THE SCENERY
§ 1. _General Character of the Scenery._
In the production of a play the chief objects on which care and money
were bestowed were the training of the chorus, the payment of the
actors, and the supply of suitable dresses. The scenery was never made
a prominent feature of the exhibition. All that was required was an
appropriate background to show off to advantage the figures of the
performers. The simplicity in the character of the ancient scenery
was a necessary result of the peculiar construction of the stage. The
Attic stage, though from sixty to seventy feet long, was apparently
never more than about fifteen feet in depth, and was still further
contracted in after times. On a long and narrow platform of this kind,
any representation of the interior of a building would be out of the
question. All those elaborate spectacular illusions, which are rendered
practicable by the great depth of the modern stage, were impossible.
Nothing more was required than to cover over the wall at the back with a
suitable view. Again, not only were the mechanical arrangements simple,
but the number of scenes in use upon the Attic stage was very limited.
Not only was a change of scene in the course of the same play practically
unknown, but there was often very little difference between one play and
another as regards the character of the scenery required. Each of the
three great branches of the drama had a background of a conventional
type, specially appropriated to itself, and this typical background was
the one usually adopted. When therefore a series of tragedies was being
exhibited, or a series of comedies, it must often have happened that the
same scenery would do duty for several plays in succession.
The use of painted scenery, natural as it appears to us, was only
invented very gradually by the Athenians. For a long time the erection
at the back of the stage continued to retain its original character. It
was regarded, not as a back-scene, but merely as a retiring-place for the
actors. The notion of covering it over with painted scenery, in such a
way as to make it represent the supposed scene of action in the play, was
a development of comparatively late times. The old drama had no scenic
background. The action was supposed to take place in some open region;
the decorations were confined to such properties as could be put up on
the stage; the wooden hoarding in the rear was nothing more than the
front of the actors’ room. Things were still in this primitive condition
when Aeschylus wrote his four earlier plays. The progress of the art
of scenic decoration can be traced very distinctly by comparing these
plays with his later tragedies. In the first four there is no mention of
any scenery, no clear definition of the exact spot where the action is
taking place. The scenic appliances are limited to properties erected
in front of the hoarding. In the Supplices the scene is laid in an open
district at some distance from the city. In the centre is an altar of
the gods, at which the suppliants take refuge.[566] Otherwise there is a
total absence of local colouring. In the Persae, the next in order of his
plays, the action is also laid at a distance from the palace. The only
object mentioned as actually in sight is the tomb of Darius.[567] In the
Septem the performers are gathered together within the walls of Thebes
beside an altar on some rising ground, from which the towers of the city
are visible.[568] But there is no clear definition of the scene, and no
mention of any palace or other building from which the actors make their
entrance. In the Prometheus the action takes place in a rocky region of
Scythia. But in all probability the cliff to which Prometheus is chained
was merely built up upon the stage. There is nothing in the play to
suggest an elaborate representation of the view. In these four plays the
background was still a bare wall with doors for the actors. It had no
scenic significance. But when we come to the Oresteia, the last dramatic
production of Aeschylus, a great change is noticeable. The scene is
now laid in front of a building which is clearly defined and frequently
referred to. In the first two tragedies it is the palace of Agamemnon at
Argos; in the third it is the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and later on
the temple of Athene at Athens.[569] The contrast between these plays
and the earlier ones, as regards local colour and allusions to the scene
of action, is very marked and conspicuous, and denotes a considerable
advance in the art of mounting a play. The old actors’ booth had now
become a regular scenic background.[570] The bare hoarding was covered
with painting, to represent a palace, or a temple, or whatever else might
be required. This conclusion, which may be deduced from the extant dramas
themselves, is confirmed by the ancient traditions as to the introduction
of scene-painting. Aristotle says it was invented by Sophocles; Vitruvius
apparently ascribes it to Aeschylus.[571] Whichever statement be correct,
it is clear, from the fact of its being attributed to both poets, that
it must have been introduced at that particular period when both were
exhibiting upon the stage. It cannot be placed earlier than the first
appearance of Sophocles in 468, or later than the last appearance of
Aeschylus in 458. Moreover Sophocles, if he really invented it, is
not likely to have done so immediately on his first appearance. The
most probable date, therefore, is some period not very long before the
production of the Oresteia, and subsequent to the production of the four
early plays of Aeschylus.
By the middle of the fifth century, then, we may regard the use
of painted scenery as fully established. Taking this date as our
starting-point, it will be interesting to consider the question as to
the number and character of the scenes most in use upon the Attic stage.
Our principal authority will be the Greek plays still in existence.
Vitruvius divides scenery into three classes—tragic, comic, and satyric.
According to his description, the salient features in a tragic scene were
columns, pediments, statues, and other signs of regal magnificence. In
comedy the scene represented a private house, with projecting balconies,
and windows looking out upon the stage. The scenery in the satyric drama
consisted of a rustic region, with trees, caverns, mountains, and other
objects of the same kind.[572] The above list is not intended to be an
exhaustive one. It merely describes in general outline the type of scene
which was most characteristic of each of the three great branches of the
drama. At the same time, it is more exhaustive than might at first sight
be supposed. If the extant Greek dramas are examined, it will be found
that in the great majority of cases the scenery conforms to the general
type described by Vitruvius. To take the tragic poets first. Twenty-five
tragedies by Sophocles and Euripides have been preserved. In no less than
seventeen out of the twenty-five the scene is laid in front of a palace
or temple.[573] In all these cases the general character of the scenery
would be exactly such as Vitruvius describes. The prominent feature
would be a magnificent building, with columns, pediments, and statues.
Of the remaining eight tragedies, there are four in which the scene
consists of an encampment, with tents in the background.[574] The other
four all require special scenery. In the Philoctetes the scene is laid
in front of a cavern in a desert island. In the Ajax it is laid partly
before the tent of Ajax, partly in a solitary quarter by the sea-shore.
The background in the Oedipus Coloneus consists of a country region,
with the sacred enclosure of the Eumenides in the centre. Finally, the
Electra of Euripides is altogether exceptional in having its scene laid
before a humble country cottage. On the whole, the evidence of the extant
tragedies tends to confirm the statement of Vitruvius, and exemplifies
the conventional character of Greek tragic scenery. In the great majority
of instances the background would be an imposing pile of buildings,
adorned with various architectural embellishments. As to the satyric
drama, the Cyclops of Euripides is the only specimen of this class of
composition which has been preserved. The scene there corresponds exactly
to the descriptions of Vitruvius, and consists of a country region, with
the cave of Polyphemus in the centre. There can be little doubt that in
most satyric dramas the background was of much the same character. As
the chorus always consisted of satyrs, whose dwelling was in the forest,
the scene of the play would naturally be laid in some deserted country
district. The scene in the New Comedy was almost invariably laid in front
of an ordinary private house, as is proved by the adaptations of Plautus
and Terence. As to the Old Comedy, in six out of the eleven comedies of
Aristophanes, the background consists merely of a house, or of houses
standing side by side.[575] In four others the principal part of the
action takes place before a house. In the Thesmophoriazusae the scene
consists of a house and a temple standing side by side. In the Lysistrata
there is a private house, and near it the entrance to the Acropolis. In
the Acharnians the opening scene takes place in the Pnyx; the rest of the
action is carried on before the houses of Dicaeopolis, Euripides, and
Lamachus. The scene in the Knights is laid partly before the house of
Demos, and partly in the Pnyx. The only comedy in which the scenery is of
an altogether exceptional character is the Birds, in which the background
consists of a wild country region, filled with rocks, and trees, and
bushes. It appears, therefore, that even in the Old Comedy there was not
much variety in the scenery.
As regards the style of the ancient scene-painting, and the degree
of perfection to which it was eventually brought, it is difficult to
speak with any certainty. But in the fifth century, at any rate, there
can be little doubt that the scenery was of the simplest description.
Landscape-painting was still in its infancy, and altogether subordinated
to the painting of the human figure. When landscapes were introduced into
a picture, they were suggested rather than worked out in detail.[576]
A city was represented by a few houses, a forest by a few trees, and
so on. The paintings for the stage were probably of the same general
type. The scenes most in use were front views of temples, palaces, and
dwelling-houses. In such cases a rough indication of the different
buildings would be considered sufficient. That they were depicted with
any completeness and realism is far from likely, though the newly
discovered art of perspective was undoubtedly applied to architecture and
the painting of architectural scenes much earlier than to landscape.[577]
It is true that the personages in the extant dramas often use words
which seem to imply an elaborate architectural background. They speak
of columns, triglyphs, cornices, and pediments.[578] In the Ion they
even admire in detail the bas-reliefs with which the temple front was
decorated.[579] But it is not certain that the objects mentioned were all
of them actually represented upon the stage. Many of them may have been
left to the imagination. As for natural scenery, there was probably very
little of this in the early theatre. If the action was laid in a country
region, as in the Philoctetes and the Oedipus Coloneus, and in the
generality of satyric plays, the necessary effect might be produced by a
few rocks, and trees, and other similar objects. In later times it was
customary, when the background represented a palace or temple, to insert
a landscape on either side.[580] Even in the plays of the fifth century
there are occasional references to such landscapes. Helen, standing
before the palace of the Egyptian king, points to the ‘streams of the
Nile’ as flowing close by. The old man in the Electra, when he reaches
the palace of the Atreidae, shows Orestes the country round about, with
Argos and Mycenae in the distance. The Trojan captives descry, from the
Greek encampment, the smoke and flames of burning Troy.[581] But here
again we may doubt whether, on the contemporary stage, these places were
really visible to the spectators. At any rate, if they were delineated
at all, it was probably in a slight and symbolical fashion. As time went
on the art of scenic decoration was much improved and elaborated. In
the Hellenistic period it seems to have reached a fairly high degree of
development. Natural phenomena were now depicted with more realism. Seas
and rivers, earth and sky, are mentioned among the objects delineated.
Even regions in Hades and Tartarus were represented upon the stage.[582]
The progress of landscape-painting in general among the later Greeks
naturally produced its effect upon the work of the scenic artists. But it
would be an anachronism to attribute efforts of this ambitious kind to
the contemporaries of Sophocles and Euripides.
The introduction of magnificent decorations appears to be always a
later development in the history of the drama. On the Elizabethan stage
the back-scene consisted of a bare wall, and anything in the way of
spectacular effect was provided by the movements and groupings of the
actors. To produce an impression by scenic means would have been alien
to the taste of the Athenians of the fifth century. In the dramatic
performances of that period the conspicuous feature was the chorus in
the foreground, with its graceful arrangement and picturesque dresses.
Above the chorus, on the narrow stage, stood the actors and mute figures,
arranged in line, and dressed in brilliant colours. The long scene in
the rear was so far decorated as to form a pleasing background, and show
off the persons of the actors to advantage. But no attempt was made
to produce a realistic landscape, or to convey the ideas of depth and
distance. In its general effect the scene upon the stage resembled a long
frieze or bas-relief, with the figures painted in brilliant colours,
rather than a picture with a distant perspective.
§ 2. _Mechanical Arrangements for the Scenery._
The scenery consisted of painted curtains or boards, attached to the wall
at the back of the stage.[583] As the mechanical arrangements for fixing
them up have not been described by any of the ancient writers, a detailed
account of the matter is impossible. But some facts can be deduced from
the testimony of the existing dramas. In every Greek play the action
was supposed to take place in the open air. The scene was generally
laid before some building or tent, or in a country district with a rock
or cavern in the background. The upper portion of the painted scene
represented merely the sky, and was probably the same in all dramas. The
lower portion delineated the building or landscape which the particular
play required. It used to be commonly supposed that this lower portion
projected two or three feet in front of the upper; that the back-scene
was not a flat surface from top to bottom, but that a narrow ledge or
platform ran across from wing to wing about half-way up.[584] The object
of this hypothesis was to provide room for the ‘distegia’. The distegia
was a contrivance which enabled actors to take their stand upon the roof
of a palace or private house.[585] Eight or nine instances of its use are
to be found in the existing Greek plays. Thus the Agamemnon of Aeschylus
opens with the watchman sitting upon the roof of the palace at Argos, and
waiting for the beacon’s signal. In the Phoenissae of Euripides Antigone
and the attendant mount upon the roof to get a view of the army encamped
outside the city. In the concluding scene of the Orestes Hermione,
Orestes, and Pylades are seen standing upon the roof of the palace.
Examples also occur in comedy. In the Acharnians the wife of Dicaeopolis
views the procession from the roof of the house. At the commencement of
the Wasps Bdelycleon is seen sleeping upon the roof, and later on his
father Philocleon tries to escape through the chimney. At the end of the
Clouds Strepsiades climbs up a ladder to the roof of the phrontisterion,
in order to set it on fire. In the Lysistrata Myrrhina and Lysistrata are
seen upon the battlements of the Acropolis. The distegia may also have
been used in that scene of the Supplices where Evadne appears upon the
summit of a cliff, and then flings herself down.[586] In all these cases
it used to be imagined that the standing-room for the actor was provided
in the way described; that the lower part of the scene projected two or
three feet, and so furnished a permanent platform in the background.
But this theory is improbable on several grounds. We have seen that the
distegia was only employed in comparatively few instances. It seems
unlikely, therefore, that an elaborate structure of this kind should have
been erected merely to meet these occasional requirements. Further than
this, if the scene had been divided in half by a horizontal line, and the
lower half had protruded several feet, this arrangement, though suitable
enough when the background was a palace, would have been absurdly
inappropriate when a country district was to be represented. It is also
questionable whether the ancient stage was wide enough to permit the
arrangement. If may have been possible in early times; but the Vitruvian
stage, which was only ten feet across, can hardly have been encroached
upon to the extent of two or three feet. It is far more probable that
the back-scene was flat from top to bottom. This supposition is more
in harmony with the simple style of the ancient scenery. As for the
distegia, it was provided most likely by a projecting balcony or upper
story, which might be introduced when required, without encroaching upon
the narrow stage. Such balconies were not uncommon in Greek and Roman
houses.[587] And that they were used in the theatre is expressly stated
by Vitruvius, who tells us that the houses in comedy were of the type
called ‘Maeniana’, or houses with projecting galleries.[588] In ordinary
cases the distegia would resemble a structure of this kind. But where the
surroundings were exceptional, as in the Lysistrata, it might easily be
decorated in such a way as to conform to the rest of the scenery.
If the scene represented a dwelling-house, there were windows in the
upper story, out of which the characters could peer upon the stage. Such
windows are mentioned by Vitruvius, and instances of their use occur in
the extant comedies. For example, Philocleon, in the Wasps, tries to
escape out of an upper window, and in the Ecclesiazusae the old woman
and the young girl are seen looking out of one.[589] It need hardly
be remarked that the doors of the building represented by the painted
scenery would correspond more or less closely with the permanent doors
in the back-wall, so as to admit of easy ingress and egress to the
actors. In the same way, if the scene was a cavern in a country region,
the entrance to the cavern would be made to correspond with the central
door in the wall at the back. Concerning the manner in which the scenery
was finished off at the top nothing can be laid down for certain. It
is not even known whether the stage was covered with a roof or not.
But the analogy of Roman theatres, and the general convenience of the
arrangement, are in favour of such a covering.[590]
§ 3. _The Entrances to the Stage._
The question as to the number and the character of the entrances leading
upon the stage is of some importance in connexion with the Greek drama.
In order to avoid confusion in dealing with this subject, it is necessary
to distinguish carefully between the permanent doors in the walls
surrounding the stage, and the temporary doors or entrances which were
left when the scenery had been put up. First, as to the permanent doors.
We have shown already that the remains of the purely Greek theatres
are so defective, that it is impossible, from the evidence which they
supply, to come to any conclusion as to the number of these doors. But
it is evident, from the statements of Pollux, that the Hellenistic type
of theatre, which is the one he describes, must have possessed at least
five such doors. It must have had three doors in the wall at the back
of the stage, and two doors at the sides, one leading from each of the
wings. Probably the same plan was adopted in the older buildings of the
fourth and fifth centuries, whether of stone or wood. In later times,
when the Graeco-Roman theatres were erected, the stage was considerably
lengthened, and in consequence the number of the doors in the wall at
the back was raised to five. But it has been pointed out in the last
chapter that in all probability only three of these doors were used in
the course of the actual performances, and that the two outer ones were
either covered over by the scenery, or concealed by temporary side-wings
of wood.[591]
The next point to be considered is the number of the entrances which
had to be provided when the scenery was erected, and the stage was made
ready for a dramatic performance. Pollux and Vitruvius, in speaking
of the scenery and stage decorations, agree in saying that there were
three doors at the back of the stage.[592] But this statement is much
too universal. In the majority of cases, no doubt, there were three such
doors. When the scene represented a palace, or temple, or dwelling-house,
three doors appear to have been always used. But when the scene was of
an exceptional character, the number of the entrances from the back of
the stage would vary according to the requirements of the play. For
instance, in the Philoctetes there would only be a single entrance, that
from the cavern. In the first part of the Ajax the only entrance would
be that leading out of the tent; in the second part there would be no
entrance at all, the background consisting merely of a solitary region
by the sea-shore. In the Cyclops, the only opening at the back of the
stage was the mouth of Polyphemus’ cave. In such plays as the Prometheus
of Aeschylus, and the Andromeda of Euripides, the background consisted
of rocks and cliffs, and there was no entrance from that quarter. It is
clear, therefore, that the statement that a Greek scene was provided with
three doors or entrances at the back is not universally true, but only
applies to the majority of cases.
Some details concerning the character of the three doors may be gathered
from the statements in Pollux and Vitruvius.[593] When the scene was
a palace, the central door was decorated with regal grandeur. The
side-doors were supposed to lead to the guest-chambers. Occasionally
one of the side-doors led to a guest-chamber, the other to a slaves’
prison. In comedy, the character and arrangement of the doors would vary
considerably, according as the scene was laid in front of one, or two, or
three dwelling-houses. In the last case, of which an example is supplied
by the Acharnians, there would be one door for each of the three houses.
Sometimes one of the side-doors represented the way into an outhouse,
or workshop, or stable. Sometimes it led into a temple, as in the
Thesmophoriazusae. In comedy, no doubt, there was much greater diversity
as to scenic details than in tragedy.
A curious regulation concerning the usage of these three doors is
mentioned by Pollux.[594] He says that the central door was reserved
for the principal character, the door to the right for the secondary
characters, the door to the left for those of least significance. It
is plain that this statement must be taken with very considerable
deductions. In the first place, it only applies to tragedy, and only
to those plays in which the background represented a palace or similar
building. Even then it cannot have been by any means universal. In fact
it only applies to dramas of the type of the Oedipus Tyrannus, in which
the principal character is at the same time a person of the highest
rank. In such cases it is very likely that his rule about the doors was
observed. It would be in harmony with the statuesque and conventional
character of Greek tragedy. But there are many plays in which it would
be absurd to suppose that any such regulation was adopted. For instance,
in the Antigone it can hardly be imagined that the tyrant Creon entered
only by a side-door, while the central door, with its regal splendour,
was reserved for the oppressed heroine Antigone. Similarly, in the
Electra, it is ridiculous to suppose that Clytaemnestra entered from the
inferior part of the palace, Electra from the more magnificent. There
can be no doubt that Pollux, in his statement about the doors, has been
following his favourite practice, and has made a general rule out of a
few special instances.
The openings at the back of the stage always led out of some building,
tent, cavern, or other dwelling-place. They could only therefore be used
by persons who were supposed to be inside the dwelling-place. People
coming from the neighbourhood, or from a distance, had to enter the
stage in a different way. For this purpose doors in the side-wings were
provided.[595] The subject of these side-entrances on to the stage has
been much discussed in recent years.[596] Many scholars have endeavoured
to prove that they were a late invention, confined to the Hellenistic
theatre, and that they never existed in the fifth century. They suppose
that in the old Athenian theatre the only side-entrances were those in
the orchestra, and that the actors who entered or departed otherwise than
through the back-scene always used the orchestra for this purpose. Now it
is no doubt true, as we have already shown, that they used it sometimes.
There are about twenty cases in which actors and chorus leave together
in a sort of procession, chiefly at the end of a play[597]; and there
are two cases in which they enter together.[598] There are also those
scenes—about five in number—when the actors enter in chariots.[599] On
all these occasions it can hardly be doubted that the actors entered
and departed through the orchestra. But the other examples which have
been brought forward are entirely conjectural. It is said that, when
the actors and the chorus were supposed to come from the same place,
they must always have used the same entrance. In the Philoctetes, for
example, Odysseus, Neoptolemus, and the chorus all come from the ship.
If, therefore, the sailors entered by the orchestra, the two heroes must
have done the same. But there is no necessity for such an assumption. It
would be absurd to demand this minute accuracy in the representation of a
play. Then there are cases where an actor on the stage sees another from
a distance; but about ten lines intervene before the second actor comes
near enough to enter into conversation with the first.[600] It is argued
that he must have had a long way to go, and must therefore have come
round by the parodos. But in all these places there is nothing to show
that the person approaching was seen by the audience as soon as he was
descried from the stage. He may have received his ‘cue’ some time after
his advent was announced. It is common enough on the modern stage, when
the scene is in the open air, for an actor’s approach to be announced
some time before he actually appears. Also, there are several cases in
the ancient dramas when an actor begins to converse with the people on
the stage only two or three lines after he is first seen.[601] These
passages might be cited to prove that he had only a short way to go, and
must therefore have come in by the stage. But in reality all inferences
of this kind are far too subtle to be of any value. We can hardly imagine
the ancient dramatists counting the number of yards to be walked before
they settled the number of verses to be spoken. Another set of instances
are those in which a character, after coming into sight, takes a long
time to reach the point he is aiming at. Euelpides and Peisthetaerus
stumble about during the delivery of fifty-three lines before they
reach the hoopoe’s dwelling-place. Dionysus and Xanthias converse for
thirty-five lines before coming to the house of Hercules.[602] They
too, it is said, must have entered by the orchestra, otherwise they
would have reached their destination much sooner. But there is no need
to suppose, in these and similar cases, that the characters were moving
straight forward all the time. Any actors of ordinary experience would
know how to arrange their progress in such a way as to come to the right
place at the right moment. Lastly, there are scenes in which an actor,
on making his entrance, fails to perceive at once another actor on the
stage; or addresses the chorus before the actor; or is seen by the chorus
before he is seen by the actor.[603] All this is said to prove that he
must have come in by the parodos, and that the other actor was at first
concealed from view by the intervening side-wings. But in the first place
the ancient stage was so low and narrow that, as soon as an actor had
fairly entered the orchestra, he could not fail to see the persons on the
stage just as well as those in the orchestra. In the second place these
arguments all depend on the same fallacy. They assume that in a dramatic
performance, when an actor comes in, the question as to whom he shall see
first, and which person he shall address first, is decided, not by the
convenience of the poet, but by the science of optics. The experience of
the modern stage is sufficient to prove that this is not the case.
It would be unsafe then to lay any stress on the instances just cited.
The cases in which there are adequate grounds for supposing that the
actors entered or departed by the orchestra amount to no more than about
thirty. The question is whether these cases are sufficient to justify
a wider inference. Are we to assume that, because the actors sometimes
used the parodoi, they did so always? On the one hand it may be said that
in the early theatre, with its low stage and easy communication between
stage and orchestra, there was nothing to stand in the way of such a
practice. On the other hand there is the fact that in the later Greek
theatre the actors, when coming from a distance, usually entered by the
side-wings.[604] Of course in this later theatre, with its twelve-foot
stage, there were obvious reasons for doing so. Still, the existence of
the practice in late times is a presumption in favour of its existence
previously. Moreover, when side-wings had once been introduced, nothing
could be more natural than to use them as entrances. The convenience to
the actors would be very great. It is difficult to see why they should
have been compelled to go all round by the parodoi when there was an
easier mode of entrance close at hand. On the whole, therefore, it seems
most probable that the side-entrances were generally used by the actors
even as early as the fifth century, and that the orchestra was only
employed in special cases, such as processions with the chorus.
As regards the use of these side-entrances the Athenians had a special
regulation which was due entirely to local causes. The theatre at Athens
was situated in such a position that the western side looked towards
the city and the harbour, the eastern side towards the open country. In
consequence of this fact the side-entrances upon the Athenian stage came
to acquire a peculiar significance. If a man entered by the western side,
it was understood that he was coming from the city where the scene of the
action was laid, or from the immediate neighbourhood; or else that he
had arrived from distant parts by sea, and was coming from the harbour.
The eastern entrance was reserved for people who had journeyed from a
distance by land. The same regulation was applied to the entrances to
the orchestra. If a chorus came from the city, or the harbour, or the
suburbs, it used the western parodos; if it came by land from a distance,
it used the eastern.[605] It is obvious that at Athens, where play-bills
were unknown, a conventional arrangement of this kind would be of great
assistance to the audience, and would enable them to follow the action
of the piece with greater ease and intelligence than they could otherwise
have done. The custom originated in the topographical situation of the
Athenian theatre, but was afterwards adopted in all other Greek theatres,
and became a conventional rule of the Greek stage. The entrances to the
right of the audience were used by persons from the neighbourhood; the
entrances to the left by persons from a distance.
§ 4. _Changes of Scene._
A change of scene during the actual progress of a play was a practice
almost unknown upon the Greek stage during the classical period. In the
extant tragedies only two instances are to be found, one in the Eumenides
of Aeschylus, the other in the Ajax of Sophocles. It does not appear
that in either case very much alteration in the scenery was required. In
the Eumenides the earlier part of the action takes place in front of the
temple of Apollo at Delphi, the latter part before the temple of Athene
at Athens.[606] All that was here necessary was to change the statue in
front of the temple. The background doubtless remained the same during
both portions of the play. There is no reason to suppose that any attempt
was made to depict the actual scenery of Delphi or of Athens. Such a
supposition would be inconsistent with the rude and undeveloped state
of scenic decoration during the Aeschylean period, and moreover minute
accuracy of that kind was foreign to the Athenian taste. In the Ajax the
play begins in front of the tent of Ajax, but ends in a solitary region
by the sea-shore. Here again a very slight alteration in the scenery
would have been sufficient. Probably in the opening scene the tent of
Ajax was represented in the centre, and there may have been some slight
suggestion of a coast view on either side. During the latter part of
the play the tent would be made to disappear, leaving only the coast
view behind. A change of this kind might have been easily carried out,
without much mechanical elaboration. It is to be noticed that in each of
the above cases, while the scenery was being changed, both orchestra and
stage were deserted by the performers. In the Eumenides it was not until
Apollo had retired into the temple, and the Furies had set out in pursuit
of Orestes, that the change from Delphi to Athens took place. Similarly
in the Ajax both Tecmessa and the chorus had disappeared in search of
Ajax before the scene was transferred to the sea-shore.
The Old Comedy was a creation of the wildest fancy, utterly unfettered
by any limitations of fact or probability. The scene of the action in
the plays shifts about from one place to another in the most irregular
fashion. All considerations of time and space are disregarded. But it
may be taken for certain that on the actual stage no attempt was made to
represent these changes of scene in a realistic manner. The scenery was
no doubt of the simplest and most unpretending character, corresponding
to the economical manner in which comedies were put upon the stage. In
all the extant plays of Aristophanes a single background would have been
sufficient. For instance, in the Frogs the action takes place partly
before the house of Hercules, partly in Hades before the house of Pluto.
The background probably represented the houses standing side by side, or
a single house may have done duty for that of Hercules and that of Pluto
in turn. The opening scene of the Acharnians takes place in the Pnyx;
the rest of the play is carried on before the houses of Dicaeopolis,
Euripides, and Lamachus. Most likely the three houses stood in a row,
the Pnyx being sufficiently represented by a few benches upon the stage.
The fact that the house of Dicaeopolis was supposed to be sometimes in
the town, and sometimes in the country, would be of very little moment
in a performance like the Old Comedy, where the realities of existence
were totally disregarded. In the Lysistrata the action is rapidly
transferred from the front of a house to the front of the Acropolis. In
the Thesmophoriazusae it takes place partly before a house, partly before
the temple of Demeter. It is not necessary, in either of these plays,
to suppose any change in the scenery. The house and the Acropolis in
the one case, and the house and temple in the other, would be depicted
as standing side by side. In the Knights the background throughout the
play consisted of the house of Demos; and the Pnyx, as in the Acharnians,
was represented by a few benches. As far then as the Old Comedy is
concerned it is probable that changes of scenery in the course of a play
were seldom or never resorted to. In the New Comedy, to judge from the
adaptations of Plautus and Terence, they appear to have been equally
infrequent.
The only appliances for changing scenery that are mentioned by the
ancient Greek writers are the ‘periaktoi’.[607] These were huge
triangular prisms, revolving on a socket at the base. Each of the three
sides of the prism consisted of a large flat surface, shaped like an
upright parallelogram. One of these prisms was placed at each end of
the stage, in such a manner as to fit in exactly with the scene at the
back, and continue it in the direction of the side-wings. Each of the
three sides was painted to represent a different view, but care was
taken that in every case the painting should coincide exactly with the
painting in the back-scene.[608] As the periaktos was turned round, it
presented a different surface to the spectators. Accordingly it was
possible, by revolving both the periaktoi, to make a change in the
character of the scenery at each end of the stage, while the scene in the
background remained the same as before. The periaktos to the right of
the audience depicted views in the immediate neighbourhood of the city
where the action was taking place. The periaktos to the left represented
a more remote country. This fact corresponds exactly with the regulation
already referred to, that the entrances to the right of the audience were
reserved for people from the immediate neighbourhood, while people from a
distance came in by the left.
The principal use of the periaktoi must have been to produce a change of
scene in cases where the prominent feature of the background remained
the same. For instance, if the action had been taking place in front of
a temple or palace, and was to be transferred to a temple or palace in a
different country, the requisite alteration might easily be carried out
by means of the periaktoi. The building in the background would remain
the same, but the scenery on each side would be altered. Occasions for
using the periaktoi might sometimes occur during the course of a single
play. But such cases, as we have seen, were extremely rare. It must have
been chiefly in the intervals between successive plays that the periaktoi
were employed. Most Greek tragedies and comedies took place before a
temple, a palace, or a private house. If therefore a series of plays was
being exhibited, it might be convenient to retain the same scene in the
background, and produce the necessary distinction between the different
plays by altering the scenery at each side. The usage of the periaktoi
was regulated by a curious conventional custom. If only one periaktos was
turned round, the alteration in the scenery was, of course, confined to
one end of the stage. This was done when the change of scene was supposed
to be a slight one, and was merely from one part of the same district to
another. But when the action was transferred to an entirely new district,
then both the periaktoi were turned round, and the scenery was changed
at each end. The representation of scenery on the periaktoi was probably
of the simple and symbolical character which marked Greek stage scenery
in general; a rock would stand for a mountainous district, a waved blue
line and a dolphin for the sea, a river god perhaps, holding a vessel
of water, for a river.[609] Besides their use in effecting a change of
scene, the periaktoi were also employed to introduce sea-gods and objects
too heavy for the mechane. It is not said how this was managed. But it
is possible that, of the two sides of the periaktos which were out of
sight of the audience, one contained a small ledge or balcony, on which
the sea-god took his stand. As the machine rolled round, he would come
suddenly into view.[610]
It is difficult to say when the periaktoi were first introduced, and
whether they were used at all during the classical period of the Greek
drama. They are mentioned by one grammarian among a list of stage
appliances which might be ascribed to Aeschylus,[611] and it is true
that they might have been used in producing the change of scene in the
Eumenides from the temple at Delphi to the temple at Athens. But they
could have been easily dispensed with. In fact, as far as the extant
Greek dramas are concerned, there are no occasions on which it is
necessary to suppose that they were used, and there are no passages in
which they are referred to.[612]
The periaktoi, as stated above, are the only appliances for changing
scenery that are mentioned in Greek writings. Servius describes another
kind of contrivance, by means of which the scene was parted asunder in
the middle, and then drawn aside in both directions, so as to disclose a
new scene behind.[613] But it is probable that this invention dated from
comparatively late times. There is nothing in the existing Greek dramas
to suggest that such a contrivance was in use during the classical period.
§ 5. _Stage Properties, &c._
In addition to the scenery in the background, the stage was of course
decorated with such objects and properties as were required by the
particular play. Aeschylus is said to have been the first to adorn the
stage in this manner.[614] If the scene was a palace or temple, statues
of the gods were generally placed in front of it, and are frequently
referred to in the course of the drama. For instance, there was the
statue of Athene in front of her temple in the Eumenides, and the statues
of the tutelary deities before the palace of the Atreidae in the Electra
of Sophocles. In the Hippolytus there were two statues in front of the
palace of Theseus, one of Artemis the huntress, and the other of Cypris,
the goddess of love. When Hippolytus returns from the hunt, he offers
a garland of flowers to the statue of Artemis, but refuses to pay any
homage to the statue of Cypris, in spite of the remonstrances of his
attendant. Again, in the country region depicted in the Oedipus Coloneus
the statue of the hero Colonus stood in a conspicuous position.[615]
Other examples of the practice of decorating the stage with statues are
often to be met with both in tragedy and in comedy. Altars, again, were
very common objects upon the Greek stage. In the Supplices of Aeschylus
the fugitive maidens take refuge round an altar. The Oedipus Tyrannus
opens with the spectacle of a group of Thebans kneeling in supplication
before the altar of Apollo.[616] Another constant feature in the stage
decoration was the stone obelisk in honour of Apollo of the Highways. It
was an ordinary practice among the Greeks to place such obelisks in front
of their houses. Their presence upon the stage is often referred to by
the dramatic poets.[617] Various other objects were occasionally required
by particular plays. There was the tomb of Darius in the Persae, and the
tomb of Agamemnon in the Choephori. In the Oedipus Coloneus a rocky ledge
was needed for Oedipus to rest himself upon. In the Acharnians and the
Knights a few benches must have been erected upon the stage to serve as
a rude imitation of the Pnyx. Walls, watch-towers, and beacon-towers are
mentioned by Pollux; and the presence of other similar decorations and
erections can be inferred from the extant tragedies and comedies.[618]
There was one piece of realism which the Greeks were not averse to,
and that was the presence of horses and chariots in the theatre. We
have already referred to the instances in tragedy where persons from
a distance arrive in chariots drawn by horses or mules. The vast size
of the Greek theatre made it peculiarly suitable for displays of this
character. In the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, Agamemnon and Cassandra
approach the palace in a chariot; Agamemnon remains seated there for
a considerable time, while he converses with Clytaemnestra; he then
dismounts and enters the palace, leaving Cassandra still in the chariot.
In the Electra of Euripides, when Clytaemnestra comes to visit her
daughter at the country cottage, she arrives in a chariot, accompanied by
Trojan maidens, who assist her to dismount.[619] Animals for riding were
also occasionally introduced. In the Prometheus there is the winged steed
upon which Oceanus makes his entrance; and in the Frogs of Aristophanes
Xanthias rides in upon a donkey.[620]
§ 6. _The Ekkyklema._
Several mechanical contrivances are mentioned in connexion with the Greek
stage. The most peculiar of these, and the one most alien to all our
modern notions of stage illusion, is the ekkyklema.[621] We have seen
that in a Greek theatre the action always took place in the open air,
before some temple or dwelling-place. It was impossible to transfer the
scene to the inside of the building because of the continual presence
of the chorus in the orchestra. Still, it might sometimes happen that
a powerful dramatic effect could be produced, if a deed accomplished
indoors was exposed to view. The most natural way of doing this would
have been to draw aside the back-scene, and reveal a portion of the
interior. But in the Greek theatre, owing to the narrowness of the
stage-buildings, such a device was hardly practicable. Even if the
stage-buildings had been made deeper, there were obvious objections in
the way. The relative position of the auditorium and the stage was such
that, if a room had been opened out behind the back-scene, a large part
of the audience would not have been able to see into it. In any case,
the back part of the room would have been almost in the dark. Further
than this, the whole arrangement was far too elaborate for the simple
notions of the ancient stage-managers. For these reasons a more primitive
device was adopted. Scenes inside the house or palace were revealed by
means of the ekkyklema. This was a small wooden platform, rolling upon
wheels, which was kept inside the stage-buildings. When it was required
to be used, one of the doors in the background was thrown open, and it
was pushed forward on to the stage. Upon it was arranged a group of
figures, representing in a sort of tableau the deed or occurrence which
had just taken place inside the building. It was mostly used in cases
where a murder had been committed. The ekkyklema was rolled out upon
the stage, and on it were seen the corpses of the murdered persons, the
murderers standing beside them with the bloody weapons in their hands. It
might be rolled through any of the three doors at the back of the stage.
The contrivance was of course a purely conventional one, due to the
necessities of the Greek theatre. All pretence of realism and illusion
was abandoned. But this was a point on which the Greeks did not lay very
much stress. In such matters custom is everything. To a modern spectator,
used to elaborate stage effects, the device would appear intolerable. But
the Greeks, living at a time when stage decoration was in its infancy,
were less exacting in their demands. And when they had once accepted the
ekkyklema as a conventional contrivance for exhibiting interiors their
plastic genius would enable them to use it to the best advantage. The
sudden spectacle of the murderer standing beside his victim’s body, with
the instrument of death in his hands, might easily be formed into a most
impressive tableau.
The ekkyklema was probably invented towards the middle of the fifth
century, about the time when the actor’s booth was first converted
into a regular back-scene. It is used twice in the Oresteia. In the
Agamemnon, after the murder has been committed, the platform rolls out,
and reveals the person of Clytaemnestra, standing over the dead bodies
of Agamemnon and Cassandra. In the Choephori there is a parallel scene.
Orestes is brought into view standing beside the bodies of Aegisthus
and Clytaemnestra, and pointing to the net in which his father had been
entangled and slaughtered many years ago. He is seized with frenzy,
descends from the ekkyklema, and hastens away to the temple of Apollo at
Delphi. The platform is then withdrawn into the palace.[622] During the
rest of the century there are many instances of the use of the ekkyklema
in tragedy. In the Ajax the interior of the tent is exposed to view by
this contrivance; and at the end of the Antigone the body of Eurydice is
exhibited, lying beside the altar at which she has stabbed herself. In
the Hippolytus, after the suicide of Phaedra, her dead body is displayed
upon the ekkyklema, and Theseus takes from it the letter in which she
makes her charge against Hippolytus. In the Electra of Sophocles the
door is thrown open at the command of Aegisthus, and the platform rolls
out and exhibits Orestes and Pylades standing beside the corpse of
Clytaemnestra, which is covered with a cloth. Aegisthus himself removes
the cloth, and then Orestes and Pylades descend to the stage, and the
platform is drawn back again. In the Hecuba the sons of Polymestor, who
have been slaughtered inside the tent, are made visible to the spectators
by means of the ekkyklema. In the Hercules Furens Hercules is exhibited
lying prostrate between the bodies of his wife and children, with his
face covered up, and his limbs chained to the broken column which he had
thrown down in his frenzy. Amphitryon then comes out of the palace, and
loosens his chains. Later on Theseus arrives, and uncovers his face and
helps him to rise. He then descends to the stage, and the ekkyklema is
rolled back into the palace. Lastly, in the Electra of Euripides, the
bodies of Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra are shown to the audience by means
of this device.[623]
The ekkyklema is also occasionally used in Comedy. Aristophanes, on two
occasions, employs it in a burlesque sort of way, when he is introducing
tragic poets on the stage. In the Thesmophoriazusae, Euripides and
Mnesilochus call at the house of Agathon to borrow some female clothing.
Agathon is rolled out on the ekkyklema, lends them some articles which
are brought to him from inside the house, and then, when he is tired
of their importunity, orders himself to be ‘rolled in again as fast as
possible’. In the Acharnians Dicaeopolis goes to the house of Euripides
to borrow a tragic dress. Euripides is upstairs in his study writing
tragedies, and cannot come down, but allows himself to be rolled out, and
supplies the necessary dresses.[624] These two passages in Aristophanes,
where the mechanism of the apparatus is carefully emphasized in order
to add to the ridicule, are very valuable as evidence concerning the
structure of the ekkyklema. The device is also used in the Clouds to show
the inside of the phrontisterion. The disciples of Socrates are seen
hard at work on their studies, with globes, diagrams, black-boards, and
other scholastic materials round about them. In the Knights, when the
Propylaea is thrown open, and reveals a vision of ancient Athens, with
Demos dressed up in the antique style, the spectacle may possibly have
been produced by means of the ekkyklema.[625]
From the examples of the use of the ekkyklema which have just been
cited we may gather some further particulars as to its character and
construction. It appears that persons upon the ekkyklema could easily
descend to the stage, and that persons on the stage could easily touch
those on the ekkyklema. It follows that it must have been a low platform,
not much above the level of the stage. As regards its length and breadth,
it was evidently large enough to support several persons. At the same
time it cannot have been of any very great size. Its width must have been
less than the width of the doors in the background, to permit of its
being rolled through them. Its depth cannot have been very great, because
of the narrowness of the Greek stage. In the Acharnians, when Euripides
is rolled out, he is represented as still sitting in his room upstairs.
But it is unlikely, as some suppose, that in this case the platform was
made taller than usual, to produce the effect of an upper story. As
Euripides has to hand various articles to Dicaeopolis, who is standing on
the stage, there cannot have been much difference of level between the
two. The exact mechanism of the ekkyklema, however, remains uncertain.
It is practically undisputed that the grooves or rails found at Eretria,
running on to the later stage straight from its back-scene were intended
for some such contrivance to run on.[626] On the other hand it has been
argued from the use of certain words in the scholiast’s descriptions
that the ekkyklema must have revolved on a pivot,[627] and it has been
suggested that the mechanism was like that of which a diagram is given in
the accompanying figure, where _ss_ is the stage, _ww_ the back-scene,
_a_ shows the ekkyklema at rest and not in use, _b_ shows it in process
of being rolled round for use, _c_ shows it after being rolled out. This,
however, finds no confirmation in anything in the ruins; the straight
rails at Eretria are against it, and the words referred to may be
explained by the use of a windlass or similar mechanism used in rolling
out the ekkyklema. Judging from the width of the rails at Eretria, the
width of the ekkyklema may have been about ten feet, and the doors must
therefore have been rather larger. The suggested revolving ekkyklema
might afford more standing room, but there is not sufficient evidence of
its existence.
[Illustration: FIG. 14 A.]
In addition to the passages already mentioned, there are two other
places in the extant dramas where the scholiasts say that the ekkyklema
was employed. But they appear to have been mistaken in both cases. The
first instance is in the Thesmophoriazusae. The action of this play
begins before Agathon’s house, but after about three hundred lines is
transferred to the front of Demeter’s temple, where the women hold their
assembly. At this point there is a stage-direction to say that ‘the
Thesmophorion is rolled out’.[628] If these words mean that the scene was
laid in the interior of the temple, and that the ekkyklema was rolled
out in order to represent it, the suggestion is undoubtedly wrong. It
would be absurd to imagine that the rest of the play was transacted on a
small platform like the ekkyklema. But possibly the author of the note
was referring, not to the ekkyklema, but to some mechanism by which he
believed that the necessary change of scene was brought about. The second
place is the well-known scene at the beginning of the Eumenides.[629]
The play opens with the speech of the priestess, delivered in front
of the temple. Then, when she departs, the interior of the temple is
suddenly brought into view, and shows us Orestes kneeling before the
altar, with the sleeping Furies round about him, and Apollo and Hermes
standing close by. To suppose, as the scholiast suggests, that this
effect was produced by the ekkyklema, is hardly possible. The platform
would have been far too small to accommodate a whole tragic chorus,
together with three actors. At the same time, though the explanation of
the scholiast appears impracticable, it is difficult to suggest any other
way in which the scene might have been acted. We cannot assume that the
back-scene was drawn apart, and disclosed the inside of the temple in a
set-piece, after the modern fashion. This mode of revealing interiors was
apparently never used on the Greek stage. If it had been possible, there
would have been no need to invent the ekkyklema. It has been suggested
that the spectacle was not really exhibited to the audience; that Apollo,
Hermes, and Orestes appeared alone in front of the temple; that the ghost
of Clytaemnestra called to the Furies through the temple door; and that
it was not until then that the Furies came into sight, rushing out in
obedience to her summons. But the general character of the scene, and
the expressions used in the course of the dialogue, appear to be fatal
to this supposition.[630] In fact, the difficulty is one for which no
satisfactory solution has yet been found.
The ekkyklema seems to our notions such a rude device, that many critics
have been led to deny its existence, at any rate during the classical
period. They allow that it must have been used in later times, as it is
described in detail by Pollux: but they refuse to believe that it could
have been tolerated by the Athenians of the fifth century.[631] The
evidence, however, in its favour is too strong to be set aside in this
way. The passages in which it is parodied by Aristophanes correspond so
closely with the descriptions of Pollux that they must obviously refer
to the same mechanical device.[632] There are also the numerous other
scenes in which an interior is revealed. It is difficult to see how the
Greeks, with their peculiar stage arrangements, could have acted these
scenes, except by some such contrivance as the ekkyklema. Those who deny
its existence explain away these passages in various ways. They say that
in many cases the bodies might have been carried out on to the stage, or
arranged just outside the door, so as to be visible to the spectators.
On other occasions they suppose that the back-scene was drawn aside,
and showed the interior of the building. But there are several scenes
to which none of these explanations would apply. In the Hercules Furens
Hercules is shown chained to the broken column, and we cannot suppose
that the column was carried out on to the stage. Nor can the spectacle
have been exhibited inside the palace front. It must have been outside;
since Amphitryon, as soon as Hercules begins to rouse himself, proposes
to fly within the palace for refuge.[633] In the same way the scholars
of Socrates cannot have been carried out, along with their globes and
diagrams. Yet they too must have appeared upon the stage, and not inside
the building; for it is explained to Strepsiades that they cannot remain
long ‘in the open air outside’.[634] It is impossible, therefore, to
account for these and other scenes in the way suggested.[635] They must
have been effected by the ekkyklema. As for the objection that the
ekkyklema was a device too clumsy for the refined taste of the fifth
century, though admissible in later times, this is a kind of argument
which is not supported by experience. The history of the drama in many
countries shows that the greatest literary and dramatic excellence
may coexist with the utmost simplicity and clumsiness in the stage
arrangements. It was so in England and it was so in France. The drama of
these two countries reached its highest point at a period when the art of
stage decoration was in a most primitive condition. On general grounds it
would be more reasonable to assume that the ekkyklema was impossible to
the Hellenistic Greeks, than that it was impossible to the Greeks of the
time of Sophocles. If the former could tolerate it, the latter are not
likely to have made any difficulty.
A contrivance called the exostra is occasionally referred to by the
grammarians, and is mentioned in a Delian inscription of the third
century B.C. The name implies that it was something which was ‘pushed
out’ upon the stage. The metaphorical use of the word in Polybius and
Cicero proves it to have been a platform on which objects were exhibited
in a conspicuous manner. It is probable, therefore, that the statement
of the ancient writers is correct, and that the exostra was merely the
ekkyklema under another name.[636]
§ 7. _The Mechane and Theologeion._
Another appliance of even greater importance than the ekkyklema, and
one very frequently employed upon the Greek stage, was the ‘mechane’ or
Machine.[637] It consisted of a sort of crane with a pulley attached,
by which weights could be raised or lowered. It was placed in the left
or western corner of the stage, at the very top of the back-scene. It
was used when the characters of a play had to appear or disappear in a
supernatural manner. By its means a god or hero could be lowered from
heaven down to earth, or raised up from earth to heaven, or exhibited
motionless in mid-air. Sometimes the god was represented as sitting
in a chariot, or on a winged steed; but in most cases he was simply
suspended from the rope by means of a hook and bands fastened round his
body. The strength of the mechane must have been considerable, since it
was powerful enough to support two or three people at the same time. As
to the way in which it was worked, and the manner in which the actors
were made to disappear from view at the top of the stage, there is no
information. Unfortunately the construction of the upper part of the
stage-buildings is a subject about which we are entirely ignorant. It
is useless therefore to hazard conjectures concerning the exact nature
of the arrangements adopted. The grammarians also speak of two other
contrivances, the Crane and the Fig-branch, as used for moving people
through the air. But whether they were really distinct from the mechane
is far from certain. The Fig-branch is said to have been designed
specially for comedy. It appears, however, from the description to have
been much the same as the mechane, and was probably only a comic name
for it.[638] The Crane is described as an instrument for conveying the
bodies of dead heroes up into the sky. Possibly the Crane also was merely
another name for the mechane; or it may have been a separate contrivance,
placed at the other end of the back-scene, and used exclusively for the
removal of dead bodies. In any case it cannot have differed very much
from the mechane in structure.[639] There are one or two passages in the
ancient writers where the mechane is described as a ‘kind of ekkyklema’,
and persons are said to have been rolled out by means of it.[640] It is
uncertain in these cases whether the grammarians are confusing the two
machines; or whether they are thinking of the theologeion, which, as we
shall see later on, may have been worked by mechanism similar to that of
the ekkyklema.
Examples of the use of the mechane are fairly common both in the extant
dramas and in the records of the grammarians. At the same time there is
often a doubt, when a personage makes his appearance on high, whether
he was exhibited by means of this device or in some other way. For the
present, therefore, we will confine ourselves to those cases where the
person is described as moving through the air, and where it seems clear
that, if any machinery was employed, it must have been the mechane. The
earliest instance is probably that in the Prometheus. Oceanus descends
on a ‘winged quadruped’, converses some time with Prometheus, and then
rides away again, saying as he goes that his steed yearns to ‘skim
with its wings the smooth paths of air’. We are told also that in the
Psychostasia, the lost play of Aeschylus, the body of Memnon was carried
by Dawn into the sky.[641] Both these instances have been doubted,
but merely on general grounds, and without adequate reason. But there
are two other supposed examples in Aeschylus which are far more open
to question. There is the scene in the Eumenides where Athene arrives
from Troas, and where it is thought that she descends from the sky. The
language, however, in which she describes her journey is ambiguous and
full of difficulty. In three successive lines she appears to say that
she has walked, flown, and driven in a chariot.[642] It would be unsafe
in a case like this to draw any inference as to the exact manner in
which she made her entrance on to the stage. There is also the scene in
the Prometheus where the Oceanides enter in a ‘winged car’, halt in
front of Prometheus for about a hundred and fifty lines, and then, at
his bidding, dismount from their ‘swift-rushing seat’ and descend into
the orchestra.[643] Here, too, the mechane has been suggested. But it is
scarcely credible that a whole tragic chorus should have been suspended
in front of Prometheus during the delivery of a hundred and fifty
lines. Even if the machinery had been strong enough to support twelve
or fifteen choristers, the spectacle would have been ludicrous.[644] It
is much better to suppose that the car was rolled in along the stage,
its previous flight being left to the imagination of the spectators.
After the time of Aeschylus there are many instances of the use of the
mechane. Euripides often employs it to wind up his plays. At the end of
the Andromache Thetis comes into view ‘voyaging through the bright air’.
At the end of the Electra the Dioscuri arrive by a ‘path impossible to
mortals’, and depart later on ‘through the regions of the sky’. Medea’s
appearance with her children in the aerial car may be safely regarded
as a further example, though there is no mention in this case of any
ascent or descent.[645] The device is also introduced in other parts of
a play. In the Hercules Furens Iris and Lyssa come down from heaven in a
chariot; then Iris re-ascends, while Lyssa goes on into the palace. In
the Bellerophon the hero rode up to heaven on the winged steed Pegasus;
and in the Andromeda Perseus flew down through the air to the foot of the
cliff where the heroine was chained.[646] The mechane is also parodied
in many places by Aristophanes. In the Clouds, Socrates is seen hanging
in a basket in mid-air, and studying astronomy. Iris, in the Birds,
comes floating down from the sky in such an irregular and eccentric
fashion that Peisthetaerus has the greatest difficulty in bringing her
to a standstill. In a fragment of the Daedalus the actor who is going to
ascend entreats the man in charge of the machinery to give him warning,
before he begins to haul up the rope, by exclaiming ‘hail, light of the
sun’. The ascent of Trygaeus upon a beetle in the Peace was intended as a
parody upon the Bellerophon of Euripides. The speech of Trygaeus, in the
course of his aerial journey, consists of a ludicrous mixture of phrases
from the Bellerophon, shouts to the beetle to keep his head straight, and
terrified appeals to the stage-manager to look after the security of the
pulley.[647]
In addition to the mechane there was also another appliance in
use upon the Greek stage for the purpose of exhibiting gods in a
supernatural manner. It was called the theologeion, and represented
the gods as stationary in heaven, and not as moving through the air.
It consisted, apparently, of a narrow platform in the upper part of
the back-scene.[648] Probably it was similar in construction to the
ekkyklema, and was usually invisible, but was pushed forward through
an opening at the back when required. It has been suggested that the
theologeion was in reality nothing more than the palace roof. But this
theory is hardly a plausible one. When the gods were to be exhibited
in celestial splendour in the sky, it would have been undignified and
incongruous to place them on the roof of a human habitation. Also the
position of the theologeion is expressly described as being high up
above the stage.[649] As regards its usage, the only recorded instance
is that in the Psychostasia of Aeschylus. Zeus was there represented as
sitting in heaven, holding scales in his hands, in which were placed the
destinies of Achilles and Memnon respectively. On each side of him stood
Thetis and Dawn, supplicating for the lives of their sons. The scene
was in imitation of that in the Iliad, where Zeus weighs the fates of
Achilles and Hector.[650] It is probable that the theologeion was also
used in the Peace, in the scene where Trygaeus ascends to heaven, and
converses with Hermes in front of the palace of Zeus.[651]
The relationship between the theologeion and the mechane has been much
discussed during the last few years, and various theories have been
brought forward on the subject. Some of the critics think the mechane
was the older and more primitive device, and that the theologeion was
invented towards the end of the fifth century, to serve as a substitute,
and avoid the awkwardness of the previous arrangement.[652] Others take
exactly the opposite view, and regard the theologeion as the simple
contrivance of the early drama, and the mechane as a later and more
picturesque piece of machinery.[653] Neither of these views can be
maintained except by a somewhat arbitrary treatment of the evidence. We
have clear testimony as to the existence both of the mechane and of the
theologeion in the time of Aeschylus; and it seems uncritical to reject
this testimony in the one case, and accept it in the other. As regards
the question of priority, it is impossible to come to any decision,
owing to the paucity of the early dramas which have been preserved.
But there is one point which deserves consideration. We have seen that
there are several cases at the close of a play in which the mechane was
unquestionably used to introduce the god who solved the difficulties
of the plot. The god’s arrival is described in language which leaves
no doubt upon the subject. But there are many other cases in which he
appears for a similar purpose, and in which he is simply described as
standing in some elevated position, and nothing is said about any flight
through the air.[654] There are also several plays at the end of which
the god appears abruptly, without any notice as to his standing-place,
or the manner in which he arrived; but in which it is evident, from the
analogy of the other dramas, that he appeared above the heads of the
ordinary actors.[655] In both these latter classes of play there is some
uncertainty as to the nature of the machinery employed. The question
may be raised whether, when there is no mention of any movement through
the air, the god was introduced by the mechane or by the theologeion.
Was he floated down from the sky, or pushed out through the back-scene?
Some scholars maintain that the theologeion was the device used in
these particular cases; and the supposition is no doubt possible. But,
on the other hand, the fact that there is no allusion to the mechane
in the course of the dialogue proves nothing as to its presence or
its absence. There are many places in which, though the ekkyklema was
obviously employed, the text contains no reference to it. Also it is
clear that from the beginning of the fourth century the mechane became
the regular contrivance for introducing gods at the close of a drama.
Plato remarks that the tragedians, when in a difficulty, ‘have recourse
to the mechane, and suspend their gods in mid-air.’ Antiphanes, the comic
poet, ridicules the practice of hanging out the mechane at the end of a
tragedy. Aristotle speaks of the mechane as the invariable device on such
occasions. The phrase ‘deus ex machina’ appears already in the fourth
century as a proverbial expression for an unexpected benefactor.[656]
It seems more probable, therefore, that the mechane was regularly used,
even in the fifth century, for the same purpose. We have several cases in
which it must have been so employed, and none in which it is necessary
to introduce the theologeion. The only known example of the use of the
theologeion is that in the Psychostasia. Any further cases in which its
presence is assumed must be purely conjectural.
Before leaving this subject a few remarks may be made on the general
question of the appearances of the gods in tragedy. In the early
drama the gods often played an important part in the action of the
piece. They came down to earth and mixed with mankind after the old
Homeric fashion. Their arrivals and departures might be conducted in a
supernatural manner, but when they were once on the stage they moved
about like ordinary human beings. Such is still the case in plays like
the Eumenides of Aeschylus. But later on, as the tone of the drama became
more entirely human, the gods began to be excluded more and more from any
real share in the plot. Their occasional presence at the scene of action
was managed with more dignity and splendour. It is rare to find them
appearing side by side with human beings, as Athene apparently does in
the Rhesus and in the opening scene of the Ajax.[657] The Bacchae is an
exceptional case, since Dionysus is there disguised as a young man. But
usually, in the later drama, the intervention of the gods was restricted
to the beginning and the end of the play, when they came forward to
speak the prologue and the epilogue. In such cases they no longer join
with mortal men in the free and easy intercourse of the Homeric period.
Their movements are more dignified and celestial. It is true that in the
prologues, when they are alone, and no human beings have yet intruded
on the stage, they make their entrance on foot, and walk the earth like
ordinary men.[658] But at the end of the play, when the stage is occupied
by mortals, they disdain to tread the same ground with them, and are
exhibited in the sky by means of the mechane. Even in the prologues it
appears that the same practice was introduced in the course of the fourth
century, and that henceforth all apparitions of the gods, both at the
beginning and the end of a play, were made equally supernatural.[659]
This formal introduction of deities at the beginning and the close, which
was now practically the sole survivor of the old divine participation
in the drama, is the subject of a well-known criticism by Aristotle.
He allows that it is perfectly legitimate, when the gods are carefully
excluded from the action, and are brought in merely to give information
about the past, or to predict the future. But he strongly censures the
later practice of employing them at the end of a tragedy to solve the
difficulties of the plot. He says that in a well-constructed play the
conclusions should be the natural result of the preceding incidents, and
there should be no need of any supernatural agency.[660] Euripides has
generally been regarded as the chief offender against his rule, and as
the author of the custom which he condemns. But it will be found, on
examining his plays, that there are very few of them in which the god is
really used as a last resort. There are only two instances in which he
can be said to solve the problems of the situation. In the other cases
he is introduced, not so much to set matters right, as to inform the
characters of the destiny which awaits them. His function is confined to
announcing the future course of events.[661] These, therefore, are what
Aristotle would call permissible uses of the ‘deus ex machina’.
§ 8. _Other Mechanical Contrivances._
Several other devices in use upon the Attic stage are briefly mentioned
by Pollux, but his descriptions are so meagre and obscure that little
can be inferred as to their exact character. Charon’s Steps was a
contrivance for bringing ghosts and spectres up from the other world. It
can hardly have been anything else than a flight of steps leading out
upon the stage from underneath. The ‘anapiesma’ was used by river-gods,
Furies, and other subterranean beings for the purpose of appearing above
ground. The word ‘anapiesma’ seems to mean something which was pushed
back. It is probable, therefore, that the contrivance was merely the
ordinary trap-door of the modern theatre, through which the spectral
being was raised on to the stage.[662] Whether these two devices were
used as early as the fifth century is somewhat doubtful. There are
few occasions in the extant plays and fragments where they would have
been serviceable, and none where they are absolutely necessary. The
ghost of Darius in the Persae arises out of his tomb, and the ghost of
Achilles in the lost Polyxena of Sophocles apparently revealed himself
in the same way.[663] In these two cases it is needless to suppose any
special apparatus beyond the tomb itself. The ghost of Clytaemnestra in
the Eumenides, and that of Polydorus in the Hecuba, may possibly have
risen from underground. But there is nothing in the text of the plays
to show that this was the case, and an entrance in the ordinary manner
would have satisfied all requirements. Some critics suppose that in
the Prometheus the punishment which had been threatened by Hermes was
actually carried out before the eyes of the spectators, and that the
tragedy ended with the disappearance of Prometheus beneath the stage. But
a melodramatic conclusion of this kind seems far from probable, and out
of keeping with the character of the ancient drama. It is more likely
that when the play was over the actor simply walked off the stage, or was
concealed from view by a curtain. Or he may have remained in position
until the beginning of the next piece, the Prometheus Unbound, in which
he was again represented as chained to a cliff. The ‘bronteion’ was a
device for imitating the noise of thunder behind the scenes, and was of
a very simple character. Pebbles were poured out of a jar into a large
brazen vessel; bags were filled with stones and flung against a metal
surface; or leaden balls were dropped upon a sheet of leather stretched
tight.[664] The ‘keraunoskopeion’ was obviously intended to imitate
lightning, though the description in Pollux is unintelligible. But Heron,
the mathematician, speaks of a device used in automaton theatres, by
which a plank, with a flash of lightning painted on a dark background,
was shot out of a box into a receptacle below. Possibly Pollux may be
alluding to an arrangement of this kind.[665] The ‘stropheion’ was some
sort of revolving machinery, by which heroes were exhibited in heaven,
or deaths at sea or in battle were represented. The ‘hemikyklion’ was
semicircular in shape, and gave a distant view of a city, or of a person
swimming in the sea. The ‘hemistrophion’ is merely mentioned by name, and
no description of it is appended.[666]
The question whether a drop-scene was used in the Athenian theatre
during the great period of the drama is one which has not yet been
satisfactorily settled. In Roman theatres a drop-scene was invariably
used between the different plays, the mechanism being exactly the reverse
of that employed in modern times. When a play was going to begin, the
curtain was let down into a narrow crevice in front of the stage, and
at the end of the performance was drawn up again.[667] There can be
no doubt that similar curtains were used in Greek theatres at a later
period; but the question is whether they were used at Athens during the
fifth and fourth centuries. There are no references to anything of the
kind in the extant Greek dramas, and there are no passages in ancient
writers which can be held to prove the existence of a drop-scene in the
early Athenian theatre.[668] The question must therefore be discussed
on general grounds. To our modern notions a drop-scene appears to be
almost a necessity in the case of plays which commence with the actors
already in position upon the stage. In the Greek drama such plays are not
infrequent. For instance, in the opening scene of the Oedipus Tyrannus
the Thebans are discovered kneeling at the altar before the palace of the
king. In the Troades, when Poseidon comes forward to speak the prologue,
he sees Hecuba stretched upon the ground in an attitude of despair. The
Orestes of Euripides opens with Orestes stretched upon a bed in front
of the palace, and his sister Electra watching beside him. Many other
examples might be cited of plays which begin with the actors already in
a fixed position. Unless, therefore, a drop-scene was used between the
plays, it would have to be supposed that the actors came on the stage in
full view of the people, took up the required position, and then began
the dialogue. There would be a great sacrifice of illusion in such a
mode of commencement. Besides this, the drop-scene would of course be
a natural and obvious mode of concealing the stage from view while the
scenery was being altered between the different plays. For these reasons
it has been inferred that the Athenians cannot have done without one.
But, on the other hand, it has already been pointed out that it is a
great mistake to apply our modern notions of propriety to an ancient
dramatic performance. The Greeks did not lay very much stress upon
realism and illusion in their scenic arrangements. They were satisfied
with simple and conventional methods of representing events upon the
stage. Such devices as the ekkyklema and the periaktoi would never have
been tolerated by them, if their aim had been to produce an illusion by
the accurate imitation of real objects. Hence it is possible that in the
dramas just referred to they were quite content for the actors to come
forward and take up their position in full view of the audience, before
the play actually commenced. That such a supposition is not inadmissible
is proved by the custom of the early English drama. On the Elizabethan
stage we know for a fact that there was no drop-scene, and that in many
cases a tableau had to be arranged before the eyes of the spectators
before the action could begin. Yet the audience of those days was not
dissatisfied. The Athenians may have been equally indifferent in the
matter of the drop-scene. At the same time there is no evidence to prove
that such was the case. And the drop-scene is a very convenient device,
and one that would naturally suggest itself. On the whole therefore
it seems safest, until further evidence is forthcoming, to regard the
question as an open one.[669]