GREEK TRAGEDY
IN
THE LIGHT OF VASE PAINTINGS
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
(_Size, about 1 ∶ 9_)
MEDEIA AMPHORA IN THE OLD PINAKOTHEK, MUNICH
(_Vid. p. 145 ff._)
]
GREEK TRAGEDY
IN
THE LIGHT OF VASE PAINTINGS
BY
JOHN H. HUDDILSTON
B.A. (HARV.), PH.D. (MUNICH)
FORMERLY INSTRUCTOR IN GREEK IN THE NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY AUTHOR OF
‘THE ESSENTIALS OF NEW TESTAMENT GREEK’ AND ‘THE ATTITUDE OF THE GREEK
TRAGEDIANS TOWARD ART’
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1898
Oxford
HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
TO
PROFESSOR CARL RIEMENSCHNEIDER, PH.D.
GERMAN WALLACE COLLEGE
BEREA, OHIO
WHOSE RARE CLASSICAL SCHOLARSHIP
IS ALL TOO LITTLE KNOWN
THIS VOLUME
BY ONE OF HIS FORMER PUPILS
IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED
Πλὴν ὁ Σιμωνίδης τὴν μὲν ζωγραφίαν ποίησιν σιωπῶσαν προσαγορεύει, τὴν
δὲ ποίησιν, ζωγραφίαν λαλοῦσαν· ἃς γὰρ οἱ ζωγράφοι πράξεις ὁς
γινομένας δεικνύουσι, ταύτας οἱ λόγοι γεγενημένας διηγοῦνται καὶ
συγγράφουσιν.
PLUTARCH, _De Gloria Athen._, c. 3.
Nec mirum, si ista, quae tamen in aliquo posita sunt motu, tantum in
animis valent, cum pictura, tacens opus et habitus semper eiusdem, sic
in intimos penetrat adfectus, ut ipsam vim dicendi nonnumquam superare
videatur.
QUINTILIAN, _Inst. Orat._, xi. 3. 67.
PREFACE
Although the archaeologists and mythologists constitute for the most
part the number of those seriously concerned with Greek vases, there
still remain many engaged in the study of Greek literature for whom the
vases are bound to possess an abiding value, since they often relate the
stories that Homer, Pindar, Aischylos, and Euripides tell. One may find
on vases of the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries B.C. illustrations
for not a few of the famous pieces in Greek poetry. The paintings may
have been an outgrowth of the common stock of legendary tales, having
their origin in the folk-lore, and in such cases they are independent of
the written literature and go along, so to speak, parallel with the work
of the poets, who drew from the same source. These paintings are
valuable as illustrations of the myths, quite apart from any literary
version of the same. Another class still more interesting, perhaps, owe
their origin to some particular poem or play, and are to be taken as
direct products of the poets’ work. Such are of prime importance for one
who would understand the poet thoroughly.
The first class of paintings of the latter sort are based on Homer and
the Cyclic poets. After the epic literature, the tragic drama became the
chief formative force in Greek legend and its representation in art. Yet
here again, as in the case of the Cyclic poets, one is compelled to
interpret paintings inspired by works that have come down to us either
as mere names or in a few wretched fragments. The relation of these
monuments to the lost literature is of paramount importance, but the
investigation is beset with many obstacles and will continue to be
largely a field for the specialist. _Extant_ tragedy and vase paintings,
however, come together at so many points, and the former is so illumined
by the latter, that every student of the classics should become
acquainted with at least this part of Greek ceramics.
The present work represents an attempt to bring this material together
in a convenient and accessible form. The first chapter, which deals with
the influence of tragedy on other classes of monuments, is meant to be
suggestive, not exhaustive; if I shall have succeeded here in setting
the student to think along some new lines that in the end will place him
in more direct touch with antiquity, and help him to a better
understanding of Greek tragic poetry and the part it played in the
artistic life of the Greeks and Romans, my aim will have been achieved.
The foot-notes all the way through are intended to contain somewhat full
references to the literature of the different topics, and to be a sort
of guide to one who desires to prosecute this study further.
In dealing with even the subject of vase paintings and extant tragedy,
it was not possible to omit saying a word regarding the general question
of the earliest influence of the drama upon the vase painters; this has
been done, however, very briefly, and is no more than a sketch. Some may
think that the subject is disposed of too quickly; many pages, indeed,
might have been written to advantage on this much mooted point, but this
would have required going far aside from the task which I set myself;
and, further, it did not seem wise to encumber the work with a
discussion necessarily of a nature to appeal to the archaeologist rather
than to the student of Aischylos and Euripides. It is the latter’s needs
that have been uppermost in my mind, and it will be found that I have
written for him first and for the archaeologist second.
My aim has been to collect and publish all paintings that can with a
high degree of probability be said to be inspired by any of the extant
tragedies, and to unfold the relation of the two to each other in such a
way as to throw the greatest possible light upon the interpretation of
the literature. Many of the publications where one can find these
paintings are so expensive and inaccessible that but a comparatively
small number of classical students can make any use of the original
works; the result is that this important class of monuments has been
very little used by philologists. Wherever it seemed necessary, synopses
of the plays have been given, and these will place the student in
possession of everything required for a full appreciation of the
reproductions. Reference has been made to other monuments representing
scenes based on the plays, so that there is in fact a sort of
archaeological commentary for those who care to go further and examine
the general influence of the poet over the artist. It should be borne in
mind, however, that I have not been concerned with the myths involved
except in so far as they were _the_ forms invented or followed by the
tragedians. To be sure, opinions will not be unanimous regarding the
interpretation of some of the paintings, but wherever I have not felt
sure of the debt of the artist to a given play I have preferred not to
publish the work; some such are mentioned in a separate chapter, where
reference is also made to the literature. My endeavour has been to keep
as far as possible aloof from conjectures and reckless theories into
which one is apt to be drawn in dealing with questions in archaeology;
sins of omission should be less reprehended in a work of this character
than sins of commission, and although I shall no doubt be judged guilty
of both, I hope to have erred rather on the side of the former.
It will be of special interest to archaeologists to have the painting on
the Medeia amphora, in Munich, correctly published; fig. 23 gives for
the first time the correct reading of the inscriptions, and for this
reason I could have wished that space had permitted a much larger
reproduction. The frontispiece, presenting a general view of the whole
vase, will, it is hoped, be of some help in affording those who have not
had an opportunity of seeing the originals, some notion of the size and
magnificent workmanship of this class of vases, called so appropriately
by the Germans _Prachtamphoren_. Another painting, fig. 3, is published
for the first time, and fig. 6, taken from a photograph, displaces the
drawing in Jahn’s _Vasenbilder_. Further than this, the illustrations
are the same as those that have already appeared elsewhere; it has been
possible for me to add new information regarding the whereabouts of some
few vases.
On the spelling of Greek names it need only be said that I have nearly
always preferred the Greek forms to the Latin equivalents; yet I have
not gone so far as to write _Hiketides_ for _Supplices_, or _Hepta_ for
_Septem_; neither did it seem advisable to disturb a word so common in
English as is _Oedipus_ by writing it _Oidipous_, or much less
_Oidipus_.
My thanks are due to Professor Otto Kern for help and encouragement
while he was still at the University of Berlin. Professor Carl Robert
has lent me valuable assistance, and I scarcely know whether I am more
indebted to his suggestive replies to my numerous inquiries or to his
writings, which latter have been a constant inspiration to me. Professor
A. Furtwängler, whose profound knowledge in the field of Greek ceramics,
as well as in every department of classical archaeology, is well known,
has aided me by his counsel and has spared some of his valuable time to
go over all the manuscript. I wish to express my indebtedness to all
these eminent scholars as well as to Mr. Charles B. Newcomer, M.A., who
has been kind enough to read the proof, and has favoured me with many
valuable suggestions. Mrs. Huddilston, who more than any one else has
followed all the work, deserves special mention; there is scarcely a
page that does not bear evidence of her sound judgement.
I indulge the hope that this little book may, with all its defects (and
I am well aware they are many), present much that is helpful in a field
in which there is little addressed to the student of classical
literature; and this brings me to remark that I have long wondered why
the editions of the Greek tragedies are not enlivened more with
reproductions of works of art pertaining to the myth involved. There is
no reason why the student who is set to read the _Choephoroi_,
_Eumenides_, _Medeia_, or _Iphigeneia in Tauris_, not to mention other
plays, should look only at the literary and philological sides of the
author. Is it considered unscholarly to illustrate books of this sort,
or are the scholars who edit them ignorant of the archaeological
apparatus? The time is coming, I firmly believe, when these two
departments of classical studies will not be so divorced as they are at
present, and when the monuments based upon a myth will be included in
our text-books and examined quite as closely as is the text of the poet.
When Greek art is thus made to supplement the study of the poetry, the
latter will be invested with a still greater charm than it now
possesses. More of the spirit is required and less of the letter, and
this is bound to be brought about when Greek art is introduced more
extensively into the instruction in Greek studies. I trust that these
pages will be considered a contribution towards this manner of studying
Greek tragedy, and that the plays which come in question will be read
with renewed interest by all students, and reviewed with pleasure and
profit by those who are instructors in classics; and again by those who
in the various walks of life still have time and inclination to turn
occasionally to the masterpieces of Greek letters—works that will always
remain substantial parts of the world’s literary ballast.
J. H. HUDDILSTON.
LONDON, _March, 1898_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
THE INFLUENCE OF GREEK TRAGEDY UPON ANCIENT ART OUTSIDE OF THE VASES
PAGE
§ 1. INTRODUCTORY 1
§ 2. TRAGIC INFLUENCES IN SCULPTURE 4
1. Greek Sculpture 4
2. The Etruscan Ash-Urns 10
3. The Roman Sarcophagi 15
§ 3. THE INFLUENCE OF TRAGEDY ON PAINTING 20
1. On Greek Painting 21
2. The Wall Paintings of Pompeii 24
§ 4. TRAGIC ELEMENTS ON THE ETRUSCAN MIRRORS 26
§ 5. GREEK TRAGEDY AND THE ‘MEGARIAN BOWLS’ 27
CHAPTER II
THE EARLIEST INFLUENCE OF TRAGEDY ON VASE PAINTING
§ 1. THEORIES ADVANCED FOR THE EARLIEST TRACES 31
§ 2. EARLIEST EVIDENCE 32
§ 3. THE FIFTH CENTURY B.C. 33
§ 4. THE FOURTH CENTURY B.C. AND THE CONDITIONS IN LOWER ITALY 37
CHAPTER III
AISCHYLOS AND VASE PAINTING
§ 1. INTRODUCTION 42
§ 2. _CHOEPHOROI_ 43
§ 3. _EUMENIDES_ 55
§ 4. THE LOST PLAYS 73
CHAPTER IV
SOPHOKLES AND HIS RELATION TO VASE PAINTING 75
CHAPTER V
EURIPIDES AND VASE PAINTING
§ 1. INTRODUCTION 78
§ 2. _ANDROMACHE_ 83
§ 3. _BAKCHAI_ 88
§ 4. _HEKABE_ 94
§ 5. _HIPPOLYTOS_ 101
§ 6. _IPHIGENEIA AT AULIS_ 112
§ 7. _IPHIGENEIA AMONG THE TAURIANS_ 121
§ 8. _KYKLOPS_ 139
§ 9. _MEDEIA_ 144
§ 10. _PHOINISSAI_ 171
§ 11. SUPPLEMENTARY 178
A List of Vase Paintings sometimes referred to Extant Plays 178
A List of Vase Paintings referred to Lost Plays 179
INDEX 182
THE COMMON ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES
_Annali d. Inst._ = _Annali dell’ Instituto di Corrispondenza
archeologica_ (Rome).
_Arch. Anz._ = _Archäologischer Anzeiger, Beiblatt zum Jahrbuch des
Archäologischen Instituts_ (Berlin).
_Arch. Ztg._ = _Archäologische Zeitung_ (Berlin).
_Athen. Mitth._ = _Mittheilungen des K. deutschen Archäologischen
Instituts in Athen._
Baumeister, _Denkmäler_ = Baumeister’s _Denkmäler des Klassischen
Altertums_.
_B. C. H._ = _Bulletin de Correspondence Hellénique_ (Athens).
_Compte Rendu_ = _Compte Rendu de la Commission impériale archéologique_
(St. Petersburg).
_C. I. A._ = _Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum._
_Élite Céram._ = _Élite des monuments céramographiques_, Lenormant et De
Witte.
F.-W. = Friederichs-Wolters, _Die Gipsabgüsse antiker Bildwerke_.
Furtwängler, _Masterpieces_ = Furtwängler, _Masterpieces of Greek
Sculpture_.
Gerhard, _Auserl. Vasen._ = Gerhard, _Auserlesen griechische
Vasenbilder_.
Helbig, _Wandgemälde_ = Helbig, _Wandgemälde der vom Vesuv verschütteten
Städte Campaniens_.
Inghirami, _Vasi fitt._ = Inghirami, _Pitture di vasi fittili_.
_Jahrbuch_ = _Jahrbuch des K. deutschen Archäologischen Instituts_
(Berlin).
_J. H. S._ = _Journal of Hellenic Studies_ (London).
_Mon. d. Inst._ = _Monumenti inediti pubblicati dall’ Instituto di
Corrispondenza archeologica_ (Rome).
Nauck, _Fragmenta_ = Nauck, _Fragmenta tragicorum graecorum._ 2 ed.
Overbeck, _Bildwerke_ = Overbeck, _Die Bildwerke zum thebischen und
troischen Heldenkreis_.
Overbeck, _Schriftquellen_ = Overbeck, _Die antiken Schriftquellen zur
Geschichte der bildenden Künste bei den Griechen_.
Reinach-Millin, _Peintures_ = Reinach, _Peintures de Vases
Reinach-Millingen, _Peintures_ antiques recueillies par Millin
(1808) et Millingen (1813)._
Vogel, _Scen. eur. Trag._ = Vogel, _Scenen euripideischer Tragödien in
griechischen Vasengemälden_.
GREEK TRAGEDY IN THE LIGHT OF VASE PAINTINGS
CHAPTER I
THE INFLUENCE OF GREEK TRAGEDY UPON ANCIENT ART OUTSIDE OF THE VASES
§ 1. INTRODUCTORY.
Painting as a fine art has never been developed to any great degree of
perfection independent of literature. The two are, in a sense,
handmaids, each inspiring the other and assisting it to solve new
problems. A great literature is, furthermore, a necessary precursor of
great achievements in art, since the latter is the more dependent of the
two, and seeks its inspiration from the poet. This may not be clear to
one who looks about at painting in this age of eclecticism, and
endeavours to satisfy himself that literature and art are thus related,
and that the former is required to give the initial impetus to the
latter. The principle can, however, be made plain by going back nearer
the fountain spring of modern literary and artistic development. One
should turn to the Italian Renaissance of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries—to the period when Dante became the teacher and guide of
artistic notions—in order to observe the full meaning and force of the
supremacy of literature. There, where for the first time in the modern
world a great genius fashioned the thought of more than a century, one
can study easily the power of the poet over the artist. The influence of
Dante upon artistic notions from Giotto down to the present has, indeed,
been incalculably great. No painter of the _quattrocento_, at least,
worked in any other than the Dantesque spirit; whether consciously or
unconsciously, he was under the spell of the father of Italian letters.
Dante’s Hell and Paradise became the Hell and Paradise of Signorelli and
Michel Angelo. Botticelli, Flaxman, Doré, and many others left their
canvasses and frescoes to interpret the hidden secrets of the _Divina
Commedia_. The great Christian Epic which Cornelius developed through
many years of study and contemplation of Dante, and which he considered
the crowning work of his life, is told in the altar fresco of the
Ludwig’s Church in Munich. Yet this is but one of the many monumental
works of this century which owes its existence to this poet. Delacroix’s
‘Barque of Dante,’ exhibited in the Paris _Salon_ of 1822, has been
called the first real painting of the century. When one turns to England
there is Rossetti, with ‘Beatrice and Dante,’ ‘Dante’s Dream,’ and
several other famous paintings that witness again to the influence of
the Italian poet. But one may remark that Dante’s position in the
history of human progress is unique. This is true. The world has not
known another whose authority was so absolute or whose philosophy
appeared so final. The influence of poets of less power has been
correspondingly smaller. The principle, however, remains true. The poet
ventures where the boldest artist has not gone and prepares, as it were,
the way for him.
The closest parallel to Dante’s influence upon the trend of artistic
notions must be looked for in ancient Greece; Homer must be named with
Dante. The Homeric poetry has exercised a power which the _Divina
Commedia_ has scarcely surpassed; the thousand and more streams of
influence which rose in the Greek epic literature went out in every
direction to water the fields of art and letters in Greece and Rome, and
flowed on again after Petrarch’s time, and are to-day mighty forces.
Events and incidents of the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ have taken so
permanent a place in modern art that one hardly stops to think that this
or that is from Homer. But this company of persons which the world calls
Homer was not the only vital force that shaped men’s thoughts and
furnished the artist with fresh inspiration. The tragic poets are to be
named with Homer. Had Aischylean, Sophoklean, and Euripidean elements
not entered into ancient and modern works of art the world would never
have known some of its most beautiful monuments. This is not, however,
the place to linger over the influence of the Greek epic and tragic
literature in modern times, interesting though this would be. It is in
ancient times, when there was still among the people a peculiar interest
in the mythic legends, that the contact of poet and artist is most
apparent; it is with the three Greek tragedians that we have to do at
present, and some traces of their work may be pointed out in the various
classes of monuments before the vase paintings are examined.
§ 2. TRAGIC INFLUENCES IN SCULPTURE.
1. _Greek Sculpture._
One does not expect the sculptor’s notions to be largely shaped by a
definite situation in literature, as he has little to do with
illustration; his art is too severe and confined to reproduce the
dramatic and pathetic with great success. There is accordingly little
direct influence of the Greek tragic literature over ancient sculpture
except on the sarcophagi. Of the monuments belonging to the fifth
century B.C., which owe their existence indirectly to the drama, three
reliefs occupy the foremost place. These are the well-known Orpheus[1],
Peliades[2], and Peirithoös[3] reliefs, all of which belong close to the
time of the Parthenon frieze. Reisch has made it clear that these works
were conceived and carried out in the spirit of the tragic drama[4].
They are claimed, indeed, as dedicatory offerings in memory of
particular tragic exhibitions, but no attempt is made to name any poet
or tragedy with which they were connected. Whether one is correct in
holding these reliefs as ἀναθήματα, certain it is that in every
particular they breathe forth the spirit of tragedy. The triple group in
each has been pointed out as corresponding to the three actors. This,
however, is an outer sign that might serve to indicate their origin. The
relation of the figures to each other—the conflict of soul which one may
observe—the pathos that pervades the groups—these are so unlike anything
that occurs on the earlier monuments that a person involuntarily asks
himself whence the artists received their motives. Tragedy provides the
answer. The parting scene between Alkestis and Admetos which Euripides
describes so beautifully belongs to the same decade as does the Orpheus
relief. This touching episode may well have been the incentive to some
such work as the parting between Orpheus and Eurydike. In all three
instances the sculptor was at any rate occupied with the problems which
concerned the tragic poet, and he reproduced true echoes of dramatic
situations.
Related to these reliefs is another class of monuments which grew out of
the tragic performances. From the middle of the fifth century B.C.[5]
till at least the close of the third century B.C.[6] it was customary
for the successful choregos to dedicate the tripod that the state had
given him as a prize. The magnificence and elaborateness accompanying
this ceremony can be learned from the still extant Lysikrates monument
upon which the tripod once stood and on the intercolumniations of which
tripods in relief are represented. A street in Athens was given over to
the exposition of these prizes. Pausanias states that they were of
bronze and stood on temples[7]. More important still for us in this
connexion is the fact that together with the tripod, probably under the
kettle, it was the custom to set up a figure of a satyr or Dionysos or
Nike[8]. This practice does not appear to have been older than the time
of Praxiteles. So it is that one learns of his famous satyr which
Pausanias mentions in connexion with one of the tripods[9]. The Greek of
this passage does not admit of a satisfactory interpretation, and it is
not possible therefore to determine what the attitude of the figure was.
It is probable that the statue which was thus intimately associated with
the Dionysiac performances was the περιβόητος satyr of Praxiteles,
existing in so many copies and known throughout English literature as
the ‘Marble Faun.’ One can easily understand that this class of choregic
monuments was alone of great importance, and that through this channel
the tragic performances worked a wide influence over sculpture. There
was a vast number of statues in bronze and marble that thus arose from
the exigencies of the theatre. Along with these works may be classed the
numerous pieces of sculpture that were put up as decorations for the
theatre. Such were the εἰκόνες mentioned by Pausanias as being in the
Dionysiac theatre at Athens. The periegete names the statues of
Aischylos, Sophokles, Euripides, and Menander[10].
A large number of reliefs that represent Dionysos receiving the worship
of mortals, or advancing in a train of satyrs before a man lying on a
couch, makes up another class of sculpture, which probably owed its
origin to the drama. On the Peiraieus[11] relief three persons carrying
tragic masks advance before the god who reclines upon a _kline_. The
work may possibly be dated as early as the close of the fifth century
B.C.[12] It is at any rate an early example of the influence of the
tragic muse upon sculpture. The so-called Ikarios reliefs illustrating
Dionysos’ first appearance in Attica, and the consequent origin of
tragedy, may not refer to Ikarios at all, but are nevertheless to be
linked to tragedy in some way, as the masks clearly show[13]. They may
have been purely decorative work, or were perhaps offerings of actors.
It remains to speak of a few monuments which seem to have been more
directly under the influence of particular tragedies. One hears, for
example, that the sculptor Seilanion made a ‘Dying Iokaste.’[14] This
notion would appear to have been borrowed from some play. One may think
of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ of Sophokles or the _Phoinissai_ of Euripides.
Of far greater importance is the relief on one of the columns from
Ephesos which is known to every one[15]. The most satisfactory
interpretation of this work so far offered explains the scene as
Alkestis being delivered from Death. The heroine, rescued from Thanatos
by Hermes, is being conducted to the upper world again. Unfortunately
there is no agreement among archaeologists on this explanation[16].
Until a better one is brought forward, however, this important monument
may be held as evidence for the influence exerted by Euripides’ handling
of this popular myth. The _Alkestis_ is known to have been exceptionally
well received.
If tragic influences are only possibly at hand in the fragment from
Ephesos, the excavations at Pergamon have brought to light extensive
remains of reliefs that were inspired by Attic tragedy. The Telephos
frieze, now in Berlin, is directly associated with the drama. The mythic
founder of Pergamon had a long and varied career, which was told in
dramatic form by both Sophokles and Euripides. The suggestions for the
reliefs in question came from the _Auge_ and _Telephos_ of the latter,
and the _Mysoi_ of the former[17]. In these fragments one can see
distinctly the high esteem in which the Attic drama was held at the
court of the Attalidai. I know of no Greek sculpture which comes so near
being an illustration of tragedy as does this frieze.
Another work of monumental greatness belonging to about the same period
and exhibiting unmistakable signs of tragic influence is the Farnese
Bull in the National Museum in Naples[18]. This colossal group, which
represents Dirke being tied to a rampant bull by Amphion and Zethos, the
sons of Antiope, is characterized by a passion and violence that are
late products in Greek sculpture. Such motives made their appearance
first in the fourth century B.C. Niobe and her children are the earliest
representation on a grand scale of these elements that are so akin to
the drama. Such compositions were first possible with Praxiteles and
Skopas who broke away from the traditions of the Pheidian age. The
generation that saw a new type of Dionysos and of Aphrodite, and could
appreciate the frenzied maenad of Skopas, had been prepared for these
new motives very largely through the theatre. The drama had not a little
to do with impressing the artist and his public with the importance of
delineating the human feelings. In the case of the Niobe group one would
not attempt to point out any special influence of the _Niobe_ of
Aischylos or Sophokles, and still there is little doubt in my own mind
that the sculptor was more or less influenced by the tragic literature.
May not Praxiteles or Skopas, each of whom shares the credit of the
Niobe group, have been led to the pathetic look upon the mother’s face
by the lines of one of these lost plays? This new tendency in sculpture
reached its highest expression in the Laokoön and the Farnese Bull. The
latter can be traced to the influence of Euripides’ _Antiope_, which
appears to have been the source of all Dirke monuments in ancient art;
there is no dissenting voice as to Euripides’ right to occupy the
honourable position thus assigned[19] him. Reference has already been
made to the Laokoön[20] as representing the culmination of tragedy in
marble. The view held by Lessing and many others that Virgil was the
sculptors’ authority has been abandoned long since. The Pergamon altar
frieze has enabled us to fix the date of the Laokoön with approximate
correctness. It is surely some centuries older than the _Aeneid_ and
stands therefore in a possible relation to the _Laokoön_ of Sophokles.
Yet here again opinions vary widely. Sophokles’ play is lost, and the
few remaining fragments are not enough to enable one to make a
satisfactory reconstruction. The story came down from the epic
literature, and, like so many incidents in the fall of Troy, needed no
further popularization in order to appeal to the artist. That Sophokles’
tragedy, however, was wholly without any influence on the Rhodian
sculptors who so tragically and realistically represented Apollo’s
vengeance on his priest seems to me highly improbable. Such a conception
as found expression in this masterpiece of sculpture may well have
sprung from the masterpiece in poetry which was at hand in Sophokles’
_Laokoön_[21].
2. _The Etruscan Ash-urns._
The reliefs on the Etruscan and Roman sarcophagi carry us to Italian
soil and furnish us with a much larger field for pursuing our subject
than could be found in Greek sculpture. Of all the Italian races with
whom the Greeks came into contact, the Etrurians were by far the most
advanced in civilization; and during the centuries of active commercial
relations between the two peoples this nation, whose origin is the
puzzle of historians, and whose language is the _crux_ of philologists,
came more under the influence of Greek literature and art than any of
the Latin races that remained unhellenized. They have left abundant
evidence of these hellenizing influences. In various classes of
monuments which may still be studied—urns, mirrors, cistae,
tomb-paintings, and vases—one discovers Greek mythology and poetry. The
national mythology of the Etruscans is so much of an exception in their
art, and the Greek is so universally adopted, that one is at a loss to
account for the strange fact. On hundreds of Etruscan monuments one sees
the workings of Greek poetry, which found its way into Etruria before
Livius Andronicus produced the first tragedy in Rome 240 B.C. That the
Greek drama was introduced for the most part directly and not through
the medium of the early Latin tragedians, is shown by the fact that the
latter flourished in the second and first centuries B.C., while the urns
exhibiting tragic subjects are, for the most part, from the third
century B.C. Some may, indeed, date from the fourth century. Roman
tragedy can not be said to have really become at all a matter of general
interest before Ennius went to Rome in 204 B.C. He died 169 B.C., and
one should not think that the influence of these Latin adaptations and
translations of Greek plays took an immediate hold upon the neighbouring
Etruscans. Such elements percolate gradually into the various strata of
national life, to say nothing of the time required to reach a foreign
people whose language and customs are so different. But the _summus
epicus poeta_[22] was not the most popular or most prolific pilferer of
Greek plays. His tragedies numbered only about twenty. _In Accio
circaque eum Romana tragoedia est_[23]; and the probable truth of this
statement is well attested by the list of fifty plays that have come
down to us under Accius’ name. This poet, however, was born 170 B.C. and
first exhibited tragedies in 140 B.C. It is therefore very doubtful
whether one can rightly speak of the influence of Latin tragedy upon the
Etruscan artists. One dare not, at any rate, bring the ash-urns too far
into the second century B.C., as Brunn and those immediately under his
teaching formerly did. More recent investigations have proved the
chronological impossibility of interpreting these reliefs with the help
of Ennius, Accius, and Pacuvius.
Without taking time and space to review the arguments on which the
interpretations of the reliefs are based it will be enough for my
purpose to simply add a list of the scenes which one may reasonably
refer to Greek tragedy. Examining the first volume of Brunn’s _I rilievi
delle urne etrusche_, which is devoted to urns with scenes from the
Trojan Cycle, one learns that those presenting a version of the stories
ascribable to the tragic poets exceed those that are based on the
_Iliad_, _Odyssey_, and other epics. The representation of Paris’ return
to his Trojan home is, with one exception[24], the most frequent. The
thirty-four reliefs were referred, even in the time of the former late
dating, to Euripides’ Ἀλέξανδρος[25]. The fate of Telephos was,
according to Aristotle, a common subject for a tragedy[26]. We have
already met the story on the Pergamon frieze, and it is very frequent on
the Etruscan urns. Telephos grasps the young Orestes and threatens his
life on the altar after the manner of the drama. It may be the influence
of Aischylos or Euripides, but if one judges from the comparative
popularity of these poets in this period he would be inclined to assign
the first place to the latter[27]. The offering of Iphigeneia occurs on
twenty-six urns, nearly all of which were found in the vicinity of
Perugia[28]. It was again unquestionably Greek tragedy that was the
incentive for these scenes. Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides may all
share the credit of having furnished the literary source. A smaller
series of urns representing Odysseus’ adventure in taking Philoktetes
from Lemnos is also to be placed under the influence of the fifth
century tragedy[29]. The δόλιος Ὀδυσσεύς is seen playing his part as
cleverly as he does in the extant play of Sophokles. The attitude of
Philoktetes standing before Neoptolemos, having in two cases the arrow
in his hand, corresponds well to the character drawn by this poet. The
injured chieftain displays his courage and scoffs at the thought of
being carried away by the detested Odysseus. The murder of Aigisthos and
Klytaimestra represented on seventeen urns has been shown by Schlie to
be essentially Euripidean[30]. The arrival of Orestes and Pylades at the
precinct of the Tauric Artemis is possibly the subject of three
reliefs[31]. This would also take one directly to Euripides[32]. The
following are published in the second volume of the _Urne etrusche_ by
Körte. Medeia escapes on her dragon-chariot, driving over the bodies of
her children[33]—an echo of the great tragedy that exercised so wide an
influence in other fields of art[34]. The punishment of Dirke on four
reliefs is based without question on the _Antiope_ of Euripides[35]. The
blinding of Oedipus at the hands of Laios’ sons seems to have been an
invention of the same poet and is recognized in another relief[36]. The
Theban fratricide and the assault on the city were both much-prized
subjects[37]. Körte points out many features common to the numerous
reliefs and the _Phoinissai_ of Euripides[38]. The death of Alkmene is
represented on five urns which one would associate with the _Alkmene_ of
the same poet[39]. Euripides’ Κρῆτες is traceable on seven reliefs,
showing the legend of Daidalos and Pasiphaë[40]. Theseus’ fight with the
Minotaur occurs four times and reminds us of Euripides’ _Theseus_[41].
The death of Hippolytos on eight reliefs does not present any essential
variation from the extant Greek tragedy[42]. Perseus and Andromeda are
met with likewise and emphasize the wide popularity of Euripides’
play[43]. The famous legend of Oinomaos’ death and Pelops’ triumph
occurs on thirty-one urns[44]. It can be shown that these were inspired
by one or more of the lost tragedies that dealt with the subject[45].
The Μελέαγρος of Euripides appears to have been the source of at least
three of the many reliefs representing the Kalydonian Hunt[46]. To this
long list of urns based on Euripidean tragedies one must still add seven
that were probably inspired by this poet’s Μελανίππη ἡ σοψή and three
more that follow his Μελανίππη ἡ δεσμῶτις[47].
More than two-thirds of the more than four hundred Etruscan urns
examined are decorated with sculpture based on Greek tragedy, and in
nearly all instances the drama was Euripidean. Such are the instructive
facts regarding this important class of monuments.
3. _Roman Sarcophagi._
Under the expression ‘Roman sarcophagi’ one understands those of the
first and second centuries A.D. unless the expression is further
qualified. Sarcophagi from the time of the Republic are very rare and
they are withal modest in their workmanship. The florid decorations of
the time of the Empire, and especially of the period just noted, are
often of secondary interest, but the reliefs on the sarcophagi are for
the most part of prime importance, as furnishing reminiscences of lost
tragedies and ancient paintings of great renown. The majority are copies
of very ordinary merit, while now and then a sarcophagus relief is not
unworthy a Greek artist of the fourth century B.C.
It is a commonly known fact that long before the Laokoön, or the Farnese
Bull, or the Apollo Belvidere was unearthed in the sixteenth and
fifteenth centuries—long before the classical antiquities of Rome,
Florence, and Naples had attracted students and lovers of art—the
sculptures of these sarcophagi, scattered about in cathedrals and
palaces, had begun to teach the Italian artist what the human figure
really is, and what composition and decoration should be. The
Renaissance artist first learned the charm and simplicity of the ancient
costume from these marbles and perceived how vastly superior this was to
the heavy, conventional church-dress that concealed the outlines of the
form and rendered grace and beauty impossible. The study of the antique,
we have reason to believe, was in the early Renaissance largely a study
of these Roman sarcophagi.
There is no need of going into detail. It will be enough to hint at the
most important monuments of this class that stand under the influence of
Greek tragedy. Whether they are a direct product of the Greek plays or
are founded on the Latin translations, or whether they represent copies
of Greek paintings based on Greek tragedy—this is for the present
purpose all one and the same. It is not necessary to determine whence
the incentive came. The important fact for one to grasp first is, that a
surprisingly large number of the reliefs owe their existence to the
tragic drama, and that these sculptures should be brought into one’s
study of the tragic poets[48].
The series of reliefs illustrating Euripides’ _Alkestis_ is of prime
importance for one who wishes to see in art a scene worthy of the
poet[49]. The touching farewell of Alkestis as she reclines upon her
death-bed is in each instance the centre of the groups on the long side.
Around her gathers the whole family. The children draw up close to their
mother’s side. Her parents are also present, and this lends more
interest to the sight, for they could scarcely be absent although the
poet does not mention them in this connexion. The last words of
Alkestis, and Admetos’ reply, form the real charm of the play. All else
falls far behind these speeches, and following one of the gems in Greek
literature the artist could afford to assign his illustration the first
place on the reliefs. Arranged on either side are the other incidents of
the drama, following the poet with considerable faithfulness. In this
connexion should be mentioned the relief in Florence, also based upon
the same source[50].
The Hippolytos sarcophagi are, so far as I know, the most numerous of
those that are dependent upon tragedy. If we possess more than a score,
either entire or in fragments, after the destructive elements have been
at work on them since antiquity, there is reason to believe that many
times this number were once in existence. Copies were made in large
numbers, and many a Roman was laid to rest behind the tragedy in marble
which in the _Hippolytos_ of Euripides has continued with some
interruptions to move the sympathies of the civilized world for more
than two thousand years. The reliefs are in the main faithful
illustrations of Euripides. One or two situations are foreign to him,
and these would suggest the influence of a Roman poet. It is unnecessary
to do more here than to refer to the following chapter, where the whole
question finds a further discussion[51].
‘The Orestes myth appears upon the sarcophagi exclusively in the form
given to it by the Attic drama. The first part—the slaying of Aigisthos
and Klytaimestra—follows the _Oresteia_ of Aischylos. The second
part—the meeting of Iphigeneia and Orestes and the rape of the Tauric
idol—is based upon the _Iphigeneia in Tauris_ of Euripides.’[52] One
exception only is noted and this appears to represent the influence of a
later play which handled the subject of the _Oresteia_[53]. The scenes
on the other sarcophagi are indeed illustrations of Aischylos. In each
case the final moment of the _Choephoroi_, when the Furies rush in upon
the murderer, guilty of a mother’s blood, is chosen for the middle
group. Right and left from this the succeeding events are arranged. The
right end scene invariably represents Orestes as he is about to escape
from the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi and go to Athens. He picks his
way with circumspection over the sleeping Furies, and one is led up to
the triumphal verdict of the _Eumenides_[54]. Robert has shown very
clearly the relation of these sculptures to Aischylos’ words, and it is
enough to refer to his discussion.
The Iphigeneia-Orestes sarcophagi breathe from first to last the spirit
of Euripides. A study of them is scarcely less instructive than a
reading of the play. Step by step the story is unfolded. Orestes and
Pylades are taken captives and stand before the priestess, whose
dreadful office is made more horrible by the remains of human sacrifices
that are fastened up around the sanctuary; the recognition scene with
the letter follows. Then Iphigeneia appears with the idol in her arms,
and asks Thoas’ permission to go and purify it in the sea. The two
Greeks stand bound, ready to follow her, and last of all comes the
_mêlée_ at the ship. One after another of the barbarians is laid low by
the strong arms of Orestes and Pylades. Iphigeneia is placed safely
aboard with the image, and one sees the beginning of the homeward
journey that closed the history of the house of Atreus[55].
The Euripidean _Medeia_ is discussed at length in another place, and I
have pointed out there the part that the sarcophagi occupy in art
representations of the tragedy[56]. The two extremes of touching
tenderness and violent passion, which no one ever combined more
successfully in one character than did Euripides in his Medeia, come
prominently to the foreground in these reliefs. I know of no monuments
of ancient art that grasp the spirit of a Greek tragedy more effectually
than the Medeia sarcophagi. The strange and secret power of the
sorceress hovers over and pervades the whole. The dreadful vengeance
exacted by the slighted queen is shown in the most graphic manner.
Standing before the Berlin replica, which is the best preserved and most
beautiful of all the sculptures, one cannot but feel that he is face to
face with a marvellous illustration of the great tragedy. The marble all
but breathes; the dragons of Medeia’s chariot may be heard to hiss.
A small number of other monuments of this class belongs to the ‘Seven
against Thebes,’ and, as in the case of the Etruscan urns, the
_Phoinissai_ of Euripides is the main source of the illustrations.
Perhaps Seneca’s _Phoenissae_ also entered into the work. Robert
conjectures that Euripides’ _Oedipus_ may have furnished suggestions for
parts of the scenes[57].
The _Philoktetes_ of Sophokles is illustrated on one relief very much in
the manner of the Etruscan urns already referred to. The wounded
Philoktetes stands at the mouth of the cave and speaks to Neoptolemos on
the right. Odysseus keeps safely out of sight on the left[58].
The story of Pasiphaë’s unholy love is told on a fragment of a
sarcophagus in the Louvre[59]; Daidalos and his cunning work play the
leading part. The ultimate literary authority was Euripides’ Κρῆτες. The
latter may not have been used directly, as the myth enjoyed after this
play a continuous popularity. The relief on one end represents a fruit
offering, and as this would agree with the vegetarian vow of the chorus,
Robert prefers to recognize a direct connexion with Euripides[60].
Mention may be made lastly of the Meleager sarcophagi, which, like the
Etruscan urns, have much in common with Euripides’ Μελέαγρος[61].
§ 3. THE INFLUENCE OF TRAGEDY ON PAINTING.
Our knowledge of Greek painting is entirely literary. No vestige of this
art has survived that one may study the real monuments. The wall
paintings of Pompeii and Herculaneum are, however, a sort of recompense
for this loss, and with these and the assistance of Pliny and a few
other writers one can get some notion of certain masterpieces of ancient
painting. But the records are at the most very scant, and the student
has, after all, to allow his imagination to fill in many gaps.
1. _On Greek Painting._
The first probable point of contact between tragedy and painting is in
the time of Polygnotos. The series of paintings mentioned by Pausanias
as being in the Propylaia _may_ be brought under the name of the great
painter, since it is expressly stated that two of the ten were from his
hand[62]. Among the subjects were Odysseus fetching Philoktetes from
Lemnos; Orestes slaying Aigisthos; Polyxena on the point of being
sacrificed at Achilles’ tomb. The question arises, have these works any
connexion with the drama? If Polygnotos was the author of all the
paintings, the period of his activity excludes both Sophoklean and
Euripidean influence in the Philoktetes scene. The _Philoktetes_ of
Sophokles is known to have been produced in 409 B.C., and the same play
by Euripides appeared in the trilogy with the _Medeia_ in 431 B.C. This
leaves Aischylos’ tragedy, which could have served Polygnotos’ purpose.
Orestes killing Aigisthos seems also a possible product of the
_Oresteia_, but Pylades engaging the sons of Nauplios who came to the
usurper’s assistance renders the Aischylean source improbable.
Polyxena’s sacrifice is described by Euripides in the _Hekabe_[63], and
was the subject of Sophokles’ _Polyxene_[64]. Nothing, however, can be
made out of the few fragments belonging to the latter. The character of
this picture, in which πάθος excluded ἦθος, led Robert to assign it to
the fourth century and base it upon Euripides[65]. All these subjects
are from the Trojan Cycle, and agree well with what is known of
Polygnotos’ taste in selecting his legends. One has but to recall the
painting in the Lesche of the Knidians at Delphi—τὸ μὲν σύμπαν τὸ ἐν
δεξιᾷ τῆς γραφῆς Ἴλιός τέ ἐστιν ἑαλωκυῖα καὶ ἀπόπλους ὁ Ἑλλήνων[66]—to
learn that the drama was not essential to inspire Polygnotos. On the
other hand, a closer examination of the Philoktetes-Orestes legend
reveals the fact that the crafty Ithacan’s part in bringing Philoktetes
from Lemnos was an invention of the Attic drama[67]. The tragedians
placed Odysseus in the room occupied by Diomede in the Trojan Cycle. It
is absolutely necessary therefore to place this painting under the
influence of tragedy, whether it was by Polygnotos and inspired by
Aischylos or by a later artist and inspired by one or more of the three
tragedies. If the Polygnotos authorship be rejected (and as it is based
on pure conjecture there is nothing to forbid placing it aside), one is
at liberty to point out a relation between these works and later tragic
literature, as has already been done in the case of the Polyxena scene.
In the latter half of the fifth century B.C. painting appears to have
reflected pronounced tendencies of the drama. The legends of the heroic
time when tried in the crucible of the dramatic poet appealed more
strongly to the imagination of the artist who had been accustomed to
epic severeness and calmness. The conventionality and regulation types
gave way, and the tragic drama remained thereafter the vital force in
shaping the character of paintings occupied with heroic legends. At this
time we learn of a Telephos by Parrhasios, which one naturally
associates with Euripides or Aischylos[68]. The Iphigeneia of Timanthes
was a work that was scarcely possible but for the fresh interest
awakened in the story by the three tragedians[69]. It is highly probable
again that Euripides was the inspiration for the Andromeda of Nikias[70]
and the Medeia of Timomachus[71]. These were both works of great renown.
Apollodoros’ painting representing the Herakleidai can with some
certainty be referred to Euripides’ tragedy[72]. Theorus, a Samian,
painted Orestes slaying Aigisthos and Klytaimestra, and could hardly
have worked independent of Aischylos[73]. The fate of Pentheus and
Lykurgos was painted in the younger of the two temples in the Dionysiac
precinct south of the Acropolis[74]. The date of this temple has been
fixed at approximately 400 B.C.[75] The punishment of Pentheus was
particularly popular with the tragedians, and the dependence of this
painting on the play of Aischylos or Euripides is all but certain. The
former’s _Lykurgeia_ was the source of the numerous vase paintings of
Lower Italy representing the madness of the Thracian king[76], and one
may infer that this painting mentioned by Pausanias was essentially the
Aischylean Lykurgos. In the same place were two other scenes from the
career of Dionysos. Ariadne was represented as being forsaken by Theseus
and rescued by the god, and in another place Dionysos was conducting
Hephaistos to Olympos. Euripides’ _Theseus_ handled the love episode in
the first of the two latter, and this play was probably not without its
effect upon the popularity of the story which was of frequent
occurrence, particularly in Pompeii[77]. This poet’s power in dealing
with love exploits and depicting the sad case of unrequited love and the
attending calamities, was a new force in literature and a never-failing
spring from which the painter could draw. These compositions are one and
all connected with Dionysos, while three of them are parallel with
subjects handled in tragedy. Such scenes were possible only after the
drama had popularized the subjects and prepared the way, so to speak,
for the reception of the same in art. Even though one does not go so far
as to contend that these paintings were an outgrowth of tragedy, they
must be accepted as signs of the increasing interest in Dionysos and his
worship—and this was primarily the Greater Dionysia, where the first
editions of Greek tragedies were published. This was the period of
Zeuxis and Parrhasios—the time when Euripidean πάθος was shaping
artistic conceptions.
2. _The Wall Paintings of Pompeii and Herculaneum._
The Pompeian wall paintings, representing scenes from tragedy, are
largely reminiscences of earlier paintings, and many famous works that
have already been referred to are doubtless preserved in more or less
exact copies in these invaluable monuments. Besides the Medeia and
Andromeda, which have been noticed above, there is a series of paintings
based on the Hippolytos-Phaidra casualty[78], and another representing
the sacrifice of Iphigeneia[79]. The latter exhibit a marked similarity
to the work of Timanthes and the final scene in Euripides’ _Iphigeneia
at Aulis_. Several important paintings represent the meeting of Orestes
and Iphigeneia in the Tauric sanctuary, and there can be no question
regarding the decided dramatic colouring here[80]. Two pictures are
based on the Telephos legend, and remind one again of the Pergamon
frieze and the relation of this to Euripides and Sophokles[81]. Daidalos
with his wooden cow before Pasiphaë was another favourite Euripidean
story told at Pompeii[82]. The excavations in 1895 brought to light an
unusual number of priceless treasures in the _casa dei Vettii_. Among
the paintings was one showing the death of Pentheus[83]. The maenads are
hurling stones at him and thrusting him through with their thyrsoi; the
wildness of the locality and the tone of the whole work make it highly
probable that Euripides’ _Bakchai_ was the artist’s inspiration. Mention
may be made lastly of the punishment of Dirke, told in several
paintings[84]. After what has been said touching the Farnese Bull, it is
not necessary to point out again the part played in the Dirke monuments
by Euripides’ _Antiope_.
A glance at this brief sketch of ancient paintings on tragic subjects
cannot but impress one with the permanent and far-reaching influence of
the tragic poet over the painter. The striking fact that stands out
prominently before all others is the firm hold exercised by Euripides.
Note the following subjects—Andromeda, Dirke, Hippolytos, Iphigeneia at
Aulis, Medeia. Each of these characters has stamped upon it the form
given by this poet. Others after him adapted and translated his work,
but the ultimate authority remains none the less the Greek tragedian,
and neither the ancient nor the modern world accepts any other than the
Euripidean Andromeda, Hippolytos, or Medeia[85].
§ 4. TRAGIC ELEMENTS ON THE ETRUSCAN MIRRORS.
The engravers of the mirrors were less inventive than were the sculptors
of the ash-urns, and they moved in a much narrower sphere. Their work is
for the most part that of the ordinary mechanic whose hand is none too
sure. The compositions taken from tragedy are common with those already
met with on the Etruscan sarcophagi. There are Orestes and Pylades at
the temple of the Tauric Artemis[86]; the Kalydonian Hunt, following the
Μελέαγρος[87]; Daidalos constructing the wooden cow[88]; Polyxena taking
her farewell of Hekabe[89]; three scenes from the Telephos legend[90];
the parting scene between Alkestis and Admetos[91]; and Prometheus
chained to the Caucasus[92]. These instances at least may be adduced to
emphasize the fact of the wide-spread familiarity of the Etruscans with
tragedy. There is no doubt whatever that in these common everyday
articles, as well as on their sarcophagi, the Etruscans had
illustrations of the tragic poetry that may have been brought to them by
troops of ‘Dionysiac artists’[93].
§ 5. GREEK TRAGEDY AND THE ‘MEGARIAN BOWLS.’
Intermediate between sculpture and vase paintings appears a remarkably
interesting class of vases, or rather cups, which are decorated with a
band of relief. Certain of these are so intimately connected with the
drama, and with Euripides in particular, that at least a brief reference
should be made to them here. Examples of this ware are to be seen in
nearly every large museum, and I have seen fit to include reproductions
of three in the present work, as well as a small fragment of a
fourth[94]. The inscriptions and general style of the vases lead one to
date them in the second or third century B.C. They are surely not later
than this, and not much earlier. They owe their origin to a wide-spread
interest in the older Greek poets. The majority of the reliefs represent
scenes from the Trojan and Theban Cycles, and illustrate some poetical
work. We have to do at this time with those that are related to tragedy.
It is plain from a casual glance at the nature of the compositions taken
from tragic literature that it was not the words of the poet that
suggested the figures to the artist so much as the theatrical
performances themselves. The posings, gestures, groupings—in short, the
general attempt at effect, take one past the written work to the
Hellenistic stage. The motives are borrowed from Euripides, as played in
the second- and third-century theatre. The humble artist who conceived
these designs had visited the exhibitions of the _Iphigeneia at Aulis_
or of the _Phoinissai_, and received fresh ideas for his work. It is
necessary to emphasize the fact that these little monuments date from
the time when the dominating force in art was the tragic drama. The
influence of the theatre was felt among all classes of people. The
guilds of Dionysiac actors travelled around from one village to another,
and from one city to another, producing their _répertoire_ from the
three great tragedians, and, even when there was no permanent stage,
delivered from an improvised platform bad and indifferent versions of
the well-known plays[95]. The result was that tragedy was the one
popular form of literature in the Hellenistic period, and this meant
practically that the people were feasted on Euripides. The ‘Megarian
Bowls’ are priceless treasures from this period when the drama had
permeated all classes of society. The unpretentious reliefs are replete
with the spirit that one may discover at the same time in Italy, Asia
Minor, Athens, and Alexandria. They are direct witnesses of the fact
that Euripides was the people’s poet, and re-enforce the impression
gained from the study of all other classes of monuments.
For my own part I prefer to think of these cups as answering the place
of text illustrations and corresponding to our illustrated editions of
poetical works. One cannot imagine the papyri texts of the ancient poets
illumined with illustrations, but these ‘Megarian Bowls’ meet every
requirement of this kind of art. In order to keep the reader from going
astray in the interpretation the scenes are often accompanied by
inscriptions that render any misunderstanding impossible. The several
groups showing the successive stages of the play serve in fact every end
that is demanded of illustrations. Whether the vases were used by
schoolmasters in drilling their boys in classical poetry, or whether
they were ornaments for the home, the poet was sure to appeal to his
admirers in a new manner. He could be easily remembered by this means if
artificial aid was at all necessary. They had, moreover, the great merit
of being cheap; any number of copies could be made from the mould, and
such cups are really in existence[96]. If three replicas of one and the
same work have accidentally survived the centuries and can to-day be
studied as text illustrations of Euripides, how extensive must have been
the production and use of this sort of art in ancient times![97]