Greek drama, both tragedy and comedy, originated in the national amusements and performances of the choruses at the Dionysiac festivals. A few words must also be said about the arrangements of the theatre, such as they were at the time of the greatest glory of the drama at Athens. Here, fortunately, we have so large a store of information and monuments still extant, that we can form a very clear picture of these representations, differing as they did entirely from our modern performances.

In spite of the great advance made by Greek drama from the rough popular beginnings till the time of its greatest glory, and in spite of the enormous difference between the tragedies of the three great masters and the comedies of Aristophanes, both in their whole character as well as in the details of their structure and performance, and the cyclic choruses and rustic sports of the old Dionysia, yet there are a few points in which the drama, even in its highest development, shows the traces of its origin. One of these is the custom of giving theatrical representations only at certain festive seasons of the year, and in some way connected with the worship of Dionysus as actual religious acts, though

towards the end of the ancient Hellenic period theatrical representations were also given at festivals not in honour of Dionysus. In consequence of this the structure of the theatres, and especially the place for the spectators, had to be far larger than at the present day. As performances only took place a few times in the year, and not only the whole population of the town and neighbourhood, but even many strangers from a distance, collected together for them, the space for the audience had to be so large that many thousands, even tens of thousands, might have room there, and it must also be built in such a way that the performance could be conveniently seen from every place. These remarks refer in particular to Athens, with whose theatrical arrangements we are best acquainted, and which, moreover, was the model for most of the others. In the first place, it was impossible to have a covered space; covered theatres—concert-halls (?de?a), as they were called—were destined, not for dramatic, but for musical performances; secondly, the performances took place by daylight, in consequence of which much of the illusion was lost. Again, the great size of the structure and the considerable distance of most of the seats from the actors necessitated certain peculiarities in the costume of these latter which we must discuss later on.

The memory of the origin of the drama from choruses, to which in the course of time was added dramatic action, was preserved in a separation between the performers who presented the action and the chorus who only accompanied it—a separation which only gradually disappeared at a time when means were insufficient for defraying the considerable expenses of equipping a chorus. This distinction between actors and chorus was not only observed in the composition of the drama, but also in locality; the chorus, who not only sang, but also danced and marched, required a very large space for their evolutions, while the actors, whose number was very small, could do with less. Therefore, while the modern theatre consists of only two parts, the stage with its

accessories and an auditorium, the Greek theatre consisted of three parts; besides the auditorium and the structure of the stage, there was between the two a space for the chorus known as orchestra. In considering the arrangement of the buildings, we derive assistance from the descriptions of the ancients, as well as the still existing remains of Greek theatres. Fig. 150 represents the ground plan of the ruins of the great theatre of Dionysus at Athens, though we must remember that this structure, built originally in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C., had experienced considerable changes in the Roman period. Fig. 151 gives a view of the theatre of Syracuse in its present condition, and the ground plan restored is seen in Fig. 152; while Fig. 153 gives a restored view of the theatre of Segesta, reconstructed by Strack. We

may regard the orchestra as the centre of the whole structure. This was originally only a level dancing place, and its shape was usually an incomplete circle, since part was cut off by the stage, which extended at right angles along the orchestra. Opposite to this the circumference of the orchestra was surrounded in concentric lines by the raised seats of the auditorium, the theatre in the true sense of the word. There is no fixed standard for the shape of the orchestra and the corresponding auditorium; sometimes it is a semicircle with the circumference extended a little way on both sides, sometimes it is lengthened by a tangent, or some other line at right angles to the circle. In the great theatre of Dionysus the orchestra was originally a perfect circle; a complete semicircle, which is common in the Roman theatres, was very unusual in those of Greece. Here, as in the structures used for games, such as the Stadia and Hippodromes, the Greeks tried as far as possible to utilise the natural conditions of the ground for their theatres. If possible, therefore, they placed the auditorium on some natural elevation; thus, the great theatre of Dionysus extends up the southern slope of the Acropolis; and if there was no such elevation they often supplied it by artificial mounds of earth, differing thus from the custom of the Romans, who, in consequence of the greater development of their architectural knowledge, were able to build a theatre on an open space, and to support the auditorium by strong sub-structures. The Greek mode of building had the advantage of greater cheapness and security, and, if the nature of the ground permitted, also enabled them to make exits and entrances for the public besides those below. In the theatre of Dionysus there were side approaches on the high ground also. The auditorium of the Greek theatre was usually situated in some beautiful spot, from which the visitors to the theatre, at any rate those on the higher ground, who were not hindered by the structure of the stage opposite, had an extensive view. Thus the theatre of Syracuse (Fig. 151) had a glorious view over the harbour and town—in fact, nearly all the theatres in the neighbourhood of the sea are usually so built that the auditorium is open towards the sea, and the fresh breeze may refresh the public during the hot hours of the day.

The seats, according to the nature of the locality, were either hewn direct out of the rocky ground or based on artificial foundations. At Athens the spectators originally sat on the bare ground of the Acropolis slope or on wooden benches placed there; in the fourth century stone steps were made there. At Syracuse, Sicyon, and other places, nearly the whole auditorium and the steps were hewn out of the rock; the ends or wings of the auditorium, which jutted out where the seats ended, close by the stage, had to be of specially massive construction. Sometimes, though more often in the Roman than the Greek theatres, the auditorium touched the side wings of the stage; but this was not a particularly convenient method, since a considerable number of the places along this stone wall had no view of the stage or, at any rate, only a very unsatisfactory one. Entrance was procured for the public by the great gates which led on the right and left between the auditorium and the stage, and which, when the spectators were assembled, also formed the entrances for the chorus (p???d??). When a theatre was situated on elevated ground, there were also other approaches leading to the gangways of the upper storeys; probably these were only used for emptying the theatre, and not for admission, since on entering the spectators had to pay for their admission, or else present their tickets, and therefore the number of entrances was probably limited with a view to simplifying the control. In those theatres where the seats extended as far as the stage, the approaches which were below the seats had to be covered over (compare the view of the theatre at Syracuse), but, as a rule, we must suppose that they were uncovered. The seats were arranged in such a manner that the steps, which rose from the orchestra to the top of the theatre, were also used as seats; people sat on the actual stone, unless, as sometimes happened, they brought cushions with them, or had these carried by slaves. There were a number of places in the lower rows distinguished from the others by seats of honour, made also of stone, usually of costly marble; some of these seats, dating, however, from the Roman period, have been found in the theatre of Dionysus. The usual height of the steps was from about 16 to 19 inches, and the depth from 24 to 28. There was no division of seats, and though probably care was taken that too many persons should not be crowded together, yet there were no lines drawn to mark out the appointed places. There was a very convenient and at the same time simple arrangement for preventing the feet of those who sat on a higher row from inconveniencing those in front. The depth of the seat was often sufficient to prevent contact, but, besides that, it was the custom to hollow out that part of the step where the spectators would put their feet. Some of the steps, in fact, have three distinct surfaces: the nearest of these to the row above was hollowed out for the feet; then came a gangway for those who wished to move to or from their places, who could thus pass along without incommoding those who were seated; and the third surface was that on which the next row below were seated. There were, as a rule, no backs to the seats, but in places where there was a wider gangway, and thus one row of spectators did not come into immediate contact with the next, they were sometimes introduced and made of one piece with the seat.

In larger theatres the auditorium was almost always divided into several storeys by gangways. These gangways ran round the auditorium concentrically with the seats, and their object was to facilitate the circulation of the public; they were therefore of considerable breadth (compare Fig. 153), and sometimes two such gangways were put close to each other, one higher and one lower, so that the public could circulate easily on them without pushing each other. The separate seats were everywhere connected by steps. Although the arrangement of the whole auditorium with its raised seats was that of a circus, yet the seats were far too high to be used as steps also, and these had to be specially constructed. They were of two kinds; small steps in the direction of the seats, the object of which was to enable people to mount from one seat to the next, and the principal staircases, which intersected the seats through their whole extent from top to bottom, and formed, as it were, radii of the circle represented by the auditorium. The number of these staircases was larger or smaller as occasion required; sometimes the number was doubled at the top, where the distances increased, by introducing a third staircase between each pair; sometimes the staircases which began below did not continue at the top, but there was a change in the radii. It was most common, however, for these staircases to intersect the whole theatre right up to the highest seats, and thus to divide the whole auditorium into a number of wedge-shaped divisions, which, in fact, received the designation of wedges (?e???de?). Sometimes these wedges had special names, being called after statues which were placed there, as, for instance, in the theatre at Syracuse, and these designations facilitated the finding of places. As a rule, the steps were so arranged that there were two to every seat, thus each step was half the height of the seat.

In later times the upper seats led to open arcades; when the ground permitted it, the Romans often laid out walks and gardens on the elevation of the theatre, where the spectators might refresh themselves during intervals; below, near the orchestra, the auditorium was cut off by a wall, which must be so low that the spectators on the first seat could conveniently see the stage, which was raised a good bit above the orchestra. Sometimes the first gangway for the circulation of the public was placed behind this wall, which was bounded by a low breastwork; when this was the case, steps of the first-mentioned kind led up sideways to the orchestra (compare Fig. 153).

The size of the auditorium varied greatly. If our measurements of ruined theatres are correct, the theatre at Ephesus was the largest of all; Falkener has calculated that it could contain 56,700 people. The largest theatre in Europe was that of Megalopolis, which was calculated to have 44,000 seats, and the theatre of Dionysus 30,000. These calculations are, however, very uncertain, since we do not know how many feet were allotted to each person, and a variation of half a foot would make a very considerable difference.

The most important question connected with the orchestra deals with the Thymele, often alluded to by ancient writers. It was formerly assumed that this represented the ancient altar of Dionysus, round which the choruses originally danced, and that it was situated in the centre of the orchestra, while the chorus grouped around it, and that the leader of the chorus stood near the Thymele or on its steps, and the officials of the theatre also took their stand there. The view given by Strack in Fig. 153 is constructed according to this hypothesis; and a structure resembling an altar with steps is placed in the middle of the orchestra. But this interpretation of the Thymele has proved untenable, and though it is not possible to decide this question with any certainty, yet, among the various hypotheses, that of Wieseler seems the most probable—viz., that the Thymele was a wooden scaffolding constructed in the orchestra, on which the chorus performed its dances. The main object of this scaffolding, or podium, was not so much to place the chorus on higher ground as to facilitate their games and dancing, because it was easier to move and dance on the elastic floor of a wooden scaffolding than, as formerly, in the dusty orchestra, which, in fact, from this circumstance received the name “dust-place” (????st?a), or even on the stone pavement which seems to have been afterwards laid down in the orchestra. We do not know whether there were steps leading from the floor of the orchestra to this scaffolding, and, in fact, we cannot even determine its height. The size of the podium must have been considerable, since it must have supplied sufficient space for a large chorus. Besides its members, the number of which in cyclic choruses often amounted to fifty, the musicians who accompanied took their place there, and, apparently, even the constables (?ad?f????), who superintended the theatre; for, strange as it may seem to us that the officials whose duty it was to keep order among the public should be placed in so prominent a position at the side of the chorus, yet the proofs in favour of this arrangement seem decisive. The usual entrances to the orchestra for the chorus were the same as those used by the public; here, as in the arrangements on the stage, the rule was that the entrance on the right hand of the spectators indicated approach from the neighbourhood, from the town or harbour, and the left arrival from a distance.

The stage in the early days of the theatre was not much more than a mere wooden scaffolding, on which the actors appeared, while the chorus performed its dances in the orchestra below. There was a tent on the side turned away from the orchestra which served as a place of waiting for the actors when they had nothing to do on the stage, and it was this tent (s???) which gave its name to the stage, although even afterwards distinction was made between the actual stage and the structures connected with it. The real stage was an oblong surface, raised from ten to twelve feet above the orchestra; it was called the proscenium (p??s??????), and sometimes the speaking-place (???e???). The lower front wall was decorated in the Roman period with architectural designs, reliefs, or painting; we do not know whether this was also the case in the Greek theatre, as Strack has assumed in his reconstruction, but it is very probable that the front scene, which was turned to the spectators was not left quite bare. In Strack’s view there were also steps leading from the orchestra to the speaking-place. We cannot tell whether these were regularly placed in the theatres. Still, steps between the orchestra and stage were indispensable in those plays in which (as, for instance, in “Philoctetes”) the chorus leaves the orchestra and ascends to the stage; but it is quite possible that there were special wooden steps used for this purpose, which were taken away again when this connection was not required. The existence of these movable steps is especially mentioned in ancient writers.

Connected with this proscenium were the buildings belonging to the stage; these usually formed a structure several storeys in height, which enclosed the stage on three sides (compare Fig. 153) in the plan of the theatre of Dionysus (Fig. 150). The older walls belonging to the fourth century are sketched more lightly than the later restorations; here the walls of the stage, the actual skene, is the piece marked G. Z.; on the right and left were side wings (pa?as????a), and these were terminated by the walls 12 and 13. The latest investigations of DÖrpfeld prove that the stage of the theatre of Dionysus, constructed by the orator Lycurgus, had originally no fixed proscenium, but that a fresh wooden stage was constructed on every occasion. In later times they cut off a piece of the two side wings and fixed scenery between them. Several doors led from the tent to the stage; as a rule, there were three in the background, of which the middle one was the entrance of the chief actor, called “Protagonist,” and was supposed to lead either from a royal palace, or a dwelling, or a cave, according to the nature of the play; the door on the right was for the second actor, the one on the left had no special significance. We must not, however, regard these statements as universal. Probably there were usually three entrances to the stage, though in the theatre of Dionysus there is only a single door; but as the front was usually covered by some decoration, these entrances were not directly used, but the actors came through them into the narrow space between the wall of the stage and the decorations, and thence through the doors in the decorations on to the stage. The scenery of the background varied according to the nature of the action, and sometimes required several doors or entrances; sometimes there may have been no door at all, since the actors also had at their disposal the entrances by the side wings. These statements, therefore, only refer to certain plays, especially those tragedies in which the chief personage is a king; in this case, probably, the middle door was the one supposed to lead to the royal palace, and used, therefore, only by the protagonist, although we must not on that account suppose that he always came and went through this door, since the nature of the plays would of itself forbid this. Very often, too, a king appeared in the play whose part was an unimportant one, not given to the protagonist, and then, of course, the rule above quoted could not be observed.

The side wings were used for the actors to wait in, and it is very probable that the chorus also before making their appearance, and during the time when they were not present in the orchestra, retired thither, and that there were passages leading thence to the side entrances. There were also doors communicating with the stage, and these, like those in the orchestra, had their special significance; through the right-hand door came those actors who were supposed to come from the town, and through the left those who came from a distance, such as messengers, guests, friends returning home, etc.

The decorations were only on the stage, the orchestra was left quite bare, and probably had not even any movable properties. It is pure fantasy to suppose that in some plays a connection was established between the stage and orchestra by making the whole represent a mountain with rocky caves, etc. The Greeks assumed a certain amount of illusion, but confined this to the stage; they did not trouble about the space in front, any more than we care to-day about the appearance of the orchestra in front of the opera. It was the scene represented on the stage that gave its significance to the orchestra; if a palace was represented, and the stage represented the place in front of it, then the orchestra became an open space, on which the people assembled; if the background was a temple, the orchestra was the sacred space immediately in front of it (t?e???), and so on. Possibly the wall under the front of the stage was connected with the decoration, so that if the stage, for instance, represented a wild forest with a cave, the front of the scene was similarly decorated.

Scene-painting, in which Greek art first made an attempt at perspective drawing, had no such difficult and complicated tasks to accomplish in those times as in ours. The chief pieces of scenery were the background and the revolving pieces (pe??a?ta). The background of the proscenium had to cover the wall of the stage, and also indicate the place of the action, whether a square in front of a palace, or a street with private houses, or a forest, etc. We must not think of the great variety of scenery known to our modern stage; no doubt, too, they were content with very simple execution, merely hinting at the scene required. The background was probably suspended in a wooden scaffolding or frame, and placed immediately before the inner scene front on the floor of the stage. We do not know, however, how the decoration of the background was changed, for change of scene was sometimes necessary even in the ancient drama; perhaps they were in the habit in such cases of placing one of the scenes in front of another, so that, as at the present day, the front decoration had only to be moved, either by dropping it or by dividing it in two parts drawn to the side (for in the absence of rods they could not draw them up), and thus the second scene became visible behind.

The second kind of decoration, which took the place of our movable scenes, were the revolving pieces. These were two contrivances shaped like a three-sided prism, placed on either side of the stage at a little distance from the side-wings; their axis was attached to the wooden floor of the stage, and round this they moved. Each of them had three surfaces for decoration, so that, by turning them round, three different scenes could be represented, and this was doubtless enough for any play, for in the pieces which have come down to us there is only change of scene in two, the “Eumenides” of Aeschylus, and the “Ajax” of Sophocles, and in both these tragedies there is only one change. These revolving pieces must also have had a little store of decorations, for it was very easy to cover them with a change of picture, as they appear to have been simple stands. The theory that the ancient stage had altogether only three scenes for these stands—viz., one for tragedy, one for comedy, and one for the satyric drama, is undoubtedly mistaken.

The Greek stage had no other scenery than that for the background and the revolving pieces; there must have been some movable properties, such as benches, altars, tombs, etc., which are indicated by the contents of many plays preserved to us. It is very doubtful whether the Greek theatre resembled the Roman in the use of a curtain, which, instead of drawing up, sank down into the ground when the play opened; there is no absolute proof that this was the case. The modern prompter’s box was unknown, and it is evident that they did not make use of a prompter.

The machinery of the ancient stage seems to have been very complicated. Of most of the theatrical machines we know only the names, and can form but a very insufficient conception of them. A contrivance in very frequent use was the “rolling-out machine” (???????a), which, according to the statements of ancient writers, was used to show the spectators proceedings in the interior of a house—as we should say, “behind the scenes;” for in the Greek drama the scene was never laid inside a room, but everything went on in the open air. Our authorities do not, however, enable us to form any clear conception of this contrivance; probably the background opened out in some way, and the person or group which was to be seen on the machine was rolled out on a wooden scaffolding moving on rollers or wheels, which must, of course, have been decorated in some way; in some cases it may have been unnecessary to open out the background, and sufficient for the machine to be pushed in through one of the three doors. There was a similar contrivance for rolling out persons who were to be shown in the upper storey of a house at a corresponding height above the stage, as we see from the “Acharnians” of Aristophanes, where Euripides appears in this manner on a sort of balcony in the upper storey. Another contrivance bore the special name of “machine” (??a??), and was the origin of the expression Deus ex machina, used when a god, descending from Olympus, violently cut the knot of the action; this was used for suspending in the air gods, heroes, or mortals, but especially those persons who had to appear above as though flying. We cannot tell where this machine was attached, and how it was worked; there seems to have been a contrivance of this kind on either side of the stage, above the side entrances, near the side pieces, and the one on the left was used by gods, while that on the right was used for other purposes. The machine itself must usually have been kept in some upper storey of the stage structure. It must have been a somewhat dangerous means of transit; the actors who had to perform this aerial journey were usually bound fast with ropes or girths, and in the “Peace” of Aristophanes Trygaeus, when mounting on his aerial horse, the dungbeetle, which must have been a similar flying machine, implores the manager of the machinery, who has to superintend all these arrangements, to be very careful that he does not come to grief. The “gods’ speaking-place” (?e????e???) appears to have been a scaffolding above the chief entrance in the background, on which the gods appeared, probably surrounded by clouds; it differed from the “machine” in showing the gods peacefully throned above, instead of bringing the Olympian deities down to earth. Connected with the “machine” was the “crane” (???a???), a crane-like machine let down from above, which was used when human beings were to be lifted up from the stage; as, for instance, when Eos carried away the corpse of Memnon through the air.

They also had machines for producing thunder and lightning. We do not know how the lightning was made, and it is difficult to imagine that it could have been produced with any great result in broad daylight. The thunder was caused by rolling bladders full of little stones to and fro on brass plates in the hollow space under the stage. In this hollow space were also probably the “steps of Charon,” a contrivance for bringing the spirits of the dead on to the stage. Nothing certain is known concerning these steps, but it is very probable that they were managed after the fashion of our trap-doors, for undoubtedly the floor of the stage covered a hollow space, and thus a contrivance of this kind was very easily produced.

We must next consider the plays which had to be performed here. On the old Greek stage there were three kinds of drama—tragedies, comedies, and satyric dramas. The comedies were acted singly, and each constituted a complete whole; but tragedy, as it developed out of the Dionysus legend and the division of the action into three connected therewith, was so constructed that a large circle of myth was treated in three separate tragedies, whose contents were connected, but which were structurally complete in themselves, and these were called a Trilogy. But about the same time the curious custom originated of following up these three serious pieces, with their deeply pathetic contents, by a merry satyric drama by the same author,—a wild farce, in which a chorus of satyrs was introduced in connection with some mythical action, which of course, only appeared in travesty; and this combination of four dramas was called a Tetralogy. Unfortunately no tetralogy has come down complete to us; the trilogy of Aeschylus alone, which deals with the story of Orestes, gives us some notion of the mode in which the tragic poets arranged their material in the form of a trilogy. The first part, “Agamemnon,” represents the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra and Aegisthus; the second, the “Choephorae,” the vengeance taken by Orestes on the murderers; the third, the “Eumenides,” the absolution for the murder of his mother by the Areopagus. The tragic poets did not very long abide by the custom of presenting complete tetralogies at the Dionysia, in which the trilogy presented one connected subject. It attained its complete development under Aeschylus, but Sophocles already began to depart from it, and in the tetralogies with which he and Euripides competed, the internal connection between the tragedies was wanting. In later times it was customary for tragedies complete in themselves to be acted singly, so that the poets competed with drama against drama; still, the inscriptions show us that even in the fourth century tetralogies were acted, though they may not have been connected. Each of these three kinds of drama underwent several changes during the course of Greek literature.

In tragedy, whose subject was usually legend, but which also dealt with questions of the day, such as the occupation of Miletus and the wars with the Persians, there was at first a distinct preponderance of the lyric element supplied by the chorus over the purely dramatic part. Before the time of Aeschylus there was little idea of dramatic treatment; at that time there was only a single actor who, together with the chorus, supplied the whole action, and confined himself chiefly to recitations, so that there could be no question of striking situations and dialogue. Aeschylus then introduced a second actor; and as these actors, by a change of dress, could undertake several parts, the action was enlarged and animated, and the dialogue grew more interesting. When Sophocles added a third actor—an innovation of which Aeschylus, too, made use in his later period, and which constituted the highest number ever used in the Greek drama—the victory of the dramatic part over the lyric was accomplished; and from that time onward the chorus sank in importance compared with the actors, and at last disappeared altogether. In the tragedies of Euripides the dramatic element had become so important that the chorus could really be dispensed with; true, Euripides could not venture entirely to discard this custom, which was sanctified by religion and tradition, but, by gradually diminishing the share of the chorus in the action, he prepared for its complete abandonment. In Aeschylus, therefore, the solemn songs and reflections of the chorus occupy a considerable space, and the chorus even sometimes takes an active part in the action, since it preponderates in the play, and may be regarded as an acting personage; in Euripides its presence is more accidental—it expounds the dogmas and opinions of the poet, but takes no part in the action, and in tragedies it might be entirely left out without injury. In Sophocles alone the chorus and dialogue are harmoniously balanced. Corresponding to these changes in the position of the chorus was the amount assigned to them for declamation. We may say in general that the chorus sang an entrance song (p???d??), and afterwards during the further course of the play choric songs to mark pauses in the action, accompanied by marching, but without leaving the orchestra, and these were called standing songs (st?s?a); these long odes divided the drama into a series of parts, called episodes (?pe?s?d?a), which may be compared to our acts, since the action stops during the song, and the spectator has time to collect himself and to let what he has heard and seen act upon him, while the song continued through the interval helps him to keep the impression produced by the action, or else prepares him for what is to follow.

The older comedy, of which Aristophanes is the chief representative, made use of chorus and dialogue in the same way as tragedy. Its subjects referred to actual life, and dealt with political, social, and literary questions, and others of universal interest, but in a fantastic manner, with the most eccentric masques and absurd contrivances, dealing out hits all round with the wildest licence, and sparing neither the common citizen nor the most powerful and exalted personages. The part played by the chorus differed in many respects from that undertaken in tragedy; the comic chorus very often stepped entirely outside the action, and, as the mouthpiece of the poet, who used this opportunity to bring his political or other opinions before the public, to fight out personal quarrels, and, in general, to say whatever he pleased, it directed itself to the public; such are those comic choruses which bear the name Parabasis. The comic chorus was also adequately distinguished from the tragic, both in the difference of costume and in the number of its members; the latter were generally only twelve, and the former twice as many. Again, the dances and rhythmic movements of the comic choruses differed greatly from those of the tragic. But even during the lifetime of Aristophanes, the transformation of the comedy began in its outer form as well as in its real nature. The outer change consisted in the abolition of the chorus, the expenditure of which the citizens were no longer willing to defray, and thus an excellent opportunity was lost of saying rough truths with a laughing face, and the way was paved for a gradual change of subject. The change was accomplished by the so-called newer Attic Comedy, which had no chorus, and, instead of political or social satire, took as its subject pictures from Athenian life, love intrigues, comic misunderstandings, etc., and, in fact, more closely resembled our modern comedies. Then the lyric element naturally vanished, which in the older comedy, as in tragedy, appeared not only in the chorus but also in the dramatic performance of the actors; the action was presented only by dialogue, and the musical element, which had formerly played a very important part in comedy, was confined to accompaniment of the recitation, and thus became entirely subordinate.

The satyric drama is the one in which we can trace the fewest changes, but it had only a short existence. It was invented by Pratinas, a contemporary of Aeschylus, probably with the intention of compensating the public, who must have sadly missed the popular sports which had formerly enlivened the celebration of the Dionysia, and to satisfy their desire for coarser fare. At first the satyric drama seems to have preceded the tragedies, but this was soon changed. In the best period of the drama we never find satyric plays alone without tragedies preceding them; they were so essentially a part of the tragedy that we only hear of tragic writers as composers of satyric dramas. The best period of the satyric drama was the time of Pratinas and Aeschylus; Sophocles and Euripides, too, composed them—one by the latter has come down to us, the “Cyclops”—but at that time its best period was already over, since it no longer formed the necessary conclusion of a dramatic tetralogy. Still, satyric dramas retained their position on the stage until the second century, and, in fact, the Alexandrine poets made a fresh attempt to connect the satyric drama with tragedies in a tetralogy. We know very little about the subject of these later satyric dramas. The titles of Alexandrine plays that have come down to us show that at that time actual life was introduced, though the mythological subjects which had formed the sole basis of the ancient satyric drama were also used.

The ancient drama, under which we include tragedy, satyric drama, and comedy, was a combination of three arts—poetry, music, and dancing. The last was, as a rule, confined to the chorus, and it very seldom happened that an actor in the play performed a dance, but the musical part belonged not only to the chorus but also to the actors; for though the usual dialogue consisted merely in recitation, yet there were long passages in the purely dramatic part which were not declaimed by the actors, but sung. Our modern writers express very different opinions about the mode in which the dialogues were recited. It appears to us most probable that in comedy there was, as a rule, only speaking, without any musical accompaniment; while in tragedy continuous musical composition was introduced alternating with dramatic speech—that is, spoken recitation, accompanied by music—and even with simple declamation. Then there were also solo songs by the actors, of which the metre was lyric, and these bore some resemblance to the airs of our modern opera; they are less common in the older tragedy than in Euripides, with whom they sometimes take a disproportionately large place. There were also musical dialogues between the actors and chorus, in particular its leader. The instruments used for accompaniment were the lyre and cithara, and also the flute. The stringed instruments were used chiefly for striking a few notes like the chords struck at our recitations; the flute only indicated the chief notes, and accompanied the melody of the chorus and the solo song either at the same height or one or two octaves higher. Flute playing accompanied most of the choric songs; with the chorus entered a flute player, who always took his place on the thymele. In later tragedy the music, which had formerly been very simple, grew more elaborate and complicated; several flute players played at the same time, and with their shrill music very often drowned the singing; but the solo performances on the stage were accompanied by only a single flute.

The choregraphic element in the drama, which belonged especially to the chorus in tragedy, consisted chiefly in marching with various figures, much like our modern polonaise. The dances in comedy were much more lively and often of a lascivious character, and those of a satyric chorus were also of a burlesque nature. But, doubtless, the choric dancing consisted not merely in certain regular movements of the feet adapted to the music, but also in rhythmic motions of the whole body, and especially of the hands and arms, so that their dancing must have somewhat resembled our modern ballet. It is not easy to get any complete conception of it; the later hypotheses are by no means proved, and many strange statements have been made about the recitation of the chorus, the division of verses and words of the song among the semi-chorus, leaders, or individual members. In any case the task of the chorus was no easy one, since the members were not professional artists like the actors, but amateurs, who had to be specially trained for each performance. This was due to the institution of the Choragia.

In ancient times the equipment and performance of plays was not, as afterwards, a duty of the State; the poet undertook the expenses, and tried to cover them by entrance money. But when the theatrical representation became a regular part of the Dionysiac festivals, the State took the matter in its own hands, and arranged things in such a way that the expenses for the chorus were undertaken by some wealthy citizen as a liturgy, while the rest of the expenses were defrayed by the State. This liturgy was called Choragia, because originally the person who defrayed the expenses also trained and led the chorus. For the various choric performances required at the many festivals—since besides tragic and comic choruses there were also cyclic and other choral representations—each tribe chose its “choragus,” and this was done a year in advance, because the preparations required a great deal of time. If a poet wanted to perform one of his dramas at a festival, he need not consider how to procure the necessary actors, but only how to get his chorus. For this purpose he addressed himself to that archon whose duty it was to make the arrangements for the festival in question, and begged him to assign him a choragus. It appears to have been in the power of this official to accept or refuse the play. Probably the poets handed in the manuscript of their plays. The only limitations in applying were that the poet must be a citizen, and of unstained reputation; and in comedy, on account of its political character, he must be of a certain age—thirty years, according to most of the statements. If the archon accepted the drama, he assigned the poet one of the choragi, either by election or lot. It was by no means a matter of indifference whether this was required for tragedy or comedy; for at the time when they competed with tetralogies, tragedy involved at least as much expense as did comedy with its larger chorus. It is probable, therefore, that the choragi were sometimes assisted by the State, especially as in later times, when the glory of Athens had departed, and its citizens were no longer so rich, it became more and more difficult to find people ready to undertake these great expenses; and in later times it was not unusual for several choragi together to undertake a chorus.

The first duty of the choragus was to collect the necessary number of persons and to pay those who were not bound to appear unpaid. He had also to choose and pay a chorus teacher, who had to train the chorus (????d?d?s?a???), and usually undertook the place of chorus-leader at the performance. In former times, when this instruction of the chorus was not a profession as it was later on, and the poet often helped in the training, the choragus frequently trained the chorus himself, and even appeared as their leader at the performance; but in later times this was unusual. The choragus had also to procure, or if necessary hire, a place for the training of the chorus, to keep the members during the time of training, and to provide them with festive garments and wreaths for the performance. It rested with him to spend a large or a small amount for this last purpose, but a choragus who equipped a comic chorus economically, risked being made the subject of the poet’s sarcasm on some future occasion, and in the allotment of prizes, too, the appearance of the chorus would be considered, as well as the manner in which it performed its task.

The chorus-members were usually free citizens; strangers were jealously excluded. Their task was by no means a light one; bodily dexterity was required for the dances, and good musical training, good delivery and comprehension of the poetic text were necessary in order to give a satisfactory representation of the poet’s work before the keenly critical Attic public. It is, therefore, natural that a good choragus took considerable trouble to procure a good chorus, the rather as the choragia was a contest in which not only the poet but also the choragi contended for the prize. Besides those already mentioned, the choragi had also other duties: to procure the requisites, such as decoration for the side-scenes, perhaps even to supply sacrificial animals if they were required in the play. In later times, when the chorus had lost its importance, and the expenses were less considerable, the choragus had also to supply the dresses of the actors, though this was never the case in the best period of the drama. In fact, as we may learn from the inscriptions, a complete change in the choragia took place in the Hellenistic period. It became the custom for the people to choose presidents of contests (????????a?), whose duty it was to provide for the musical competitions at the Dionysia and other festivals. They had to attend to the regular and suitable performance of the contests, to supply certain sacrificial animals, etc.; this was often a very expensive undertaking, and, like all officials, they had to make a statement concerning their office at the conclusion of its duration. This institution in a way placed the choragia in the hands of the people, who transferred their duties to the presidents, and these had then to equip all the choruses, which were no longer so numerous as they had been formerly. This innovation was necessitated by the fact that the number of rich families of whom these pecuniary sacrifices could be demanded, had become very small, and these now supplied the presidents. This change in the arrangements of the choragia seems to have taken place under the rule of Demetrius of Phalerum, towards the end of the fourth century B.C.

It is a well-known fact that in the ancient theatre women never appeared on the stage, and all women’s parts were presented by men; we have also noted the fact that there was at first only a single actor, who represented various parts one after another, and entered into a dialogue with the leader of the chorus, and that Aeschylus added a second, and Sophocles a third. Originally the poet himself appeared as actor, and when there were several actors, as protagonist—that is he represented the chief part. When Sophocles, who had himself appeared a few times, abandoned this custom, it gradually fell into disuse, and the first actor, as well as the two others, was supplied to the poet by the State. As a rule, the actors were allotted to the poets by lot; it seems, however, that before the State undertook to pay an actor, he had to submit to examination, and that only those who had already appeared, and whose performances were well known, were excluded from this examination. The State, then, engaged for each festival a number of protagonists, deuteragonists, and tritagonists, corresponding to the number of poets contending; thus, if there were three poets competing, they required nine actors, supposing the same actors continued to perform throughout the whole tetralogy, of which we cannot be certain. The lot assigned to each of the poets one out of the three classes; still, we know that some poets always had the same protagonist, who appeared in all their plays, and for whom, in fact, they sometimes wrote a special part; therefore, it must have been customary for poets who had already been victorious to ask for a particular protagonist without drawing lots, and this custom probably became the rule afterwards. We cannot, however, say how the two others were chosen.

The parts of the play were now divided between these three actors; the chief part, which, as a rule, was the most difficult, fell to the protagonist; the next in importance—viz., the one which was brought into the closest connection with the chief person, fell to the deuteragonist; the tritagonist undertook unimportant parts, such as messengers, heralds, etc., and these actors of the lowest class did not stand in particular estimation with the public. But as the plays contained more than three parts, each actor had to undertake several, and therefore, even while composing a play, the poet had to be careful that the actors, if they had to appear in another part, had sufficient time for change of costume, and that the absence of an actor who was to be used for another part should be in some way explained. There were, however, plays in which it was absolutely impossible to manage with three actors, and for these there was a contrivance about which the exponents of passages referring to it hold very different opinions, and, indeed, there seem to be mistakes or misrepresentations in the authors themselves. It is most probable that when a poet required more than the three actors assigned him by the State he applied to the choragus, and came to an agreement with him; he then supplied a fourth actor, or even a fifth, since it was only small parts that had to be thus undertaken, and, if necessary, the choragus also provided a second, or minor, chorus, such as was required in certain plays (parachorÊgÊma). There were also dumb personages, or statists, called also “spear-bearers,” since these parts were frequently merely standing parts. We do not know whether the State or the choragus paid for these. We have, in fact, little information about the payment given to the actors, which must have been, however, different in proportion to their performances; in the Macedonian period celebrated actors received very high pay. In the Hellenistic period a complete transformation took place in acting. When the chorus was abolished, and the representation of dramas in consequence became easier, and took place at other festivals as well as the Dionysia, unions of actors were formed, calling themselves “Dionysiac artists,” concerning which the inscriptions give us a good deal of interesting information. A number of these companies combined together into sacred guilds, which had their seat in the large towns, and sent their members in companies into small towns and also into the provinces as far as Asia Minor, for festive representations. We are best acquainted with the arrangements of the Dionysiac artist company of Teos, an Ionic town on the coast of Lydia. These not only appeared in Asia Minor, but had also rights in Delphi, Thebes, and Thespiae. It numbered a great many members, not only actors, but also writers of tragedies, comedies, and satyric dramas, epic poems, and encomia; composers, musicians, dancers, machinists, decorators, wardrobe owners, etc. They also instituted a dramatic musical school, a kind of Conservatorium, in which pupils from various parts of Greece were trained, and usually in turn became members of the guild. It is very interesting to examine the details, management, inner organisation, and life of the members of these actors’ guilds in the Alexandrine period, but unfortunately space does not permit us to do so here.

All the arrangements already described show strong contrasts between ancient and modern theatres, and perhaps there is nothing which strikes us as so extraordinary as the Greek theatrical costume, and especially the appearance of actors in masks. It is impossible for us to understand this complete disregard of expression and change in representing feelings, and this perpetual stare of the unchanging mask. This curious custom has been explained in many different ways. It is a mistake to suppose that the Greek theatres were too large for the play of an actor’s expression to be observed, and that the coarse features of the mask were arranged with a view to this distance, in which their want of change would be less striking. Since they played in broad daylight, in the sharp clear light of a southern sky, the spectators, even in the most distant places, could have followed the play of the actor’s features, especially since the ancients had better eyes than our present generation. Nor is it correct to suppose that the masks were required in order that the funnel-shaped contrivance applied to its mouth should strengthen the sound; for the acoustics in the Greek theatres were usually so good that the very slightest word even whispered on the stage could be heard in the auditorium. Undoubtedly it would have been impossible without masks for the same actor to undertake many parts in quick succession; but at the same time we may ask whether they would have held so strictly to this system of dividing all the parts among three actors if they had not already possessed the masks, and thus the possibility of abiding within these limitations. The introduction of real characters, whose features were to be faithfully imitated was also facilitated by the masks, but good mimics could achieve this even without, as examples on the modern stage have shown. Consequently, none of these reasons really explain the use of masks; in reality they originated in the religious customs which were the origin of the drama, and afterwards were simply maintained with many other relics of its religious origin, as people had got accustomed to them and found them convenient. It had formerly been the practice at the Dionysia, whence the drama originated, for people to disguise their faces by smearing them over with husks of grapes, etc., or to cover them up completely, or disguise them with wreaths of ivy, etc. Instead of painting and covering them with leaves they gradually began to use pieces of linen, at first quite shapeless and destined only to cover the face and prevent recognition, but afterwards by imitating human features, these developed into masks. This custom continued, then, as sanctified by tradition, and, indeed, all the theatrical arrangements were regarded as a sacred ceremony in honour of Dionysus.

The theatrical masks, the material of which in later times, too, was linen, covered with plaster of Paris, or else wood, bark, etc., differed from our modern masks in covering not only the face, but the whole head of the actor. The actor who had put on the mask could, of course, only see through the slits for the eyes, and, indeed, it sometimes happened—and in the oldest period seems to have been common—that, instead of cutting out a slit for the whole eye, there was only one for the pupil, and the iris was represented on the mask itself, and coloured, so that the actor had the difficult task of looking only through the place for the pupil; still, as the dimensions of the masks were usually larger than those of a human face, this may have been larger than his own. Of course, the masks were completely painted over; the eyebrows, lips, cheeks, wrinkles, etc., were marked; the beard and hair were made of real hair, or wool, or some other succedaneum. Some of the tragic masks had a high bunch of hair above the forehead to increase the height; this was called the “superficies” (onkos), and its object was mainly to increase the height of the actor and make him appear of greater size—an object at which many other peculiarities of the tragic costume also aimed. The ears were not always visible. The mouth was usually open, very wide, with lips and sometimes artificial teeth. The object of the great width of the mouth opening was to enable the actor to declaim and sing unhindered. The comic masks (see below, Figs. 156 and 157), very often had a funnel-shaped mouth opening, which gave a very grotesque expression to the whole face, and may have been connected with some special technical object, or else merely destined to increase the comic effect. In putting on the masks they took hold of the chin, and drew them on from bottom to top; they were then fastened under the chin with strings, and the actor’s neck was almost completely covered by the mask and his clothing; hence the curious, we might almost say asthmatic, impression given by the pictures of ancient actors.

Generally speaking, we may distinguish three kinds of masks, according to the three kinds of drama—tragic, comic, and satyric; and it is not difficult among the numerous representations of masks on ancient works of art to distinguish between these three kinds, especially since the expression is, as a rule, decisive. In the tragic masks we see calm solemnity, deep grief,

Fig. 154.