile tribunal ; then with hatred as an enemy ; at the last they look upon it with benevolence as their heir to those stern duties which must not be suffered, under whatever ruler of the world, to fall into oblivion. It is true at the same time that the poet wished, for reasons of contemporary politics, to impress upon his countrymen the sacredness of this ancient court, then threatened with curtailment of its powers and prestige at the hands of the popular party led by Pericles and Ephialtes ; and the manner in which he weaves this consideration of temporal interests into the fabric of a vast religious poem is mag- nificently conceived. What in a smaller man would have been merely a vulgar dexterity is sanctified by religious genius. It is not the degradation of religion, but the apotheosis of politics. The close of the Eumenides is anything but an anti-climax. It is closely knit to the body of the whole trilogy, showing the manner in which the playwright supposes the necessary reconciliation between Zeus and the Furies to be made possible and acceptable. The King of Heaven is mystically identified now and for ever with Fate. 2 The joyful procession of TTPOTTO/ATTOI' is the sign not only that the moral government of the world has been set 1 w. 696-8. "This vital point is admirably demonstrated by Dr. Verrall on v. 1046. THE WORKS OF ^SCHYLUS 117 at last upon a sure basis, but also that this govern- ment is already in operation and sanctifying human institutions. These seven plays are all that survive complete of the eighty l tragedies and satyric dramas written by ^schylus. Our knowledge of the lost works rests upon some hundreds of fragments and scattered mention or comment in ancient writers. Most interesting and important are those plays which were associated with the extant dramas ; these have been already discussed. Next in attractiveness is the Lycurgea (Av/cov/ayeta, or trilogy of Lycurgus), to which the Bacchce of Euripides had close affinity in subject. Lycurgus was a king of the Edoni, a Thracian people, who opposed the religion of Dionysus when it entered his realm, and was punished with death. The first play, the Edoni ('HScwoi), depicted the col- lision between Dionysus and his enemy. There was an interview in which Lycurgus taunted the god with his effeminate looks, 2 and which apparently closed with the overthrow of his palace by the might of the god. 8 The longest fragment gives an interesting account of the instruments of music used in the bacchic orgies. The name of the second play is not certain ; it was either Bassarides (Bao-crct/atSe?) or Bassarce (Bacra-a/xu) the Women of the Fawn-Skin. Here the anger of Dionysus fell upon Orpheus the musician, who neglected the new deity and devoted himself to Apollo. He was torn to pieces by the Bacchantes and the Muses gathered his remains, to which they gave sepulture in Lesbos. The Youths (Neavi'crKOi) formed the last piece of the trilogy ; practically nothing is known of it. It was the chorus which gave its name to the play in all three cases. The satyric drama was called Lycurgus ; if we may judge from one of the three fragments the tragic 1 This number is not certain. It is probably an under-statement. 2 TToSaTi-os 6 yvvvts ; 3 IvBovcna. Si) 8a>/na, /3acxt/ ortyij. 118 GREEK TRAGEDY treatment of wine was transformed into a comic dis- cussion of beer. 1 Another celebrated trilogy had for its theme the tale of Troy. The Myrmidons (Mvp/AiSdi/es), named from the followers of Achilles who formed the chorus, dealt with the death of Patroclus. Achilles, withdrawn from battle because of his quarrel with Agamemnon, is adjured by the chorus to pity the defeat of the Greeks. He allows Patroclus, his friend, to go forth against the Trojans. After doing valiantly, Patroclus is slain by Hector. The news is brought by Antilochus to Achilles, who gives himself up to passionate lament. This play was a favourite of Aristophanes, who quotes from it re- peatedly. In this drama occurred the celebrated simile of the eagle struck to death with an arrow winged by his own feathers, which was cited throughout antiquity and which Byron paraphrased in one of his most majestic passages. 2 The story was apparently continued in the Nereides (N^pT/t'Scs). Achilles determined to revenge Patroclus. The magic armour made for him by Hephaestus was brought by his mother Thetis, ac- companied by her sisters, the sea-nymphs, daughters of Nereus, who formed the chorus. The last play was the Phrygians (c&pvyc?) or Ransom of Hector ("E/cTopo? Aurpa) in which Priam prevailed upon Achilles to give up the corpse of Hector for burial. It appears likely that in the two preceding plays ^Eschylus followed Homer somewhat closely. But in the Ransom he did not. Besides the detail to which Aristophanes 3 makes allusion, that Achilles sat for a long time in complete silence, no doubt while the chorus and Priam offered piteous and lengthy appeals, there are differences of con- ception. In Homer, one of the most moving features of the story is that Priam goes to the Trojan camp 2 On the death of Kirk- White : " Twas thine own genius gave the fatal blow," etc. The fiery verse, on-Xwv oir\a>v Set- ^ irvdrj TO btvrtpov, recalls the famous line : " A horse, a horse ! My kingdom for a horse 1 " 'Frees, 911-3. THE WORKS OF AESCHYLUS 119 practically alone. He is met by the God Hermes who conducts him to the tent of Achilles. Then, solitary among his foes, he throws himself upon the mercy of his son's destroyer. No such effect was to be found in ^Eschylus. The chorus of Phrygians accompanied their king, and we find in a fragment of Aristophanes l a hint of much posturing and stage-managed supplication. The Women of Etna (AITIXUCU) was produced in Sicily at the foundation of Hiero's new city. In the Men of Eleusis ('EXeucrtVtot) ^schylus dealt with the earliest struggle of Athens the war with Eleusis, his own birth-place. More ambitious in its topic was the Daughters of the Sun ('HXtctSes) which dealt with the fall of Phaethon. A pretty fragment alludes to that "bowl of the Sun" so brilliantly described by Mim- nermus, in which the god travels back by night from West to East. It seems that the geographical enumera- tions prominent in the Prometheus-trilogy were found here also, tinged less with grimness and more with romance. In the Thracian Women (@/>i?cro-cu) ^Eschylus treated the same theme as Sophocles in the Ajax. It is significant that the death of the hero was announced by a messenger. Possibly, then, it was a desire for novelty which caused the younger playwright to diverge so strikingly from custom as to depict the actual suicide. The Cabiri (Ka/3eipoi) was the first tragedy to portray men intoxicated. In the Niobe (Nio/ify) occurred splendid lines quoted with approbation by Plato : Close kin of heavenly powers, Men near to Zeus, who upon Ida's peak Beneath the sky their Father's altar serve, Their veins yet quickened with the blood of gods. 8 The Philoctetes is the subject of an interesting essay by 1 Meineke, II, p. 1177. * ot 6(>v dyxi(riropoi ol Zijvos f'yyuj, $>v KOT' 'iSaiov trdyov Ator Trarpwov /3co^i6? ear' e'v aldepi, KOVTTO> 6pos, from his scourging of the cattle) cannot be dated. It is generally agreed that this work and the Antigone are the two earliest extant plays ; which of the two was produced first it is difficult to say. 2 Perhaps an im- portant feature of technique settles this both tragedies need three actors, but the Ajax in this respect is more tentative than the Antigone. The scene is laid before the tent of Ajax on the plain of Troy. Enraged by the action of the Greeks in awarding to Odysseus instead of to himself the arms of the dead Achilles, Ajax sought to slay Agamemnon, Menelaus, and others in their sleep. The goddess Athena sent madness upon him so that he slaughtered cattle in their stead. Coming to himself he realizes his shame, and eluding his friends the chorus of Salaminian sailors and the Trojan captive, Tecmessa (who has borne him a son), he retires to a lonely spot by the sea and falls upon his sword. His brother Teucer returns too late to save him, but in time to confront and defy Agamemnon and Menelaus, who 1 Arrangement : protagonist, Ajax, Teucer (Ajax, when dead, is repre- sented by a lay figure) ; deuteragonist, Odysseus, Tecmessa ; tritagonist, Athena, messenger, Menelaus, Agamemnon. a For the arguments see Jebb's Introduction (pp. li-liv) to the He thinks Antigone the earlier. 132 THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 183 have decreed that Ajax' body shall be left unburied. At length Agamemnon is induced by Odysseus to forgo his purpose. No Greek play gains so much by re-reading as the Ajax. The character of the hero steadily grows on us ; it is not that we admire him more, but that we feel a deeper sympathy. As he gains in clearness, he lifts the other characters into the light. Ajax is a man dowered with nobility, sensitiveness, and self-re- liance, but ruined by the excess of those qualities. His nobility has become ambition, his sensitiveness morbidity, his self-reliance pride. He offends Heaven by his haughtiness, and is humbled ; then, rather than accept his lesson, he shuns disgrace by suicide. This resolution is strong enough to overbear the appeals of Tecmessa and the silent sway of his little son ; he faces death calmly and even thoughtfully. Grouped round the central figure are first Tecmessa and Teucer, and on a lower plane Odysseus, Menelaus, Agamemnon, and the chorus. Athena stands apart. Tecmessa is one of the loveliest creations of So- phocles ; there clings about her a silvery charm which is strangely refreshing amid the turbid grandeur of the play. Tenderness, patience, courage these are commonplace enough upon the stage ; yet Sophocles has made of them something frail but indestructible, and touched her with his own greatest charm an unearthly eloquence of which we shall speak later : dXX' to"x e Kapov p-vrjcmv. dvSpi roi irpovelvai, Tfpirvov d ri irov irddot. 1 When Ajax is dead, it is she, not Teucer (as Ajax had hoped) who finds the body, and this marvel of quiet tenderness gleams forth again. She hardly laments at all ; the chorus who accompany her are more moved. So accustomed is she to sorrow and self-repression that grief is her natural element ; she 1 vv. 520-1 : " Nay, have thought even of me. A man should sure be mindful of any joy that hath been his." But of course the quality spoken of evaporates in such a " translation ". 134 GREEK TRAGEDY utters a few quiet words of noble pity, and when the sailors press forward to view the dead she gently says " ye must not look on him," and covers the body with a robe. Her self-command is so absolute that it can bend; she will even say "Alas! What shall I do ? " when confronted with a mere perplexity about the removal of the corpse. Teucer is Ajax himself without the madness and the illumination ; he stands in the same relation to his half-brother as Mark Antony in Shakespeare to Julius Caesar ; he is an ideal presenter of Ajax' claims if they are to be presented at all to people like Menelaus and Agamemnon. Menelaus is more active in debate, more brilliantly vulgar, than his brother, who wisely takes his stand upon general principles, and hardly mentions at all the decision not to bury Ajax. Agamemnon is conscious of his weak position ; finally, he succeeds in retiring without complete loss of dignity. Odysseus is apparently intended as the antithesis to Ajax discreet, forgiving, and impressed by the power of Heaven. Though but a sketch, he is a striking figure ; after all the anguish and outcry, it is the normal man who emerges as the pivot of events and saves the situation. The Salaminian sailors offering no special features, there remains only Athena, who dominates the "pro- logue". In contrast with the fully-developed beings whom we have studied in the Oresteia she is amazingly crude. The fact is that we ought not to consider her "character" at all. She is simply divine punishment roughly (but not casually) personified and given the name Athena. She gloats over the madman whom even the mortal standing beside her pities, and the only lesson she draws for him is that men must shun pride. It is natural, but useless, to call her a fiend ; she serves merely as the visible and audible symbol that Heaven punishes haughty independence of spirit. That instead of mere evolutions of puppets we have a striking drama is due simply to the fact that Sophocles is interested far more in Ajax than in the goddess. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 135 Two real or apparent defects must be noted. Firstly, we are shocked, or we should be shocked, by the actions (if not the character) of Ajax a point often disregarded, probably through an idea that his bloodshed was caused by madness. But the goddess, by so de- luding him, turned his rage from man to beast. He makes a deliberate attempt to murder the Atridse in their sleep, together with an indefinitely large number of their followers, and this in the course of a campaign. It can hardly be doubted that the doom pronounced by the general, that such a man (to ignore his personality for the moment) shall not be buried, would have met with faint reprobation, either at the time supposed or among the contemporaries of the poet. Again, the indifference with which Ajax treats Tecmessa amounts to sheer brutality. Many readers have supposed that the prince cherishes affection for her, but conceals it under a show of roughness to avoid " breaking down ". This is a mere fancy. Nothing in Ajax' conduct, and practically l nothing in his words, betrays any interest whatsoever in Tecmessa. The man is absorbed almost entirely by his sense of wounded dignity. He bids an affectionate farewell to his child, he speaks lovingly of his own parents and of Teucer ; but nothing can prevent him from escaping disgrace by self-destruction. When about to fall upon his sword he mingles with his farewells a fierce behest to the Furies to destroy the whole Greek host which has slighted him. So far as the first part of this tragedy is concerned, Ajax is a magnificent brute ; he is better dead. The second difficulty is that Ajax dies at v. 865, but the play continues for five or six hundred lines more. This great space is occupied by a long dispute about his burial, which modern readers find tedious. But the difficulty arises from a mischievous idea that the culmina- tion of every tragedy is the hero's death. Often it is only 1 In the address to his child he throws a half-line to the mother ( v - 559) an d at the beginning of his disguised farewell to the chorus he ex- presses pity for Tecmessa (vv. 650-3), but there is nothing to show that this is not feigned, like his implied renunciation of suicide. 136 GREEK TRAGEDY a step towards the real crisis. I n Ajax the theme is not his death, but his rehabilitation : the disgrace, the suicide, the veto on his burial, Teucer's defiance, the persuasions of Odysseus, are all absolutely necessary. The culmi- nating point is the dispute about his burial, especially since Ajax was one of the Attic "heroes," and the centre of a hero's cult was his tomb. 1 This explanation enables us to regard the whole play as an organic unity. It helps, moreover, to meet the first difficulty the char- acter of Ajax. It must be remembered that a man be- came a " hero " not necessarily through any nobility or holiness of his life. It was rather the fact that he had passed through strange, unnatural experiences, had even committed morbid crimes, so long as those offences were purged by strange sufferings and death, violent, super- human, or pitiable. Such was CEdipus, and such is Ajax. Greek feeling would have made a " hero " of Lear, of Hamlet, perhaps of Othello. Ajax is a man of essentially noble mould this the speeches of Teucer ex- press admirably who sins deeply and suffers strangely. That he happens to evoke less admiration from us than the other tragic figures just mentioned matters little. Lack of tenderness towards women was the rule at Athens ; and hatred of enemies, which Ajax carried to such insane length, was commoner still. But what of the lowered tone which marks the end of the tragedy ? Teucer's speech on the warlike achievements of his brother is, indeed, beyond praise ; but much of his other remarks, and of the language held by the Atridse, is mere brawling. But these quarrels bring into relief the proud nobility of the man who lies between the disput- ants, dead because he would not stay to rehabilitate him- self by such bickering. The ANTIGONE 1 ('A^riyo^) was produced about 441 1 See Jebb's Introduction to the play (pp. xxviii-xxxii). 3 The arrangement is uncertain. Jebb gives, protagonist : Anti- gone, Tiresias, Eurydice ; deuteragonist : Ismene, guard, Haemon, the messengers ; tritagonist : Creon. Croiset gives, protagonist : Antigone, Haemon ; deuteragonist : Ismene, guard, Tiresias, messengers ; trita- gonist : Creon, Eurydice. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 137 B.C. The scene is laid before the palace at Thebes, on the morning after the repulse of the Argives who had come to restore Polynices. Creon, King of Thebes, publishes an edict that no one shall give burial to the corpse of Polynices on pain of death. Antigone, sister of the dead man, despite the advice of her sister Ismene, performs the rite and is haled before Creon. She insists that his edict cannot annul the unwritten primeval laws of Heaven. The king, disregarding the admonitions of his son Haemon, betrothed to Antigone, sends her to the cave of death. The prophet Tiresias warns him that the gods are angered by the pollution which comes from the unburied corpse. Urged by the chorus, Creon relents, and hastens first to bury Polynices, then to release Antigone, who has, however, already hanged herself. Harmon stabs himself by her body. On hear- ing of his death his mother Eurydice, wife of Creon, commits suicide. The play ends with Creon's helpless grief. This play is perhaps the most admired of Sophocles' works. But the admiration often rests on a misunder- standing. It is customary to regard Antigone as a noble martyr and Creon as a stupidly cruel tyrant, be- cause of an assumption that she must be what a similar figure would be, and often has been, in a modern play. Memories of Cordelia confronting Lear, of Dorothea in The Virgin Martyr of Massinger and Dekker, beguile us so that we read that character into the play. The principle upheld by Antigone, and that upheld by Creon, ax & prima facie of equal validity. The poet may, pos- sibly, agree with Antigone rather than with the king, but the current belief, that the princess is splendidly right and her oppressor ignobly wrong, stultifies the play ; it would become not tragedy but crude melo- drama. In judging Attic literature there is nothing which it is more vital to remember than the immense importance attached by Athenians to the State and its claims. We are alive to the sanctity of human life, but think far less of the sanctity of national life. An English 138 GREEK TRAGEDY reader, therefore, regards Creon with all the reprobation which his treatment of Antigone can possibly deserve ; but whatever justification is inherent in the case he almost ignores. The truth is that Creon commits a terrible act owing to a terrible provocation. His act is the insult to Polynices' body, which he maintains at the cost of Anti- gone's life ; his justification is the fact that the dead man, though a Theban, was attacking Thebes and would have destroyed the State. Antigone stands for respect to private affection, Creon for respect to the community. It is impossible to say at the outset which is the more important, and the problem may well be insoluble. But it is precisely because of this that the Antigone is a tragedy. To accept the customary view, and yet insist that Sophocles is a great dramatist, is mere superstition ; the work becomes the record of an insane murder. On a priori grounds, then, we may be- lieve that Sophocles by no means condemns Creon off- hand. It is not satisfactory to argue that Thebes should have been satisfied with the death of the invader. Since he was a Theban his attack was looked on as the foulest treachery, which merited extreme penalty, both by way of revenge and as a warning to others. (Just the same view is held by the authorities in the Ajax.} The play presents a problem both for the king and for his kinswoman : " I am right to punish this traitor's corpse ; am I justified in killing others who thwart the punishment ? " "I am right to show love and pity for my dead brother ; am I justified in flouting the State ? " Antigone is only Creon over again with a different equipment of sympathies. That one loves his country with a cold concentration which finds enemies and treachery everywhere, while the other passionately loves her dead brother, should not blind us to the truth that Antigone has all Creon's hardness and narrowness, and especially all his obstinacy. That tenderness and womanly affection which we attribute to the princess are amiable inventions of our own, except the love which THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 139 she bears Polynices. This love is not to be in any sense belittled, but it is simply an instinct, like that of Creon in matters of State, an instinct to which she will, like him, sacrifice all else. If Creon sacrifices Antigone for his ideal, she sacrifices Haemon for hers. He shows brutality to his son, she to her sister. That a com- promise between the demands of the State and private conscience is, however unwelcome, necessary, never oc- curs to either party, and those who, like Harmon and Ismene, urge such a thought upon them are insulted. This blindness to the psychology of Antigone has led to actual meddling with Sophocles' text. In her last long speech occurs a celebrated " difficulty," namely, her statement 1 that if the dead man had been a child or husband of hers, she would not thus have given her life ; but the case of Polynices is different, since (her father and mother being dead) she can never have another brother. These lines are generally bracketed as spuri- ous because unworthy of Antigone's character and in- consistent with the reason for her act which she has already 2 given, namely, the " unwritten and unshaken laws of Heaven ". Any idea that the passage was in- serted in " later times " is rendered impossible by the fact that Aristotle 3 quotes it (about 340 B.C.) and the presumption is that the words are the poet's own. In- deed, the " difficulty " exists only in the minds of those who attribute inconsistency in a character to incom- petence in the playwright. But while illogical people exist it is hard to see why a dramatist should not depict them. Antigone's " reason " is stupid, no doubt, but what could be more dramatic? It is no novelty that a person capable of courageous action cannot argue well about it ; there is a logic of the heart that has little to do with the logic of the brain. Antigone has no reasons ; she has only an instinct. Here, and here only, Sophocles has pressed this point home, and the popular view has no resource but to reject the passage. 1 vv. 904-12. See Jebb's discussion in his Appendix. 2 vv. 450-70. * Rhetoric, III, xvi. 9. 140 GREEK TRAGEDY Whom does Sophocles himself approve, the king or his opponent ? Neither. Attention to the plot will make this clear. The peripeteia or " recoil " is the revelation that the gods are angered by the pollution arising from the body, and that owing to their anger grave peril threatens Creon's family. It is this news which causes his change of purpose. Polynices is therefore buried by the king himself despite his edict. These facts show that ultimately both Antigone and Creon are wrong. Heaven is against Creon, as he is forced at last to see- Antigone's appeal to the everlasting unwritten laws is in this sense justified. But Antigone is wrong also. She should have left the gods to vindicate their own law. Such a statement may seem ignobly oblivious of religion, human nature, and the courage which she shows. But it is not denied that Antigone is noble and valiant : she may be both, yet mistaken and wrong-headed. One is bound to consider the facts of the plot. Why is she at first undetected yet compelled by circumstances to per- form the "burial "-rites twice? Simply to remind us that, if Creon is resolved, she cannot "bury" Polynices. The king has posted guards, who remove the pious dust which she has scattered ; and this gruesome contest could continue indefinitely. She throws away her life, and with no possible confidence that her brother will in the end be buried. It is precisely this blindness of hers which makes the tragedy her union of noble courage and unswerving affection with inability to see the crude facts of a hateful situation. Her obstinacy brings about the punishment of Creon's obstinacy, for Eurydice's death is caused by Haemon's, and Haemon's by Anti- gone's. Had she not intervened all these lives would have been saved. The whole action might have dwindled to a mere revolting incident : the king's barbarity, the anger of the gods, and the king's sub- mission. The tragedy would have disappeared : it is Antigone's splendid though perverse valour which creates the drama. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 141 A difficulty of structure has been found l in the fact that Creon, despite his haste to free Antigone, tarries for the obsequies of Polynices. Why does he not save the living first ? This " problem " arises merely from our insistence on the overwhelming importance of Anti- gone and our disregard of the real perspective. The explanation is simply that Creon has just been warned of the grave danger to the whole State and his family from the anger with which the gods view his treatment of Polynices an offence which Tiresias emphasizes far more than that against Antigone ; and the community, nay, even the several persons of Creon's family, are more important than one woman. The lyrics of this play are among the finest in exist- ence. The first ode expressing the relief of Thebes at the destruction of the ravening monster of war, the third which describes the persistence of sorrow from genera- tion to generation of the Theban princes, the brief song which celebrates the all-compelling influence of love, with its exquisite reminiscence of Phrynichus, 2 the last lyric, a graceful invocation to the God Dionysus, and above all, the famous ode upon man and his quenchless enterprise, all these are truly Attic in their serene, somewhat frigid, loveliness. The ELECTRA S ('HXeViyxx) has by most 4 critics been regarded as next in time to the Antigone, The scene shows the palace of Agamemnon now inhabited by his murderers, Clytsemnestra and her lover ^gisthus. Orestes, son of Agamemnon, returns to avenge him by slaying his own mother Clytsemnestra ; he is accom- panied by Pylades, his friend, and by an old slave. Chrysothemis, daughter of Agamemnon and sister of Electra, is sent by Clytsemnestra to appease the ghost of Agamemnon, but is persuaded by Electra to pray his 1 J ebb's Introduction, pp. xvii-xx. 2 See pp. 8, 15. 3 Arrangement probably : protagonist, Electra ; deuteragonist, Orestes and Clytaemnestra ; tritagonist, Paedagogus, Chrysothemis, yfigisthus. 4 Jebb, however, gives substantial reasons for putting it later. See his Introduction, pp. Ivi-lviii. 142 GREEK TRAGEDY help for Orestes. The slave of Orestes brings false news to the palace that Orestes has been killed in a chariot-race at Delphi, so that the queen is relieved from fear of vengeance. Chrysothemis returns, joyfully announcing Orestes' arrival she has seen a lock of his hair on the tomb ; but her sister replies that he is dead. While Electra mourns for her brother he himself brings in an urn, pretending to be a messenger who has con- veyed home the ashes of Orestes. Electra's lamentation over it reveals who she is, and Orestes makes himself known. Then the men go inside to slay Clytaemnestra, while Electra remains watching for ^gisthus. After the slaughter he arrives and triumphantly orders the body to be carried forth, but when he uncovers it he finds the corpse of Clytsemnestra. He is then driven within to death. The Choephoraz, the Electra of Sophocles, and the Electra of Euripides supply the only surviving instance in which the three tragedians handled the same story ; at present it is enough to note the differences between the method of Sophocles and that of the Choephoroe. For yEschylus the slaying of Clytsemnestra is a question of religion and ethics, for Sophocles it is a matter of psy- chology, the emotional history of Electra. He is content to take the religious facts for granted, and then to proceed with no misgivings to a purely human drama. The play begins amid the bright, cheerful surround- ings of dawn and ends with happiness. When Orestes comes forth, his sword wet with his mother's blood, he is entirely satisfied and untouched by any misgivings, simply because the question of matricide has been settled for him by Heaven. He is a personified theory of Olympian religion. His words to Electra after the queen is dead : "In the house all is well, if Apollo's oracle spoke well," 1 are the summary of Sophocles' religious point of view. Carefully and confidently referring the question of this matricide to a higher judge than Man, he proceeds to his actual business. Equally marked is ^v. 1424-5. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 143 the difference between the closing sentence of the Choephoroe, " Where then will end the fatal fury, when pass into closing calm?" 1 and that of the later work: " O house of Atreus, through how many sufferings hast thou come forth at last in freedom, crowned with good by this day's enterprise ! " For Sophocles the deed is done and behind us ; for ^Eschylus it lives to beget new sorrows. Electra dominates the action, scarcely leaving the scene after her first entry. Though not a great character-study, she impresses us by the pathos of her situation and by the splendid expression of her emotions ; her lament over the funeral urn is perfect in the rhetoric of sorrow. Almost motionless throughout the long and varied action ; the mark for successive onslaughts of insult, misery, surprise, grief, hatred, and joy, she is thrown into relief by all who approach her, especially Chrysothemis, whose princely robes add emphasis to the heroic meaning of the sordid dress worn by her royal sister. She is a simple character and needs little ornament ; her devotion, patience, and courage are plain to behold. But we should note the masterly, yet unobtrusive way in which her feelings towards Clytsemnestra are portrayed. Hating her steadily as the slayer of Agamemnon, she cannot quite forget (as does Euripides' heroine) that Clyta^mnestra is her mother. After her outburst of reproach against the queen she has enough flexibility of mind to own 3 that she is in a way ashamed of it a simple touch which shows Sophocles a master, not a slave, of his own conceptions. A more subtle indication of her spirit is shown in Electra's speech to Chrysothemis urging her to aid in the deed of vengeance. All she proposes is that they should slay .^Egisthus. But there is an undercurrent of emphasis which shows * that she intends the death of Clytaemnestra also. 1 Choeph. 1075-6 (Verrall's translation). 2 vv. 1508 sqq. (Jebb's translation). 3 vv. 616-21. 4 This seems a fair deduction, not only from the whole situation, but from the pause after Aiyurdov in v. 957 ; also perhaps from the emphatic U4 GREEK TRAGEDY The other personages are mostly well-drawn. Orestes is commonplace, but the other four are dis- tinctly imagined. The tiny part of ^Egisthus ad- mirably reveals the malicious upstart ; Chrysothemis is another Ismene, with more energy and lightness. The Paedagogus reminds one of the guard in the Antigone by his quaint witticisms " if I had not been watching at the door from the first, your plans would have entered the house before your bodies V Clytsem- nestra, too, is admirable. More closely akin to an Euripidean than to an yschylean character, she de- fends herself elaborately and gives way to fits of ill-temper and petty rancour ; but she has some maternal feeling left witness the confusion of emotions with which she greets the news of Orestes' death. The sorrows and character of Electra form one of the two great features of this tragedy. The other is the stage-craft. First there is a distinct element of intrigue, that is, of plot as contrived not by the poet but by the characters. Not only do the avengers gain access to the house by a false story ; this much is to be found already in the Choephorce. There are two distinct visitors to the house : the Psedagogus with his tale of the fatal race, and Orestes bringing the funeral urn. It is to this duplication for otherwise Clytaemnestra would have been present when the urn was brought that we owe the splendid scene of the Recognition, with its introductory lament by Electra. Again, as in ^Eschylus the nurse sent by Clytsemnestra is induced to change her message to ^Egisthus in a way vital to the conspirators, so here Chrysothemis is caused by her sister to invoke the aid of Agamemnon against the queen instead of seeking to assuage his wrath. Further, whereas yEgisthus might have entered the house and been slain without more ado, Electra, by telling him that the messengers have brought the /UH of v. 974. Cp. also 582 sqg. and especially the comment of the chorus in v. 1080 (Sidvpav Aovcr' 'Epivvv). l vv. 1331-3. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 145 very body of Orestes home, induces the king to summon them forth with the corpse ; thus the end of the play is rendered vigorous (indeed melodramatic) by his triumphant unveiling of the body which proves to be that of the queen. Besides these admirable strokes of a rather sophisti- cated " sense of the theatre " there are powerful effects which arise naturally from the circumstances. Clytaem- nestra offers a prayer to the very god who has sent the avenger. Electra's wonderful address to the ashes of her brother gains greatly by the fact that he stands living beside her. A splendidly dramatic effect is obtained by the return of Chrysothemis the most "modern" point of the whole work. She has been sent away for a certain purpose, but in the stress of later happenings we forget her. Suddenly she re- appears with news the result of her mission news startling in itself, but ten times more so because of the events which (without her knowledge) have just occurred. Again, it is quite natural that Electra should come forth while Clytaemnestra is being slain, since some one must be on the alert for ^Egisthus. This gives opportunity for the terrible little passage where the queen's agonized appeals inside the house are answered by the tense answers or comments of this tragic figure rigid before the gate. The CEuiPUS TvRANNUS 1 (OtSurovs Tvpavvos), often called (Edipus Rex or (Edipus the king, is a play of un- certain date, but it seems later than Electra and earlier than Philoctztes. The plot is rather intricate and must be given at greater length. The scene shows the palace of CEdipus at Thebes. The people are smitten by a pestilence ; and all look to the king, who has already sent his wife's brother, Creon, to ask advice from the Delphic oracle. Creon enters, bringing tidings that Thebes will be freed if the city is purged of those who killed Laius, the former 1 Arrangement : protagonist, CEdipus ; deuteragonist, Priest, Joc- asta, servant of Laius ; tritagonist, Creon, Tiresias, the two messengers. 10 146 GREEK TRAGEDY king. CEdipus asks for particulars, and learns that Laius was killed by some robbers. Only one man es- caped. The king calls upon the slayer to declare him- self, promising no worse treatment than exile ; he asks also any man who knows the guilty one to speak. If no one confesses, he denounces civil and religious ex- communication against the unknown. The chorus- leader suggests that the prophet Tiresias should be con- sulted ; CEdipus replies that he has been already summoned. The coryphaeus remarks casually that some say Laius was slain by certain wayfarers. Tiresias enters, but shows a repugnance even to discuss the problem, till CEdipus in a rage accuses Tiresias of complicity in the murder. An altercation follows in which the prophet accuses CEdipus of having killed Laius. The other, filled with wrath, proclaims that Tiresias and Creon are plotting to make Creon king in his stead. Tiresias threatens the king with mysterious horrors and down- fall. CEdipus bids him begone, and rates him for a fool. " Foolish, perhaps, in your eyes," says the old man, "but thought wise by the parents that begat thee." CEdipus is startled. " Parents ? Stay ! What man begat me ? " The answer is : " This day shall show thy birth and thy destruction ". The king again bids him go. As he turns away, Tiresias utters his farewell speech. The murderer of Laius is here, supposed an alien, but in reality Theban-born. Bereft of his sight and his riches he shall go forth into a strange land, and shall be found brother and father of his children, son and husband of his wife, murderer and supplanter of his father. Creon enters, dismayed by the charges of CEdipus, when the king appears, heaps reproaches upon the supposed traitor, and insists that Creon shall die. The noise of their dis- pute brings from the palace Jocasta, sister of Creon and wife of CEdipus ; she brings about a half-reconciliation between the two princes, and asks the cause of the quarrel. CEdipus tells of the accusation pointed at himself by Tiresias. Jocasta seeks to console him by a proof that soothsaying is not trustworthy. " An oracle THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 147 once came to Laius that he should be slain by a son of his and mine. None the less, he was slain by foreign robbers at a place where three roads meet ; and the child, not three days old, was cast out upon a mountain, his ankles yoked together." This speech, so far from com- forting the king, fills him with alarm. The phrase " a place where three roads meet " has struck him. He anxiously asks for a description of Laius and the number of his followers. The replies disturb him still more, and he asks that the single survivor, now a herdsman far from the city, should be sent for. Jocasta asks the reason. He tells the story of his early manhood : he is the son of Polybus, King of Corinth, but one day a man insulted him by saying he was no son of Polybus. The youth asked the Delphic oracle of his birth, but the god, instead of answering directly, announced that he was fated to marry his mother and kill his father. GEdipus cheated the oracle by never seeing his parents again. On his way from Delphi he met a body of men such as Jocasta has described, and after a quarrel slew them all. It seems that he is himself the slayer of Laius and is subject to the curses which he has himself uttered. His only hope lies in the survivor who, it is understood, always spoke of robbers, not of a single assailant. If this is accurate, CEdipus is not meant by the recent oracle. A messenger from Corinth enters, bringing news that the people of that city intend to make CEdipus their king ; Polybus is dead. Jocasta exclaims that Polybus was the man whom CEdipus feared he must slay. She mocks at the oracle and summons CEdipus, who shares her relief, but reminds her that his mother still lives. The messenger asks what woman they are dis- cussing. " I can free you from that fear," he exclaims ; " CEdipus is not the son of Polybus and Merope." Further questioning from CEdipus brings forth the explanation. The present messenger gave CEdipus, when a babe, to Polybus. He was found in the glens of Cithseron, where the man was tending flocks, his ankles fastened by an iron thrust through them. Who did this the Corinthian 148 GREEK TRAGEDY cannot say, but the man who gave him to the Corinthian should know another herdsman brought him, one of the household of Laius. CEdipus asks if this man can be found. The chorus answer that probably he is the person already summoned, and that perhaps the queen can tell. CEdipus turns to Jocasta, who flings him a few words of agony and sorrow and rushes into the house. CEdipus turns away in contempt, for he believes that Jocasta's distress springs from a fear that he will be found of ignoble birth. The aged servant of Laius now approaches, and is recognized by the Corinthian as the man who gave him the child. A conversation of in- tensest thrill follows between the two herdsmen, in which the Corinthian is eager, while the Theban is utterly re- luctant, only answering under the direst threats from the king. At length it becomes plain that the babe CEdipus is the son of Laius and Jocasta. The king with a cry of horror rushes into the palace. A slave enters and tells how Jocasta has hanged herself, and how CEdipus has destroyed his own sight. After an interval CEdipus staggers forth, a sight of ghastliness and woe. Creon now appears as ruler of the city and bids CEdipus be hidden in the house. The wretched man asks that he be cast forth to dwell upon Cithaeron ; Creon replies that the oracle must first be consulted. CEdipus bids a heart-broken farewell to his little daughters, and Creon takes them all into the palace. The CEdipus Tyrannus has been universally admired as a masterpiece, ever since the time of Aristotle, who in his Poetic takes this play as a model of tragedy. The lyrics are simple, beautiful, and even passionately vigorous ; the dialogue in language and rhythm is be- yond praise ; and the tragic irony, for which this poet is famous, is here at its height. But the chief splendour of the work is its construction, its strictly dramatic strength and sincerity. The events grow out of one another with the ease of actual life yet with the accuracy and the power of art. We should note the two great stages : first, the king fears that he has slain Laius ; THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 149 second, that he has slain his father Laius. This dis- tinction, so vital to the growing horror, is kept admirably clear and is especially pointed by the part of the aged Theban. When he is summoned, it is to settle whether Laius was slain by one man or by a company ; by the time he arrives, this is forgotten, and all wait to know from whom he received the outcast infant. Equally wonderful is the skill with which almost every stage in the discovery is made to rise from the temperament of CEdipus. He is the best-drawn character in Sophocles. Not specially virtuous, not specially wise though full of love and pity for his people and vigorous in his measures for their safety, he is too imperious, suspicious, and choleric. His exaggerated self-confidence, danger- ous in a citizen, is almost a crime in a prince. The only notable virtue in his character is the splendid moral courage with which he faces facts, nay, more, with which he insists on unearthing facts which he might have left untouched. And the core of the tragedy is that this virtue of CEdipus, his insistence on knowing the truth, is the source of his downfall. Had he not sent for Tiresias, Tiresias would not have come forward. Had he not urged the prophet to reply, Tiresias would not have uttered his accusations. By these apparently mad charges, CEdipus is stung into accusing Tiresias of plot- ting with Creon. This in turn brings Creon to the palace. The anger with which he reviles Creon causes a dispute which draws Jocasta from the house. Then, to calm CEdipus, she gives him the dreadful " consola- tion " that oracles have no weight which first makes the king fear he may have done the deed which is plaguing Thebes. And so to the end. One exception to this sequence should be noticed. The arrival of the Corinthian messenger at this moment is purely acci- dental. Without it, the witness of the old retainer would have fastened upon CEdipus the slaying of Laius (not known to be the king's father) ; and he would have gone forth from the city, but not as a parricide ; more- over, the relation between him and the queen would 150 GREEK TRAGEDY have remained unknown. Judged by the standard of the whole play, this fact constitutes a flaw in construction. Why did not the poet contrive that the news of Poly- bus' death should arrive, and arrive now, as the direct result of something said or done by CEdipus, just as the arrival of the old Theban, with his crushing testimony, is due to the king's own summons ? No doubt this occurrence is meant to mirror the facts of life, which include accidents as well as events plainly traceable to character. At this point should be mentioned other possible faults, whether inherent in the drama or antecedent to it. Some of the preliminary facts are to a high degree un- likely. These points are three. First, QEdipus and Jocasta, though each separately has received oracular warning about a marriage, make no kind of inquiry at the time of their own wedding. Secondly, CEdipus all these years has never heard or inquired into the circum- stances in which Laius was killed. Third, Jocasta has never yet been told of the incident at Corinth which sent QEdipus to Delphi ; indeed she has apparently not even heard that he is the son of the king and queen of Corinth. 1 Within the play itself is the strange feature that when Tiresias accuses CEdipus of slaying Laius and hints darkly at greater horrors hints which in spite of their obscurity might surely (one would think) have united themselves in the mind of CEdipus with the oracle of long ago CEdipus is merely moved to fury, not to misgiving. 2 Now of the first three difficulties it must be owned that despite the palliatives suggested, they are irritating. These things are "impossible," or, if not, they are oddly irrational, which is the same thing so far as the enjoyment of dramatic art is concerned. They are, however, to be explained thus. The unques- tioning marriage of CEdipus and Jocasta is a datum of 1 vv. 774 sqq. 2 It is true that when the prophet mentions the parents of CEdipus quite definitely (v. 436) the king is startled. But this is one point only. All the other remarks of Tiresias are ignored. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 151 the legend with which the poet could not tamper. All that the dramatist could do he did he placed the un- likely fact "outside the plot" 1 and dwelt on it as little as possible. Indeed, he hints at some sort of excuse the confusion in Thebes owing to the oppression of the Sphinx. 2 Next, the postponement of explanations about the death of Laius and the exile of CEdipus from Corinth is a direct result of dramatic treatment. Just as ^Eschylus, 3 in order to handle dramatically a religious question, the bearings of which fill the whole of time, insists on contracting the issue to a single great instance, so Sophocles forces into the compass of one day's happenings the life of years. In actuality, this tragedy would have been spread over a great lapse of time. The climax and the horror would have been much the same essentially, but the poet presents the whole in a closely-knit nexus of occurrence, so as to make the spectator feel the full impact undissipated by graduations. The difficulty concerning Tiresias is of another sort. CEdipus' apparent madness is not so great as it seems. Not only is he by his rank and superb self-confidence shielded from misgivings, not only is he already sus- picious that the murderer must be some treacherous Theban, 4 but he has now lost his temper, and has just been furious enough to accuse Tiresias himself of com- plicity in the deed. It is therefore easy for him to assume that the prophet in his turn is only uttering his accusations as a wild insult. It might also be asked, why is not the scene with Jocasta, in which she fortifies the king against sooth- sayers and oracles, not placed at the end of the Tiresias- episode ? This question leads one to suppose that there is great importance in the quarrel with Creon which inter- venes between the departure of Tiresias and the queen's appearance. Its importance clearly is, partly to depict CEdipus more plainly, by contrast with his equable 1 See Aristotle, Poetic, 1 454/5. 2 yv. 130-1, 3 See pp. 127-8, 4 vv. 124-5, 152 GREEK TRAGEDY kinsman, but most of all to give force and impressive- ness to the end of the play, in which Creon appears as king. After the appalling climax of the play, and the frightful return of the blind CEdipus, there is danger that Creon's entry will fall flat. 1 But with faultless skill Sophocles has prepared the ground so well that when the agony is at its worst our interest is not indeed increased, but refreshed and relieved by the appear- ance of this man whom we have forgotten, but whom we recognize in a flash as being now the pivot of events. This admirable stroke reminds one of the return of Chrysothemis in the Electra, but it is far more powerful. Another feat of dramatic power must be noted, marvellous even where all is masterly : the re-appearance of QEdipus after the climax. Nothing in Greek tragedy is more common than for a person after learning fright- ful news to rush within the doors in despair. But he does not return ; a messenger tells the news of his fate. In this play news is indeed brought of the bloody deeds that have befallen. Then comes a sight almost too appalling for art : the doors open and the man of doom staggers into the light of day once more. Spiritu- ally he is dead, but he may not destroy himself since he cannot go down to Hades where his father and mother dwell. He must live, surviving himself, as it were a corpse walking the upper earth. The waters of doom have closed over his head, but he re-appears. Jocasta is more slightly drawn than CEdipus, yet what we have suffices. Two features are stressed by the poet her tenderness for CEdipus and her flippant contempt in regard to the oracles. This last is clearly a dramatic lever of great power ; through it the king is first brought to suspect that he is the guilty man. It has a strong and pathetic excuse. Because of the oracle, she was robbed of her child and yet all in vain 1 The entry of Fortinbras at the end of Hamlet is closely similar. Perhaps it is fear of anti-climax which causes producers nowadays to omit this finale. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 153 the infant not yet three days old was cast away, but none the less Laius was killed. It is precisely her rage against the oracle for cheating her which brings to CEdipus the knowledge that it has been fulfilled. Further than this Sophocles has not characterized the queen ; he places an ordinary woman in a situation of extraordinary horror and pathos, leaving us to feel her emotions, without any elaboration of his own. To read the conversation between CEdipus and the Corinthian, with the short colloquy of CEdipus and Jocasta which follows, is to experience as perhaps nowhere else can be experienced that " purgation of pity and terror " which is the function of tragedy. It all centres for the moment in Jocasta, yet she says very little. We are required to imagine it for ourselves the intertwined amazement, joy, loathing, despair, which fill the woman's heart during the few minutes for which she listens in silence to the king and the messenger. To have lost her child at birth, then after mourning his death for many years at length to find that he lives, that he stands before her, mature, strong, and kingly, but her own husband ; then to realize that not now but long ago did she recover him, yet did not know him but loved him otherwise this even Sophocles has not put into speech. Only one hint of it comes to us in the queen's last words : toil, lov, 8v(rn)V ' TOVTO yap cr' evcu p.6vov irpofTfinflv, tiX\o 8' ovnod vartpov. First she screams at his ignorance and would tell all in one word " Son ! " But she cannot say it, nor dare she use again the name "husband". All dear titles have been forfeited by being all merited together ; and with the cry " Unhappy one ! " she goes to death. The two herdsmen are perfect in their degree. Instead of mere machines for giving evidence we have a pair of real men, subtly differentiated and de- lightful. The Corinthian, as befits a man coming from a great centre of civilization to the quieter town 154 GREEK TRAGEDY of dull Boeotians, is polite, rhetorical, 1 ready of tongue, and conscious of his address ; eager and inquisitive, he increases his importance by telling the tale piece- meal, and will even tell it wrongly 2 for that purpose. The Theban herdsman is an excellent foil to his brisk acquaintance ; quiet and slow, with the breeding and dignity often found in the lowly members of a back- ward community, he does his best to recall the memories on which a king and a nation are hanging in suspense, until he begins to see whither the questions tend ; then, only the fiercest threats can drag the truth from his stubborn loyalty. Sophocles loved this character ; long before he appears we have a charming little de- scription of him from hints of Jocasta 3 and the chorus ;* the poet has even given him one 6 of those magical lines to which we shall come again later : \tytis aXydrj, Kciinfp tK paKpov THE WOMEN OF TRACHIS 6 (Trackinice, is, perhaps, the next play in chronological order. The scene is before a house in the state of Trachis not far from Eubcea. Deianira, the wife of Heracles, is troubled by his absence because of an oracle which says that in this last enterprise he shall either die or win untroubled happiness. Hyllus, her son, goes off to help him in his attack on the city of Eurytus in Eubcea. The messenger Lichas brings news of Heracles' triumph ; with him are certain captive girls, one of whom, lole, daughter of Eurytus, is beloved by Heracles. Deianira learns this fact after a pathetic appeal to Lichas ; then she sends him back with a gift to Heracles a robe which she has anointed with the blood of the Centaur Nessus as a charm to win back her husband's love. After Lichas has gone she finds by an accident that the robe is 1 Note his preciosity, vv. 942, 959, 1028. s He first (v. 1026) says that he found the infant CEdipus ; only later (1038) does he admit that another man has been concerned. 3 vv. 758-64. 4 vv. 1117-8. *v. 1141. 8 Arrangement : protagonist, Deianira, Heracles; deuteragonist, Hyllus, Lichas ; tritagonist, nurse, messenger, old man. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 155 poisoned. Then Hyllus returns with news that his father is dying in torments, and reproaches his mother. She goes into the house and stabs herself. Hyllus learns the truth, and when the dying hero is carried in, cursing his false wife, he explains her error. Heracles gives orders that his body is to be burnt on Mount CEta and that Hyllus must marry lole. It is customary to regard the Trachinia as the weakest extant play of Sophocles. The picture of Heracles' physical agony 'near the close seems weari- somely elaborate ; and in the second place we are utterly dissatisfied with him. He does not seem worthy of the trepidation,* awe, and grief which he has excited through- out the play. All that follows the suicide of Deianira appears empty or offensive. This objection may be put 1 thus, that there are two tragedies', that of Deianira and that of the hero. Now though it is quite true that one can point to a thought which unifies the play the passion of Heracles for lole, or more fundamentally, the destructive power of love, this does not meet the difficulty, which will then simply be restated thus, that the poet has not maintained a due perspective ; the story of Deianira's emotions and of her plan bulks too largely and impedes what should have been the climax. But it is a fundamental law in the criticism of Greek Tragedy, and especially in the study of Sophocles, that we must ponder it until we find some central thought which accounts for the whole action and for the perspective in which the details are placed. Such a central thought is, after all, not lacking in the Trachiniee. It is the char- acter of Deianira, her instincts, and her actions. This play is in structure very similar to the Ajax. In the earlier work Ajax' death occurs far from the end, but the latter portion is no anti-climax. So here : the topic is not especially the death of Deianira or the end of Heracles ; it is the heroine's love for her husband and the attempt she makes to win him back. The poet's 1 See Jebb's Introduction, pp. xxxviii sy. 156 GREEK TRAGEDY interest in her does not vanish at the moment of her silent withdrawal. Her act, her love, survive her. What is the result of her pathetic secret wooing of Heracles? She has longed for two things, his return and a renewal of his affection. To both these purposes is granted a dim painful phantom of success. Instead of tarrying in Eubcea Heracles hastens home, though every movement of his litter is torment ; Deianira's passion has brought him back, though not as she meant. As for her plan to regain his love, it is true that when he learns her inno- cence not a word of pity or affection falls from him ; he never mentions her again. It may be that he is merely stupid and callous ; it may be that he is ashamed to recant his bitter words ; it may be that he is at once engrossed in the sudden light which is thrown upon his own fortunes. However this may be, the promise of Nessus on which she relied is fulfilled : " This shall be to thee a charm for the soul of Heracles, so that he shall never look upon any woman to love her more than thee ! " the hero's passion for lole is quenched. This concep- tion gives a wonderful beauty to what is otherwise a mere brutality of the dying man. In forcing his son to marry lole he outrages our feelings as well as the heart of Hyllus unless we have understood. But this is his reparation to Deianira. The charm of Nessus has been potent indeed ; the maiden is nothing to him : he " loves no woman more " than Deianira. But this act is more than cold reparation ; it is a beautiful stroke of silent eloquence. Heracles not only relinquishes lole, he gives her to his son, to one many years his junior. This is an unconscious reply to the touching complaint 2 made by the wronged wife : The flower of her age is in its spring, But mine in autumn. And the eyes of men Still pluck the blossom, shunning withered charms. For him his wife was the true mate ; let lole wed a 1 vv, 575-7 (Jebb's translation). 8 vv. 547-9, THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 157 man of her own years. 1 Thus the hope of Deianira is in a terrible way half-fulfilled. Just as Heracles was mistaken in his reading of the oracle which promised him " rest " at the end of his toils, so was she mistaken in the meaning she put upon the Centaur's promise. The oracles of heaven, by their own power and still more by the terrible misinterpretation of man, help to mould the play, as they mould the CEdipus Tyrannus. Thus the Trachinicz becomes a real unity. Deianira's fate is now no over-developed episode, for in a spiritual sense it fills the tragedy. The doom of Heracles is no anti-climax or tedious addendum ; it is the exposition before our eye of the havoc which can be wrought by sincere love misled. A great structural danger lies herein, that the picture of Heracles' torment may eclipse the tragedy of his wife. But the poet has surmounted this by making the agony-scene not too long, and above all by reminding us of Deianira through the repeated allusion to her made by Heracles and through the explanation of Hyllus. Certain peculiarities of detail in the plot strongly sup- port the view that Deianira is the subject of the whole drama. First is the conduct of Lichas. This part is carefully constructed so as to lead up to the great appeal in which the heroine describes the might of Love. If Lichas had really kept his secret instead of tattling to the townsfolk, Deianira would not have known it and so appealed to Lichas. If, on the other hand, Lichas had not tried to deceive his mistress, she would not have needed to offer any appeal. His conduct has been de- vised solely to portray her character by means of this marvellous speech. A second point is the way in which Hyllus learns his mother's innocence. After his speech of denunciation she goes without a word into the house. The Trachinian maidens know the truth and have heard from Deianira 2 herself that she will not survive her 1 These remarks are not vitiated by the fact (see Jebb on v. 1224) that legend wedded lole to Hyllus. If the command of Heracles is as objectionable as Jebb appears to think, why did Sophocles go out of his way to cause the hero himself, instead of some other, to enjoin the marriage ? 2 vv. 719 sq. 158 GREEK TRAGEDY husband, but they say nothing to Hyllus. Yet the play- wright who is here so strangely reticent allows the prince to learn the facts in a few minutes "from the people in the house " as he casually phrases it. The reason is that if Hyllus were informed at once he would prevent his mother's suicide. This would have destroyed the dramatic treatment without altering events. For Deianira is not concerned in being proved innocent ; she wishes to die now that Heracles is destroyed. Hyllus' intervention would only mean procrastination of death. 1 In the interests of drama, it must happen now. Further he must learn the truth as soon as she is dead, for some one must confront Heracles with a defence of the dead woman, if her fate and her love are, as we said, dominant throughout the play. Here, too, there is a resemblance between the Trachinia and the Ajax ; Hyllus, in this last scene, resembles Teucer championing the fame of Ajax. The character-drawing is here as admirable as else- where. Lichas, well-meaning but foolish and shifty, is contrasted with the messenger who is perfectly honest though spiteful. Hyllus is a character of a type which we have often discussed already he has no personality, and we are interested in him not because of what he is but because of what happens to him. The women of the chorus are simply a band of sympathetic friends. Heracles, on the customary reading of the tragedy, is the most callously brutal figure in literature. One need not labour the proof; his treatment of Deianira, of lole, of Hyllus, of Lichas, of every one whom he meets, 2 is enough. The poet has taken the only possible course to make us witness the hero's pangs at the close with a certain satisfaction. But the other possible theory does away with this sham "tragedy". Heracles as a coarse stupid " man of action " who is yet capable of reflection 1 This accounts also for the absurd behaviour of the nurse (vv. 927 sg.} who instead of interfering hastens away to Hyllus, entirely unlike other such women in tragedy. a See the speech of Lichas (w. 248-86). THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 159 and a touch of " the melting mood" shown by his giving lole to Hyllus when the secret of his wife's heart is at last irresistibly pressed upon him, is dramatic indeed. But the glory of this work is Deianira. A comparison of the Trachinicz with the Ajax illustrates the develop- ment of ideas in the poet's mind. Tecmessa's character and position have been analysed, and we find, instead of one woman, two lole and Deianira. lole is mute ; it is not her conduct, but her involuntary influence, which contributes to the tragedy. In Deianira, however, we meet the Trojan princess once more, older and with more initiative tenderer she could not be. It is this union of gentleness with force of mind, of love and sad knowledge of the world, which makes her character so appealing and gracious. A smaller poet would have made her haughty or abject, revengeful or contemptible ; Sophocles has portrayed a noble lady, who will bend, but not kneel. Her interview with lole and the later conversations in which first she excuses her husband and then on reflec- tion finds that she cannot share his home with the new- comer these scenes, painted with quiet mastery, are the greatest work of Sophocles in the portraiture of women. There can be no doubt that the Trachinice is the work of Sophocles ; considerations of style, hard to de- scribe but overwhelming, settle the case beyond dis- pute. None the less we cannot ignore the influence of another school of drama the Euripidean. The features more or less certainly due to this influence are : (i) The subject itself. Sophocles has studied a woman's love and its possibilities of unintended mischief in a way which recalls many plots 1 of Euripides, (ii) The "pro- logue," especially the explanatory speech of Deianira, is not in the usual manner of the playwright, but quite in that of Euripides, (iii) The last lines, with their re- proach against the hardness of the gods who neglect 1 Deianira's plan, moreover, reads like a sort of dilution of Medea's, and her last moments (w. 900-22) recall the description in the Alcestis (vv. 1 58- 84). 160 GREEK TRAGEDY their children, and the total silence about the deifica- tion of Heracles, which was the most familiar fact of this story, a silence emphatic throughout, are in spirit Euripidean. (iv) The chorus is almost negligible as a dramatic factor, and one of its songs -- the first stasimon is literally " commonplace " ; it would fit any kind of joyous occasion, (v) The turns of expres- sion occasionally recall those of the younger poet. The colloquial irolav SoK-qo-w * cannot be paralleled in tragedy except in his work. One line' 2 seems borrowed almost without change. Deianira's homely, almost coarse, words, "and now we two await his embrace beneath one rug," are not what one expects from the stately Sophocles. The prosaic ^a/D/Aa/cev? 3 and the allusion 4 to Heracles' unheroic side (r^viK r\v w^w/ieVcs, " when he was deep in wine ") are on the same level. But most Euripidean of all is the description 5 Deianira gives of her dreadful suitor. There is nothing unlike Sophocles in this acceptance of the legend that Deianira was wooed by a river-god. But the studied nonchalance of the first line " my suitor was a river, Achelous that is," and the absurdity of the second, in which the divine wooer is represented as applying (with a punctilio strange to river-gods of legend) to the lady's father for her hand, and "calling " () on different occasions as a different animal all this mixture of horror and comedy is absolute Euripides. The fact appears to be that Sophocles deliberately took up the attitude of Euripides, for two reasons firstly, for the sheer delight of a strange and difficult feat of artistry ; secondly, in order to show how Euripides, even from his own stand- point, ought to have written. 6 J v. 427. Cp. Eur. Helena, 567 : iroias Sdfiaprot; * Jebb points out that Track. 416 and Supplices 567 are practically identical. 3 v. 1140. 4 268. 8 vv. 9-14. 6 That even the equable Sophocles did on occasion embody criticism of other playwrights in his works is shown by such passages as Electra 1288 syf., CEd Col. 1148-9. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 161 PHILOCTETES l (^XoKTifn??) was pr duced in the spring of 409 B.C., when the po^t was eighty-seven years old, and won the first prize. The hero Philoctetes was one of the chieftains who sailed for Troy. When the fleet touched at Chryse, he was stung in the foot by a snake. The wound was incurable and its noxious odour, to- gether with the cries of the sufferer, were so troublesome to the Greeks that they deserted him when asleep upon the island of Lemnos, leaving with him a little food and clothing, and his bow and arrows, the last a legacy from Heracles. In the tenth year of the war the Greeks learned that Troy could only be taken by help of Philoctetes and the weapons of Heracles. Two men were sent to Lemnos with the purpose of bringing the maimed warrior to Troy Odysseus because of his craft, Neoptolemus because he was unknown to Philoctetes. The scene is a desolate spot on the island, in front of the cliff-face in which is the cave inhabited by Philoctetes. Neoptolemus wins the confidence of the sufferer while Odysseus keeps in the background, though by a subtle device of a false message he aids the plot greatly. But when the fated weapons are secured and Philoctetes (who supposes he is to be conveyed back to Greece) is ready to accompany Neoptolemus, the latter tells him the truth. Philoctetes' misery, rage, and re- proaches induce the youth to restore the weapons de- spite Odysseus' opposition, and to promise Philoctetes a passage home. But at the last moment Heracles appears in glory above their heads and commands Philoctetes to proceed Troywards. He willingly con- sents, and bids farewell to the scene of his long sorrow. In structure this play is perhaps the most interesting extant work of Sophocles. As elsewhere, we find a great simple character of vast will-power exposed to a strong temptation Philoctetes confronted by the chance of healing, happiness, and glory, if only he will meet in friendship men whom he is determined to hate. But 1 Arrangement : protagonist, Philoctetes; deuteragonist, Neopto- lemus ; tritagonist, Odysseus, merchant, Heracles. II 162 GREEK TRAGEDY for once there is a secondary interest which is not purely secondary. Many will even find the development of Neoptolemus more impressive than the situation of Philoctetes. While the latter shows the heroic character as it appears after the experience of life, strong, re- flective, sad, a little fierce if not soured, the other is the hero before such experience, eager and noble but too responsive to suggestion. Neoptolemus has just begun life, and his first task is to betray for the public good, no doubt, but still to betray a noble stranger who merits not only respect but instant pity and tendance. " Oh ! that never had I left Scyros ! " he exclaims. Life after all is not a blaze of glorious war as his father Achilles found it, but a sordid affair of necessary com- promises. One of the most charming things in the drama is the clearness with which Philoctetes, in the midst of his rage, sees the tragedy of his youthful captor. 1 Confronted by the kindness of the youth, he reveals himself not as a mere savage, living only on thoughts of revenge ; he becomes more flexible, open-hearted, almost sociable. So revealed, he is the direct cause of the change in Neoptolemus' purpose. Beside these stands Odysseus, only less striking and equally indispensable. For a chief note of this drama is the skill with which the poet avails himself of the three actors, whose possibilities are here for perhaps the first time fully employed. It is easy, but mistaken, to label Odysseus as " the villain ". In reality he is the State personified. There is no modern reader who does not hate and contemn him, but it remains true that whereas Philoctetes whom we pity and Neoptolemus whom we love both take a strictly personal view, Odysseus at the risk of his life insists on pressing the claim of the com- munity. It is necessary to Greece that Troy should fall. She can only fall through the arrows of Heracles. The man who owns them will assuredly not consent. It follows that he must be compelled to help, by force or 1 w. 1007-15. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 163 guile. A conquering nation must have its Philip as well as its Alexander ; Odysseus stands for facts which twenty years of the Peloponnesian war had driven home into Athenian minds. Neoptolemus is the type of many a young warrior who has learned with aching disgust that the knightly exploits which tales of Marathon had fired him to perform must be thwarted unceasingly by the politic meanderings of Nicias, by considerations of corn-supply, or the "representations" of some remote satrap. And in the end Odysseus gets his way. As the two friends start for home, leaving the Greeks at Troy to defeat and the oracles of Heaven to non-fulfilment, a god appears to command from the sky that self-sacrifice shall be revoked and hate forgotten. What are we to think of this intervention of Heracles ? Is he not an extreme instance of the deus ex machina ? Is not mere compulsion employed to change a settled resolve ? This is the most striking and the most difficult feature of the construction : rather it seems the negation of structure. Why is it employed? Some 1 have been content to suggest Euripidean influence of course no answer at all. Some 2 have thought that Heracles is personified conscience, rising to remind Philoctetes of his duty to Greece ; a suggestion ruled out by the fact that his duty has been urged clearly by Neoptolemus. A more attractive idea 3 is that the genuine peripeteia of the play consists in Neoptolemus' change of front ; in this way an inner dramatic unity is secured, while the external change induced by Heracles is a mere conces- sion to the data of legend. This in its turn is vitiated by the fact that for the dramatist Philoctetes, and not Neoptolemus, is the central figure : this is proved by the work as a whole and by the title which the poet 1 E.g. Mahaffy (History of Gk. Lit., Poets > pp. 309-12). 2 Christ (Geschichte der Gr. Lit. p. 210) who compares Heracles here to the 8(py(Tcov yap jcavroy airr* i*nf4{Uj9. 2 See Jebb's 2nd edition (p. xxvii with footnote). 3 Or. 52. 166 GREEK TRAGEDY sets up a comparison between the plays on Philoctetes composed by the three tragedians. The work of Sophocles is the latest, and two peculiarities help us to see how far his originality went. Firstly, as a com- panion to Odysseus he introduces, not Diomedes as Euripides had done, but a figure new to the Trojan war, an ingenuous lad whose sympathy brings out what gentleness remains in the sufferer's heart. Secondly, the chorus consists of Greek sailors, not of Lemnian natives as in the two other playwrights. Sophocles will have no Lemnian visitors because for him it is a cardinal fact that Philoctetes all these years has been alone save for a chance ship. Thus we gain for a moment a glance into the actual thoughts of Sophocles : he has made up his mind that his Philoctetes must be quite solitary. So essential is this that he falsifies known facts. Lemnos, he says in the second line of his play, is " untrodden, uninhabited by men," whereas, both in the times supposed and in the poet's own day, it was a populous place. This, then, gives an in- valuable indication of the extent to which Sophocles felt himself free to re-model his subject-matter. On the play itself it throws light. The question is to be studied not from the point of view of the Greek army, but from that of their potential helper, soured as he is by a more extreme suffering than ^Eschylus and Euripides had imagined. The picture thus conceived is painted with splendid power. Romantic desolation makes itself felt in the opening words of Odysseus, and this sense of the frowning grandeur of nature to which Philoctetes in his despair appeals l is everywhere associated with the pathos of lonely suffering. " While the mountain nymph, babbling Echo, appearing afar, makes answer to his bitter cries." 2 All that he says, from his first exclamation of joy at hearing again the Greek language to the noble speech in which he bids farewell to the 1 w. 936 sff., 987 sf., etc. a w. 187-90 (Jebb's reading and translation). THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 167 bitter home which use has made something like a friend, is instinct with this mingling of romance and pathos. Deserted by all men he has yet found companions whom in his misery he addresses ; his hands, his poisoned foot, his eyes, his bow, and the familiar land- scape, vocal with the "bass roar of the sea upon the headland V Closer even than these is his eternal unseen companion, Pain, whom he found at his side on first awakening after the departure of the Greek host : " When my scrutiny had traversed all the land, no inhabitant could I find therein save Sorrow ; and that, my son, could be met at every turn ". 2 It has been suspected that the play contains allusions to contemporary politics, that the poet is thinking of Alcibiades' return from exile. In 410 the year before this play was produced he had gained credit from the naval victory of Cyzicus. Some, moreover, have seen in Odysseus the cynical politician of the day. Other passages read like criticism of the public "atmosphere" at Athens in the closing years of the great war. The dramatist is making deliberate comments on con- temporary Athenian politics, but he assuredly did not choose the whole theme of Philoctetes merely because of Alcibiades' restoration. 3 The QEoiPus COLONEUS * (OiStTrov? enl KoXawaJ) or CEdipus at Colonus was according to the customary view produced in 401 B.C., three years after the poet's death, by his namesake and grandson. The background a v. 1455- 2 vv. 282-4. Notice also the phrase vv $ (v. 268) used of his malady. 8 Jebb (Introd. pp. xl, xli, 2nd ed.) seems unwilling to allow any direct allusions. But see w. 385 sqq., 456 sqq., and particularly 1035 sqq. ; all three passages show a peculiar emphasis ; w. 1047-51 are quite in the tone of Thucydides' " Melian dialogue". 4 The arrangement of the parts is not certain. But the important fact seems clear that a fourth actor was here used not tentatively (as in other cases) but in a very remarkable degree. Jebb gives : protagonist, CEdipus; deuteragonist, Antigone ; tritagonist, Ismene and Creon ; fourth actor, " Stranger," Theseus, Polynices, messenger. Croiset : protagonist, CEdipus ; deuteragonist, Antigone ; fourth actor, Theseus ; all the other parts to the tritagonist. 168 GREEK TRAGEDY represents the grove of the Furies at Colonus, a village near Athens. CEdipus, exiled from Thebes, an aged blind wanderer, enters led by his daughter Antigone. They obtain the favour of King Theseus and the citizens, CEdipus promising that after his death his spirit shall defend Athens. Ismene, his daughter, brings news that an oracle has said that in the struggle between Thebes and the Seven led by Polynices, son of CEdipus, that side shall win which has possession of CEdipus. Both parties are now eager for his support, but he curses both his sons. Creon, King of Thebes, enters, and failing to gain aught but reproaches, carries off the two girls, and is about to seize the father also when he is checked by the arrival of Theseus, who rescues the maidens. Poly- nices next comes to beg his father's aid, but is sent to his doom with curses. Then a peal of thunder announces to CEdipus that the moment of his passing is at hand. He bids farewell to his daughters, and, watched only by Theseus, descends to the underworld ; the place of his burial is to be known to none save Theseus and his suc- cessors. Ismene and Antigone in vain beg to be shown the spot, and finally Antigone resolves to seek Thebes that she may reconcile her brothers. This play is simple in structure, superbly rich in execution. CEdipus dominates all the scenes, which reveal with piercing intensity his physical helplessness and the spiritual might which, marked at the opening, is overwhelming at the close. The poets task is not merely to portray the last hours of a much-tried man, but the novitiate of a superhuman Power. CEdipus at last reaches peace and a welcome from the infernal gods he becomes a Sat/iwi/. The terrific feature is that even in the flesh he anticipates his daemonic qualities. In the interview between him and Polynices, the implacable hatred, the strength, the prophetic sight of the father, and the hopeless prayers, the wretchedness, the despair and moral collapse of the doomed son, are nothing but the presentation in human life of the actual daemon's power as prophesied for future generations. Before the 169 close we feel that the aged exile's sufferings, sombre wisdom, and simple burning emotions have already made him a being of unearthly powers, sundered from normal humanity ; his strange passing is but the ratifi- cation of a spiritual fact already accomplished. But this weird climax is preceded by an equally wonderful study of the human CEdipus. The king who appears in the CEdipus Tyrannus can here still be recognized. Pas- sionate anger still directs much of his conduct, as friend and foe alike remind 1 him. But even his faults are mellowed by years and contemplation ; his very anger shows some gleam of a profounder patience- Through- out, the temper of CEdipus is like that of the heavens above him gloom cleft by flashes of insight, indignation, and love. Unlike other aged sufferers, he does not dwell in the past ; unlike the saint and martyr whom a Christian dramatist might have portrayed, he does not lean upon a future of glory or happiness. Nor again has he sunk into a senile acquiescence in the present ; he is far from being absorbed by the loving tendance of his daughters. The centre of his life has shifted, but not to any period of time rather to another plane of being. Still in the flesh, his human emotions as essential as ever, his life is growing assimilated to the non-human existence of the whole earth. And so it is that CEdipus meets "death " with cheerfulness ; he is departing to his own place. At the last moment the blind man leads those who see to the place of his departure. What to them is dreadful and secret is to him the centre of his longing; the terrific figures who inhabit his new home are welcome friends at the beginning of the play he addresses the Furies themselves as "sweet daughters of primeval Night ". 2 The whole drama at the end is full of this sense. In the farewell song of the chorus which com- mends the wanderer to the powers of Earth, there is an eerie precision and picturesqueness in the description of the lower world ; the " infernal moor " 8 and the guardian 1 Creon, vv. 854 sq. ; Antigone, v. 1 195. 3 v. 106. 8 vv. 1 563 sq. The same word recurs in Antigone's lament (v. 1682) : 8t n-XaKff 170 GREEK TRAGEDY hound gleam forth for an instant into strange famili- arity. The other characters are carved, though in lower relief, yet with richness and vigour. Theseus is the ideal Athenian gentleman, 1 suddenly called to show pity to a pair of helpless wanderers, then unexpectedly involved in battle with a neighbour state, and finally confronted with the most awful mysteries of divine government, without ever losing his courage or his discretion. Creon and Polynices, such is the immense understanding of the aged poet, share too in this nobility of mind. They can face facts ; and whether villains or not, they are men of breeding. The "stranger " who first accosts QEdipus is a charming embodiment of that local patriotism to which we shall return in a moment. The two sisters are beautifully distinguished by the divergent experiences of years. Antigone's wandering and hardship have made her the more intense and passionate ; Ismene's life in Thebes have given her comprehension of more immediate issues. It is through Antigone, moreover, who declares that she will seek Thebes and attempt to save her brothers, that the poet obtains one of his noblest effects. Overwhelming as is the story of CEdipus, his end does not close all ; life goes on to further mysteries of pain and affection. On the purely literary side the CEdipus Coloneus is certainly the greatest and the most typical work of Sophocles. The most celebrated lyric in Greek is the splendid ode in praise of Colonus " our white Colonus ; where the nightingale, a constant guest, trills her clear note in the covert of green glades, dwelling amid the wine-dark ivy and the god's inviolate bowers, rich in berries and fruit, unvisited by sun, unvexed by wind of any storm ; where the reveller Dionysus ever walks the ground, companion of the nymphs that nursed him," 2 and of the whole land with its peculiar glories, 1 Note specially the word Tovnitnis (v. 1127) though the idea is of course expressed by the whole play. a w. 670-80 (Jebb's version). THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 171 the olive of peace and the steed of war. To this should be added that address of QEdipus to Theseus concerning the fickleness of all things earthly which is less the speech of one man than the voice of Life itself. 1 Noblest of all is the account of CEdipus' last moments, a passage which in breathless loveliness, pathos, and religious pro- fundity is beyond telling flawless and without peer. It is curious that Sophocles in this work which, more than any other, reveals his own poetic mastery should have definitely drawn attention to the power of language. At various crises in the play he speaks of the " little word" 2 and its potency. CEdipus reflects how his two sons for lack of a " little word " in his defence have suffered him to be thrust forth into exile ; the nobility of Theseus, the sudden hostility of Thebes in days to come, the appearance of Polynices, are all matters of the " little word " which means so much. And in his marvellous farewell to his daughters, CEdipus speaks of the " one word " which has made all his sorrows vanish " love ". Every master-work of literature has a prophetic quality, and sending its roots down near to the deepest wells of life is instinct with unconscious kinships. The CEdipus Coloneus is rich in this final glory of art. The whole conception of the sufferer, aged and blind but gifted with spiritual sight, recalls the blind Milton's sub- lime address to the Light which " shines inward " ; and the thought adds charm to Sophocles' description of the nightingale 8 which Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note. Again, just as the whole scheme suggests King Lear, so does the simple vigour of Theseus' words, 4 when he 1 See below, p. 185. 2 o-fjiiKpos \6yos four times (vv. 569, 620, 1116, 1152), o-piKpbv firos once (v. 443), and Iv povov tiros once (v. 1615 sqq.). Dr. Mackail (Lectures on Greek Poetry, p. 150) has indicated this point. See also Electra, 415. * w. 670 sqq. : The parallel I owe to Jebb's note. 4 w. 1 503 sq. 172 GREEK TRAGEDY enters at the terrific close amid the bellowing of the un- natural tempest : irdvra yap 0tov roiavra xfipd^ovros (iKiicrai rrdpa, recall the " pelting of this pitiless storm 'V So too the divine summons 2 which comes " many times, and mani- fold " to CEdipus brings to mind the call " Samuel ! Samuel ! " The mystery of CEdipus' tomb suggests the passing of another august soul : " No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day," 8 and of Joseph, named among the faithful, who " when he died, made mention of the departing of the children of Israel ; and gave commandment concerning his bones ". 4 This play is deeply religious in the very details of its theme as well as in its tone. Besides the usual orthodox background there is the lovely presentation of a minor local worship the cult of the Eumenides at Colonus, Sophocles' native village. The aged poet in his last years seems to have returned with special affection to the simple observances which he had learnt as a boy, and which evoke one of his most characteristic phrases : 6 roiavrd 8ei7n>oi) earned the reprobation of Cicero l apparently for its coarseness, which can still be noted in the frag- ments. In The Lovers of Achilles ('A^tXXew? cpcurrat) there was a passage describing the perplexity of passion, which in its mannered felicity recalls Swinburne or the Sonnets of Shakespeare : Love is a sweet perplexity of soul, Most like the sport of younglings, when the sky In winter-clearness scatters frost abroad : They seize a glittering icicle, filled a while With joy and wonder ; but ere long the toy Melts, and they know not how to grasp it still, Tho' loth to cast it from them. So with lovers : Their yearning passion holds them hour by hour Poised betwixt boldness and reluctant awe. The Laocoon, which dealt with a famous episode in the capture of Troy, supplies a fragment describing /Eneas' escape from the city with his father upon his shoulders ; one or two other passages 2 besides this recall Vergil's treatment Another tragedy from the same cycle of stories, the Polyxena, is praised by " Longinus" 3 in the same terms of eulogy as the culmination of the CEdipus Coloneus itself. The Tereus* to judge from the number of fragments, was very popular ; it dealt with the fright- ful fable of the Thracian King Tereus, his wife Procne, and her sister Philomela, all of whom were at last changed into birds. Aristophanes 6 has an obscure 1 Ad Quintum Fratrem, II, xv. 3. 2 Fr. 344 : irovov (LtraXXa^dfvros 01 irovoi yXvKetr, and fr. 345 : poxdov yap ovSels TOV jrapeXdovros Xoyoy ; recall sEneid, I, 203 : forsan et haec olim meminisse iuuabit. 3 De Subl. XV, 7 axpV&( Trpotrpitvovff' dd <)Ttiv T rd\aiv' -yap al 8pav ri ras ov(ras ri pov KOI ray anovvas iXiriSas 8u(p6optv. iv ovv Totovrois ovrt crvfypovdv, 0t'Xai, o&r' evvtfidv irdpttrriv dXX* iv iy 'or' drayicr) Kairaybrvtiv KOKO. 1 Electra, 303-16. THE WORKS OF SOPHOCLES 181 XO. (ptp' tint, irarepov Svros klyicrdov irtXas \eytis ratf f/piv, fj jSejSwros e< ftop.u>v ; HA. TI Kapra p.fj doKft p av, (iirtp rfv irtXas, ffvpalov ol\vtiv vvv &' dypolcri rvyxavti. XO. 9 KOV eyw dapcrovaa pa\\ov ts XS ravr <^t ; HA. its vvv dirovTos i' etTre is almost casual in its lightness, and it is at once followed by a tribrach. The rather odd use of the bare dative dypotcri is a delightfully neat tinge of colloquialism, supported by Tuyx* vct - T ne Pkiloctetes will repay special study from this point of view. There is a remarkable tendency to divide 2 lines between speakers in order to express excitement ; this device is elsewhere very uncommon. From this play we may select one example 3 of amazing skill in rhythm. Philoctetes is explaining how he contrives to crawl to and fro in quest of food and the like : yacrrpi i*(v ra v Saipovitov^viv. 1 1 59-63), which is found also at the close of Medea (practically), Helena, Andromache^ and Baccha. 188 GREEK TRAGEDY comic"; "the drama is more or less satyric, because it ends in joy and pleasure". These remarks, coupled with the fact that the Alcestis (as the last play of the tetralogy) occupied the place of the customary satyric drama, have caused much discussion. It is enough to say here : first, that the Alcestis is in no sense a satyric play ; * second, that it undoubtedly presents comic features ; third, that none the less the work belongs to the sphere of tragedy. It is sometimes difficult, and often undesirable, to label dramatic poems too definitely ; but we must certainly avoid the impression that this play is a comedy. It deals poignantly with the most solemn interests of humanity ; the comic scenes merely show, what is almost as obvious elsewhere, that Euripides imitates actual life more closely than his two great rivals. Nothing is gained, however, by ignoring the comic element. The altercation between Apollo and Thanatos contains much that surprises us the wit 2 and the eager, wrangling, bargaining tone of the dispute. Again the quarrel between Pheres and his son, admirable in its skilful revelation of character, jars terribly when enacted over the body of Alcestis. Heracles' half-tipsy lecture to the slave shocks us in a demigod about to wrestle with Death himself. But the whole situation as between Alcestis and Admetus, Admetus and Heracles, is handled with dignity and extraordinary pathos. The death scene, especially Admetus' despairing address to his wife ; the even finer passage when the king returns but shrinks from the cold aspect of his widowed house ; the magnificent and lovely odes, above all the song which describes the wild beasts of Othrys' side sporting to the music of Apollo these are thoroughly suited to tragedy. The plot is apparently 3 quite simple, but one fact - \ There are no satyrs and no indecency of language. a E.g. v. 58 : irwv tiTfas ; oXX' 9 KOI bs \t\rj6as u>v ; "What ! you among the philosophers 1 " 3 The late Dr. A. W. Verrall's brilliant theory of this play it will be better to discuss later (see pp. 190 sq.\ THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 189 should be mentioned. The rescue of Alcestis is due directly to the drunkenness of Heracles. He is pre- vented from learning the facts in an ordinary way by Admetus ; had he behaved normally, he would have left Pherse still unenlightened, since Admetus has for- bidden l his slave to speak. It is his intoxication alone which goads the butler to explain. The character-drawing is skilful, often subtle. Her- acles, good-hearted but somewhat dense, sensual and coarse-fibred, is half-way between the demigod of the Heracles Furens and the boisterous glutton of comedy. Capable of splendid impulses, he is yet a masterpiece of breezy tactlessness, as when with hideous slyness he suggests to Admetus (in the presence of the restored wife) that the king may console himself by a new mar- riage. Pheres and Admetus are an admirable pair. Both are selfish, Admetus with pathetic unconsciousness, his father with cynical candour. Pheres is quite willing to give elaborate honour to the dead woman so long as it costs little ; Admetus is it true of him that he is ready to utter splendid heroic speeches so long as the sacrifice is made to save him ? Not so ; he feels terribly. But the comparison between father and son reminds us how easily sentiment can become aged into etiquette. At present, however, he is a man of generous instincts " spoiled ". He needs a salutary upheaval of his home : from afar he prophesies of Thorvald Helmer in A Dolls House. Alcestis herself is a curious study. Innumerable readers have extolled her as one of the noblest figures in Euripides' great gallery of heroines ; this in spite of the fact that she is frigid and unimaginative, ungenerous and basely narrow, in her spiritual and social outlook. One great and noble deed stands to her credit she is voluntarily dying to preserve Admetus' life. Our pro- found respect Alcestis can certainly claim, but the love and pity of which so much is said are scarcely due to her. They are extorted, if at all, by the elaborate 1 vv. 763 sq. 190 GREEK TRAGEDY exertions of the other characters, who vie with one another in painting a picture of the tenderness which has illumined the Pheraean palace like quiet sunshine. But a dramatist cannot build up a great character by a series of testimonies from friends. He has undoubtedly por- trayed an interesting personality, as he always does, but to put her beside creations like Medea and Phaedra is merely absurd. From the beginning of her first intoler- able speech 1 we know her for that frightful figure, the thoroughly good woman with no imagination, no humour, no insight. One hears much of the failures of Euripides ; this is perhaps a real failure. For we are not to sup- pose that the rigidity and coldness of Alcestis are a dexterous stroke of art ; it is not his intention to give a novel, true, and unflattering portrait of a traditional stage favourite, as he so often delighted to do. Everything indicates that he wished to make Alcestis sublime and lovable. But there is a fatal difference between her and the later women. Euripides has realized her from the outside. He has given us in the mouths of the other characters warm descriptions of her charm, but he has not succeeded in drawing a charming woman. She has not " come alive " in his hands. The plot of the Alcestis has been studied by the late Dr. Verrall in an essay 2 of extraordinary skill and interest. He lays special emphasis on certain peculiar features in the treatment. First, Heracles is represented as in no way the sublime demigod who ought to have been depicted, in view of the amazing exploit which awaits him ; the only heroic language put into his mouth is uttered when he is intoxicated, and the account if it can be called such which he gives later of Alcestis' deliverance shows a studied lack of impressiveness. Second, Alcestis is interred with unheard-of speed ; Admetus, seeing her expire, instantly makes ready to convey her body to the tomb. From these facts in chief and from many details Dr. 1 w. 280-325. 3 Euripides the Rationalist, pp. 1-128. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 191 Verrall deduces his theory that Alcestis never dies at all. Her expectation of death (founded on the story about Apollo's bargain) and the atmosphere of mourning which hangs over Admetus' house and capital on the fatal day, have so wrought upon the queen that she finally swoons. Later Heracles visits the tomb, finds Alcestis recovering, and restores her to the king. His annoyance with Admetus, which leads him to allow his host to "think what he pleases," coupled with his own rodomontade at the palace gate, gave rise to the legend that Heracles fought with Death for a woman who had actually quitted life. Finally, the quasi-theological prologue, in which Apollo and Thanatos appear and give warrant to the orthodox rendering of the story, is a mere figment, revealed as such to the discreet by its utterly ungodlike tone, and only tacked on to a quite human drama in order to save the poet from legal indictment as an enemy of current theology. This superb essay has met with wide-spread ad- miration, some adhesion, much opposition, but no refutation. If we are to judge of the existing plays as one mass, the examination of outstanding specimens of rationalism such as the Ion will convince us that the Alcestis is what Dr. Verrall thought it. But this play does stand apart from the rest, as do the Rhesus and the Cyclops. However close it may lie to the Medea in date, it is very early in manner ; a capital in- stance of this, the character of Alcestis, has already been mentioned. The best view is, perhaps, that curious features which in other works might appear so bad as to be evidently intended for some other than the ostensible purpose, are in this case due to inexpertness. 1 For example, the extraordinary fact that Alcestis' rescue 1 The hurried obsequies probably do not fall into this category. We are almost certainly to assume that as Alcestis' sacrifice is to be made on a certain day, that day must see her not only expire, but actually delivered up to the power of death. See Dr. H. W. Hayley's Introduction to the play (pp. xxxi sy.) and my Riddle of the Baccha, pp. 143 W- 192 GREEK TRAGEDY is due to nothing but the drunkenness of Heracles, is perhaps a mere oversight on the poet's part. Similarly the poorness of the last scene may be no cunning device, but comparative poverty of inspiration. It is a tenable view that Euripides intended to write a quite orthodox treatment of the story, but has only partially succeeded in reaching the sureness and bril- liance of his later compositions. 1 The MEDEA (MrJSeta) was produced in 431 B.C. as the first play of a tetralogy containing also Philoctetes, Dictys, and the satyric play The Harvesters (epicrTcu). Euripides obtained only the third prize, and even So- phocles was second to Euphorion, son of y^Eschylus. The scene represents the house of Medea at Corinth. She has come there with her two young sons, and her husband Jason, whom she helped to gain the Golden Fleece in Colchis. Jason has become estranged from Medea, owing to his projected marriage with Glauce, the daughter of King Creon. At this point the play opens. The aged nurse of Medea comes forth and, in one of the most celebrated speeches in Euripides, laments her mistress' flight from Colchis and her sub- sequent troubles ; she fears that Medea will seek revenge. The two boys return from play, attended by their old "paedagogus," who informs his fellow- servant that King Creon intends to banish Medea and her children. The nurse sends them within. The chorus of Corinthian women enter and inquire after Medea, who comes from the house in the deepest distress. She speaks with deep feeling about the sorrows and restraints which society puts upon women, 2 1 1 cannot write with decision about the A Ices t is, because on the one hand universal testimony and opinion date it as only seven years anterior to the Medea, while my own instinct would put it quite twenty years earlier than that play. To me it reads essentially like the work of a young but highly-gifted playwright who has recently lost his wife. 2 These celebrated lines (vv. 230-51) are not in character. They form a splendid and moving criticism of the attitude adopted by the poet's own Athenian contemporaries towards women, but have only a very partial application to herself. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 198 and after a pathetic description of her own forlorn state, begs her visitors to aid by silence if she finds any means of revenge. They have just consented, when Creon appears and orders her to leave the land on the instant, with her children. When she ex- postulates, he explains that he fears her : she is well known as a magician ; moreover, she has uttered threats against himself, his daughter, and Jason. Medea in vain seeks to escape her reputation for "wisdom " ; in spite of her offer to live quietly in Corinth, Creon repeats his behest. By urgent pleading, she obtains from him one day's grace. When the king has de- parted, Medea addresses the chorus with fierce triumph : she now has opportunity for revenge. After considering possible methods, she decides on poison. But first, what refuge is she to find when her plot has succeeded ? she will wait a little, and if no chance of safe retirement shows itself, she will attack her foes sword in hand. The chorus, impressed by her spirit, declare that after all the centuries during which poets have covered women with infamy, now at last honour is coming to their sex. They lament the decay of truth and honour, as shown in Jason's desertion. Jason enters, re- proaching Medea for her folly in alienating the king, but offering help to lighten her banishment. Medea falls upon him in a terrible speech, relating all the benefits she has conferred and the crime she has com- mitted in his cause. Jason replies that it was the Love-God which constrained her to help him, nor is he ungrateful. But she has her reward a reputation among the Greeks for wisdom. He is contracting this new marriage to provide for his children ; Medea's complaints are due to short-sighted jealousy. After a bitter debate, in which Medea scornfully refuses his aid, he retires. The chorus sing the dread power of Love, and lament the wreck which it has made of Medea's life. A stranger enters ALgeus, King of Athens, who has been to Delphi for an oracle which shall remove his childlessness. Medea begs '3 194 GREEK TRAGEDY him to give her shelter in Athens whenever she comes thither from Corinth ; in return for this, she will by her art remove his childlessness. He consents, and withdraws. Sure of her future, Medea now triumphantly expounds her plan. She will make a pretended re- conciliation with Jason and beg that her children be allowed to remain. They are to seek Jason's bride, bearing presents in order to win this favour. These gifts will be poisoned ; the princess and all who touch her will perish. Then she will slay her children to complete the misery of Jason. The chorus in vain protest ; she turns from them and despatches a slave to summon Jason. The choric ode which follows ex- tols, in lines of amazing loveliness, the glory of Attica its atmosphere of wisdom, poetry, and love. But how shall such a land harbour a murderess ? Jason returns, and is greeted by Medea with a speech of contrition by which he is entirely deceived. She calls her children forth, and there is a pathetic scene which affects her, for all her guilty purpose, with genuine emotion. She puts her pretended plan before Jason, and watches the father depart with the two boys and their paedagogus carrying the presents. The ode which follows laments the fatal step that has now been taken. The paedagogus brings the boys back with news that their sentence of exile has been remitted, and that the princess has accepted the gifts. Medea addresses herself to the next task. Now that her plot against Glauce is in train, the children must die. The famous soliloquy which follows exhibits the sway al- ternately exerted over her by maternal love and the thirst for revenge ; after a dreadful struggle she de- termines to obey her " passion " and embrace vengeance. The children are sent within. The next ode is a most painfully real and intimate revelation of a parent's anxiety and sorrows. A messenger hurries up, crying to Medea that she must flee ; Creon and his daughter are both dead. Medea greets his news with cool delight, braces herself for her last deed, and enters the THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 195 house. The chorus utter a desperate prayer to the Sun-god to save his descendants ; but at once the children's cries are heard. Scarcely have they died away when Jason furiously enters, followed by hench- men. His chief thought is to save his children from the vengeance of Creon's kinsmen. The chorus at once tell him they are dead, and how. In frenzy he flings himself upon the door. But he suddenly recoils as the voice of Medea, clear and contemptuous, descends from the air. She is seen on high, driving a magic chariot given to her by the Sun-god. There breaks out a frightful wounding altercation, Jason begging wildly to be allowed to see and to bury his children's bodies, Medea sternly refusing ; she will herself bury them beyond the borders of Corinth. She departs through the air, leaving Jason utterly broken. The literary history of this play is extremely interest- ing, though obscure. First, is it later, or earlier, than the Trachinice ? One general idea is common to the two tragedies ; but the treatment is utterly dissimilar, and one may not unreasonably believe that Sophocles has sought to reprove Euripides, to paint his own conception of a noble wronged wife, and to show how a woman so placed should demean herself. Secondly, there is some reason l to believe that two editions of the Medea were for a time in existence. Euripides almost certainly himself re- modelled the work, presumably for a second "produc- tion," but to what extent it is hard to say. Thirdly, and above all, there is the question of his originality. The longer Greek "argument" asserts that he appears to have borrowed the drama from Neophron and to have x (i) In vv. 1231-5, there is a very clear dittography. That is, either 1231-2, or 1233-5 would serve excellently as a speech of the chorus-leader; but it is unlikely that the poet meant both to be used; (ii) w. 1236-50 read like another and far shorter version of the great soliloquy 1021-80; (iii) it seems odd that Medea, after finally gaining courage to slay her children, should before doing so, be seen again and join in conversations ; (iv) w. 1375-7 give the impression (as Dr. Verrall has pointed out) that the play is to end, not as it does, but with some kind of arrangement between Medea and Jason ; (v) one or two ancient quotations purporting to come from this play are not to be found in our texts. 196 GREEK TRAGEDY introduced alterations. This interesting problem has been discussed elsewhere. 1 Neophron's play, if one is to judge by the style and versification of his brief fragments, should be regarded as written early in the second half of the fifth century. The dramatic structure of the Medea calls for the closest attention. In Sophocles we have observed how that collision of wills and emotions, which is always the soul of drama, arises from the confrontation of two persons. In the present drama that collision takes place in the bosom of a single person. Sophocles would probably have given us a Jason whose claim upon our sympathy was hardly less than that of Medea. Compli- cation, with him, is to be found in his plots, not in his characters. But here we have a subject which has since proved so rich a mine of tragic and romantic interest the study of a soul divided against itself. Medea's wrongs, her passionate resentment, and her plans of re- venge do not merely dominate the play, they are the play from the first line to the close. Certain real or alleged structural defects should be noted. First, we ob- serve the incredible part taken by the chorus ; they raise not a finger to stay the designs of Medea upon the king and his daughter ; and we are given no reason to suppose that they are unfriendly to the royal house. The episode of ygeus, moreover, is puzzling. Though quite necessary in view of Medea's helpless condition and prepared for by her remarks as to a " tower of refuge," 2 it is quite unneeded by one who can command a magic flying chariot. Moreover, this chariot itself has been often censured, notably by Aristotle, 3 who regards it as to all intents and purposes a deus ex machina, and on this ground very properly objects to it. Dr. Verrall's 4 theory meets all these difficulties. He supposes that several of Euripides' plays were originally written for private performance. The Medea, so acted, had no obtrusive chorus, and no miraculous 1 See pp. 21 sq. 2 v. 389 sqq. 3 Poetic^ I454<5. * Four Plays of Eu ripides, pp. 125-30. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 197 escape of the murderess. To the episode of corresponded a finale in which Medea, by allowing her husband to bury the bodies of his children, and by instituting the religious rites referred to in our present text, 1 induced both Jason and the Corinthians to allow her safe passage to Athens. This view, or a view essentially resembling it, must be accepted, not so much because of the absurdity involved (as it appears to us) by the presence of the chorus, as the utter futility of the ygeus-scene in the present state of the text. The characterization shows Euripides at his best. In the heroine he gives us the first and possibly the finest of his marvellous studies in feminine human nature. Alcestis he viewed and described from without ; Medea he has imagined from within. Her passionate love, which is so easily perverted by brutality into murderous hate, her pride, will-power, ferocity, and daemonic energy, are all depicted with flawless mastery and sympathy. Desperate and cruel as this woman shows herself, she is no cold-blooded plotter. Creon has heard of her unguarded threats, and his knowledge wellnigh ruins her project. Her first words to Jason, " thou utter villain," followed by a complete and ap- palling indictment of his cynicism 2 and ingratitude, are not calculated to lull suspicion. But however pas- sionate, she owns a splendid intellect. She faces facts 3 ' and understands her weaknesses. When seeking an advantage, she can hold herself magnificently in hand. The pretended reconciliation with Jason is a scene of weird thrill for the spectators. Her archness in dis- cussing his influence over the young princess is almost hideous ; and while she weeps in his arms we remember with sick horror her scornful words after practising successfully the same arts on the king. Above all, there is here no petulant railing at " unjust gods," or " blind fate". Her undoing in the past has come from " trust in the words of a man that is a Greek " ; 4 her present 1 W. 1381-3. 2 V. 472 : dvatStia. 3 V. 364 KCIKMS TTfTrpanrai iravTaxfi ris dvTfpti; * W. oOI Sf. 198 GREEK TRAGEDY murderous rage springs from no Ate 1 but from her own passion (0v/ios). The dramatist has set himself to express human life in terms of humanity. Jason is a superb study a compound of brilliant manner, stupidity, and cynicism. If only his own desires, interests, and comforts are safe, he is prepared to confer all kinds of benefits. The kindly, breezy words which he addresses to his little sons must have made hundreds of excellent fathers in the audience feel for a moment a touch of personal baseness "am I not something like this ? " That is the moral of Jason and countless personages of Euripides : they are so detest- able and yet so like ourselves. Jason indeed dupes himself as well as others. He really thinks he is kind and gentle, when he is only surrendering to an emotional atmosphere. His great weakness is the mere perfection of his own egotism ; he has no power at all to realize another's point of view. Throughout the play he simply refuses to believe that Medea feels his desertion as she asserts. For him her complaints are "empty words". 1 To the very end his self-centred stupidity is almost pathetic : " didst thou in truth determine on their death for the sake of wifely honour ? " 2 One of the most deadly things in the play hangs on this blindness. Medea has just asked him, with whatever smile she can summon up, to induce "your wife " to procure pardon for the children. Jason, instead of destroying himself on the spot in self-contempt, replies courteously: " By all means ; and I imagine that I shall persuade her, if she is like the rest of women "- 3 Considering all the cir- cumstances, this is perhaps unsurpassed for shameless brutality. Medea, however, with a gleam in her eye which one may imagine, answers with equal urbanity, even with quiet raillery. She has perhaps no reason to complain ; it is precisely this portentous insensibility which will secure her success. 1 v. 450. a v. 1367. * vv. 944 sq . Two MSS., however (followed by Murray), give the second line to Medea. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 199 The minor characters are, in their degree, excellently drawn Creon above all. His short scene is unforget- table ; it is that familiar sight a weak man encouraging himself to firmness by exaggerating his own severity. His delicious little grumble, " my chivalrous instincts have got me into trouble more often than I like to think of," l stamps him as the peer of Dogberry and Justice Shallow. As a piece of Greek, the Medea is perhaps the finest work of Euripides. The iambics have a simple brilliance and flexible ease which had been unknown hitherto, and which indeed were never rivalled after- wards. Such things as uv yap rt p' Tj8iKT)Kas ; ee8ov OTO) ere dvp&s in Medea's appeal to Creon, or Jason's rebuke to her : irav nepSos fjyov ^r)fuovfj,fvr) XOV TCKVO, flv tifj.VTjfj.ovS> ; * in lolaus' conversations with Hyllus' thrall, and the lyric phrase & 8' opera fiaivei 8ia fj.6^8(i>v 5 1 In the Peloponnesian war. The Spartans were believed the descen- dants of Hyllus and his brothers. 2 Professor Murray, however, supposes another lacuna here, and thinks there were two semi -choruses, one party supporting Alcmena, the other disagreeing. 3 Even in ancient times it seems to have enjoyed little attention. 4 v. 638. *v. 625. 202 GREEK TRAGEDY haunt the ear. Moreover, the chivalry with which Demophon and his citizens champion the helpless must have stirred Athenian hearts. But our pleasure is repeatedly checked by incidents grotesque, horrible, or inexplicable. To the first category belongs the absurd scene in which lolaus totters away amid badinage to do battle with Argos. There is a comic note, again, in the scene where Alcmena for the first time appears and sup- poses that Hyllus' messenger is another hostile herald from Argos. As we know who he is, her attack on him shows that painful mixture of the pathetic and the ludicrous which so often marks Euripides' work ; here the comic prevails over the touching. Secondly, the interview in which Eurystheus is presented to Alcmena, who gloats at her ease over him, is horrible, however natural. And finally the inexplicable or at least puzzling features are perhaps the most striking of all. The first difficulty concerns the personality which forms the background of the whole ; the apotheosis of Heracles is treated in equivocal fashion throughout. lolaus 1 alone seems entirely convinced. Alcmena, after news of the victory to which her son has given miraculous aid, utters the candid words : 2 After long years, O Zeus, my woes have touched thee, Yet take my thanks for all that hath been wrought. My son though erstwhile I refused belief I know in truth doth dwell amid the gods. And her faith is echoed in less prosaic language 3 by the chorus, who proclaim the falsehood of the story that Heracles after his passing by fire went down to the abode of Hades ; in truth he dwells in Heaven and in the golden court lives as the spouse of Hebe. But these confessions are due to the marvels on the battle-field, marvels upon which the narrator himself takes pains to throw grave doubt. 4 Macaria, though she has every 1 vv. 9 Jjr., 540. a vv. 869 sqq. * w. 910 sqq. 4 Down to v. 847 his story contains nothing superhuman. Then " up to this point I saw with mine own eyes ; the rest of my tale depends THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 203 reason 1 to dilate on the glories of her father, speaks of him but briefly and with only the normal filial re- spect. 2 Of the others, Copreus ignores him ; from the man's character we expect sneers and refutations of the miraculous stories such as are put by our poet in the mouth of Lycus. 3 Eurystheus speaks of him generously, but in terms which imply that he has never heard, much less accepted, the marvellous accounts of his enemy : " I knew thy son was no mere cypher, but in good sooth a man ; for even though he was mine enemy, yet will I speak well of him, that man of worth ". 4 Demophon himself, the champion of Heracles' children, even when he has been reminded (by lolaus) how the hero rescued Theseus, father of Demophon, from Hades itself, in his reply treats this overwhelming claim ambiguously and with nothing more than politeness. 5 All this seems to show the dramatist's belief that Heracles was simply a " noble man " an ecr^Xo? dvr)p whose divine traits are the offspring of minds like those of lolaus and Alcmena, whose sagacity throughout the drama is painfully low. Macaria's fate, also, at first sight causes perplexity. After she leaves the scene, nothing 6 more is heard of her. When and where she dies we are not told ; the promise 7 of lolaus that she shall be honoured by him in death, as in life, above all women, produces no effect on hearsay," rairo rov8' fj8r) K\VO>V Aeyoi/*' av aAX&>i>, 8fvpo 8' avros\el(ri8a>v' And when he mentions the identification of the miraculous lights with Hebe and Heracles, he attributes the theory to of o-o^wrepot, " cleverer heads than mine," as we may translate it. 1 The oracle has demanded the daughter of " a well-bom father," and she of course mentions her own qualification in this respect, without proceeding to dilate (as one would think inevitable in Euripides or any- one else) on the quite unrivalled " nobility " of her father. 2 vv. 513, 563. 3 Hercules Furens,vv. 151-64. 4 vv. 997-9 ; v. 990, referring to the hostility of Hera, is too vague to stand as a warrant for the divine birth of Heracles. 5 vv. 240 sq. 6 It has been thought that vv. 819-22 indicate the sacrifice of the maiden. They describe the soothsayers' offering just before the battle : dfpiecrav Aat/iaii' ftporfiaiv tvdvs ovpiov v is right (though ftoTfiatv, " of sheep," is a tempting alteration) the reference to the girl's heroism is brutally curt. 7 vv. 597 sgg. 204 GREEK TRAGEDY for we are told nothing about her burial ; whether the advent of Hyllus' reinforcements should or does make any difference to the necessity for the sacrifice is not discussed. But there is good reason to suppose that a whole episode, on Macaria's death, has been lost. The army of Hyllus is the most astonishing feature in the play. All the action and all the pathos depend upon the helplessness which involves the Heracleidae. Every other city has rejected them ; if Athens fails all is lost so we are told repeatedly. 1 Yet at the last moment Hyllus returns with a positive army. Whence has it come ? How can lolaus have been ignorant that such aid was possible? We are told nothing. The Athenian leaders apparently, lolaus and Alcmena 2 certainly, receive these incredible tidings with no feeling save placid satisfaction. Finally, if this drama is composed in order to extol the nobility of Athens in espousing the cause of the weak, it is extraordinary that so dubious an example should be selected. The suppliants are ancestors of those very Spartans who, when the drama was produced, were the bitter and dangerous enemies of Athens. Was not her ancient kindness in saving the first generation of these foes a piece of folly ? Eurystheus points this moral at the close. 3 Alcmena herself, in her cold ferocity 4 and her quibbling 5 over the dues of piety, is a clear prophecy of what fifth-century Athenians most detested in the Spartan character. Moreover, the plea of Copreus is perfectly just : Argos has a right to punish her own people if condemned ; whether they were wrongly so condemned is no concern of Athens. The upshot seems to be that Eurystheus has a bitter quarrel with a powerful noble, so bitter that when his enemy dies the king dares not leave his children at 1 There is, however, in vv. 45-7 an isolated statement which vaguely contradicts this. 2 Her remark on hearing the news (v. 665) : TOV& ovKf6' rjplv TOV \6yov ori 817, sets the seal upon her utter feebleness of mind. 3 vv. 1035-7. 4 vv. 1049-52 and elsewhere in the last scene. 5 vv. 1020-5. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 205 large. Through the sentimental weakness of her ruler Athens is drawn into the dispute, and history shows that she made a frightful mistake. The HiPPOLYTUS l v tlvai 0f\nv. 2 vv. 493-6. 3 vv. 507^. 4 vv. 1034 sq. 8 vv. 415 sqq. Compare her whole attitude. Indeed the poet suggests, as at any rate a collateral reason for her destruction of Hippolytus, a fear that he will reveal her secret (vv. 689-92). THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 213 of ethics lies in man himself. For Phaedra there is no soul on which she can rely but her own ; the conflict must be fought out within herself. The great speech l in which she tells her spiritual history to the chorus without any reserve or faltering, is the kernel of the tragedy. We realize how empty of all comfort life can be for those who resolutely reject outworn creeds and turn to seek for a better. Here is no thought, no hint, of a saviour ; the puny soul must struggle alone with an uncomprehended universe. .^Eschylus had found a saviour in Zeus ; 2 Euripides can see no comfort in gods who are less virtuous than men. In this speech, too, we note for the first time a portrayal of moral temptation and a clear conception of conscience. Sophocles under- stands well how duty can brace the soul to heroic life or death, but for him the sanction of duty lies in the will of external deities. For Euripides conscience is sufficient as a rule of conduct. Phaedra is a masterpiece of characterization. What- ever we are to guess of the earlier 3 picture, she is here a noble and spirited woman, who cannot help her in- stincts but who can and will dispute their power over her life. She is, of course, not perfect if she were she would be no fit subject for drama and the manner in which Euripides has caused the action to hinge precisely upon her weaknesses, without lessening our respect and affection, is one of the most improving studies provided by dramatic art. The little crevices of circumstance by which wrong-doing the destruction of Hippolytus creeps into her soul are beautifully indicated. She is wasted by fasting, 4 a state conducive to keener percep- tion and weaker will. She has been brought without any attempt on her part, so surely she may indulge in the disastrous joy 5 from Athens to the little town where the prince lives. Her husband, as it chances, 6 is from 1 w. 373-430. a Agamemnon, vv. 160-83. 3 In the first edition of the play, to which it seems that most of the ancient strictures apply. 4 vv. 135-40. 5 v. 384 : repifvov KOKOV, 6 V. 28l : (<8r]fios &t> yap TrjvUf rvy^avti %6ovos, 214 GREEK TRAGEDY home and her life is left empty for " long, long thoughts ". l When she dwells upon her passion the recollection of her mother's and her sister's fate half attracts while it half repels. 2 Her passionate nature insists on revealing some part of her distress to the keen eyes of the nurse, who forthwith joins the claims of old affection 3 to this new secret pain. So it is that she is half-conquered by what she will not do : Nay, in God's name, forbear ! Thy words are vile But wise withal. Love in my soul too well Hath mined his way. Urge sin thus winningly And passion sweeps my fears into the gulf. 4 But the nurse will not forbear, and the comforting promise of a charm which shall "still this disease," 5 as Phaedra perhaps half-suspects, 6 is an undertaking to win Hippolytus. The dread strain of illness, passion, and shame have turned the woman for a moment into a nervous child. 7 Thus it comes about that without dis- grace, without forfeiture of her conscience, Phaedra moves towards the dread moment 8 at which she hears the outcry of Hippolytus. Then after all the anguish, she listens to his intolerable endless speech ! Such is the situation in which murder is conceived. In this way Hippolytus' a-tofypocrvvr) has certainly been his undoing. 9 We are told 10 that this play is a second version of the theme, and that it was called The Crowned Hip- polytus (from the lovely address to Artemis) to dis- tinguish it from the first, called The Veiled Hippolytus. This version (now lost) is said to have contained " im- 1 V. 384 : paxpai Tt \f(T\ai KOI cr^oA^, rtpirvov KOKOV. 2 vv. 337 sqq. 3 v. 328, etc. 4 vv. 503-6. 5 v. 512. 8 See Professor Murray's admirable remarks (p. 81 of his translation). 7 In the trivial question, v. 516 : irortpa fit xP t ; she is dangerously toying with the proposal. The nurse's reply is a half- quaint, half-heartbreaking quotation from childish days when the little Phaedra was querulous with her " medicine " as now : ovaadai, pr) padfiv, /SouXft, TtKVOV. 8 We notice incidentally the amazing dexterity shown by the line (565) in which she announces her discovery : erty^o-ar', & yvi>aipTiv dvmftoros, "My tongue hath sworn; my soul abides unsworn." This seems to give us the measure of the comic poet's criticism ; he blames Euripides for this sentiment, and yet Hippolytus even in his most desperate trouble will not clear himself by breaking his oath. One cannot, how- ever, refrain from pointing out that even if he had broken it, Theseus would not have believed him, 5 and that Hip-^ polytus realizes this. 6 The HECUBA ('E/ca/Si]) is the next play in order of date ; it was performed about 425 B.C. 7 This tragedy was enormously popular throughout antiquity, as the great volume of the scholia proves. It was one of the three plays the others were Phcenisscz and Orestes used as an Euripidean reading-book in the Byzantine schools. The scene is laid in Thrace, where the Greeks are encamped after the fall of Troy ; the background is a tent wherein captive Trojan women are quartered. The ghost of Polydorus, Priam's youngest son, tells how he has been murdered by the Thracian king, Polymestor ; he has appeared in a dream to his mother Hecuba. On his departure, Hecuba enters, and soon learns that her 1 In our play the poet leaves his heroine silent on this topic, but hints it himself for us. See vv. 151-54,967-70. 2 Frogs, 1041 ; Thesm. 497, 547. 3 Frogs, 101, 1467 ; Thesm. 275-6. * Hipp. 612. 5 w. 960 sy., 1076 sq. * w. 1060-3. 7 Aristophanes in the Clouds (v. 1 165 sq.} parodies vv. ij^sq. The Clouds was produced in 423 B.C. In Hecuba, v. 462, reference seems to be made to the re-establishment of the Delian festival in 426 B.C. 216 GREEK TRAGEDY daughter Polyxena is to be sacrificed at the tomb of Achilles. Odysseus comes to fetch the maiden, who welcomes death as a relief from slavery. Soon Talthy- bius enters, summoning Hecuba to bury Polyxena, whose noble death has filled the Greeks with admiration. Hecuba sends a woman to fetch sea-water for the obsequies, and this messenger returns with the body of Polydorus. Hecuba exclaims that the murderer is Polymestor : her dream has told her. Agamemnon enters, and she induces him to connive at her taking vengeance upon the Thracian, his ally. Next she sends for Polymestor and his children, and (after a beautiful ode on the last hours of Troy), they arrive. Polymestor is induced to go with his little sons within the tent, where they are slaughtered and he himself blinded. His cries bring back Agamemnon, who rejects the pleas of Polymestor. The Thracian, in his despair, prophesies the strange end both of Agamemnon and of Hecuba. He is dragged away, and the drama ends with preparations for the voyage to Greece. This tragedy, let it be said plainly, is on the whole poor and uninteresting. 1 It has been frequently noted, for example, that the plot is "episodic," that it falls into two divisions, the story of Polyxena and the vengeance upon Polymestor, which are really two small dramas 1 Its popularity in Byzantine times is no bar to this statement. Prob- ably all the three plays, Hecuba, Ph&nissa, and Orestes, were chosen because the Greek was comparatively easy. Euripides was already suf- ficiently ancient to make this an important consideration. Miss L. E. Matthaers essay should, however, be read (Studies in Greek Tragedy, pp. 118-57). With admirable insight and skill this scholar seeks to show that the Hecuba is a study, first, of " conventional " justice, the claim of the community, shown in the sacrifice of Polyxena ; and, secondly, of "natural" justice, seen in Hecuba's revenge. Miss Matthaei's treatment, however subjective, is trenchant and illuminating, especially as regards the psychology of Hecuba and Odysseus, the value of Polyxena's surrender, and the finale. But concerning the vital point, lack of dramatic unity, she has little to say, apparently only the sugges- tion (p. 140) that "the cumulative effect of finding the body of Polydorus after having seen Polyxena taken away is the deciding factor ; otherwise the end of the play would have been simply unbelievable ". The strength of this argument is very doubtful, THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 217 with no genuine connexion. To this it has been replied that the spiritual history of Hecuba supplies unity to the whole ; that these episodes bring out her development from a victim into a fiend. 1 But this is scarcely satis- factory. For the two parts are developed so completely along their several lines, they have so little dependence upon one another, that they could stand apart ; and that is the real test. Further, the poet himself is uneasy. He is anxious to make some sort of connexion, but it is curiously adventitious. His device, that the corpse of Polydorus is discovered by the woman sent for water wherewith to bathe the body of Polyxena, has won too high praise. An attempt to strengthen it, or rather to draw attention to its neatness, is supplied in the con- versation between Hecuba and Agamemnon: 2 "How did he die ? " " By the hands of his Thracian host." . . . " Who brought his body hither ? " . . . " This woman. She found it upon the sea-shore." " Was she looking for it, or busied with some other task ? " The last question is absurd ; Agamemnon has no reason to ask it. Other little hooks, 3 less obtrusive than this, are provided here and there to connect the two parts. If the play were an unity they would not be needed. Again, the favourite charge against Euripides, that he delights in quasi-judicial disputes, is brought in here also. The accusation is generally unfair. Critics have been so eager to condemn this poet that they forget the trial scene of the Eumenides, the altercation between CEdipus and Creon in the CEdipus at Colonus and various other passages in the earlier tragedians. If a dispute occurs at all, it is in accordance with the genius of Greek tragedy to set it out in formally opposed speeches. One might as well complain of Hamlet's solilo- quies. But in the Hecuba there is more than this. The queen has a gusto not merely for eloquent appeals or invective, but for self-conscious rhetoric, " Filled with 1 See Mr. Hadley's admirable Introduction to the play (pp. ix-xii). 3 W. 779 s#' f^et rpix^para, a grotesque thought which we have just heard (as Murray points out in his apparatus] from Iphigenia as part of her dream. 4 w. 281 sqq. s vv. 961 sqq. 252 GREEK TRAGEDY past deceptions, he is pathetically enthusiastic for the latest nostrum. 1 The long account 2 of his sorrows which he gives his sister is full of such sinister meaning. He essays to describe the origin of the court which tried him : " There is a holy . . . vote? which long ago Zeus founded for Ares owing to some blood-guiltiness, whatever it was. ..." He has forgotten half the facts, and bungles the rest. This speech, full of obscurity, irrelevancy, and disconnected thought, is practically ignored by his sister, who realizes his condition both from the report of the herdsman and from the occasional lunacy he manifests in conversation. 4 Orestes, too, knows 5 how it is with him, and the complete absence of lament on his part when faced with death is one of the grimmest things in the drama. The ELECTRA C ('HXeicT/m) was probably acted in 413 B.C. 7 The scene is laid before the cottage of a peasant, who explains that he is the husband of Electra, but in name only ; she comes forth and they depart to their several tasks. Orestes and Pylades arrive ; Orestes has come at Apollo's bidding to avenge his father, at whose tomb he has offered sacrifice. Seeing Electra they retire. She is invited to a festival by the chorus of Argive women, but refuses, urging her sorrow and poverty. The two strangers approach, Orestes pretend- ing that he has been sent by her brother for tidings of her ; she gives him a passionate message begging Orestes to exact vengeance. The peasant returns and I Qfas ftperas is now the prescription, as we may call it. Cp. vv. 980, 985-6, and 1038-40. II vv. 939 sgq. *^0or (v. 945). He means "assembly (which votes)," but he has ^f}os on the brain, as well he might have (vv. 965 sy.). 4 VV. 739 s f- an d 1046: Hv\d8rjs ft' 58' fjft.lv nov reraeru (frovov if this is a task set by Apollo there must be murder in it. 6 v. 933- 8 Arrangement : protagonist, Electra; deuteragonist, Orestes, Cly- taemnestra ; tritagonist, farmer, old man, messenger, Castor. Pylades and Polydeuces were represented by a mute actor. 7 From vv. 1347-56 it is clear that the Sicilian expedition had already sailed, but that news of the disaster had not yet reached Athens. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 253 sends the strangers within as his guests ; the chorus sing the expedition to Troy. An aged shepherd enters with the provisions for which Electra sent, and tells her that he has seen upon Agamemnon's tomb a sacrifice and a votive lock of hair. He in vain seeks to convince Electra that her brother must be in Argos, but later recognizes Orestes by a scar. Brother and sister em- brace with joy ; after passionate prayers to Agamemnon's shade he departs to seek yEgisthus. The chorus sing the crime of Thyestes which caused sun and stars to change their course. A messenger relates how ,/Egis- thus has been cut down by Orestes in the midst of a religious service ; the avengers return with the body, over which Electra gloats. Clytaemnestra is seen ap- proaching, lured by a story that Electra has given birth to a child. Orestes feels remorse, but is hardened by his sister, who awaits her mother alone. A dispute follows about the queen's past, but Clytaemnestra refuses to quarrel, and goes within to perform the birth-ritual. Soon her cries are heard, and Orestes and Electra re- enter, filled with grief and shame. In the sky appear Castor and Polydeuces (Pollux), brothers of Clytaem- nestra, who blame the matricide, which they attribute to Apollo ; then they depart to the Sicilian sea to save mariners who are righteous and unperjured. Special interest clings to this play, because here only can we see Euripides traversing precisely the same ground as ^schylus (in the Choephorce) and Sophocles (in the Electro], This similarity of subject long damaged Euripides' play in the eyes of critics. It was assumed that the youngest poet was imitating his fore- runners, and it needed small acumen to observe that the imitation was bad. Whereupon, instead of wonder- ing whether perhaps Euripides was after all not copying others, critics proceeded to write cheerful nonsense about " frivolity " and " a profound falling off in art and taste". 1 The fact simply is that each of these three 1 Bernhardy, Geschichte der griechischen Poesie II, ii. p. 490. 254 GREEK TRAGEDY tragedians discussed the story from a different viewpoint. /Eschylus treated it as a religious fact, Sophocles as an emotional fact, Euripides as an ethical fact, ^schylus is on the side of Apollo, Sophocles on the side of Electra, Euripides on the side of no one. He asks himself what circumstances, what perversions of character, can result in this matricide. Hence his careful study of Clytsemnestra, Electra, and Orestes, so careful that a reader at first supposes the poet a partisan of Clyta^mnestra. Not so ; he has merely tried to understand her. A placid woman of quick but shallow affections, she was abandoned by her husband for ten years to the memory of a murdered daughter. Delightfully characteristic is her argument : " Suppose Menelaus had been stolen from home ; would it have been right for me to slay Orestes that Helen might regain her husband ? " * Vigorous and damaging, this is yet tinged with comedy by its raw novelty and precision. One almost overhears the commerages of the street-corner. When Agamemnon brought back openly a concubine to his home, Clytsemnestra assisted 2 her lover in anticipating the king's revenge by murdering him. From this act she has drifted into condoning cruelty against her unoffending children ; throughout she has acted wickedly and acquiesced in worse conduct by others. Nevertheless, she is no figure of tragedy ; she only suggests tragedy because she is the mother of her executioners. Her chief love is placid domesticity ; if this can be obtained only by murdering those who threaten it, that is very terrible, but the world is notori- ously imperfect. Clytaemnestra cannot, and will not, meet Electra on the tragic plane. Her daughter's great outburst and threat of murderous vengeance she meets in this comfortable fashion : " My child, it was always your nature to love your father. It often happens so. Some favour the male side, while others love their mother rather than their father. I forgive you : for 1 vv. 1041-3. a w. 9-10. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 255 in truth I rejoice not greatly, child, in the acts that I have done. . . . But you ! unwashed and shabby in attire ! " . . . And so forth. Clytsemnestra is almost as ill-tuned to the atmosphere which Electra con- stantly and deliberately creates as Sancho Panza to the high converse of his master. The queen has been summoned to her daughter's cottage by report of a newly-born infant. She shows her natural goodness of heart by hurrying thither at once (though of course she has not the taste to leave her gorgeous retinue behind) and doing all she can to comfort and help her daughter. By this time she has all unconsciously "taken the wind out of the sails" of the avengers. But Electra can maintain her grimness and actually utter black hints of a wedding-bed in the grave ! * We turn next to her ; what manner of woman can this be ? Electra is one of Euripides' most vivid and successful female characters. She has strong claims on our pity and sympathy, but fails to win them. Her mother is a ready victim of any emotion which breathes upon her ; Electra has settled her position emotionally, intellec- tually, morally, years ago. Nothing can alter her; she is the victim and the apostle of an idee fixe. The crimes of love are no less frightful than the crimes of hate ; in Electra affection for Agamemnon has become the basis of cold ferocity against Clytaemnestra. It is Orestes who shrinks when the deed is to be done, Electra who braces his resolution. She has borne no child. Instead of beginning a new life in her children, looking to the future, she has fed morbidly upon memories, stiffening natural grief and resentment into permanent inhuman morosity. Clytaemnestra has blandly outlived two murders in her own family, and remains neither unamiable nor uninteresting ; but it is impossible to imagine what Electra will do, say, or think, after the events of to-day. This unnatural self- concentration, which means not only her mother's death 1 1142-6. 256 GREEK TRAGEDY but her own spiritual suicide, is mainly the result of her childlessness. And it is on this that Euripides lays his finger. " Announce that I have given birth to a male child .... Then, when she has come, of course it is her death." This plot of Electra is possibly the most brilliantly skilful and most terrible stroke in all the poet's work. It indicates the source of her heartlessness, it provides an excellent dramatic motive for the queen's arrival, and it shows, as nothing else could show, the fiendishness of a woman who can use just this pretext to the very woman who gave her birth. She relies upon the sanctity of motherhood to aid her in trampling upon it. Her first words, as she slips forth to join her husband beneath the star-lit sky, show how the heavens themselves remind her that she has had no infant at her breast during the night-watches : " Black Night, thou Nurse of golden stars". 2 Moreover, not only does she feel her sorrows, she enjoys the sense of martyrdom. Her wrongs and present trials she is capable of exagger- ating ; 8 at every opportunity she exploits them for purposes of self-pity, as her husband hints more than once. 4 Orestes, living in exile, has escaped the blight of Electra only to become a criminal with no illusions, proud of his worldly experience, witness the blundering disquisition on " the true gentleman," 5 and his cynical comments on his humble brother-in-law. 6 H is onslaught upon ^gisthus from behind proves him at the best deficient in gallantry, and on the matricide itself nothing need be said. We can pity Orestes for his fearful position, but he is a poor creature. The Electra, in fact, is a clear-sighted attack upon the morality of blood- feuds. The poet feels that ^gisthus and Clytaem- 1 vv. 652-60. a v. 54. 3 The peasant tells us that Electra's banishment to the country is due to her mother's efforts when yEgisthus wished to kill her (vv. 25 sqq.}. Electra puts the matter very differently (vv. 60 sq.}. The horrible story in vv. 326 sqq. is probably untrue ; cp. o>r Xryovo-tv. 4 w. 77-8, 354 sq. 6 w. 367 sqq. 6 vv. 255 sqq. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 257 nestra, left so long unmolested, should have been left alone still ; if Apollo at Delphi, and the peasant in his Argive cottage, had estimated human nature more wisely, this horror would have been escaped, and no harm done. To punish the guilty is not always a virtue ; often it is a debauch of self-glory, and some- times the worst of villainies. As always, the poet regards the " oracle," which com- manded matricide, as an offence to civilization. But there is novelty in the extreme candour with which this is put forward. The Dioscuri repeatedly stigmatize its murderous command as " foolishness " or worse. 1 Equally outspoken are the chorus, who devote the last stanza of their lovely song on the Golden Lamb and Thyestes' crime to a brilliant denial of its truth. . . . "But legends that fill men with dread are profitable to divine worship " 2 it is admirably put, and may rank with the epigrams of Ovid 3 and Voltaire. 4 As for the Dioscuri, it is impossible to speak without affection of such quaint and charming figures. Their converse with Electra and the chorus is an irresistible combination of dignity and a breezy contempt for official reticence. In his first long ex cathedra speech Castor is on the verge of saying what he really thinks of Phcebus Apollo, remem- bers himself just in time, and then gives a broad hint after all. 5 In the less formal talk which follows, these bluff naval deities show a soundness of heart and a simplicity as to the meaning of great affairs which recall delightfully the traditional nautical character of modern literature. The anguish of brother and sister who after long years meet for a few frightful hours only to part for ever awakes their instant deep sympathy. 6 On the other side these subordinate deities are assuredly in a maze as to the theological problem into which they have strayed. " How was it," ask the Argive women, 1 vv. 1294, 1296^., 1302. a vv. 737-45- 3 Expedit esse decs. 4 " If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him," 5 vv. 1245 S 7' * vv ' 17 258 GREEK TRAGEDY very pertinently, " that you, being gods and brothers of the woman that hath perished, did not repel destruc- tion from the house ? " Electra, too, would know why she was involved in the matricide. In answer the Brethren offer a bundle of reasons some one of which ought surely to be right : " the fate of necessity," " the guidance of doom," "the foolish utterances of Phoebus' tongue," "a partnership in act and in destiny," "the ancestral curse "- 1 Even if traditional phrases could solve the problem of human sin, these simple souls are not qualified to use or expound them. One incident in the Electra is of particular interest to the historian of literature. The peedagogus seeks to convince Electra that the mysterious visitor to Aga- memnon's tomb is her brother. He offers certain evi- dences which she contemptuously rejects. There can be no doubt that this scene is a criticism of the Recognition in ^Eschylus' Choepkorce. The severed lock of hair, the footprint, and the embroidered cloth, appear in both scenes. Electra rejects all these clues. How can the hair of an athletic man resemble the soft tresses of a woman ? Is not a man's foot larger than a woman's ? Will the full-grown Orestes wear the same garment as an infant? But Euripides' attack is probably mistaken. 2 We may suppose that ^schylus could have seen these objections ; and it is quite possible that tradition told of physical peculiarities in the Pelopid family. As for the embroidered garment, y'Eschylus does not call it so. It may well have been a cloth preserved by Orestes. However this may be, we have here the most distinct example of Euripides' criticism of an earlier poet. HELEN 3 ('EXeV^), or Helena, was produced in 41 2 B.C. The scene represents the palace of Theoclymenus, the 1 vv. 1301-7. The first line, polpd r' dvayKrjs %y y rj TO xpf<*>v, is an exceptionally fine instance of misty verbiage. ' 2 See VerralFs discussion in his edition of the Choephorae (Introd. pp. xxxiii-lxx). 8 Probable Arrangement : protagonist, Helen, the god (whether Castor or Pollux) ; deuteragonist, Teucer, Menelaus, Egyptian messenger ; tri- tagonist, old woman, Greek messenger, Theonoe, Theoclymenus. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 259 young Egyptian king, with the tomb of his father Pro- teus. Helen relates that Hera gave Paris a phantom in place of the true Helen. While Greeks and Trojans fought for a wraith, she herself has lived in Egypt, wait- ing for Menelaus. Theoclymenus now seeks her hand ; she has taken sanctuary in Proteus' tomb. Teucer enters to consult Theonoe, the king's prophetess-sister. On seeing Helen he barely refrains from shooting her, but realizing his " mistake " talks with the stranger, re- vealing that Menelaus and " Helen " have apparently been lost at sea. Helen sends him off and breaks into lamentation for Menelaus, but is advised by the chorus of captive Greek maidens to consult the omniscient Theonoe. She agrees, and they accompany her into the palace. Menelaus enters, a pitiable shipwrecked figure. He has left " Helen " and his comrades in hiding, and is looking for help. When he knocks at the palace-door the portress repels him with the warning that the king is hostile to Greeks because Helen is within his house. Menelaus is thunderstruck, but de- termines to await Theoclymenus. The chorus and Helen return in joy, for Menelaus, they learn, still lives. Menelaus comes forward ; after a moment his wife re- cognizes and would embrace him, but he repels the stranger. One of his companions arrives announcing that " Helen " has vanished. As he ends his tale he sees the true Helen, who he supposes has played a practical joke ; but Menelaus falls into her arms. They plot escape, but realize that all depends upon the omni- scient Theonoe ; she comes forth, and, explaining that she has a casting-vote in a dispute which to-day takes place in Heaven between Hera and Aphrodite, decides to aid the suppliants. When she has withdrawn it is arranged that Menelaus shall pretend he is the sole survivor, Menelaus being drowned ; Helen is to gain permission to offer funeral-rites at sea. The chorus raise a beautiful song concerning Helen's woes and the Trojan war. Theoclymenus enters and is easily hoodwinked. After an ode on Demeter's search for 260 Persephone, the plotters are sent on their way by the king. The chorus sing of Helen's voyage and pray the Dioscuri to convoy their sister. A messenger hurries in and tells of the escape ; the Egyptian crew has been massacred by Menelaus' followers. Theoclymenus would take vengeance upon his sister, but is checked by the Dioscuri, who explain that all has occurred by the will of Zeus. Two aspects of this play are unmistakable and ap- parently incompatible. The plot closely resembles that of the Iphigenia in Tauris ; the style and manner of treatment are curiously light. What can have been Euri- pides' purpose in repeating, after so short an interval, a copy of that grim masterpiece, and to execute it in this light-hearted fashion ? The Helen is in no possible sense a tragedy. At the point where the audience should be spell-bound by suspense and dread the cajoling of the king we are relieved from all oppression by the facility with which the captives succeed. Theo- clymenus is an imbecile who gives them all they need with his eyes shut. The earlier action is robbed of all power by the superhuman attributes of Theonoe. How can, or need, Helen have any doubts concerning her husband with an all-knowing friend at hand? The central datum, that only a phantom fled to Troy and returned therefrom with Menelaus, is utterly destructive of tragic atmosphere. In the Recognition-scene the pos- sibility of pathos is drowned in absurdity : the messenger suddenly turns to find his mistress smiling at his elbow and greets her with relief : " Ah, hail, daughter of Leda, here you are after all ! " * Teucer's scene, besides pro- viding a palmary instance of bad construction (for his function is merely to cause Helen anxiety about her husband's fate, which one might have expected to arouse her curiosity earlier in the course of these seventeen years), is in itself absurd. After coming all this distance to consult Theonoe about his route, he is sent away dvyartp, (V0d8* rjaff apa ; THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 261 happy (without seeing the prophetess) by Helen's sug- gestion, " You will pick out your way as you go along ' .* Equally curious is the diction. Brilliantly idiomatic as are the iambics, they are almost everywhere light, loose in texture, almost colloquial. Such things 2 as ep T\V Se 877 vu>v /AT) aTToSe^Tjrai Xoyovs ; fjv yap et^o/iei' 6d\a.(T daveiv, are typical of the whole atmos- phere. Even the lyrics glow with prettiness rather than beauty ; lovely as are the Naiad 3 and the Nightin- gale 4 they mitigate in no degree the flimsiness of the whole. Theonoe herself, in an outrageous passage, 5 brings the mockery to a climax : " This very day among the gods there is to be strife and conference concerning thee before the throne of Zeus. Hera, who was thine enemy before, is kindly to thee now, and would bring thee safe to thy home-country with this thy wife, so that Greece may learn how Paris' love, the gift of Cypris, was but a mockery. But Cypris would fain deny thee thy home-return, that it may never come to light how in Helen's case she bought the prize of beauty with bridals that were naught. And the decision lies with me, whether, as Cypris wishes, I shall destroy thee by revealing thy presence to my brother, or whether I shall join Hera and save thy life." We should be ill-advised to take this in all earnest as a ludicrous blasphemy. It is graceful trifling. But what is Theonoe a dread goddess to whom the queen of Heaven sues for aid, or a kind-hearted woman whose strong common-sense might, perhaps, in a circle like that of the dolts and poseurs who fill the stage, raise her to the repute of superhuman wisdom ? She is not all playful. When the honour of her dead father is in question, she stirs the heart by her passionate solemnity : 1 v. 151. 2 w. 832, 1048, 491, 1050-2. 3 vv. 183 sqq. *vv. 1107 sqq. *w. 878 sqq. 262 GREEK TRAGEDY Aye, all that lie in death must meet their bond, And they that live ; yea, all. Beyond the grave The mind, though life be gone, is conscious yet Eternal, with th' eternal Heav'n at one. 1 This stands, together with Hecuba's outburst 2 in the Trojan Women, as the most explicit statement of personal religion in the extant plays of Euripides. In the midst of this farrago of fairy-tale and false sentiment, it is doubly startling. The drama is neither tragedy, nor melodrama, nor comedy, nor farce. What are we to think of it ? Dr. Verrall 3 would regard it as a burlesque, that is, as a playful imitation of serious work, with ex- aggeration of weak features or tendencies. From the facts that one ode 4 has nothing whatever to do with the plot, but with the Mother and the Maid, and that Aristophanes parodies the play in his Celebrants of tke Thesmophoria, wherein Euripides is accused of profaning that festival, it is inferred that Helen was not written for public presentation, but for private performance at a house on the island of Helene be- longing to an Athenian lady. The occasion was a gathering of women who had been celebrating the Thesmophoria, and forms Euripides' playful answer to the charge that he had never depicted a good woman. To prove his zeal, he chooses Helen (the least reputable of her sex) and completely rehabilitates her character. 5 At the same time he amuses his audience with a parody of his own work. The sanctuary of Helen recalls that of Andromache, and the escape 1 w. 1013-6 : cai yap Ttcrir TU>VO eon roir re vtprtpois K.CU TOIJ avo>6(v iracriv av6pa>irois. 6 vovs T&v fjj fv ov, vu>r}v 8' ffi aQavarov, etr ddavarov aiBip" (fnrru>v. The precision of the wording is remarkable. a Troades, 884 sqq. 3 See Four Plays of Euripides, pp. 43-133 (Euripides 1 Apology). 4 vv. 1301 sqq. 6 The idea is taken from the famous recantation of Stesichorus, which asserted that Helen never went to Troy. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 268 that of Iphigenia and her friends. The news of this tour de force spread, and at last, owing to public curiosity, it was exhibited at the Dionysia. There is no doubt (i) that the Helen is not serious either in intention or execution ; (ii) that there is good evidence for supposing a connexion between the play and the festival of the Mother and the Maid, the Thesmophoria ; (iii) that Aristophanes' jokes about Proteus- Proteas and the rest do support the view that Euripides has in his mind the history of a family who have nothing to do with Menelaus and Helen ; (iv) that in the play there are points, such as " Eido " (the baby-name of Theonoe), which are irrelevant to the story. Are we, then, to accept Verrall's account ? The sound view would appear to be that Euripides offered to the Archon a work which for once was a burlesque. So sincere a thinker as Euripides was certain sooner or later to attack himself, at any rate to examine his position and methods with humorous detachment. So far we may, we must, go with Verrall ; the elaborate and delightfully detailed development we can hardly accept the evidence is not sufficiently strong. But the poet is making fun not only of himself. The false Helen and her disappearance at a crisis in the action, are not merely miracles of a type in which he utterly disbelieves ; they are features which even a believer would remove as far as possible into the background. In handling this fairy-tale with such naivete", he is possibly laughing at some indiscreet fellow-dramatist ; 1 certainly he is ridiculing the popular belief in such legends. Helen herself cannot credit the tale of Leda and the Swan. 2 When given the choice between two accounts of her brothers' fate, she prefers the non-miraculous version. 3 Even the dramatist's own dislike of soothsayers is elaborately 1 In the inflated affectation of such things as vv. 355-6 and 629 parody of some contemporary lyrist is quite possible. 2 w. 20-1, 256-9 (rejected by Murray, after Badham). 3 vv. 138 sqq.j 205 sqq., 284-5. 264 GREEK TRAGEDY expounded by the Greek messenger and sympathetically echoed by the chorus, 1 absurdly enough in a play which contains Theonoe, whom the chorus themselves have induced Helen to consult, and with success ; although of course Theonoe knows only what could be learned by listening to the talk of Menelaus. The PucENLSSjE 2 ( Trdrpas KXfivtjs irdXtTai, Xeuo'errr', OtStVour SSt, or TO. K\fiv' alviyiiar' ryvo> ical fj,fyi(rros yv dvfjp, unmistakably recalls part of the finale in CEdipus Tyran- nus: 6 a> irdrpas Qqfirjs fvoucoi, \( vcrorr', Ol&iirovs ode, 6f ra cAeiV alviyfuer' 178*1 >cat Kpdricrros T)V dvffp. If we accept the customary date of Sophocles' play (405 B.C.), it was produced after Euripides' death. Further, the whole scene of CEdipus, Antigone, and Creon has evidently been expanded and distorted. According to one version, that followed by Sophocles in the Antigone, the maiden remained in Thebes after the battle and buried Polynices ; according to the 1 Mr. J. U. Powell, whose edition should be consulted. 2 vv. 1233 sq. : vftfts 8' dyS>v' dfpfvrfs, '.\py(1oi, \66va vio"ffii)f aSoXe'a-^ou p.(vai (v. 568), is even worse. J v. 551. s v. 634. 4 v. 397. 8 w. 640 sq. 8 w. 658-61. 7 w. 932 sqq. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 273 battlement to the grief- maddened Menelaus and begins by a lunatic reminiscence of the " Socratic method": " will you be the questioner or the respondent ? " Prig as he is, Orestes has nevertheless some elements of nobility at the first. He can tell his uncle plainly that his disease is " conscience, which convicts me for a criminal " ; 2 he shows real regard for Electra ; the splendidly selfless friendship between him and Pylades stirs every one. As the play advances, however, we are lost in the loathing and breathless wonder wherewith we gaze upon the increasing insanity of the wretched prince. 3 Each moment he becomes more vigorous and more lost to sense of right ; when Electra suggests the vilest part of the plot the seizure of Hermione he breaks forth into a cry like Macbeth's : " Bring forth men-children only ! " * Electra has been the chief definite cause of Orestes' fall. Amazingly vivid, she fills the whole drama with a thin acrid fume of malice. Her ruling passion is not mere hatred against Clytsemnestra. That bitterness has spread until (saving her tenderness for Orestes) there is nothing in her but a narrow viperishness. When an innocent like Hermione draws near, the fang strikes by instinct. Her intensity of feeling and her years have made her Orestes' monitor long before he returned home, and it is she to whom Tyndareus points, in searing language, as the more guilty. 5 Another influence has soured her, that lack of husband and children on which Helen, with the brutality so frequent in shallow natures, insists at their first meeting. 6 But Electra has vastly more common-sense than her brother 1 V. 1576 : iroTtpov fptarav f] K\vfiv fftov 6(\fis ; 2 v. 396. 3 His " progression, upward in strength and downward in reason, is visible throughout," says Dr. Verrall (Four Plays, p. 245), whose eloquent and vivid essay on this drama should be carefully studied. 4 w. 1204 sqq. : & ras (pptvas p.ev apo sqg. 8 At v. 1539 (very late in the day) they discuss whether it is their duty to inform the State of the murderous plot against Helen and Hermione. Even then they decide to do nothing. 7 vv. 1 547 sqq. 8 Note vv. 743, 745, 747, 749, and the excitement in the last two verses. 9 vv. 48 1 sqq. THE WORKS OF EURIPIDES 275 quite comfortable after the death of Agamemnon ; l Helen, that faded, facile creature, who cannot abstain from conversation, even with murderesses if there is no one else. Hermione, minute as is her part, commands our affection, not only because of the vile complot which centres round her, but for the shy graciousness of the little she does say, TJKM \aj3ovcra irpevn.evet.av 2 and the rest ; she seems to have strayed from some sunlit lost drama by Sophocles. The religious sanction which for Sophocles had been the background of Orestes' story and which for ^Eschylus provided the most vital part of the action, has in Euripides' hands become, as it were, a small, rather shabby stage-property hung upon the back-scene. Those Avenging Spirits who hunt the matricide are now called " frenzies " 3 by his sister, and in the anxiously precise account 4 which Menelaus elicits from his nephew, it becomes plain that the three " maidens like night " are an hallucination ; any unfettered intercourse between them and ordinary men is out of the question. Traditional belief itself tells rather against their divinity than for it. 5 Another stage property is the incidental miracle. Menelaus at Malea was addressed by the " prophet of Nereus, Glaucus, truthful god," who told him of his brother's death. 6 When we learn that at Nauplia he heard of Clytaemnestra's death but from "some mariner," 7 we surmise that " Glaucus" too was human. 8 The second miracle is that related 9 by the Phrygian slave ; Helen vanished, " either by spells or the tricks of wizards or !w. 371 sqq. a v. 1323. 3 vv. 37 sqq. 4 vv. 395^^. 9 Contrast v. 420 : /zeXXet TO Qtiov 8' e'ori TOIOVTOV v (TojfjidTajv is a quite correct ending, but not TOVTOiV Subjoined is a scheme of the iambic verse as written by the tragedians. The writers of comedy allowed themselves licenses with which we are not here con- cerned. Euripides is much fonder of resolved feet than yEschylus or Sophocles. I 2 t 4 5 6 -> - _ - ^ _ 1 - - ^ _ -J^_ P3 [wv ,_ U-3 S III. THE TROCHAIC TETRAMETER Under this head we shall deal only with trochees as used in dialogue. Originally all dialogue was written in this metre, 1 and they sometimes appear in extant plays when the situation is too hurried or excited for iambics though not agitated enough for lyrical dia- logue. These passages are not usually long, and it is interesting to note that the longest are found in the two most melodramatic plays, Orestes and Iphi- geneia at Aulis? The metre is always the trochaic tetrameter catalectic 3 (sometimes called the trochaic 1 Iambics were adopted because nearer to the rhythm of everyday speech. It has been held, for instance by Dr. J. H. H. Schmidt, that iambics are nothing but trochaics with " anacrusis " (for this term see below, p. 342). So near is the iambic metre to ordinary talk that one now and again finds accidental " lines " in prose. Thus Demosthenes (Olynth.^ I, 5) writes 8rj\ov yap ta~rt rots 'O\vvdiois ori. . . . George Eliot, early in Middlemarch, actually produces two consecutive " lines " : " Obliged to get my coals by stratagem, and pray to heaven for my salad-oil". 2 Euripides is much fonder of this metre than the other two masters. Sophocles in particular is very sparing of it. That passage (Phzloctetes, 1222 sqq.), where Odysseus and Neoptolemus hurry upon the scene in violent (iambic) altercation, would infallibly have been put into trochaics by Euripides. 3 From (caroAT/yw, " to stop short ". METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 335 octonarius), that is, a line consisting of eight feet, mostly trochees, with " catalexis ". Catalexis occurs when the last foot of a line has not its full number of syllables, the remainder being filled by a pause in delivery. Pure trochaic verses are occasionally to be found : nara ira>s a(fiKOfj,f(ra fvpo ravr I 2345 6 78 The mark * means that there is a pause equivalent in length to a short syllable. It is often found in the scansion of lyrics, and there one also at times uses ^ IK- y , which mean pauses equivalent to two, three, and four short syllables respectively. As in iambics, the last syllable may be short by nature : (Ta>(ppov\eii> y (ir\fpfyt | dfvpo r | r) Ai|oy 8a/i|ap A (fferdclfS^ 857)- This metre is plainly analogous to Tennyson's Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall. But such purely trochaic lines are rare. Other feet are usually admitted, especially the spondee : j3Xet|fOv I fts TjfJi\as iv \ ap^as \ Tv Tairr|as Xa/3|a> A (Iph. Atf/. t 320)- Spondees may occur only in the second, fourth, or sixth foot. The tribrach also is often employed by Euripides : ap.(p rjfj.\o)i> 7roX|iTar | cm 6r6\(u XP f \ s A (Jph. Taur. t 1232). The fifth foot is the favourite place for the tribrach, and next to that the first : aXX o/i|a>s raxlicrra | KCIKOS f<^|jupa^|?7 0iX|oir A (Orestes, 740). Euripides, late in his career, introduced a good deal of license, here as elsewhere. Firstly, tribrachs become far more frequent and occur in unusual places : \* v^> <_> ~ w ~ **> ~ ~ \j \j i*t ~ ^ - > \^>v^ v^o~ avocri\os TTf\vKas | aXX ou | irarpidos \ a>s a~v \ 7ro\ffu\os^ (PhcentSSCS, 609). 336 GREEK TRAGEDY To place a resolved foot practically at the end of the line is bold the metre is shaken almost to pieces. Here, as in other respects, Euripides points forward to the conversational manner of the New Comedy. But he goes further, and allows feet hitherto not found in trochaics : the anapaest and the dactyl. The latter, however, is extremely rare 1 and employed only with proper names : w - <- \j <*> <*> j - ~ \j crvyyov\ov r tp\r]v IIuXa8|?;v re | rov ra8|e vv8p\pfv\os^ (Iflh. Alll., 882). The anapaest is commoner (there is a proper-name instance in the line just quoted) : V^VJ\M"~~V-> ~ \J\J\J~\J~\J~ a>r vtv I iKeret8 exl el A (Orestes, 797)- adffj.iT\av ffoi I p.T)Tpos I ovopaQfiv K(ip\a^ (P/tO?n., 6 1 2). There is no rule as to caesura. The end of the fourth foot regularly coincides with the end of a word ; such an arrangement is named diaeresis. 2 In all extant tragedy only one certain exception to this rule is found : et 8oc|et (rr(ix\<>>p*v \ <> yfvv\aiov | (ipr)K\a>s e7r|or A (Philoctetes, 1402). Since diaeresis is practically always found in so many hundreds of lines, being preserved even in the loosest writing of Euripides, why should we regard the re- cognized trochaic verse as an unity ? Why not write, e.g. : ov yap av t-vp.f3aifji(v oXAco; 17 Vi rols uparoiivra tf AVOKT' (ivai \6ov6s (Phoenisscc, 590 sq.\ If the line falls into two clearly marked halves, why not show this to the eye? There is no unanswerable objection to doing so the passage above corresponds exactly in rhythmical form to much English verse, e.g. . 1 The two instances given are, in fact, all that I have found. r, " division ". METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 837 Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. The practice in English is to break up the long trochaic "line" into two when the words at the diaeresis rhyme (as in the above passage from Longfellow), but not to do so when the only rhymes occur at the catalectic foot. We print the opening of another poem by Longfellow thus : In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown ; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town. In Greek there is, of course, no rhyme-scheme to settle this, but the regular catalexis is felt to mark off separate units. The entire question depends upon personal fancy, 1 though the instance from the Phttoctetes shows that Sophocles at any rate regarded the whole octonarius as the unit. Subjoined is the scheme : I 2 3 4 5 6 7 [~H] C-^v-0 WWW WWW IV. THE ANAP^STIC METRE Whereas iambics and trochaics were declaimed by the actors, anapaests were used mostly by the chorus, and were chanted in recitative. They are found when the chorus move into the orchestra, or salute the entrance of a new character. Most tragedies end with a brief anapaestic system, executed by the singers as they depart. The most usual line is a tetrapody that is, a verse of four feet : -- TI (ru irpos I p.f\a0pois | rt T\i T(^VT) I vvv 8 cm \ 1778 au (Ibid., 34). No other foot is admitted, but each of these three may occur at any place in the line. Besides the tetrapody, we find now and then a dipody, or verse of two feet. Anapaestic systems are invariably closed by a cata- lectic verse : avrr) | irpo6aveiv | IlfXiou | irais^ (Ibid. t 37). In systems of considerable length such lines occur at intervals. They are called " paroemiacs V V. LYRICS The metres of Greek songs form a difficult and complicated study. So long as we do not know the music composed for them, the scansion of lyrics must remain a more difficult and doubtful question than that of the iambics, episodic trochaics, and anapaests. The best preparation for their study is the habit of reading iambics and trochaics with correct quantities and natural emphasis. Let us, so prepared, address ourselves to the following passage 2 from the Agamemnon (975 W): TtTTTt /XOl Totf tp.1T(&OV bfifjia irpofrrarfipiov irorarai ; oToy ap,icr6ov u ov8* diroirrvcrai Siicav ovetparwv 6dp(ros fiircidfs iffi (ppevos ~ ~ K - - \J - Bapvos | fvnnQ\fs if . . . If we work backwards from the end, -05 <$>i\ov 6povov gives the familiar trochaic -octonarius ending, - ^ | - ^ | - A . 340 GREEK TRAGEDY But the middle of the line has fallen to pieces, and for the present we leave it. The eighth line seems at first more familiar. Is it not the ordinary iambic senarius of 1 1 ? But where is the caesura? And can we suddenly insert an iambic line into a trochaic system ? Is it then possible after all to scan it asjjome kind of trochaics ? Begin at the end. . . . fiy8oXats A suits excellently ; and if we work back- wards we soon find that the whole would fall readily into trochaics if only we could ignore the first syllable : 8( I TOI irpofi.v\T)O"i\a>v u But why should we ignore it ? And why does the line begin farther to the left ? The ninth line again offers perplexity in the first half, clearness in the second : \s \j \j\j- T)K(v | (vQ vtr I lAi|ov A . Grown by this time bolder, we attack the first half in detail, working backwards, as fie is easy. Then e OKT . . . may be either -^ or --, both of which are admissible. We are left with i/fa/A/uas. Reading the whole line over slowly, marking the trochees carefully, we find 'ourselves somehow dwelling on the last syllable of i//a/x/Aia?. Why should we? If that syllable were only - w, all would be well ; but it is not. Finally, the tenth and last line is quite easy : - \j u u u~ ar|or A . The whole passage then is trochaic ; but we have met four difficulties : (i) the necessity to dwell upon certain syllables, (ii) the irrational presence of dactyls, (iii) the temptation to ignore the first syllable of xpoVos, (iv) the insetting of Odpcros. Understanding of these four facts will carry us a long way. We take them in order. Our first point indicates that we must revise that division of all syllables into "longs" of equal value and " shorts " of equal value (each " long " being exactly equivalent to two " shorts ") which obtains in iambics. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 341 The lyric metres recognize syllables of greater length than w ^. Most frequent is the length L, equal to ^ ^ v^. A syllable of this length is therefore admitted in lyric trochaic systems as a whole foot, and investigations, such as we have practised above, will generally show where such a foot is to be postulated. We can now scan certain portions which we found troublesome : - \J I- - w L Gapcros | evir \ tiQts \ t Moreover, as we were suspicious of the final spondee (replacing the expected trochee) in the third line, we obtain at any rate a quasi-trochee by scanning thus : \j-\j-\j- \_/ L u>i>. Analogously to L as a trochee, dactyls admit Ll (=<--_ -.)asa foot. - jw U U L^-- -^wU Qjja-fa | KOI | ras | Stvv ov\fipar\o>v A || I2 34 If we examine this to find structural unity, it soon appears. The first pair of lines answers to the last, and line three to line four, in the number of their feet 14 + 4, 6, 6, 4 + 4. The correspondence is indicated thus : 4 Each of these masses, it will be noticed, is marked off by the sign ||. Such a mass is named a "sentence" or " colon " (KO)\OV, "limb "), and such a balanced structure of cola is named a "period" (ireptoSos, "circuit"). It happens that in the passage just examined the " sentence " division always occurs at the end of a word, but this is not invariably so. We proceed now with the second paragraph 1 the second period as we shall now call it. \^ L. v> l_ w~ \>j ~ w~ Saptros | (Vir\fi6(s | t||ei ptv\os \j - \j atpro | vav@aT\as , and the foot rot 7rpvp.v- may be called an "accelerated spondee". Sylla- bles which carry a musical length different from their metrical length are named "irrational", 34-4 GREEK TRAGEDY That is : 4 + 4, 6, 4 + 4, 4. This would be an obviously well-balanced structure but for the last colon, to which nothing corresponds. Such an extra sentence is called a " postlude " (eVo>8iKoi>). Non-corresponding sentences like this are far from rare. 1 They may occur at the beginning of the period ("prelude," Trpoco&LKov), in the middle ("mesode," /u,ecra>Si/cdz>), or at the end. This very period supplies an example of a mesode as well as of a postlude. The scheme is : The whole passage, then, consists of two periods connected by meaning and grammar, but for us by no more intimate musical bond than the common use of trochees. But the dance and music which accom- panied the whole would clearly demonstrate its unity. The end of a period is indicated by ]]. It is necessary now to consider briefly the passage which immediately follows (vv. 988 sgq.) : jr o/iuara>p VOOTOV, avTOfiaprvs aiv \vpas op.a>s v^ 'Epivvos avro8i8a.KTOS (6tv oi TO irav f^o>v f\7ri8os pfv, ov8e Xe^rrat irplv &v os 8' (TTfir' e(pv rpiaKTTJpos oT^rrat Zfjva 8f TIS rrpo(pp6va>s ei Tfv(rai (pp(vv || vvv oTO/xartoi/ iroracr6\\(i> 1 Though my obligations to Dr. ]. H. H. Schmidt's volumes, especi- ally Die Eurhythmie in den Chorgesiingen der Griechen, are very great, I cannot see in his verse-pause according to him (Eurhythmie, p. 89) the foundation of his system anything but a delusion. Dr. Schmidt's own appendices show a good minority of " verses " which end with no pause. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 347 though the first colon ends at the end of vTroo-fdaip, because the corresponding passage of the antistrophe runs ~w <^ \j L. \j KOI yepapot, where the first colon ends inside a word. It is purely a matter of taste whether we give a line to each colon, in which case the drawback is the breaking of words, or continue our line till breaking of words is excluded, the trouble about which method is the reader's difficulty in seeing where some of the cola begin. We must now consider the most vital and difficult portion of our subject. How are we to determine the cola ? The colon is the very soul of the rhythm. The period is generally too long for the ear to receive it as one artistic impression. The foot is too short ; more- over, the mere foot too often tends to play one false : irrational syllables and TOVTJ are against us. But the colon is neither too long nor too short. The colon-divi- sion serves the same purpose as non-commissioned officers in a regiment, or the determination of water- sheds in geography it gives a sense both of grouping and of control. What precisely is a colon? It is as much of a strophe as can be uttered without making a new start. It is the embodiment of rhythm, as the foot is the em- bodiment of metre. In other words, it is a series of feet bound into a rhythmical unity by the presence of one main ictus. Three questions, then, arise, (i) What is an ictus? (ii) Which is the main ictus of a series? (iii) Can we with certainty determine the beginning and end of a colon when we have identified the main ictus? (i) Ictus is stress-accent. The ictus of any single word is usually obvious. In the word "maritime" it falls upon the first syllable, in " dragoon " upon the second, in "cultivation" upon the third. In TTOLVTUV, Xucra/AeVoi?, and /caraTratrro?, it falls upon the first, second, and third respectively. Greek metre is based 348 GREEK TRAGEDY upon quantity, but Greek rhythm (like all other rhythm) is based upon ictus. A strophe can, and must, be scanned foot by foot on quantity alone ; but when we go beyond the foot-division to exhibit the structure of the whole, we must refer to ictus and nothing but ictus for struc- ture is an affair of cola, and the colon is created by the main ictus. (ii) Among the many word-ictuses of a considerable passage, a few will be found which are heavier than the rest. These are simply the ictuses of the most impor- tant words. Each of these prominent ictuses gathers the neighbouring minor ictuses into a group round itself. We should begin then by fixing some obvious example, one (that is) where the main ictus is unmistakable, and on this basis attempt, by the help of the correspondences which we expect, to determine other main ictuses. The strophe will thus gradually fall into cola. This leads us at once to our third question. (iii) Can we with certainty determine the extent of each colon ? Unfortunately no simple invariable rule can be given for the settlement of this vital point. But certain useful principles may be mentioned. (a) A well-trained ear is the chief guide. Intelligent and careful reading aloud of an English prose-passage will show this. Take first (the best-known version of) a famous sentence of John Bright : The Angel of Death is abroad in the land : you may almost hear the beating of his wings. It is plain that this falls into two rhythmical parts, though we shall not expect them to correspond, since this is prose, not verse. If we set a dash for each syllable and mark the ictuses by one or more dots according to their strength, we find this scheme : (It will be noticed that in this superb passage the two periods do, as it happens, correspond in length.) METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 349 Who hath believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? (Isaiah liii. i). So with longer passages, where, however, we shall find at times that our voice quite naturally makes a colon- ending in the midst of a grammatical sentence. Therefore let us also, || seeing we are compassed about || with so great a cloud of witnesses, || lay aside every weight, || and the sin which doth so easily beset us, || and let us run with patience || the race that is set before us || (Hebrews xii. i, R.V.). (Observe how, in the last two cola, first the mounting and then the declining emphasis provide a splendid close.) Let us now attempt so to catch the rhythm of a passage from Sophocles (Antigone^ 582 sqq?) if set out as prose. oiori KaxSiv ayevaros alutv. ois yap av (Tficrdrj 6to6(v douos, urns oiidfv cXXciVct, ytvfds cirl ir\rjdos eprrov o/xotoi/ wore Trovriais oiS/xa ftvcrirvoois orav Qprjo-craicriv epe|3of v(pa\ov eVtSpauj; irvoais, Kv\iv8ei ^vwodtv Kf\aivav diva, KOI Svtrdve/ioi ordi/a) /Spe/xovtriv dvTiir\jjyS aurai. dpvala ra Aa{38aKi8av otitcav opapai TrrjfjLaTa tydiT&v erri Trij/iacrt TTI'TTTOIT', ovS' aflraX- Xacrcrei yeveav ytvos, dXX' fpfinti 0e>v TIS, ovS' e^et \vv rStv dpq KOVIS, Xoyov T' avoia K.al (ppevSiv 'Eptvvy. If we first mark the quantities (ignoring, as we must at first, the possibility of L and u ) and go over the whole carefully, we soon find that it falls into two corres- ponding portions : evSat/xove? . . . d/crat is the strophe, ap^ala . . . 'Eyowus the antistrophe. Next we look for rhythmical units. On the one hand, there is the great difficulty that, since we must have both periodic and strophic equivalence, certain cola may take in words not belonging to the same sense-groups or grammatical 350 GREEK TRAGEDY clauses. On the other hand, the fact that we have two great masses which correspond exactly will help us. First, then, we note that evScu/ioves . . . ala>v looks pro- mising, and observing that this points to ap\ala . . . 6pcu/x,ai as a colon also, and that this is in itself likely, we mark off both these groups. Conversely, at the end of the antistrophe, Xoyov . . . J Ep(,vv9 attracts us, and this is supported by the naturalness of crrovat . . . aural at the end of the strophe. Working backwards, and seeing a pause in the punctuation at precisely the same place in both halves, namely, after TTVOOIS and $0/1019, we assume that KvXti/Set . . . SvSei . . . KeXawdv, diva . . . SvcroVe/iot, Kar' av . . . TO>I>, veprepuv . . . KOVIS, are all separate cola. Going backwards again, we find that eVtSpa/iTj 1 nvoals and OtStTrov $0/1019, va\ov . . . irvoals and (iao9 . . . 00/1019, 0piio~o~ato'ti> . . . irvoals and pi^as . . . 80/1019, and indeed longer masses still, all give a metrical correspondence. W'hich pair are we to select ? . . . TTvoals ( = vvv . . . 80/1019) is too long ; 7r^oat9 ( = OtStTrov Soaots) is too short. For we seek \ I / the longest unit which is convenient. We therefore mark off otS/ia . . . orav, vvv . . . vnep, Bp^o-o-atcrt^ . . . 7r^oat9, pta9 . . . So/xot? as cola. The same method will give us o/iotov . . . 7roi>Ttat9 and 0a>v . . . Xvo-tv. Then we find ourselves left with oT9 yap . . . epnov and Tnf/iara . . . epetVet, which we divide after oVa9 and Triirrovr. At last we can set out the passage according to its structure. The strophe runs thus : tv :&aifj.ovfs | oicrt Ka.K\a>v a\y(vv A \\ ois yap | av cf(ivd\T) 6to\6(v 8op.os tpirov 1 The first two syllables (^ w) correspond to the first (-) of METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 851 0-fUH.OV | OHTTf | JTOI>Tl|atsJ| otS/ia | 8vcrirvo\ois or|ai' A || .v K(\\aivav \\ - <^< - 6iva KCU S There are two periods : To this the antistrophe of course corresponds, though here and there an irrational long corresponds to a short (e.g. -eiTrei to cpnov) ; the last syllable of Tn^-tara is lengthened by the following 0. It should be noted that this scheme differs somewhat from that given in Jebb's edition of the Antigone (pp. Ixi. sq.\ One reader's ear differs from that of another : hence the frequent divergencies to be observed between editors in the arrangement of many lyrics. (b] The ancient writer Aristoxenus gives certain rules as to the maximum length of cola. They may be stated as follows : (i) There are three types of colon, the equal, the un- equal, and the quinquepartite. The equal cola are the dipody of i -f i feet, the tetrapody of 2 4- 2 ; the unequal are the tripody of 2 + i, and the hexapody of 4 + 2 ; the quinquepartite is the pentapody of 3 + 2. (ii) Equal cola must not be of greater length than sixteen " shorts ". Therefore we may have a dipody of 352 GREEK TRAGEDY any foot, and a tetrapody of any save those of more than four shorts in value; that is (e.g.} a dipody of cretics (- ^ ~) is allowed, but not a tetrapody of that foot, which would give 5 x 4 = 20 "shorts". (iii) Unequal cola may have the length of eighteen "shorts". A tripody, therefore, of any foot is allowed, but a hexapody of trochees only : a hexapody of spondees would give 4 x 6 = 24 "shorts". (iv) Quinquepartite cola may extend to the value of twenty-five "shorts". Pentapodies are therefore pos- sible of trochees, dactyls, spondees and five-time feet. (c) Certain detailed hints may be added : (i) The tetrapody is the most frequent length, the pentapody the rarest (ii) The end of a colon is often indicated in dactyls by a spondee, in trochees by a single long syllable (whether L or - A). (iii) In any one period there is a tendency to conform- ity in length. If 6 + 5 + 4 and 6 + 6 + 4 are p^inia facie equally possible, the latter is as a rule to be pre- ferred. In spite of the difference in sum-total (6 + 6 + 4 = 16; 6 + 5 + 4=15), this question often arises, because of the possibility of TOVTJ. It has to be decided 1 whether (e.g.) TTCU/TOS at the close of a colon is to be scanned as L. - >_/ two feet or one : TTCU/TOS 1.1 or I Trairo? Al| It is now time to offer an account of the various feet used in lyrics. (a) Trochees. With these we are now familiar. This foot is often called a choree, chorees with anacrusis J How? By examination of the whole period. If we look at the seventh line of the strophe from Antigone, scanned above, it may seem _ > L _ arbitrary to write | mvav \\ rather than | aiv\av A ||. But the former method is suggested by the corresponding fourth line, which cannot possibly be scanned otherwise than as above, and which therefore has four feet ; hence we scan -aivav so as to give the seventh line also four, not five, feet altogether. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 353 being iambi, 1 without anacrusis trochees. The trochee is the most frequent foot in lyrics. Such systems express ordinary strong interest. Whenever more definite emotion is to be conveyed, either cyclic dactyls are introduced, or a change is made to some other metre: KoXvi'Sos 1 re yas irapBtvoi, pa^as arpfirroi (Prom. VinctUS, 415). So in English : Then, upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow. (Longfellow.) Resolution into tribrachs is frequent : \j\j \j > \j <*> Apa/3t|as T ap\(iov \ avdos \\ (Prom. Vinctus, 420). Anacrusis is common. (&) Dactyls. These are found pure, or mingled with spondees or quasi-trochees (L J). They are often em- ployed to express excitement and awe : & Aiof 6.8vf7res (/Km, Tts iroTf ras iro\vxpv(rov Hvd&vos dyXdas (pas ; (CEd. Tyr., 151). Anacrusis is found, as in the second line above and in Medea, 635 : i de p.e\p\\r]p.a \ KaXXtcrTloi/ 6e\a>v ^ ||. The tetrapody without spondees or catalexis gives an exquisite heaving effect in Soph. Electra, 147-9: 1 It is therefore possible to scan the ordinary iambics of dialogue as trochees : > - \j > \j > -<- tid-a>(j>t\ | Apyovs \ pj 8t|a7rra(7^|at tTKa^lo^ (Afedea t I). This is the method followed by Dr. J. H. H. Schmidt, and of course changes altogether the rules given above ( II), but will hardly perplex the student. It has the advantage of bringing "iambic" dialogue closer to lyric and to episodic trochees, but it has seemed more convenient to keep the traditional statement 2 Printed as one line, though containing a colon which ends with the end of a word, because the corresponding line of the antistrophe contains a colon which does not : n-pwTa (re KenXopevos, 6vyar\\fp Aids, apftpor' 'Addva, . . . 23 354 GREEK TRAGEDY aXX' (fjif y" & (TTov6fcrcr t apapev (frpevas, liauiv, fvatcov, evaitov t*r)s, Z> A.arovs irat, is scanned by Dr. J. H. H. Schmidt as molossi, a molossus being --- . Spondaic systems are scarcely to be found in English. 1 (d] Cretics. This foot (-^-) is rare; it generally expresses piteous agitation : (ppovTicrov, KOI yevov irav8iKvyd8a rav (Kadfv (Kf3o\ais 8va-0tois oppevav (^Esch., Supplices, 418 sqq.). 1 Because spondaic words are lacking. It is sometimes said that the only spondee in English is " amen ". The peculiar pronunciation of this word is due to the fact that it is so often sung to music where each syllable is given a whole bar. The name of Seaford in Sussex is undoubtedly pro- nounced by its inhabitants -- ; but one may perhaps therefore argue that it should be written " Sea Ford ". METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 355 Few cretics are found in English, though Tennyson's brief poem The Oak is written entirely in this metre, e.g. : All his leaves Fall'n at length, Look, he stands, Trunk and bough, Naked strength. Most English verse of cretic appearance is shown by the context to be trochaic with alternate 7-01/77. So in A Mid- summer Nights Dream, II. i. : Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, which is followed by I do | wander | every | where A | Swifter | than the | moones | sphere A | etc. We are forbidden to view the Greek cretics given above in the same way, by the resolved feet. If we scan p6vTL(rov Kal yevov TravStKws as -<-| L |-^| L |-^|-,Jl, this method will give us in the fourth line - I w I - I - ||, where the second foot is impossible. can take the place of -, but never of L. (e) Bacchiacs. This curious foot consists of --^, the system being invariably introduced by anacrusis. Bac- chiacs are regularly associated with dochmiacs(see below). They express strong emotion, generally mingled with perplexity or vacillation ; resolved feet are therefore often found : rs o.\a>^ rs p. irpocreirra p dfayyrjs ; (Prom. Vincfus, 1 1 5). cira6ov S Swo-oiora (Eumenides, 788 sq.}. v-> :*-- ~ <- 356 GREEK TRAGEDY Ye storm-winds of Autumn ! Who rush by, who shake The window, and ruffle The gleam-lighted lake. (M. Arnold.) But it should be noted that, though bacchiac scansion seems soundest for the above -"storm- winds" for instance has two ictuses the poet probably meant the lines for dactylic dipodies with anacrusis : "storm-winds of" thus would be an accentual dactyl. But that would slur " winds " unduly. (/) Ionics. These are formed by -w<^. When anacrusis is found the usual form the foot is often called lonicus a minore (i.e. ^ <---) ; otherwise it is called lonicus a maiore : Kvavovv 8' opfiaai Xewtrtrcov (poviov 8epyfj.a ftpdicovTos * JroXuj/avras ~S.vpi.Qv 8 1 ap^a SIUKCOV (Persce, 8 1 sq.\ A strange variant is - ^ - ^ ; the variation is called " ana- clasis" ("breaking-up"). Thus the above passage proceeds (Tray ft 8ovpiK\vrois dv8pd(Ti TO^68ap.vov"Aprj. _>vj| --> I v^\j||~v^~v^ I ~ * ||- Ionics are employed to express strong excitement governed by confident courage. The first lyric of the Persa begins with a splendid example. It is sung by the Persian counsellors in expectation of Xerxes' triumph, and makes a strong contrast with the piteous rhythms of the close. This poem should be studied carefully in comparison with another in the same metre the opening of the first chorus in the Baccha (vv. 64 sqq. ) : 'Acrias drr& yaias Bpofiia) rrovav T)8in> Kaparov T evxdpaTov, BaK^ioc evaop,fva. TIS 68<5 ; TIS 68q> ; TIS pf\d8pois ; (K.TOITOS eorco, crro/ia T' fvtprjfiov fliras fo(riovcrda> TCI vofutrffevTa yap dd ^lovvcrov vf. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 357 v, LJ \s <*t J M U w u> |--^D - LJ w \J ~*MH--Wwt T|| ^ w w --^||-^->| UxB I 2 3 mesode. 2 II (I III f \2 3 mesode. I 2 \2 This song of the Bacchantes, like that of the Persians, expresses both excitement and confidence ; both are magnificent, and the metre is the same. But the differ- ence is unmistakable ; it lies in the rhythm. In JEs- chylus the practically unvaried rhythm and the gorgeous language give to such a passage as TroXv^et/a /cat TTO\V- vavras ^vpiov ff ap^a oia>/can> an almost intolerable weight and austere pomp. Euripides, by use of the doubly-lengthened syllable, by varying the extent of his cola, and by the irrationality of the penultimate foot, has, within the limits of the same metre, produced a sense of exotic beauty and urgency, a thrill of wildness as well as of awe. (g) Choriambics. These consist of -^^-. Ana- crusis is not found : Setva fjitv ovv, Sftva rapacrcm croKotW OVT' diro(f)d ' dirop> ((Ed. Tyr., 483 sq.). This measure expresses great agitation and perplexity. In the passage just cited they pass into ionics, which indicate a gradual comparative calming of mind. For example, the antistrophe reads : 358 GREEK TRAGEDY dAX' 6 ftev ovv Ztvs 5 r' 'ArroXXoH/ avvfroi KOI TO. fiparwv (iSarfS dv8p>v 8' on p.dvns rrXe'ov r) 'yo> Kplais OVK eaTiv d\rjdf]s crotpia 8* SLV (rov e'/xoi rep/jiiav iiya>v Aptpav {Antigone^ I3 2 9 $?) vS wl-wfl w|- A ||. But this simplest form is not the most frequent, and a considerable sequence is rare. Resolution of one or more long syllables is very common. The favourite form is w^^-^i-JI : yap ol irrfpo(p6pov M/JMS (Agamemnon, 1 147). This metre is frequent in passages of lamentation, and as these are extremely numerous the dochmiac measure is one of the most important. It is also perhaps the most difficult, because of the many varieties admitted. In all, twenty-two 2 forms are said to be found, though 1 This important sequence may be conveniently memorized if we substitute accent for quantity by the sentence " Attack Rome at once''. 3 I take this figure from Schmidt's Introduction (English Translation, p. 76). METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 359 several of these are rare ; this great number is due to resolution and irrational long syllables. Thus tO) (TKOTOV vf(pos fpbv dirarponov, (nnr\6fifvov afparov dddfiorov T( v t 'E7ra0ou Kvprja-ats (^Esch., Supplices, 582 sqq.). (iv) Any of the three periods just described, the stichic, the palinodic, the antithetic (whether simple or palinodic-antithetic) may be " mesodic," that is, it may be grouped round a central colon (the mesode), to which no colon corresponds, save of course the mesode of the other strophe. The schemes, then, are : (a) Stichic- mesodic. (b) Palinodic- mesodic. ) Antithetic- mesodic. (d) Palinodic- antithetic-mesodic. (a) The stichic-mesodic v {Hecuba^ 629 362 GREEK TRAGEDY (c) The antithetic-mesodic : tn> TOI (rv rot caTj|/ei)o-ar, 2> fiapvirorfK, KOVK aXXodfv e ra iro p. ereye rrapbv (^poi/TJcrGU . . . (Philoctetes, 1095 (d] The palinodic-antithetic-mesodic : py pai fi.i fji6vos fiovG) Koutfe rropdfJLidos crud^tos. pfv ai/Xtf rj8f, ^atperw 8( A.ITVOIOS (VIK T\ap.ov Sorts 8o>fidT. 2 1 have taken Schmidt's readings and arrangement for the sake of an example. Murray's arrangement is quite different. METRE AND RHYTHM IN GREEK TRAGEDY 363 but our ear often cannot appreciate the balance and con- tour of the whole as it can in English lyrics, where we have the immense assistance of a rhyme-scheme. But it is no sound deduction that the study of Greek lyric metre and rhythm is therefore useless. We cannot always hear the period that is a question of music ; but we can always hear the colon that is a question of language. To utter the cola correctly is easy after a little practice; and it is these "sentences" which, by their own internal rhythmical nature and by the identities or contrasts existing between them, reinforce and more pungently articulate the sense of the words wherefrom they are moulded. INDICES I. GREEK Names of plays, etc.,, in capitals A0AA, 5. AIA2, 132-6. MA2TirO*OPO2, 132-6. AITNAIAI, 1 19. AAKH2TI2, 186-92. avafiaivw, 54 n. avdyicT), 38. t, 32, 293 n. ta, 325. ovffis, 342 n. ANAPOMAXH, 219-28. av)jp Styvxos, 311. ANTirONH, 136-41. , 181 n. frfi! 344 3 n. airb (TKTjvfjs, 57- TTJ, 129. aSflis, 83. AXAIflN 2TAAOFO2, 174. AXIAAEfl2 EPA2TAI, 174. BAKXAI, 277-85. frahXavTiov, 34 n. BA22APAI, 117. BA22APIAE2, 117- PpvTov, n8n. i' (TTj/ieiov, 163 n. s, 336 n. AIAA2KAAIAI, 62. 8paaios, 78. Kpr}wls, 68. KTKAfl'V, 289-91. KU\OV, 343. 341 n. 366 GREEK TRAGEDY MEFA APAMA, 24 and n. MEAANinnH AE2MnTI2, 305 n. H 2O*H, 305 n. fJLt(T(fSlK6v, 344. MHAEIA, 192-9. MX*rf>> 65. /j-vpurixos arparovs, 26 n. MTPMIAONE2, 118. NEANI2KOI, 117. NHPHIAE2, 118. NIOBH, 119. VO/JLOl, 72. 6yKos, 6g. OIAinOT2 EHI KOAnNfll, 167-73. TTPANNO2, 145-54. ol Iv r &TOJ, 171 and n. \6yos, 171 and n. > faults, ravrriv x6fffj.fi, 295. o-rxos, 359- . ffrpoip-fi, 344. avyKOirfi, 34! n. (TLTixcfieia, 330 n. 2TNAEinNOI, 174. 2TNEKAHMHTIK02, 23 n. a-vvlfaffis, 332. T^J (TKTJPTJJ, 54. TTpoXo < yta, 61 n. rl ravra irpbs rij' &i6vvcrov ; 2 n. rb 8e Spa/ta TWV 5 intpuv, 223 and n. rb Oerov, 30. rb 6ttapin6v, 82. TOK^, 341, 347. 352, 355, 360- rpdyos, 62 n. rpaytfSla, 62 n. TPAXINIAI, 154-60. TpjjS^, 38- TPHIAAE2, 243-6. , 28, 32. I. ., 22, 23 n. , 78- *IAOKTHTH2, 161. *OINI22AI, 264-8. (ppdtris ruv irpayfidrwy, S TrE2, 118. ipvaris, 318. XOH*OPOI, 106-10. XPI2TO2 nA2XfiN, 41. yTXO2TA2IA, 120. II. PLACES, ETC. A. = Aristophanes, SL. = ^Eschylus, E. = Euripides, S. Sh. = Shakespeare. Sophocles, ABDERA, 298. Acharnse, in Acharnians, 296. Achelous, in Trachinice, 160. 34 n - Acropolis, 14, 49, 239. in Eumenides, 113. /Egospotami, 13, 182, 324. ./Ethiopia, in Andromeda, 299. ^Etolia, in Cresphontes, 307-8. Alexandria, Library of, 39. Pleiad of, 39. - Theatrical activity in, 3rd century B.C., 39. Amphipolis, 294. Arachnaeus, Mount, in Agamemnon, 101. Arden, Forest of, 63. Areopagus, in Eumenides, 112 ff., 128 n. Argolid plain, in S.'s Electra, 63. Argos, in Agamemnon, 99 ff. Choephorce, 106. Eumenides, 112. Supplices of M., 84. E.'s Electra, 253. Heracleidce, 200 ff. Orestes, 268 ff. Supplices, 234 n., 235. Telephus, 295. 316, 321. Asia Minor, Graeco-Roman theatres in, 59 n Asopus, plain of, in Agamemnon, 124. Athens, 228-9, 244, 252 n., 307, 312, 324-5- Agathon of, 21. and drama, 3, 5. Euripides, 317 ff. Athena's temple in, 63. in Eumenides, in ff. (Ed. Coloneus, 168 ff., 185. E.'s Erechtheus, 297. Hippolytus, 205 ff., 213. Ion, 236 ff. Supplices, 234 n., 235. local cults of, in M., 128. Athens, Phrynichus of, 6. Sophocles of, 12. Athens' war with Eleusis, 119. Athos, Mt., in Agamemnon, 101. Attica, 4, 279. and Furies, 131. E.'s cenotaph in, 18. in Eumenides, 113. Heracleidce, zoo. Medea, 194. Aulis, 247, 270. in Iph. at A., 285 ff. BRADFIELD College, Gk. plays at, 55. Byzantium, 313. Homer, the tragedian of? 40. Python of ? 39. CARIA, Mausolus, k. of, 38. Catana, Python of ? 39. Chaeronea, battle of, 31. Chapel, Sistine, 102. Chios, Ion of, 21 ff. Sophocles in, 15. Chryse", in S.'s Philoctetes, 161. Cithajron, Mt., in (Ed. Tyr., 147 ff. E.'s Bacchce, 277 ff. Colchis, Mt., in E.'s Medea, 192 ff. Colonus, Fumenides at, 172. in (Ed. Coloneus, 168 ff. Sophocles' home, 172. song, 71. Congo, Upper, 248. Corinth, 22. and drama, 3. in (Ed. Tyr., 147. Medea, 192 ff., 313. Crete, in Hippolytus, 206 ff. Cynthus, 249. Cyzicus, 167. DELIUM, 234 n. Delphi, 257. in Choephorce, 108, no. 367 368 GREEK TRAGEDY Delphi, in Eumenides, in flf., 63. S.'s Electro, 142. (Ed. Tyr., 147 ff. E.'s Andromache, 220 ff. Ion, 236 ff., 314. Iph. T., 247 ff. Medea, 193. Phccnissa, 264. Dodona, in E.'s Andromache, 221. EGYPT, 184. in Prom. V., 94. Supplices of JE., 84 ff. Helena of E., 259 ff., 322. Eleusis, M. of, 10, 119. mysteries of, 10, n, 173. Eleutherae, priest of Dionysus of, 80. England and Education, 324. Eretria, Achaeus of, 21, 25. Menedemus of, 25. Eridanus, R., in Hippolytus, 208. Etna, Mt., in Cyclops, 289 f. eruption of, in Prom. V., 91. Eubcea, in Agamemnon, 101. TrachinicE, 154. FOREST OF ARDEN, in Shakespeare, 63. GELA, n. Great Britain, dramatic renaissance in, v. HADES, 86, 95, 202-3. in Critias' Pirithous, 29. E.'s Here. Fur., 228 ff. Sophocles in, 14 n. Halicarnassus, Dionysius of, 306 n. Helene, island of, 262. Hellas, 89, 248. Hull, 248. Hydaspes R., 39. ICARIA, Thespis of, 4. Ilium, 245. JHELUM R., 39. LEMNOS, in JE.'s Philoctetes, 120. E.'s Hypsipyle, 304. S.'s Philoctetes, 161 ff. Lenaeon, 49. Lesbos, in JE.'s Bassarids, 117. MACEDONIA, Archelaus, k. of, 18. E.'s death in, 15, 277. Macistus, Mt., in Agamemnon, 124. Malea, 275. Marathon, 122, 163, 325. JE. at, 10. in Heracleida, 200. Melos, sack of, 244. Venus of, 182. Messenia, in E.'s Cresphontes, 307. Miletus, capture of, 494 B.C., 7. Molottia, in Andromache, 221. Mount Arachnaeus, see Arachnaeus. Athos, see Athos. Cithaeron, see C. Etna, see E. CEta, see CE. Parnassus, see P. Mysia, in E's Telephus, 295-6. NAUPLIA, 275. Nemea, in E.'s Hypsipyle, 304. Nile, R., in E.'s Helena, 322. Nine Ways, 294. ODESSA, 248. Odeum at Athens, 56. CEnophyta, 184. CEta, Mt., in Trachinice, 155. Omphalos at Delphi, in Eumenides, in. Othrys, Mt., in Alcestis, 188. Oxyrhynchus, 18, 304. PARNASSUS, Mt., in Ion, 237. Parthenon, 14, 182. Peiraeus, 49, 245. Peloponnese, 6, 304. Persia, in Persce, 123-4. Phaselis, Theodectes of, 36. Pherae, Alexander of, 35. in Alcestis, 186. Phlius, Pratinas of, 6. Phocis, 249. Phthia, in Andromache, 219 ff. Plataea, battle of, in Persce, 87. Propylaea, 14. Punjaub, 39. SALAMIS, 7, 12, 14. M. at, 10. E. at, 17. E. born at, 17. in Persez, 87. Saronic gulf, in Agamemnon, 124. Scyros, in S.'s Philoctetes, 162. Scythia, in Prom. V., 93. Seaford, Sussex, 354 n. Shrine of Thetis, in Andromache, 219 ff. Sicilian sea, in E.'s Electra, 253. Sicily, 119, 313. .#. in, 10. Sicyon, 3 n., 22. Neophron of, 21. Sistine Chapel, 102. South Russia, 247-8. Sparta, in E.'s Telephus, 295. II. PLACES, ETC. 369 Sparta, in A.'s Acharnians, 296. Susa, Xerxes' palace at, in Perscz, Syracuse, E. in, 17. Hiero of, 10. TAURI, in Iph. T., 321. Tegea, Aristarchus of, 21-2. Tent of Agamemnon, 52. Thebes, in Seven. Antigone, 137 ff. (Ed. Col., 168 ff., 185. - (Ed. Tyr., 145 ff. E.'s Antiope, 298. BacchcB, 277 ff. Here. Fur., 228 ff. Hypsipyle, 304-5. Phcenissce, 264 ff. Supplices, 235. The Marshes, Athens, 49. Thessaly, in Alcestis, 186 ff. Andromache, 219 ff. Thibet, 248. Thrace and Athens, 294-5. in Hecuba, 215 ff. Tomb of Achilles, in Hecuba, 216. Agamemnon, in E.'s Electro, 253. Tomb of Clytaemnestra, in E.'s Orestes, 269. Darius, in M.'s Persce, 64. Proteus, in E. 's Helena, 259. Trachis, in Trachinia, 154 ff. Troad, 295. Trcezen, in Hippolytus, 205 ff. Troy, 118, 270. in Agamemnon, 99 ff. ^E.'s Philoctetes, 120. Weighing of the Souls, 120. S.'s Ajax, 132 ff. Laocoon, 174. Philoctetes, 161 ff. E.'s Electra, 253. Hecuba, 215 ff. Helena, 259 ff. I. A., 285 ff. Rhesus, 291 ff. Telephus, 295. Troades, 243. UPPER CONGO, 248. VERONA, its scenery, in Sh., 63. Venusberg, 283. Venice, its scenery, in Sh., 63. III. PERSONS AND WORKS A. = Aristophanes, JR. .flJschylus, Ar. = Aristotle, E. Euripides, S. = Sophocles, Sh. = Shakespeare. Names of authors in small capitals, of works in italics. Acamas, in Heracleida, 200 ff. ACH^US of Eretria, 21, 25. his Philoctetes, 25. Acharnians, see ARISTOPHANES. Achilles, 176, 226, 319. in M., 20. Myrmidons, 118. Nereids, 118. Phrygians, 118. Weighing of Souls, 120. E. Andromache, 220. /. AuL, 285 ff., 317, 322. Telephus, 295-6. Homer's Iliad, 119, 288. S. Philoctetes, 162. tomb of, in E. Hecuba, 216. Achilles, of Aristarchus, 23. Actor, in E. Philoctetes, 296. Admetus, in E. Alcestis, 187 ff. A Doll's House, see IBSEN. Ad Quint um Fratrem, see CICERO. Adrastus, 3 n. k. of Argos, in JE. Septem, 89. in E. Hypsip., 305. Suppl., 234 ff. Adversus indoctos, see LUCIAN. ^EANTIDBS, 40. .fligeus, k. of Athens, in E. Medea, 193, 312, 322-3. Neophron's M., 21. /Egisthus in JE. Agamemnon, 79, 100 ff. Choeph., 106 ff. E. Electra, 253. E. Orestes, 268 ff. S. Electra, 141 ff. /Egyptus, in M. Supplices, 84. JULIAN, his Varia Historia, xiv. 40, p. 35 n. ; ii. 8, p. 243 n. .(Eneas, in S. Laocoon, 174. Rhesus, 291 ff. Mneid, see VERGIL. ^Eolus in E. Mglanippe, 305. Aerope, see CARCINUS. /ESCHINES, 70 and n., 83. ^ESCHYLUS, 4, 5, 6, 10-17, X 9i 20, 2 3 25, 38. 70, 75-6, 82, 84 ff., 173, i?7, 179, 180, 182, 192, 249, 275, 276 n., 284, 293, 296, 297, 309, 311, 325, 357- a ballet-master, 78. and At6, 129. Chthonian religion, 130. Conscience, 130. Euripides, 121, 315-7, etc. Fate, 125, 130. Homer, 118. Olympians, 130. Zeus, 213. as dramatist, 125 ff. literary artist, 120-5. creator of tragic diction, 122. death, n. desk, 34. epitaph, 10 n. general appreciation of, 120 ff. grandeur of language, 121. his interest in politics, 128 and n. in Horace Ars. Poet., 56. invented dress of tragic actors, 69. metaphors, 123. metre, 334. picturesqueness in characterisation, language and structure, 123-8. religious views, 128. simplicity of structure and language, 122, 126. Agamemnon, vi, 16, 55, 62, 64, 71, 77, 86, 99-106, 109, no, 126, 213 and n., 245, 317, 33 8 , 345- beacon-speech in, 124. chariots and horses in, 64. chorus in, 79. eccyclema in, 66. herald in, 73. 370 III. PERSONS AND WORKS 371 AESCHYLUS, Agamemnon, watchman in, 124. [11. partlyor wholly quoted, 2, 160- 83, 184-249, 494-5, 750-7, 975 sqq.,g88sqq., 1147, 1434, 1530 sqq.] Choephorce, 16, 20, 56, 64, 104, 106- 10, 126, 142, 253, 258, 270, 279. chorus in, 79. invocation of Ag.'s shade in, 74. nurse in, 124. tomb in, 64. [11., 313 sq. t 451-2, 647, 870-4, 889, 900, 930, 1075-6.] Eumenides, 42 n., 55 n., 56, 68, no, III-7, 121, 128, 217, 249. chorus in, 76. dress of Furies in, 69. eccyclema in, 67. jury in, 70. propompi in, 71. scene changes in, 63. shade of Clytaemnestra in, 107 n. [11., 116, 137-8, 283, 398-401, 517-9, 640-51, 681-710, 747, 788 sq. , 886.] Niobe, 119. Persce, 8, 9, 10, 18, 38, 47, 64, 86-9, 123, 125. ghost in, 107 n. metre in, 356. only extant tragedy on non- mythological subject, 87. and Phrynichus' Phoenissce, 8, 9. [11., 81 sq., 115, 126 sq., 346, 361-2, 395, 480-514. 8l 5-J Prometheus Vinctus, 57, 65, 91-8, 109, 124, 125, 128, 244. [11., 12, 15, 89-90, 115, 170, 350-2, 415-20, 993, 1068.] Septem contra Thebas, 20, 89-91, 95, 123, 125, 267 n., 268 n. [11., 375 sqq., 493-4, 591-4, 689- 91, 895 Iff.] Supplices, 7, 12, 76, 77, 84-6, 95, 121, 123, 124, 126. chorus in, 76. [11., 12, 91-5, 230-1, 418 sqq., 582 sqq., 608, 656, 836-7, 991-4, 994-1013, 1068.] Amymone, 85 ; Bassarce or Bas- sarides, 117 ; Cabiri, 119 ; Danaides, 85, 128 ; Daughters of the Sun, 119; Edoni, 117; Egyp- tians, 85 ; Glaucus of Potniez, 87 ; Laius, go; Lycurgea (trilogy), 117; Lycurgus (satyric play), 117; Men of Eleusis, 119; Men of Persia (= Persce), 86; Myr- midons, 118; Nereides, 118 ; Niobe, 119 [Fr. ap. Plato "Rep. " qd.] ; CEdipus, go ; Oresteia (trilogy), ii, 85, 92, 95, 98 ff., 123, 126, 128, 134 ; Philoctetes, 119 ; Phineus, 87 ; Phrygians, 118 ; Prometheus (satyric play), 87 and n. ; Prometheus the Fire-bringer, 92-3 ; Proteus (sat. pi.) 98 and n. ; P. Unbound, 93 ; Ransom of Hec- tor, 118 ; Sphinx (satyric pi.), 90 ; Thracian Women, 119 ; Weighing of Souls, 120 ; Women of Etna, 10, 119; Youths, 117; Women of the Fawn-skin, 117. Mthiopica, see HELIODORUS. jEthra, in E. Supplices, 234 ff. Agamemnon, 76, 254. in JE. Again., 89 ff., 125. Myrmidons, 118. E. Hecuba, 216 ff. /. Aul., 285 ff. Orestes, 270. Telephus, 295-6. Troades, 243 ff. S. Ajax, 132 ff. palace of, in S. Electra, 141 ff. shade of, invoked in M. Choeph., 74, 107 and n. and no. tent of, 52. torab of, 64, 106 (Choeph.), 253 (E. EL). Agamemnon, see JS,. AQATHON of Athens, 21, 25-9, 50 n., 55, 72, 77, 315. Antheus, 26. Anthos, 26. Fall of Troy, 27. Flower, 26. Agave, in E. Bacchte, 277 ff. Agen, satyric drama, 38-9. Ajax, 62. death of, on stage, 46. in S. Ajax, 132 ff., 177-8, 180, 185. Ajax, see SOPHOCLBS. Alcestis, in E. Ale., 186 ff.' death of, on stage, 46. Alcestis, see EURIPIDES and PHRY- NICHUS. Alcibiades, 82, 167, 236, 268 n. Alcmaeon, 46. jn ASTYDAMAS, 31. Alcmaon, etc., see EURIPIDES. Alcmena, 231 ; in E. Heracleidce, 200 ff. Alcon, 13. Alexander the Great, 29, 36, 39, 163, 3i3- tragedian, 39, 40. tyrant of Pherae, 35, 38. Alexander, see EURIPIDES. 372 GREEK TRAGEDY Alexandra, see LYCOPUKON. Alope, see CHCERILUS. Altgriechische Literatur, see GOETHE. Althaea, in Phrynichus' Pleuronia, 7. Amphiaraus, 235, in M. Septem, 91, 124. in Carcinus' Thyestes, 35. E. Hypsipyle, 304. Amphiaraus, see SOPHOCLES. Amphion, in E. Antiope, 298. Amphitryon, in E. Here. Fur., 228 ff. Amymone, see ^SCHYLUS. ANACREON, 337 n. ANATOLB FRANCE, vi, 326. Anaxagoras, 17, 18, 307. Andromache, 262 ; in E. Andr., 225 ff. ; E. Troades, 243 ff. Andromache, see EURIPIDES. Andromeda, in E. Andromeda, 8, 299 f. Andromeda, see EURIPIDES. Anonymous Life of Sophocles, 15 n. Antaeus, in Phrynichus' Antceus, 7. Antaus, see PHRYNICHUS. Antheus, see AGATHON. Anthos, see AGATHON. Antigone, 64 ; in M. Septem, 90-1 ; in E. Phoen., 264 ff. ; in S. Antigone, 137 ff., 177-8 ; in (E. Col., 168 ff., 182. Antigone, see SOPHOCLES. Antiiochus, in JE. Myrmidons, 118. Antiope, in E. Antiope, 298. Antiope, see EURIPIDES. Aphrodite, 85, in JE. Danaides, 128; in E. Helena, 259 ; in Hippol., 205 ff. ; in /. Aul., 285. Apollo, 67, 69. his temple at Delphi, 63. in JE. Bassarids, 117; Choeph., 107-8; Eumen., 85, in ff., 129; in E. Alcestis, 186 ff. ; Androma., 220 ff., 226-7 ; El., 252 ff. ; I. Taur., 247 ; Orestes, 268 ff. ; in S. Ichneutee, 2, 175. APULEIUS, 320. Archelaus, actor, 298. k. of Macedonia, 18, 26. Archemorus, in E. Hypsip., 304 and n. Ares, 252 ; in E. Phcen., 264. Ariel's song, 354. Arion, i, 3, 4, 5. ARISTARCHUS of Tegea, 21-3. Achilles, 23. Asclepius, 22. ARISTEAS, 90. Aristides, 91, 128 n. Aristides, see PLUTARCH. ARISTOPHANES, 9, 14, 60, 226 n., 295, 322. ARISTOPHANES, and M., 118, 121-2. E., 17 ff., 262, 312 ff., 318, 320. Acharnians, 54 n., 67, 296 [1., 732]. Birds, 8 and n., 174 and n., 175 [11. 100 sqq., 748-51]. Clouds, 65, 67, 215 n. [11., 225, 1165 sq.]. Ecclesiazusez , 54 n. [1. 1151]. Fragments (Meineke, ii., p. 1177), 119 and n. Frogs, 7, ii n., 19-20, 24 and n., 27, 72 and n., 74 and n., 80, 90, 118 n., 121, 122, 124, 126 and n., 215 and nn., 298, 304 n., 311-2 n. [II. 53, 82, 84, 101, 297, 303, 689, 850, 886, 908 sqq. , 911-3, 924-5, 932, 939 sqq., 948 sqq., 954-8, 959, 1021, 1041, 1043 s?., 1119 sqq., 1122, 1198-1247, 1261-95, 1304-8, 1309-63, 1314, 1348, 1378-1410, 1467.] Knights, 54 n., 67 [11. 148, 1249], Peace, 24, 65, 83, 297 [1. 835]. Thesmophoriazusa, 26, 27, 28 and nn., 72 and n., 215, and nn., 262, 296, 298 [11. 54 sqq., 100, 130 sqq., 275-6, 497, 547]. Wasps, 8 and n., 54 n., 57 [11. 220, 1342, 1514]. see Parody. ARISTOTLE, vi, 3, 25, 54 ; analysis of Features of Tragedy, 44-8. and Macbeth, 42 ; and E. Medea, 322 ; and the Three Unities, 42 n. and catharsis, 43 ; definitions (of Tragedy, 43 ; of other things, 47) ; mentions Carcinus, 35 ; on Agathon's Peripeteia, 27 ; on Eurip., 312 ff. ; on origin of Tragedy, 2 n. ; on S. CE. Tyr., 46-8 ; standpoint of his criticism, 42; taught and quoted Theo- dectes, 36 ; value of his evidence, 42. Didascalia or Dramatic Produc- tions, 62. Ethics, ii n. [iiiia, 11506, 10], 83 and n. [X, 1175 B]. Poetic, 3 n., 5, ii n., 15 and n., 26 and n., 27 n., 31 and n., 32, 41 ff., 77 and n., 148, 151 and n., 174 n., 196 and n., 289 and n., 2 97 n -i 37 n - and 308 n., 312 and n. ; [1447 B 1462 B qd. passim]. Rhetoric, 32 and n., 61 and n., 139 and n. [II, 14006, 14176 ; III, i., Ill, xii. 2, xvi. 9], (Hypomnemata), 22 and n. ARISTOXENUS, on Cola, 351. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 373 ARNOLD, MATTHEW, 355-6; Merope, 309; Scholar-Gipsy, 323-4, 3^6. Ars Poetica, see HORACE. Artemis, in E. Hippol., 205, 284 n. ; /. Aul., 285 ff. ; I. Taur., 247 ff. Asclepius, 13. Asclepius, see ARISTARCHUS. Astyanax, in E. Troades, 243 ff. ASTYDAMAS (father and son), 31, 59. Hector, 31; Parthenopceus,^i. Astyoche, in S. Eurypylus, 176. Athena, in JE. Eumen., in ff., 317 ; E. Andromeda, 301 ; Heracleida, 201 ; Ion, 236 ff. ; I. Taur., 247 ff. ; Philoct., 297 ; Rhesus, 291 ff. ; SuppL, 234 ff. ; Troad., 243 ff; ; in S. Ajax, 132 ff. Athena's temple, in Eumen., 63. ATHEWEUS, 25 and n., 32 and n., 34 n., 39 n., 175 [III, 98 D; X, 451 C; XIII, 595 F; fragm. 10]. Atlas, in &. Prom. V., 128; in E. Hippol., 208. Atossa, in JE. Persa, 86 n., 87. Atreidje, palace of, in Again., 124 ; Atr. in S. Ajax, 136. Atreus, house of, in S. Electra, 143 ; and 129. Attic Theatre, see HAIGH. - Tragedy, see HAIGH. AULUS GKLLIUS, on E., 17 and n. [XV, 20]. Bacchce, see EURIPIDES. Riddle of the, see NORWOOD. Bacchantes, see EURIPIDES. Bacchus, in Bac., 277 ff. BACCHYLIDES, 24. BADHAM on Helena, 263 n. Bassanios, 73. Bassarce, -rides, see ^SCHYLUS. Bellerophon, 65; in E. Seller., 297. Bellerophon, see EURIPIDES. BENTLEY, 23 n. BERNARD SHAW, see SHAW. BERNHARDY, Grundriss der griech. Lit- teratur, 40 n., 163 n. [II, ii. p. 72 and p. 370], 253 n. [II, ii., p. 490]. Bia, a mute in JE. Prom. V., 92 n., 94. BION, son of JE., ii. Birds, see ARISTOPHANES. BOCKH, on Rhesus, 294 n. Boreas, in S. Orithyia, 175. Boucher, Fr. painter, 34. BRIGHT, JOHN, 348. BROOKS, RUPERT, 358. BROWNING, Mrs., on E., 324 n. BUNYAN, 23. BUTCHER'S translation of AR. Poetic, 4 n., 26 n., 44 n., 77. BYRON, on d. of Kirk White, 118 and n. Cabiri, see AESCHYLUS. Cadmus, in E. Bacchce, 277 ff. Phcen., 264. CALLIMACHUS, 40. Capaneus, in E. Supplices, 235. Captain Osborne, in Vanity Fair, 319. Capture of Miletus, see PHRYNICHUS. CARCINUS, 34-6, 41 ; Aerope, 35 ; Medea, 35 ; CEdiptts, 35 ; Thyestes, 35. CARROT, E. F., The Theory of Beauty [p. 156], 320 and n. Cassandra, 66 ; in M. Agam., 99 ff., 245 ; in E. Troad., 243 ff. Cassiopeia, in E. Andromeda, 299. Castor, in E. Electra, 252 n., etc.; in Helena, 258 n., 259 ff. Catasterismoi, see ERATOSTHENES. Celebrants of the Thesmophoria, see ARISTOPHANES Thesmophoriazusez. Centaur, see CH^REMON. Cephalus, in Hippol., 212. Cepheus, in Andromeda, 299 f. Cerberus, in Here. Fur., 228 ff. Cercyon, in Carcinus' Alope, 35. CH^REMON, 32 ff., 41 ; Centaur, 32 ; Thyestes, 32 ; (Eneus, 33. Chevron, see PHERECRATES. Cherry Orchard, see TCHEKOV. Children of Heracles, see EURIPIDES. Chiron, the Centaur, 98. Choephorce, see M. CHOSRILUS, 5, 6; Alope, 6; Satyric drama, 5. Christ and Prometheus, 97. CHRIST, Geschichte der griech. Litt. [p. 210, etc.], 163 n., 294 n. Christus Patiens, 41. CHRYSOSTOM, Dio, see D.C. Chrysothemis, in S. Electra, 141 ff., 152, 178-9. GIBBER, 9. CICERO, Ad Q. Fratrem [II, xv. 3], 174 and n. ; Orator [51], 36* Cimon, 23 ; and Cimon, see PLUTARCH. Clarendon (Earl of), vi. Cleanthes, the philosopher, 39. Cleisthenes, 3 n. Cleon, 325. Clito, mother of E., 17. Clouds, see ARISTOPHANES. Clymene, in E. Phaethon, 301 ff. Clytaemnestra, 46, 66, 70 ; and Lady Macbeth, 104 ; C.'s ghost, in JE. Eumen., in ff. ; tomb, in E. Orestes, 269; 374 GREEK TRAGEDY Clytaemnestra, in JE. Agam., 73 and n., 99 ff. ; Choeph., 73 and n., 106 ff., 126. E. Andromache, 220 ; /., 252 ff. ; /. Aul., 285 ff., 322; Orest., 268 ff. in S. EL, 141 ff. CONGREVE, 36, 322. Constance, in Sh. K.J., 234. Copreus, in E. Heracleidce and Homer //., xv. 639 ; 200 and n. Cordelia, in Sh. Lear, 137. Corporal Mulvaney, 319. Correggio, 33. CRATES, critic and philos., 37, 294. CRATINUS, 19 n. Cratos, in M. Pr. V. 92 ff. Creon, in E. Medea, 192 ff., 317 ; Phcen., 264 ff. ; Suppl., 235. S. Antigone, 137 ff., 177 n. ; (E. Col., 168 ff., 217; (E. T., 145 ff., 178. Cresphontes, in E. Cresph., 307. Cresphontes, see EURIPIDES. Cretans, see EURIPIDES. Cretan Women, see EURIPIDES. Cretan Zeus, 310. Creusa, in E. Ion, 236 ff., 303, 318, 322. CRITIAS, 29; his Pirithous, 29; Sisy- phus, 29. CROISET, Histoire de la Litter. Grecque [iii. 49], 9 n., 25 n. [Hi. 400 n.], in n. his arrangement of E. Ale., 186 n. ; H. Fur., 228 n. ; Hippol., 205 n ; I. Aul., 285 n. ; Or., 268 n. ; Phcen., 264 n. ; of S. Antig., 136 n. ; (E. Col., 167 n. Cyclops, see EURIPIDES. Cyllene, the nymph, in S. Ichneutcz, 176. Cynegirus, bro. of JE., 10. Cypris, in E. Helena, 261. Daedalus, 126. Danae, see EURIPIDES. Danaidae, 272. Danaid.es, see ^SCHYLUS. Danaids, 76. Danaus, in JE. Suppl., 84 ff. his daughters, 76. Daphnis, see SOSITHEUS. Darius, 7; in JE. Persa, 87-9 ; Darius's tomb, 64. Das griech. Theater, see D6RPFRLD. Daughters of Danaus, see PHRYNICHUS. the Sun, see .^SCHYLUS. DAVENANT, 9. De Falsa Legation e, see DEMOSTHENES. De Gloria Atheniensium, see PLUTARCH. Deianira, in S. Trachinia, 154 ff., 178- 9, 180. DEKKER and MASSINQER, The Virgin Martyr, 137. Demeter, in CARCINUS, 35. E. Helena, 259-60. S. Triptolemus, 173. De Metris, see PLOTIUS. Demophon, in E. Heracleida, 200 ff. DEMOSTHENES, 31, 82, 83 n., 182. De Falsa Legatione [ 337], 83 n. In Meidiam, 82 ; Olynthiacs [I, 5], 334 " De Profectu in Virtute, see PLUTARCH De Sublimitate, see " LONQINUS ". Detectives, see SOPHOCLES. Dexion, 13. Dicaeopolis, in A. Acharn., 67, 296. Dictys, see EURIPIDES. Didascalice, see ARISTOTLE. DIDYMUS, the critic, 304 n. Die Eurhythmie in den Chorgtsdngen der Griechen, see SCHMIDT. DINDORF, 235 n. Dinner-party, see SOPHOCLES. Dio CHRYSOSTOM, Oration, 52, 120 and n., 165-6 and n., 296-7. " DIOGENES LAERTIUS," 5, 25, 39 n. [ii. 133, vii. 173], DIOOENES, the philosopher, 37. Diomedes, in E. Alcestis, 187 ; Philoct., 166, 296 ; Rhesus, 291 ff. DlONYSIADES, 40. DIONYSIUS of Halicarnassus, 306. the Elder, 34 ; his Hector's Ransom, 34- Younger, 35. Dionysus, i, 2 and n., 3 n, 4, 49. altar of, in theatre, 51. artists of, 75. Eleuthereus, 49. priest of, 80. ivy sacred to, 61-2. Philiscus, priest of, at Alexandria, 40. ritual of, 81 n. theatre of, Athens, 49, 56. in Progs, 80 n., 124, 298, 316. Baccha, 73, 277 ff. Hypsip, 304. Antigone, 141. (E. Col., 170. Lycurgea, 117. Dioscuri, 257 ; in Helena, 260; E. Ant- iope, 298. Doctor, see Grenfell, Hayley, Hunt, Mackail, Stockman, Verrall. Doctor's Dilemma, see SHAW. Dogberry, 199. Dolon, in Rhesus, 291 ff. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 375 Don Carlos, see SCHILLBR. Doris, w. of Dionysius the elder, 34. Dorothea, in Virgin Martyr, 137. DORPFELD, Das griechische Theater, 53 ff. in Bull. Corr. Hell. [1896, p. 577 *??] 59 " DOSTOEVSKY, 319; The Possessed, ch. i., p. 322. Dramatic Productions, see ARISTOTLE. Ecclesiazusce,see ARISTOPHANES. Echo, in E. Andromeda, 299. nymph, S. Philoct., 166. Edoni, of Thrace, 117. Edoni, see ^ESCHYLUS. Egyptians see /ESCHYLUS. see PHRYNICHUS. Eido, in E. Helena, 263. Einleitung, etc., see WILAMOWITZ-M. Electra, in M. Choeph., 106 ff. E. El., 252 ff. Orest., 73, 79, 268 ff., 319. S. El., 141 ff., 177, 178, 181-2. Electra, see EURIP. and SOPH. ELIOT, GEORGE, Middlemarch, 334 n. Empedocles, 127. ENNIUS, 23, 333 n. " Entertainer," 13. Eos, in M. W. of Souls, 120. Epaphus, in M. Prom. V., 94. Ephialtes, 116. Epidemiai, see ION. Epodes, see HORACE. ERATOSTHENES, Catasterismoi [19], 301 n. Eratosthenes, see LYSIAS. Erechtheus, in E. Erech., 297. Erechtheus, see EURIPIDES and SWIN- BURNE. Erinys, no. Eriphyle, 46. Eros, in E. Andromeda, 300. Plato's Symposium, 28 n. Eschyle, see PAT IN. Essays on Two Moderns, see SALTER. Eteocles, 76 ; in M. Septem, 89 ff., 129 ; in E. Phten., 264 ft. Ethics, see ARISTOTLE. EUBULUS, comedian, 34. EUCLID, the geometer, 40. Eumelos, in E. Alcestis, 71, 186 n. Eumenides, at Colonus, 172. Eumenides, see ^SCHYLUS. EUPHORION, 10, n, 18, 192, 296. EUPHRONIUS, 40. Euripidean Rhesus, etc., see PORTER. EURIPIDES, vi, 13-15, 17-23, 26-7, 31-2, 67, 72, 83, 128, 177, 180, 182, 186 ff-i 3575 an d Agathon, 28; and legends, 314-5 ; and modern Eng- land, 324 ; and Shaw, 320-1 ; and Theodectes, 37 ; as schoolbook, 21, 215 ; blamed by Ar., 42 ; copied by Sosiphanes, 41 ; in later Gk. times, 21, 320; inventor of prose- drama, 323 ; relics of, 34 ; text of, .41. Euripides' criticism of JE., 20, 121, 126 andn. ; agnosticism, 318; death, 277 ; feeling for beauty, 320 ; genius and personality, 310 ff. ; handling of traditional material, 46 ; heroes in rags, 69 ; library, 17 ; metre, 334-5 ; originality in portraiture, 319; prologos, 47; sophistry, 317 ; technique, 19-21. and his Age, see MURRAY. der Dichter, etc., see NESTLE. ' Apology, see VERRALL. in a Hymn, see VERRALL. restitutus, see HARTUNQ. the Rationalist, see VERRALL. Alcestis, 7, 17 n., 21, 55 n., 71, 76, 159 n., 186-92, and 294-5 [11. 29, 32. 34. 37, 58, 158-84, 179, 280-325, 763-4, 904 sqq., 1159- 63L Alcmeeon at Corinth, 285-6. Psophis, 185, 295. Alexander, 243. Andromache, 21, 65, 77, 187 n., 219-28, 313 n., 318, 328, 330 [11. 147-80, 164, 166, 229 sq., 241, 260, 445-63, 464-94, 588-9, 595" 601, 632 sqq., 639, 708 sqq., 732 sqq., 752 sqq., 804, 929-53, 964, 1002 sqq., 1147 sqq., 1239 sqq.]. Andromeda, 298-301, 303, 321. Antiope, 298. Bacchce, 17, 68-70, 73, 77 and n., 187 n., 277-87, 304 "., 313 "M 321, 326, 356. [Bacchantes see last]. [11. 12, 64 sqq., 233-4, 625, 632-3, 677-774, 703. 732-51, 1325 *?] Bellerophon, 284 n., 297 [Fragm., 294-7]. [Children of Heracles, see Herac- leidce]. Cresphontes, 307-9. Cretans, 310. Cretan Women, 295. Cyclops (sat.), 2, 191, 289-91, 362 [II. 316-41, 361 sqq., 460-3, 549, 672-5-] Danae, 309. Dictys, 192, 296. Electra, 20, 55 n., 64, 65, 77, 142-3, 252-8, 313 n. [11. 4 sqq., 9-10, 25 376 GREEK TRAGEDY sqq., 54, 6o-l, 77-8, 255 sqq., 362 sqq-, 354-5. 367 sqq., 652-60, 737- 45, 1041-3, 1142-6, 124559., 1294, 1296-7, 1301-7, 1327 sqq., 1347- 56]. Euripides, Erechtheus, 297-8. Fragmenta Adespota, 324 n. [nos. 894, 916]. Harvesters (sat.), 192, 296. Hecuba, 21, 76, 215-9, 265, 268 [11. 68 sqq., 174 sq., 230, 342-78, 421, 428-30, 462, 518-82, 531-3, 585 sqq., 592-603, 629 sqq. , 671, 702 sqq., 779 sq., 796 sq., 799 sqq., 806-8, 814-9, 894-7, 905 sqq., 953-67,1187-94, 1287 sq.]. Helena, 55 n., 76, 160 n., 187 n., 258-64, 318 n., 322 [11. 20-1, 138 sqq., 157, 183 sqq., 205 sqq., 256-9, 284-5, 355-6, 489 sqq., 491, 567, 616, 629, 744-60, 832, 878 sqq., 1013-6, 1048, 1050-2, 1107 sqq., 1140-3, 1301 sqq.]. Heracleidce, 76, 200-5, 288 [U- 45'7> 240 sq., 513, 540, 563, 597 sqq., 625, 629 sq., 638, 665, 819-22, 847, 869 sqq., 910 sqq. , 990, 997-9, 1020-5, 1035-7, 1049-52]. Hercules Furens, 55 n., 65, 189, 203 n., 228-34, 3 1 ?. 326 [11. 65-6, 76, 70-9, 119, 140-235, 151-64, 153 sq., 339 sqq., 460-89, 485-9, 562- 82, 585-94, 798 sqq., 857, 601 sqq., 673 sqq., 1002-6, 1222, 1255-1310, 1269 sqq., 1340-93, 1340-6]. Hippolytus, 16, 21, 56, 71, 77, 205- 15. 317-8, 320, 326 [H. 29-33, 73- 87, 121-5, 135-40, 151-4, 191-7, 208-31, 281, 328, 337 sqq., 384, 373-430, 415 sqq., 439-61, 474 sq., 493-6, 490 sq., 503-6, 507 sq., 512, 516, 565, 612, 616-68, 689-92, 728- 31, 732-51, 828-9, 831-3, 960 sq., 967-70, 1034 sq. , 1035, 1060-3, 1076 sq., 1082-3, 1375 sq., 1379- 83, 1423-30]. Hippolytus Veiled, 205 n. - Hypsipyle, 304-5. Ino, 309. Ion, 21 and n., 55 n., 70, 76, 79, igi, 236-43, 251, 276, 298, 318, 322 [11. 125-7, 265-8, 308, 313, 369 sqq., 436-51, 542, 548, 550 sqq., 585 sqq., 589 sqq., 727, 768 sqq., 859 sqq., 916, 952, 1029 sqq., 1039, I2H-6, 1215 sqq., 1312 sqq., 1324, *397 sqq., 1419, 1424, 1468 sq., 1520-7, 1537 sq., 1546 sqq., 1550, 1565, 1595]. Euripides, Iphigenia among the Tauri- ans, see I ph. in Tauris. at Aulis, 64, 70, 77, 285-9, 304, 312, 313 n., 317, 322, 334 n. [11. 320, 407, 414, 882, 919-74, 1366 sq.}. in Tauris, 31, 45, 73, 76, 247-52, 260, 321 [11. 73, 77, 123-5, 275, 281 sqq., 380 sqq., 626, 677, JIT. sqq., 7*9 sq., 739 sq., 823-6, 933, 939 sqq., 945, 961 sqq., 965 sq., 968 sqq., 976 sqq., 980, 985 sq., 1038-40, 1046, 1205, 1232, 1434]. Medea, 18, 21 and n., 22 and n., 35, 4<5, 55, 77. 96, 187 n., 191, 192- 9, 201, 208, 279, 296-7, 317, 321- 33 [H. i, 230-51, 309 sq., 349, 364, 389 sqq., 450, 454, 472, 635, 801 sq., 824-45, 93 sq., 944 sq., 1021- 80, 1081-1115, 1231-5, 1236-50, 1367, 1375-7, 1381-3]- Melanippe, 305 n. ; M. in Prison, 305 n. the Wise, 83, 305-7, 313 n. Orestes, 17 n., 21, 64, 70, 72, 73, 74, 77, 79, 215-6 n., 251, 265, 268-77, 288, 315, 318, 319 and n., 323, 334 [11- r -3. 28 sqq., 37 sqq., 72- 92, 71-111, 78 sq., loi-n, 121, 126 sqq., 174 sqq., 285 sqq., 310, 360 sqq., 362, 365, 367, 371 sqq., 373, 380 sqq., 386, 388, 390, 395- 8, 417, 420, 423, 481 sqq., 491- 525,502, 544*??-. 55. 551,568, 615 sqq., 634, 640 sq., 658-61, 674, 740, 743, 745, 747. 749, 75^, 797, 872, 892, 894, 932 sqq., 960 sqq., 982 sqq., 983, 1204 sqq., 1323, 1493 sqq-, 1535-9, 1547 sqq., r 576, 1662- 3, 1666 sqq.]. Palamedes, 243. Peliades, 17. Phaethon, 56, 300, 321. Philoctetes, 192, 296-7. Phoenician Women or Phaenissfp, 21, 6 4, 77. 91, 215-6 n., 264-8 [11. 88- 201, 114 sqq., 302 sq. , 316, 528 sqq., 590 s^., 6)g, 612, 751 sq., 1090-1199, 1104-40, 1182 sq., 1223-82, 1233 sq., 1259 sqq., 1265- 6, 1524 sq., 1758 sq.]. Polyidus, 309. Rhesus, 21, 23 n., 76, 186 n., igi, 291-5' 313 n -, 321 [H. 319-23, 422- 53, 474-84, 528, 546-56, 618, 962- 73, 971]- Sisyphus (satyric play), 243. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 377 Euripides, Suppliant Women or Sup- plices, 20, 65, 77 and n., 160 n., 234-6 [II. 195-218, 297-331, 403-56, 518-44, 567, 846-54, 1054-6]. Telephus, 185, 295-6. - The Crowned Hippolytus, 205 n., 214 ; The Veiled H., 214. - Troades, or Trojan Women, 21, 76, 243-6, 248, 262, 308, 318 and n., 321 [11. 67 sq., 220 sqq., 469 sqq., 703 sqq., 710, 738, 764, 841 sqq., 884 sqq., 1060 sqq., 1158 sqq., 1204 sqq., 1240 sqq.]. Women of Crete, 186. son of E., 285-6. Europa, 175 n. Eurydice, in S. Antigone, 137 ff. E. Hypsipyle, 304. Eurypylus in S. Eurypylus, 176 and n. Eurypylus, see SOPHOCLES. Eurysaces, in S. Ajax, 71. Eurystheus, in E. Heracleidtz, 200 ff. Eurytus, in S. Track., 154 ff. Evadne, 65 ; in E. Suppl., 234 ff. Fall of Troy, see AGATHON. Faust, in MARLOWE, 185. FLAUBERT, La Tentation de S. Antoine, 326. FLETCHER, 317. Flower, see AGATHON. Fortinbras, in Hamlet, 152 n. Founding of Chios, see ION. Four Plays of Euripides, see VERRALL. Fragmenta Comic. Grczc., see MEINEKE. FRANCE, ANATOLE, see A. F. Frederick the Great, 34. Frenzy, in E. Here. Fur., 229 ff. Gabler, Hedda, see H. G. Galatea, statue of, 126. GALSWORTHY, Justice, 37. Garrick and Macbeth, 70. GELLIUS, AULUS, see A. G. Geschichte der griechischen Litteratur, see CHRIST. GILBERT MURRAY, see MURRAY. Giotto, 33. Glauce, in E. Medea, 192 ff. Glaucus, 8 n. ; in E. Or., 275 and n. Glaucus, etc., see ^ESCHYLUS. GOETHE, AltgriechischeLiteratur(Wks., V. 127, ed. 1837), 3 01 n -i an d 302 and n. Gorgias, 28, 218. GRANT ALLEN, 20 n. Great Play, see ION. Gregers Werle, 317. GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS, 41. Grenfell, Dr., 18. Greuze, 34. Griechische Litteraturgeschichte, tee MULLER-HEITZ. Growth and Influence of Clatsical Greek Poetry, see JEBB. Grundriss der griechischen Litteratur, see BERNHARDY. HADLEY, introdn. to Hecuba [pp. ix.-xii.], 217 n. Hadrian, 41. Hsemon, in E. Phcen., 264 ; in S. Anti- gone, 137 ff. HAGGARD, SIR H. RIDER, 248. Hagnon, 295. HAIGH, Attic Tragedy, 16, 53 ff., 55 nn., 59 n., 65 and n., 73 n., 75 n., 80, 81 n. Tragic Drama of the Greeks, i n., 6 n., 15, 25 n., 124 and n. Hamlet, 72, 136, 217. Hamlet, see SHAKESPEARE. HANKIN, ST. JOHN, 28. Harpalus, 39. HARTUNG, Euripides Restitutus, 299 n. 301 n., 305 n., 307. Harvesters, ste E. HAYLEY, Dr., on E. Alcestis, 187 n., 191 n. Hebe, in E. Heracleida, 201-2. Hebrews [xii. i], 349. Hector, in M. Myrmidons, and Phrygians, 118 ; Philoct., 120; in E. Rhesus, 291 ff. Hector, see ASTYDAMAS. Hector's Ransom, see DIONYSIUS THE ELDER and ^ESCHYLUS. Hecuba, in E. Hec., 215 ff. ; in Troades, 243, 262, 308, 318. Hecuba, see EURIPIDES. Hedda Gabler, 317. Hegel, 320. HegelocHus, the actor, 74. HEITZ-MULLER, Griechische Litteratur- geschichte [ii. 88], 92 n. Helen, 254; in M. Agam., 99; in E. Androma., 224; Helena, 258 n., 259 ff., 322 ; Or., 268 ff., 318, 323 ; in Troad., 243 n., 244. Helena, see E. Helenus, in E. Androma., 221. Heliodorus, novelist; JEthiopica, 299. Helios, in E. Phaethon, 301 ff. Hellenica, see XENOPHON. Helmer, Thorvald, in Ibsen's A Doll's House, 189. Henry VI, see SHAKESPEARE. Hephaestus, in JE. Nereids, 118. Prom. V., 92 ff. 378 GREEK TRAGEDY Hera, 94, 231-2 ; in E. Hel., 259 ; Hera- cleid., 201, 213 n. Ludovisi, 182. Heracleidae, in E. Hel., 200 ff. Heracleida, see EURIPIDES. Heracles, in PHRYNICHUS" Antaus. 69, 88, 96 and 98; in E. Ale., 186 ff. ; in Heracleid., 200 ff. ; in H. Fur., 228 ff . ; in S. Philoct., 120, 161 ff. ; Trackin., 154 ff., 180. Pirithous, 29. Hercules Furens, see EURIPIDES. HERMANN on Rhesus, 294 n. Hermathena [xvii. 348-80], 295. Hermes, 67; in XL. Bum., in ff. ; in Prom. V., 95, 124 ; in Homer, 119 ; in E. Ion., 236 ff. ; in S. Ichneutce, 175. Hymn to, see Hymn. Hermione, 79; in E. Andromache, 219 ff., 225 ff., 318; in Orestes, 268 ff. HERODOTUS, 3 and n., 7 n., 15, 89 [v. 67, vi. 21], HESYCHIUS, 281 n. Hiawatha, ste LONGFKLLOW. Hiero of Syracuse, 10, 119. Hippe, in E. Melanippe, 305 f. Hippolytus, in E. Hippol., 46, 205 ff., 279-80, 284 n., 318. Hippolytus, see EURIPIDES ; so H. Crowned, and H. Veiled. Histoire de la Litterature Grecque, see CROISET. History of Gk. Literature, see MA- HAFFY. HOMER, 21, 118, 123,320; Iliad, 120, 288, 291 ; Odyssey [iv. 351-86], 98 and n ; [ix. 105-566], 290 nn. the tragedian, 39. Homeric Hymn to Hermes, 175. HORACE, 21, 56 ; Ars Poetica, 5 n., 56 and n. ; Epodes, 345 n. [A. P. 275- 8]. HORACE WALPOLE, 311. " Host," 13. HUNT, DR. A. S., 18, 175 n. 176 n. ; and see Oxyrhynchus and Papyri. Hyllus, in E. Heracleid., 200 ff. ; in S. Trachinice, 154 ff., 178. Hymn to Hermes, 175. Hypermnestra, 85 ; in M. Danaides, 128. Hypsipyle, in E. Hypsip., 304. Hypsipyle, see EURIPIDES. IBSEN, p. v, 28, 211, 317; A Doll's House, 189, 224. Ichneutce, see SOPHOCLES. Iliad, see HOMER. Ino, see E. Io, in JE. Prom. V., 94 ff., 105. lolaus, in E. Heracleida, 200 ff. lole, in S. Trachinice, 154 ff., 179. ION of Chios, 21, 23-4; Memoirs or Epidemiai, 13 n., 15; Founding of Chios, 23 ; Great Play, 24 and n. in E. Ion, 236 ff., 279, 303. Ion, see EURIPIDES. lophon, s. of SOPHOCLES, 13, 60. Iphigenia, 42, 263, 270, 318, 321 ; in JE. Agam., 99 ff. ; in E. Iph. A., 285 ff., 322 ; Iph. T., 73, 247 ff. ; in POLYIDUS Iphig., 32. Iphigenia, see POLYIDUS. at Aulis, see EURIPIDES. in Tauris, see EURIPIDES. Iphis, in E. Suppl., 234 ff. Iris, apparition, of, in E. H. Fur., 65, 229 ff. Isaiah [liii. i], 349. Ismene, 178; in JB. Septem, go; in S. Antig., 137 ff. ; (E. Col., 168 ff. ISOCRATES, 36. Israel, 172 ; prophets of, and M. t 121. Jason, in E. Medea, 192 ff., 321. Hypsip., 304-5- NEOPHRON'S Medea, 22. JEBB, PROFESSOR SIR RICHARD, p. v, 160 n. ; on S. Ajax, 132 n., 136 n. ; Antigone, 136 n., 139, 141, 351 ; Electro, 141 n., 143 and n. ; (E. Col., 71, 167, 170 and n., 171, 172 n., 173 n., 182 n. ; Philoct., 165 n., 166 and n., 167 n. ; Track., 156 and n. ; Growth and Influence of Classical Greek Poetry, 318 n. Jocasta, 16, 46; in E. Phcen., 264 ff. ; in S. (E. Tyr., 146 ff. JOHN BRIGHT, 348. JONES, W. H. S., The Moral Standpoint of Euripides, 28 sq. Joseph, 172. Juliet's nurse, 124. Julius Csesar, in Sh., 134. Jupiter Tragcedus, see LUCIAN. Justice, see GALSWORTHY. Justice Shallow, 199. KEATS, 33. Kindly Ones, The, 111-7. King Lear, see SHAKESPEARE. KIPLING, 319. KIRK WHITE, 118 and n. Knights, see ARISTOPHANES. KYD, 121 ; Spanish Tragedy, 268. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 379 Lady Macbeth and Clytaemnestra, 104. Laertes, 297. LAHRTIUS, DIOGENES, see D.L. Laius, in S. CE. Tyr., 145 ff. Laius, see ^SCHYLUS. Lampros, 12. Laocoon, see SOPHOCLES. La Tentation de St. Antoine, see FLAU- BERT. Laws, see PLATO. Lear, King, 79, 136-7. Lear, King, see SHAKESPEARE. Lectures on Greek Poetry, see MACKAIL. Leda, 260, 263. Le jeu de V amour, etc., see MARIVAUX. Le probleme des Bacchantes, etc., see NIHARD. Libation- Bearers, see Choephorae, under JE. Liber Amatorius, see PLUTARCH. Libyans, see PHRVNICHUS. Lichas, in S. Trachinite, 154 ff. Life of Aristides, see PLUTARCH. Literature of Ancient Greece, see MURRAY. Lityerses, see SOSITHEUS. Locksley Hall, see TENNYSON. LONGFELLOW, 337 ; Hiawatha, 353. " LONGINUS," de Sublimitate [xv. 7. etc.], 174 and n., 251 n. Love in the Valley, see MEREDITH. Lovers of Achilles, see SOPHOCLES. Loxias, in E. Orestes, 270. LUCIAN, Adversus indoctos [15], 34 ; Jupiter Tragcedus [41], 306 n. ; Quomodo historia conscribenda [i], 298 and n. LUCRETIUS, 319. LYCOPHRON, 39, 40; Alexandra, 40; Menedemus, 39-40. Lycurgea, trilogy, 117, and see M. Lycurgus, k. of Edoni, 117. orator, 31, 81. theatre of, 57. Lycurgus (satyric), 117 and see fiL. Lycus, in E. Antiope, 298 ; H. Fur., 203 and n., 228 ff., 317. Lynceus, 85. Lynceus, see THEODECTES. LYSIAS, Eratosthenes [ii.j, 30 and n. Mab, Queen, in SH., R. and Juliet, 79. Macaria, in E. Heracleidce, 200 ff., 288, 317- Macbeth, see SHAKESPEARE. Macbeth, 273 ; Lady, 104. Macduffs, 73. MACKAIL, Lectures on Greek Poetry, 171 n., 184 n. Macrobius [V., xviii. 12], 304 n. Mad Heracles, 228-34. MAHAFFY, History of Greek Literature, Poets, 163 n. MANNING, F., Scenes and Portraits, 311 and n. MARIVAUX, Le jeu de I'amour et du hasard [II., ii.], 28 and n. Mark Antony, 134. MARLOWE, 121, 183, 185, 317, 328. MASSINGER and DEKKER, The Virgin Martyr, 137. MATTHAEI, Miss L. E., Studies in Greek Tragedy, 216 n. MATTHEW ARNOLD, see A. M. Mausolus, k. of Caria, 38. Mausolus, see THEODECTES. Measure for Measure, see SHAKESPEARE. Medea, in E. Medea, 8, 72, 159 n., 190, 192 ff., 218, 279, 313. apparition of, 65 ; chariot of, 312-3 ; sons of, 71. in NEOPHRON'S Medea, 22. Medea, see CARCINUS, EURIPIDES, and NEOPHRON. Megara, in Here. Fur., 228 ff. Meidias, Demosthenes' speech against, 82. MEINEKE, Fragmenta Comicorum Gracorum [ii. 1142], 19, 38 n. Melanippe, in E. Melan., 305 ff., 312. Melanipfe, etc., see EURIPIDES. Melanippus, 3 n. Meleager, in PHRYNICHUS Pleuronia, Memnon, in M., Weighing of Souls, 1 20. Memoirs, see ION. MENANDER, 29, 83, 289, 311. Menedemus the philosopher, 25. Menedemus, see LYCOPHRON. Menelaus, 254 ; in /E. Agam., 99 ; in E. Andromache, 219 ff., 225 ff., Helena, 258 n., 259 ff., 322; I. AuL, 285 ff. ; Orestes, 268 ff., 312, 323 ; Ttlephus, 295-6 ; Troades, 243 n. and 244 ; in S. Ajax, 132 ff. Menoeceus, in E. Phcenissa, 264 ff. Men of Eleusis, Men of Persia, see M. ; Men of Pherce, see MOSCHION. Menon, archonship of, 87. Merchant of Venice, see SHAKESPEARE. Mercutio, 79. MEREDITH, GEORGE, 287, 322 ; Love in the Valley, 33. Merope, in E. Cresphontes, 307 f. ; in S. CE. Tyr., 147. Merope, see ARNOLD. Merops, in E. Phaethon, 301 ff. Michelangelo, 102. Middlemarch, see ELIOT, GEORGE. 380 GREEK TRAGEDY MIDDLETON, Witch, g. Midsummer Night's Dream, see SHAKE- SPEARE. Miletus, Capture of, see PHRYNICHUS. MILTON and XL., 97, 122; and S. (E. Col. 171 ; Paradise Lost, 95. MIMNERMUS, 39 and n., ng. Minos, [321 A], 5 n. Mnesarchus, father of E., 17. Mnesilochus, in A. Thesmoph., 296. MOLIERE, 39 n. Molottus, in E. Androma., 219 ff., 225 ff. Moralia, see PLUTARCH. Moral Standpoint of Euripides, The, see JONES. Mornings in Florence, see RUSKIN. MOSCHION, 37, 38, 41, 315 ; Men of Pheree, 38 ; Telephus, 38 n. ; Themistodes, 38. Moses, 172. MULLER, K. O., On Lit., 163 n. MOLLER-HEITZ, Griechische Litter a- tiirgeschichte [ii. 88], 92 n. MURRAY, PROFESSOR GILBERT, p. v; Euripides and his Age, 276 n., 279 n., 280 n., 282 n., 283 n. ; Literature of Ancient Greece, 126 and n. ; on Cyclops, 289 n., 362 n. ; Helen, 263 n. ; Heracl., 201 n. ; Hippol., 210- n, 214; Iph. A. t 286 n. ; /. Taur., 247 n., 251 n. ; Medea, 198 n. ; Orestes, 268 n. ; Rhesus, 294 n. ; tr. of S. (E. Col., 185. Mustering of the Greeks (satyric), see SOPHOCLES. Myrmidons, see M. Myrtilus, 274. NAUCK, 301 n. i, 306 n. Nausicaa, see SOPHOCLES. Nazianzus, GREGORY of, 41. NEOPHRON, 21-2, 195-6; Medea, 21. Neoptolemus, in E. Andromache, 219 ff., 225 ff. Troades, 243. S. Eurypylus, 176 and n. Philoctetes, 120, 161 ff., 206, 334 n- Nereides, see JE. Nereus, 275 ; daughters of, 118. Nessus, in S. Trachin., 154 ff. NESTLE, DR. W., Euripides der Dichter der griech. Aufkldrung, 318 n., 324 n., 325- Nestor, 14. Nicias, 13, 60, 163. Nicias, sec PLUTARCH. Nicomachean Ethics, see ARISTOTLE. NIHARD, DR. R., Le Probleme des Bacchantes d'Euripide, 281 n. Niobe, in JE., 20. Niobe, see RL. " Noman," in E. Cyclops, 289-90. NORWOOD, PROFESSOR GILBERT, Riddle of the Bacchte, 191 n., 279 n., 281 n. Note sur le Promethee d'Eschyle, see WEIL. Oceanus, in JE. Prom. V., 65, 94. E. Phaethon, 303 and n. Odysseus, 319; in JE. Philoct., 120; in E. CycL, 2, 289 ff. ; Hecuba, 216 ; Philoct., 296; Rhesus, 291 ff. ; Telephus, 295-6 ; Troades, 243 ; in S. Ajax, 132 ff. ; Philoct., 161 ff., 178, 179, 334 n. Odyssey, see HOMER. CEdipus, 46, 72, 136; in E. Phcen., 264 ff. ; in S. (E. Col., 168 ff., 177, 185, 217 ; (E. Tyr., 145 ff., 177-8 ; sons of, 89. CEdipus, see AESCHYLUS, CARCINUS, and SOPHOCLES. Coloneus, see SOPHOCLES. Rex, see SOPHOCLES. Tyrannus, see SOPHOCLES. CEneus, see CH^RBMON. CEnomaus, 70. Olympian Odes, see PINDAR. Olynthiacs, see DEMOSTHENES. On the Sublime, see " LONGINUS ". Opheltes, in E. Hypsipyle, 304. Oration, see Dio CHRYSOSTOM. Orator, see CICERO. Oresteia, see AESCHYLUS. Orestes, 46, 63-4, 67, 76, 129-30,313; delirium of, 70 ; nurse of, 124 ; in JE. Agam., 100 ; Choeph., 73 n., 104, 107 ff., 126 ; Bum., in ff., 128, 130 n. ; E. Androma., 220 ff., 226 ; Electra, 252 ff. ; Iph. I., 73, 247 ff. ; Or., 268 ff-i 3 2 3J Telephus, 296; in POLYI- DUS Iph., 31 ; in S. Electra, 141 ff. Orgon, M., in MARIVAUX, 28 n. Origin of Tragedy, see RIDGEWAY. Orithyia, in S. Orith., 175. Orithyia, see SOPHOCLES. Orpheus, in K,. Bassarides, 117. Ortheris, Private, 319. Orthomenes, F. of Ion of Chios, 23. Othello, 136. Outis, in E. Cyclops, 289-90. OVID, 257. Palamedes, see EURIPIDES. PALEY, on E. Orestes, 276. Pallas, in E. H. Pur., 233 n. Panza, Sancho, 255. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 381 Paradise Lost, see MILTON. Paris, in E. Helena, 259 ; Iph. A., 285 ; Rhesus, 291 n. ff. Parthenopceus, see ASTYDAMAS. PATIN, Escliyle, 88 and n. Patroclus, in M. Myrmidons, and Nereids, 118. Patterne, Sir Willoughby, 287. Peace, see ARISTOPHANES. Peel, Sir Robert, 325. Pegasus, in E. Bellerophon, 297. Peleus in E. Andromache, 220 ff., 225 ff. ; Iph. A., 286. Peliades, see EURIPIDES. Pentheus, see EURIPIDES Baccha, 70, 73, 277 ff. Pentheus, see THESPIS. Pericles, 13, 116, 177, 270, 313. Pericles, see PLUTARCH. Per see, see M. Persephone, in CARCINUS, 35 ; in E. Helena, 260; Heracleida, 200; in Pirithous, 29. Perseus, in E. Andromeda, 298 ff. Persian counsellors, 7. Peruigilium Veneris, 333 n. Phasdra, 190, 205 ff., 218, 279, 317-8. Phasdrus, 52. Phaethon, in M. D. of Sun, 119. E. Phaethon, 300 ff. sisters of, in E. Hippol., 208. Phaethon, see EURIPIDES. PHERECRATES Cheiron, 72 and n. [Fragm. i.]. Pheres, in E. Alcestis, 186 ff. Phidias, 14. PHILEMON, 83. Philip of Macedon, 82, 163. PHILISCUS, 39, 40. Philoctetes, 62, 73 ; in M. Phil., 120 ; in S. Phil., 161 ff., 177-8, 181 ; in THEODECTES, 37. Philoctetes, see ACH^EUS, M., E., S., and THEODECTES. Philomela, in S. Tereus, 174. Phineus, in E. Andromeda, 299 ff. Phineus, see M. Phoebus, in E. Electra, 257-8 ; Ion, 242 ; Iph. I., 250. Phoenician Women, see EURIPIDES, and PHRYNICHUS. Phcenissce, see EURIPIDES, and PHRY- NICHUS. Phorbas, see THESPIS. Phrygians, see JE. PHRYNICHUS, comic poet, 14. general, 7 n. tragedian, 2, 6-10, 12, 15, 22, 78, 86, 90, 141, 315; in Frogs, 126; Alcestis, 6-7; Antceus, 6-7; Cap- ture of Miletus, 6-7, 38. Danaides or Daughters of Danaus, 6-7, Egyptians, 6-7 ; Libyans, 6-7 ; Phoenician Women or Phcenissce; 6-10, 38 ; Pleuronice or Pleuronian Women, 6-7 ; Tantalus, 6 ; Troi- lus, 7. PlCKARD-CAMBRIDGE, 53 n. PINDAR, 9, 24 ; his tropes, 123 ; Olym- pian Odes [xiii. 18 sq.], 3 and n. Pirithous, in Pirithous, 29. Pirithous, 18, 29; and see CRITIAS. Pisistratus, 50. PLATO, comic playwright, 78-9. PLATO, philosopher, 21, 34, 36, 128, 182-3 '. Laws [659 A-C, 700 C, 701 A], 60 n. ; Protagoras [315 E], 28 n. ; Republic [391 E], 119 and n. ; Symposium, 27, 29, 50 n., 55 and n. [175 E, 194 B, 197 D, 198 C, 223 D] ; [ ? Minos, 321 A], 5 n. PLAUTUS, Pcenulus, 23. Pleuronice or Pleuronian Women, see PHRYNICHUS. PLOTIUS, De Metris [p. 2633], 6 n. PLUTARCH, 323 ; Cimon [viii.j, 12 ; De Gloria Atheniensium [349 E], 31; De Profectu in Virtute [79 B, E] 15, 23 n. ; Liber Amatorius [756 B, C], 83 n. ; Life of Aristidts [III.], 91 and n. ; Moralia, [998 E, no D], 308 and n. ; Nicias [524 D], 60 n. ; Pericles [V], 24 and n. ; Symposiaca [615 A, 645 E], 2 n., 26 and n. Pluto, in Pirithous, 29. Pcenulus, see PLAUTUS. Poetic, see ARISTOTLE. POLLUX [iv. 126, 128], 63 n., 64, 66 and n., 67 n., 70. Pollux, in E. Electra, 253; Helena, 258 n., 259 ff. Polonius, 297. Polybus, in S. (E. Tyr., 147 ff. Polydeuces, see Pollux ; 252 n., etc. Polydorus, ghost of, in E. Hec., 215 ff. Polygnotus, 14^. POLYIDUS, 31-2 ; Iphigenia, 31. Polyidus, see EURIPIDES. Polymestor, in E. Hec., 215 ff. Polynices, 235 ; in M. Septem, 89 ff. ; in E. Phcen., 264 ff. ; in S. Antig., 137 ff. ; (E. Col., 168 ff. Polyphemus, in E. Cyclops, 289 ff. Polyphonies, in E. Cresphontes, 307 f. POLYPHRADMON, 6, 90. Polyphron, 38. Polyxena, in E. Hec., 216 ff. ; Troad., 243 ff. 382 GREEK TRAGEDY Polyxena, see SOPHOCLES. PORTER, W. H., The Euripidcan Rhesus in the light of recent criti- cism, 295 n. Poseidon, 85 ; in E. Hippol., 206 ; Ion, 242; Troad., 243 ff. ; Melanippe, 305 f- Possessed, The, see DOSTOEVSKY. POWELL, J. U., ed. of E. Phcenissa, 256 and n., 265 n. PRATINAS, 2, 6, 71 n., go. Praxiteles, 126. Praxithea, in E. Erechthens, 297. Priam, in M. A gam., 99 ; Phrygians, 118; in E. Hec., 215; in S. Eury- pyliis, 176. Priests, The, see THESPIS. Private Ortheris, 319. Procne, in S. Tereus, 174. Prodicus, 28. Professor, see Jebb, Murray, Norwood, Ridgeway, Roberts, Tucker, Wila- mowitz-Mollendorff. Prometheus, 62, 72, 76, 88; in M., I2i ; in Prom. V., 92 ff. trilogy, 114. Prometheus (sat.), see M. Bound, see JE. The Fire-Bringcr, see JE. Unbound, see JE. and SHELLEY. Protagoras, 17. Protagoras, see PLATO. Proteus, tomb of, in E. Helena, 259. Proteus, see /E. Ptolemy II., 39-40. PUCHSTEIN, 81 n. Pylades, 64; in M. Choeph., 73 n., 108-9; in E. El., 252 ff. ; Iph. T., 73, 247 ff. ; Orest., 268 ff. ; in S. El., 141 ff. PYTHON of Catana or Byzantium, 39. Queen Mab, in Sh. , Romeo and J., 79. Quomodo Historia Conscribenda, see LUCIAN. Raffaelle, 33, 102. Ransom of Hector, see M. and DIONY- sius. Relapse, The, see VANBRUGH. RENAN, 311. Republic, see PLATO. Rhesus in Rhesus, 291 ff. Rhesus, see EURIPIDES. Rhetoric, see ARISTOTLE. RHYS ROBERTS, PROFESSOR W., his tr. of De Sublimitate, 24 n. Richard III, see SHAKESPEARE. Riddle of the Baccha, see NORWOOD. RIDGEWAY, PROFESSOR SIR WM., The Origin of Tragedy, 2-3, 64 n. ROBERTS, RHYS, see RHYS R. Robespierre, 30. RUPERT BROOKS, 358. RUSKIN, Mornings in Florence [I. 14], 299 and n. Russell, Lord John, 325. S. PAUL [i Cor. xv. 33], 309. ST. JOHN HANKIN, 28. SALTER, W. H., Essays on Two Moderns, 281 n. Samuel, 172, 237. Sancho Panza, 255. SAPPHO, 8, Saranoff, Sergius, 288. SATYRUS, Life of Euripides, 18, 29 n. SCALIGER, on Rhesus, 294. Scenes and Portraits, see MANNING. Scephrus, 3 n. SCHILLER, Don Carlos [III. 10], 324 n. SCHMIDT, DR. J. H. H., 334 n., 346 n. (Die Eurhythmie in den Chorge- sdngen der Griechen, [p. 89, etc.]), 353 n. (Introduction, etc.), 358 n., 345, 362 n., 354. Scholar -Gipsy, see ARNOLD. SEDLEY, 360. Semele, in E. Bacchce, 277 ff. ; Hippol., 212. SENECA, 44, 272. Septem, see M. Sergius Saranoff, 288. Seven against Thebes, see M. SHAKESPEARE, 9, 14, 29 n., 79, 104, 183, 219, 282, 325, and SHAW, 121 ; As You, 63 ; Hamlet, 152 n., 183 ; Henry V [iv. 8], 88 and n. ; // Henry VI [iii. i], 66 ; John, 234 ; jful. C., 134; Lear, 16, 171-2, 183 [iij. 4] ; Macbeth, 9, 16, 42, 70, 317 ; M. for M., 41 ; Mcht. V., 72-4 n. ; M. N. Dr. [ii. i], 355 ; Much Ado, 199; Rd. Ill, 282; R. and y., 79, 124 ; Sonnets, 174 ; Tp., [v. i], 354 ; Titus A. [ii. I. 5-7], 121 and n. Justice Shallow, 199. SHAW, BERNARD, 39 n. ; Doctor's Dilemma, 236 n. ; 320-1 (and E.). Sergius Saranoff in, 288; and SH., 121. SHELLEY, Prom. Unbd., 95. Silenus, 69 ; in E. Cyclops, 289 ff. ; in S. Ichneutce, 175. SIMONIDES, 9-10. SIR H. RIDER HAGGARD, 248. Sir Willoughby Patterne, in MERE- DITH'S Egoist, 287. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 383 Sisyphus, in AGATHON, 27. Sisyphus, of CRITIAS, 29-30 ; and see EURIPIDES. Socrates, 17, 28 and n., 29 n., 50 n., 65, 67, 163 n., 318. Sonnets, see SHAKESPEARE. Sophillus, f. of SOPHOCLES. SOPHOCLES, v, vi, 4, 10, 12 ff., 17-20, 22-4, 26, 31, 37, 59, 60, 74, 77, 91-2, 95, 122, 132 ff., 186, 192, 195-6, 208-9, 223-4, 226 n., 275, 276 n., 281, 293, 295-6, 312, 333. as actor and citharist, or harpist, 7 1 , 173-4- Attic spirit of, 182 ; criticism of other dramatists, 160 n. dramatic irony in, 179-80. influenced by E., in Track., 159-60. influence on M., 126 ; introduced crepis, 68 ; invented scene-paint- ing. 52; Jebb's ed. of, v; metre of, 180, 331 n., 334. mind and art of, 177 ff. ; plots, 179 ; religion, 177; technical innova- tions, 15. Ajax, 42 n., 55n.,63, 71, 119, 132-6, 138, 155. 158-9, 184 [11. 520-1, 559, 646, 650-3, 815 sqq.]. Amphiaraus (satyric play), 174. Antigone, 8 n., 15, 132, 136-41, 184, 266, 349 [11. 95, 175-90, 450-7, 582 sqq., 782, 904-12, 1195, 1329- 30]. Detectives (satyric), 175-6. Dinner-Party (satyric), 174. Electra, 63, 141-5, 152, 160 n., 171 n., 253 [11. 147-9, 303-16, 328 sqq., 415, 582 sqq., 616-21, 957, 974, 1080, 1165 sq., 1288 sqq., 1331-3, 1424-5, 1508 sqq.]. Eurypylus, 176. Ichneutce, 2, 175-6. Laocoon, 174. Lovers of Achilles, 174. Mustering of the Greeks (satyric), 174. Nausicaa, 12, 174. CEdipus, 24. CEdipus at Colonus, CEdipus Coloneus, 13, 14 and n., 16, 71 n., 160 n., 167-73, 174, 185, 267 [11. 62 sq., 106, 258-91, 443, 472, 506, 569, 607 sqq., 620, 670-80, 854-5, 960-1013, 964-5, 1047 sq., 1055, 1082, 1116, 1127, 1148-9, 1152, 1225-8, 1422-5, 1503 sq., 1563 sq., 1582 sqq., 1615 sqq., 1627 sq., 1682, 1697. CEdipus Rex, the King, or Tyrannus, 13 n., 16, 35, 37, 79, 96, 145-54, 157, 169, 173, 179, 183, 266, 268, n. 331 n. (Aristotle's remarks on CE. Tyr., 46-8, 148) [11. i, 29, 124- 5, 130-1, 151, 436, 483 sq., 587- 8, 738, 758-64, 774 *??, 942, 959, 1026, 1028, 1038, 1117-8, 1141, 1313, 1524-5]. SOPHOCLES, Orithyia, 175. Philoctetes, 16, 46, 76, 120, 145, 161-7, X 79 > Deus ex. m. in, 315 ; metre of, 181, 334 n., 337 [11. 187-90, 268, 282-4, 287-92, 385 sqq., 456 sqq., 670, 926 sqq., 981 sq., 1007-15, 1035 sqq., 1047-51, 1095 sqq., 1222 sqq., 1299 sqq. , 1402, 1455]. Polyxena, 174. Tereus, 174. Thamyras, 71. Trachinice, 154-60, 164, 195 [11. 9-14, 248-86, 268, 416, 427, 547- 9, 575-7, 719 *? 900-22, 927 sq., 1140. Triptolemus, 173. Women Washing, 174. Fragmenta Adespota [344, 345], 173-5- SOSIPHANES, 40-41. SOSITHEUS, 39-40 ; Daphnis (satyric), 40 ; Lityerses (satyric), 40. Spanish Tragedy, see KYD. Sphinx, see M. STESICHORUS, 262 n. STEVENSON, R. L., 320. Stheneboea, in .,318. Stobaeus, 37 [102-3], 39 n., 323. Stockman, Dr., in IBSEN, 317. STRABO [I. 33], 301 and n. Studies in Greek Tragedy, see MATTHAEI. the Greek Poets, see SYMONDS. SUIDAS, 5, 15 n., 21 n., 22, 23, 25 n. Suppliant Women, or Supplices, see M. and E. SWIFT, 248. SWINBURNE, 174 ; Erechtheus, 297. SYMONDS, J. A., Studies in the Greek Poets [II. 26], 33 n. Symposiaca, see PLUTARCH. Symposium, see PLATO. Talking Oak, see TENNYSON. Talthybius, in E. Hec., 216; Troad., 243 ff. Tannhauser, 283. Tantalus, see PHRYNICHUS. TCHEKOV, Cherry Orchard, 319. Tauric Iphigenia, see EURIPIDES, 73. Tecmessa, in S. Ajax, 132 ff., 159. 384 GREEK TRAGEDY Tclephus, in E. Tel., 295-6. Telephus, sec EURIPIDES, and MOSCHION. Tempest, see SHAKESPEARE. Teniers, 124. TENNYSON, Talking Oak, 355 ; Locksley Hall, 335, 339. TERENCE, 28, 36. Tereus, in S. Ter., 174. Tereus, see SOPHOCLES. Tess of the D'Urbervilles, see THOMAS HARDY. Teucer, in E. Helena, 258 n., 259 ff. ; in S. Ajax, 132 ff., 158. Thamyras, see SOPHOCLES. Thanatos, in E. Alcestis, 187 ff. Themistocles, 7, 88-g, 128 n. Themistocles, see MOSCHION. Theoclymenus, in E. Helena, 258 ff., 314 n. THEOCRITUS, 40. THEODECTES of Phaselis, 36-8 ; Lynceus, 37 ; Mausolus, 38. Theodorus the actor, 35. Theonoe, in E. Helena, 258 n., 259 ff. Theseus, in E. Here. Fur., 228 ff. ; Hippol., 205 ff. ; Suppl., 234 ff. ; in S. (E. Col., 168 ff. ; 178, 185 ; in Pirithous, 29. Thesmophoriazusee, see ARISTOPHANES. THESPIS, 2, 4-5 (his waggon, 50), 56, 58, 68 ; his supposed fragments, 5 ; Pentheus, Phorbas, Priests, Trials of Pelias, Youths, 5. The Theory of Beauty, see CARRITT. Thetis, 65, in M. Nereids, 118; W. of Souls, 120 ; in E. Andromache, 220 ff. ; iph. A., 286. Thoas, in E. Hypsip., 304; Iph. T., 247 ff. THOMAS HARDY and E., 325 ; Tess of the D'U., 325-6. Thorvald Helmer, in IBSEN'S A Doll's House, 189. Thracian Women, see JE. THUCYDIDES, 14, 182-3; 3 2 5 n - [HI- 82-3]. Thyestes, 257. Thyestes, see CARCINUS, and CH.T.RE- MON. 57. Timotheus, 18, 72. Tiresias, in E. Baccha, 277 ff. ; Phcen., 264 ff. ; in S. Antig., 137 ff. ; (E. Tyr., 146 ff. Titans, 93 ff. (Oceanus, 94 ; Prometheus, 93 ff.)- Titus Andronicus, see SHAKESPBARK. Trachinia, see SOPHOCLES. Tragic Drama, etc., see HAIGH. Trials of Pelias, see THESPIS. Triptolemus, in CHCERILUS' A lope ; in S. Tript., 173. Triptolemus, see SOPHOCLES. Troades, see EURIPIDES. Troilus, see PHRYNICHUS. Trojan Women, see EURIPIDES. Trygaeus in A. Peace, 297. TUCKER, PROFESSOR, tr. of JE. Suppl., 86 and n. Tyndareus, in E. Or., 268 ff. Typhos, 232. VALCKENAER, on Rhesus, 294 n. VANBRUGH, Relapse [V. iv. 135], 105 and n. Vanity Fair, 319. Varia Historia, see JELIAN. Veiled Hippolytus, see EURIPIDES. Venus of Melos, 182. VERGIL, 20, 174; JEneid, 174 n. [I. 203]. VERRALL, DR. A. W., on JE. Agam., 100 and n., ff., 122 and n., 126 ; Choeph., 143 and n., 258 n. ; Eitm., 115 n. 116 n., 130 n. ; Septem, 91 and n. ; on E. Ale., 188 n., 190 ff. ; Androma., 222-3; Bac., 281 n. ; Hel., 263 ; H. Fur., 230 ff. ; Ion, 239-40 ; Med., 195-7 ! Or., 273 n. ; his Dramatic Criticism, p. v ; Bacchcz of E. and other Essays, 8 n. ; E. in a Hymn, 250 n. ; E.'s Apology, 262 ; E. the Rationalist, 130 n., 190 and n., 250 n., 265 n. ; Four Plays of E., 196 n., 222-3 J 228 and n. ; 262 n. Virgin Martyr, see DEKKER and MAS- SINGER. VITRUVIUS, 53 ff., 58-9, 63 n. [V. vi., vii. 3-4], VOLTAIRE, 248, 257. WALPOLE, HORACE, 311. Wasps, see ARISTOPHANES. Weighing of Souls, see JE. WEIL, H., Note sur le Promithee d'Eschyle, 93 n. WELCKER, 175 n. Werle, Gregers, 317. WHITE, PROFESSOR J. W., 345 n. WIESELER, 54 n. WlLAMOWITZ - MOELLENDORFF, PRO- FESSOR U. von, p. v, 29 n., 42 n., 247 n., 282, 294 n., Einleitung in die griechische Tragodie, 42 n. Witch, see MIDDLETON. Women of Crete, see EURIP. ; of Etna, see JE. ; of the Fatenskin, see JE. III. PERSONS AND WORKS 385 Women of Trachis, see Trachiniez and SOPHOCLES ; Women Washing, see SOPHOCLES. WORDSWORTH, 127, 172, 308. XENOCLES, 243. XENOPHON, Hellenica [VI. iv. 33-4], 38 n. Xerxes, 76, 228 ff. ; in M. Persa, 87-9, 356- Xuthus, in E. Ion, 236 ff. Youths, see M., and THESPIS. Zenocrate, in Tamburlaine, 328. Zethus, in . Antiope, 298. Zeus, 176, 277, 284. Cretan, 310. in M., 84 ff., 127 ff., 213; in Bum., 112 ff. ; in W. Souls, 120 ; in E. Andromeda, 300; Antiope, 298; Bellero., 297 ; Helena, 260, 322 ; Heracleida, 201; H. Fur., 229 ff. ; Hippol., 208, 212 ; Ion, 242 ; Melan., 306; Troad., 246. temple of, at Marathon, in E. Hera- cleida, zoo. IV. METRE ACCELERATED Spondee, 343 n. Accentual Dactyl, 356. Iambi, 328. Anaclasis, 356. Anacrusis, 334 n., 342, etc. Anapaesis used by chorus, 337. in recitative, 74. Anapaest, ^ ^ -, 290 n., 331, 338, etc. Anapaestic metre, 337-8. system, 337. Antistrophe, 78, 344 if. Antithetic-mesodic periods, 361-2. Antithetic periods, 360. Asclepiad, greater, 8. BACCHIAC, ^, 355. Blank verse, 328. CAESURA, 332-3, 336. Catalectic verse, 337, 339 ; catalectic foot, 334. in anapaestic systems, 338. Catalexis, 335, 337, 353-4, 359. Choree, 352-3. Choriambics, -<<--, 357- Cola, three types of, 351. Colon, 343 ff. definition of, 347. Counter-turn, 344. Cretic, - ^ -, 354. - Final, 290 n., 333-4. in English, 355. Cyclic Dactyls, 341. DACTYL, - ^, w , 331, etc., 340. Dactylic dipody, 356. hexameter, 339. Dactyls, cyclic, 341. Definition of a colon, 347. ictus, 347-8. metre, 327. poetry, 327. rhythm, 327. Diaeresis, 336-7. Dialogue-metre, 74, 334 ff., 353. Dipody, 338, 351-2. Dochmiacs, 355, 358. Dochmius, 358. ELISION, 329, etc., 344 n. Emotional significance of metre, 353 ff. Episodic trochaics, 338, 353. Epode, 78, 345. Equal cola, 351. FINAL Cretic, 290 n., 333-4. Foot-ictus, 342. GREATER asclepiad, 8. HEXAMETER, Dactylic, 339. Hexapody, 351-2. Hiatus, 329-30. Homeric metre, 339. IAMBIC metre, 4, 327, 330 ff. senarius, 340. Iambus, w -, 74, 327 ff., 330, etc. Ictus, 342, 347. definition of, 347. Insetting, 342. Ionic, \s \j, 356. lonicus a maiore, 356. minore, \j <^> , 356. Irrational syllabus, 343 n., 347, 351, 362. LICENCES, 331, 335. Logaoedic systems, 341. Long syllables, 328. Lyrics, v., vi., 2, 338 ff. MESODE, 344, 361. Mesodic periods, 361-2. Metre, vi, 327 ff. definition of, 327. in comedy, 334. of S. Philoctetes, 181: 315, 334- Molossus, , 354. Music, Greek, 339, etc. of E. Orestes, OCTONARIUS, 335. trochaic, 339. PALiNODic-antithetic periods, 361. mesodic periods, 361-2. 386 IV. METRE 387 pALiNooic-niesodic periods, 361-2. periods, 360. Parcemiacs, 338 and n. Pentapody, 351. Period, 343, 359 ff. Pitch-accent, 327 n. Poetry, definition of, 327. Postlude, 344, 362. Prelude, 342, 344, 362. Prodelision, 329. QUANTITY, 327 ff. Quasi-anapaests, 354. Quasi-trochees, 341. Quinquepartite cola, 351. RECITATIVE, 337. Resolved feet, 330, 334, 336, 342 n., 353,355.358. Rhythm, p. vi, 327 ff. definition of, 327. in Philoctetes, 181. Rules of Quantity, 328-9. SCANSION, 327 ff. ; of lyrics, v, vi, 338 ff. Scheme of iambic verse, 334. trochaic tetrameters, 337. Senarius, iambic, 340. Sentence, 343, etc. Spondaic words lacking in English, 354- Spondee, - -, 181, 330, etc., 341, 353. Stichic period, 359-60. mesodic period, 361. Stress-accent, 327, 342, 347. " Striking-up," 342 n. Strophe, 78, 344 ff. Synapheia, 330. Syncopated rhythm, 341. Synizesis, 332. TETRAMETER, Trochaic, 334 ff. Tetrapody, 337, 35 r -2. Tribrach, ^ ^ ^, 181, 331, 335. Tripody, 351-2. Trochaic tetrameter, 4, 334 ff, octonarius, 339. Trochee, - w , 334 ff - 352. Turn, 344. Types of cola, 351. period, 359 ff. UNEQUAL cola, 351. VERSE in lyrics, 346. Virgilian metre, 339. Voice-stress, 328. WORD-ICTUS, 348. LINES QUOTED IN CHAPTER VI. ^SCHYLUS : Agam., 2, 160 sqq. t 975 sqq., 988 sqq., 1530 sqq. Eumen., 788 sq. Persce, 81 sq., 126 sq. Prom. V., 12, 15, 115, 4 r 5, 420. SuppL, 418 sqq., 582 sqq., 656. EURIPIDES : Alcestts, 29, 32, 34, 37, 179. Androma., 241, 260, 804. Bacchce, 12, 64 sqq., 703. Cyclops, 361 sqq. Hecuba, 629 sqq.; Here. Fur., 76, 857. EURIPIDES : Ion, 125-7, 3 J 3, 548 ; /. AuL, 320, 882 ; /. T., 123-5, 1232. Medea, i, 635 ; Orest., 310, 367, 502, 740, 756, 797, 872, 892, 894. Phcen., 114 sqq., 590 sq., 609, 612 ; Troades, 710, 738. SOPHOCLES : Ajax, 646, 652 ; Antigone, 95, 582 sqq., 1339 sq. Electra, 147-9; (E. Col., 1047-8, 1055, 1082. (E. Tyr., i, 29, 151, 483-4, 738, Philoct., 895 sqq., 1095 S 1<1"> sqq., 1402. V. GENERAL ACTOR, i. Hegelochus, 74. Sophocles, 13. Theodorus, 35. Actors, 4, 15, 72-5. Actors' Guild, 75. in Roman times, 59. privileges of, 75. travelling companies of, 49. under J., 11-12. Admission to theatre, 81. Agnosticism of E., 318. Alexandrian Pleiad, 2, 39-41. Allusions to landscape, 63. contemporary events, 7-9, Altar in orchestra, 50. of Dionysus, 51. Ambassadors' seats, 81. Amphictyonic council, 75. Anapiesma, 64. Apparition of gods, etc., 65. of Dioscuri in E. El., 65 ; of Iris and Frenzy in H. Fur., 233 ; of Medea, 65 ; of Pallas in H. Fur., 233 n. Architecton, 82. Architectural remains, evidence of, in stage controversy, 57-8. Archon and dramatic judges, 12. Basileus, 60. Eponymus, 60. Archonship of Menon, 87. Archons' seats, 81. Areopagite Court in Eumenides, 70, 112 ff., 317. Argives in M. Agam., 79; Suppl., 84; in E. El., 252 ff. ; Or., 269 ff. in E. Phaen., 264 ff. ; in S. Antig., 137 ff. Argo the ship, in E. Hypsip., 305. Argument of E. Hippol., 215 n. ; Medea, 22 n. ; of M. Persa, 8 n. against a stage, 56 ff. ; for a stage, 53 ff- of plays, whence taken, 62. Arrangement of JE. Agam., 99 n. ; Choeph., 106 n. ; Bum., in n. ; Pers., 86 n. ; P. V., 92; Sepiem, 89 n. ; Suppl., 84 n. of E., Ale., 186 n. ; Bac., 277 n. ; ycl., 289 n. ; El., 252 n. ; Hel., 258 n. ; Heracleida, 200 n. ; H. Fur., 228 n. ; Hippol., 205 n. ; Ion, 236 n. ; /. A., 285 n. ; /. T., 247 n. ; Or., 268 n. ; Phcen., 264 n. ; Rhes., 291 n. ; Suppl., 234 n. ; Troad., 243 n. of S. Aj., 132 n. ; Ant., 136 n. ; El., 141 n. ; (E. C., 167 n. ; (E. T., 145 n. ; Philoct., 161 n. ; Track., 154 n. Artists of Dionysus, 75. ? Ascent from orchestra to stage, 55. Assyrian sculpture, 126. At, 129, 198. Athenian art, 182-3. cynicism, 325. ecclesia, 270. empire, 14, 128 n., 325. Atridean house, 127, 129. Attic festivals, 49. hero Triptolemus, 6. spirit of S., 182. townships, 49. Audience, 80. Audiences, size of, 50. Auditorium, 51. Authorship of Rhesus, 293-5. BACCHANTE, 237 ; Bacchantes in JE. Bassarids, 117. Basileus, Archon, 60. Beacon-speech in ^E. Agam., 124. Beauty and Truth in E., 326. Belletrist, Ion a, 24. Benefactors' seats, 81. Bent staff of actors, 16. Bible and S. J92, 289 ff-> etc. Satyrs, i ; chorus of, in Cycl., 289 ff. Scsenici, 53. Scene, 52, 59. Scene-painting, 4, 15, 16, 62. Scenery, 62 ff. Scholia : on JE. Choeph. [900], 73 n. ; Pers., 87 ; Prom. V. [128], 57 ; on Aristoph., 22 n. ; Frogs [303], 74 n. ; Frogs [53], 304 n. ; Wasps [1342], 57 ; on Eurip., 21 ; Phan., 265 ; Rhes. [528], 294 and n. Scolia, 23. Sculpture of Assyria, Egypt, Greece, Praxiteles, 125-6. Sea-Nymphs, in JE. P. V., 94. Seating accommodation in theatre, Athens, 50 and n. Seats in theatre, 80 ff. Selection of dramatic judges, 61. Semi-choruses, 78. Sentinels, chorus of, in Rhesus, 291 ff. Servant, in E. Ion, 236 ff. Seven against Thebes, in E. Suppl., 234 ff. Shepherd, in E. El., 253. Shrine of Thetis, in E. Androma., 219 ff. Sicilian expedition, 244, 252 n. ' Side-wings, 51, 54. Sikinnis dance, 80. Simplicity of Athenian art, 183 ; of JE.'s dramatic structure, 126. JE.'s language, 122. Sin, as material defilement, in IE., 130 n. in Euripides, 318 ff. Slave in Iph. A., 322. Socratic novices in A. Clouds, 68. Solo by Phrygian slave in E. Or., 72. Songs of Phrynichus, 8. Sophistry in E., 317. (" Spartam nactus es, hanc exorna"), 295- Spartans, 201 n., 204. " Speaking-place," 53 ; " for gods," 65. Sphinx, 265, 267-8 n.; in S. (E. 2>r., 894 GREEK TRAGEDY Stage, 52 ff. Stage-buildings, 50 ff. -direction in S. Ichn,, 175 n. -machinery, 64 ff. -properties, 64 used after 300 B.C., 53. Stasima, 77 ; -on, Ar.'s definition of, 47. Statues in Greek plays, 62. of playwrights, 31. Stewards in theatre, 82. Stropheion, 64. Structure, dramatic, v, vi, etc. " Study-plays " of Diogenes and Crates, 37. Sun-god, in E. Medea, 195 ; Phaethon, 3i-3- Supervision of dramatic displays, 60 ff. Suttee, in E. Suppl., 235. TABLE in orchestra, 50. Table, sacrificial, i, 4. Tableaux in Greek theatre, 66. Taurians in E. I ph. T., 247 ff. Technical changes made by IE., n ; by S., 15-6. Temple of Athena, in Eunien., 63. Tent, 52 (of Agamemnon). Tetralogy, 15, 17, 24, 50, 61, 87. Theatre, 80 ff. at Athens, remains of, 59 n. buildings, 50 ff. Graeco-Roman type, in Asia Minor, 59 n. its parts and construction, 50 ff. not roofed, 50. of Dionysus, Athens, 49, 56. Lycurgus, 57. ticket, 82. Thebans, chorus of, in E. H. Fur., 228 ff. Theologeion, 64-5. Theoric fund, 82. Thesalian, in E. Andromache, 226-7. Thesmophoria, festival, 262. Third actor, 16. Thirty tyrants, 29-30. Thought in tragedy, ace. to Aristotle, 44- Thracian Edoni, 117. Thracians in E. Erech., 297 ; Rhes., 291 ff. " Three Unities," 42 n. Thunder-machine, 64. Thymele, 57 ; -melici, 53. Times of dramatic performances, 50. " To give a chorus," 60. Tomb of Achilles, in Hec., 216; of Agamemnon, in IE. Choeph., 106 ; in E. El., 253 ; of Clytaemnestra, in E. Or., 269 ; of Proteus, in E. Hel., 259 ; importance of tombs ace. to Prof. Ridgeway, 3, 64 and n. " To receive a chorus," 60. Torturing of slaves, in drama, 21. Tradition, evidence of, in stage contro- versy, 57. Tragedy, origin of, i ff. Tragic contest, begun by Pisistratus, 50. diction, created by JE., 122. incident in tragedy, ace. to Aristotle, 45- Tragicomedy in E., 19. Trainers of actors and choruses, 60. Travelling companies of actors, 49. Treasury Board, 13. Trilogy, 16. Tripod, prize for dithyramb, 62. Tritagonist, 72. Troezenian women, chorus of, in E. Hippol., 205 ff. Trojans, in E. Philoct., 297; Rhesus, 291 ff. women, chorus of, in E. Troades, 243 rT. Two actors only, in certain plays, 12 and n. Tyrants, thirty, 29. UNITIES, three, 42 n. Unity of Place, 42 n. ; violated in M. Bum., and in S. Aj., 42 n. Unravelling in drama, Ar.'s definition of, 47. VASE-PAINTINGS, 41. Verse-translations of Professor Murray, v, 185, 211, 214, 280. Versions of E. Medea, 22 and n., 195-6 ; of Hippol., 213-5. Vitruvian stage, 53 ff. Vote of Athena, in IE.. Eumen., 112 and n. WAGGON of Thespis, 5, 50. Was there a stage in the Greek theatre ? 52 ff. ever a fourth actor ? 71. Watchmen in JE. Agam., 64, 124. What does Aristotle think of Peripeteia ? 48. White shoes of actors, 16. Wine-lees, faces of Thespis' actors smeared with, 5, 68. " Wine-Press Festival," 49, see Lenaea. Wit in E. Orestes, 323 ; in E. generally, 3**-3- Wooden horse, 243. Wrestling in Phrynichus' Antaus, 7 and n. PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, ABERDEEN JEBffifi* REGIONAL LIBRARY FAOLIT A 000677142 2