CHAPTER XII.

THE THEATRE.

Origin of the Greek Drama--The Structure of the Theatre--The

Theatre of Dionysus--The Theatre at Syracuse--The Auditorium--The

Stage--The Orchestra--Scene-painting--Stage Accessories--The Greek

Drama--Tragedy, Comedy, and Satire--The _Choragia_--Theatrical

Masks--Costumes--Conditions of Admission to the Theatre--The

Securing of Seats--The Audience.

Greek drama, both tragedy and comedy, originated in the national

amusements and performances of the choruses at the Dionysiac festivals.

A few words must also be said about the arrangements of the theatre,

such as they were at the time of the greatest glory of the drama at

Athens. Here, fortunately, we have so large a store of information and

monuments still extant, that we can form a very clear picture of these

representations, differing as they did entirely from our modern

performances.

In spite of the great advance made by Greek drama from the rough popular

beginnings till the time of its greatest glory, and in spite of the

enormous difference between the tragedies of the three great masters and

the comedies of Aristophanes, both in their whole character as well as

in the details of their structure and performance, and the cyclic

choruses and rustic sports of the old Dionysia, yet there are a few

points in which the drama, even in its highest development, shows the

traces of its origin. One of these is the custom of giving theatrical

representations only at certain festive seasons of the year, and in some

way connected with the worship of Dionysus as actual religious acts,

though

[Illustration: FIG. 150.

A Temple of Asclepios.

B Rocky ground.

C Seats hewn from the rocks.

D Entrance.

E Remains of rows of seats.

F Destroyed portions.

G Parts not yet excavated.

H Not yet excavated; private property, with houses on it.

I Avenue or boulevard.

K Church of the Passover--

(a) Former size.

(b) Present size.]

towards the end of the ancient Hellenic period theatrical

representations were also given at festivals not in honour of Dionysus.

In consequence of this the structure of the theatres, and especially the

place for the spectators, had to be far larger than at the present day.

As performances only took place a few times in the year, and not only

the whole population of the town and neighbourhood, but even many

strangers from a distance, collected together for them, the space for

the audience had to be so large that many thousands, even tens of

thousands, might have room there, and it must also be built in such a

way that the performance could be conveniently seen from every place.

These remarks refer in particular to Athens, with whose theatrical

arrangements we are best acquainted, and which, moreover, was the model

for most of the others. In the first place, it was impossible to have a

covered space; covered theatres--concert-halls (ὠδεῖα), as they were

called--were destined, not for dramatic, but for musical performances;

secondly, the performances took place by daylight, in consequence of

which much of the illusion was lost. Again, the great size of the

structure and the considerable distance of most of the seats from the

actors necessitated certain peculiarities in the costume of these latter

which we must discuss later on.

The memory of the origin of the drama from choruses, to which in the

course of time was added dramatic action, was preserved in a separation

between the performers who presented the action and the chorus who only

accompanied it--a separation which only gradually disappeared at a time

when means were insufficient for defraying the considerable expenses of

equipping a chorus. This distinction between actors and chorus was not

only observed in the composition of the drama, but also in locality; the

chorus, who not only sang, but also danced and marched, required a very

large space for their evolutions, while the actors, whose number was

very small, could do with less. Therefore, while the modern theatre

consists of only two parts, the stage with its

[Illustration: FIG. 151.]

[Illustration: FIG. 152.]

accessories and an auditorium, the Greek theatre consisted of three

parts; besides the auditorium and the structure of the stage, there was

between the two a space for the chorus known as orchestra. In

considering the arrangement of the buildings, we derive assistance from

the descriptions of the ancients, as well as the still existing remains

of Greek theatres. Fig. 150 represents the ground plan of the ruins of

the great theatre of Dionysus at Athens, though we must remember that

this structure, built originally in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C.,

had experienced considerable changes in the Roman period. Fig. 151 gives

a view of the theatre of Syracuse in its present condition, and the

ground plan restored is seen in Fig. 152; while Fig. 153 gives a

restored view of the theatre of Segesta, reconstructed by Strack. We

[Illustration: FIG. 153.]

may regard the orchestra as the centre of the whole structure. This was

originally only a level dancing place, and its shape was usually an

incomplete circle, since part was cut off by the stage, which extended

at right angles along the orchestra. Opposite to this the circumference

of the orchestra was surrounded in concentric lines by the raised seats

of the auditorium, the theatre in the true sense of the word. There is

no fixed standard for the shape of the orchestra and the corresponding

auditorium; sometimes it is a semicircle with the circumference extended

a little way on both sides, sometimes it is lengthened by a tangent, or

some other line at right angles to the circle. In the great theatre of

Dionysus the orchestra was originally a perfect circle; a complete

semicircle, which is common in the Roman theatres, was very unusual in

those of Greece. Here, as in the structures used for games, such as the

Stadia and Hippodromes, the Greeks tried as far as possible to utilise

the natural conditions of the ground for their theatres. If possible,

therefore, they placed the auditorium on some natural elevation; thus,

the great theatre of Dionysus extends up the southern slope of the

Acropolis; and if there was no such elevation they often supplied it by

artificial mounds of earth, differing thus from the custom of the

Romans, who, in consequence of the greater development of their

architectural knowledge, were able to build a theatre on an open space,

and to support the auditorium by strong sub-structures. The Greek mode

of building had the advantage of greater cheapness and security, and, if

the nature of the ground permitted, also enabled them to make exits and

entrances for the public besides those below. In the theatre of Dionysus

there were side approaches on the high ground also. The auditorium of

the Greek theatre was usually situated in some beautiful spot, from

which the visitors to the theatre, at any rate those on the higher

ground, who were not hindered by the structure of the stage opposite,

had an extensive view. Thus the theatre of Syracuse (Fig. 151) had a

glorious view over the harbour and town--in fact, nearly all the

theatres in the neighbourhood of the sea are usually so built that the

auditorium is open towards the sea, and the fresh breeze may refresh the

public during the hot hours of the day.

The seats, according to the nature of the locality, were either hewn

direct out of the rocky ground or based on artificial foundations. At

Athens the spectators originally sat on the bare ground of the Acropolis

slope or on wooden benches placed there; in the fourth century stone

steps were made there. At Syracuse, Sicyon, and other places, nearly the

whole auditorium and the steps were hewn out of the rock; the ends or

wings of the auditorium, which jutted out where the seats ended, close

by the stage, had to be of specially massive construction. Sometimes,

though more often in the Roman than the Greek theatres, the auditorium

touched the side wings of the stage; but this was not a particularly

convenient method, since a considerable number of the places along this

stone wall had no view of the stage or, at any rate, only a very

unsatisfactory one. Entrance was procured for the public by the great

gates which led on the right and left between the auditorium and the

stage, and which, when the spectators were assembled, also formed the

entrances for the chorus (πάροδοι). When a theatre was situated on

elevated ground, there were also other approaches leading to the

gangways of the upper storeys; probably these were only used for

emptying the theatre, and not for admission, since on entering the

spectators had to pay for their admission, or else present their

tickets, and therefore the number of entrances was probably limited with

a view to simplifying the control. In those theatres where the seats

extended as far as the stage, the approaches which were below the seats

had to be covered over (compare the view of the theatre at Syracuse),

but, as a rule, we must suppose that they were uncovered. The seats were

arranged in such a manner that the steps, which rose from the orchestra

to the top of the theatre, were also used as seats; people sat on the

actual stone, unless, as sometimes happened, they brought cushions with

them, or had these carried by slaves. There were a number of places in

the lower rows distinguished from the others by seats of honour, made

also of stone, usually of costly marble; some of these seats, dating,

however, from the Roman period, have been found in the theatre of

Dionysus. The usual height of the steps was from about 16 to 19 inches,

and the depth from 24 to 28. There was no division of seats, and though

probably care was taken that too many persons should not be crowded

together, yet there were no lines drawn to mark out the appointed

places. There was a very convenient and at the same time simple

arrangement for preventing the feet of those who sat on a higher row

from inconveniencing those in front. The depth of the seat was often

sufficient to prevent contact, but, besides that, it was the custom to

hollow out that part of the step where the spectators would put their

feet. Some of the steps, in fact, have three distinct surfaces: the

nearest of these to the row above was hollowed out for the feet; then

came a gangway for those who wished to move to or from their places,

who could thus pass along without incommoding those who were seated; and

the third surface was that on which the next row below were seated.

There were, as a rule, no backs to the seats, but in places where there

was a wider gangway, and thus one row of spectators did not come into

immediate contact with the next, they were sometimes introduced and made

of one piece with the seat.

In larger theatres the auditorium was almost always divided into several

storeys by gangways. These gangways ran round the auditorium

concentrically with the seats, and their object was to facilitate the

circulation of the public; they were therefore of considerable breadth

(compare Fig. 153), and sometimes two such gangways were put close to

each other, one higher and one lower, so that the public could circulate

easily on them without pushing each other. The separate seats were

everywhere connected by steps. Although the arrangement of the whole

auditorium with its raised seats was that of a circus, yet the seats

were far too high to be used as steps also, and these had to be

specially constructed. They were of two kinds; small steps in the

direction of the seats, the object of which was to enable people to

mount from one seat to the next, and the principal staircases, which

intersected the seats through their whole extent from top to bottom, and

formed, as it were, radii of the circle represented by the auditorium.

The number of these staircases was larger or smaller as occasion

required; sometimes the number was doubled at the top, where the

distances increased, by introducing a third staircase between each pair;

sometimes the staircases which began below did not continue at the top,

but there was a change in the radii. It was most common, however, for

these staircases to intersect the whole theatre right up to the highest

seats, and thus to divide the whole auditorium into a number of

wedge-shaped divisions, which, in fact, received the designation of

wedges (κερκίδες). Sometimes these wedges had special names, being

called after statues which were placed there, as, for instance, in the

theatre at Syracuse, and these designations facilitated the finding of

places. As a rule, the steps were so arranged that there were two to

every seat, thus each step was half the height of the seat.

In later times the upper seats led to open arcades; when the ground

permitted it, the Romans often laid out walks and gardens on the

elevation of the theatre, where the spectators might refresh themselves

during intervals; below, near the orchestra, the auditorium was cut off

by a wall, which must be so low that the spectators on the first seat

could conveniently see the stage, which was raised a good bit above the

orchestra. Sometimes the first gangway for the circulation of the public

was placed behind this wall, which was bounded by a low breastwork; when

this was the case, steps of the first-mentioned kind led up sideways to

the orchestra (compare Fig. 153).

The size of the auditorium varied greatly. If our measurements of ruined

theatres are correct, the theatre at Ephesus was the largest of all;

Falkener has calculated that it could contain 56,700 people. The largest

theatre in Europe was that of Megalopolis, which was calculated to have

44,000 seats, and the theatre of Dionysus 30,000. These calculations

are, however, very uncertain, since we do not know how many feet were

allotted to each person, and a variation of half a foot would make a

very considerable difference.

The most important question connected with the orchestra deals with the

_Thymele_, often alluded to by ancient writers. It was formerly assumed

that this represented the ancient altar of Dionysus, round which the

choruses originally danced, and that it was situated in the centre of

the orchestra, while the chorus grouped around it, and that the leader

of the chorus stood near the Thymele or on its steps, and the officials

of the theatre also took their stand there. The view given by Strack in

Fig. 153 is constructed according to this hypothesis; and a structure

resembling an altar with steps is placed in the middle of the orchestra.

But this interpretation of the Thymele has proved untenable, and though

it is not possible to decide this question with any certainty, yet,

among the various hypotheses, that of Wieseler seems the most

probable--viz., that the Thymele was a wooden scaffolding constructed in

the orchestra, on which the chorus performed its dances. The main object

of this scaffolding, or podium, was not so much to place the chorus on

higher ground as to facilitate their games and dancing, because it was

easier to move and dance on the elastic floor of a wooden scaffolding

than, as formerly, in the dusty orchestra, which, in fact, from this

circumstance received the name “dust-place” (κονίστρα), or even on the

stone pavement which seems to have been afterwards laid down in the

orchestra. We do not know whether there were steps leading from the

floor of the orchestra to this scaffolding, and, in fact, we cannot even

determine its height. The size of the podium must have been

considerable, since it must have supplied sufficient space for a large

chorus. Besides its members, the number of which in cyclic choruses

often amounted to fifty, the musicians who accompanied took their place

there, and, apparently, even the constables (ῥαβδοφόροι), who

superintended the theatre; for, strange as it may seem to us that the

officials whose duty it was to keep order among the public should be

placed in so prominent a position at the side of the chorus, yet the

proofs in favour of this arrangement seem decisive. The usual entrances

to the orchestra for the chorus were the same as those used by the

public; here, as in the arrangements on the stage, the rule was that the

entrance on the right hand of the spectators indicated approach from the

neighbourhood, from the town or harbour, and the left arrival from a

distance.

The stage in the early days of the theatre was not much more than a mere

wooden scaffolding, on which the actors appeared, while the chorus

performed its dances in the orchestra below. There was a tent on the

side turned away from the orchestra which served as a place of waiting

for the actors when they had nothing to do on the stage, and it was this

tent (σκνή) which gave its name to the stage, although even afterwards

distinction was made between the actual stage and the structures

connected with it. The real stage was an oblong surface, raised from ten

to twelve feet above the orchestra; it was called the proscenium

(προσκήνιον), and sometimes the speaking-place (λογεῖον). The lower

front wall was decorated in the Roman period with architectural designs,

reliefs, or painting; we do not know whether this was also the case in

the Greek theatre, as Strack has assumed in his reconstruction, but it

is very probable that the front scene, which was turned to the

spectators was not left quite bare. In Strack’s view there were also

steps leading from the orchestra to the speaking-place. We cannot tell

whether these were regularly placed in the theatres. Still, steps

between the orchestra and stage were indispensable in those plays in

which (as, for instance, in “Philoctetes”) the chorus leaves the

orchestra and ascends to the stage; but it is quite possible that there

were special wooden steps used for this purpose, which were taken away

again when this connection was not required. The existence of these

movable steps is especially mentioned in ancient writers.

Connected with this proscenium were the buildings belonging to the

stage; these usually formed a structure several storeys in height, which

enclosed the stage on three sides (compare Fig. 153) in the plan of the

theatre of Dionysus (Fig. 150). The older walls belonging to the fourth

century are sketched more lightly than the later restorations; here the

walls of the stage, the actual _skene_, is the piece marked G. Z.; on

the right and left were side wings (παρασκήνια), and these were

terminated by the walls 12 and 13. The latest investigations of Dörpfeld

prove that the stage of the theatre of Dionysus, constructed by the

orator Lycurgus, had originally no fixed proscenium, but that a fresh

wooden stage was constructed on every occasion. In later times they cut

off a piece of the two side wings and fixed scenery between them.

Several doors led from the tent to the stage; as a rule, there were

three in the background, of which the middle one was the entrance of the

chief actor, called “Protagonist,” and was supposed to lead either from

a royal palace, or a dwelling, or a cave, according to the nature of the

play; the door on the right was for the second actor, the one on the

left had no special significance. We must not, however, regard these

statements as universal. Probably there were usually three entrances to

the stage, though in the theatre of Dionysus there is only a single

door; but as the front was usually covered by some decoration, these

entrances were not directly used, but the actors came through them into

the narrow space between the wall of the stage and the decorations, and

thence through the doors in the decorations on to the stage. The scenery

of the background varied according to the nature of the action, and

sometimes required several doors or entrances; sometimes there may have

been no door at all, since the actors also had at their disposal the

entrances by the side wings. These statements, therefore, only refer to

certain plays, especially those tragedies in which the chief personage

is a king; in this case, probably, the middle door was the one supposed

to lead to the royal palace, and used, therefore, only by the

protagonist, although we must not on that account suppose that he always

came and went through this door, since the nature of the plays would of

itself forbid this. Very often, too, a king appeared in the play whose

part was an unimportant one, not given to the protagonist, and then, of

course, the rule above quoted could not be observed.

The side wings were used for the actors to wait in, and it is very

probable that the chorus also before making their appearance, and during

the time when they were not present in the orchestra, retired thither,

and that there were passages leading thence to the side entrances. There

were also doors communicating with the stage, and these, like those in

the orchestra, had their special significance; through the right-hand

door came those actors who were supposed to come from the town, and

through the left those who came from a distance, such as messengers,

guests, friends returning home, etc.

The decorations were only on the stage, the orchestra was left quite

bare, and probably had not even any movable properties. It is pure

fantasy to suppose that in some plays a connection was established

between the stage and orchestra by making the whole represent a mountain

with rocky caves, etc. The Greeks assumed a certain amount of illusion,

but confined this to the stage; they did not trouble about the space in

front, any more than we care to-day about the appearance of the

orchestra in front of the opera. It was the scene represented on the

stage that gave its significance to the orchestra; if a palace was

represented, and the stage represented the place in front of it, then

the orchestra became an open space, on which the people assembled; if

the background was a temple, the orchestra was the sacred space

immediately in front of it (τέμενος), and so on. Possibly the wall under

the front of the stage was connected with the decoration, so that if the

stage, for instance, represented a wild forest with a cave, the front of

the scene was similarly decorated.

Scene-painting, in which Greek art first made an attempt at perspective

drawing, had no such difficult and complicated tasks to accomplish in

those times as in ours. The chief pieces of scenery were the background

and the revolving pieces (περίακτα). The background of the proscenium

had to cover the wall of the stage, and also indicate the place of the

action, whether a square in front of a palace, or a street with private

houses, or a forest, etc. We must not think of the great variety of

scenery known to our modern stage; no doubt, too, they were content with

very simple execution, merely hinting at the scene required. The

background was probably suspended in a wooden scaffolding or frame, and

placed immediately before the inner scene front on the floor of the

stage. We do not know, however, how the decoration of the background was

changed, for change of scene was sometimes necessary even in the ancient

drama; perhaps they were in the habit in such cases of placing one of

the scenes in front of another, so that, as at the present day, the

front decoration had only to be moved, either by dropping it or by

dividing it in two parts drawn to the side (for in the absence of rods

they could not draw them up), and thus the second scene became visible

behind.

The second kind of decoration, which took the place of our movable

scenes, were the revolving pieces. These were two contrivances shaped

like a three-sided prism, placed on either side of the stage at a little

distance from the side-wings; their axis was attached to the wooden

floor of the stage, and round this they moved. Each of them had three

surfaces for decoration, so that, by turning them round, three different

scenes could be represented, and this was doubtless enough for any play,

for in the pieces which have come down to us there is only change of

scene in two, the “Eumenides” of Aeschylus, and the “Ajax” of Sophocles,

and in both these tragedies there is only one change. These revolving

pieces must also have had a little store of decorations, for it was very

easy to cover them with a change of picture, as they appear to have been

simple stands. The theory that the ancient stage had altogether only

three scenes for these stands--viz., one for tragedy, one for comedy,

and one for the satyric drama, is undoubtedly mistaken.

The Greek stage had no other scenery than that for the background and

the revolving pieces; there must have been some movable properties,

such as benches, altars, tombs, etc., which are indicated by the

contents of many plays preserved to us. It is very doubtful whether the

Greek theatre resembled the Roman in the use of a curtain, which,

instead of drawing up, sank down into the ground when the play opened;

there is no absolute proof that this was the case. The modern prompter’s

box was unknown, and it is evident that they did not make use of a

prompter.

The machinery of the ancient stage seems to have been very complicated.

Of most of the theatrical machines we know only the names, and can form

but a very insufficient conception of them. A contrivance in very

frequent use was the “rolling-out machine” (ἐκκύκλημα), which, according

to the statements of ancient writers, was used to show the spectators

proceedings in the interior of a house--as we should say, “behind the

scenes;” for in the Greek drama the scene was never laid inside a room,

but everything went on in the open air. Our authorities do not, however,

enable us to form any clear conception of this contrivance; probably the

background opened out in some way, and the person or group which was to

be seen on the machine was rolled out on a wooden scaffolding moving on

rollers or wheels, which must, of course, have been decorated in some

way; in some cases it may have been unnecessary to open out the

background, and sufficient for the machine to be pushed in through one

of the three doors. There was a similar contrivance for rolling out

persons who were to be shown in the upper storey of a house at a

corresponding height above the stage, as we see from the “Acharnians” of

Aristophanes, where Euripides appears in this manner on a sort of

balcony in the upper storey. Another contrivance bore the special name

of “machine” (μηχανή), and was the origin of the expression _Deus ex

machina_, used when a god, descending from Olympus, violently cut the

knot of the action; this was used for suspending in the air gods,

heroes, or mortals, but especially those persons who had to appear above

as though flying. We cannot tell where this machine was attached, and

how it was worked; there seems to have been a contrivance of this kind

on either side of the stage, above the side entrances, near the side

pieces, and the one on the left was used by gods, while that on the

right was used for other purposes. The machine itself must usually have

been kept in some upper storey of the stage structure. It must have been

a somewhat dangerous means of transit; the actors who had to perform

this aerial journey were usually bound fast with ropes or girths, and in

the “Peace” of Aristophanes Trygaeus, when mounting on his aerial horse,

the dungbeetle, which must have been a similar flying machine, implores

the manager of the machinery, who has to superintend all these

arrangements, to be very careful that he does not come to grief. The

“gods’ speaking-place” (θεολογεῖον) appears to have been a scaffolding

above the chief entrance in the background, on which the gods appeared,

probably surrounded by clouds; it differed from the “machine” in showing

the gods peacefully throned above, instead of bringing the Olympian

deities down to earth. Connected with the “machine” was the “crane”

(γέρανος), a crane-like machine let down from above, which was used when

human beings were to be lifted up from the stage; as, for instance, when

Eos carried away the corpse of Memnon through the air.

They also had machines for producing thunder and lightning. We do not

know how the lightning was made, and it is difficult to imagine that it

could have been produced with any great result in broad daylight. The

thunder was caused by rolling bladders full of little stones to and fro

on brass plates in the hollow space under the stage. In this hollow

space were also probably the “steps of Charon,” a contrivance for

bringing the spirits of the dead on to the stage. Nothing certain is

known concerning these steps, but it is very probable that they were

managed after the fashion of our trap-doors, for undoubtedly the floor

of the stage covered a hollow space, and thus a contrivance of this kind

was very easily produced.

We must next consider the plays which had to be performed here. On the

old Greek stage there were three kinds of drama--tragedies, comedies,

and satyric dramas. The comedies were acted singly, and each constituted

a complete whole; but tragedy, as it developed out of the Dionysus

legend and the division of the action into three connected therewith,

was so constructed that a large circle of myth was treated in three

separate tragedies, whose contents were connected, but which were

structurally complete in themselves, and these were called a Trilogy.

But about the same time the curious custom originated of following up

these three serious pieces, with their deeply pathetic contents, by a

merry satyric drama by the same author,--a wild farce, in which a chorus

of satyrs was introduced in connection with some mythical action, which

of course, only appeared in travesty; and this combination of four

dramas was called a Tetralogy. Unfortunately no tetralogy has come down

complete to us; the trilogy of Aeschylus alone, which deals with the

story of Orestes, gives us some notion of the mode in which the tragic

poets arranged their material in the form of a trilogy. The first part,

“Agamemnon,” represents the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra and

Aegisthus; the second, the “Choephorae,” the vengeance taken by Orestes

on the murderers; the third, the “Eumenides,” the absolution for the

murder of his mother by the Areopagus. The tragic poets did not very

long abide by the custom of presenting complete tetralogies at the

Dionysia, in which the trilogy presented one connected subject. It

attained its complete development under Aeschylus, but Sophocles already

began to depart from it, and in the tetralogies with which he and

Euripides competed, the internal connection between the tragedies was

wanting. In later times it was customary for tragedies complete in

themselves to be acted singly, so that the poets competed with drama

against drama; still, the inscriptions show us that even in the fourth

century tetralogies were acted, though they may not have been connected.

Each of these three kinds of drama underwent several changes during the

course of Greek literature.

In tragedy, whose subject was usually legend, but which also dealt with

questions of the day, such as the occupation of Miletus and the wars

with the Persians, there was at first a distinct preponderance of the

lyric element supplied by the chorus over the purely dramatic part.

Before the time of Aeschylus there was little idea of dramatic

treatment; at that time there was only a single actor who, together with

the chorus, supplied the whole action, and confined himself chiefly to

recitations, so that there could be no question of striking situations

and dialogue. Aeschylus then introduced a second actor; and as these

actors, by a change of dress, could undertake several parts, the action

was enlarged and animated, and the dialogue grew more interesting. When

Sophocles added a third actor--an innovation of which Aeschylus, too,

made use in his later period, and which constituted the highest number

ever used in the Greek drama--the victory of the dramatic part over the

lyric was accomplished; and from that time onward the chorus sank in

importance compared with the actors, and at last disappeared altogether.

In the tragedies of Euripides the dramatic element had become so

important that the chorus could really be dispensed with; true,

Euripides could not venture entirely to discard this custom, which was

sanctified by religion and tradition, but, by gradually diminishing the

share of the chorus in the action, he prepared for its complete

abandonment. In Aeschylus, therefore, the solemn songs and reflections

of the chorus occupy a considerable space, and the chorus even sometimes

takes an active part in the action, since it preponderates in the play,

and may be regarded as an acting personage; in Euripides its presence is

more accidental--it expounds the dogmas and opinions of the poet, but

takes no part in the action, and in tragedies it might be entirely left

out without injury. In Sophocles alone the chorus and dialogue are

harmoniously balanced. Corresponding to these changes in the position of

the chorus was the amount assigned to them for declamation. We may say

in general that the chorus sang an entrance song (πάροδος), and

afterwards during the further course of the play choric songs to mark

pauses in the action, accompanied by marching, but without leaving the

orchestra, and these were called standing songs (στάσιμα); these long

odes divided the drama into a series of parts, called episodes

(ἐπεισόδια), which may be compared to our acts, since the action stops

during the song, and the spectator has time to collect himself and to

let what he has heard and seen act upon him, while the song continued

through the interval helps him to keep the impression produced by the

action, or else prepares him for what is to follow.

The older comedy, of which Aristophanes is the chief representative,

made use of chorus and dialogue in the same way as tragedy. Its subjects

referred to actual life, and dealt with political, social, and literary

questions, and others of universal interest, but in a fantastic manner,

with the most eccentric masques and absurd contrivances, dealing out

hits all round with the wildest licence, and sparing neither the common

citizen nor the most powerful and exalted personages. The part played by

the chorus differed in many respects from that undertaken in tragedy;

the comic chorus very often stepped entirely outside the action, and, as

the mouthpiece of the poet, who used this opportunity to bring his

political or other opinions before the public, to fight out personal

quarrels, and, in general, to say whatever he pleased, it directed

itself to the public; such are those comic choruses which bear the name

_Parabasis_. The comic chorus was also adequately distinguished from the

tragic, both in the difference of costume and in the number of its

members; the latter were generally only twelve, and the former twice as

many. Again, the dances and rhythmic movements of the comic choruses

differed greatly from those of the tragic. But even during the lifetime

of Aristophanes, the transformation of the comedy began in its outer

form as well as in its real nature. The outer change consisted in the

abolition of the chorus, the expenditure of which the citizens were no

longer willing to defray, and thus an excellent opportunity was lost of

saying rough truths with a laughing face, and the way was paved for a

gradual change of subject. The change was accomplished by the so-called

newer Attic Comedy, which had no chorus, and, instead of political or

social satire, took as its subject pictures from Athenian life, love

intrigues, comic misunderstandings, etc., and, in fact, more closely

resembled our modern comedies. Then the lyric element naturally

vanished, which in the older comedy, as in tragedy, appeared not only in

the chorus but also in the dramatic performance of the actors; the

action was presented only by dialogue, and the musical element, which

had formerly played a very important part in comedy, was confined to

accompaniment of the recitation, and thus became entirely subordinate.

The satyric drama is the one in which we can trace the fewest changes,

but it had only a short existence. It was invented by Pratinas, a

contemporary of Aeschylus, probably with the intention of compensating

the public, who must have sadly missed the popular sports which had

formerly enlivened the celebration of the Dionysia, and to satisfy their

desire for coarser fare. At first the satyric drama seems to have

preceded the tragedies, but this was soon changed. In the best period of

the drama we never find satyric plays alone without tragedies preceding

them; they were so essentially a part of the tragedy that we only hear

of tragic writers as composers of satyric dramas. The best period of the

satyric drama was the time of Pratinas and Aeschylus; Sophocles and

Euripides, too, composed them--one by the latter has come down to us,

the “Cyclops”--but at that time its best period was already over, since

it no longer formed the necessary conclusion of a dramatic tetralogy.

Still, satyric dramas retained their position on the stage until the

second century, and, in fact, the Alexandrine poets made a fresh attempt

to connect the satyric drama with tragedies in a tetralogy. We know very

little about the subject of these later satyric dramas. The titles of

Alexandrine plays that have come down to us show that at that time

actual life was introduced, though the mythological subjects which had

formed the sole basis of the ancient satyric drama were also used.

The ancient drama, under which we include tragedy, satyric drama, and

comedy, was a combination of three arts--poetry, music, and dancing. The

last was, as a rule, confined to the chorus, and it very seldom happened

that an actor in the play performed a dance, but the musical part

belonged not only to the chorus but also to the actors; for though the

usual dialogue consisted merely in recitation, yet there were long

passages in the purely dramatic part which were not declaimed by the

actors, but sung. Our modern writers express very different opinions

about the mode in which the dialogues were recited. It appears to us

most probable that in comedy there was, as a rule, only speaking,

without any musical accompaniment; while in tragedy continuous musical

composition was introduced alternating with dramatic speech--that is,

spoken recitation, accompanied by music--and even with simple

declamation. Then there were also solo songs by the actors, of which the

metre was lyric, and these bore some resemblance to the airs of our

modern opera; they are less common in the older tragedy than in

Euripides, with whom they sometimes take a disproportionately large

place. There were also musical dialogues between the actors and chorus,

in particular its leader. The instruments used for accompaniment were

the lyre and cithara, and also the flute. The stringed instruments were

used chiefly for striking a few notes like the chords struck at our

recitations; the flute only indicated the chief notes, and accompanied

the melody of the chorus and the solo song either at the same height or

one or two octaves higher. Flute playing accompanied most of the choric

songs; with the chorus entered a flute player, who always took his place

on the thymele. In later tragedy the music, which had formerly been very

simple, grew more elaborate and complicated; several flute players

played at the same time, and with their shrill music very often drowned

the singing; but the solo performances on the stage were accompanied by

only a single flute.

The choregraphic element in the drama, which belonged especially to the

chorus in tragedy, consisted chiefly in marching with various figures,

much like our modern polonaise. The dances in comedy were much more

lively and often of a lascivious character, and those of a satyric

chorus were also of a burlesque nature. But, doubtless, the choric

dancing consisted not merely in certain regular movements of the feet

adapted to the music, but also in rhythmic motions of the whole body,

and especially of the hands and arms, so that their dancing must have

somewhat resembled our modern ballet. It is not easy to get any complete

conception of it; the later hypotheses are by no means proved, and many

strange statements have been made about the recitation of the chorus,

the division of verses and words of the song among the semi-chorus,

leaders, or individual members. In any case the task of the chorus was

no easy one, since the members were not professional artists like the

actors, but amateurs, who had to be specially trained for each

performance. This was due to the institution of the _Choragia_.

In ancient times the equipment and performance of plays was not, as

afterwards, a duty of the State; the poet undertook the expenses, and

tried to cover them by entrance money. But when the theatrical

representation became a regular part of the Dionysiac festivals, the

State took the matter in its own hands, and arranged things in such a

way that the expenses for the chorus were undertaken by some wealthy

citizen as a liturgy, while the rest of the expenses were defrayed by

the State. This liturgy was called _Choragia_, because originally the

person who defrayed the expenses also trained and led the chorus. For

the various choric performances required at the many festivals--since

besides tragic and comic choruses there were also cyclic and other

choral representations--each tribe chose its “choragus,” and this was

done a year in advance, because the preparations required a great deal

of time. If a poet wanted to perform one of his dramas at a festival, he

need not consider how to procure the necessary actors, but only how to

get his chorus. For this purpose he addressed himself to that archon

whose duty it was to make the arrangements for the festival in question,

and begged him to assign him a choragus. It appears to have been in the

power of this official to accept or refuse the play. Probably the poets

handed in the manuscript of their plays. The only limitations in

applying were that the poet must be a citizen, and of unstained

reputation; and in comedy, on account of its political character, he

must be of a certain age--thirty years, according to most of the

statements. If the archon accepted the drama, he assigned the poet one

of the choragi, either by election or lot. It was by no means a matter

of indifference whether this was required for tragedy or comedy; for at

the time when they competed with tetralogies, tragedy involved at least

as much expense as did comedy with its larger chorus. It is probable,

therefore, that the choragi were sometimes assisted by the State,

especially as in later times, when the glory of Athens had departed, and

its citizens were no longer so rich, it became more and more difficult

to find people ready to undertake these great expenses; and in later

times it was not unusual for several choragi together to undertake a

chorus.

The first duty of the choragus was to collect the necessary number of

persons and to pay those who were not bound to appear unpaid. He had

also to choose and pay a chorus teacher, who had to train the chorus

(χοροδιδάσκαλος), and usually undertook the place of chorus-leader at

the performance. In former times, when this instruction of the chorus

was not a profession as it was later on, and the poet often helped in

the training, the choragus frequently trained the chorus himself, and

even appeared as their leader at the performance; but in later times

this was unusual. The choragus had also to procure, or if necessary

hire, a place for the training of the chorus, to keep the members during

the time of training, and to provide them with festive garments and

wreaths for the performance. It rested with him to spend a large or a

small amount for this last purpose, but a choragus who equipped a comic

chorus economically, risked being made the subject of the poet’s sarcasm

on some future occasion, and in the allotment of prizes, too, the

appearance of the chorus would be considered, as well as the manner in

which it performed its task.

The chorus-members were usually free citizens; strangers were jealously

excluded. Their task was by no means a light one; bodily dexterity was

required for the dances, and good musical training, good delivery and

comprehension of the poetic text were necessary in order to give a

satisfactory representation of the poet’s work before the keenly

critical Attic public. It is, therefore, natural that a good choragus

took considerable trouble to procure a good chorus, the rather as the

choragia was a contest in which not only the poet but also the choragi

contended for the prize. Besides those already mentioned, the choragi

had also other duties: to procure the requisites, such as decoration for

the side-scenes, perhaps even to supply sacrificial animals if they were

required in the play. In later times, when the chorus had lost its

importance, and the expenses were less considerable, the choragus had

also to supply the dresses of the actors, though this was never the case

in the best period of the drama. In fact, as we may learn from the

inscriptions, a complete change in the choragia took place in the

Hellenistic period. It became the custom for the people to choose

presidents of contests (ἀγωνοθέυαι), whose duty it was to provide for

the musical competitions at the Dionysia and other festivals. They had

to attend to the regular and suitable performance of the contests, to

supply certain sacrificial animals, etc.; this was often a very

expensive undertaking, and, like all officials, they had to make a

statement concerning their office at the conclusion of its duration.

This institution in a way placed the choragia in the hands of the

people, who transferred their duties to the presidents, and these had

then to equip all the choruses, which were no longer so numerous as they

had been formerly. This innovation was necessitated by the fact that

the number of rich families of whom these pecuniary sacrifices could be

demanded, had become very small, and these now supplied the presidents.

This change in the arrangements of the choragia seems to have taken

place under the rule of Demetrius of Phalerum, towards the end of the

fourth century B.C.

It is a well-known fact that in the ancient theatre women never appeared

on the stage, and all women’s parts were presented by men; we have also

noted the fact that there was at first only a single actor, who

represented various parts one after another, and entered into a dialogue

with the leader of the chorus, and that Aeschylus added a second, and

Sophocles a third. Originally the poet himself appeared as actor, and

when there were several actors, as protagonist--that is he represented

the chief part. When Sophocles, who had himself appeared a few times,

abandoned this custom, it gradually fell into disuse, and the first

actor, as well as the two others, was supplied to the poet by the State.

As a rule, the actors were allotted to the poets by lot; it seems,

however, that before the State undertook to pay an actor, he had to

submit to examination, and that only those who had already appeared, and

whose performances were well known, were excluded from this examination.

The State, then, engaged for each festival a number of protagonists,

deuteragonists, and tritagonists, corresponding to the number of poets

contending; thus, if there were three poets competing, they required

nine actors, supposing the same actors continued to perform throughout

the whole tetralogy, of which we cannot be certain. The lot assigned to

each of the poets one out of the three classes; still, we know that some

poets always had the same protagonist, who appeared in all their plays,

and for whom, in fact, they sometimes wrote a special part; therefore,

it must have been customary for poets who had already been victorious to

ask for a particular protagonist without drawing lots, and this custom

probably became the rule afterwards. We cannot, however, say how the two

others were chosen.

The parts of the play were now divided between these three actors; the

chief part, which, as a rule, was the most difficult, fell to the

protagonist; the next in importance--viz., the one which was brought

into the closest connection with the chief person, fell to the

deuteragonist; the tritagonist undertook unimportant parts, such as

messengers, heralds, etc., and these actors of the lowest class did not

stand in particular estimation with the public. But as the plays

contained more than three parts, each actor had to undertake several,

and therefore, even while composing a play, the poet had to be careful

that the actors, if they had to appear in another part, had sufficient

time for change of costume, and that the absence of an actor who was to

be used for another part should be in some way explained. There were,

however, plays in which it was absolutely impossible to manage with

three actors, and for these there was a contrivance about which the

exponents of passages referring to it hold very different opinions, and,

indeed, there seem to be mistakes or misrepresentations in the authors

themselves. It is most probable that when a poet required more than the

three actors assigned him by the State he applied to the choragus, and

came to an agreement with him; he then supplied a fourth actor, or even

a fifth, since it was only small parts that had to be thus undertaken,

and, if necessary, the choragus also provided a second, or minor,

chorus, such as was required in certain plays (parachorêgêma). There

were also dumb personages, or statists, called also “spear-bearers,”

since these parts were frequently merely standing parts. We do not know

whether the State or the choragus paid for these. We have, in fact,

little information about the payment given to the actors, which must

have been, however, different in proportion to their performances; in

the Macedonian period celebrated actors received very high pay. In the

Hellenistic period a complete transformation took place in acting. When

the chorus was abolished, and the representation of dramas in

consequence became easier, and took place at other festivals as well as

the Dionysia, unions of actors were formed, calling themselves

“Dionysiac artists,” concerning which the inscriptions give us a good

deal of interesting information. A number of these companies combined

together into sacred guilds, which had their seat in the large towns,

and sent their members in companies into small towns and also into the

provinces as far as Asia Minor, for festive representations. We are best

acquainted with the arrangements of the Dionysiac artist company of

Teos, an Ionic town on the coast of Lydia. These not only appeared in

Asia Minor, but had also rights in Delphi, Thebes, and Thespiae. It

numbered a great many members, not only actors, but also writers of

tragedies, comedies, and satyric dramas, epic poems, and encomia;

composers, musicians, dancers, machinists, decorators, wardrobe owners,

etc. They also instituted a dramatic musical school, a kind of

Conservatorium, in which pupils from various parts of Greece were

trained, and usually in turn became members of the guild. It is very

interesting to examine the details, management, inner organisation, and

life of the members of these actors’ guilds in the Alexandrine period,

but unfortunately space does not permit us to do so here.

All the arrangements already described show strong contrasts between

ancient and modern theatres, and perhaps there is nothing which strikes

us as so extraordinary as the Greek theatrical costume, and especially

the appearance of actors in masks. It is impossible for us to understand

this complete disregard of expression and change in representing

feelings, and this perpetual stare of the unchanging mask. This curious

custom has been explained in many different ways. It is a mistake to

suppose that the Greek theatres were too large for the play of an

actor’s expression to be observed, and that the coarse features of the

mask were arranged with a view to this distance, in which their want of

change would be less striking. Since they played in broad daylight, in

the sharp clear light of a southern sky, the spectators, even in the

most distant places, could have followed the play of the actor’s

features, especially since the ancients had better eyes than our present

generation. Nor is it correct to suppose that the masks were required in

order that the funnel-shaped contrivance applied to its mouth should

strengthen the sound; for the acoustics in the Greek theatres were

usually so good that the very slightest word even whispered on the stage

could be heard in the auditorium. Undoubtedly it would have been

impossible without masks for the same actor to undertake many parts in

quick succession; but at the same time we may ask whether they would

have held so strictly to this system of dividing all the parts among

three actors if they had not already possessed the masks, and thus the

possibility of abiding within these limitations. The introduction of

real characters, whose features were to be faithfully imitated was also

facilitated by the masks, but good mimics could achieve this even

without, as examples on the modern stage have shown. Consequently, none

of these reasons really explain the use of masks; in reality they

originated in the religious customs which were the origin of the drama,

and afterwards were simply maintained with many other relics of its

religious origin, as people had got accustomed to them and found them

convenient. It had formerly been the practice at the Dionysia, whence

the drama originated, for people to disguise their faces by smearing

them over with husks of grapes, etc., or to cover them up completely, or

disguise them with wreaths of ivy, etc. Instead of painting and covering

them with leaves they gradually began to use pieces of linen, at first

quite shapeless and destined only to cover the face and prevent

recognition, but afterwards by imitating human features, these developed

into masks. This custom continued, then, as sanctified by tradition,

and, indeed, all the theatrical arrangements were regarded as a sacred

ceremony in honour of Dionysus.

The theatrical masks, the material of which in later times, too, was

linen, covered with plaster of Paris, or else wood, bark, etc., differed

from our modern masks in covering not only the face, but the whole head

of the actor. The actor who had put on the mask could, of course, only

see through the slits for the eyes, and, indeed, it sometimes

happened--and in the oldest period seems to have been common--that,

instead of cutting out a slit for the whole eye, there was only one for

the pupil, and the iris was represented on the mask itself, and

coloured, so that the actor had the difficult task of looking only

through the place for the pupil; still, as the dimensions of the masks

were usually larger than those of a human face, this may have been

larger than his own. Of course, the masks were completely painted over;

the eyebrows, lips, cheeks, wrinkles, etc., were marked; the beard and

hair were made of real hair, or wool, or some other succedaneum. Some of

the tragic masks had a high bunch of hair above the forehead to increase

the height; this was called the “superficies” (onkos), and its object

was mainly to increase the height of the actor and make him appear of

greater size--an object at which many other peculiarities of the tragic

costume also aimed. The ears were not always visible. The mouth was

usually open, very wide, with lips and sometimes artificial teeth. The

object of the great width of the mouth opening was to enable the actor

to declaim and sing unhindered. The comic masks (see below, Figs. 156

and 157), very often had a funnel-shaped mouth opening, which gave a

very grotesque expression to the whole face, and may have been connected

with some special technical object, or else merely destined to increase

the comic effect. In putting on the masks they took hold of the chin,

and drew them on from bottom to top; they were then fastened under the

chin with strings, and the actor’s neck was almost completely covered by

the mask and his clothing; hence the curious, we might almost say

asthmatic, impression given by the pictures of ancient actors.

Generally speaking, we may distinguish three kinds of masks, according

to the three kinds of drama--tragic, comic, and satyric; and it is not

difficult among the numerous representations of masks on ancient works

of art to distinguish between these three kinds, especially since the

expression is, as a rule, decisive. In the tragic masks we see calm

solemnity, deep grief,

[Illustration: FIG. 154.]

[Illustration: FIG. 155.]

or wild passion; every feeling is expressed on a large and usually

dignified scale. The comic masks, on the other hand, always incline to

caricature; and those used for the satyric drama, since they were meant

for satyrs, naturally represent the physiognomy of animals. But, besides

these general indications, there were a large number of gradations--some

of them very finely marked--which proves to us that the old makers of

masks, which was a special branch of trade, thoroughly understood their

work and also human physiognomy. In olden times they seem to have made

the masks specially for each drama, so that they might correspond

exactly to the characters. This was the case in tragedy as well as in

the older comedy, Aeschylus, to whom in particular innovations and

inventions in this domain are ascribed, required quite new masks for his

“Eumenides,” which had never before appeared on the stage; as did

Aristophanes and the other poets of the older comedy for their fantastic

characters--Frogs, Clouds, Birds, etc., as also for the real personages

represented in their comedies, such as Euripides, Socrates, Cleon, and

could only use the already existing masks for the usual typical figures

of citizens and citizens’ wives, slaves, etc., as well as for the

mythological personages, Hercules, Dionysus, etc. The newer Attic

comedy, with its typical characters, very seldom required

specially-constructed masks, and it thus became the custom for the

properties of every stage or acting company to include a considerable

supply of character masks of every kind, which in most cases were

sufficient for the demand. Consequently, to speak simply of tragic or

comic masks is to express ourselves rather superficially; for though an

actually comic mask--that is, one whose absurdity excites to

laughter--could never be used in a tragedy, yet there were serious

masks which might be used in a comedy; and it would be wrong to suppose

that all the persons in a comedy for instance by Menander, appeared in

masks which could be designated as specially comic.

Among the typical masks they distinguish between sex, age, and

differences of figure; thus there was a mask called “the young girl,”

another “the thin old woman,” “the fat old woman,” etc.; then they

distinguished according to the colour or cut of the hair: there was the

“curly-headed youth,” the “short-haired maiden,” the “fair man,” the

“grey satyr,” or by the beard: the “man with a long beard,” the

“beardless satyr,” or by the complexion: the “brown man,” the “fair

woman with flowing hair,” and even by the shape of the nose, as the

“satyr with a pug-nose.” Other masks were characterised by the social

position they were to represent, such as “the old housewife,” “the

countryman,” “the old hetaera,” “the soldier,” “the lady’s maid with

elaborate coiffure,” or according to special peculiarities of mind or

character; “the worthy young man,” “the talkative old woman.” Even

varying moods of mind or feelings were represented by the masks, and it

is probable therefore, that when an important change took place in any

one person, the actor changed his mask behind the scenes. The writers

also supply various instances to show the different means by which

special traits of character were represented. One of these tokens was

the colour of the complexion; a brown complexion characterised healthy

men, living much out of doors, or devoting themselves to physical

exercise; a white complexion was given to women and to delicate or

effeminate youths; pale or yellowish to invalids, or those whose mind

was disordered or suffering, as for instance unhappy lovers. The colour

and expression of the eyes was also important; they distinguished

between dull, piercing, dark, gloomy, sad, etc., and all this was not

represented by the actor, but was already indicated in the mask. The

eyebrows, too, were of importance; when they were drawn up high they

indicated, in comedy, pride and boastfulness, and were thus allotted to

parasites, soldiers, etc.; narrow eyebrows indicated seriousness or a

sad state of mind. No less important for the character of the mask was

the treatment of the forehead, nose, etc. To explain all this we give,

in Figs. 154 and 155, the front and side view of a tragic terra-cotta

mask, whose wide-open mouth, staring eyes, brows drawn upwards, and

wrinkled forehead indicate fear and terror. A contrast to these is the

comic mask (Figs. 156 and 157), with the funnel-shaped mouth opening,

the pug-nose, squinting eyes, and eyebrows drawn down towards the

middle. Similar is the mask worn by the comic actor in Fig. 158, who in

other respects appears in the costume of ordinary life--that is, in the

short slave’s dress--and the mask of the comic actor in Fig. 159 is a

similar caricature.

Besides the regular masks, from which the actors chose those that suited

their part, unless the poet had already prescribed what they were to

wear, others were in later times adapted for extraordinary

situations--for personages of quite abnormal figure, allegorical

characters, etc.--and these could not be used for ordinary performances.

Tragedy especially was often obliged to bring unusual masks on the

stage; and the comedy of Southern Italy, which treated mythological

subjects in grotesque fashion, may have occasionally required quite

special masks. Thus, on the Pompeian wall-painting (Fig. 160), which,

doubtless, was copied from a Greek picture, the masks relate to the

legend of Andromeda; the one on the left belongs

[Illustration: FIG. 156.]

[Illustration: FIG. 157.]

to a youth with a brown complexion, whose winged cap and harp resting on

the ground mark him out as Perseus; this is a special mask, and so is

that of the monster in the middle, while that of Andromeda above on the

right, and the others on the right below, which are not quite distinct,

may easily have formed part of the ordinary supply.

[Illustration: FIG. 158.]

Equally strange and different from the modern was the rest of the

costume of the Greek stage. Speaking of tragic equipment, we may

characterise the contrast between that day and our own by saying that

Greeks, in the choice of their tragic costume, aimed at the type, while

we desire to indicate the individual. In theatrical costume, as in art,

we wish to represent everything with historical truth; the history of

costume and fashion is a subject of special study for modern stage

managers. Ancient tragedies very seldom

[Illustration: FIG. 159.]

dealt with historical subjects, but usually with legends; therefore a

costume must, as it were, be invented for the characters. Art could

assist them but little, since it generally represented the gods and

heroes in the nude; but the theatre, which at the same time was a

religious institution in which all the co-operators were participants in

the celebration, sought its effects chiefly by splendour of costume.

Thus was developed the ordinary tragic dress, which belonged neither to

actuality nor to the past, but was an ideal costume most closely

resembling the garments of religious festivities. There were also

certain special means adopted for increasing the height of the actor

beyond reality, but we must not suppose that this was required by the

great distance at which the actors were seen; these attempts at

magnifying were rather caused by the desire to make the actors appear

super-human, heroic personages, excelling the men of the day in physical

power and dignity, just as the wonderful deeds of the Homeric heroes

exceeded the weak actions of their descendants. The requirements of

costume in comedy were somewhat different; for gods and heroes the same

costume was used as in tragedy, but slaves or persons of ordinary life

were also introduced, and these could not be clad in solemn garments. It

is difficult to find a fixed standard in comedy, since we must take into

account not only the difference between the older and the newer comedy,

but also the comedy outside Attica--for instance, that of the

Sicyonians, the Tarentines, etc.--which had its peculiar character, and,

doubtless, also peculiar dress, just as the “Arlecchino” of the Venetian

popular comedy appears in a different dress from the Florentine

“Stenterello,” and the Neapolitan “Pulcinella,” although originally they

were all three the same person. A special costume was not required for

the satyric chorus, since all that was necessary here was to imitate as

well as possible what was represented by works of art. In stage costume,

as in that of real life, we must distinguish between upper and lower

garments. The lower garment of the tragic actor, as well as of the

chorus, both in male and female parts, was the long chiton, which was

worn in Attica before the time of Pericles, and traced its origin to

Ionia; this dress was maintained on the stage because it was especially

a festive garment, and, like these festive garments, the theatrical

dresses were many-coloured, richly adorned with embroidery or borders,

and often very costly, if a rich choragus desired to equip his chorus

splendidly. As a rule, this chiton was girded in the old fashion, which

we see also in the cithara players, immediately under the shoulders,

thus forming a very high waist. They also wore long sleeves reaching

down to the hands, a peculiarity of festive costume which had

disappeared from real life. To increase the magnificence, the chiton

often had a train, not only for women but even for men. The upper dress

was either the himation and chlamys, common in ordinary life, or else

garments peculiar to the stage, of which a number of names have come

down to us, but no exact details of their shape and mode of wearing.

Here, too, colour was the rule; black clothing was worn

[Illustration: FIG. 160.]

by wretched and persecuted people. In their case, of course, the festive

costume, which would have formed too sharp a contrast with their parts,

was discarded; Philoctetes, Telephus, etc., did not appear in royal

splendour, but in simple garments or even in rags. We may remember the

description given in the “Oedipus at Colonus” of the appearance of the

unhappy exiled prince; and Aristophanes’ jokes show us that Euripides

aimed specially at attracting the pity of the spectators by wretched

beggars’ dress. The dress of the women, generally speaking, was similar;

perhaps there was a difference in the mode in which the upper garment

was put on. Subordinate personages in tragedy--messengers, satellites,

slaves, etc.--wore the short chiton; paidogogoi appeared in the barbaric

dress already described; and thus variety in the appearance of the

actors was produced, while the ceremonious dress was reserved for the

most important personages. The ivory statuette of an actor, of which two

sides are represented in Figs. 161 and 162, gives an excellent notion of

the tragic costume. He wears a long chiton, with sleeves (painted blue

in the original) decorated with three broad stripes, descending from the

girdle to his feet, and with horizontal stripes round his sleeves. The

mask, with the high superficies, bears an expression of wild anger; the

size of the slits for the eyes is remarkable, and we can see through

them the eyes of the actor, as well as a piece of the face immediately

round them. As a rule, only the pupil so appears in Greek masks, and

therefore the editor (C. Robert) surmises that this points to a Roman

custom of the Imperial age. This statuette is also interesting for the

shape of the “cothurnus,” the usual foot-gear of the tragic actor. The

cothurnus was a tolerably high shoe, but made to fit either foot;

[Illustration: FIG. 161.]

[Illustration: FIG. 162.]

the tragic cothurnus was especially distinguished by very high cork

soles, which considerably increased the height of the wearer. As may

here be seen, the foot with the actual cothurnus is hidden under the

dress, only the high soles are visible beneath it. When the height of

the actor was thus increased by the superficies and cothurnus, it was

necessary to give a larger appearance to the rest of the figure; for

this purpose they stuffed themselves out with cushions, and wore gloves

with long fingers, which seem to have been fastened to the sleeves, etc.

The whole produced an effect that would hardly have suited our taste,

but in reality was not nearly so strange as the costume of the heroes of

Corneille and Racine, to whose court dress and long wigs the seventeenth

century seems to have taken no exception. Of course, there were various

necessary additions to this costume: arms for the warriors, a sceptre

for the kings, a lion’s skin and club for Hercules, and a fawn skin for

Artemis, etc. In comedy the women probably appeared in the costume of

ordinary life. For the male characters, except the fantastic parts, the

short chiton seems to have been commonest, especially for persons of the

lower classes; and the slaves, who were never absent from the newer

comedy, wore the “exomis,” the common workman’s dress. The skin garments

of the country people were also worn, and knapsacks and knotty sticks

completed their equipment. In later comedy special characters were

marked out by the colour of the dresses: thus, the parasites wore black

or green dresses; others, again, coloured dresses with cloaks; slaves,

the white exomis; youths, the white chiton with purple border; cooks,

unfulled garments, etc. Similarly the feminine characters were marked

out; there was the old woman, the daughters of citizens, the rich

heiresses, hetaerae, etc. In the comedy of Southern Italy, the costume

of which is represented on many vase paintings, the actors of male parts

usually wear a closely-fitting dress,

[Illustration:

T. II PL XCIV.

FIG. 163.]

covering the legs as far as the ankles, and the arms down to the hand,

and over this a tight-fitting tunic, leaving arms and legs free (compare

Fig. 163). Here it is evident that the lower garment takes the place of

our tricot; the arms and legs are supposed to be bare. If the object was

to represent absolute nudity, the tunic was replaced by a close-fitting

vest, usually provided with a false stuffing, on which the breasts and

navel were marked. To this was sometimes added the comic phallus, a

remnant of the old coarse popular jokes, in which the Older Comedy

frequently indulged. But in the New Comedy it fell gradually into

disuse, and was entirely absent from the representations of ordinary

life, though introduced into farces which burlesqued the myths and tales

of the heroes.

We give here several examples of pictures from ancient comedy. In Fig.

163, the meaning of which is not clear, the stage has on its left side a

scaffolding covered in with a roof, to which a staircase leads; on the

floor of this erection lie a bundle of beds or carpets, a cap, and a

litter. Chiron, whose name appears on the plate, is climbing up the

staircase with difficulty, and bending down leaning on his rough knotty

stick; a slave is pushing him up from behind, while Xanthias, standing

on the top of the stairs, seizes hold of his head as though to draw him

up. In the background we see two not specially attractive nymphs, of

whom only the upper part is visible; these again are designated in the

inscription; the youth on the right, in the himation, and without a

mask, is not one of the actors. Possibly this is a representation of the

sick Chiron seeking healing at a sanctuary of the nymphs. The costume

and the tricots, as well as the grotesque masks, are worthy of notice.

The vase painting in Fig. 164 has not been satisfactorily

[Illustration: FIG. 164.]

explained. It is evident that Hercules is engaged in some love

adventure, as is proved by the lion’s skin in which the actor, who is

jesting with a girl, is dressed, and the club which rests beside him.

The figure on the right probably represents an old woman; on the left is

a man contemplating the scene. With the exception of the girl and the

woman in the middle, the masks are extreme caricatures; the costume of

the two men resembles that in Fig. 163. Fig. 165, a Pompeian

wall-painting, may be here compared, because it evidently imitates Greek

prototypes, and the scene represented in the centre belongs to the later

comedy. The one actor with a curious head-dress and a spear seems to be

a sort of _Miles Gloriosus_, the man in a reverential position speaking

to him a parasite. The three youths who stand near wear no masks, and it

is therefore doubtful whether they are to be regarded as part of the

representation in the character, perhaps, of statists, who may have

appeared without masks. Two old men to the right and left of the central

scene, seated on a somewhat lower plane, and leaning on their knotty

sticks, with serious official mien, are doubtless theatrical police, who

had to keep order during the performance. It is not easy to say what

place in the theatre they were supposed to occupy.

We gain some information concerning the costume of the satyric drama

from a very interesting vase painting, which cannot, however, for

various reasons, be represented here, and which we propose, therefore,

shortly to describe. This represents the personages taking part in a

satyric drama before the commencement of the performance; a group in the

centre of the top row does not belong to the performers: this represents

Dionysus resting on a

[Illustration: FIG. 165.]

couch with Ariadne, near him is a woman holding up a mask, probably a

Muse, and the little _Eros Himeros_. To the right and left of this

group, which must be regarded as the ideal scene, stand three actors,

each holding his mask in his hand (the strings by which they were held

are visible); next on the right is Hercules, who may be recognised by

his lion’s skin, club, and quiver; near him is the “Papposilenus,” his

whole body covered with skin, a panther’s skin thrown over his left arm,

and holding a short staff; we do not know the name of the third actor on

the left. The chorus of satyrs consists of eleven persons, of whom only

one has as yet put on his mask. That one is practising a dance in

preparation for the performance. Most of the chorus are dressed alike

with only a little covering of skin round their loins, and the short

satyr’s tail; one of them, however, has a little garment of some

material with a pattern, and another wears an embroidered dress with

himation; he might be taken for an actor if his mask did not bear the

satyric type like the rest, the pug nose and the pointed ears. In the

middle of the lowest row two musicians are represented: a splendidly

dressed flute player seated, in front of him stands a cithara player.

Further to the left sits a young man holding a roll in his hand, another

roll lies on the ground, a lyre is visible behind him. In spite of his

striking youthfulness, this young man is probably the teacher of the

chorus or the poet himself. The actors are bearded men, the chorus

beardless youths. Two tripods close by probably suggest the prize to be

competed for.

We must now say a few words about the external details of the

performance, the public, and the reception of the pieces. Originally,

admission to theatrical representations was free, as to a religious

festival in which the whole population were to take part. But when the

crowd of spectators became greater this had its disadvantages, and very

often quarrels for places ensued between citizens and strangers. We know

little of the conditions in other places; but at Athens, when in 500

B.C. the old wooden theatre fell down during a performance, and the new

stone theatre of Dionysus was erected, they took advantage of the

occasion to levy an entrance fee, the amount of which is uncertain. Even

at the beginning of the fifth century the income from this source seems

to have belonged to a theatrical lessee, whose duty it was in

consequence to keep the building in proper condition. He paid a fixed

sum to the State, and in return received the entrance money. It is well

known that Pericles, partly with a benevolent desire of making the

theatre accessible for the poorer class of citizens, and partly also in

order to increase his popularity by this democratic measure, introduced

a law by which every citizen received the price of admission from the

State. This was the “show-money” (θεωρικόυ), an institution which seems

to have lasted for centuries, but the arrangements connected with it are

by no means clear. In the first place, it was probably calculated for

the poor people only; but the rich, too, made use of it, if only to

escape from possible reproach of pride or haughtiness by some of the

numerous informers who at that time existed at Athens. There was a

special board entrusted with the distribution; the show-money was

allotted to the citizens according to tribes by cashiers appointed by

lot, whose duty it was to see that none received it without proper

claim. It was therefore distributed in the separate tribes according to

the registers of citizens in the demes. The statements of the ancients

do not agree about the amount of the money; but the most probable of the

newer hypotheses is that for one day it amounted to two obols, for the

three days of the great Dionysia one drachma. The money was paid, on

admission into the theatre, to the lessee, who either received it in

person, or levied it by means of his controllers or cashiers; the same

people took the fees from those who had not received the show-money,

such as the resident foreigners, strangers, etc. It is very difficult to

decide whether this was paid in coin or not; one hypothesis is that,

instead of money, the citizens received tickets, which had the value of

money, and simplified the paying out as well as the paying back; many

such counters bearing theatrical emblems, have come down to us, and are

supposed to have been admission passes. Still, weighty objections have

been made to this hypothesis; and it is more probable that the citizens

really received the actual money, with which they could do what they

pleased; they either bought a ticket for the theatre--and very likely

these counters were really entrance tickets--or spent it in any other

way they pleased. It was not possible to control this; and herein, no

doubt, lay the disadvantage of the institution, which has often been

spoken of as injurious to the Attic democracy, since it was followed by

similar institutions at other times, and consequently the unproductive

expenses of the Attic budget extended more and more. A number of places

in the theatre were given free, or were places of honour: thus, for

instance, those reserved by the State for foreign envoys, the places for

the priests and others who had a right to special seats; naturally, the

expenses of these places had to be paid by the State to the theatrical

lessee.

The question whether women and children might visit the theatre is often

asked. Undoubtedly women were allowed to be present at the tragedies,

since there are sufficient passages to prove this. Now, tragedy was

followed by the satyric drama, which was often exceedingly coarse both

in language and gesture; obviously then the women must have sat this

out, and this need not appear so very strange to us, since there does

not seem to have been much prudery among the Greek women. Moreover, the

satyric drama was only indecent now and then, and the jokes were vulgar

according to our ideas, but not exactly frivolous, and no worse than

modern operettas to which ladies are in the habit of going. The comedies

were different, especially the older comedies, for the whole contents

are often coarse, and situations occur in them which make it impossible

for us to imagine that women or boys should have been present. Still,

all indications seem to prove that they were seen by women, with this

limitation, that respectable women who had regard for their reputation

did not go to comedies; hetaerae, who are often alluded to as eager

theatre-goers, probably constituted the greater part of the feminine

public. It also seems that boys were present. Slaves were allowed to

visit the theatre; some even earned money, and could therefore pay their

own admission, others may have gone in attendance on their masters, or

have received the money for their entrance in some other way; but it is

unlikely that they sat among the citizens; probably there were special

places allotted them; indeed it has been suggested that there were

distinct seats for every class. The only places about which this is

certain are the lowest rows, which were seats of honour for officials,

priests, etc. Moreover, it is probable, but not quite certain, that the

highest places were reserved for strangers. It has also been assumed

that the women sat in the more distant places, or, at any rate, not in

the front rows, and this seems probable; otherwise, there is no passage

which proves for certain that the seats for the men at Athens were

distinct from those of the women.

Another question is the manner in which the non-reserved places were

allotted. It seems certain that they were not numbered, and, indeed,

this would have been scarcely possible among so many thousands; but

there may have been a general division of the theatre according to the

wedges, and the separate divisions of each wedge, and these may have

been indicated on the entrance counters. Benndorf has suggested that at

Athens each wedge may have been assigned to the members of a particular

tribe, and that on the counter given to each citizen the tribe in

question was marked by some symbol. But this hypothesis is only probable

if we assume, with Benndorf, that the citizens received not money but

counters; if the spectators bought their theatre tickets from the lessee

with the show-money, or at their own expense, it was impossible for

there to be any division of places according to tribes, for this would

have necessitated a fresh and very troublesome control of the registers

of citizens. We must therefore assume that the counters bought of the

theatrical lessee were marked according to wedges and division, and the

spectators had to take their places accordingly but that, with the

exception of a few classes of spectators, there was no compulsion to

take a place in any special division.

Of the three musical contests celebrated at the greater Dionysia, each

kind, namely, the tragedies with the satyric dramas, the comedies, and

the cyclic choruses had their special judges. At the appointment of the

choragi, which took place a long while before the festival, the Council

of the Five Hundred, probably under the presidency of the Archon, in the

presence of the elected choragi, elected these by ballot, and the lot

once more decided which of them was to pronounce judgment. We know for

certain that five judges were appointed for comedy, probably the same

number was required for tragedy, although an exceptional case is

mentioned, during a contest between Aeschylus and Sophocles, in which

there were ten judges, a departure from the ordinary custom, which was

required by the great excitement in the public and the fear that the

judges might be influenced in their decision by it. The judges had to

pronounce on three points: the work of the poet, the performance of

chorus and choragus, and the acting. The reward for the victorious poet

was a wreath of ivy; the choragus received permission to set up a public

monument in token of his victory, and, as already mentioned, the choragi

in the tragic choruses usually dedicated tripods, those of the comic

choruses fillets, thyrsus wands, and other festive apparatus; their

decisions were also commemorated by inscriptions. The prize of the

actors probably consisted in additional gifts of money besides the fees

that were legally due to them.