Fig. 4.—Preparations for a Satyric Drama from a Naples Crater of About 400B.C.See p. 25, n. 1
Fig. 4.—Preparations for a Satyric Drama from a Naples Crater of About 400B.C.
See p. 25, n. 1
Of the vases which may certainly be regarded as representing scenes from satyric drama the best known and most pretentious is a crater in Naples (Fig. 4).[62]This and a crater at Deepdene were painted about 400B.C.Somewhat earlier are another crater at Deepdene, a dinos at Athens (Figs.5and6), and fragments of two dinoi at Bonn (Fig. 7).[63]The last three are derivedfrom the same original. On the Naples crater preparations for a satyr-play are being made in the presence of Dionysus and Ariadne, who are seen in an affectionate embrace in the center of the top row. The names of the figures are made known by inscriptions in most cases but are not always significant. Just beyond Ariadne, Love (Ἵμερος) hovers above an uninscribed actor in women’s costume, whose mask is provided with a Scythian cap. The next figure is Heracles (inscribed) and the next is thought to be Silenus. Beyond Dionysus is an uninscribed actor in royal costume. Except Love, all these figures carry masks and constitute the histrionic personages in the drama. It has been claimed with great plausibility that the play dealt with Heracles’ exploits at Troy.[64]In that case the king is Laomedon and the maiden is Hesione, his daughter, who was rescued from the sea monster by Heracles. To the right of the dancing choreutes in the lower row is the flute-player (Pronomus), who will furnish the accompaniment for the lyrical portions of the play; to the left is Demetrius with a roll in his hand, probably the poet. The remaining twelve figures are probably choreutae and bear more directly upon our present investigation. Most of them carry masks, and they have human feet and no horns. They resemble sileni in having long equine tails. The sole resemblance to satyrs is found in the fact that nine of them wear a shaggy covering about the loins, supposedly a goatskin. The waistband upon the choreutes in the extreme upper left-hand corner, however, resembles cloth trunks more than a skin. Yet this divergence is probably to be explained as due to carelessness or a whim on the part of the draftsman instead of to an essential difference in material. This appears plainly from astudy of the other vases in this series, on which the loin-bands resemble the trunks of the last-mentioned choreutes on the Naples crater rather than the skins of his nine companions. None the less, a multitude of short dashes on the waistbands in one of the Bonn dinoi (Fig. 7) is plainly intended to characterize them as skins, and the bands on the Deepdene craters are “patterned in such a way as to suggest a fringed or shaggy edge.” An illuminating side light upon the freedom which the painter exercised is afforded by a comparison of the left-hand choreutae in Figs.6and7. These are identical figures in different copies of the same original; yet the shagginess of the loin-band is clearly indicated in the one and entirely omitted in the other. Moreover, the choreutes on the other dinos at Bonn seems to wear no waistband at all![65]In conclusion, it will be observed that, except for variations in the representation of the conventionalized goatskin, the choreutae upon all these vases are exactly alike:[66]they all have human feet, no horns, and equine tails. It is evident that by 400B.C.or a little earlier this type had become standardized for theatrical purposes. That it suffered no material modification thereafter appears from a Pompeian mosaic (Fig. 8).[67]
Fig. 8.—Poet and Choreutae of a Satyric Drama from a Pompeian MosaicSee p. 27, n. 3
Fig. 8.—Poet and Choreutae of a Satyric Drama from a Pompeian Mosaic
See p. 27, n. 3
It is plain that this was the type of satyr which the unknown source of the notice inEtymologicum Magnumhad in mind when attempting to explain the etymology of τραγῳδία: “... or because the choruses generally consisted of satyrs whom they called ‘goats’ in jest eitheron account of the shagginess of their bodiesor on account of their lasciviousness, for the animal is of such a sort; or because the choreutae plaited their hair, imitatingthe form of goats.”[68]This passage has been used to support the canonical doctrine that tragedy was the child of satyric drama (seepp. 2and22 f., above), but is far from adequate for that purpose. The words after δασύτητα (“shagginess”) are often ignored or even omitted. But it is necessary to interpret the final phrase, “imitating the form of goats,” in terms of the details stated in the context. So far as we are now concerned, the only point of resemblance mentioned is their “shagginess.” This and Horace’s expression about the tragic poet “strippinghis satyrs” for the satyr-play[69]would be entirely suitable in describing the choreutae on the Naples crater. Furthermore, it will be noted that this explanation occurs only in a late Byzantine notice and that no earlier source is mentioned. The only way in which a respectable antiquity can be claimed, by means of literary evidence, for this interpretation consists in maintaining that it is implicit in Aristotle’s phrase ἐκ σατυρικοῦ μετέβαλεν. But we have already seen (seep. 22, above), that this expression need not, and probably does not, support this view. The only other passage which can be cited in this connection occurs in three other Byzantine writers.[70]The conclusion is irresistible that both the goat-men explanation of the word τραγῳδία and the supposed development of tragedy from satyric drama are due to “reconstructions” of literary history at an extremely late period.
Fig. 3.—Caprine Sileni upon the François Vase, 600-550B.C.See p. 24, n. 1
Fig. 3.—Caprine Sileni upon the François Vase, 600-550B.C.
See p. 24, n. 1
Fig. 5.—View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in AthensSee p. 25, n. 2
Fig. 5.—View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Athens
See p. 25, n. 2
Fig. 6.—View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in AthensSee p. 25, n. 2
Fig. 6.—View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Athens
See p. 25, n. 2
Fig. 7.—Views of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in BonnSee p. 25, n. 2
Fig. 7.—Views of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Bonn
See p. 25, n. 2
Evidently this standard type of theatrical satyr took its genesis from an amalgamation of the caprine satyrs and the equine sileni. It is significant that in Euripides’Cyclopsand Sophocles’TrackersSilenus is one of the characters andis the father of the chorus. These satyr-plays were brought out in the vicinity of 440B.C.[71]The question now arises: Was this conventional type the invention of Pratinas or did it develop later? It will be remembered that in the list of fifteen fifth-century vases from Attica on which representations of goat-men occur (seep. 25, above), one was mentioned as having a possible connectionwith the theater. The single exception is a crater in the British Museum of about 450B.C.(Fig. 9).[72]The larger design on the same side of the vase represents the decking of Pandora, and it is commonly thought that the two scenes belong together and are derived from a satyr-play dealing with Pandora. However that may be, the presence of a flute-player would seem to indicate that at leastFig. 9is theatrical. If so, the choreutae are not of the type which we have been studying, but true satyrs with caprine hoofs, horns, and tails.[73]About their loins they wear trunks, which in three cases are painted black (to represent a goatskin?) but in one case are left unpainted. Now from Aeschylus’ satyric drama entitledPrometheus the Fire-Kindleris preserved a line “O goat, you will mourn (lose) your beard,” which was addressed by Prometheus to a satyr who wished to kiss a flame and which has been used as proof that the choreutae were caprine in appearance.[74]Again, in Sophocles’Trackersoccur the words: “For though you are young with a flourishingbeard, you revel as a goat in the thistles.”[75]Finally, in Euripides’Cyclopsthe chorus speak of wandering about “with this poor goatskin cloak.”[76]Although these passages do not constitute proof that the dramatic satyrs were of caprine appearance, they gain considerably in point if we may suppose that they were, and to that extent they confirm the evidence of the British Museum crater.
Fig. 9.—Satyrs on a British Museum Crater of About 450B.C.See p. 30, n. 1
Fig. 9.—Satyrs on a British Museum Crater of About 450B.C.
See p. 30, n. 1
Fig. 10A BRITISH MUSEUM PSYKTER BY DURIS OF ABOUT 480B.C., PROBABLY SHOWING INFLUENCE OF CONTEMPORANEOUS SATYRIC DRAMASee p. 31, n. 3
Fig. 10
A BRITISH MUSEUM PSYKTER BY DURIS OF ABOUT 480B.C., PROBABLY SHOWING INFLUENCE OF CONTEMPORANEOUS SATYRIC DRAMA
See p. 31, n. 3
Such, then, is the penultimate stage in the evolution of the satyric chorus, and many authorities are content to stop here. But there remains evidence for a still earlier stage. A British Museum psykter by Duris (Fig. 10)[77]represents ten “choreutae” and a herald, and a British Museum cylix by Brygus contains two scenes, in one of which three “choreutae” are attacking Iris before Dionysus and his altar and in the other Hermes and Heracles are protecting Hera from four “choreutae.”[78]These vases belong to about 480B.C., and the “choreutae” upon them have human feet, no horns, no loin-bands, and equine ears and tails. Reisch is undoubtedly correct in recognizing in these scenes at least the indirect influence of the satyr-play.[79]Furthermore, a similar figure appears upon a Würzburg cylix of about 500B.C.(Fig. 11).[80]This bears the inscription ΣΑΤΡΥΒΣ, amanifest mistake for σάτυρος. Here we have the earliest representation of a satyr in Attica. And though it does not belong to a theatrical scene, its divergence from contemporaneous satyrs of the Peloponnesus and from Attic satyrs of a later period can be explained only on the basis of the appearance of the choreutae in contemporaneous satyr-plays. The Duris psykter and the Brygus cylix show that this type did not at once disappear.
To my mind the meaning of all this is fairly clear. When Pratinas attempted to restore the Dionysiac element to contemporaneous drama at Athens, he kept the Peloponnesian name but did not venture to shock conservatives still further by disclosing to their eyes creatures so foreign and strange as the Dorian goat-men would have been. Accordingly, he transformed his satyrs so as to approximate the sileni of native tragedy.[81]After fifty or sixty years, however, satyric drama had become so thoroughly at home in Athens that the experiment was tried of imposing the Peloponnesian type unchanged upon the Attic choruses. But the reaction could not and did not endure. In two or three decades the final type had emerged, such as we see it in the Naples crater. Except for the goatskin about the loins, which is often highly conventionalized, the native sileni are at every point victorious.
Fig. 11.—A Satyr upon a Würzburg Cylix of About 500B.C.See p. 31, n. 6
Fig. 11.—A Satyr upon a Würzburg Cylix of About 500B.C.
See p. 31, n. 6
Fig. 12.—A Comus upon a Berlin AmphoraSee p. 38, n. 2
Fig. 12.—A Comus upon a Berlin Amphora
See p. 38, n. 2
The Greeks were inordinately fond of associating every invention or new literary genre with some one’s name as discoverer (εὑρετής). In the case of tragedy the problem was unusually complicated. In later years Arion, Epigenes, andThespis all had their partisans. The last named is the one most frequently mentioned, and strictly speaking this view is correct. But more broadly considered, the question largely depends upon the stage of development to which one is willing to apply the word “tragedy.” To many moderns, with almost two and a half millenniums of dramatic history as a background, Aeschylus will seem the first tragic playwright. At least, in his hands tragedy became for the first time real literature.
The foregoing treatment will show that I do not believe a study of the origin of religion to be indispensable for a discussion of the origin of Greek tragedy. Prior to Arion and Epigenes there was nothing which the most fanciful could recognize as akin to modern tragedy. After the work of Thespis and Aeschylus no one can fail to note its presence. To trace, so far as we may, the gradual unfolding of the new genre from a state of nonexistence to a period of vigorous growth seems to me a concrete problem and distinctly worth while. The songs and dances from which tragedy and the satyr-play developed were associated,at the period when they became truly dramatic, with the worship of Dionysus, andat that same periodDionysus was as truly a “god” (as distinct from a “hero”) as any that the Greeks ever knew. To abandon these plain facts and others like them in favor of vague theorizing on religious origins will never bring us satisfactory results. Now, in hisOrigin of TragedyRidgeway, who may serve as a protagonist of this method, recognized only the satyr-play as Dionysiac in origin, and attempted to dissociate tragedy and the dithyramb from that deity and to derive them from ceremonies at the tombs of heroes, i.e., from ancestor worship. I cannot conceive that many classical scholars will believe him to have succeeded in this attempt. Ridgeway evidently foresaw this and tried to forestall it by saying that “as Dionysus himself had almost certainly once been only a Thracian hero, even if it were true that Tragedy had risen from his cult, its real ultimate origin would still be in the worship of the dead” (op. cit., p. 93). What, then, was the point in hisconceding that satyric drama was Dionysiac in origin? In that case the ultimate origins of tragedy and satyric drama must, after all, have been identical, and the differences in their origins must have consisted only of the minor divergencies in the final stage of their development. In practice, how does this result differ from the more usual procedure, which ignores the ultimate sources and concentrates attention upon the last stage of development? So far as I can see, it would differ only to the extent that the underlying religion of both genres would now be understood to be ancestor worship. But this distinction loses all meaning, for the reason that in his last volume Ridgeway maintains that “Vegetation, Corn, and Tree spirits, as well as those of rocks, mountains, and rivers, and what are collectively termed Totemistic beliefs,” fertility-rites, initiation-rites, mana, “the worship of Demeter and almost[82]all other Greek deities” are “not primary phenomena but merely secondary and dependent on the primary belief in the immortality and durability of the soul,” and consequently that tragedy and serious drama (being everywhere associated with some form of religion) not only in Greece but “wherever they are found under the sun have their roots in the world-wide belief in the continued existence of the soul after the death of the body.”[83]How much of truth there may be in Ridgeway’s contention that ancestor worship is prior to and the ultimate source of other forms of religion I shall not stop to discuss. But the practical value of so universal a generalization has been well expressed by another: “Even if it can be shown that your far-off ancestor was an ape, it does not follow that your father was an ape.”[84]In other words, in spite of any resemblance which may have obtained between the ultimate forms of Dionysiac worship and the true veneration of heroes,at the time when tragedy actually came into beingthe existing differencesbetween them were of much greater significance than any alleged identity of origin in the far-distant past could have been. If it were possible for Ridgeway to substantiate his first position, viz., that tragedy arosedirectlyfrom the worship of the hero Adrastus at Sicyon, or the like, there would be some meaning in his work. But his doctrine ofultimatederivation loses itself in primeval darkness.
The Origin of Comedy.[85]—The difficulty of this problem was recognized as early as Aristotle:
Now the successive changes in tragedy and the persons who were instrumental thereto have not passed into oblivion, but comedy did suffer oblivion for the reason that it was not at first taken seriously. And a proof of this is found in the fact that it was relatively late [viz., 486B.C.] before the archon granted a chorus of comic performers; they used to be volunteers. And comedy already had certain forms when the aforementioned comic poets [i.e., Chionides and Magnes, the first comedians after official recognition was granted] appear in the records. Who furnished it with “characters” (πρόσωπα)[86]or prologues or number of actors and the like remains unknown. Developing a regular plot was a Sicilian invention, but of the Athenians the first to abandon the “iambic” or lampooning form and to begin to fashion comprehensive themes and plots was Crates.[87]
Now the successive changes in tragedy and the persons who were instrumental thereto have not passed into oblivion, but comedy did suffer oblivion for the reason that it was not at first taken seriously. And a proof of this is found in the fact that it was relatively late [viz., 486B.C.] before the archon granted a chorus of comic performers; they used to be volunteers. And comedy already had certain forms when the aforementioned comic poets [i.e., Chionides and Magnes, the first comedians after official recognition was granted] appear in the records. Who furnished it with “characters” (πρόσωπα)[86]or prologues or number of actors and the like remains unknown. Developing a regular plot was a Sicilian invention, but of the Athenians the first to abandon the “iambic” or lampooning form and to begin to fashion comprehensive themes and plots was Crates.[87]
But whatever uncertainties may obscure the various stages in the history of comedy, fortunately there is little doubt as to the source from which it came. Aristotle states that “comedy also sprang from improvisations, originating with the leaders of the phallic ceremonies,[88]which still survive as institutions in many of our cities.”[89]Mr. Cornford (op. cit., pp. 37 ff.) finds the best illustration of these ceremonies in the well-known passage in Aristophanes’Acharnians, vss. 237 ff. Dicaeopolis has just concluded a private peace with Sparta and prepares to celebrate a festival of Dionysus on his country estate. He marshals his meager procession as if it contained a multitude, his daughter carries upon her head a sacred basket with the implements of sacrifice, two slaves hold aloft a pole which is surmounted by the phallic symbol, and Dicaeopolis himself brings up the rear with a large pot in his arms, while the wife and mother constitutes the watching throng. At vss. 246 ff. a sacrifice is offered to the accompaniment of an invocation to Dionysus. Finally Dicaeopolis re-forms his procession with various coarse remarks and starts up a phallic ballad of an obscene nature in honor of Phales, “mate of Dionysus and fellow-reveller” (ξύγκωμε). The proceedings thus consist of a procession to the place of sacrifice, the sacrifice itself, and the phallic song orcomus(κῶμος). The last is important for our present purpose because comedy (κωμῳδία) etymologically means “comus-song” (κῶμος + ᾠδή). Κῶμος denotes both a revel and the band of masqueraders participating therein. The comus was the particular type of phallic ceremony from which comedy developed.
The comus in Aristophanes’Acharniansis sung by Dicaeopolis alone for the reason that the lack of suitable helpers compelled him to act as both priest and congregation. But Cornford is right (op. cit., pp. 38 ff.) in recognizing this song as belonging to a widely spread type in which the improvisations of one or more leaders (ἐξάρχοντες) are interrupted at more or less regular intervals by a recurrent chantey on the part of the chorus. Inthis instance the song is not continued to a length natural to the type, but is cut short by the real chorus of the play which has been hiding but now bursts forth and stops proceedings with a shower of stones. From the standpoint of contents Cornford detects two elements in the comus: an invocation to the god to attend his worshipers in their rites, and an improvisational “iambic” element of obscene ribaldry, which often took the form of satire directed against individuals by name (ibid., p. 41). These two elements exactly correspond to the double object of all phallic ceremonies, which were both a “positive agent of fertilization” and a “negative charm against evil spirits.” The former result was obtained by the invocation of friendly powers; as to the latter,
the simplest of all methods of expelling such malign influences of any kind is to abuse them with the most violent language. No distinction is drawn between this and the custom of abusing, and even beating, the persons or things which are to be rid of them, as a carpet is beaten for no fault of its own, but to get the dust out of it.... There can be no doubt that the element of invective and personal satire which distinguishes the Old Comedy is directly descended from the magical abuse of the phallic procession, just as its obscenity is due to the sexual magic; and it is likely that this ritual justification was well known to an audience familiar with the phallic ceremony itself [ibid., pp. 49 f.].
the simplest of all methods of expelling such malign influences of any kind is to abuse them with the most violent language. No distinction is drawn between this and the custom of abusing, and even beating, the persons or things which are to be rid of them, as a carpet is beaten for no fault of its own, but to get the dust out of it.... There can be no doubt that the element of invective and personal satire which distinguishes the Old Comedy is directly descended from the magical abuse of the phallic procession, just as its obscenity is due to the sexual magic; and it is likely that this ritual justification was well known to an audience familiar with the phallic ceremony itself [ibid., pp. 49 f.].
It is possible to cite many examples of ritualistic scurrility among the Greeks, such as that indulged in by the Eleusinian procession as it approached “the bridge,” that of the riders upon the carts on the Day of Pots (χόες) at the Anthesteria, that at the Stenia festival, and many others. Sometimes these involved physical violence as well as mere abuse, and this element (or the threat of it) frequently recurs in Old Comedy. Perhaps the most interesting parallel is afforded by Herodotus v. 82 f. In the sixth centuryB.C., in order to avert a famine, the Epidaurians set up wooden statues of Damia and Auxesia, goddesses of fertility.[90]Somewhat later, the Aeginetans stole these imagesand set them up in their own country; “they used to appease them with sacrifices and female satiric choruses, appointing ten men to furnish the choruses for each goddess; the choruses abused no man but only the women of the country; the Epidaurians also had the same rites.”
The comus frequently took the form of a company marching from house to house to the music of a flute-player and rendering a program of singing and dancing at every dwelling. From what has already been said it will be understood that the improvisations of the comus leaders would rarely redound to the credit of the householders. These scurrilous attacks upon their neighbors combined with other motives to induce the comus revelers to assume disguises, which varied from year to year. Now, according to theParian Chronicle, comic choruses were the invention of Susarion and were first performed at Icaria. This doubtless means that Susarion transformed the ceremonies of an old ritual procession in the country into a “stationary” performance in an orchestra. The same authority informs us that this innovation was introduced into Athens between 580 and 560B.C.[91]This notice must refer to the Lenaean festival, since the program of the City Dionysia did not receive this addition until about 501B.C.At both festivals the performances still continued for some time to be called comuses (κῶμοι), comedy being a name of later date, and were produced by “volunteers.” Five Attic vase paintings of about 500B.C.depict comus revelers as cocks, birds, or as riding upon horses, dolphins, or ostriches (Figs.12-16).[92]The state did not assume official supervision of comedy until 486B.C.at the City Dionysia and about 442B.C.at the Lenaea.[93]
Fig. 13A COMUS UPON A BRITISH MUSEUM OENOCHOESee p. 38, n. 2
Fig. 13
A COMUS UPON A BRITISH MUSEUM OENOCHOE
See p. 38, n. 2
Fig. 14.—A Comus upon a Berlin AmphoraSee p. 38, n. 2
Fig. 14.—A Comus upon a Berlin Amphora
See p. 38, n. 2
Before we can proceed further, it will be necessary to consider the nature of ancient comedy. In the time of Hadrian the history of literary comedy at Athens was divided into three periods, called Old, Middle, and New Comedy, respectively. Old Comedy came to a close shortly after the beginning of the fourth centuryB.C.Politics and scurrilous attacks upon contemporaneous personages made up the bulk of its subject-matter. Living men, such as Pericles, Socrates, Euripides, and Cleon were represented by actors on the stage and were lampooned with the utmost virulence. Sometimes their identity was thinly disguised under a transparent pseudonym, but oftentimes the very name of the victim was retained along with the other marks of identification. Middle Comedy was a transitional period of about half a century’s duration between Old and New. It renounced the political and personal themes of its forerunner and was largely given up to literary criticism, parodies, and mythological travesty. New Comedy, in turn, abandoned such subjects for the most part and devoted itself to motives drawn from everyday life. Except for the occasionalpresence of the chorus, it does not greatly differ in structure, theme, or technique from the comedy of manners today,mutatis mutandis.
Figs. 15-16.—Comus Scenes upon a Boston SkyphosSee p. 38, n. 2
Figs. 15-16.—Comus Scenes upon a Boston Skyphos
See p. 38, n. 2
For the study of origins, however, we must turn back to the earliest type, Old Comedy, which is entirely unlike any present-day genre. We are fortunate in possessing eleven complete plays of Aristophanes, the chief poet of Old Comedy; and though no two of them are exactly alike in the details of their structure, yet the general outline is clear. The leading features are as follows:[94]
1. Theprologue(πρόλογος) spoken by the actors and serving both as an exposition and to set the action of the play in motion.
2. Theparodus(πάρoδος), or entrance song of the chorus. Originally this division must have been exclusively choral, but by Aristophanes’ time it has been developed so as sometimes to include lines spoken by actors.
3. Theagon(ἀγών, “contest”), a “dramatized debate” or verbal duel between two actors, each supported by a semi-chorus; seep. 43, below.
4. Theparabasis(from παραβαίνω, to “come forward”), a “choral agon” in which the chorus, the actors being off stage, march forward to address the audience. When complete, the parabasis consists of seven parts which fall into two groups: the first group contains three single parts, which were probably rendered by the first coryphaeus. Dropping all dramatic illusion and all connection with the preceding events of the play, he sets forth the poet’s views concerning his own merits and claims upon the public, ridicules the rival playwrights, announces his opinions on civic questions, etc. The second group contains four parts in the form of an epirrhematic syzygy, i.e., asong(ᾠδή) andepirrheme(ἐπίῤῥημα, “speech”) by one semi-chorus and its leader, respectively, are counterbalanced by anantode(ἀντῳδή) and anantepirrheme(ἀντεπίῤῥημα) by the other semi-chorus and its leader; here the chorus usually sing in character once more, the knights praising their “horses,” the birds their manner of life as compared with men’s, etc.[95]
5. There follows a series ofepisodes(ἐπεισόδια), histrionic scenes separated (6) by briefchoral odes(στάσιμα or χορικά). The episodes portray the consequences of the victory won in the agon (3). For example, in theAcharniansthe subject of controversy is whether Dicaeopolis shall be punished for the alleged treason of having made a private peace with Sparta, and part (5) represents him, in a succession of burlesque scenes, as enjoying the fruits of that peace.
7. Theexodus(ἔξοδος), or recessional of the chorus. Properly speaking, this should contain only the final, retiring songof the chorus (the ἐξόδιον), but the term came to include the histrionic passage just preceding it, also.
This is a very incomplete sketch of a highly complicated subject, but it will suffice for present purposes.
Now in the scurrility of the primitive (non-literary) comus Professor Navarre (op. cit., p. 248) would recognize three stages. In the first, the ribaldry of the comus received no answer from the crowd of spectators. This is doubtless to be explained by supposing that all who were competent to participate were already members of the comus; the spectators consisted only of women and children, who frequently had no more right of speech in religious ritual than in law. So Dicaeopolis’ wife is present but speechless in Aristophanes’Acharnians(seep. 36, above). In the second stage, the bystanders retorted to the assaults of the comus revelers. This probably indicates that membership in the comus has been restricted in some way, leaving others free to retaliate in kind from the crowd. The third stage was reached when this new element was formally recognized and brought within the comus itself, which was thus divided into antagonistic halves for mutual recrimination. Thus may be explained a peculiar feature of Old Comedy. Its chorus was a double chorus of twenty-four members, always divided into two semi-choruses, which often were hostile during a large portion of the play. Sometimes this division between them was shown by their masks or costumes, as when the chorus represented men and women, horses and their riders, etc. But sometimes the division was one of sentiment—one semi-chorus, for example, favoring peace and the other being opposed to it. The result of this division of the early comus revelers into semi-choruses is a parallelism of structure in certain parts of comedy, ode being matched by antode, and the epirrheme of one chorus leader by the antepirrheme of the other. It is clear that all the divisions which show this duality of arrangement descend from the comus.[96]
One of these divisions is the parabasis (4). Though one of the most ancient features of Old Comedy, it was also one of thefirst to decay: complete in Aristophanes’ earlier plays, it is always mutilated in some way during his middle period and in his last two comedies has disappeared entirely. We have seen (p. 37, above) that the essential characteristics of the phallic ceremonies were the induction of the good influences by invocation and the aversion of the bad by vituperation. Now in the epirrhematic syzygy which constituted the second half of the parabasis, even as late as Aristophanes, when it naturally must have changed considerably in function, “the ode and antode normally contain an invocation, either of a muse or of gods, who are invited to be present at the dance, the divine personages being always selected with reference to the character of the chorus. The epirrheme and antepirrheme often contain the other element of satire or some milder form of advice and exhortation.”[97]
Another division of Old Comedy which was carefully balanced and which ought, therefore, to be a derivative of the comus is the agon (3). Normally this division was epirrhematic in structure and fell into nine parts, as follows: First comes the ode sung by one half-chorus, then thecataceleusmus(κατακελευσμός, “encouragement”) in which their leader exhorts one of the actor contestants, thirdly this actor delivers his speech (epirrheme), concluding with a peroration (πνῖγος, “choke,” so called because it was all to be delivered in one breath and left the performer speechless). Next came the antode, anticataceleusmus, antepirrheme, and antipnigus rendered by the other half-chorus, their leader, and the second actor, respectively. Finally, in thesphragis(σφραγίς, “seal”) is given the unanimous verdict of the whole chorus. At first glance it would seem that too important a rôle is here played by actors for the agon ever to have been derived from the comus, which was purely choral. The comus consisted of an undifferentiated band of revelers and its choreutae assumed no distinct parts. In fact, there is no reason to suppose that their performances involved dramatic impersonation (μίμησις) at all. They might be dressed to represent birds or animals, but with few or no exceptions theysang and spoke and conducted themselves as would be appropriate for men engaged in such a rite to do. As we have already seen (p. 38, above) their costumes were for disguise.
Nevertheless, the situation is not so impossible as it seems. The fact that the masks and costumes of the choreutae were all alike, or at most of two types to correspond to the two semi-choruses, did not prevent each member of the chorus from speaking, or singing, apart from the rest. This was sometimes done even in fully developed tragedy, where the line of distinction between chorus and actors was usually a sharp one. Thus, in Aeschylus’Agamemnon, vss. 1348 ff., each of the choreutae in turn pronounces two iambic lines. In particular, the rôles of the two chorus leaders must have been developed in the comus and early comedy so as partly to compensate for the lack of actors. Note that Aristotle does not state merely that comedy sprang from phallic ceremonies but from theleaders(ἐξάρχοντες) of the phallic ceremonies. An illustration of what may result from participation in the action on the part of individual choreutae is afforded by Aristophanes’Women in Council. I believe that the “First Woman” and the “Second Woman” who appear in our editions as uttering brief remarks at the beginning of this play are not actors but the leaders of the two half-choruses.[98]In function they are not at first distinguishable from Praxagora. Indeed, it does not transpire until later that Praxagora herself is an actor, not the coryphaeus. The fact is that in all his plays Aristophanes seems to have assigned his two chorus leaders more extensive participation both in lyrics and in recitative than has been generally recognized (cf. White,op. cit., passim). In my opinion this sort of thing was even more common at an earlier period, and in this way it was possible for the comus to have a quasi-agon from which the later histrionic agon could easily develop. Of course, the chorus leaders could not appear in individualized rôles, as the actors did in the Aristophanic agon, for characters had not yet been introduced into comedy;but they could engage in a contest of perfectly general, depersonalized billingsgate or, at a later period, speak as the poet’s mouthpiece for the pros or cons of any question. Thus, they would not represent individual men, with an individual’s name and characterization, butanymen. Their sentiments would have been equally appropriate in the mouths of any of the other choreutae.
The agon and parabasis must necessarily have been flanked on either side by a processional and a recessional. In their simplest form, these need not have involved more than silent marching in and out again; but probably the flute accompaniment was always present, and singing would soon be added. Even when words and singing were employed, there was no necessity of these being newly composed for each occasion or even original at all. It will be remembered that in Aristophanes’ earliest and latest plays he did not write special exodia but borrowed from earlier poets any popular airs that suited his purpose.[99]Moreover, Aristophanes’ exodi lack the balanced structure which is characteristic of all divisions which descend directly from the primitive comus; but in this instance that fact has no significance, for the reason that by the end of a comedy (or comus) the two half-choruses would always be reconciled and go marching off together. Nevertheless, the intrusion of the histrionic element, the comparative rarity of the earliest dramatic meter (the trochaic tetrameter), and the absence of a canonical structure make it plain that the recessional of the primitive comus never developed into a regular division—in other words, that the exodus of Aristophanic comedy was the product of a later period.
On the other hand, the Aristophanic parodus resembles the agon and the parabasis in making a large use of the tetrameter (op. cit., p. 185). Moreover, it contains distinct survivals of epirrhematic composition (ibid., pp. 159 and 366), so that, in spite of its histrionic elements and the absence of a canonical form, the parodus ought to be considered as having beenexclusively choral by origin and as having developed out of the simple processional before the comus became histrionic.
The theatrical comus, then, must have been something as follows: first a choral parodus, next a semi-histrionic agon, then a parabasis, and finally a recessional which ultimately developed into an exodus. A late notice,[100]if correctly emended, informs us that at one time comedies contained no more than three hundred verses. I am of the opinion that this is the type of performance alluded to and that comedy did not, in essence, greatly depart therefrom until actors, as distinct from the chorus, were added.
How did this addition come to be made? It is impossible that the comic playwrights, with the actors of tragedy ever before them, should never have thought of taking this step. Nevertheless, the main impulse seems to have come from another direction. We have seen (p. 36, above) that in the non-theatrical comus the phallus was borne on a pole in the ritual procession with which the comus was originally associated; it was not worn. Neither is it worn by the comus choreutae as represented on Attic vase paintings (Figs.12-16). But in Old Comedy it is clear that at least some of the characters wore the phallic emblem. That this was in fact the general practice appears from the language in which Aristophanes boasts of the modesty of hisClouds: