Tradition and dramatic form in the Persians of Aeschylus 9789004065864, 9004065865, 9789004668881

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TRADITION AND

DRAMATIC

FORM

IN THE PERSIANS

OF AESCHYLUS

CINCINNATI CLASSICAL STUDIES NEW

SERIES

VOLUME

IV

LEIDEN

E. J. BRILL 1982

TRADITION AND DRAMATIC FORM IN THE PERSIANS OF AESCHYLUS BY

ANN

N. MICHELINI

LEIDEN E. J. BRILL 1982

Published with financial support of the Classics Fund of the University of Cincinnati established by Louise Taft Semple in memory of her father, Charles Phelps Taft.

Michelini, Ann N. — Tradition and dramatic form in the Persians of Aeschylus / by Ann N. Michelin. — Leiden: Brill — (Cincinnati classical studies: New series; vol. 4) UDC

ISBN

792

9o 04 06586 5

Copyright 1982 by E. J. Brill, Leiden, The Netherlands

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or translated in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, microfiche or any other means without written permission from the publisher PRINTED

IN

THE

NETHERLANDS

For Dick

TABLE Preface.

.

.

OF CONTENTS

oo

I. The Persians and Literary History. I. Traditional Form in Tragedy

.........

........2...

2. Archaic Elements in the Persians 3. Trochaic Tetrameter

IX

. ........

. ...........

II. The Aesthetic Structure of the Persians

. . . . . . .

I. Paratactic Stylein Drama. ........4.2.2.. 2. Major Themes in Lineverse and Lyric. 3. The Rheseis..

. . . ..

.

4. Dramatic Art in the Persians Appendix, Plautus Capto? Bibliography

.

. . 2.

.

. . . . .. νιν

lr

nn

. . . 2 2 2 2 20... 2: 2 l.l.

..........

References to Aeschylean Plays General Index

.

νιν

.

.

.

.

.

.

. .

. ..

. 22202...

rn

PREFACE This book falls into two parts, because the tasks I set myself in writing it were two-fold. I wanted first to place the Persians in the development of Aeschylean drama and to show what it can contribute to our understanding of the history of tragedy. My other concern, pursued in the second part, was to examine the play for itself, as an independent aesthetic whole. In both studies I found the play’s structure to be determined by a dialectic between traditional form and particular form, the latter being preconditioned for the Persians by its non-mythical theme and by the objective and, in a broad sense, historical viewpoint required by that theme. While I have not considered the connections between the historical relations of Greek to Persian and the play Aeschylus wrote, I hope that I have given a clear picture of the aesthetic consequences of such a thematic choice. (It should be noted that Guido Paduano’s book, Sw Persiani di Eschilo: Problem di focalizzatione drammatica (Rome, 1978) came to my hands too late to affect the writing of this book. His assessment of Dareios' role as parent and judge, and of the themes of hubris, has several points in common with my own.) I began work on the Persians in my dissertation, written under Professor Cedric Whitman, whom I first met long ago, when I was an undergraduate at Radcliffe. Then and later, like many others, I was warmed by his kindness, spurred on by his intelligence, and inspired by the intensity of his love for Greek poetry. Of my teachers

at

Harvard,

I must

also

thank

Professor

J. H.

Finley,

and especially Professor Gregory Nagy, whose teaching showed me—moAA& te ἄλλα xai—the depth and significance of tradition and traditional form in Greek literature. Useful suggestions and criticisms came from readers such as Professors Mary Lefkowitz, George Koniaris, and Martha Nussbaum. I owe most, however, to Professor Mark Griffith, at that time

my colleague, who read the manuscript and whose advice and suggestions for changes, given most generously, helped to produce what order and coherency this book possesses. Further help, and corrections of a number of errors, were contributed by my readers, Professors

B. M. W.

Knox

and

Richmond

Lattimore.

Above

all,

I owe a great deal to the kind encouragement and support of my

X

PREFACE

colleagues at the University of Cincinnati, especially Professor Bernard Fenik. Departmental assistance in typing the manuscript came from Mary Lou Bradeen, who was efficient, swift, and perceptive. Invaluable assistance in proofreading and with the index came from Andrew McGurgan. Last thanks go to my husband for his help in preparing the manuscript. My other debt to him is not to be comprehended in this preface.

I THE PERSIANS AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

I. TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN TRAGEDY

Theories about the history of early tragedy have fallen into two schools, one that treats the early development of the art form as an orderly progression of growth and change and another that, having abandoned the idea of homogeneous development, treats tragedy as a more or less heterogeneous structure, with conflict as well as harmony traceable in the changing balance between its major components, verse and lyric. The first school is most ably represented by the work of Walter Kranz, who used Aristotle's brief summary (Poetics 1449a) to describe an organic development of tragedy out of choral lyric poetry. Gradual dramatization of the dithyrambic lyric, in this scheme, leads first to the use of trochaic tetrameter for dialogue between chorus leader and chorus, then to the separation of the leader from the chorus, and finally to the former's assumption of an independent role as actor, using the verse—iambic trimeter—most appropriate to ordinary speech. This scheme has the double advantage of hewing reasonably close to Aristotle, and of suggesting an orderly evolution in graduated stages.! For this evolution, Aeschylus own work—as long as the Suppliants could be assumed to date from the early fifth century— could provide invaluable evidence. The prominent and active chorus and the long choral odes in that play, along with the presence of many

prayer and hymnic motifs, seemed to link the Suppliants

with the early stages of tragic genesis.? Recently, however, since very plausible evidence has advanced the date of that play into the late or middle 460's, making it later than two surviving plays, a reassessment, not only of the Suppliants but of the critical theory that depended so heavily on the very early dating, has been a natural and fitting consequence.? ! KRANZ,

Lammers

14-17.

Cf.

further

work

on

the

chorus

by

Kranz's

pupil

J.

( = LAMMERS). The weakest spot in the formulation is probably

the evolution of the chorus-leader into an actor, cf. n. 64, below.

2 Cf.

A. F.

Garvie's

extensive

bibliography,

GARVIE;

on

early

critical

assessments of the play as lyric-dominated, 88 n. 1. 3 On the papyrus (Ox. Pap. 2256 fr. 3), which indicates that the Danaides was performed with works of Sophocles, cf. A. Lesky, “16 Datierung der Hiketiden und der tragiker Mesatos," Hermes 82 (1954) 1-13. A comprehen-

4

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

The most valuable result of the new dating of the play has been, not to provide critics with a certainty, but to make them uncertain about what they had previously accepted as given: that early tragedy was "'lyrical," that ritual and hymnic motifs would naturally persist through a generation of performances and in spite of the genesis of drama out of a sophisticated literary product of the early sixth century, and finally that the emotional and non-logical cast of the choral protagonist's utterances would be a necessary feature of all plays of a given period, rather than being peculiar

to the theme and treatment of the Suppliants itself. The collapse of the early dating weakened to some extent the case of the critics who predicated an orderly development out of the lyric, not so much because the date of one play made the theory any less plausible in itself, as because the contradictions to the theory within what is known of extant tragedy became once more apparent, as did the notorious failure of other Aeschylean plays to fit the model of the Suppliants. The Persians in particular is a disappointment, since it is quite similar in tone and structure to many later dramas and, in spite of its unique subject, seems to fit tirmly into the general type of tragic drama. The realization that the Suppliants could not sustain the weight of the whole theory of ancient drama which rested upon it had

already begun to affect the view of the German scholar Walter Nestle in the 1930's, long before the discovery of the papyrus fragment. Nestle’s view was less dependent from the beginning upon any single play, since he had been studying similarities and recurring patterns in the openings of plays written by all the three major dramatists, and had attempted to show changes and development over a period of generations (Struktur des Eingangs, 1930). Nestle later argued that. in contrast to the assumptions of Kranz, the prominence of the chorus in the Suppliants was unlikely to have literary-historical significance for very early drama, especially sive assessment is that of GARVIE, Ch. I, The Papyrus.”’ Garvie’s view of tragic development does not support early dating for the Suppl., although he concludes that the possibility that the didascalia refers to a revival

performance cannot be ruled out (25). On the controversy surrounding the papyrus, cf. H. van Looy, "Aeschyli Supplices. . Und kein Ende," Acta Class. 38 (1969) 489-496. The reaction of F. Earp was particularly desperate, “The Date of the Supplices of Aeschylus," G & R 22 (1953) 118-123. Earp’s conclusion that a change in the dating of one play "makes all attempts to

study literature futile," (119) if nothing else, undervalues

his own

work.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

5

since, to judge by the Oresteia, an active and prominent appeared to be a striking feature of Aeschylus' ripest art.* Nestle,

like

Zielinski

and

others

who

studied

the

chorus

structure

of

ancient drama, saw as significant the duality of tragedy, the fact that it combines in itself two divergent types of poetry, not elsewhere

associated

with

each

other,

the

1ambic

trimeter

lineverse,

and the strophic lyric.* Nestle argued that, whatever the lyrical ancestors of tragedy might have been, the uniting of lyric and trimeter marked the real beginnings of the new genre, since out of their convergence a remarkable hybrid was created. Rather than being the culminating step in an orderly development, the addition of trimeter verse thus becomes a daring innovation that in fact created tragic drama at a single stroke— “Something completely new comes into the world." $ If Themistios did cite Aristotle correctly, then ''Thespis" himself was the author of this great change, since, "he invented prologue and rhesis." 7 But it makes little difference whether the shadowy first tragedian or some other figure in the last years of the sixth century is supposed to have made the crucial change. Aeschylus himself must have found this basic structure well-established: if trimeter had been Aeschylus' own addition, Aristotle would surely have known and mentioned it, even in his summary in the Poetics. 4 The was

book,

taken

Die

from

Struktur des Eingangs

Nestle's

dissertation

( =

in dev attischen NESTLE,

Sir.).

Tragödie, His

most

(1930) mature

thought on the principles underlying his work appeared only in a review of

Stasimon

( = NESTLE,

Gno.). Here he pointed out the use of choral pro-

tagonists in Aeschylus’ latest plays and drew the natural conclusions (412). On Nestle's work, cf. A. Lesky, Tvagische Dichtung dev Hellenen (3rd ed.; Góttingen, 1972) 79, n. 4; ELSE, 6. 5 For Zielinski's work on tragedy, cf. comments below, n. 55, etc. He recognized the contrast between the episodic form of tragedy, and the epirrhematic form of comedy, Die Gliederung der altattischen Komödie ( =

ZIELINSKI,

Glied.)

193-195.

Cf.

also

LESKY;

and

SCHADEWALDT,

Mon.;

14, n. 1. Wilamowitz—Herakles I (2nd ed.; Berlin, 1895) 88—describes tragedy’s internal divisions, but works them somewhat incongruously into the

traditional

evolutionary

view;

and

cf. even

earlier,

Bethe,

zur Geschichte des Theaters im Altertum (Leipzig, 1896) 45. 6 NESTLE, Gno., 408 (my trans.). Cf. the remarks of PERETTI,

in the epirrhema an “‘irriducibile contrasto di due forme

Prolegomena

who found

espressive apparte-

nenti a due sfere diverse: quella lirico-musicale e quella giambico-epica.’’ (206). Cf. ELSE, 7; and an earlier formulation in LEsxky, 6.

7 Θέσπις

δὲ πρόλογον

acquaintance

with

καὶ ῥῆσιν ἐξεῦρεν.

Aristotle's

work,

(Or. 26, 316d) cf.

PW,

s.v.

On Them.’s wide Them.,

1649-1656

(W. Stegemann). Them. is accepted by ELSE (119, n. 2), GARVIE (103-104), and Lesxy, Tv. Dichtung (above, n. 4; 53). For an opposing view, cf. TAPLIN, 62.

6

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

A study of the Persians in its literary-historical context must then begin with the heterogeneity of tragedy as a basic given. In substituting for the elegant and persuasive model of Kranz a knot of puzzles, we must also lay aside the notion that literary development is or could be a straightforward evolutionary process. When two conflicting traditions are welded in an unstable amalgam, evolution is likely to be a tortuous and convoluted process, since each innovation must call the whole basis of the compound into question and may either necessitate re-establishing it on a new basis, or precipitate its dissolution. The position of the Persians at the very beginnings of our knowledge of tragedy’s development gives it an intrinsic importance in literary history; but the example of the Suppliants should be a sufficient warning against the arbitrary picking out of features assumed to be primitive, without reference to the rest of Aeschylus’ work or indeed to the whole of tragedy. Further, the complex course of development we have proposed for tragedy makes it necessary to understand more about the dynamics of change, before the place of the Persians in tragedy’s literary history can begin to emerge. The greater part of this first chapter, therefore, must be devoted to a study of the role of traditions and innovations in tragic drama. A.

Tragedy as a Dual Art Form The idea of the growth of tragedy out of a lyric root has obvious

historical validity. An emphasis on sequence and development need place in the light only accomplished transformations—dithyramb into drama, choral song into dialogue between actors, lyric meter into trimeter lineverse. It was most appropriate for Aristotle to use a simplified model in a condensed account: “‘For it would bea considerable task," he remarks, “to discuss this in detail.’’—8reEvévan

xaÜ' ἕκαστον. In his more lengthy treatments, Aristotle must have

paid more attention to the complications of the nearer view, a serpentine progress condensed to the πολλὰς μεταβολὰς μεταβαλοῦσα in the Poetics. But at closer critical range the fact of change from choral domination to domination by the actors must not overshadow the continuing process of adjustment. The whole history of tragedy known to us is the story of the somewhat uneasy coexistence of two elements, and every tragic play is composed in a dual medium. 5 Cf.

NESTLE,

in a straight

Gno.,

406:

line is the

".. it

becomes

development

clear

to which

far

from

proceeding

Aristotle

how

very

summarily

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

7

The heterogeneous character of tragedy can be seen in the text itself, as it appears in the surviving plays: the lyric 1s apparently written in a different dialect. When tragic poetry changes from trimeter to lyric, words usually spelled with the eia are spelled with alpha instead, and must have been so pronounced by the performers. Since the substitution of the long ὃ sound for most cases of original long à is the most obvious idiosyncrasy of the Attic-Ionic dialect group, distinguishing it from all others, the language of tragic lyric must, in contrast to that of the lineverse,

have

sounded

somewhat

alien

to

Attic

audiences.

G.

Bjgrck has made clear that the "dialectal" differences of lyric are purely surface, laid on for the most part in the commonest wordendings, and ignored where any slight confusion or obscurity might result.? Bjgrck argues strongly against any corresponding "Ionism" in trimeter portions to balance a "Doric" quality in the lyric.!? The function and effect of the alpha impurumis solely to set apart the more elaborate poetry of lyric from the trimeter. Language is merely the outward sign of a deep inward division: with "ordinary" language goes the “ordinary,” self-controlled emotive

state.!! Actor

and chorus,

when

either is using lyric, ap-

proach the dramatic situation with more emotive abandon and less logic or coherency.” A. Peretti found that the epirrhematic duets, of which seven appear in the three earliest plays, were focuses of emotive contrast, with the actor in trimeters attempting with little success to persuade or inform the chorus.? Danaos, referred with the words τὰ τοῦ χοροῦ ἡλάττωσε᾽ (my trans.). VAN GRONINGEN, 542, remarks on the history of change in the tragic art form, and 545: "Tragedy was, in the most lively period of the fifth century, the most lively genre."' (my trans.). 9 ByJ@RcK,

221:

"Das

Dorische

in

den

tragischen

Liedern

besteht

darin, das in gelaüfigen Wortendungen und in einer begrenzten Zahl von Stämmen, meist ganz gewöhnlicher Wörter, attisches n durch ἃ ersetzt wird." He cites (174) Soph. El. 1277, ἧδονάν. Cf. the remarks in Thumb-Kieckers, Handbuch dev gv. Dialekte, I, pgph. 172, pg. 220 (Heidelberg,

1932).

10 158-163,

and

223:

"Der

Iambus

der Tragóden

ist nach

Formen

und

Schreibung literarisches Attisch.”’ 11

Bjgnck

refers

to

“objektive

exist between high poetic language,

Normalprosa";

he

shows

that

affinities

and the colorful turns of vulgar speech

(301-304), going on to remark that “gerade die Lossagung von der unterscheidenden und prádizierenden Nomenklatur des Alltags ist es..." that creates the vividness of poetry (303-304). 1? SCHADEWALDT, Mon., 49; LESKY, 6-7. 13 Cf. above, n. 6.

8

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN TRAGEDY

Pelasgos, and Eteokles attempt to reason with female choruses who refuse to listen, or are unable to listen because they are possessed by fear.!* The contrast between a controlled and confident male and helpless, terrified females—by a stroke of Aeschylean art— matches socially appropriate behavior with the appropriate verse medium.!* Persuasion by the actor, when it does take place, is accomplished in a trimeter stichomythy rather than in the epirrhema.!$6 The conclusion is clear: the more intimately the two metrical components of tragedy are associated, the more their difference, and their irremediable opposition, becomes apparent. A study of tragedy is thus inevitably a study of genre as well, that is, of the tendency for distinctions between kinds of poetry to develop and, having developed, to be put to poetic use. It is through genre that literary tradition impinges on the individual work;

tone,

subject

matter,

meter,

and

language

form

a united

whole that closes the artist within certain limits and assures the accessibility of the poetry to an informed public, who understand that the style required for choral lyric differs from that of epic, or of the £asmbos.!" The danger in ignoring the question of style and genre is particularly great in the study of tragedy's development. When the choral lyric is to be combined with the narrative iambic trimeter and with trochaic tetrameter, meters developed 14 Seven 203ff., Suppl. 348ff., 733ff. The lack of communication persists in Seven 683ff., but there the chorus—who now have logic on their side— offer more coherent arguments. 15 Cf. the prominence of women in dirges and mourning ritual, M. Alexiou, The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (Cambridge, 1974) 212, n. 107. On the repression

of emotion

as a hallmark

of the male,

cf. K. J. Dover,

''Greek

Attitudes to Sexual Behavior," Avethusa (1973) 65. 16 Cf. PERETTI's discussion of the stichomythies in the Suppl., 108-116. 17 The word ''genre" has been subject to a variety of definitions, cf. the article by J. C. La Driére, in J. T. Shipley’s Dictionary of World Literary Terms, s.v. Classification (Boston, 1970). Like many others in criticism, the term is more useful than precise. VAN GRONINGEN (536) sees genre as the

εἶδος by which individual works can be tested; he lists three modes of generic change: fixation (a new genre entering literature), combination (rare, the process that produced tragedy), and dissimilation. The last may be the most fertile:

dissimilation

burlesques,

may

or moderate,

be

extreme,

as in the

as

attitude,

in

the

case

discussed

of

below,

parodies

and

of the

lyric

poet to his epic rivals. Among definitions of genre, that of R. Wellek and A. Warren in Theory of Literature (3rd ed.; N.Y., 1942) is less constricting than most: ''. ..a grouping of literary works based, theoretically, upon both outer form (specific meter or structure) and also upon inner form (attitude, tone, purpose—more crudely, subject and audience).’’ (231) Both components presumably must unite to form a true genre.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

9

by poets like Archilochos and Solon into a unified art form, it leads to great confusion to assume that the genre that displays the greatest stylistic primitivism, the lyric, must represent tragedy at an earlier stage than the genre, iambic verse, that is better developed as a vehicle for discursive thought. It was precisely this assumption that led to the notion that the Suppliants, because of its prominent chorus, static plot, and hymnic motifs, represented the type of earliest tragedy. In fact, the predominance of the lyric mode in the Suppliants gave to the play a certain tone or ethos, that typical of the lyric genre. Failure to observe the interrelation between generic and particular can create a most myopic view of literary history. H. Frankel, who understood so much about archaic literature, was not immune

to this distorting tendency, as witness his rather dismissive treatment of lyric poets such as Alkaios and Sappho, and his misleading praise of Archilochos.!? The "thoughtless mode" of Alkaios and the "clumsy" (tappisch) Alkman, presumably representing an early stage in literary progress toward connected thought, make an odd contrast to the "powerful forward momentum" of Archilochos' poetry.!? Since the attempt to impose an historical sequence of progressive stylistic sophistication had already broken down at this rather early point, the achievement of Archilochos, who developed a strongly subordinating style—and yet flourished a generation before the Lesbian poets—could be ascribed only to the genius of an exceptional individual. But the assumption that a steady progress in mental complexity occurs in literary history misses

the

ways

in

which

literary

development

actually

takes

place.?? The forceful, well-organized syntax of Archilochos' poetry 18 In his ground-breaking essay, "Eine Stileigenheit der frühgriechische Literatur," FRANKEL's observations on early style are not much harmed by his misplaced historicism; and his treatment of the erörternde style, a forerunner to later work on "ring composition," is more valuable than much that came after it. (Cf. II.1) On Alkaios’ “‘herrisch oberflächliche Zuchtlosigkeit," 54. Frankel remarked on the uneven remains of Alkaios then available;

but the pattern of disparagement remains in his later handbook, Dichtung und Philosophie des frühen Griechentums (2nd ed.; Munich, 1962). 19 FRANKEL, 58-59. The remarks on Alkman have an almost aggrieved tone. On Archilochos’ mastery of hypotactic style, ‘‘Der geniale Mann hat

den Zwang des Zeitstils halb schon überwunden. . . .Bei einer solchen frischen und grossen Kunst kann die historische Einordnung... am wenigsten gelingen’’ (57). 20 That is not to say that the grammar of Aeolic poetry, like its meters, may not be inherited from very early times (cf. G. Nagy, Comparative

IO

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

is closely connected with the tradition of iambic poetry in Ionia. The choral lyric poets, who unlike the monodists do frequently build larger structures, show by their references to breaking off or changing of theme that they are conscious of the broken or loose structure as typical of their genre. Frankel found that the lyric poets had a common habit of creating strings or series of grammatical units of equal value, with an avoidance of elaborate syntax and of verbal forms in general.?! Kranz, in his acute analysis of the charming and perhaps rather decadent late fifth century lyric in Euripides, points to almost absurdly exaggerated examples of this same style. Wilamowitz, in describing the style of one such ode (Phoinissai 647ff.) declares

that

this

“trellis-work

of

ornament,"

this

“deteriora-

tion of sentence structure" (Veródung des Satzbaus), is a feature of the tastelessly innovating poetry of the time, particularly that of Timotheos.?? Dornseiff, on the other hand, traced the same style in Pindar’s poetry, while recognizing that it belonged, not to Pindar alone, but to the choral lyric as a whole. Among lyric poets, from Sappho to Timotheos, there is a direct lineage of “weak’’ emotionalism;

decorative

language;

a loose,

serial syntax;

and

a tendency

to avoid the supposedly more cogent verbal constructions in favor of bland verbs and elaborate noun phrases, the latter often debouching into long relative clauses that may meander on, with a life of their own, and little dependence on their antecedents.?? Depending on the point of view of the critic, the style can be treated as that Studies in Greek and Indic Meter (Harvard, 1974] 131-134: it is not necessary to say that Sappho antedates Homer to argue that certain Sapphic meters are the formal antecedents of the hexameter.) 21 FRANKEL 82—on LP 357 of Alkaios: in the extreme form of this style “begnügt sich die Aufzählung mit Nominativen ohne Verbum.... Die Schilderung. .. befreit sich schliesslich sogar von dem Zwang zur Satz-

bildung." Cf. also 50, on avoidance of pause and segmentation (Gliederung). ?2 KRANZ, 289—on Aristophanes’ parodic monody as an exaggeration of Euripides’ late style—refers to “das fast eintönige, lockere Aneinanderreihen ähnliche... Kola." He remarks that ''es entsteht eine ganz eigenartige

λέξις εἰρομένη.᾽ U. von Wilamowitz-Möllendorf, Griechische Verskunst (Berlin, 1921) 281; cf. Timotheus (Leipzig, 1903) 47-48. 23 DORNSEIFF, 89: "Ein Beleg für die Liebe der Chordichtung zum einzelnen, schweren, prunkenden Wort und für ihre Scheu von Satzbewegung ist zunächst die haüfige Apposition." Cf. also 9r, on hymnic style. It is ironic that Dornseiff’s understanding as denigration

soia Review Bacchylides;

of Pindar,

cf. D.

C.

of this style has been misunderstood

Young,“

Pindaric

Criticism,"

The

Minne-

4 (1964) 605-606 — Wege der Forschung 134: Pindaros und W. M. Calder III and J. Stern, eds. (Darmstadt, 1970) 1-95.

THE

of undeveloped

or

decadent

PERSIANS

primitivism,

affectation.

AND

LITERARY

naive

While

HISTORY

directness,

such

valid in individual cases, it remains

stubborn

characterizations

II

archaism,

may

be

true that the traits described

are those of a well-defined style, fixed by a long and rich traditional history, the style appropriate to the genre of lyric poetry. Pindar and Bacchylides retained a keen sense of the contrast between their special genre and others, an awareness that became especially sharp when the lyric poet verged on forms or themes typical of the other art forms. The contrast with epic—the strongest and earliest-developed literary genre—was based not merely on language differences; it extended to moral viewpoints and even to the contrast in narrative styles.*4 In choral lyric, the application of the loose, serial style to longer poems heightened the sense of brevity and a kind of breathless speed as being appropriate marks of the genre. Bacchylides breaks off an elaborate narrative about Heracles and Meleager just short of completion, cautioning his Muse. λευκώλενε Καλλιόπα στᾶσον εὐποίητον ἅρμα [|αὐτοῦ:

(5.176) 38

The Muses’ chariot is the regular vehicle of the lyric poet. In the extraordinarily long fourth Pythian, Pindar breaks off—at the two-hundred-and-forty-seventh verse—saying, μακρά wor νεῖσθαι κατ᾽ ἁμαξιτόν. The wagon road belongs to the lengthy and ponderous narratives of epic, which cannot be transferred intact into the lyric form.?6 Chariots and wagons are much the same sort of conveyance, however; and the real opposite of lyric is, we would expect, some-

thing pedestrian, that very πεζὸς λόγος which we call prose. But, ^ BjoRcK (214ff.) argues that the determining factor in choral lyric’s choice of language is the avoidance of epic forms. For Dornseiff's list of "Sagenkorrekturen" in Pindar, cf. 122-129. E.g. Ne. 7.20-26, Ol. 9.35-41. An interesting rejection of the zambos is P.'s criticism of Archilochos, Py. 2.53-56; the poem is notable for its emphasis on ψόγος and makes frequent reference to the animals typical of the Archilochian «ivog. The poet will

use epic or iambic material, but will alter it to fit the needs of his genre. Cf. the quotation from Py. 4, immediately further below on the ''rejected alternative"

below in text, and discussion as an approach to traditional

literary forms that are being altered in some way. 25 Cf. Py. 10.65, Is. 8.67, and other references in the article by W. Burkert,

"Das Prooimion des Parmenides und die Katabasis des Pythagoras," Phronesis 14 (1969) 3, n. 6. 2° Cf. the anti-epic polemic of Kallimachos, Pfeiffer E28.

I2

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

since prose genres have not developed at the time with which we are dealing," it must be that the proper counter-genre to lyric is some kind of poetic foot-travel. The ancient derivation of the iambos from ἰών lies close at hand, reinforced by the name of the fast, "running" meter in which some iambos poetry was composed, the τροχαῖος. And in fact the term πεζός seems to belong to non-lyric poetry, before this term is applied to prose.?? Again, and especially through its contrast with lyric, the lineverse of tragedy emerges as an ancestor of prose. It should also be evident that to juxtapose the chariot and the foot-path in a single work of art is to heighten the contrast and exaggerate the traditional features of each. The trimeter's genre, the zambos, apparently originated in Ionia and is first known to us through the poems of Archilochos. We have seen that Archilochos seemed not to fit H. Frankel’s historical mold, because he wrote in a style that made greater use of subordination and less of loose, paratactic constructions.?? The zambos, which

includes

verse

in iambic

trimeter,

trochaic

tetrameter,

as

well as other mixed or epodic meters, may at one time have included even the elegiac couplet.?? All these meters are used for argument, narrative, exhortation, lampoon, or reflective thought ; it 1s difficult to make distinctions inside the genre, since Archilochos' tetrameters

are as serious or as acid as his elegiacs, and his trimeters are notable

only

for a somewhat

stronger

bent

toward

crude

obscenity.?!

27 Prose remained extremely primitive well into the fifth century, cf. FRANKEL’s analysis of Hekataios, 80; and W. Aly, Formpvobleme dev frühen griechischen Prosa (Leipzig, 1929) 29ff., on the lack of prose in the sixth century and early fifth. 28 Cf. M. Durante in Sulla preistoria della tradizione poetica greca, 11.4, "Analisi di un campo metaforico: Il discorso come 'cammino'," (Rome, 1971) 131 and 134. Also M. L. West, “‘Stesichorus,’’ CQ 21 (1971) 311. Both refer to Sophocles, TvGF 3.16 x«i πεζὰ xai φορμικτά. 29 Cf. n. r9, above. For further remarks on subordination and parataxis, cf. Ch. II.r, below.

30 Cf. K. J. Dover,

“The Poetry of Archilochus," in Avchiloque

(Entretiens

10; Fond. Hardt, 1963) 185. For another way of dividing up the genre, cf. M. L. West, Studies in Greek Elegy and Iambus (Berlin, New York; 1974) 32ff. W. connects the original sambos solely with comic and mimetic cult invective, and wishes to sever the serious trimeter, tetrameter, and elegiac poems from this basic genre. This is historically convincing, but W. admits

that even Archilochos wrote serious iambs (e.g. 24W). Since I believe that tragedy derived from the serious branch of this poetry, and since the earliest known iambic or tambos poetry exhibits both branches, I will continue to define the term broadly. 31 Cf. Dover, 183ff.; West, 25. (For references, cf. previous note.)

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

I3

Later, however, in the poetry of Solon, it does seem possible to trace a special quality in serious trimeter verse that the tetrameter and elegiac poems do not share. Solon's long trimeter fragment (36W) suggests that the Attic trimeter had already taken a new direction in the generation before the first tragic competitions, when Thespis was developing his "prologue and rhesis." H. Frankel was struck by the contrast between the tight structure of this poem and the looser serial arrangements typical of other archaic poetry, including Solon's own long elegiac poems.?? The clear, expository structure and the elaborate introduction seem a premonition of the fifth century tragic rhesis, a century before the Persians. Solon’s iambic fragment opens a self-contained argument that must have been part of a longer poem. The topic is stated in a rhetorical question: Among those aims for which I had convened the people, What did I leave unachieved ? 88 This is followed by an elaborate figure in which the Earth is called upon to bear witness that Solon freed her from the mortgage posts (ὅροι), πρόσθεν δὲ δουλεύουσα, νῦν ἐλευθέρη (7). The last word, ἐλευθέρη, states the topic for an eight line expository passage on the abolishing of debt slavery, ending ἐλευθέρους ἔθηκα (15), with the usual restatement of the topic in ring-style. The tone of the 32 FRANKEL,

75:

''Eine

einzige

Vorstellung

bleibt

ruhig.

stehen,

halt

stille, wächst und wächst bis zu mächtiger Grösse auf... .nirgends sonst in der archaischen Literatur stehen Sätze wie diese drei." Below, n. 5, he remarks that in other, apparently comparable passages ‘eine gemeinsame Richtung aller Bestimmungen auf einen Punkt fehlt." Frankel, of course, saw the anomalous quality of the iambs as due to Solon’s personality: "the man of practical life" has cast off “the heavy shackles of style." (75— My trans.) 33 36W.I-2 ἐγὼ δὲ τῶν μὲν οὕνεκα ξυνήγαγον δῆμον, τί τούτων πρὶν τυχεῖν ἐπαυσάμην;

My translation agrees with that of A. Masaracchia, Solone (Florence, 1958) 346, 354. It produces a more coherent expression, since ti todtwv—the object

of

tuyetv—corresponds

to take τί as “why’’

to

τῶν...

οὕνεκα

above.

The

alternative,

and τούτων with τυχεῖν is a feebler opening.

Solon’s

point is that he did not leave promises unfulfilled; the oath does not contradict the question ("Why did I stop?” "I did not stop!’’) but confirms it

("What did I leave undone?" "Let earth herself bear witness..."). For τυχεῖν τι cf. Kühner-Gerth (Griechische Grammatik; 3rd ed.; Leipzig, 1898) I.309-310

(A. 5).

I4

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

passage is logical and argumentative, calls on Earth to testify “at the bar exiles are categorized in two sets of who were sold legally, and those those who served abroad, and those The next lines summarize:

TRAGEDY

even forensic, since the poet of time, ἐν δίκῃ Xoóvov." The oppositions: there were those who served illegally (9-10); who served at home (ro, r3).

ταῦτα μὲν κράτει ἔρεξα καὶ διῆλθον ὡς ὑπεσχόμην:

(17)

The phrase is a resumption of the first lines, answering the rhetorical question asked there. The style, with its recapitulation of opening themes or words, is common to many tragic speeches, and, as H. Frankel noted, rare in poetry of this era.?* The poem is written as a powerful and well-argued defense of Solon’s policies; it is "rhetorical" before the art of rhetoric had been created, just as the trimeter of tragedy is "prosaic" before the development of formal prose genres, often anticipating the techniques of prose and clearly preceding it in sophistication.?? The trimeters of Solon strongly confirm that the verse was very early notable for its structured style and that in more even than language or name tragic trimeters correlate to tragic lyric as prose to poetry. Trimeter is opposed to lyric—and to epic as well—in its simpler, less elaborate vocabulary, and in its use of a correspondingly ornate and patterned syntax that dwells on antithesis and logical subordination. But, from another angle, the original opposition of the epic and lyric genres 1s recapitulated in the new juxtaposition of lyric and trimeter, since the trimeter and the epic hexameter 34 For

the

form,

cf.

Dareios'

speech,

Pe.

759ff.;

Eteokles

in

the

Seven

187-195, 266-279; Ag. 810-829, 551-573, etc. On the extension of ring-form style in the Persians, cf. II.r, below. 85 Cf. J. Finley, Three Essays om Thucydides (Harvard, 1967) 111. F. pointed out that Sophocles and Euripides are our best early evidence for Attic rhetoric before Gorgias. But Solon’s fragment suggests that the "rhetoric" in the trimeter speech may antedate prose rhetoric altogether. Solon seems to have used verse as an instrument of public policy, as later

statesmen This

was

used

prose, cf.

natural,

dissemination

since

IW,

there

of the prose

κόσμον was

no

language

ἐπέων f δὴν f ἀντ᾽ tradition

of public

for the

speech

ἀγορῇς

θέμενος.

preservation

(ἀγορή).

Cf.

and

E. A.

Havelock, Preface to Plato (Harvard, 1963) 121ff., although H. seems to argue that verse was the ordinary medium for all public communications;

Solon’s apology, above, suggests otherwise.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

I5

are both suited to discursive style.?9 In tragedy, extension and length become as strongly marked characteristics of the trimeter rhesis as brevity is of the non-dramatic choral lyric. The phrase UaKeay. . «ἔτεινας Or a variant appears occasionally as a resumptive formula—most strikingly in the Oresteia, with its many brilliant long speeches—at the close of a rhesis or a lengthy portion of a rhesis, usually marking the return to stage activity after a particularly long, or particularly extraneous, or particularly enthralling rhesis.?" A further hint of association with epic may be found in the Aeschylean catalogue speeches, which are extraordinarily profuse in the Persians.?® Catalogue poetry, a whole subgenre in the Hesiodic school of epic, uses a more primitive means of ordering than the narrative and makes less attempt to subordinate. But the meandering form of the list, with its orderly and precise pace,—and its tendency to indefinite extension—is as alien to the livelier and shorter movements of lyric as is the subordinating style.?? We have therefore in tragedy two strikingly opposed kinds of verse, one emotive, non-logical, and intense—the very essence of poetic tone; the other—like the prose it anticipated and inspired—1matterof-fact or cold in tone, structurally elaborate, lexically simple, and retaining the epic quality of extension and discursiveness.*?

36 Emphasis on the trimeter as a surrogate for epic has been wide-spread, and may at times have obscured the special qualities of iambic poetry, notably its tighter organization and argumentative style. Cf. PERETTI, 203, 206; references in L. di Gregorio, Le scene d’annuncio nella tragedia greca (Milan, 1967) II, n. 37. SCHADEWALDT, Urs., 115-119, places great emphasis on the epic qualities of the Pe.; but we should—as I have suggested above— beware of generalizing too much from a single play. In the absence of mythic background, the many epic touches in Pe. (catalogues, heroic epithets, and the like) provide extra color. More significant is the presence of catalogue speeches in other plays. 37 Cf. the discussion MICHELINI, 530-537. The passages include Ag. 829, 916,

1296;

Eum.

707;

Soph.,

Atas

1040.

Rejection

of

rhesis

form,

Eur.,

Med. 1351; Aesch., Suppl. 273. On these overt references to structure, cf. remarks below and discussion of references to choral brevity in I.2, below. 38 Outside of Pe., whose catalogue speeches are discussed II.3 below, most others are geographical: Suppl. 240ff., Ag. 281; cf. Prom. 700ff. etc. The lists of heroes in Pe. are much closer to epic models. 39 A point made by DORNSEIFF, 124. *9 On the elements of "poetic" style, cf. BJ@RcK, 303-311. The vagueness

of high style and its avoidance of familiar and precise terms leads to an ntensification of feeling (303).

16

B.

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

Chorus and Actor

In tragedy the juxtaposition of two poetic languages signals the incommensurability of the two halves of the theater. The

existence of a separate art-language for choral lyric explains only in part the phenomenon of the alpha impurum, since in drama alone and nowhere else in Greek literature, does such a contrast between

art-languages occur in a single work. While the separate identities of lyric and trimeter are a valuable critical tool for the understanding of tragedy, the preservation of these identities within a single whole depends upon and is supported by a bifurcation in the whole tragic performance between two different performances, one of a single individual and one of a group.*4 The actor was certainly alone, at least through the early years of Aeschylus’ career, for we know that the addition of the second performer was attributed to Aeschylus himself. That the lone actor was in fact the playwright himself is worth taking into account. Early Greek poetry was of two kinds, that performed by the composer, and that performed by a trained group, usually under the instruction of the composer. Tragedy was during this period a combination of the two modes; the difference between the author-performer and the others massed beside him is essential to the performance and is obscured only partially by the assumed identities of each in the drama.* The appropriate medium for the author-performer was the lineverse, while that of the chorus was the lyric. While each had a limited ability to participate in the world of the other, a glance at the structure of any tragic play reveals the rather crude way in which the two halves of the performance are interleaved. The “scenes’ of tragedy are ἐπεισόδια, or entrance to the chorus (Eretoodot) of the actor. By no accident, the major portion of the lyric is performed when the actor is, in most cases, off the stage preparing 41 The actor appears to have had something to stand on—though not a stage, cf. references in TAPLIN, 448-449. Of course, if the early chorus was

a fifty-person group, the contrast between individual and group could only have been enhanced,

cf. LAMMERS

52ff., 149, etc.; and A. D. Fitton- Brown,

“The Size of the Greek Tragic Chorus," CR 7 (1957) 1-4. F.-B. tends to accept the reference in Pollux (IV.rro); for a contrary view, cf. TAPLIN, 203, and n. 2. 4? Cf. M. Lefkowitz,

“ΤΩ

KAI

EIQ:

The First Person in Pindar," HSCP

67 (1963), for an analysis of the poet's voice in choral lyric. CAPONE believed that long

the audience saw narrations, rather

drama,

however,

the one

the author-performer as 'aede o cantore (r2)" of than as the embodiment of a mythical figure. In does

not necessarily

exclude

the other.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

17

another ἐπείσοδος. 3 The utility of this layered structure in a single-actor theater is clear enough: the actor must remove himself in order to become somebody else. In a typical instance of the complementary and antithetical relation between the two components, the actor makes several exits and entrances, but the chorus hardly ever leave the stage, once they have entered.** Thus, not only identity change, but a view of the outside and interior worlds, the inside of the palace or the world beyond the palace gates, are open to the actor, but closed to the choral group. The dialect-changes between lyric and trimeter no longer seem incongruous, when they can be observed to parallel a strong polarization of function that expresses itself over and over in the stage arrangements.

The dual nature of tragic drama made it more unstable than the poetry that had gone before it, more liable to change, and more fertile of new arrangements. Aeschylus himself was perhaps the major innovator: by the introduction of the second actor, he set in motion a process so complex that, within his own work, it was never fully completed. It may at first have seemed a natural and even a trivial improvement over the resources of actor/chorus drama that the dramatist should hire an actor to assist him. The rather static form of the epersodos could be enlarged and made more flexible, if it was possible for another character to enter to the chorus without the necessity of taking the first off. But the change affects the drama in more extensive ways. In plays with two actors, separate events are no longer encapsulated by the choral performance. Changes of focus can now occur without the mediation of lyric, so that the relation between the

original

two

members,

chorus

and

actor,

is disturbed.

Since

43 Cf. ZIELINSKI, Glied., a comparison of the forms of tragedy and comedy, 5 and 193. On the actor's exit during lyrics, cf. TAPLIN, 110-113; he points out that actors remain present during about one third of ‘‘act-dividing songs," although this proportion is lower for Aeschylus. 44 The extraordinary circumstances that lead a chorus to leave the stage

are marked by the special name for their song on return, the ‘‘epiparodos,”’ cf. LAMMERS, 29. TAPLIN feels that the term applied only to post-classical tragedy; he lists all instances, 375ff.

45 One of the disservices of early dating for the Suppl. was to obscure the importance of this signal innovation, since Aeschylus was thought to be employing it with some dexterity in a very early play. For the importance

of the change, cf. H. D. F. Kitto, Greek Tragedy (3rd ed.: London, 31ff. and G. F. Else, ""YIIOKPITH»," WS 72 (1959) 103.

1961)

IS

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN TRAGEDY

in the earliest tragedy actor and chorus were united by the fact of the performance, and by the tragic event which they jointly celebrated and presented, direct interaction between the two might have been less necessary than we might think. The addition of a second figure comparable to the actor—as the chorus clearly is not—is disruptive of the equilibrium. The new theater thus formed offers the prospect of a rich variety of alignments, in which the two actors and the chorus play off against one another. In a situation of conflict, the actors can unite against the chorus, as they do in the last scene of the Agamemnon. Or either can combine with the chorus against the other, as when King Pelasgos rescues the Danaids from the Egyptian menace. Or the actors can confront the chorus separately, as in most of the Eumenides, where Apollo and Orestes alternate as adversaries with very different status, and Athene remains in a more neutral position as judge. Finally, the actors can ignore the chorus and confront each other. But scenes concentrating on two actors are rare in Aeschylean plays.*® The opposition of individual and group remains central for his theater,

and what

we think of as most

basic to drama,

the inter-

action of actors, remains peripheral. Changes in the roles of the chorus and actor necessarily produced new relations between the lyric and the iambic poetry in tragedy. A greater elaboration of the lyric can be traced in Aeschylus’ later plays. Nestle pointed out the similarities between the Oresteia and the Suppliants, particularly in their use of extended and elaborate lyrics, and their activist choruses.*? This seems of course to contradict the direct statement of Aristotle that the general effect of Aeschylus’ work was to diminish the role of the chorus in favor of the iambic element, the actors and the plot. And indeed the final result of the four-fold increase in the opportunities for interaction brought about by the addition of another actor was a reduction in the importance and even in the relevance of the lyric. But, while change in tragedy was vigorous and continual throughout the fifth century, it did not occur in a straight line. The expansion of the chorus length and of the choral role in late Aeschylus

is a phenomenon of compensation: with changes in the nature of the theater,

the chorus

reestablishes

its function

on a new

once part of its original raison d’étre has been undermined. 46 Cf. I.2, below. 47 NESTLE, Gno., 414-415.

basis,

The

THE

balance between

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

lyric and trimeter,

HISTORY

IO

the union between

irreconcil-

ables on which tragedy rests, 15 reasserted continually throughout the century, and the victory of the trimeter over the lyric, while increasingly evident, is never unequivocal. A similar process of adjustment produced a new prominence for lyric,

and

a significant

archaizing

trend,

in the

late work

of

Euripides. By the 420's the importance and length of choral odes had been greatly reduced, while increasingly intricate plots, making full use of three-actor scenes, had diminished still further the chorus' role as interlocutor.*? It is at this point, however, that an expansion of the actor's solo lyric (monody) takes place, while a revival of tetrameter dialogue varies the effect of lineverse scenes.*9 In the last period, longer and more impressive choral odes are introduced in some plays, although often, as in the Phoinissat, they deal with remote and distant vistas of myth. The odes of that play, sung by a chorus of Phoenician aliens, are singularly beautiful and inconsequent: a painful quarrel between Eteokles and Polyneikes is directly followed by a charmingly naive lyric about Kadmos and the dragon.?? The "unexampled flowering of choric art" 5! in Euripides’ late plays moves the chorus towards the foreground, while allowing it to remain alienated from the drama. Such compensatory increases in the use of lyric did not reestablish permanently the functional balance between spoken and sung meters, now lost to tragedy, any more than Aeschylus' long, elaborate lyrics in the Agamemnon represent an actual reversal of his own role in change. In the diachronic view, the lyric is doomed; but it continues to play a vigorous synchronic role in the whole course of extant tragedy. 48 On growing complication in Euripidean plots, cf. H. Strohm, Euripides: Interpretationen zur dramatischen Form (Munich,1957) 121. Agathon’s ἐμβόλιμα (which clearly suggest the reuse of certain favorite odes in two or more

plays) are a more extreme example of the decline of choral poetry. (Poetics

14562. 30)

49 KRANZ;

4, III

passim.

K.

points

out that

the

retreat

of the chorus

entails the substitution of other “musical pieces." (229) The Ovestes contains a “lyrical

messenger's

speech,"

112.

Cf.

232:

"Wir

sind

in der

Zeit einer

Umgestaltung der euripideischen Tragödie überhaupt. ..der Neubelebung ältester Formen, also einer Stilruckwandlung. . .”’ 50 Phoin. 6381f. 531 KRANZ, 228.

20

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN TRAGEDY

C. Innovation and Tradition

The interplay between opposing poetic styles in tragedy leads to a lively literary history because of the inherent momentum toward change in such an anomalous art form. But the duality of tragedy, and the dialect division persisting between its two halves, is also a convincing proof of the tenacity of Hellenic literary tradition. Like table manners, literary formalities are social matters, involving areas of behavior that unite members of a culture in implicit agreements about appropriateness; and it is the paradox of such unstated conventions to be most apparent when most under challenge.°? In drama, a dynamic art form continually developing and thus continually off-balance, the tacit understanding between author and audience becomes more and more explicit; and the artist may use the traditional form as a basis of communication, even when he is departing from it. Traditional form in art, like social propriety and language usage, is intrinsically valuable and needs no justification outside fitness. Inappropriateness to poetic tradition can be sensed, often as Inappropriate behavior is sensed, without a conscious awareness— on the part of those who reject the behavior, or the poetry—of what is wrong. It is not necessary to formulate specific reasons for such a failure, since the pattern against which success is measured is only intuitively perceived. H. Frankel at one point remarks that the artist, like his public, is usually unable to establish a set of specifications for his work: Even when he changes, rewords, and corrects, the artist often has no idea under what laws he works or according to what principles he acts. He only knows that his work is not yet as it should be.* Sophocles played on this in his riposte to Euripides. The other— out of a conscious conviction about literary method, no doubt— 5? On

this paradox,

cf. VAN

GRONINGEN,

541:

“Tradition

is steadfast

where it seems least important. . ." (My trans.). Cf. also his remark at 538 on the social bond that literary tradition creates between performer/author and audience. 583 FRANKEL, 66 n. 2: ''Selbst wenn er ändert, umformt und zurechtrückt,

hat der Kunstler oft keine Ahnung nach welchen wie

es sein

Prinzipien er handelt.

soll."

When

the

artist

unter welchen Gesetzen er steht und Er weiss nur, dass es noch nicht so ist

is forced

to explain

himself,

he

may

hit

upon ridiculous things, peripheral matters that have struck him at the point

at which, “sein Instinkt zu Ende ist und die Überlegung einsetzt.”

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

2I

portrays humans ὥς εἰσιν, "as they are." Sophocles shows them, “as they are supposed to be," we det. The prescription implies not only tenets of social morality but also the equally obligatory requirements of literary tradition. Where traditional form does come into question, as it often must in such a dynamic art form as tragedy, its residual strength and value remains great. The result is very often a curious blend of old and new, in which it is possible to make out from time to time a kind of stratification of literary history. New forms seldom oust the old altogether. To introduce without preliminary an innovatión or alteration into the tradition is to risk the impression that an error has been made through ignorance. Further, the rich background of the past will be lost to the innovator who strikes off on his chosen path without a backward glance. T. Zielinski pointed out that these difficulties can be overcome, if the new work makes an allusion to the expected version, bringing in the tradition obliquely, where it can be left reverberant in the audience's minds.55 The juxtaposition of the old and new may even become quite explicit, especially where the specific previous version of a literary predecessor or competitor is at issue: Saepe etiam ipsius poetae interesse videtur, ut non inscius aut superbus antecessoris operam reliquisse credatur, sed consulto id egisse, ut pro deterioribus meliora poneret. The Sophoclean and Euripidean treatment of Aeschylus' recognition device in the Libation Bearers is an example of this direct approach: in each case the tokens by the grave are suggested as evidence of 54 The anecdote is Poet. 1460b 34. There is of course an ambivalency between ''as they are supposed to be (morally)'" and "as they are supposed to be made (artistically)." But for a traditional artist, the two are one. Remarks appropriate to a given occasion are τὰ δέοντα: cf. Thuc. 1.22, Isocrates 5.25. Another story, from Chamaileon, (Ath. 22B), uses ta δέοντα: Sophocles scoffs at Aeschylus, ei xai τὰ δέοντα ποιεῖ, ἀλλ᾽, οὐκ εἰδώς ye. The

two separate anecdotes delineate the sense in which Sophocles' art may be said to be “‘classic’’: he is a conscious analyst of tradition, while remaining loyal to its demands. 55 Cf. quote below in text.

56 ZIELINSKI, Tvag. τ. Z. saw his idea of loca rudimentalia (An explanation, for what it is worth, of this curious term appears in "The Reconstruction of the Lost Greek Tragedies," Zielinski's Oxford lecture [1926], reprinted in Eus Suppl. 2 [1931] Ivesione 1.425.) as a key to the plotting of lost tragedies. This involved him in a multitude of circular arguments that quite

fail to do justice to the fertile principle stated on the first page of his essay.

22

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN TRAGEDY

Orestes’ presence, only to be rejected as implausible by Elektra." The device is similar in effect to the recusatio motif in later poetry— where a theme is treated through a "refusal" to make use of it—in that what is denied is nonetheless powerfully present. The need in this case to defend the weak, new version against the prescriptive power of the past may force the innovator to become a critic of tradition. But criticism itself is a kind of homage to the powers of convention: the prior version is in use, even while it is transcended.

Revision of traditional forms—in the structure or in the content of plays—always tends to be less than thorough-going. The inherited form, like an old building, is patched only at points of strain; and elements may remain that have lost their connection with the altered structure. As Zielinski put it: "Saepe inter novae superficiei parietes et columnas emergunt vetustioris architecturae neglecta rudera." °® But neglecta, with its suggestion of oversight, may be too strong a term. The older elements of plot or structure may no longer function as parts of a system; but until these elements come into direct conflict with the newer direction of dramaturgy, the value intrinsic in their familiarity requires that they be retained. The original form of tragedy, the interleaving of actor and chorus, became functionally obsolescent as soon as the second actor appeared; but in fact forms derived from this original arrangement remained a powerful, though gradually weakening, stylistic influence throughout the fifth century. Eventually, as change progresses, a point may be reached at which some traditional practice becomes incongruous or comes into conflict with newer practices. It is at this point that things originally appropriate, traditional, and therefore unquestioned may come into a sharper focus; and an attempt may be made to explain or remotivate plausibly what at one time required no such support. The generally passive, observing role of the chorus, for instance, may suddenly seem incongruous if death cries are heard off-stage, or if an intrigue is set underway that would not normally be shared with strangers.°? Very striking examples of the jar between normal 57 On variation of earlier forms in drama, cf. Armin Vógler, Vergleichende Studien zur sophokleischen und euripideischen Elektra (Heidelberg, 1967) 122-136; and W. H. Friedrich, Euripides und Diphilos; Zur Dramaturgie der Spätformen 58

ZIELINSKI,

(Zetemata 5, Trag.;

1953)

1-9.

I, 1.

59 For death cries, cf. the new use of a stage building by Aeschylus. The chorus of the Or. were now uncomfortably close to the ‘‘off-stage’’ action,

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

23

dramatic coherence and traditional form can be found outside tragedy in old comedy, where the poets begin to joke about the traditional parabasis or choral approach to the audience. If some comic poet of old times had forced us to come over to the house to say our verses, he would not have won his point lightly; but now the poet is worthy (&&to0c).& The rejected idea of the constraint imposed by some old-time poet is simply a personalization of the force of tradition, which is here very keenly felt, since the parabasis is a dying convention, soon to be modified and eventually to be eliminated altogether.5! Meanwhile, it can be used as a joke. Tragedy is not able to be so directly self-conscious as comedy, and its inherited structure is both less elaborate and less subject to radical change. But the conventions of one-actor drama are still often visible in several of Aeschylus' early plays, as are points at which these conventions are being altered to admit an ever-more-elaborate dramatic scene. In spite of the vigorous process of development in Aeschylean drama, there is a powerful force for conservatism as well. On the one hand, the natural tendency of the chorus to lose its significance once

the

actor

acquires

another,

more

interesting,

interlocutor

is

countered in Aeschylean plays by the introduction of more ambitious lyrics as well as by the enhancement of the choral role and personality. On the other, at precisely the areas in the plays where changes occur and innovation is the strongest, tradition and its imperatives are also felt most keenly and understood most clearly. TAPLIN, 323-324. For adjurations to silence in Euripides, cf. Hipp. 71i2ff., Med. 259ff., El. 272-273, etc. 60 The interpretation of G. M. Sifakis (Parabasis and Animal Choruses; A Contribution to the History of Attic Comedy; London, 1971) seems to me perverse. (61-66) S. takes Knights 508ff. literally: the comic poet is not obliged to make a parabasis and therefore the parabasis is not a traditional feature of comedy. But this misses the point of the joke. Cf. Plato Com. 92K, a more straightforward approach:

εἰ μὲν μὴ λίαν. . -ὦνδρες, ἠναγκαζόμην στρέψαι δεῦρ᾽, οὐκ ἂν παρέβην εἰς λέξιν τοιάνδ᾽ ἐπῶν. Aristoph. brags that to make a traditional parabasis for traditional reasons would be silly; only in view of his own great desert (cf. also Peace 736-738) does the tradition make sense. But of course the claim to deserve well of

the audience

(ἄξιος εἶναι) is precisely the traditional burden

of this part

of the parabasis; cf. Ach. 633, Knights 509, Clouds 525, Peace 738. Cf. HANDEL,

93-97. 61 For the modified parabasis, cf. Birds 684ff., Thes. 785ff.

24

TRADITIONAL

FORM

IN

TRAGEDY

The social bond of the tradition that links an author to predecessors, rivals,

and

audience

tends

to reassert

itself even

in the

midst

of

change.9? The work of Aeschylus is thus both innovative and deeply expressive of an inherited form that was to be drastically altered by his changes. D.

The Persians

Having analyzed some of the effects of tragedy's heterogeneity on its literary development, we may now turn to the oldest play, to see whether the balance between lyric and trimeter prevailing there is different from that maintained in the later Aeschylean plays, plays that were after all produced within a decade or so of the Persians. The most superficial view of the play shows at least one quite significant difference: while other Aeschylean plays use trimeter almost exclusively in lineverse scenes, the Persians makes a rather heavy use of a second lineverse meter, the trochaic tetrameter. The balance between trimeter and lyric is likely to be affected by this singularity, and we should reasonably expect to find that in this play the process of adjustment between the two halves of the art form is indeed at some earlier stage in the spiral or zig-zag sequence of change and compensation. The theory of W. Kranz offered a ready explanation for the

important role Aristotle ascribed to the tetrameter in early tragedy: the more musical tetrameter had been used by the chorus leader in early epirrhematic dialogue with his chorus; later, when chorus leader became actor, he abandoned the earlier meter for the tri-

meter. But, if tragedy developed out of an early and ineradicable split between two most dissimilar poetic forms, and if the actor cannot be traced in any effective way back to the chorus,9^ then 62 Cf. VAN GRONINGEN,

n. 52 above; and pg. 542, on the relation between

artist and audience: "The normalizing force of the group restricts and limits and directs him [the artist] so that he in fact produces what is needed and can be used [by the tradition )."' (My trans.). For other references to Aeschylus and

his relation

to tradition,

cf. CAPONE,

12;

Aspects of the Dramatic Art of Aeschylus," sees tradition as an awkward inheritance

and

R. T. Stephenson,

''Some

(Stanford, 1913) 8. The latter that handicaps the genius—a

common viewpoint among moderns. Artistic "conventions," like the conventions of language, are a system for communication, and one that Aeschylus manipulated to excellent effect. 68 For a fuller treatment of Aristotle's below.

KRANZ

64 Cf. LESKY,

on tetrameter,

4; GARVIE,

17, and

IO5.

2off.

remarks

on

tetrameter,

cf.

1.3

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

25

what can have been the role of this meter which Aristotle states to have been supplanted by the trimeter ? ® In the Aristotle seems to be concentrating on the broad outline of and to disregard a period, of which we catch a glimpse Persians,

in which

trimeter

and

tetrameter

coexisted.

clearly Poetics, change in the

Indeed,

if

the reference in Themistios to the early "prologue and rhesis" is accurate, that period would extend over the whole history of Attic tragedy down to the Persians, since the tetrameter, as it

appears in the Persians and elsewhere, shows few signs of fitness for the lengthy and highly organized narrative form typical of the rhesis.96 Whether or not the tetrameter was ever the sole or even the dominant lineverse meter in tragic—or pre-tragic—performances, the meter had, by the time of the Persians, been fully integrated with the trimeter. Such a state of affairs is a natural result of the process in which traditional features were reactivated and reassimilated into new artistic forms as tragedy developed. Since this process of evolution tends to obscure any straight path of

development, it is most unlikely that the uses of tetrameter in the drama of Thespis, or possibly even in pre-tragic dithyrambic performances, could be recaptured by a study of the Persians. But the presence of tetrameter does help to make apparent the workings of the dual art form—as Aeschylus and his surviving successors employed it—and to set off the nature of the iambic trimeter itself, by a contrast with a closely related verse. Since adjustment between lyric and trimeter 1s quite inseparable from the adjustment between actor and chorus, and of course from the development of a role for the second actor, it is not surprising to find that, in this respect too, the Persians shows interesting signs of primitivism. While the play uses two actors, its manner of bringing the two together contrasts rather vividly with scenes in the later Aeschylean plays. The assimilation of the additional actor by actor/chorus tragedy is marked in the Perstans by the kind of formal treatment that usually marks a point of strain, or of innovation, in the traditional fabric. As actor meets actor, we can make out the brief false start in which an older version is simultaneously proffered and discarded, in favor of a modification.

The use of tetrameter dialogue does not produce any corresponding 85 τό te μέτρον ἐκ τετραμέτρον ἰαμβεῖον ἐγένετο (1449a 21) 66 On

the

structure

of Aeschylean

tetrameter

speeches,

cf.

1.3

below.

26

TRADITIONAL FORM IN TRAGEDY

signs of change, nor should it, if the role of the tetrameter in this

play is a traditional one. But dialogue forms in the Persians contrast oddly with the formal patterning that prevails in the other Aeschylean plays. It is in fact in the later plays that we can find significant references to extension in the actor’s speeches or to brevity in those of the chorus, indications of a problem in adjustment between actor and chorus that remained for Aeschylean tragedy after the disappearance of the tetrameter.®’ $7 The plays considered will be the five extant dramas, omitting the Prometheus Bound. For detailed analysis of the stylistic anomalies of the Prom., cf. Mark Griffith, The Authenticity of the Prometheus Bound (Cambridge Classical

Studies,

1977).

References

to the

Prom.

in this book

occur

at 1.2,

n. II and n. 28. The text of the Persians throughout will be that of BROADHEAD, except where otherwise noted. For the Aeschylean plays, the text will be that of PAGE.

2. ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN THE PERSIANS

The Perstans is the earliest play by only a few years, but it was created in a time of great changes for tragedy. It seems most

unlikely that the introduction of a second actor would have been accepted by the conservative guardians of the tradition, the Athenian audience, unless such a major innovation was supported by the prestige of a successful and established playwright. Aeschylus did not win his first victory until 484; ! and it was therefore probably at some point after that, that he ventured to engage a helper. Not much more than a decade then is likely to separate the Persians from the beginnings of two-actor drama. We have seen that change does not follow immediately on the introduction of a new structural element, and that the old form of one-actor tragedy might remain valid for a long time. While it is likely that other plays written in the same period were considerably more complex than the Persians, still Aeschylus did not have to reach very far back to find the simpler dramatic forms that emerge quite clearly in this play. In the single-actor or episodic play, the first actor had to be got off before any new personage could enter; and the structure of such a play would therefore tend to consist of a series of entrances, usually of different persons, bearing information without which the drama could not progress.” The Persians uses this traditional plot, in a version modified for two actors. Three major scenes center on the arrival of a character who brings news or information; and in each case the newly-entered actor dominates, while the actor already on stage acts as interlocutor. The Persian queen, Xerxes’ mother, is dominant in the first scene—when she is the sole

actor—and plays the secondary role, first to a Messenger, and then to the ghost of her husband Dareios, as each brings news about Persian defeats in Greece. While serving as interlocutor, the Queen delivers no long speeches; * her role, which in these scenes is that 1 In the Marmor Parium, FGrHist, 239 (ep. 60). ? Cf. Ch. I.1 above, and further remarks on episodic structure, below, II.r. 3 Cf. GARVIE, 126. 4 The name of Xerxes’ mother, Atossa, is never mentioned in the play. To use it in referring to her may add some spurious color to the role, cf. WILAMOWITZ, 48. Her longest speech to another actor is 290-298; there is another of 8 lines at 472ff. (Presumably the Mess. has left when she delivers

her longer speech at 517ff., cf. TAPLIN, 88ff.).

28

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN THE

PERSIANS

of questioner or informant, could, in her absence, easily have been assumed by the chorus. Thus, except for commentary surrounding

the Queen’s entrances and exits, the play is a good model for what we may reasonably imagine actor-chorus drama to have been. The meager use made of the second actor is the sign of an early stage in the gradual adjustment of tragedy to its new resources, a stage at which the original balance between actor and chorus had not yet been severely changed, the aesthetic of actor-chorus drama remaining almost intact.? This means that the later Aeschylean devices—though they were probably already being developed in 472—were not needed in the Persians.® The choral personality in this play is a case in point: instead of the vigorous and passionate groups of later Aeschylean plays, the chorus are timid counsellors, such as are familiar from their appearance in any number of Sophoclean and Euripidean plays.’ Then, too, a whole scheme of formal arrangements designed to support the active chorus is present in the other plays, and absent here. We are picking up the spiral process of development at a different point. The Aeschylean chorus typically dominates dialogue and serves as the mediator between two or even three actors on stage in the same scene.® But the notorious Aeschylean reluctance of actors to address one another is apparently quite absent from the Persians. The Queen serves as interlocutor in both scenes with other actors, and in the Messenger's scene she takes part 1n the longest unbroken 5 The assumption that actor-chorus drama must have been flat or monotone is of course quite untenable and is based on the assumption that without conflict and suspense there could be nothing in drama to interest an audience. Cf.

GARVIE,

115;

and

the

criticisms

of TAPLIN,

207.

The

Pe.

gives

idea of the satisfactions of a ''static" play; its greatest weakness, is in the lyric and must be due,

not to its age, but to its non-mythical

cf. II.2, below. 6 Cf. NESTLE, Sív., 108. A comparison of the conservative radical L.B. is à sufficient indication that dramas produced

a faint

however, theme,

Ag. and the in the same

period could be very differently designed. Pe.'s form is probably related to its status as a historical play, cf. II.1, below. ? The Ag. uses the same type of chorus, but their role—especially in the second half of the play—is a much more vigorous one than that of the Persian elders. For the sort of chorus I mean, who give not-very-useful

advice, cf. Eur. Hipp., Med. and almost any Sophoclean play, except Oed. Col. II.

5 Cf. 93;

H. Droysen, “Die Tetralogie" Z Alt 2 (1844) 97-123 = KI. Schr. H. D. F. Kitto, Greek Tragedy (1st ed.; London, 1939) 106-108;

GARVIE, 133 and n. 1; and MICHELINI, 530.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

29

confrontation of two actors in Aeschylus.® There is a protracted alternation of long speeches, interspersed with brief transitional dialogues, extending for 225 lines, all carried on without help from the chorus, who fall silent after the beginning of the scene. The retreat of the chorus from the lineverse scenes in the middle of the play is so persistent that, between line 290 and their entry into dialogue in the last scene of the play (787), they speak only one lineverse couplet, a brief comment that probably marks the exit of the Messenger after his last speech (515-516). But the chorus’ inactivity does not contradict the fact that interaction between actors is generally avoided in Aeschylus. The Persians has little interesting stage business between protagonists, since the Queen, in the latter part of the play, functions primarily as the same sort of interlocutor the chorus themselves would ordinarily be.!? Instead of the usual pattern of vigorous involvement between actors and the chorus— which thus becomes itself an “‘actor’’—in the Perstans an actor takes on the role, common to all tragic choruses, of informant and questioner. That the second actor should be a surrogate for the chorus is a natural and obvious first solution: the old actor-chorus dialogue is simply reconstituted with actor facing actor. But on what basis is the chorus to be thrust aside and the new actor preferred? At this point in the Perstans, we can clearly make out the old in the new; in each case, the intervention of a second actor is marked by a curious false start, a variant on Zielinski’s alternate version, in

which the new is commended to the audience by a more or less overt comparison with the old. Both times, when an actor enters to another actor already on stage, the entering actor first addresses the chorus but later transfers attention to the other actor, who— it is hinted—has a better claim to be interlocutor. In the first case,

the Queen enters the dialogue after an epirrhema between Messenger and chorus. She makes an odd remark: σιγῶ πάλαι δύστηνος ἐκπεπληγμένη ? Agamemnon

κακοῖς,

and Klyt., who both address the chorus first, are together

in the "carpet" scene for only 165 lines. Most comparable might be the 14 speeches of the Seven

(375-677), which extend

303 lines, before the chorus

speaks in trimeter. But the chorus takes part, by adding epirrhematic lyric comment throughout.

10 The Queen’s exit takes her off before Xerxes can enter, thus shunting off what would have been the most exciting human encounter in the play; cf. discussion, II.4, below.

30

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN

THE

PERSIANS

"] have long been silent, in my wretchedness, overcome by evils, for this event surpasses (our capacity) to speak or ask what has happened" (290-292). The explanation is certainly psychologically persuasive—but what is being explained ? In the forty-five lines since the Queen last spoke, the Messenger has announced the disaster; and an epirrhematic duo has expressed the emotional force of this dreadful moment, the chorus singing brief snatches of woe, the Messenger confirming the truth of what he has already said. While the epirrhema continued, the Queen's silence was self-explanatory. Epirrhemas in Aeschylus do not include two actors, so that there can have been no psychological significance in the Queen's failure to take part, and no need for explanation. That the Queen should have been shocked is natural; but in terms of the play’s conventions no silence has occurred. The Queen's words remind us of something usually accepted without comment as a formal axiom of the dual art form: while the lyric mode is operating, the coherence of the iambic scene cannot maintain itself. The Queen claims for herself a normal emotional response to a disaster, namely shock and inarticulateness. But she is in fact counselling resistance to emotion. The lyric has just performed its expressive function, breaking through the social conventions of mere speech to convey strong feeling in song and movement; what

the

Queen

demands

instead

is precisely the

"speaking

and

asking" that is impeded by emotion. She instructs the Messenger in his role: πᾶν δ᾽ ἀναπτύξας πάθος λέξον xatactas,—stand and speak—xet στένεις κακοῖς ὅμως,

(294-295) The meaning of καταστάς seems to depend upon various prose usages that are especially applicable to heralds and messengers. Herodotos speaks of the κατάστασις of an embassy to Sparta, 11 Cf.

GARVIE,

126

n.

2;

O.

Taplin,

"Aeschylean

Silences

and

Silences

in Aeschylus," (HSCP, 1972) 8o, and n. 69. The "silence" in the Prom. (437) cannot be explained in the same way, though it too follows a lyric; it may be intended to cover awkward dramaturgy. Cf. M. Griffith, The Authenticity of the Prometheus Bound (Cambridge Classical Studies, 1977) 115-118.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

3I

presumably a formal presentation of their case to an assembly. The Messenger here is being told to make a formal speech.!? The other meaning of κχαθίστασθαι---ἰο become calm’’—also fits the urging that the Messenger repress his emotions. We are brought to notice the abandonment of the lyric mode, as the Messenger is invited to “stand and speak" in the trimeter manner, even though his material, which will be a list of the dead, is fit for lyric dirges. The remainder of the scene puts an even firmer quietus on emotion; the Queen gradually directs the narrative of the Messenger into questions that are of little immediate concern to the Persians themselves.!? The substitution of the actor as interlocutor seems to lead, not just to a retreat of the chorus, but to a repression of the themes and tone appropriate to lyric. The chorus retreats, not to enhance

the interaction of the actors, but to

further the narrative power of the Messenger's speeches to follow. When the chorus begins the first epirrhema, their song seems a satisfying response to a climactic moment. At the next entrance of a new actor, however, the same pattern appears, with the difference that the chorus' response this time is less compelling and has less relevance to the stage events. The Ghost is most curious about events above ground, as his short opening rhesis makes plain.4^ Unlike the Messenger, he speaks to the chorus directly in the first line, emphasizing the relation of intimacy that exists between himself and them.!5 Like the Messenger, the Ghost ends his speech with a one line tag that invites response: "What new, heavy evil has come to the Persians?’ 1% But the Elders reply with a brief, epirrhematic strophe, declining to obey this command: σέβομαι μὲν προσιδέσθαι, σέβομαι δ᾽ ἀντία λέξαι σέθεν ἀρχαίῳ περὶ τάρβει. (694-696) 12 Hdt. 1.152: the Ionians and for them; he, dressed in a purple ἑωυτοῖσι yejnGwv—but to no effect. The word is also used of a speech 3.156; and Thuc. 4.84, where the

Aioleans chose one Pythermos to speak garment, καταστὰς ἔλεγε πολλὰ τιμωρέειν Cf. also the embassy of the Samians, 3.46. made formally, before a public body, cf. point is that Brasidas, though a Spartan,

is actually able to make a formal speech. In Plutarch (Antony 57), Antony in his jocular fashion gets himself included in an embassy to Cleopatra, xai δὴ καταστὰς ἐπ᾽ αὐτῆς λόγον ὑπὲρ τῆς πόλεως διεξῆλθεν. 13 On the content of these questions, cf. 11.3, below. 14 681-693,

cf. 682,

685.

15 ᾧ πιστὰ πιστῶν ἥλικές θ᾽ ἥβης ἐμῆς (681). 16 τί ἔστι Πέρσαις νεοχμὸν ἐμβριθὲς κακόν; (693).

32

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN

THE

PERSIANS

Rather than heightening the emotion attendant on bad news, this response is pitched somewhat below the anguished cries of the lyric that summoned the Ghost (cf. 673 ff.), emphasizing instead the awe and reverence inspired by the old king." The Ghost renews his query, changing to tetrameter; he asks for “not a lengthy story but a brief one,” μὴ τι μακιστῆρα μῦθον, ἀλλὰ σύντομον λέγων εἰπὲ καὶ πέραινε πάντα... (698-699) In formal content this passage is parallel to many others in tragedy: it refers to the chorus’ avoidance of the long speech and their normal preference for stichomythic dialogue.!? The scene which follows does indeed

continue

in the dialogue

mode;

the Queen

delivers

a

six line speech and participates in a stichomythy in tetrameter, something the chorus could easily have done in her place. The Ghost’s second request does not alter the choral response, and the second half of the epirrhema is virtually identical with the first: δίεμαι μὲν χαρίσασθαι, δίεμαι δ᾽ ἀντία φάσθαι (700-701). Unlike the wildly emotional duet with the Messenger, this second epirrhema permits no communication between actor and chorus, furnishes no motive power to the scene, introduces no new material. The chorus simply refuses to speak. Dareios then remarks that, "Since old-time fear blocks your wits—oot φρενῶν ἀνθίσταται, he will change to the Queen, his former mate. In both scenes, the opening pattern has been the same: speech of the new actor, epirrhema, and substitution for the chorus by the other actor already on stage. In both cases, the switch is

associated with the kind of communication required, a change from the wails that typify mourning ritual—and the lyric emotionalism 17 Awe and reverence is a major theme of the second stasimon, cf. 643ff: On the simple, even hieratic quality of the epirrhema, PERETTI, 131-132’ and B. Münscher, 208, in ‘‘Der Bau der Lieder des Aischylos," Hermes 59’

1924. 18 Cf. MICHELINI, 533-534. Σύντυμος is a key word in these passages, cf. Eum. 415, 585. (Cf. the antithesis of μακρὸν... πῆμα and συντόμως in Ag. 629; though there, not especially significant.) There may be a hidden mean-

ing in περαίνω, especially in this context, of "recite" as well as "complete." The word is often used in later authors for the recitation of iambs, cf. Aeschy-

lus reciting his prologues in the Frogs (1170), and Demosthenes on Aeschines' habits of quotation (19.245). Cf. also Semos of Delos (Ath. 14, 622B), and Pollux (4.113); in both the latter, the word is associated with ῥῆσις. Cf. also Antiphanes Kii. 45 = Ath. 503E; and, after a bombastic passage in comedy, A. tt λέγεις; B. ῥῆσιν περαίνω Σοφοκλέους (Kil. 12 = Ath. 396B).

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

33

of the chorus—to a clearer and less passionate speaker. When the Ghost turns to the Queen, he instructs her to "cease these wails and groans” and to "speak something clear—oap&g τι AéEov.”” 1? Here, as in the first epirrhema, we hear of some presumed reactions

by the Queen—whether active (wails) or passive (silence)—that we as audience could not have noticed during a lyric passage in which she took no part. The Queen's deprecated “groans” are as formal and as far from dramatic realism as was her former “silence.” While some gestures of woe from the Queen may have accompanied the second epirrhema, she has actually said, or sung, nothing at all since the end of her speech at 622. Having our attention drawn a second time to reactions that, in a formal sense, cannot have

existed before we were told about

them reinforces a slight dissonance in the usually smooth blending of lyric and lineverse. This time, the Queen is told to cease mourning

behavior, appropriate to lyric, and speak (λέξον), just the advice she herself earlier gave the Messenger. (There, she commanded; here, she responds to the Ghost's commands. There, she sought

information, while here, in the first part of the scene at least, she provides it.) The references to the switch from mourning lyric to speech justify and underline the changeover from the vagueness of the chorus' lyric response to the clear exchange of information in

a lineverse

meter—in

this

case,

the

trochaic

tetrameter.

The

pattern of epirrhema followed by speaker change is designed to contrast—as the epirrhema itself does—the modes of lyric and lineverse; this contrast provides the entering actor with a reason for his choice of the other actor as partner in dialogue. But more can be made out in this pattern; as always in the use of a recusatio device, the rejected alternative continues to vibrate in the air of the play. We are left with the implication that the normal interlocutor is the chorus; the other actor speaks only as a second choice. The effect is stronger in the second scene, of course, where the chorus' initial role is very hard to justify dramatically, their only contribution being their refusal to speak. Further, this type of scene opening underlines what the ensuing scenes go on to confirm: the second actor is a substitute for the chorus. Never is the position of the second actor a more dubious one than here, where his status as interloper in the close partnership of entering 19 705-706

(Note

that the word

λέξον

is set off by

enjambment

at the

opening of a tetrameter. At 295, the word also stands at the head of its line.)

34

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN

THE

PERSIANS

actor and chorus is implicit in his substitution. This is the usual backlash of the "rejection," which restates the old or canonical form as a background to a departure.?° The Persians follows the format of a single-actor play quite exactly, and even the use of a second actor is surrounded by markers indicating the older form. The emphasis on messenger scenes and the narrative rhesis predetermines the part of the Queen, leaving her no further function except to introduce the third episode with her offerings.?! The arrangement with actors in parallel, familiar from the Suppliants and the Oresteia, may not yet have developed at the time of the Perstans; it could in any case hardly be applied to a play of this type. Danaos or Klytaimestra, silent on stage while the chorus takes over dialogue, remain impressive and significant figures; ?? but the Queen is neither a strong nor an essential character. If she stands silent, it must become apparent that, her own moment as news-bringer once past, she is without further function. A plot centering on the bringing of news imposes redundancy on the second actor—or on the chorus. The problem of supplanting the chorus,

which

remains

silent in the orchestra,

is handled in a

bold, frontal manner. By contrasting the different capabilities of lineverse and lyric, the epirrhematic introduction keeps both second actor and chorus in play, while emphasizing the special facility

of each. Comparing the solution of the Persians to the three-way scene with the treatment of such scenes in later plays, we can perhaps see the source of the development toward the protagonist chorus.?? 20 The “second actor'"' is distinguishable only in terms of dramatic history; within individual dramas there seems to be no special role or combination of roles for a subordinate. The Queen is clearly the ‘‘second actor'' in the

second episode, though she was the “first actor" in the first. Cf. GARVIE’s quibble that it would be more accurate to say that Aeschylus knows how to manage the second actor (in Suppl.) but "has forgotten what to do with

the first"

(128).

The

Else, “YIIOKPITH%”,

issue of course is the management WS

of two

figures.

72 (1959) 76, suggests that the relation between

the two was always that of principal and assistant; but this overlooks the importance of messenger scenes in actor-chorus drama (discussed in II.r, below) and the point made earlier (I.1) that no single protagonist could have dominated actor-chorus drama. 21 Cf. discussion in II.4, below.

22 TAPLIN, 204 (cf. ''Silences"—n. 11, above—89-90) emphasizes that Danaos must be forgotten in the background; but the father's right to be where he is, and his function as a male protector for young females, him necessary, even when he is shadowy. 23 Cf. GARVIE, 128.

makes

THE PERSIANS AND LITERARY HISTORY

35

Where the chorus serves as a point of balance for two or even three actors, the group begins to take a more active role, moving into the trimeter scene. It is at this period that the chorus becomes more intimately connected with the stage events than they ever were afterwards and—probably—than they ever had been before. The dominating personality of the actor in later tragedy is itself a gift of the second actor, since only in a two-actor tragedy can a figure like Eteokles remain continually on the stage, while his messengers bring in news that moves the play along. The second actor is thus a catalyst who helps to make both the chorus and its partner—the original actor—into more complex and enthralling dramatic figures. In the Persians the second actor is not needed in his broader function, and serves only as an auxiliary to the original actor-chorus pair. If the engagement of actor with actor is handled differently in the Persians, the actual dialogue, the structure of the lineverse

scenes, is idiosyncratic as well. Again formal traits quite marked in later Aeschylean style are missing. While the trimeter dialogue in other plays is almost completely under the domination of the stichomythy, the Persians does not use trimeter stichomythies at all. Three

exchanges

of trimeters

do

occur,

and

these

are re-

markable for their loose, functional structure. Each is an exchange of question and answer that connects and provides a transition between two long speeches.” Two

of the dialogues, in the Messen-

ger's scene, have five passages each, varying from two to eleven lines in length.?® The third, with seven passages, occurs in the last scene

with

the

Ghost.26

There

is

nothing

intrinsically

notable

about what is in fact a functional and a natural use of dialogue; but it is striking that, in the other Aeschylean plays, such exchanges —whether

between

actor

and

actor,

or

actor

and

chorus—are

almost unparalleled. In the other plays, where dialogue transitions in a series of long speeches are required, the stichomythy provides a regular structure and eliminates rambling exchanges like these in the Persians. The formality of stichomythic dialogue is of course partially depen24 At

similar

moments,

especially

in

the

Ovesteia,

speeches are common, Ag. 538ff., 1202ff. etc.

stichomythies

routinely

25 331-352: Q. 6—M. 3—M. 4—Q. 2.

11—Q.

1—Q.

26 787-799: Ch.

1—M.

3— D. 3—Ch. 1—D.

where

occur:

3. 433-446:

e.g.

series

of

long

Suppl.

455ff.,

Q. 2—M.

3—Q.

1—Ch. 1—D. 2—Ch. 2.

36

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN THE

PERSIANS

dent on its length. If, for instance, a stichomythy can be of any length, then the last dialogue mentioned above could be treated as three lines of stichomythy set off by two balanced exchanges at beginning and end: 3—3—1—1—1—2—2.”’ Stichomythies in Aeschylean plays, however, are almost never shorter than lines, or four full exchanges; and they average thirteen

eight lines,

six or seven exchanges.?® These long volleys of single lines often follow a long rhesis, usually with a single two to four line introductory passage intervening.?? In several instances, whole scenes in the plays are composed of block speeches and protracted stichomythies, with surprisingly little connective material, although in the earlier plays the trimeter epirrhemata add a third element.?? The Seven Against Thebes is a remarkable example of severe formality in Aeschylus: the actors exchange no dialogue at all, and the chorus restricts itself almost entirely to epirrhema and stichomythy.?! The tendency discussed above of the two actors to funnel dialogue through the choral interlocutor tends to support this formalization of dialogue, which continues very strong even in the Ovesteia. Only once, in the extraordinary last scene of the Agamemnon, does a long exchange— 27 In fact this sort of fugitive stich. often emerges from looser dialogue in Sophoclean plays: cf. O.T. 960-963, 973-976, 987-993 etc. before a long, formal stich., 1007-1046. 28 Tine counts are approximate, since stich.’s sometimes begin with the last line of a speech, and since lines are often suspected to have dropped out. The only short stich.’s are L.B. 766 and 774, better taken as a single stich., broken by a four line speech; and Eum. 225ff., four lines following a longer stich. and a 13 line speech of Apollo. (Cf. also tetrameter stich. Ag. 1649, 1615ff.) If these bits are discounted, the average length of an Aeschylean stichomythy is about 14 lines. The stichomythies not counted are in brackets: Pe. 230, 715; Seven 245, 711, 803, [1042]; Suppl. 207, 294, 335, 455, 506, 916; Ag. 267, 538, 620, 931, 1202, 1246, 1299, [1649, 1665]; L.B. 107, 167, 214, 489, 526, [766, 774], 907, 1052; Eum. 201, [225], 417, 588, 711, 892. (Prom. 377, 515, 615, 964 are all anomalous by these standards. Two begin

with irregular dialogues, two are shorter than usual, and one is broken by a two line interjection.) ?9 For long sequences

of

speeches,

introductory

passages,

and

stich.,

cf. Ag. 1178-1330, or L.B. 83-225. 30 In Seven 181ff., we have speech / epirrhema / stich. / speech. The long scene spaces rheseis with short epirrhemata, ending (653) with speech (E.) /

speech (Ch.) / epirrhema / stich. 31 They exchange two passages of three lines among themselves at 369ff., and speak six trimeters to Eteokles at 6771f. Eteokles has one short speech, at the end of the prologue section (69-77, other short speeches are all in epirrhemata) ; the messenger does not reply to it.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

37

unpatterned, passionate, and rather repetitive—occur between actor and chorus.?? Elsewhere in Aeschylus stichomythy is virtually the sole medium of dialogue.? None of the plays makes use of irregular trimeter exchanges as the Persians does, as an unstressed transition between long rheseis. It appeared earlier that what at first glance seemed a singular contradiction to the formalism of later plays, namely a long scene between two actors unbroken by choral comment, was in fact a sign of some primitivism in the use of the second actor, correlating with a formal and explicit substitution of actor for chorus. In the same way, the odd trimeter dialogues in the Persians, which might at first appear a sign of progress away from formalism, are in reality evidence for the survival of another sort of formalism that may antedate trimeter dialogue altogether. Stichomythies, which—along with the long speech or rhesis—are the primary building

blocks

of later

Aeschylean

trimeter

scenes,

are

absent

in the Persians from the very places where we should expect to

find them, in exchanges of question and answer and at transitions between rheseis.34 But two stichomythies do appear in the play, both in trochaic tetrameter.?* It seems likely that the correlation between an unaccustomed form of stichomythy, in tetrameter, with the singular absence of stichomythies in trimeter is not accidental. It would appear that the tetrameter stichomythy is the prior and dominant form, and that the trimeter stichomythy derives its form from tetrameter, 82 r6r2ff., Ch. 5—A. 8—Ch. 3—A. 5—Ch. 3—A. 7—Ch. 6. Other oddities of this scene include choral passages of 5 and 6 lines—two passages this long appear in no other scene—and the use of trochaic tetrameter. The irregular dialogue and absence of trimeter stich. recall the Pe.; but the tetrameters are of the type found in late Euripides and not in the Pe. (Cf. I.3.) 33 Even short bursts of irregular dialogue are rare. Ag. 1035ff. and L.B. 479, 497ff. are not dialogue at all. A short irregular dialogue that breaks up a long stich. in Suppl. (323-334) has Ch. 2—P. 3—Ch. 5—P. 2. It is marked by the suggestion that the chorus tell more about Aigyptos: xai

τοῦδ᾽ ἄνοιγε τοὔνομ᾽ ἀφθόνῳ λόγῳ. (322). This is the usual formal marker that indicates a departure from the norm, by excusing or motivating it specially. The need of the Danaids to explain—or at least to stress, for they do not explain it—their reason for suppliancy produces this exceptional moment, cf. n. 37 below. 34 On the stich. as transitional between rheseis, cf. W. Jens, Die Stichomythie in dev frühen griechischen Tvagódie, (Zetemata 10, 1955) 17 and 33; and B. Seidensticker, “Die Stichomythie,”’ 199, in JENS. 35 They are listed in n. 28 above.

38

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN THE

PERSIANS

whose function it usurps in the all-trimeter play. If the proper or traditional meter of the stichomythy is tetrameter, not trimeter, the implications for the original function of either meter are numerous.

First,

looser,

less formal

trimeter

dialogue,

like that

in the

Persians and that in the plays of Sophocles and the early Euripides, would be the norm in tragedy.** The formality of later Aeschylean trimeter dialogue would be a stylistic innovation, compensating in part for the disappearance of tetrameter, the original meter of the rigid and formal stichomythy. That the original home of the stichomythy was trochaic tetrameter isa suggestion that must radically alter our view of the trimeter and its functions as well. The trimeter is not at any period a congenial medium for the chorus. While the actor commands a rhesis of greatly extended length and elaborate structure, the chorus has no capability for speechmaking at all. Such important protagonist choruses as the Danaids and the Furies never utter more than six consecutive lines of trimeter in dialogue. Even the five or six line passages are most uncommon and are reserved for climactic moments: the Danaids speak one five line passage in dialogue with Pelasgos; the Furies address one five line speech to Apollo at the

climax

of their

debate;

the

chorus

of the

Seven

Against

Thebes cry out against fratricide in one six line speech, their only

non-stichomythic utterance in the entire play.?? This extraordinary inhibition is marked by explicit formal references to the appropriateness or desirability of brevity, such as the remark of Dareios suggesting a σύντομον λόγον. At the opening of a stichomythy the chorus may boast of their skill to respond with brevity, or demand that their interlocutor use the dialogue mode, ἔπος δ᾽ ἀμείβου πρὸς ἔπος ἐν μέρει τιθείς. 8. As in the comic poet’s reference to the formality of the “obligatory”’ parabasis, these moments in Aeschylean plays are apologies or 36 For looser trimeter dialogue, cf. Eur. Hipp.

482-524,

Soph. Azas

1318-

1332. Such dialogue is common in both dramatists at every period, except for late Eur., when patterning becomes much more formal.

3? The Danaids speak five lines—after receiving permission to use ἀφθόνῳ AOyw—at 328ff. (Cf. n. 33, above.) The Furies, Eum. 652ff. For their longer, non-dialogue trimeter speeches, cf. I.3, below, n. 40-41. Seven 677, an extremely

climactic

moment,

marks

a

virtual

reversal

previously passive chorus. Cf. GARVIE, 120. 38 Fum., 584-585: πολλαὶ μέν ἐσμεν, λέξομεν δὲ συντόμως.

ἔπος δ᾽ ἀμείβου κτλ...

of

roles

for

the

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

39

justifications for the clash between what the chorus is being called upon to do and the traditional limitations on their use of lineverse. The heavy use of the chorus as an auxiliary actor thrust that entity into dramatic functions that often seemed to demand longer speeches. References to choral brevity, for instance, are particularly numerous in the Ewmenides, where the Furies, as accusers in a

court of law, might naturally be expected to make speeches.?? That an inhibition against long speeches by the chorus was a basic part of tragic tradition is indicated both by the defensive references to brevity, as well as by the practice of Sophocles and Euripides, in whose work speeches longer than four lines are extremely rare.* The Persians chorus is, of all Aeschylean choruses, the most chary with trimeters: in the entire play it speaks only eleven trimeters, never more than three lines together. But in tetrameter it is less shy: the chorus makes an eleven line speech in an exchange of dialogue in the first scene.*4 Unlike the five or six line choral trimeter speeches mentioned above, this reply to the Queen does not represent a point of tension or conflict with the actor, when it might be necessary for the chorus to speak at greater length simply to give what they say proper emphasis. They make a speech twice as long as the exceptional utterances cited above, simply to advise the performing of sacrifices to which the Queen agrees without hesitation. The reticence of the chorus in the rest of the play does not permit us to observe them operating in tetrameter again, but even a single speech of such length is remarkable. It would appear that the chorus’ reluctance to use lineverse is much stronger when that verse is the trimeter,

and that, in an actor-chorus

drama

using

tetrameter, they would be a more versatile and dominant interlocutor. The implications of the anomalous dialogue forms in the Persians 39 The

previous

duty of the accuser at 198, and 2or.

note

is a case in point.

to speak

first and

be

Athena πράγματος

has just explained

the

διδάσκαλος. Cf. ἐν μέρει

40 Sophoclean plays have a total of 11, 4 or 5 line passages; and five are in the Oed. Col. Euripidean plays with no 4 or 5 line passages: J.T., Ba., I.A.; with one, El., Or., Tvo., Ion, Hec.; with two, Alk., Med., Hipp., Andv.

Hevacid. has three. Four Eur. plays have long choral speeches: Her. 252-274, Suppl. 263-270, Phoin. 280-287, Hel. 317-329. The speeches are isolated and exceptional: only Her. has one other (4 line) passage. Eur. may have felt that Aeschylean example was being followed, cf. Eum. 244-253, 298-306. These passages are discussed below, I.3. 41 215-225.

40

ARCHAIC

ELEMENTS

IN

THE

PERSIANS

are various and are closely connected to the use of the trochaic tetrameter. We have seen that actor and chorus are originally given different modes of performance, lyric and trimeter poetry. We can now imagine an original actor-chorus drama in which stichomythy and shorter speeches like those in the Persians could be exchanged by actor and chorus in tetrameter, while the long trimeter speech would be delivered by the actor alone. Since the making of long trimeter speeches had never been part of the chorus' function, it is hard to imagine what need there would have been for choral trimeters,

as long as the tetrameter

continued

in

use in every scene. Trimeter dialogue like that which appears in the Perstans must be a secondary development, providing a transition between two speeches in a long trimeter sequence and thus expanding the trimeter to fill a whole scene.** The chorus clearly never came to be entirely at ease in this trimeter scene, while one impulse toward the dropping of tetrameter must have been the presence of a second actor, an interlocutor quite at home in the trimeter. In the plays of Aeschylus' later period, assimilation of the second actor has created a new formal scheme to facilitate the interaction

of two (or more) actors and a chorus. Dialogue is channeled through the chorus,

who

the alternation

become

themselves

a focal point of drama,

of the trimeter rhesis and stichomythy

while

continue

to express an original division in function between the speechmaker and his interlocutors in the chorus. In the Persians, where the second actor is a substitute and rival of the chorus, and the

trimeter scene has not yet taken on its formal shape, we have a glimpse of change and development still in progress. The serial or episodic plot and the use of trochaic tetrameter, both partially preserved in the Persians, are associated in both cases with the complementary division of function that is a necessary part of actor-chorus drama. The style of this earlier form of tragedy flourishes in the Persians as nowhere else in Aeschylus. By studying the use of lineverse able to understand

meters in this play, therefore, we should be more about the actor and the chorus, and

about the balance between differing meters and poetic forms that is at the base of tragic drama. 42 Cf, Jens, n. 34, above.

3. TROCHAIC A.

TETRAMETER

Tetrameter in the Persians

The most striking archaism

of the Persians, its trochaic

tetra-

meter lineverse, has attracted little notice; but it 1s perhaps in the

use of this meter that the play makes its most remarkable contribution to the literary history of tragedy. The tetrameter portions do not emerge from the surrounding drama as embellishments or additions to the trimeter scene; they are an integral part of the play, containing some of its most significant dialogue. The way in which the meter is used strongly suggests that we have in this play the remains of an old division of the lineverse scene between two meters with separate and complementary functions. The intimate association of the tetrameter and trimeter verses is evident when the two are set together, since a trimeter in its most

common

form

fits, caesura

and

all, inside a tetrameter.

Or,

to put the relation another way, the trimeter with a strong (fifth element) caesura can be turned into a tetrameter by adding three syllables to the beginning of the verse: (79

x-v-x

|| -vy-x-vx

Many metrical phrases transfer readily from one meter to the other; and the poet who used either measure would find it easy to compose, as Solon and Archilochos did, in both. The tetrameter differs from the trimeter in that it has a falling rhythm, moving

from strong to weak beat; and its metrical form is more strongly marked.! Whereas a trimeter cannot be divided symmetrically without splitting the center metron—a division quite strictly avoided—,

the caesura in tetrameter falls between the second and

third metra and cuts the verse into two almost equal halves, both beginning with the same rhythm. The blurred beat and the slower, rising rhythm of the iambics may have been what led Aristotle to call them most suitable to λέξις and the most similar to speech τῷ λόγῳ ὁμοιότατον, and to speak of the tetrameter as more “danceable—öpynorıxwrepov” than the trimeter.? The name itself, tooyatoc, 1 Cf. D. Korzeniewski, Griechische Metrik (Darmstadt, 1968) 64-65. 2 On the trimeter: Aristotle 1449a.23, 1459a.12; and τῷ λόγῳ.... ὁμοιότατον,

Rhet. 14042a.32, cf. 1408b.36. On tetrameter, 1449a, and 1408b.36—xopdaxixo-

42

TROCHAIC

TETRAMETER

indicates an association with running, contrasting the verse with the more sedate "walking" pace of the “iambeion.”’ ? This contrast of pace and tempo can be found quite clearly in other trochaics in tragedy, and sometimes in the trochaics of Old Comedy. It would be natural to seek such a distinction in the trochaics of the Persians; but I do not think it can be found there.

The tetrameter appears in the Persians at moments that are thoughtful rather than vigorous. The Messenger, the only character to enter at a run (247), begins in the trimeter. The only entrance in tetrameter is the arrival of the Queen in the first scene, when she comes on in full regalia and riding in a chariot. There is no reason to think that she is in haste, since her concerns, though deep-seated, are not urgent; and the ceremony of her coming seems to preclude hurry. The distinction that separates tetrameter from trimeter in this play is apparently one of function more than of color. Tetrameter, which we have seen consists of short speeches and stichomythy in the Perszans, leads up to or frames long trimeter speeches, creating a layered effect. The chorus closes their opening parodos with anapaests (140), changing to trochaics (155) to greet the Queen. The association of trochaics with dialogue, or shared speech, is marked by an odd "stage direction" in the anapaests: (But here 1s the Queen; I reverence her.) xai προσφθόγγοις δὲ χρεὼν αὐτὴν πάντας μύθοισι προσαυδᾶν. The chorus “must—ypeav’ speak to the Queen; and that they must do so directly is doubly stressed by the repetition of προοσ-(προσφθόγγοις. . «μύθοισι προσαυδᾶν). These lines of the chorus τερον, i.e. suitable to comic dance—; and 1459b.37, both meters are xıynrıxd, but the tetrameter is ὀρχηστικόν, while the trimeter is πρακτικόν. For the latter term, which seems to mean the meter is suitable for portraying πρᾶξις, cf. Pol. 1341b.34, and 1342a.14-18. 3 On tetrameter as a running meter, cf. 2 Ach. 204 (Dindorf's ed., 8), and comments by Korzeniewski (note r, above) 64; cf. J. W. White, The Verse of Greek Comedy (London, 1912), 448-449.

4 Πρόσφθογγος may be a ἅπαξ Aey., since it is introduced by conjecture into the confused

text at 935.

in adjectival form—and

It seems

invented

thus to stress—the

here solely to reproduce

meaning

of the conventional

verb προσαυδᾶν, to which προσφθέγγομαι acts as a synonym, cf. προσφθέγμα Ag. 903, L.B. 876. The language is designed to make us conscious of the “obvious’’ fact of the address.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

43

mark a special quality in the change from anapaests to tetrameter, though we lack the parallels that would make the nature of the contrast more clear. There is certainly no psychologically determined need for the chorus to stress their speaking to the Queen; like her "silence" during the later epirrhematic song, the ceremonious and respectful address of the chorus to their sovereign is so natural and proper as to require no notice. It may be that we are being asked to note the absence of an opening trimeter speech of the actor—a notable feature of the Persians and the Seven—or the lines may simply draw attention to the use of tetrameter.? In any case the specific connection of the tetrameter with dialogue, discourse directed towards an interlocutor, is clear enough. The Queen responds with her intention to share a concern (φροντίς) with the chorus, follows with some rather subtle and vague moral philosophy on wealth and its danger, and requests advice (159-172). Upon receiving a courteous and encouraging reply, she launches into a forty line narrative in trimeter, telling a dream of the past night, and a disturbing omen that followed the dream.

After this speech, the chorus, resuming the tetrameter,

tender their advice—to perform more sacrifices (215-225). The Queen accepts this advice and prepares to carry it out, breaking off for a tetrameter stichomythy about Athens. This dialogue serves as a transition to the next scene, for the Messenger enters immediately afterward, with a trimeter speech. In this first scene, the Queen’s long trimeter speech is entirely framed by trochaics: Ch—4 tro, Q—r4 tro, Ch—3 tro ()—40 trimeters Ch—11 tro, Q—5 tro, Stich—15 tro, Ch—3 tro The effect of a piece in a frame is considerably enhanced by the separation of topics. The speakers in tetrameter share worries and concerns and exchange courtesies and advice. What appears in trimeter is all narrative. The contrast is heightened by the great extension of the rhesis, which packs into a single unit both the very detailed and circumstantial dream and the later events

at the altar.

The

Queen's

introductory

tetrameter

speech

is a

ὅ It looks as though the address to the Queen is stressed precisely because this address is in some way singular. The technique is the same as that discussed in I.r, and marks some deviation from the traditional, or the

expected, form.

44

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

strong contrast to the rhesis. While the latter is all circumstance,

the former is all generalization. The series of cloudy gnomic utterances in tetrameter is the more enigmatic in that the interpretive cart precedes the expository horse. While the dream and omen provide some confirmation of the dangers to wealth in overambition, there is no direct return to these topics; and the concerns raised by the first speech—wealth in population versus wealth in possessions—receive no resolution until much later in the play. The long trimeter speech seems designed only to report fact; and indeed the Messenger's

scene, which

has no tetrameter,

is wholly limited

to such reporting and never touches on the meanings of Xerxes' acts.

The last lineverse scene of the play, that with the ghost of Dareios, uses tetrameter in much the same pattern as the first. Dareios moves from his opening trimeter rhesis to dialogue, shifting to tetrameter and asking the chorus to respond, un τι μακιστῆρα μῦθον, ἀλλὰ σύντομον λέγων. — (698) Most of the formal emphasis in the above, is on the contrasting powers the shift to the secondary lineverse well. ‘Lengthy speech" would belong

passage, already analyzed of lyric and lineverse; but meter is lightly marked as in trimeter and would be

unsuitable for the chorus; but they may use the dialogue mode and

speak

briefly,

συντόμως,

as

befits

the

tetrameter

medium.

The familiar marker, a formal apology for choral brevity, appears here with a new significance.’ The pattern of the last scene is a recognizable variation on that of the first. Again, pairs of short speeches alternate with stichomythy; but here two pairs frame the stichomythy on either side. This long tetrameter passage (697-758) is of great thematic importance, since topics that made fugitive appearances in lyric

or in the Queen’s first tetrameter speech are here subjected to a clear and broad interpretation. The nature and causes of Xerxes’ error are laid before us with considerable subtlety and insight: it appears that, in attempting to imitate his father, Xerxes was led to destroy his father’s achievements (755-758). The tetrameter again leads up to a long rhesis and again there is a strong break at the shift from one meter to the other. While the tetrameter 6 Cf. further

discussion in II.2.

? Cf. I.2 above.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

45

dialogue was concerned with interpreting Xerxes’ act, the trimeter speech is a cold and rather remote historical summary of the whole Medo-Persian dynasty, designed to prove logically that Xerxes’ disaster is the worst any monarch has brought upon the people. The abrupt change is jolting: from a perspective on Xerxes as a single human, we are brought to see him as only one in a series of monarchs to whom a mighty empire was entrusted. The emotional

alienation of the rhesis form is keenly apparent. The ghost has a second speech to deliver as well; and transition for this is provided by a trimeter dialogue, which involves the chorus in this meter for the first and last time in the play. There is no

return

to

tetrameter,

and

the

scene

closes

with

Dareios’

ghostly disappearance, a choral couplet, and the Queen’s short exit speech.? The gap between the musing and contemplative mood of the tetrameter passages and the brisk clarity of the rhesis is

the natural consequence of the separation of dialogue from narrative, a separation that is implicit in the specification of the stichomythy to the tetrameter.

the

understanding

Fact is the natural material of the rhesis, while

and

interpretation

of fact, its adaptation

to

human uses, has its source in the exchanges of tetrameter dialogue.

When two lineverse meters are used in this complementary way, the best fit is achieved in a scene like the first, where trimeter is confined to a single long speech. If the scene also opened with a rhesis by the actor, two trimeter speeches could be included without changing the framing pattern of the trochaics. Such a scene would

be like the actor-chorus scenes in the Seven Against Thebes, except that in the presumed earlier version the epirrhema and stichomythy were given to the tetrameter.® The introduction of trimeter dialogue, and

thus

become scene in of long retarded

the involvement

of the

chorus

with

that

meter,

would

an obvious convenience only in a scene like the Messenger’s the Persians. A scene of this type, consisting of a series speeches by the narrator figure, would be considerably by the intervention of tetrameter dialogue. Unless the

3 The Ghost must leave after his valedictory remark to the chorus, cf. TAPLIN, 116 n. 2. The chorus’ couplet may accompany his exit, but it is a general summary of the pain they suffer rather than a farewell to the Ghost.

The Queen then speaks solely to the chorus. Thus the structure of the scene precludes dialogue. ? The sequences in the Seven have been proposed as the model of the earliest scene, e.g. PERETTI, 148. Cf. GARVIE, 135, n. 6, on the contrasting

and more sophisticated technique of the Suppl.

46

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

actor could deliver himself of all his message in a single speech, some use of trimeter would be a great convenience. The Persians does use some trimeter dialogue, and does not include tetrameter in every scene, a practice which may mark the play either as transitional

in

the

abandonment

of tetrameter,

or

as

a limited

return to an older style. B.

Tragic Tetrameter Outside the Persians

The complementary functions of the two lineverse meters in the Persians do not perpetuate themselves into later tragedy.!? Tetrameters appear briefly in two plays, the Agamemnon and Oidipous T'yrannos, each time at the exodos.!! Later in the century at some time near 415 Euripides began to write tetrameter passages into his plays, and thereafter the meter appears in his work with increasing frequency. By the time of the posthumous [phigenera in Aul, Euripides uses as great a proportion of tetrameters to trimeters—about one to four—as we find in the Persians.'^ But neither the exit trochaics in the earlier plays nor the revival trochaics of Euripides' last period have much formal resemblance to the dual lineverse scenes of the Persians. On the contrary, there is a strong tendency for these trochaics to indicate brisk motion, hasty entrances, urgent exits, and the like.? Why did the scheme we 19 Trochaics have often been associated by other writers with vague criteria such as “elevation.’ Cf. the attempts of M. Imhof (‘‘Tetrameterszenen in der Tragódie," Mws. Helv. 13—1956— 133) to associate the trochaics of the Persians with those of Lyssa in H.F., through a common quality of “feierliche Getragenheit"; he uses “Bewegtheit’’ elsewhere, 141. T. DrewBear (‘‘The Trochaic Tetrameter," A /.P 89—1968— 388) suggested that the trochaics in the first scene of the Persians are motivated by the Queen's chariot entrance, which ‘‘would be heightened by the excited trochaic meter." But the trochaics in the play are less, rather than more "'elevated" than the trimeters, while 'excitement'' at the Queen's entrance is considerably less than e.g. at the Messenger's. 11 Ag. 1344, 1346-1347, 1649-1673. O.T. 1515-1530. For the authenticity

of the ending speech cf. references in H. Musurillo, Sophocles’ 'Oedipus'," A JP 78 (1957) 46 n. 15.

“Sunken

Imagery in

1? The Pe. has 114 tetrameters, and 429 trimeters; the former are thus about 21% of the play's lineverse. The Ovestes has 114 also, but they amount to a smaller proportion of the lineverse (9%) in a long play. The 211 tetrameters of the 7.4. amount to about 18% of the lineverse and thus

approach the Pe. trochaics in extent. Cf. n. 14 below. 13 The following are all trochaic passages in later tragedy, exclusive of Ba. and I.A., where the meter is used for whole scenes. (Passages marked Y are entrances; those marked X are exits. Passages marked W refer to

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

47

have traced in the Persians fail to perpetuate itself in later plays? The answer must lie in the way the conventions of style work. While a formal feature, however striking and singular, remains traditional, no excuse is needed for it, and it is accorded no attention,

since its function is self-evident. The balance between tetrameter and

trimeter,

while

not

maintained

throughout

the

Persians,

is even enough for tetrameter to make a natural and unforced impression. But if, after a whole play entirely conducted in trimeter, lyric, and anapaests, tetrameter is suddenly and briefly introduced, some reason is needed to justify this break in the normal metrical order. The new meter must have a special quality appropriate in this particular place, and contrasting with the meter normally used for rhesis and dialogue, the trimeter.!* the speed of the person entering or leaving. Those marked

Z contain explicit

urging—e.g. otetyé vuv—to walk, or move.) O.T. 1515-1530 XZ Tvo. 444-461 XZW

H.F.

855-874 XZ

Ion 510-565; 1250-1260 YW; 1606-1622 XZ I.T. 1202-1233 X Hel. 1621-1641 Phoin. 587-638 XZ; 1308-1309 Y ; 1335-1339 Y Ov. 729-806 YW / XZ*; 1505 YW; 1549-1553 YW Phil. 1402-1408 XZ** O.C. 886-890 YW

*

Pylades begins the scene with a hurried entrance, and ends it by

**

escorting Orestes off (795). The language (εἰ δοκεῖ, στείχωμεν) is conventional, prevented by the arrival of Heracles.

but the exit is

For Ag., cf. n. 19 below. The last passages (1649ff.) would be labeled XZ. ! Cf. W. Krieg ("Der trochaische Tetrameter bei Euripides," Philol. N.F. 45—1936—45) on the different quality of the more numerous tetrameters in 1.4. Imhof (cf. n. 10, above), 138, suggests that 7.4. tetrameters resemble

those

of the

Pe.

But

this

does

not

seem

to be the

case;

since

the

meter is used for whole scenes, it makes quite a different impression in the Euripidean play. The scene in Ba. 604ff. has none of the usual markers of the earlier tetrameters,

but—

because

it associates

Dionysos

with the chorus

as a quasi-leader—it has a certain affinity to the trochaics of the Pe. and other Aeschylean plays. The god shares a private communication with the chorus that excludes Pentheus. His speech, however, is a narrative rhesis and resembles those in 1.44. (e.g. 334ff.). 15 An analogous situation is Menander's introduction of iambic tetrameters in the last scene of the Dyskolos. The meter, by that time doubtless very rare in comedy, is introduced by the appearance of a fluteplayer to accompany it. The flute would normally have been present for non-trimeter meters at

an

earlier

date;

only if overtly

now

it and

motivated,

and

the

iambic

tetrameter

associated with

are

special,

an exceptional

suitable

situation.

48

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

Once tetrameter no longer has a well-defined function, the strongly marked rhythm that distinguishes it from the trimeter becomes the sign of a special moment, appropriate to the tetrameter, hence the extraordinary emphasis on walking, stepping, and foot movement in these passages. In the exodos of the Agamemnon, Oidipous Tyrannos, and Euripides’ fon the meter substitutes for the exodos song, usually a lyric in Aeschylus, but almost always anapaestic in Sophocles and Euripides.!$ The tetrameter functioning as a rare variant on the trimeter is thus given a further justification by its overlap in function with the anapaests, a meter to which tetrameter is in part analogous. Again, when tetrameter is contrasted

with anapaest or lyric, the briskness of its pace is notable, just as what is striking in contrast to trimeter is the tetrameter’s rhythmic regularity. This emphasis on rhythm marks the meter by its most obvious and trivial feature and thereby limits it to a relatively narrow range of situations, where an entrance or exit is strikingly marked by speed or urgency, or where some walking movement is mimed by the actor.!? Another aspect of the later tetrameters has more relation to the meter's function in the Persians: the later tetrameter is used very frequently for stichomythy. But, since by this time the trimeter has become the conventional meter of stichomythy, the need for dialogue alone does not justify the adoption of the tetrameter

variant.

letrameter

stichomythies

in

later

tragedy

are therefore given a stronger quality, with the break between speakers coming every half-line (ἀντιλαβη).18 This exaggerated On the broad, ''Aristophanic" quality of this scene, cf. PERUSINO, 136. The use of the flute may have become rarer in the fourth century, cf. Xenophon Symp. 6.3, where such a recitation is characteristic of one well-known performer. On the whole question of musical accompaniment, cf. below,

n. 39. 16 Aeschylus’ preference for other lyric does not necessarily reflect older norms; his innovative use of lyric commonly leads to various departures from regularity that appear to be his alone. Euripides’ formulaic anapaestic

closes suggest that the anapaests were traditional at the exodos; as usual, the extreme formalism marks the decay of a tradition.

17 In Hel. 1621ff. and [on 510, where there is no emphasis on entrance or exit, an actor is struggling with another, who attempts to hold him back or embrace him, cf. the exit in the long trochaic scene Or. 729ff. where

Orestes is supported by Pylades and of course the exit in Phil. 1402. The mimesis of an attempt to walk or flee, impeded or assisted by another, seems

to

call

forth

tetrameter.

The

same,

of

course,

occurs

in

the

comic

parodoi, discussed below.

18 On

ἀντιλαβή

cf. Korzeniewski

(n. 1, above),

66. Such

stichomythies

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

49

dialogue form, nicely suited to the longer tetrameter line with its diaeresis in the middle, preserves in a heightened and specialized form the old association of the meter with dialogue interchanges. The tetrameters in the Agamemnon are already of the later, specialized type, and show few traces of the arrangements found in the Perstans.1? The oddly shaped iambic dialogue in the Aigisthos scene has in common with the loose dialogues of the Persians the proximate influence of tetrameter. The juxtaposition of trimeter with tetrameter stichomythy may still have seemed redundant. Certainly the repetitious series of short trimeter speeches between Aigisthos and the chorus would transfer with no loss, and some possible improvement, into stichomythic form. The problem of overlap in the two kinds of stichomythy is solved in the later plays by the special stichomythy of the tetrameter, the ἀντιλαβή. Elsewhere in the Agamemnon it is possible to find a functional contrast between trochaic and trimeter that does seem to be based on the kind of complementarity we find in the Persians. As Agamemnon is struck by Klytaimestra inside the palace, he cries out, “Alas,

I am

struck a mortal blow within!"

The chorus have been

chanting anapaests, after the exit of Kassandra; they now change to trochaics, and the following series of lines appears: Ay. ὦμοι πέπληγμαι καιρίαν πληγὴν ἔσω. Χο. σῖγα: τίς πληγὴν ἀυτεῖ καιρίως οὐτασμένος; Ay. ὦμοι μάλ᾽ αὖθις δευτέραν πεπληγμένος. Χο. τοὔργον εἰργάσθαι δοκεῖ μοι βασιλέως οἰμώγμασιν ἀλλὰ κοινωσώμεθ᾽ Av πως ἀσφαλὴ βουλεύματ᾽ 7.

(1342-1346) As Agamemnon cries out a second time—in trimeter—his words are bracketed by three tetrameters addressed by the chorus members to each other. The suggestion of "sharing plans" leads to the remarkable intrachoral dialogue exchange of trimeter couplets. appear

in O.T.;

Ion

In the Euripidean H.F.

510,

1250,

1606;

I.T.;

tetrameters produced

Hel.;

Phoin.

between

use the meter for the exits of Kassandra

587;

Or.

Jon and Ov.

and Lyssa,

729;

Phil.

(Tvo. and

very specialized

and singular moments, while the tetrameters in Ba. and especially 7.4. have clearly evolved to a new

meters,

stage,

cf. n. 14 above.)

and in Sophoclean

tetra-

ἀντιλαβὴ is part of all tetrameter passages longer than five lines.

18 Cf. n. 13 above. The chorus are urged to leave—oreiyer’ emerges from the faulty text of 1657—, and cf. the evident miming of hostile action that accompanies the slip into trochaics at 1649. As in O.T., trochaics substitute

for the closing lyric.

50

TROCHAIC

The

metrical

switch

to

TETRAMETER

tetrameter,

momentary

as

it is,

hardly

seems to be motivated by a change in emotional color, since the trimeters that the chorus uses later are equally agitated.?? These five lines, in which we find an interleaving of trimeter and tetrameter make a clear functional distinction between the kinds of speech of king and chorus: the chorus react to the king's cries, speaking to each other, while the king cries out to anyone who may hear and come to help. No direct communication takes place across the metrical borders. The differentiation of meters underlines the separation between chorus and actor, as well as preparing by the shift from lyric for the exchange of choral trimeters to follow. This use of three meters in aseries seems toreflect the functional divisions of the Persians, where the trimeter is the meter of general address,

while

tetrameter

is used

for

more

direct

and

intimate

dialogue interchanges. In this special situation, the separation of metrical function serves the purpose of setting off the internal dialogue of the chorus from the off-stage cries of the actor. An interesting parallel to the Agamemnon’s blend of trochaics and trimeters can be found in the fragments of Aeschylus’ Isthmiastai. Five lines of tetrameter end a passage where lyric apparently alternates with trimeter. The speaker in tetrameter— either a member of the chorus or the Silenos who leads them— urges the chorus to affix their new masks to the temple. As they are engaged in this task, Dionysos suddenly enters in trimeters to denounce them: ἔμελλον εὑρήσειν ἄρ᾽ ὑμᾶς, ayado[ı y»

Fe ὦ

(M 17.23)

Like the moment in Agamemnon 1344, this entrance marks a break between

chorus

and

actor.

In

tetrameter,

the

chorus

were

con-

ducting an internal dialogue, unaware of the actor who evidently enters unexpectedly, taking them off guard. Later, in a short lyric, the chorus seems to encourage someone, perhaps the Silenos, to speak out (efx θάρσων λέξ [ov). They themselves will remain “in the shrine," a determination that they repeat later, after another speech of Dionysos (79-80).4 The chorus refuses to get 20 E.

Frankel

explanation

accepts

for the

the

meter

differing

change,

degree

of excitement as a sufficient

Agamemnon

III

(Oxford,

1952)

634.

But the speaker is after all only recommending consultation, something which in Pe. 140ff. is done in anapaests, cf. Suppl. 6251f. 21 The arrangement of the fragments is uncertain; but the good fit of 72-73, and the echoing of 49-50 by 79-80 are encouraging signs. Cf. the

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

5I

down to the same level as the actor, verbally as well as physically. The scene appears to make comic capital out of the contrast between tetrameter, lyric, and trimeter speech, using the formal distinctions among chorus, choral representative, and actor to mark the course of the disagreement. Like the Agamemnon passage, the scene is a special case of the metrical complementarity that is less strongly marked and much more deeply rooted in the Persians. C.

Other Dramatic While

their

the

scarcity

Tetrameters

later

tragic

and

their

tetrameters

necessarily

specialization,

fail,

to parallel

because

those

of

of the

Persians, it is valuable to observe the role of tetrameter in another art form, the Old Comedy, where it continued for some time to

be an important element. Tragedy is marked by an even and balanced arrangement of trimeter and lyric meters, and the contrasting imbalance in the comic metrical pattern no doubt largely accounts for the greater instability of the genre.2 In comedy, there is a notable concentration of non-trimeter meters after the parodos and before the parabasis, while the whole part preceding the entrance of the chorus, often consisting of several scenes, is always in trimeter.?? After the entrance of the chorus, however, a series

of "epirrhematic" scenes, in which lineverse and lyric are mingled, feature trochaic tetrameter, in alternation with anapaestic and iambic tetrameters, with occasional occurrences of yet more exotic lineverse.^ The three major lineverses of the epirrhematic comic scenes have a good deal of structural similarity: all are tetrameters, all catalectic, and all tend to divide symmetrically by metron diaeresis. remarks of H. Lloyd-Jones in the Appendix to the Loeb edition (orig. edited by H. Weir Smyth; London and Cambridge, Mass; 1957) vol. 2.542. K. Reinhardt, “Vorschläge zum neuen Aischylos’’ I, Hermes 85 (1957), saw tetrameters in the speech following Dionysos’ first tirade. The speaker seems to complain of bad treatment, and the lines might have been spoken by the chorus—or the Silenos—from the safety of the shrine. On coming down, the choral spokesman would adopt the measure of the actor for his next

speech (53-62, much mutilated), as Dionysos’ indignant comments indicate, σπείρεις δὲ μῦθον... καὶ ῥηματίζεις. 22 On the metrical patterns of the two art forms, cf. ZIELINSKI, Glied., 194. On the epirrhematic scenes, cf. HANDEL, cited in note 27 below; and PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, I94ff. 23 Cf. ZIELINSKI, Glied., 191-192, and PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, 212. ^ Cf. the iambic dimeter with ithyphallic (Wasps 248ff.) and the eupoli-

deans (Clouds 518ff.). All three tetrameters overlap in function only at the parodos, cf. PERUSINO,

16, 43.

52

TROCHAIC

TETRAMETER

The trimeter scenes of comedy are relatively loosely structured, and the tendency of dialogue to resolve itself into stichomythy or rhesis is almost wholly absent.” The informal trimeter scene contrasts with elaborate formality in the epirrhematic parts of the play, for instance in the stereotyped verbal formulae of the parabasis, mentioned above.? It is in this more archaic portion of the play that the chorus is most active. Their vigor during the epirrhematic scenes, so striking in comparison to the timidity of the tragic chorus, 1s balanced by the long prologue in which the chorus do not appear, and by their passivity in the late scenes of the play.? The use of tetrameter lineverse in the epirrhematic scenes coincides with choral activity; and, when the epirrhematic scene is dropped in the very late comedies of Aristophanes, the chorus virtually disappears too. It is as though two different dramatic traditions coexisted, or rather struggled for dominance, in

comedy:

one

formal, chorus-oriented,

and

musical;

and

one,

informal and prosaic, dominated by the actors. Not only is the comic chorus more at ease in the three tetrameter measures, but it also manages to avoid the trimeter almost altogether in the earlier plays, when the epirrhematic form is most nearly intact. In the Clouds, Wasps, and Knights the chorus speaks

about five trimeter lines per play, and there may be no choral trimeters at all in the Peace.?? The comic chorus, given the opportunity for expression in other metrical forms, avoids the trimeter. The same pattern is clearly evident in tragedy, where the chorus limits its involvement to stichomythy and short speeches, seldom 25 The rheseis which do appear are often marked, like Dikaiopolis' trimeter agon-speech, as paratragedic (Ach. 416), cf. HANDEL, 48. 26 Τα; cf. the insistent recurrence of phrases such as ἀλλ᾽ ἴθι χαίρων or ἀξιός ἐστιν. 27 Cf. on the chorus and the epirrhematic scene, HANDEL, 65: “Epirrhematische Szenen sind immer für das Gesprách zwischen Chor und Schauspielern da." “Wenn der komische Dichter vor der Aufgabe steht, seinen Chor als Gesamtheit mit den Schauspielern agieren zu lassen," he uses the

epirrhematic form. (44) Cf. the remarks of T. Gelzer, Epirrhematische Agon (Zetemata 23, 1960) ıgoff. On the form of the later scenes, cf. Gelzer, 212; and PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, 208-209. 28 Choral trimeters: Clouds 794-796, 1454-1455; Wasps 1297-1298; Knights 611-614, 970-971; Ach. 1069-1070, and an internal choral dialogue in 557-565. Knights 482-487, given to the chorus by the mss., should surely be Demosthenes, as the other trimeters following are his. For the attribution of 924ff. in Peace, cf. M. Platnauer’s edition (Oxford, 1964) 145. The few choral trimeters in the early plays are often marked as paratragedic, cf. Ach. 1069-1070, Knights 611-614, Wasps 1297-1208.

THE PERSIANS AND LITERARY HISTORY

53

saying anything longer than six lines. A part of the complementary function of the tetrameter is to make it likely that, asin the Persians,

the chorus will hardly use trimeter at all. The comic tetrameter, unlike the tragic one, is complementary, not so much to the trimeter, as to the other catalectic tetrameters

with which it alternates in various more-or-less traditional functions. In one case, the entrance march of the parodos,

can be found the

association with speed and vigor typical of the later tragic tetrameters; in the parodos, as in the specialized trochaic exits and entrances of later tragedy, the trochaic tetrameter with its fast,

headlong rhythm makes a contrast to the slower, rising rhythms of the anapaestic and the limping iambic, with its dragged cadence. Tetrameter

parodoi

tend

to

be

running

scenes,

sometimes

ac-

companied by feverish dance.?? The chorus is usually chasing someone; and their speed contrasts with the dignity of the anapaestic entrances or the laboring rhythm of the iambics. Since the meters in the parodos overlap in function and since all accompany marching or walking, the distinction between alternative meters is made, as in the later tragic trochaics, on the grounds of rhythmic characteristics. The early forms of tragic and comic drama contrast in patterning; but they produce a rather similar theatrical effect, in that, in each case, the formal scheme required to integrate different metrical types leads to an essentially static symmetry and balance typical of archaic style.?° In tragedy the trimeter was probably associated with the earliest appearance of the actor, and with an opposition, early established,

between

the rhesis or long speech and the lyric

stasimon. In comedy the trimeter appears to have been extraneous to the early design of the genre. The accretion of a trimeter play on

the

earlier

produced 29

On

epirrhematic,

an incongruous

the use of the trochaic

and

blend

chorus-centered,

of looseness

for rapid entrances,

performance ?!

and formality. cf. White,

On the contrast of the iambic tetram. with anapaestic and PERUSINO, 14-15; she refers to its "tono dimesso, giocoso,

The

(n. 3, above).

trochaic, cf. superficiale’’

in later poetry. For Aristophanes she argues for an ideological criterion in the choice of meters (44), for criticism of this view, cf. Michelini, AJP 92 (1971) 122-124. For vigorous dance, cf. Peace 319-334; and the scholiast on Clouds 1352 (Dindorf, 131). 30 ZIELINSKI, Glied., 31, remarked on the static quality of the epirrhematic scene; but he thought of the tragic scene as loosely structured and dynamic

by contrast. 31 Cf. ZIELINSKI, Glied., IQI, 216.

54

TROCHAIC

TETRAMETER

tragic trimeter scene by contrast was formal from its introduction, while the early juxtaposition of trimeter and lyric ruled out the better-integrated epirrhematic structure and isolated the lyric from the first. An interesting parallel to the contrast between trimeter and tetrameter comes out of Roman theater, where a metrical arrangement not entirely unlike that of Old Comedy seems to have been inherited, not through Attic New Comedy, but out of an independent

Sicilian and Italic tradition.? Like Old Comedy, Plautine comedy uses a variety of lineverse meters as well as lyric meters, although there is no chorus. Dialogues in the senarius, the Italian equivalent

of the trimeter, were called diverbra to distinguish them from other lineverse meters and from lyric, all of which were musically accompanied.? Jambic as well as trochaic lineverse appears in septenarii (tetrameter catalectic) and even octonarii (full length tetrameter verse). The flute-playing that accompanies these meters is treated overtly at a place where the normal pattern will not

be

maintained,

as

in

the

Stichus,

where

the

flute-player

is

made to take a drink. While he does so, he cannot play; and the actors lapse into senarii.* When the playing resumes, they move into iambic septenarii, and then to vigorous dancing, accompanied by lyric measures. The diverbia very seldom abut lyric measures directly. In a fashion somewhat reminiscent of the sequence of meters at the opening of the Persians, dialogue in one or more of the musically accompanied lineverse meters almost always intervenes between 3?

On

the

lyric

meters

of Plautus,

cf. the

discussion

of G. E.

Duckworth

in The Nature of Roman Comedy: A Study in Popular Entertainment (Princeton, 1952) 375-380. His summary of research on the lyric cantica points to the Italic tradition—or rather the Italic Greek tradition derived from the Sicilian comic works—as a source for these meters. 33 On diverbia, cf. Duckworth (cf. prev. note) 362. The distinction is marked in some Plautine manuscripts. "The iambic senarius was the verse

of ordinary speech (diverbium) and the term canticum was used broadly to include all other meters." Cf. the remarks of H.D. Jocelyn, in The Tragedies of Ennius (Cambridge, 1969) 29 n. I. 84 Stichus 762ff. Cf. PERUSINO, 140. She points out, however, that earlier the fluteplayer has his pipes torn out of his mouth (718), while the meter (septenarii) does not change. But the explanation of this is in the text;

the actors themselves are keeping time, presumably by foot-tapping or hand-clapping: ''Ubi illic biberit, vel servato meum modum, vel tu dato. / Nolo ego nos prorsum hoc ebibere.'' Stichus does not want to drink “‘straight’’ —or in prose, without the proper rhythmic accompaniment that the septenarius demands.

THE PERSIANS AND LITERARY HISTORY

55

lyric and senarii.?° Exceptions to this rule are marked by the usual formal or overt reference to conventions that normally go unmarked. In one scene the reading of a letter breaks off dialogue in lyric. The change from musical to non-musical meters is marked by commands to "recite—vectia," and suggestions that—since the recitations will be unbroken—the other character should keep silent (hau verbum faciam. ..fac sWentium).55 When the letterreading on one occasion is broken off, lyric resumes, only to be interrupted again for the rest of the recitation. Clearly the senarius is the meter of prose; and letters as a prose genre are dramatically represented in their proper form.?? While the tradition of Roman comedy seems not to be directly related to that of Attic drama, this metrical structure does provide a strong parallel to Old Comedy's use of several alternate lineverses, while the trimeter remains in a

separate functional slot. The Plautine dzverbia also suggest that the basis for the separation of the trimeter from the other lineverses is its lack of musical accompaniment. The existence of the same distinction between the Greek trimeter and tetrameter is confirmed by the tetrameter's association with dance, and the trimeter's with speech. Dance does not occur without music. The division of meters in the comic tetrameter scenes and the easy transitions between the tetrameters and their lyrical counterparts, e.g. in the puigos form,?® indicates the same thing:

there was a thinner line between these meters and the freer rhythms of lyric, because both were musically accompanied. Whether dance always accompanied tetrameters is uncertain, and at least for the Persians seems rather unlikely. While some comic entrance tetrameters were plainly accompanied with dance and others, 35 Cf. the metrical charts in each volume of W. M. Lindsay's Oxford edition (1904). Senarii are sometimes followed by lyric, at a scene break or the entry of a new character. Exceptional is Cas. 847-854, the only place where two characters transfer from lyric to senarius, and Most. 782ff., where Tranio transfers his conversation from one senex to another. Stichus 52-57 is an interpolation.

38 Persa 496ff.: " Recita; hau verbum faciam (501)’’; "fac silentium (519)’’; "postquam recitasti (528)." Cf. Pseud. 997, where a character prepares to read a letter ("si taceas modo"), senarii as the reading commences.

the

meter

changing

from

septenarii

to

37 Cf. the insertion of actual prose in Aristoph. Thes. 295ff., when a speech is being made by a ''herald." 38 The Pnigos is simply the breakdown of the Wilamowitz called “solche einfachsten Strophen” Berlin, 1921—446), cf. HANDEL, 82.

stichic meter into what (Griechische Verskunst—

56

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

where the tetrameters attended running or pursuit movements, lent themselves well to physical mimesis, there is no sign of vigorous movement

in

the

non-entrance

tetrameters,

for

instance,

those

in the second part of the parabasis. While the later tragic tetrameters again very often suggest a vigorous, rhythmic mimesis of walking, running, or striding—that is, a kind of dance—those in the Persians do not. That they were accompanied by music, however, seems in the light of the whole history of trochaic tetrameter to be very likely.?? The additional distinction of musical accompaniment or the lack of it adds of course a further element to complete the differentiation of the two meters, otherwise so closely related in literary history. In the absence of musical accompaniment may be found the reason also for the chorus’ avoidance of the trimeter. An exceptional use of choral trimeters in the Oresteia throws an interesting sidelight: though very chary with trimeter speeches in their altercations with Apollo, the Furies twice introduce choral odes with exceptionally long speeches of eight or ten lines.4° The chorus of the Agamemnon also speak a long series of trimeters, apparently in dialogue with each other, at the death of the king." These rather lavish uses of trimeter seem related to the fact that the verses in question are not part of a dialogue with any actor, and that they appear in close proximity to a lyric. It islikely that these exceptional trimeters, 39 Recitation to the pipe (aulos), called παρακαταλογή was said to have been 'invented" by Archilochos (Ps. Plutarch De mus. 28.1141A)—.e. to have been a feature of early 2ambos recitations. W. Christ in “Die Parakataloge im griechischen und rómischen Drama," (Abhandl. d. Bayer. Akad. 13.3, 1875, 155-222) saw such recitative delivery as being a transition stage between melic and unaccompanied recitation, perhaps prevailing early in the fifth century and then falling into disuse. My arguments suggest that the manner of recitation is determined by genre type as well as by historical development. Cf. the view of Jocelyn, cited in n. 33, above. For a

general view, cf. A. Pickard-Cambridge,

The Dramatic Festivals of Athens

(2nd ed. rev.; J. Gould & D. M. Lewis, 1968) 156-160; and F. Perusino, “Il problema della paracataloghe nei tetrametri giambici catalettici della commedia greca," QUCC 1 (1966) 9-14. Perusino places more emphasis on dance than would be necessary in a tragic context. 40 Eum. 244ff. and 299ff.

41 r348ff. These follow an anapaestic song and the break into trochaic discussed above. Cf. Seven 848-860, an internal choral dialogue in trimeters, whose admixture of dochmiacs betrays their musical delivery. The six line speech at Ag. 258ff., resuming the anapaestic query that preceded the parodos, may also belong to this class; and of course 489-502 may be a further example, if the lines do not belong to Klytaimestra.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

57

which the chorus recited alone and not as part of a trimeter scene, were performed differently, probably with a musical accompaniment. The only lineverse speech of comparable length given to an Aeschylean chorus is the eleven line tetrameter speech in the Persians (215 ff.). The chorus avoided trimeter because it was the meter of formal speech, unaccompanied by music, the metrical equivalent of prose, and the proper vehicle of the actor. The inhibition against long speeches did not apply to the tetrameter, or to the trimeter on the exceptional occasions when

it received a

musical accompaniment. D. Function of the Tetrameter The traditional juxtaposition of trimeter and lyric is, by the addition of the tetrameter, amplified and varied. There is another meter,

of course, that is well-known

for its intermediate

status; 42

between the differing paces of the chariot-way and the footpath, falls the stately and formal gait of the anapaests. The anapaestic measures, grouped in a loose series of dimeters (periods) marked off by catalexis, are like a simpler version of the lyric stanza; but they are identified as closer to lineverse by the absence of responding strophes, and particularly of the alpha impurum, the badge of choral lyric’s special language. The anapaests that begin three Aeschylean plays as an alternative to the prologue rhesis may be a variant introduced by Aeschylus, as W. Nestle suggested; but the function of the meter as a transition to—and especially from— lyric seems to be traditional. Anapaests quite frequently accompany the entrances of actors in Sophocles and Euripides, and a few measures at the exodos seem obligatory in the later dramatists. As a transitional meter, anapaests often mark—as at Persians 42

For

the

middle-ground

status

of anapaests,

cf.

W.

Christ,

Meirik

der

Griechen und Römer (2nd ed.; Leipzig, 1879) 274; and Wilamowitz, Gr. Verskunst (cf. n. 38, above) 447-448, on the anapaestic period as a simpler form of the lyric strophe. 43 NESTLE, Str., 25ff. 8 out of 23 Aeschylean stasima and parodoi open

with anapaests (Pe. parodos and two stasima; Suppl. parodos and one stas. ; Ag. parodos and one stas.; Ew». one stas.); but only the Aias and Alc. parodoi follow this model. The parodoi are discussed in H. W. Schmidt, "Die Struktur des Eingangs," in JENS, 11. Anapaests are more common at the end of odes in Euripides (infrequent in Soph., except for 6 times in

the Ant.): e.g. Andr. 494ff.; Suppl. 98off., 1114; H.F. 441; Tro. 230, 567, 1118 etc. Often there is a verbal formula, such as x«i μὴν ὅδε or ἀλλ...

ὅδε

δὴ; the parallels in Aesch. are Pe. 140ff. (esp. 150, ἀλλ᾽ ἥδε θεῶν ἴσον ὀφθαλμοῖς φάος) and Ag. 783ff. Cf. TAPLIN, 73.

58

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

140—a return to the circumstances of the performance, after the wide-ranging excursions of the lyric. Anapaests are simple and monotonous in rhythm, and their language often falls below the concentration and depth of lyric, even to a certain "'prosaic" flatness.*4 The middle position of the anapaests sometimes produces ambiguities of reference, since it is hard to tell whether the chorus are expressing themselves directly in the lyric mode, or attempting to communicate with the actor. In the entering anapaests of the Agamemnon, for instance, the chorus asks Klytaimestra for news. Though the queen may already be present in the background, she does not answer—and the chorus can hardly be seeking to initiate dialogue before they have sung their parodos.* At the end of the ode, they again address her, this time in trimeters, asking the same question; and she replies. Danaos in the Suppliants at one point (994) repeats in a warning to his daughters what they themselves had said in an anapaestic interlude twenty lines before. Where anapaests work as lyric, the things the chorus says need not be noticed by the actors, since the lyric is a parallel or amplification to the trimeter scene, enhancing it but only occasionally serving it directly.46 Where anapaests do become a part of the trimeter scene, overt notice 1s appropriate, as at Agamemnon 830, where the returning king says—after a long opening prayer—that he "has heard and remembers" the warnings addressed to him by the chorus in the anapaests accompanying his entrance. If the anapaest serves as a vehicle for the chorus' descent from lyric to the trimeter scene, the tetrameter in the Persians adds a second meter that also can bridge the gap between the choral performance and that of the actor. Unlike the anapaests, tetrameter is equally suitable to both performers and provides an area in which they can meet on an equal basis. It corresponds to the anapaest in being a kind of way station. The former is a choral 44 Cf. J. Seewald, Untersuchungen zum Stil und Komposition dev aischyleischen Tvagódie (Greifswalder Beitrage 14, 1936) 10-13, on the flat, prosaic use of pronouns in anapaests; he cites Eum. 310ff. and Ag. 97ff. 45 Ag. 84, cf. the remark of J. Rode, "Das Chorlied," in JENs, 101: "Es ist gleichgültig, ob die angeredete Person auf der Bühne ist oder nicht, antworten wird sie auf keinen Fall." Rode referred to addresses made within lyric; those in anapaests are more ambiguous. 46 The extreme emotional lability of lyric and its avoidance of cogent,

logical discourse makes it a poor vehicle for statements significant of decisions or purposes, cf. the remarks of LESKY,

7.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

59

meter that is less elevated and more stage-centered, while the latter moves the lineverse scene into closer proximity to lyric and to the chorus. The juxtaposition of trimeter and tetrameter verse heightens qualities that are clearly discernible in the rhesis even in alltrimeter scenes. The “‘coldness” that Peretti found in many Aeschylean rheseis derives directly from the combined attributes of complex (antithetical and ring-form) structure and considerable length.*’ Long speeches are a major component of all Aeschylean plays: the three oldest and the Oresteia have a total of fifty-seven speeches longer than twenty lines.4® Such great length tends to make the speeches self-contained and self-referent, and thus alien to the normal patterns of human discourse.4® We speak, whenever we speak informally, almost always to somebody whose response we expect and to whom we are responding. In later Aeschylus the emphasis on long, unbroken speeches and stichomythies reduces discourse to very exaggerated examples of dialogue and nondialogue speech, neither much like anything in real life. The stichomythy possesses precisely the extreme of those qualities— reciprocity, balance, responsiveness—denied the rhesis, and possesses them sometimes to the exclusion of other qualities, such as coherency, subtlety, cogency, intensity, flexibility, and psychological verisimilitude.5® 47 228-230.

But

P. thought

that paraenesis was

the basic function

of

rhesis (247-266), a function I would be more inclined to give to the tetrameter speech. Compare the remarks of Seewald (cf. n. 44, above) on Seven 137ff.:

"Diese Wórte

sind knapp,

klar und

treffend....Jegliches

Bild fehlt, auf

gefühlsmássige Obertone wird Verzicht geleistet." Aesch. “zieht den klaren Ausdruck dem schönen vor.” (9). 48 Totals for each play, and opening line number for each speech: Pe. 8— 176, 302, 353, 447, 480, 598, 759, 800; Seven 12 (or 13)—I, 39, 181, 264,

375, 397, 501, 526, 568, 597, 631, 653, (1005); Suppl. 6—176, 249, 468, 605, 710, 980; Ag. 14—1, 281, 320, 503, 551, 587, 636, 810, 855, 1256, 1372, 1577; L.B. 9—1, 84, 124, 183, 269, 554, 734, 973,

1178, 1021;

1215, Eum.

9— 1, 64, 94, 276, 443, 470, 681, 754, 848. 49

On the natural coherence of the rhesis, cf. MICHELINI,

argued that the very word for separate recitation.

ῥῆῇσις implies

52gff., where it is

a self-contained

passage

suitable

50 The most obvious difficulty in the form of the stich. is the likelihood that the question will be of less importance

than the answer.

At times the

question may even be unnecessary, since it is clear what piece of information ought to come next, e.g. Suppl. 318ff. Strong emotion or mere emphasis is difficult to convey

because

of the extremely

balanced

form,

cf. the break

at Suppl. 322ff. The most effective stich.’s are those in which quest. and ans.

(or argument and retort) are equally effective, e.g. Ag. 1202ff. and Pe. 715ff.

60

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

A scheme that includes tetrameter sets off the rhesis from dialogue even more starkly, but it considerably enhances the potential of actor-chorus dialogue to be an effective balance to the long speech. The short speeches in tetrameter supplement stichomythy and allow the chorus to perform more effectively as interlocutor. But a formal consideration remains: granted that tetrameter presents "short speeches" as well as dialogue, what distinction can be made between the "short" tetrameter speech and the rhesis, which may range in length from upwards of forty to a mere ten or fifteen lines? Could the tetrameter create its own

“rheseis,’’

to rival those of the trimeter ? Analysis of the Persians’ tetrameter speeches suggests that these speeches are structured differently and show little of the trimeter's facility for tight organization.

Comparison of “long” tetrameter speeches with a trimeter speech of equivalent length shows the difference clearly. The opening rhesis of the Ghost (13 lines, 681 ff), like other short rheseis centering on a single theme, is a striking example of ring style. Since the rhesis tends to preserve its form even in diminished length, the abbreviated body of the shorter speech brings opening and close into sharp juxtaposition and makes the tight organization of the piece more readily apparent.°! The Ghost opens with an address, and a question: ὦ πιστὰ πιστῶν ἥλικές θ᾽ ἥβης ἐμῆς Πέρσαι γεραιοί, τίνα πόλις πονεῖ πόνον;

(681-682)

The next line refers generally to the disturbance that has alarmed him; its source is two-fold, the Queen’s activities near the tomb (τάφου πέλας, 684) and the wails of the chorus, ἐγγὺς ἑστῶτες τάφου (686). As in the Solon trimeter fragment and as often in the rhesis form, a division of topics unites the speech through a series of oppositions. The technique continues as a break in the middle of a line (688) leads from the urgency of the summons to the difficulty of response: You call me woefully—but it is not easy to get out. οἰκτρῶς καλεῖσθέ μ᾽ ἐστὶ δ᾽ οὐκ εὐέξοδον 51 An example is the short speech (11) of Pelasgos (Suppl. 407ff.), which appears to have attracted the attention of G. Müller to the phenomenon of “Ringskomposition,” (De Aeschyli Supplicum tempore atque indole; Wittem-

burg, 1908) 56ff. Cf. also L.B. 514, Eum. 179, Suppl. 277—all speeches of this type.

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

61

A ghost may not spend much time above ground; a speedy answer is required. Enjambment creates a final effect of opposition:

ἥκω τάχυνε δ᾽, ὡς ἄμεμπτος ὦ χρόνου. (Iam here; but Icannot remain long.)

(692)

The topic question is restated to close the ring and end the speech: τί ἐστι Πέρσαις νεοχμὸν ἐμβριθὲς κακόν; (693) The whole passage is designed to serve the point of the opening and to give to the repeated query an urgency derived from the needs of the living as well as the haste of the dead. In the speech just analyzed, there is hardly a place at which a full stop

could

be

inserted,

since

every

succeeding

member

is

treated as dependent on, or in opposition to, what preceded it. The only real breaks occur after the first two lines and before the last; but the opening and close are naturally separable, since they make up the "ring" of repetition that binds the speech together. The rhetoric of the longer tetrameter speeches is quite different. The first, delivered by the Queen as she enters, is singularly complex. Wealth (πλοῦτος) and good fortune (ὄλβος) are explored in a series of maxims and metaphors whose windings will be discussed in a later chapter on thematic development, an aspect of the play to which the speech makes important contributions. At any rate, the opaque style of the passage makes it hard to tell where the divide between good and bad wealth lies; as is appropriate at the opening of the play, questions are raised and no answers given.

The speech falls into three statements or maxims, each developing out of the other, but each essentially separate.9? The longest tetrameter speech, in which Dareios denounces Xerxes’ impiety, is clearer; but its organization is weak and arbitrary. After an antithetical introduction opposing the swift completion of the oracles to Dareios' hopes for their postponement, the ghost launches a series of comments. There is no subordination;

each successive line is a separate statement: ἀλλ᾽ ὅταν σπεύδει τις αὐτός, χὼ θεὸς συνάπτεται.

νῦν κακῶν ἔοικε πηγὴ πᾶσιν εὑρῆσθαι φίλοις. παῖς δ᾽ ἐμὸς τάδ᾽ οὐ κατειδὼς ἤνυσεν νέῳ θράσει: 52 Even such a formless speech as sort of structuring. For structure of 53 Cf. the discussion in II.2 below. ὄλβος), 165ff. (πλῆθος χρημάτων), and

(742-744)

the Queen's rhesis at 598 gets the same longer rheseis, cf. Ch. II.3 below. The three segments are 163ff. (πλοῦτος / 168ff. (ὄμμα δόμων).

62

TROCHAIC TETRAMETER

The thought of the third line appears complete as it stands: it is Xerxes' ignorance and rashness that are to blame for the disaster, the “well-spring of evils." But a relative clause appended in the next lines brings in Xerxes' actual sin—the bridging of the Hellespont. Four lines follow, of which three play upon the same idea: ὅστις ᾿Ελλήσποντον ἱρὸν δοῦλον ὡς δεσμώμασιν ἤλπισε σχήσειν ῥέοντα, Βόσπορον ῥόον θεοῦ" καὶ πόρον μετερρύθμιζε, καὶ πέδαις σφυρηλάτοις περιβαλὼν πολλὴν κέλευθον ἤνυσεν πολλῷ στρατῷ.

(745-748)

The notion that Xerxes has tried to control and imprison something fluid and divine is expressed in a very tautologous fashion. The "holy Hellespont"' 1s followed by the "Bosporos ... of god," and then by πόρον in the next line. Pairs such as ῥέοντα and ῥόον, καί and x«t, πολλήν and πολλῷ share the same line. The major point of the speech is Xerxes' blasphemy. But only after the bridge has been described is the crime more clearly defined: though a mortal, Xerxes has attempted to master divinities (779-780). The speech concludes with two further topics, Xerxes’ mad folly (νόσος φρενῶν) and Dareios' fear for his wealth. These ideas pick up in a desultory way material from the earlier lines about Xerxes’ rash ignorance (744) and the “spring of evils... for all his friends" (743). But there is no return to a topic stated in the beginning; a number of themes

or

ideas

are

associated

loosely

in

this

speech,

with

no

attempt to make one dominant. The chorus' eleven line speech at 215 has a similar repetitiveness and lack of subordinating structure. The Queen is advised to make two sets of offerings. She should pray to "the gods" to avert evil and fulfill ἀγαθά. . . cot te καὶ τέκνοις σέθεν (218). “Second—devtepov,”’ χρὴ yous / yi... she should pour libations to earth and the dead, especially to Dareios, asking them ἐσθλά σοι πέμπειν τέκνῳ τε, "from beneath the earth into the light. ..," while evils should be hidden in the dark below the earth (221-223). The contrast between good and evil—or light and dark—is an inevitable opposition in ancient

thought;

but

the

chance

for

more

complex

antitheses,

which would have created a subordinating structure in the speech, is entirely missed. The general reference to “the gods" in the second 54 Cf. also the repeated ἤνυσεν, which builds a ring, subordinating 745-749 to 744. Again, the ring is built by a repetition of a word, rather than by a close match of ideas. (ἤνυσεν is also repeated at 721, 726).

THE

PERSIANS

AND

LITERARY

HISTORY

63

line of the speech does not permit us to anticipate that the offerings will be divided between two sorts of gods, a distinction that develops only after the δεύτερον that introduces the second set. The two sorts of offerings are not opposed at all, rather they are made equivalent by the repetition of the good-evil opposition and the repeated references to good things "for you and your child." In these speeches the tight, subordinating form of trimeter style is altogether lacking. While the latter lends itself to expansion, with the various sub-heads shrinking or growing as the topic requires, the tetrameter speech, dense and allusive in language but loose and repetitive in structure, works better in a shorter length. The extension typical of the tragic rhesis, therefore, is not likely to have characterized the tragic tetrameter speech, if the speeches in the Persians are taken as a model. The analysis of the shapes of both sorts of speeches confirms that the trimeter rhesis, isolated and organized for extension, can be contrasted with the material that appears in tetrameter, shorter and less structured speeches, and stichomythic dialogue. The arrangement in which the two meters appear is layered, with tetrameter introducing or framing the rhesis, emphasizing its separation by defining its background. This rather formal arrangement is well-suited to the needs of an art form where an actor and a chorus must face each other and, to some

extent, interact.

The

chorus'

unfitness for the

long rhesis does not place them at so much of a disadvantage, if they can meet the actor on an equal basis in tetrameter. The rhesis then becomes the actor's exclusive area, as the lyric belongs to the chorus.

Before the Queen begins her trimeter rhesis, a rather complex sequence of other metrical types has occurred: the chorus began in anapaests, shifted moved to trochaics.

to lyric, fell back into anapaests, and then The transitional meter of the chorus, the

anapaests, creates a grade or step between the imaginative world of lyric, which often ranges far from the dramatic scene and where emotion may be very intense, and the stage area proper, where entrances and exits of the actors take place and where the chorus has a role to play in dramatic events. Similarly, the tetrameter creates a transition between the absorbing exposition of the narrative rhesis and the events in the orchestra in which chorus and actors share.°> 55 For the correlation of troch. and anapaestic

meters,

cf. the enigmatic

64

TROCHAIC

The

gradual

sequence

of

lyric,

progression

from

TETRAMETER

anapaestic,

musical

tetrameter,

to non-musical,

trimeter

from

is

a

emotive

to objective, from chorus-dominated to actor-dominated poetry. The anapaests, which in later tragedy are the preferred medium through which the actor joins the chorus in song, are a flatter or prosed

version

of the

lyric;

the

tetrameters,

with

their

dancing

gait, are the musical version of lineverse. But, if I am right about their original function, the tetrameters played a most significant role as the medium through which, in early tragic theater, dialogue and interaction took place, and the beginning of what was to become theater took shape. The loss of the tetrameter as an important part of tragic drama may be related, as so much else, to Aeschylus’ introduction of a second actor. At that point, the division of the tragic dramatic universe between an actor and a chorus began to disappear, and the balance between song and speech that was replicated in the two lineverse meters ceased to be at the very center of tragic form. remark of Aristotle (Poet. 1452 ἀναπαίστου καὶ τροχαίου ...

b 23-24):

στάσιμον

δὲ μέλος

χοροῦ

τὸ ἄνευ

II THE AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE PERSIANS

1. PARATACTIC

STYLE

IN DRAMA

The metrical split in tragedy and the juxtaposition of actor and chorus that defines and perpetuates the metrical division, have necessarily had profound effects on dramatic arrangements. Tragic plays like any sort of drama must claim audience acceptance and comprehension for a pretended reality created by the impersonation of the actors and the imagined world in which—however erratically—dramatic time is supposed to elapse.! The chorus, however, has certain traits that tend to limit its participation in dramatic illusion. Already hampered by a group personality inherited from the traditional choral performances, it often shows in lyric a prophetic insight that may contrast almost ludicrously with its timid obtuseness in lineverse scenes.* The result of the chorus’ dual role as singer and speaker is a fragmentation of dramatic identity. The actor, perhaps because he operates largely within

the lineverse

scene,

has

a more

solid identity;

but

he too

may change abruptly from a more sensitive and reflective mood, to become something like an impersonal channel for narration, once

1 G. M. Sifakis has valuable things to say about conventional theater, Ch. 1, "Dramatic Illusion and Old Comedy," in Parabasis and Animal Choruses; A Contribution to the History of Attic Comedy (London, 1971); but he is surely wrong to assume that illusion has no part in ancient drama, or that illusion involves a deception of the audience, either in ancient or modern theater. Cf. the comments of D. Bain, Actors and Audience; A Study of Asides and Related Conventions in Greek Drama (Oxford, 1977) 4-5, and 6, “Actors pretend to be the people they play and the audience accepts that pretence. That is all that I mean...[by] the term ‘dramatic illusion’. "' 2 In Pe. the contrast between lyric and nonlyric choral "prophecy" is stressed by verbal parallels. The true fears at ro-11 (xaxduavtic ἄγαν dp-

σολοπεῖται θυμὸς ἔσωθεν) are to be contrasted with false prophecies at 224-225: ταῦτα θυμόμαντις ὧν ool πρευμένως παρήνεσα

εὖ δὲ πανταχῇ τελεῖν σοι τῶνδε xplvouev πέρι. a judgment that the Queen rightly deplores later, φαύλως αὔτ᾽ ἄγαν ἐκρίνατε (520). Cf. the similar contrast between the prophetic fears of the Ag. chorus at 979 (cf. 104ff.) with their later rejection of Kassandra’s prophetic skills (1098-1099), when they speak trimeters, while she sings in lyric. Misunder-

standing of the chorus’

role can result in the presumption

of accidental

“inconsistency’’ caused by mere oversight (DAWE, 46, 59) or may create misinterpretation of the lyric, if one assumes that its meaning is limited by the probable psychological range of the chorus as actors (cf. the discussion ot the mesode,

II.2,

n. 10).

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

67

he leaves dialogue behind to deliver a lengthy rhesis. Of course the use of tetrameter for dialogue amplifies the alienating quality of the rhesis and thus qualifies further the integrity of the dramatic illusion.

The presence of such built-in inhibitions to the full development of the drama’s imaginary world suggests that in its early years tragedy presented a satisfying and aesthetically rewarding form of drama that was not wholly dependent on impersonation and illusion for its impact. The actor in pre-Aeschylean drama is likely to have been a figure similar in function to the chorus: that 1s, he was primarily a commentator rather than an “‘actor’’ or participant in a dramatic event, a figure who might at times take his view of the myth from a rather remote and isolated point. I have already suggested that in actor-chorus drama the necessary serial form makes it difficult for a single personality to dominate a play. The play will acquire movement and interest only through the exit of the actor, who

can

then

reenter

with

news

and

in

a

new

role. Until the original actor was set free by the recruitment of a second, his necessary function as a newsbringer or messenger to a static group was the primary dramaturgical given of tragic theater. This given continues to shape Aeschylean theater down to the last two plays of the Oresteza, where a new kind of interaction among actors replaces the former patterns.? That Aeschylus makes a varied and ingenious use of message-bearing figures such as Danaos or Dareios should not obscure the continuing emphasis on bringing news, or the concomitant

sense of division—especially

strong in the three earliest plays—between the fixed chorus and the more mobile actors. The formalization of the messenger scene in Sophocles and especially in Euripides is a part of the usual process in which an original element in the tradition gradually passes into a position of higher relief, by contrast with its changed surroundings. Later tragedy offers the audience vivid scenes of interaction and conflict among the actors, who come and go in rapid succession; the relation of messenger to chorus or other auditor becomes, though still powerful and effective, somewhat anomalous, 3 For a strong statement on the early actor's role as messenger, cf. SCHADE-

WALDT, Uvs., 111ff. For an opposing view cf. TAPLIN, 84ff.; I attempt to answer some of his objections in the text below. Cf. also GARVIE, 105-108; and DEICHGRABER,

38.

68

PARATACTIC STYLE IN DRAMA

because it now contrasts with the more naturalistic dramatic style prevailing in these plays.‘ The alienating quality of the long rhesis, and the division it

imposes between speech and dialogue, fits the messenger role as no other. While being questioned by the chorus, the messenger may express his own anxieties or joy; but, when he begins to tell his tale, the narrator tends to become a transparent medium for the story, to which his own reactions are irrelevant.5 In the Persians the Queen's address to the Messenger draws specific attention to the necessary suppression of affect that the role entails.$ On the other hand, the anxious or foreboding mood which Snell traced in Aeschylean theater belongs peculiarly to a situation in which the

performers are in fact observers of the action rather than primary participants, affected by the dramatic event without being themselves able to affect its course." When messenger and chorus meet, the passivity of these performers generates their intense and fearful curiosity about the dramatic event, feelings which are shared—to a lesser extent—by the audience itself. Bacchylides’ tragic dithyramb (18) is an excellent example of this sort of theater: Theseus' progress towards Athens is a rumor brought by a herald from the Isthmus, who has reported the deeds of an unknown youth.® The "chorus," however, dimly guess that the boy's singular prowess

will lead to great goods—or

great evils. Further

poignancy

is

4 The entry of the ἐξάγγελος in the O.T., for instance, makes a strong impression of formality (1223ff.). The formal introduction is familiar from other plays (e.g. Ant. 1193, O.C. 1580-1581). In the long, vivid speech which follows (note the messenger's regret that the interior scene cannot actually be seen, 1237-1238, cf. Tvach. 896-897) the old style of reported drama clashes a bit with the new style of on-stage revelation which dominated the preceding scenes of lively and complex dialogue. 5 The longest tragic speeches are all by messengers, cf. II.3, below, n. 18. 6 Clarity and vividness in narration are obscured by any persistent emotive responses on the part of the teller. In Medea 1136ff., the messenger expresses strong concern, but proceeds to belie it—in naturalistic terms—by

the minuteness of his observation. Cf. L. Di Gregorio, Le scene d' annuncio nella tragedia greca (Milan, 1967) 19-20. The urging to the Persian messenger that he speak, xel στένεις κακοῖς ὅμως (295) is merely a formal recognition of this perennial problem of the clash between expressive and narrative

modes. 7 Cf. SNELL on Angst, 35, 41-50. 8 Cf. SCHADEWALDT,

Arion's

period.

Uvs.,

It seems

109. But this dithyramb is unlikely to reflect

instead

to have

readapted

more

contemporary

tragic form to the strophic lyric; D. A. Campbell (Greek Lyric Poetry; New York, 1967; 440) points out that strophic form is ill-adapted to the

question-answer format of the song.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

69

gained by having the conventional messenger displaced by Aigeus, who is quite ignorant of the significance of his news. In this early and persisting relation, chorus and actor (allowing for the contrast between "poetic" and "'prosaic" expression in lyric and trimeter) are quite similar in stance. Except in certain Aeschylean plays where the chorus is protagonist, tragic choruses

generally continue to exhibit this outsider status, as they speculate on the great figures of myth, which they like Klytaimestra's watchman view from afar, ἐμπρέποντας αἰθέρι. But, where the actor himself is another such outsider, and functions as a messenger rather than as a director of events, the situation is simplified: actor and chorus are then both placed somewhere between the heroic world and the world of the theater. This kind of mimesis, which stops at a point intermediate between the full impersonation of a mythical protagonist and a flat narration of myth, is a plausible beginning for drama, or for proto-drama. There is of course a profound and well-marked division between drama and any other poetic performance in lyric or trimeter; but the full requirements of impersonation impinged only gradually on tragedy, as actor and chorus moved slowly towards active and independent dramatic personalities. The Persians, a play in which this earlier function of the actor as newsbringer is still relevant, preserves for us something of the flavor of a theater for which characters and stage action are peripheral, while vision and understanding are at the core of the dramatic experience. It is a theater of contemplation in which the mind continually supplements the evidence of the senses.

While dramatic

tragedy

was

performance

to become in the hands

a smoother

and

of Aeschylus’

more

unified

successors,

the

Aeschylean plays and particularly the Persians, reveal some of the charms and power of theater in a day when organic unity was not a major aim of the poets. The dominant intellectual and aesthetic style of the archaic period, that of parataxis, creates its structures out of elements that retain definition rather than being merged into the whole.? The neat compartmentalization traced above in ® On this topic, cf. FRANKEL, HOLTSMARK, VAN GRONINGEN, and also by the last, ‘‘Paratactische compositie in de oudste grieksche literatuur," in

Mededeelingen d. K. Akad. v. Wetensch. (Amsterdam), afd. Letterkunde, 33.4.3, 1937; and W. van Otterlo, ''Griechische Ringskomposition,” in Mededeelingen, N.R. 7.3, 1948; as well as Beschouwingen over het avchaische

70

PARATACTIC

STYLE

IN DRAMA

the form and function of lyric and anapaestic sub-lyric, or between trimeter

and

tetrameter

in the Persianas,

is an excellent

instance

of the prismatic effect of paratactic style. Both the minor members, tetrameters and anapaests, are used primarily for communication or dialogue, and for stage business, allowing dramatic interaction to intervene in a rather external way on the striking juxtaposition of actor and chorus that may have been original to Attic tragedy. Through its balanced and parallel categories this arrangement of meters replicates rather than obscures tragedy's inherent dualism, which

thus

remains

the

basis of dramatic

structure,

rather

than

any impediment to the artist's aims. The relative independence of the units in this early style has the secondary effect of making prominent and even isolating the material linking unit to unit, so that joinings, as in the typical case of the "ring-form" or recapitulatory ending, tend to be mechanical rather than organic, abrupt and clearly marked rather than fluid and indiscernible.!? One result is that the structure of the paratactically composed work is overt, readily accessible to the conscious awareness of its audience. The references noted by Zielinski to an unused alternative version of the mythical plothne,

and

which

were

found

above

to

mark

the

involvement

of

the second actor in dialogue are only another aspect of this openness about form: ! in these special cases we are able to make out, not only the structure of the play, but the genesis of that structure

and the principles that hold it together. In this archaic art, which does not yet care to conceal itself, structure is part of a complex system of communication between artist and audience. Suspense, the tension before the resolution of the dramatic event, cannot be a major goal of paratactic style, both because of the openness of the play and because the parts are not likely to be subordinated to any single climax. Like Oidipous T'yrannos, the Persians centers on a peripety or change of fortune. But, element in den stijl van Aeschylus (Utrecht, 1937). And, more recently, Harry and Agathe Thornton, Time and Style (London, 1962); D. Lohman,

Die Komposition der Reden in dev Ilias (Berlin, 1970); R. A. Prier, Archaic Logic; Symbol and Structure in Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Empedocles (The Hague, 1976) 1-26. 10 Cf. KORZENIEWSKI, 11.46; he compares the flowing style of Sophocles with Aeschylus, remarking on ''die blockhafte Fügung der Bauelemente, das Aneinanderstossen ihrer Kanten,’

11 Cf. I.2, above.

as a trait of archaic style.

THE

while Oidipous' the reversal in play; and there despair, though

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

71

state changes from best to worst before our eyes, the Persians is continuously immanent in the is no single shock in which confidence changes to a series of such realizations ripples through the

play. The Sophoclean chorus, which seldom assumes the prophetic mood that reverberates in Aeschylean lyric, often approaches a moment of doom in a fever of joy or hope,!? because—like the actors—the choral group are victims of the dramatic irony that has been created by the gap in time and knowledge between audience and performers. The audience in these moments is necessarily alienated from the performers by a foreboding that the chorus does not share and that robs their happy lyric of significance; and the tension before this irony is resolved becomes almost unbearable. In Aeschylean theater, where the performers are not so wholly immersed

in the dramatic

illusion, but are in closer contact

with

the mood of the audience, the people watching the play may be less enthralled and tense; and they may be absorbed by the meaning of the dramatic event, as much as by its realization in stage time. An audience in this mood will have the patience to listen to parallel stories—like those about Io or Helen in the Swpphants and Agamemnon—that bear only a loose relation to the on-stage circumstances, since all the separate parts of the plays, though they appear in sequence, have independent value and help to illuminate the event around which the drama centers. From one viewpoint, Aeschylean theater is primitive; its mimesis of human actions is less complex and enthralling than that of the Sophoclean

play. But, from the viewpoint of the earlier style, a tight, suspenseful, organic dramatic structure deforms every part in adapting it to serve the whole, and reduces the audience to passive and somewhat alienated spectators. It is only in Aeschylean theater that each element in tragedy's synthesis of two genres attains full significance and effectiveness. 1? Aras 694ff., O.T. 1086, Ant. 1115 (and cf.—in a more muted mood and at earlier points in the play—TY. 205, 633, cited in Schmid-Stahlin 2.2, 337 n. 4). All three refer to cults of Pan or Dionysos that feature ecstatic

experience in the wilds; in each case the chorus hopes by pressing forward in action to forestall bad and produce good results. Each immediately precedes a tragic discovery.

13 Cf. J. Jones on Sophocles’ treatment of the Orestes myth, in On Aristotle and Gveeh Tvagedy (London, 1962), 159.

72

PARATACTIC

STYLE

IN

DRAMA

The Perstans is of all Aeschylean plays the weakest in dramatic illusion and the most static in form.!^ Because of the foreboding and fears of the chorus, powerfully expressed in the parodos, and those of the Queen,

with her emblematic

dream,

the news

of

the disaster seems the natural complement of these opening scenes, in which the origin and meaning of the defeat are already evident. The personalities of the major figures are typical rather than idiosyncratic; 15 and the plot, which represents the Persian disaster through a series of revelations or of messages, tends to reduce the

significance of personal encounters: the important meeting between Xerxes and his fondly solicitous mother, though promised, never occurs. The three-part series of messages—in dream, eyewitness, and prophecy—provides a structure that exemplifies the best resources of paratactic style. The defeat is replicated in the speeches of the

Queen,

Messenger,

and

Ghost,

each

time

from

a different

viewpoint and with differing insight. The messages increase in breadth and depth: the final vision, that of the Ghost, ranges over great stretches of the past and future, placing the defeat in ample moral and historical perspective.!$ Yet all three episodes are in a limited and formal sense equivalent. I have already pointed out the similarity of this serial scheme to the episodic plots of actor-chorus drama." W. Schadewaldt has recently discussed the resemblance between the Persians and

the first part

of the Agamemnon.19

The

comparison

between

the two is of great help in illuminating the plot skeleton of the Persians. Both plays seem to be derived from a common model. The Agamemnon cannot be treated as a direct off-shoot of the Persians, since in at least one important respect the later play

14 Cf. E. Spring,

"Exposition

in Greek

Tragedy,"

'". ..& more static drama is almost unimaginable."

(1917)

189:

ROUSSEL remarks

HSCP

28

(93),

"Dans une piéce oü il ne se passe rien, les personnages n'ont pas grand chose

a dire"

(remarking

Cf. BROADHEAD,

on the

chorus’

feeble

interpretation

of the

dream).

xxxili-XXXVv.

15 Cf. the discussion below (II.4) on dramatic personality and its workings. 16 On the broad vistas of the Pe., cf. HUGHES structure, cf. SCHADEWALDT, Urs., 117.

FOWLER,

I. On the tripartite

17 Above, I.2. 18 SCHADEWALDT, Urs., 1371f., cf. the earlier notice of this by NESTLE, Gno., 406: ''. ..das erste Drittel des Agamemnon ist ja—sicher bewusst—in seinen künstlerischen Mitteln einfacher gehalten im Gegensatz zu der ungeheuren Pathetik des letzten und zeigt daher wie auch in seiner Anlage

Ähnlichkeit mit den Persern.”’

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

73

has retained a simpler plot form that had been subjected to a rather sophisticated alteration in the Persians. Both dramas feature the same contrast between homebodies—a queen and a chorus of elderly counsellors—and returning soldiers—a messenger and a monarch; but in the Agamemnon the third person to enter is the king himself. The sequence there is a quite straightforward progression from the Queen’s uncertain information, through sure news from an eyewitness, to reality—the actual appearance of the king.!? The Perstans uses a variant that is clearly its own: Xerxes’ entrance, though expected, does not occur; and an apparition of the dead Dareios is inserted before the appearance of the real king. That the Dareios episode intervenes on an established sequence of Queen, Messenger, King is indicated not only by the parallel of the Agamemnon, but also by the form of the Persians itself. Just at the point at which Dareios is to be introduced,?? following the tremendous news of the Messenger, the Queen makes her first exit, suggesting that Xerxes may enter before she can return (καὶ παῖδ᾽ ἐάν περ δεῦρ᾽ Euod πρόσθεν μόλῃ... 529). The audience is teased with the suggestion that Xerxes’ arrival is imminent; but, when the Queen reenters instead, she proceeds to prepare for the arrival of the other king, the Ghost of Dareios. The false expectation that Xerxes will enter, when he does not, marks the point at which the play’s structure diverges to admit the Ghost’s appearance. The close correlation of the Queen’s second exit with her first—she eventually does leave just before the appearance of Xerxes—sets

off the opening

and close of the

Dareios

scene with

Zielinskian reminiscences of the rejected original that has been improved and amplified by this addition. The altered version is a paratactic amplification of the simpler form: Xerxes’ arrival is postponed, not eliminated; and Dareios 19

The Ag., of course, has also altered this structure to serve its own needs:

Klytaimestra anticipates the herald’s news, imagining the sack of the city in some detail, so that the latter is free to devote himself to the more ominous

news of the storm. A Zielinskian reference underlines the change from a plan in which the queen’s news—as in Pe.—would be vague and inconclusive (274-277): the chorus asks whether Klyt. is influenced by dreams or rumors, and she indignantly rejects such alternatives. Her own source of information

—produced by active planning and much more reliable—suits her vigorous personality, and justifies her usurpation of the ‘“‘eyewitness”’ role. 20 For a fuller discussion see II.4, below.

of the mechanics

of this insertion

of Dareios,

74

PARATACTIC

STYLE

IN

DRAMA

is in fact the closest imaginable equivalent to Xerxes, or rather he is Xerxes bettered. For the defeated and deluded son is exchanged the wise and fortunate father; and indeed the linking and contrast of father and son begins at the first mention of Dareios, who appears rather abruptly in the Queen’s dream, in time to pity the fall and complete the humiliation of Xerxes. The same trick of enlargement by replication that duplicated trimeter and lyric with anapaestic and tetrameter variants is used in the introduction of Dareios. Given the intact and separable units of the paratactic whole, another unit of balanced and matching form is easily inserted in the original sequence. One might say that the new unit is generated by the old, as a variation on it, theme and variation standing openly side by side. The Persians gives us two kings, instead of one. In this case, one result of the added episode is that the effect of parataxis or parallelism is increased, since the first three entrances have now become more nearly equivalent as messages. Xerxes, on the other hand, reduced almost to the status of epilogue, utters no speeches and appears only to lead off the ending kommos.?! The Dareios episode is the play's crowning event, overshadowing and displacing the ending scene with Xerxes; yet the scene with the Ghost is marked as an alien element in the play's inherited, and stil valid, structure. The following chapters examine the themes of the Persians, the sequence of great narrative rheseis and their relation to the tetrameter segments, and finally the play's dramatic

structure.

In

each

case,

the

Dareios

episode

climaxes

and yet transcends the rest of the play. As an instance, dominating motifs and themes, once established in the parodos or the first scene, are consistently elaborated and recapitulated in the rest of the play. Only in the Dareios scene are these themes changed or developed into new images (e.g. of the earth and fertility), while the final kommos reaches back to the original set of themes (catalogues of losses, the destructive power of the sea, the king vs. his army) that are derived from the parodos.?? This discontinuity shows both the isolation of the Dareios episode in the play and the extent to which the separate units of the paratactic chain function effectively while

remaining

separate,

contributing

to a common

which they are never completely assimilated. 21 Cf. SNELL, ?2

Discussed

68; and II.2, below, n. 14, 48. in II.2, below.

whole

into

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

75

In spite of the early date of the Persians, the five year gap separating it from the Seven Against Thebes is probably not sufficient to explain its structural primitivism, since the same trait is displayed throughout the play, in its use of tetrameter, in its retention of the messenger format, and in its use of a plot whose tendency to prefer paratactic balance to dramatic movement has actually been enhanced by the addition of the Dareios scene. If the play had formed part of a trilogy on a mythological theme, it might, even in 472, have required a dramatic structure more similar to that of the other extant plays, with their confrontations between a dominating protagonist and a passionate chorus. Since the Persians places greater emphasis on the fate of an empire than on the personal sorrows of Xerxes or the anxieties of his mother, the world that these performers construct out of their assumed identities and the situation that they are presumed to share is less important to the play than is the event itself, which the performers are to interpret for the audience. The relation between audience and event is paramount, of course, in a play dealing with the defeat of Persia, in which the Greeks had participated, but which they had seen only from the outside.”® It was this relation in the historical play that found a congenial expression in the older stance of the tragic performance, midway between the present reality of the audience and the heroic vista of myth. The historical concerns that were to be developed more than a generation later in the work of Herodotos, Hellanikos, and Thucydides were largely

anticipated by and were doubtless profoundly influenced by the Persians and other poetic and dramatic versions of historical events.”4 The aim of the historical play is understanding or insight, shared between performers and audience, as the tragic event is fully realized in all its aspects. In the Persians, the use of dual lineverse meters further serves to enhance objectivity and coldness in the narrative, emphasizing the actor-messenger's function as a transparent window upon the truth. ?3 This special interest traces of pro-Greek bias themes, cf. BROADHEAD, for instance, is designed

of the audience remains, though the play has few and concentrates quite solidly on Persian-centered xvi-xxiv. The relation between Dareios and Xerxes, from the Persian viewpoint, since it was to them,

and not to the Greeks, that the old king would normally appear as benevolent and restrained in contrast to Xerxes. ?^ For an instance of this influence in Herodotos, cf. the theme of πλῆθος, which reappears in Hdt. 7.49; cf. II.2, below. On the historical concerns of the play, cf. DEICHGRABER, 52-55.

2. MAJOR

THEMES

IN LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

The Persians is a play of messages, and the resolution of such a play, naturally enough, is a kind of knowledge. As the play unfolds, trimeter speeches centered in three major episodes which present the messages of the Queen, the Messenger, and the ghost of Dareios gradually incorporate and assimilate lyric themes. Themes that appear in the parodos in the confused and concentrated form of lyric are explicated in the more discursive medium of lineverse, so that the lyric is like a riddle, through whose deciphering potential knowledge becomes actual. Only in the last trimeter speech of the Ghost,

a figure of oracular vision, does the lineverse

outreach the initial formulation of major themes that is presented in the parodos. The tetrameter, because of its intermediate position, plays an important role in the transition from lyric. Tetrameter long remains the medium of interpretation for the great moral themes of the play, which are present in the narrative reportage of the earlier trimeter rheseis only through certain key metaphors.! The Persians falls short of the lyric stature of the other Aeschylean plays, particularly in the later lyrics, which move consistently within a narrow range of themes and moods, most of which can be derived directly from the parodos. These later lyrics for the most part anticipate or react to stage events. The growing dependency of lyric on lineverse scenes can be paralleled to some extent in other Aeschylean plays, in which the stronger and more independent lyrics tend to cluster around the earlier scenes; but a comparison with the Seven Against T hebes suggests that the very marked spareness of the Persians may be a special feature of the non-mythical play.? The Seven is curiously like a historical play for its first 654 lines: until Eteokles determines to meet Polyneikes at the seventh gate, the history of the Labdakids is very little in evidence, and Eteokles seems to be much like any conscientious ruler of a threatened state. In this first part of the Seven, the parodos and first stasimon, 1 The themes of the Persians have been listed quite comprehensively in the recent book of PETROUNIAS. For comments, cf. the notes of this chapter passim, and especially n. 17, below. 2 For the diminishing lyric impulse, cf. Ag., where the last long ode ends

at 808, and Suppl., where lyrics after line 599 are directed toward stage events.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

77

usually the richest lyrics in Aeschylean plays, resemble the stasima in the Persians, in that they are thematically weak and are directed toward stage events (terror at noises outside the walls, prayers and supplications to the gods).? The second stasimon in the Seven,

which in its wide mythical range and its reflective depth resembles the great odes of the Oreste:a or the Suppliants, follows immediately on references in the previous scene to Eteokles' fatal family history. This reversal of the usual pattern indicates that—in the absence of the mythical background—lyric is less capable of generating independent themes and thus tends to become the handmaid of stage events.

The parodos in the Perstans probably owes its depth and power to the simple fact that it comes first in the play, without even a prologue as introduction. The parodos thus introduces all the major themes to be explicated later, anticipating the action, e.g. in its use of mourning themes—before there is anything to mourn for— and of the catalogue form—before there can be any listing of the dead.* The entering anapaests listing the Persian and allied forces that went out with Xerxes are lengthy in comparison to the rest of the parodos and function almost as a self-contained poem.? The thematic significance of the catalogue, a major motif in this play, is evident: since the task of the historical play is to assimilate to the form of saga events in the more recent past, motifs derived from epic are a useful source of atmosphere. Further, since the new stories are told about barbarians and not Greeks, parts of the epic language and ethos that have become obsolete and strange can be an effective source of dramatic irony. When we hear such a rare verb as στεῦται for the boast of the Mysian host, we may remember that the conventional arrogance of the epic hero is less appropriate to fifth century warriors (49-52).6 The barbarians ? The parodos of the Seven is a mere reflection of off-stage events and noises (151, 160), while the stasimon anticipates the events in a hypothetical sack of Thebes and is thus somewhat more independent of stage (or off-stage) action. Neither reaches the level of a commentary on the dramatic situation. For this lyric type, cf. Jurgen Róde, JENs, 102. * Mourning: 117ff., 134ff. For other instances of the catalogue of dead, cf. 302ff. and the exodos. On the parodos, cf. J. Róde (JENs, 95), "Überhaupt enthält die Parodos 1m nuce die ganze Tragödie.” 5 The Ag. anapaests, the only ones in Aeschylus to exceed the length of those in the Pe., are balanced by a lyric nearly twice as long as that in the Pe. $ On the catalogue

which

does not seem

as an epic motif,

to appear

cf. 1.1; στεῦται,

in early non-epic

no forms extant beside the 3rd s. and pl.

an archaic

poetry,

verb form

except here, has

78

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

are claiming to have "thrown the yoke of slavery around Hellas."

This important thematic idea returns very soon, in the lyric proper, where it becomes the symbol of Persian invincibility and its downfall. The parodos proper begins with ionic verses that refer first to the crossing of the Hellespont by Xerxes, "throwing a yoke on the neck of the sea" (71). The ionics ascend swiftly to very intense and concentrated imagery. Xerxes, driving the royal chariot at the head of his army, is a kind of sacred monster, “‘darting from his eyes the sable glare of the serpent." The army itself is likened to an invincible natural force, which it would be folly to oppose: δόκιμος δ᾽ οὔτις ὑποστὰς

μεγάλῳ ῥεύματι φωτῶν ἐχυροῖς ἕρκεσιν εἴργειν ἄμαχον κῦμα θαλάσσας: In

the

manuscripts,

there

follows

(87-90) immediately

a

mesode,

or

non-responding verse, alluding ominously to the “tricky deception of the ροα--δολόμητιν δ᾽ ἀπάταν 0205," which no mortal can elude. What is said in the mesode is obscured in detail by a ruined text, but its meaning, one of the major themes in Greek moral reflection, is familiar enough to have remained evident: deception lures the hapless mortal into a treacherous situation ("the nets of ἄτη), from which there can be no escape.’ This crucial verse has often been transposed to the end of the ionics, where it marks

a change

of meter and makes a rather conventional coda to what preceded.® In its original position the mesode 1s more arresting and significant; it brings the poetic thread to a break, after a stanza that contains ' After the first of god?/Who (can mesode is a tissue lures mortals into.

lines— "What mortal man can escape the devious deceit make) a swift leap with nimble foot ?’’—the text of the of conjecture. Something grins in friendly fashion and . something: φιλόφρων γὰρ... -oatv... βροτὸν εἰς...

τόθεν οὐκ ἔστιν... ἀλύξαντα φυγεῖν The conjecture of Ατη and her "nets," however is persuasive. Cf. Fr. 301M, and Ag. 361, Prom. 1078. BROADHEAD’s further suggestions for the rewriting

of the text are too ingenious to inspire confidence (58-61). 8 Metrical indications for the placement of the mesode are absent, since it is unique in Aeschylus’ choruses. Wilamowitz (Griechische Verskunst; Berlin, 1921; 337) sees the meter as a πνῖγος to end the series of ionics; others have attempted to arrange the mutilated text into two responding portions, e.g. SIDGWICK. GROENEBOOM retains the original placement.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

79

in condensed form some very important thematic elements.? The Persian army has just been called as invincible as the sea. The effect is a familiar one in Aeschylean verse: the truism about ἄτη, injected at the right moment, creates irony by letting the chorus speak more than they realize.!? The bridge of Xerxes links two continents by an attempt to master water with the "yoke on the neck of the sea." If a bridge can be a yoke, then the Persians are themselves attempting the adynaton that they have used as an archetype of folly.!! The contrast between land battles and sea travel in the next strophe-pair continues the same uneasy theme, a theme whose contrasts wind their way through the play, to find a resolution in the final scene. The parodos stands almost alone in the first half of the play. The next lyric ode does not appear until after the long scene with the Messenger, and it does not bring new themes. The cry of mourning anticipated in the parodos (117ff.) is raised in earnest, with some minor additions: reproaches for Xerxes, nostalgia for Dareios, and forebodings of rebellion. The second stasimon, which follows almost immediately on the first, is perhaps of all lyrics in Aeschylus the most closely attached to stage events. The chorus summon the shade of Dareios to the scene—a task the Queen has given them—; they mention details of the ghostly appearance, the tomb, the position of Dareios as he will emerge from it, and his clothing (659-663). The contemplative detachment of the parodos is entirely absent; the chorus imagine only what the audience is to see a few moments later. The third stasimon, though not a close reflection of stage events, ? Cf. KORZENIEWSKI 1.572-576. His arguments offer good support for the original placement (although he actually proposes inserting the lines between strophe and antistrophe at 105): ''Der Gedankengang der Chorliedes steigt bis zur göttlichen Höhe... und fällt bis zur grössten Angst der persischen Frauen in ihre Verlassenheit. Die Mesode muss ihrer Funktion nach und auf Grund ihres Inhalts im Wendepunkt stehen.’ 10 BROADHEAD repels on psychological grounds Sıpawıck’s defense of the original position of the mesode: “it is a questionable supposition that the Chorus fear that sea-warfare may be their ruin as contrasted with land warfare." (54). But the application of such psychologizing to the chorus is out of place in lyric, where choruses often seem to know more, and perceive

more deeply, than they do in lineverse sections. Cf. Ch. II.1, above. a similar irony, centering on Zeus’ relation to Io, cf. Suppl. 86ff.

For

H On this crucial act of Xerxes, cf. KORZENIEWSKI, 1.566, 572; HUGHES FOWLER, 3-10; PETROUNIAS, 7-9, especially his discussion of the phrase

ἀμφοτέρας ἅλιον πρῶνα κοινὸν αἴας (131-132).

80

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

complements the last scene by listing the sea possessions of Dareios. The catalogue, which had previously appeared in the anapaests and in several trimeter speeches, is an epic device and ordinarily quite alien to lyric; but, in spite of its odd form, the last ode does not depart from the mood of the other stasima.!* Once again nostalgia for the past under Dareios is combined with fear for the future under Xerxes.? By the time Xerxes himself enters, the thematic vigor of the lyric seems largely spent.!* What is left to the final scene is the resumption of older themes; the catalogue of the slain and the corpses washing against the shore appear once again (976-977). The visible proof of Xerxes' torn clothing, already mentioned in each previous scene, is augmented by his empty quiver, a symbol of worthless sovereignty.!? The last lines are merely the verbal correlatives of the vigorously mimetic exit procession, and there is virtually nothing in them to provoke the imagination. The complementary expansion and contraction of the two tragic modes can be traced in the development of the major themes in the play. Two of the most important appear in capsule form in the verse before the mesode of the parodos. These themes are related each to the other, as well as being sufficiently broad to comprehend a number of subordinate lines of imagery. They are not equivalent, however. One, based on vivid metaphors, belongs primarily to lyric, where the symbolic value of language is greater

than the discursive; this is the theme of the yoke, a figure for Persian power and Xerxes’ use of 1{.16 The second motif, which 1? Cf. I.1, above, and further discussion in II.3, below. 13 These themes derive directly from the first stasimon, cf. 555ff. and 584ff. 14 Cf. [I.r, above; and PETROUNIAS, 2. 15 The effect of the quiver depends on a play on words between στολῇ,

usually associated with clothing,

and

στόλος,

which

means

expeditionary

gear, or the army itself. The "arrow-receiver'' is a ‘‘treasury for the arrows,”’ which are absent; cf. θησαυρός as a box or chest, perhaps in Hdt. 7.190, 9.106, clearly in IG 9 (2) 590. What is left of Xerxes’ gear and of his army is merely an ironic reminder of what has been lost. Cf. U. Hólzle, Zum Aufbau der lyrıschen Partien des Aischylos; Untersuchungen über die Bedeutung veligiosen Gedanken- und Formengutes für die Gliederung der Lieder (Diss.

Freiburg, 1935) 20, n. 35; H. Jurenka, “Szenisches zu Aischylos’ Persern,”’ WS 23 (1901) 219; ALBINI, 260-261. 16 This very striking theme has of course been widely recognized, cf. KORZENIEWSKI, HUGHES FOWLER, and cf. bibliography in PETROUNIAS, xvli-xx, and his own account of the yoke, 7-15.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

81

does not express itself in a colorful image, attaches directly to widely-accepted historical interpretations of the Persian defeat, to the meaning of the disaster for the Persian people, and to broader moral

and

social concepts

that

are traditional to Greek

thought;

this is the identification of Persian power with "abundance" or "multitude—7270oc;" and connected ideas about excess.” The motif of the yoke depends on a metaphor out of technical military language. The collateral meanings of the word for “yoke— CuYóv" are joined by the notion of a piece which connects two otherwise separate members, the beam of a balance-scale, or the thwart of a ship on which passengers sit, or even the cross-strap of a sandal. A special usage, referring to the forcible union of separate things, is particularly important to Xerxes' situation: a short-term military pontoon bridge, made usually as Xerxes made his by the lashing together of boats, is called by a word that is closely related to the "yoke," ζεῦγμα. There is nothing poetic about this name; it never appears in the Persians, although Thucydides and Polybios use it for such structures.!? The idea of ‘‘yoking”’ belongs to pontoon structures because they temporarily combine normally separate elements; but it leads, once applied, to another natural metaphor: the two land areas, or the water passing between them, are “yoked” or forcibly united by the bridge. Herodotos frequently refers to rivers as being "yoked—éCvyuévoc;" by bridges of this military type.!? The connections between yoking and Xerxes' 1? Cf. PETROUNIAS, 22-23 on ''Fülle" and 2-7 on ‘Der vernichtete Schwarm." P. carefully separates ''Leitmotiven" with their necessary “ Bilder”’ from mere ''Motive" or ““‘Themen”’ (cf. x); but he frequently misses

the connections among items which have been treated separately. Cf. 28, where he argues that the land-vs.-sea motif remains undeveloped. But this is not the case, as becomes apparent once one inspects the ramifications of a broad and flexible theme, such as that of πλῆθος. P. is perceptive in what he has to say about the images of the Persian army as bees and (later) tuna; but by concentrating on concrete images (the bees remain completely undeveloped, after a single appearance in lyric), he fails to do justice to a subtle concatenation of ideas that rests only in part on concrete images. 18 Thuc. 7.59; Polybios 3.46.2-4, cf. a passage in the Suda that appears

to be a fragment of one of the lost books of Cassius Dio

(Suda — Adler

2.502 — Dio 71.2). Dio states that the Romans were through long practice expert at bridge-building of this sort: flat boats, anchored with a load of

stones, are floated down the current to the bridging point, ἔστ᾽ ἂν ἐπὶ τὴν ἀντιπέραν ὄχθην ἐλάσωσι τὸ ζεῦγμα. 19 Hdt. does not use the term ζεῦγμα, but his use of ζευγνύναι probably shows acquaintance with the idiom, references to pontoon bridges. Note

cf. 1.205, 4.85, 7.114, that ζεῦγμα does not

and 7.8—all derive from

82

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

bridge are thus clear and suggestive. When Aeschylus calls the bridge a ζυγόν, he draws upon ideas firmly rooted in ordinary language. This rich and powerful complex of ideas playing about “yoking”’ is a major motif of the play. The technical and referential language to which ζεῦγμα belongs, while alien to poetic language, is the unseen but strongly sensed complement of poetic meanings. Words collateral in meaning and derived from the same root appear again and again. In these word-plays, there is almost a prophetic quality: the poet’s insights open up the inner, traditional meaning of a flat, referential term, transmuting it through genuine ἐτυμολογία.39 The yoke over water reappears in the Queen’s dream as a conventional yoke, part of a chariot that links two draft animals, with a straightforward allegorical significance. The connection with the parodos is implicit, but unstated. Xerxes yokes the two women, who though sisters live in a state of conflict (stasis), to his chariot. The chariot, known to the Greeks as a symbol of Persian royalty, has already appeared in the parodos.? Here it becomes the means of uniting, through its yoke, two inimical peoples, miming the significant act of Xerxes that the play celebrates, the king’s attempt to link his hegemony over the East

Hdt.’s usage

(since it is really the boats that are yoked

together

to make

the ζεῦγμα); the opposite seems to be the case, since ζευγνύναι is not used of ordinary bridges, or even of pontoon bridges very often in prose (although, cf. Xen. Anab. 1.2.5). (The word-play may not originate in Aeschylus either, if Bakis’

oracle is authentic,

to recall Xerxes’

cf. Hdt.

8.20)

In the orators it is a cliche

invasion in these Aeschylean-Herodotean

terms:

ὥστε τῷ στρατοπέδῳ πλεῦσαι μὲν διὰ τῆς ἠπείρου, πεζεῦσαι δὲ διὰ τῆς θαλάττης, τὸν μὲν Ἑλλήσποντον ζεύξας, τὸν δ᾽ "Ac διορύξας. Isoc. Paneg. 89-90, cf. Lysias 2.29.

20 The

concern

generation

after

for ἐτυμολογία Aeschylus,

is,

which however,

seems

to belong

strongly

properly

present

in

his

to the work;

cf. J. H. Quincey, 'Etymologica,'' RAM 106 (1963) 142-148; and R. SchweizerKeller, Von Umgang des Aischylos mit dev Sprache; Interpretationen zu reinen Namensdeutungen (Diss. Zürich, 1972). S.-K. shows the frequency of etymologizing with names in Aeschylus and its place in his poetic style,

67-79.

21 For the chariot, cf. the oracle in Hdt. 7.140; its authenticity is defended

by Burn, 347ff. I do not agree with PETROUNIAS, 10, and KORZENIEWSKI, I. 577, in seeing a reference to horse and wagon in 163ff. Πλοῦτος and ὄλβος are closely equivalent, almost identical, so that it would be confusing and unnatural to think of them as chariot-rider (or chariot) and horse. The vague

and difficult language suggests that no clear image is intended.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

83

with an empire across the Aegean. The Greek woman “smashes the middle of the yoke," but later, in a lyric (594), the chorus fears rebellion, “since the yoke of strength has been loosed." With the usual flexibility of thematic development, the reappearance of the yoke is not governed by the form of previous instances; it merely picks up another aspect of the theme. Here the yoke is released, presumably by the untying of the ζυγόδεσμον, rather than violently broken through the muddle.? Because the release or freeing of rebellious vassals from the restraints of arbitrary power is at issue, the context demands a different treatment of the yoke's dissolution. It is only in the last scene that the yoke and its implications leave allegory and image to move into the actual matter of the drama.

The

boat-bridge,

up to line 722,

is never

mentioned

in a

lineverse scene, or anywhere but 1n the lyrics of the parodos; the metaphor is kept vivid only by the striking scene in the dream. It was the dream that first proposed Dareios as a significant contrast to Xerxes, and the meaning of the dream itself awaits resolution until the Ghost appears. Xerxes' bridge across the Hellespont yokes Asia to Europe; it also binds or enslaves the sea, setting a yoke upon the "neck" of the ocean that connects and separates the

land-masses.

These

notions,

which

have

evident

elements

of

contradiction, are kept balanced throughout the play by another idea, that of the double army. The strategy of Xerxes in mounting an expedition that combined land and sea forces is stressed by repeated variation on the words πεζός | vaurıxöc.?? Xerxes has thus attempted to link not one, but two sets of irreconcilables:

Asia is joined to Europe and land to sea forces. In another sense, there is only one set: the Persians represent Asian land power, and the Greeks—through judicious emphasis on Salamis and the sea-ward dependencies listed in the last ode—are tacitly treated as a sea people. The trochaic stichomythy between the Ghost and the Queen (715-739) and the speech of Dareios following turn explicitly upon the bridge as a strategic solution to the problem of combining land and sea armies. 22 The

loosing

of the

yoke

is expressed

in a series

of liquids:

λέλυται

γὰρ λαὸς ἐλεύθερα βάζειν (592-593). The repeated L-sounds suggest the loosened tongues

of the folk,

cf. λαλεῖν.

23 Cf. 19 and 76 in the parodos; and 719-720, 728, below. Cf. KoRZENIEWSKI, 1.563.

84

MAJOR

THEMES

IN LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

Dareios: Was it as foot-soldier or sailor that the wretch made this foolish attempt? Queen: Both: there was a double front for the two armies. Dareios: How was he able to accomplish the crossing of such a large force on foot? Queen: With devices (μηχαναῖς) he yoked the strait of Helle, so as to have a means of crossing (πόρον). (719-722) The first and last words in the Queen’s second answer are key terms here. Between them they establish a distinct context very familiar in Greek moral thought. Technical skills, which develop the devices (μηχαναί) and means (πόροι) by which the chaotic and unpredictable can be mastered typify both the glory of human intelligence and its taste for the perilous.?* A ramification of this close association of the good and the bad in human striving is the distinction at 163 between πλοῦτος, the active and dynamic principle in wealth, and ὄλβος, its settled and benign aspect.?° The paradoxes of acquisition, and of inventive or adaptable intelligence are related to the theme of ὕβρις. In the parodos, the Persians, originally land fighters, had displayed adaptability by learning (ἔμαθον) 35 to travel over the “wide-wayed sea—eveundpoto θαλάσσας---, trusting to fine-cabled ropes and devices for the transport of people—A«onópotc τε μηχαναῖς" (109-114). The word πόρος is closely connected to the πόντιον &Acoc; it is the path over a pathless waste, spied out by the trained eye of the pilot, as well as the fording place across a smaller stream.?” The phrases mentioned above apply ambivalently either to boats themselves, the means of travel over water, or to the bridge made

of boats. Bridges and boats are both likely to rouse superstitious fears, since both represent a hazardous application of technical skills in the attempt to tame water.?? In settling on the bridge as 24 For a full treatment of πόρος, μηχανῇ, and other terms relating to craft and intelligence, cf. M. Detienne and J. P. Vernant, Les ruses de l'intelligence ; La métis des Gvecs (Paris, 1974), πόρος, 143-164 passim; μηχανῇ, 33, 50.

25 The distinction is valid, but fluid. The two are not usually contrasted, and are often treated as synonyms

(e.g. Pe. 755-756,

Solon 6W.3).

But for

statements of a clearly negative nature about wealth (e.g. Solon 13W.71) the appropriate term is πλοῦτος. 26 Cf. HOLTSMARK, 65. For a pejorative use of μανθάνω, cf. Pindar Ol. 2.94-95. 3.39, Ol. 27 Cf. 28 On

(Elsewhere Pindar uses διδακτός with 9.107-110.) Detienne/Vernant; above, n. 24; 145ff. the perils of bridge-making, cf. J.P.

Waters;

The Meaning

of the Title Pontifex,’

the

same

Hallett,

TAPA

101

emphasis:

'Over

(1970)

Ne.

Troubled

224-227.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

85

the symbol of Xerxes’ error, the poet chose an image rich in traditional associations as well as one capable of further expansion

through the even more fertile figure of the yoke. The tetrameter dialogue is the final piece in the elaborate pattern that slowly emerges in oblique ways in the rest of the play. As often in sticho-

mythy, the last question and answer are like a pair of coordinate riddles, the answer corresponding to much more than the surface form of the question. The theme of the yoke continues to be worked out in the longish trochaic speech following (739-752). Ideas which were hinted at in the parodos receive a clear exposition, once they are no longer veiled by the combined effects of uncertainty—since at the play’s opening the Persians were not yet known to be defeated—, the good-will of the chorus, and the essential vagueness of the lyric medium. Xerxes, Dareios argues, attempted to enslave the Hellespont and “hold it back from flowing—oynoeıv déovta.’’ 29 Xerxes attempts to control the sea and to "discipline" it (μεταρρυθμίζειν), even though it is he who stands in need of harsh discipline. Herodotos' version of the story places emphasis on the king's desire to

punish the water; Xerxes even has the waves beaten.?? The Aeschylean Xerxes attempts no such direct insolence, but the references to bondage and discipline show that such tales were already part of the tradition. The tragic Xerxes seems to want to control water, to bind it and hold it fast, thereby violating its fluid nature.?! Here is at last the precise counterpart in lineverse to the ironic adynaton of the parodos. All the materials were present even in the lyric, but they are unfolded only long after in this tetrameter

passage. In order to combine land and sea power, the Persians ventured to affront the dangerous and lively power of water, an element always risky and uncertain. The archaic gnomic poets, speaking of the shameless

human

drive for wealth

or mere

survival,

think

first of seafaring, as in Solon 13W: σπεύδει δ᾽ ἄλλοθεν ἄλλος: ὁ μὲν κατὰ πόντον ἀλᾶται ἐν νηυσὶν χρήζων οἴκαδε κέρδος ἄγειν ἴχθυόεντ᾽ ἀνέμοισι φορεόμενος ἀργαλέοισιν, φειδωλὴν ψυχῆς οὐδεμίαν θέμενος: 29 Cf. PETROUNIAS,

13.

30 7.35; Xerxes’ attempt to make the water his slave is suggested by the

fetters (πεδῶν ζεῦγος) he throws into the water, and by the branding irons. 31 For binding as a magical form of control, cf. Eum. 306.

86

MAJOR THEMES IN LINEVERSE AND LYRIC

This is the first trade to be mentioned in a list of several; that of farming follows. The same format is observed in the ode in the Antigone, where sea-travel is adduced as the first instance of human δεινότης, followed by farming and other accomplishments.?? In seafaring, both the restive search for πόροι and the urge toward wealth, traits that are a sign of danger in human nature, are particularly aggravated. The sea itself is a malign element, prone to changes and to caprice. The dangers of shipwreck—loss of wealth, an unburied death, or being marooned and perhaps enslaved in a hostile land—are a common topic of the poets.?? Because of these traditional associations, a direct connection of the sea with the Greeks would be a difficult theme for the Persians; and

in fact in the patriotic stichomythy closing the first scene Athenian sea-prowess is not mentioned. Persia, on the other hand, is explicitly designated as a land power, by the express decree of fate.?* The attempt to control water with the boat-bridge was necessary because of Xerxes’ dependence on a large land army. He had thus to attempt to master the sea on Persian terms, making it safe for land forces; and it was on this paradox that his great attempt foundered. The second major theme is less vivid than the first; rather than being a metaphor, it consists of associations clustering loosely around a somewhat neutral term associated with abundance and with multitudes of people—ra78oc. The two themes are linked by a historical problem of Persian war strategy, and at one point they converge in a water-metaphor. The first theme uses the yoke as a symbol of linking through water and mastery over water. It is the concrete model of a tactical problem: how shall the Persians overcome a free, sea-based power, without losing touch with the sources of their own strength? The problem is a trap; and his attempt to solve it leads Xerxes into disaster. The second strategic

problem is a variation on the first: how shall the Persian empire, with its overwhelming force of numbers, extend itself at full power 82 Cf. note 24 above. In Semonides 1W.15-18, the sequence is different; but the prominence of sea-faring is notable. Cf. also the remarks of Hesiod (W.D. 682-687). 33 For the malignity, cf. Semonides' sea-woman, 7W.27ff. On shipwreck, Archilochos (or Hipponax 115W); Od. 5.451-473, 6.119-121. Cf. A. Lesky, Thalatta; Der Weg der Griechen zum Meer (Vienna, 1947), Ch. 1, “Ursprungliche Seefremdheit der Griechen," 1-38. 34 θεόθεν γὰρ μοῖρ᾽ ἐκράτησεν τὸ παλαιόν... (roi). ~

95

,

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

87

into an alien area? Although the focus of the play is primarily on the sea campaign, this view of Persian strategy applies with equal weight to the land invasion, and the problems of supply associated with it. The connections of πλῆθος to water keep the sea in focus until the final scene, when concern shifts to the land battle

at Plataia, and the key word πλῆθος is replaced by other terms associated with abundance and excess, notably ὕβρις and ἄτη. The development of the second theme shows clearly how ideas first spawned in the lyric work themselves into the tetrameter and trimeter parts of the play. The yoke appears in a number of vivid and picturesque guises. "Abundance—multitude," more concept than image, has strong concrete associations; but, bland and vague as it is, it casts its

nets wide, sweeping in a number of significant traditional motifs, common in Greek gnomic and reflective poetry. The theme of πλῆθος groups a number of ideas loosely under the rubric of a rather colorless word, repeated often and in such significant ways as to acquire symbolic weight almost in spite of itself. In political terms, the zA70oc—a "multitude" or mass, the political majority, the common people—refers to amount, magnitude, or number—in the sense of an indefinite quantity, rather than a series of integers, or ἀριθμοί. Other meanings for πλῆθος are not much attested outside poetry, but the verbal correlatives suggest a wider range. Πληθύω and πλήθω mean “to be full, to multiply or spread (of living organisms),"

and to be “at full," as a river at flood, or the sea at high

tide.?® This connection is underscored by the only appearance the

word

in Aeschylus

outside

the Persians,

a despairing

of

speech

of the Argive king (Suppliants 469ff.) : xox&v δὲ πλῆθος ποταμὸς ὡς ἐπέρχεται ἄτης δ᾽ ἄβυσσον πέλαγος οὐ μάλ᾽ εὔπορον τόδ᾽ ἐσβέβηκα, κοὐδαμοῦ λιμὴν κακῶν. The image of an ocean of evils can be paralleled in the Persians (433) and elsewhere in tragedy. The idea of a flood, strong current, or tide in water is of more than passing metaphorical interest in the Persians, however;

it is an image

that unites “fullness,

abun-

dance, multitude’ with the other major theme, the yoke over the sea. The point of union for the two themes is that same crucial spot 35 Of rivers at the full, Il. 5.87; 11.492.

88

MAJOR THEMES IN LINEVERSE AND LYRIC

in the parodos, just before the mesode. The mesode in its original, and clearly appropriate, position serves to stress the verse it follows, a verse that is 1n effect the lyric key to the play. These lines combine in one image the yoke over water, the tide and swell of the sea, attempts to master water, and an ironic identification of the Persian host itself with the “resistless billow of the sea’’: δόκιμος δ᾽ οὔτις ὑποστὰς

μεγάλῳ ῥεύματι φωτῶν ἐχυροῖς ἕρκεσιν εἴργειν ἄμαχον κῦμα θαλάσσας: The irony is two-fold. First, the fools who would attempt to control the ocean are not the Persians’ opponents, but the Persians themselves. Second, the ῥεῦμα φωτῶν becomes a metaphor for disaster in the Messenger's speech, where the Persians, compared with schools of dying fish, are dammed like living waters in the narrow places of Salamis.?6 Since the word is rare elsewhere in Aeschylus, the number of times πλῆθος appears in the Persians is significant of its importance. Eight of the eleven instances appear within the Messenger scene, between the end of the catalogue of Persian dead (33r), and the beginning of the last speech in that scene (479).?” Therefore, the stress on πλῆθος coincides exactly with the narration concerning the events at Salamis. The word makes two earlier appearances. The first is in the opening anapaests, where the Egyptian sailors are called ‘‘dread and unnumbered in multitude—750oc τ᾽ ἀνάριθμοι (40). This is relatively straightforward; the word hews closely to its ordinary meanings in prose, of amount, and of a mass of human beings.*8 The second occurrence of the word—a highly significant one—is in the Queen’s first trochaic speech, in which she depreciates a χρημάτων ἀνάνδρων πλῆθος (166). Like the later trochaic speech of the Ghost, this speech pulls together a number of reflective themes that are of considerable importance to the play, stating them as 86 For above;

the

comparison

of corpses

to fish,

cf. Od.

22.384,

Lesky,

n. 33,

18.

37 The word occurs outside the Pe. only in the Suppl. passage quoted above. Inside the play, the word appears as follows: 40, 166, 334, 337, 342,

413, 429, 432, 477, 803.

38 As often in poetry, the grammar of the phrase suggests the idea of amount, while its associations in the passage impose with equal strength that of mass and population.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

89

moral generalizations. The Queen is concerned with the relation of πλοῦτος to ὄλβος, lest active wealth may overthrow settled prosperity (163-164). The Queen’s thoughts form a moral opposition that she herself calls vague, “inexpressible—&ppaoroc.” As often in the earlier poetry the general meaning of the proposition itself is clear enough: both wealth in possessions and wealth in men are requisite for national well-being. But this simple base is overlaid with a welter of apparently ornamental additions that in effect profoundly distort it: "Such is the double concern that is unutterable in my heart, not to respect and reverence a mass of unmanned possessions—nor does light shine for those without possessions, in proportion to the strength that is present.” ταῦτά μοι διπλῇ μέριμν᾽ ἄφραστός ἐστιν ἐν φρεσίν, μῆτε χρημάτων ἀνάνδρων πλῆθος ἐν τιμῇ σέβειν μήτ᾽ ἀχρημάτοισι λάμπειν φῶς ὅσον σθένος πάρα. First, the grammatical form of the opposition is warped out of logical shape, since the first part is hortatory, while the second is

expressed as a factual statement.?* But the force of the halves of the antithesis after all is far from equal: it is wealth that usually receives too much honor, not poverty. The possessions of unsupported wealth are “unmanned,” while the poor have "strength," presumably derived from human rather than material resources.” But “light does not shine for them" as much as their strength would warrant. The negative side of poverty is obvious enough to be left vague. Light may be something (such as τιμὴ) that the wealthy have, or a general term for the good things in life that may be cut off from the poor in spite of their "strength. 39 Cf. the remarks of SIDGWICK, 13. That is, the first half might have been introduced by ἀξιόω, and the second by νομίζω. 40 A. J. Podlecki's reading—A ntichthon 9 (1975) 1-3, "Three Passages in Persae’’—of 166, in which χρημάτων ἀνάνδρων is construed absolutely, is perverse. His treatment of 167 involves a considerable distortion of BROAD-

HEAD's comments

(e.g. “For those lacking in wealth, what strength they

possess does not shine as a light," was not proposed by B.as''the only meaning [1.167] will bear," but as "another conceivable meaning," in a footnote.)

Podlecki

attempts

to have

σθένος

be “in some

sense.

. . dependent

on

xenuata’’ and emends napa to κάτα to facilitate this, translating σθένος as "their

(intrinsic,

former)

power."

The passage clearly resists this violence;

σθένος can only be what remains to those who do not have χρήματα. 1! Madoc relates to life, as in the common

βλέπει.

For victory in war,

phrase in Pe. 299 ζῇ te xat φάος

cf. Il. 6.6, 21.528

etc.

Cf. PETROUNIAS,

245.

go

MAJOR

The

THEMES

use of πλῆθος

IN

LINEVERSE

for wealth

AND

introduces

LYRIC

a further element

of

confusion, since the word is often used to refer to numbers of people. "Avavdpog increases the ambivalency, since its ordinary prose meaning, “cowardly,” applies to human beings rather than things.*? Later in the play the meaning of this apparently inappropriate language is revealed, when it becomes clear that the huge numbers of Persian and allied troops are a major handicap in the sea battle and that a great army may represent genuine strength, or the bogus wealth of mere possessions. Πλῆθος ἀνάνδρων suggests that in fact the two halves of the "opposition" may become identical, for a “‘mass of cowards" is what the "strength" of the Persian army became at Salamis. The confusion inherent in the πλῆθος ἀνάνδρων χρημάτων is strongly amplified by the couplet that follows. The meaning of σθένος had appeared to be explained by the use of "unmanned" in the other half of the opposition: strength comes from human resources rather than from material ones. But now the citizenwealth seems to be identified with Xerxes and his survival, as the

same imperfect antithesis is restated: Our wealth (μέν) is faultless, but (δέ) there is fear for the eye, For I consider the eye of the house to be the master's presence— δεσπότου παρουσίαν. The

use of a noun

derived

from

πάρειμι

recalls the phrase

σθένος

πάρα just above.*? This echo, and the inherent associations—in Hellenic idiom—of "eye" with “light” ** helps to transfer the meaning of the vague term "strength" from the idea of population as a national resource to the presence of a single person, the master— δεσπότης. Without him, the vast array of the empire is "unmanned" and weak. The vagueness of the first part of the antithesis makes the transfer from men to master smooth

and almost undetectable,

42 This meaning seldom appears in poetry, but it is common in prose; and ordinary usage in every case is the assumed background for any poetic

usage, cf. the discussion of ζεῦγμα and ζευγνύναι for pontoon bridges above, and KORZENIEWSKI,

43 An

echo

1.583, n. 102.

of this phrase

occurs

also in the last stasimon

(901-903):

ἀχάματον δὲ παρῆν σθένος [ἀνδρῶν τευχηστήρων {παμμείκτων τ᾽ ἐπικούρων. Cf. KORZENIEWSKI, II.60. 44 For the notion that the eye sees through an inherent affinity for light, cf. the words for seeing in B. Snell, Die Entdeckung des Geistes (3rd ed.; Hamburg, 1955) 18; and the Homeric metaphor in which eyes are lights—

φάεα xaA&.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

OI

while it sets up the notion of z70oc—and of qxoc—as metaphors that appear in the following scene with the Messenger. This tetrameter passage is in function similar to the tetrameter speech and stichomythy of Dareios at 715ff., though it is opposite in effect. There, themes richly developed in lyric receive for the first time a reasoned interpretation in moral terms. Here, at the very beginning of the lineverse part of the play, the Queen’s gnomic formulation packs together a mélange of moral and historical themes, which remain relatively unsorted, awaiting exposition at a later time. We hear nothing directly related to them in the Queen’s trimeter narrative, which merely recounts her dream, although the tetrameter stichomythy that ends the first scene picks up several topics. The Athenians’ ἀνδροπλήθεια and their πλοῦτος are mentioned, along with the contrast of the master/king and his subject/slaves with free men.* Further speculation on the theme of πλῆθος is delayed until the final scene. In the intervening long trimeter scene with the Messenger, the theme appears as a strong metaphor. Though there is no place for reflection or interpretation in that scene, the fact that the Persians had great numerical advantage is underlined (through many repetitions of πλῆθος and related words), as is their utter dependence on Xerxes' will. The usual association of barbarian armies with an undifferentiated mob is certainly present in the Persians; the anapaestic catalogue of the host underlines the lack of cultural identity. But the catalogue form with its echoes of epic leaves no way clear to decide between the pejorative and the honorific significances of the army’s greatness and diversity.

In the actual host described by Herodotos,

of course,

the most prized generals and their troops were native Persians, while the polyglot effect of the army was due to the addition of forces from a host of subject-nations. This historically valid distinction is not contradicted by the play, but it is given no thematic importance*®. Instead, the army is treated as a unified whole and 45 235,

237,

and

241-242.

PAGE

suggests that an apparent

break at 235

may have contained a reference to ships. Discussion below will indicate why I think this somewhat unlikely; the extant lines have a consistent preoccupation with land-warfare.

46 The

homogeneity

of Hellenic forces and

the motley

armies of their

adversaries go back to Homer, cf. Hans Schwable, ‘‘Das Bild der Fremden Welt," in Grecs et Barbares (Fondation Hardt, Entrétiens 8, 1961) 4; he cites Il. 2.803, 4.433. The adjectives παμμιγῆς and πάμμεικτος (269; 53,

903) are almost unexampled elsewhere, though the former is picked up by later writers for exactly similar contexts, e.g. Timotheos, Pers, 188. They

02

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

opposed to its omnipotent ruler. All the Persians and their allies are joined in subservience to Xerxes. This places the barbarians in a natural opposition to the Hellenes: the Athenians are “‘nobody’s slaves (242), because no one is master over their army, ἐπιδεσπόζει στρατῷ. Persian heroes and Babylonian refuse are equivalent in their total dependency on the master; they cling about him, like a hive of bees about their king (127). The idea of Xerxes as the key to Persian well-being is appropriately expressed by the Queen, his parent; but, as events prove, she is mistaken. The real relation between Xerxes and his army is revealed only in the course of the play and is the main burden of the final kommos. The Queen’s joy at the news of Xerxes’ survival introduces the formal contrast between king and army into the Messenger scene, where the reversal begins.*’ She describes her feelings in terms of light (φάος μέγα) and the contrast between day and night (300). The catalogue of Persian dead balances the news of Xerxes’ survival. In the long Salamis narrative, the motif of night and day—in which Persian confidence and Persian error correspond to the long night before the battle, while the day brings terrible disillusionment—belies the false dawn of joy that Xerxes has not died. The reality of the despotic ruler’s position gradually appears: he is a god-like being who must ever remember, as Kyros and Dareios did, his humanity. Though not accountable to his people (ody ὑπεύθυνος πόλει, 213), he is so to Zeus, who is set over him as a harsh auditor (εὔθυνος βαρύς, 827-828). In all his swarm of followers, the king alone is free; but without them following him the king is naked and useless, like a quiver without its arrows, or an eagle plucked of its feathers.*® By far the greatest number of appearances of the word πλῆθος in the play, or anywhere in Aeschylus, occur in the Messenger's scene. There are four appearances in twenty-one lines of dialogue may

be

Aeschylean

coinages.

Further

depreciation

of the

mixed

army

comes from σύρδην (54), cf. the use of συρφετός for refuse. 47 For this balance, cf. the remarks of HOLTSMARK, 101. Further discussion of the use of the night/day metaphor will be found in the next chapter, where the messenger's speeches are analyzed. 48 The monarchial role of Xerxes is empty and meaningless: the

appropriate ornaments of monarchy were his followers (κόσμου τ᾽ ἀνδρῶν ods viv δαίμων ἐπέκειρεν, 920), and not the κόσμον ἐκ δόμων that the Queen intended to bring her son. Xerxes' lack of function finds its echo in the play's structure, where Dareios displaces him (cf. II.r, above); cf. also the remarks

above in this chapter on the thematic exhaustion of the lyric at this point.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

93

(331-352) preceding the battle narrative. These references begin as the rhythm of the play shifts from mourning for the dead to circumstantial and precise questioning: “Was the number (r70oc) of the Greek ships sufficient to justify engaging battle with the Persian fleet?" the Queen asks. The Messenger responds, "In point of numbers (πλῆθος) be assured that the ships of the barbarians would have been superior. . ." (337), and goes on tosay, "A thousand in number (πλῆθος) were those ships he led..." Later, the Queen rejoins, Who began—was it the Greeks ?—the battle, Or my son, boasting in the number (πλῆθος) of his ships?

(351-

352) All the instances are similar in meaning “number,

amount,

quanti-

ty," but most admit as well a secondary meaning of “‘majority, preponderant number," suggesting the superiority of Persian numbers over Greek. The insistent repetition of an otherwise colorless word forces πλῆθος to the fore, but the conversion of an empty play on words to a significant idea depends upon the second half of the Messenger's long speech, the attack in the narrows. The passage from 412 to 430 draws attention not only to the word, but to its verbal relatives, πλήθω and πληθύω. The first reappearance merits careful attention, since it activates the quiescent attachment of πλῆθος to πλήθω and water at flood, the image that appears in the passage quoted from the Suppliants. At 412 the word ῥεῦμα is used to describe the fleet : τὰ πρῶτα μέν vuv ῥεῦμα Περσικοῦ στρατοῦ ἀνεῖχεν: ὡς δὲ πλῆθος ἐν στενῷ νεῶν ἤθροιστ᾽, ἀρωγὴ δ᾽ οὔτις ἀλλήλοις παρῆν. .. The same word appeared in the key passage of the parodos (89) to describe the Persian army: no one could withstand the great ῥεῦμα φωτῶν or fence in the κῦμα θαλάσσας. Here, in the Salamis disaster, the flood of the host is indeed penned in; by a kind of verbal magic, the adynaton comes to an ironic fulfillment. The remainder of the battle narrative contains other plays upon the notion of the real sea—and the sea of men. As the massacre progresses, the sea itself disappears under the flood of human dead: θάλασσα δ᾽ οὐκέτ᾽ ἣν ἰδεῖν, ναυαγίων πλήθουσα καὶ φόνου βροτῶν.

ἀκταὶ δὲ νεκρῶν χοιράδες t ἐπλήθυον.

(419-421)

04

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

This unnatural tide of dead leads neatly into the identification of the dead and dying with fish, who are netted in great numbers to be clubbed and butchered in the shallow waters. The overlap between flooding (of waters) and teeming (of animal life) in πλήθω and πληθύω enhance the convergence of the two halves of the image. The ending coda of the speech (429-432) uses πλῆθος twice more, for a final heavy emphasis: κακῶν δὲ πλῆθος, οὐδ᾽ ἂν εἰ δέκ᾽ ἤματα στοιχηγοροίην, οὐκ ἂν ἐχπλήσαιμί σοι. εὖ γὰρ τόδ᾽ ἴσθι, μηδάμ᾽ ἡμέρᾳ μιᾷ πλῆθος τοσουτάριθμον ἀνθρώπων θανεῖν. >4

The multitude of ills corresponds to the multitude of dead. The apparently-invented verb στοιχηγορέω suggests orderly counting and implies, without stating it, the strategic mistake of confidence in numbers alone, already suggested by the dialogue that introduced the speech.?® The application of what has largely remained a metaphor based on word-play awaits the last episode, where so many riddles are to be explicated. The significant moment occurs when the chorus break into the last scene with their demand that Dareios produce his anticipated good advice, “How in these circumstances still might the Persian people do best?” (787). The Ghost responds that

no

greater

further

invasion

numbers

(791).

attempts

The

earth

should

be

made,

itself is ally

xTElvouca λιμῷ τοὺς ὑπερπόλλους ἄγαν.

to

even

the

with

Greeks,

(794)

The pleonastic expression figures the redundancy of the overpopulous army, whose numbers impede progress and make supply a problem. The reason why excessive numbers proved disastrous 19 This use of πλῆθος, like the notion of the floating corpses, has been anticipated in the Messenger’s opening epirrhema with the chorus, 272: πλήθουσι νεκρῶν δυσπότμως ἐφθαρμένων [Σαλαμῖνος ἀκταὶ πᾶς te πρόσχωρος τόπος. The metaphor comes directly from the parallel situation in the Il. (21.218), where Achilles offends the Scamander by filling its stream with

Trojan dead : πλήθει yap δή uot νεκύων ἐρατεινὰ ῥέεθρα. 50 Parallel to στοιχηγορέω is another creation of the poet's τοσαυτάριθμος,

an adjective whose tautologous form replicates the stress on counting and numbers. ᾿Εκπλήσαιμι whose meaning is more remote from πλῆθος, coming in the next line, picks up the sound and thus increases the notice we will give to the repetition of πλῆθος in the last line of the quatrain. Similar and recapitulative of this passage is the Queen's final summarizing comment

at 477: τοσόνδε πλῆθος πημάτων ἐπέσπασεν.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

905

at Salamis was a different one, but the general principle of the failure of excess is common to both tactical errors. These ideas about Persian strategy have a practical historical significance and have figured in almost every modern account of the war.°! Herodotos himself examines the question in a wonderful conversation between Xerxes and the faithful Artabanos, a piece which evidently owes a great deal to Aeschylus (7.49). As Artabanos urges his fears, the king offers to raise another army, asking whether "the foot army is to be faulted in respect of numbers (μεμπτὸν κατὰ πλῆθος)... or whether our fleet (appears likely to) fall short of theirs." Artabanos replies that no one would complain as to tév νεῶν τὸ πλῆθος, and goes on to make Dareios' point: the greater the army, the greater the danger of supply problems.°? Artabanos next refers to an associated moral problem: should Xerxes receive no opposition, he will be the more likely to advance to a point of danger, εὐπρηξίης δὲ οὐκ ἔστι ἀνθρώποισι οὐδεμίη πληθώρη The word πληθώρη is rare, and has apparently been chosen to underline the thematic relation to πλῆθος; the dangers of success are rooted in human nature. The ideas expressing this relation are very widely represented in archaic andin classical Greek thought, both poetic and philosophical. They are usually expressed by ὕβρις and ἄτη, and related terms. The mesode had called up this imagery with its reference to a trap set by the smiling and fawning ἄτη, which lures victims into the nets of destruction—pıAdppwv γὰρ

παρασαίνει

(96).

The

theme

is powerfully

represented

in the

Agamemnon, where Klytaimestra springs the trap.9? In the Perstans the full development of these ideas is postponed to the final speech of the Ghost, once the meaning behind the theme of excessive numbers has been explicated. The key word πλῆθος is 51 Cf. BURN, 330 (supply) and 456 (logistics at Salamis). 52 Hdt.'s dependency on Aeschylus here is further confirmed by Artabanos' remark about δύο τὰ μέγιστα πάντων ἐόντα πολεμιώτατα, 1.6. γῇ τε καὶ θάλασσα

(7.47-49)—cf. Dareios at 792, αὐτὴ γὰρ ἣ γῆ σύμμαχος κείνοις πέλει. 53 Cf. Ag. 725 of the lion cub who becomes vicious, and the pervasive imagery of nets and traps. Cf. A. Lebeck:

and Structure (Cambridge,

Mass.;

The Oresteia; A Study in Language

1971) 63-68. The Ag.

(771ff.) suggests a

special moral theory of bad families and ill-gotten wealth. The older theory

of wealth as dangerous in itself lurks in the background (e.g. roorff.), and it applies better ancestors.

to the

Pe.,

where

no

moral

blame

attaches

to

Xerxes'

96

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

no longer much in evidence in that scene, but the concepts it seeded are everywhere. To the strategic reference to excess, τῶν ὑπερπολλῶν ἄγαν, corresponds the moral fault of Xerxes, τῶν ὑπερκόμπων ἄγαν (827), in the last speech. The word πλῆθος occurs once only, and in no very prominent position, to describe Mardonios’ army,

πλῆθος ἔκκριτον στρατοῦ

(803). Since this second force zs limited

in numbers, the strategic stricture will no longer apply to it. The use of the thematic word here marks a breaking off, and a change of direction.4 What remains are the moral implications that are to be developed in the last speech. The imagery in the last speech derives from associations of excessive growth and hyper-abundance with ὕβρις. Streams of water reappear under a new guise; the sea theme once displaced, we hear of the Asopos, the enricher of the Boeotian plain near Plataia (806). Fugitive images of fertility, of a perverted and grisly sort, lead to the couplet at 820-822, an extended agricultural metaphor for ὕβρις and ἄτη: © ὕβρις γὰρ ἐξανθοῦσ᾽ ἐκάρπωσεν στάχυν ἄτης ὅθεν πάγκλαυτον ἐξαμᾷ θέρος. The crop οἱ ἄτη is a land analogue to the grisly catch of Persian dead

about

Salamis.

In

both

cases,

the

false

abundance

has

a

double edge of irony, since the deaths represent unequivocal evil for the Persians, while being a good omen for Greeks.?® Underlying the metaphor of the flowering of ὕβρις and the harvest of ἄτη are the uses in ordinary language of ὑβρίζω and ἐξυβρίζω for burgeoning plants that must be treated by pruning. Abundance of nurture (πλῆθος τροφῆς in Theophrastos) leads to overabundant leafage and a bad harvest.?? A surfeit of doing νν6}}---εὐπρηξίης πληθώρη---ΟΥ 54

On the stylistic effects of this technique,

to the navy at 478; and II.4, below, at 801. 55 Shrines are ripped up rpöppıla

cf. II.3, below,

on the reference

on the oracles mentioned (812).

The

combined

by Dareios

conjectures

of

Schütz and Housman at 815 add a further possible water metaphor: κοὐδέπω κακῶν | κρηνὶς ἀπέσβηκ᾽, ἀλλ᾽ ἔτ᾽ ἐχπιδύεται. Blood is an offering (méAavoc) to the earth (816). The dead will speak even to the “‘Third-seeded generation --τριτοσπόρῳ γονῇ (818)." None of these vague metaphors is connected with fertility directly (except φίλον πίασμα at 806); but all help to build a sense

of theme

and

to create

the

connection

between

death

and

agricultural

metaphor. $6 On this reversibility of positive to negative, cf. PETROUNIAS, 27. 57 Cf. Michelini, “ὝΒΡΙΣ and Plants," HSCP (1979) 37-38. A further

support for this connection in Pe. is the use of ὑπέρφευ, a very important

THE

AESTHETIC

an overabundance

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

07

of resources leads to an inevitable reversal; and

the swelling fullness of Persian power has its necessary harvest of ruin. The images echo only faintly in the final kommos. The δαίμων has cut back (ἐπέκειρεν) °® the people, and the chorus wails for the χώρας ἄνθος... πάνυ ταρφύς τις μυριὰς ἀνδρῶν ἐξέφθινται (926-927). Finally at 1035 the chorus summarizes the loss of men by saying, “Our

strength

has

been

cut

off—o®évog

γ᾽

ἐκολούθη᾿᾿ Κολούω,

which ordinarily means “dock” or "prune," appears nowhere else in Aeschylus; and since σθένος in the play always refers to population, this would appear to be a final instance of the agricultural metaphors.°? The image of the multitude (πλῆθος and its correlatives) supports the metaphor of ὕβρις, without being a part of it. The idea of fullness and flooding in water being once used up, the concept spawns a new metaphor with few lyric roots in the play, the fertile crop of ruin. The independence of the last speech is characteristic, since the whole Dareios episode is to some extent separable from the main line of the play. For the rest of the play, the dominance of the parodos is virtually unbroken. Both the themes of the yoke/bridge, and of the super-abundant multitude can be traced to the key segment before the mesode, where the Greeks are imagined as feebly trying to pen up the rolling waves of the Persian host. It may seem strange that the moment of unity precedes the full development of either theme; but in the paratactic manner the

balance of the play is an explication in varied styles of what appears first in enormously concentrated form in lyric. The trimeter and tetrameter parts severally unravel the tight lyric skein into looser and clearer patterns, reusing every part of it with immense economy. The vividness of lyric compensates for the vagueness of its statements and their contradictory or enigmatic form. In the trimeter speeches, which—except for the last—limit themselves strictly to factual accounts, the use of dream allegory or repeated metaphors term since it occurs in a line (820) whose language is recapitulated continually in the rest of the speech, cf. II.5, below. 58 ἐπικείρω also occurs in Theophrastos, cf. H.P. 7.4.10, 8.7.4, 9.6.3. It

refers to plants such as leeks that are cut back several times in a season, either because the cuttings are used or to retard excessive growth (φυλλομανεῖν — 8.7.4).

68 Cf. Michelini, "YBPIZ' on pruning, appears two other times, 167 and 901.

42-44

(above,

n. 57).

Σθένος

98

MAJOR

THEMES

IN

LINEVERSE

AND

LYRIC

keeps alive the lyric impulse and deepens the significance of the original images. The tetrameter functions as a link between trimeter and lyric, providing the interpretation in reflective moral terms

of what is implicit and metaphorical in both the other modes.

3. THE RHESEIS The lineverse part of the play falls naturally into three segments that deserve to be called "episodes" in the original—if not the Aristotelian—sense of the word.! Each represents the entrance or ἐπείσοδος of a new character, who conveys new information in one or more long trimeter speeches.? The eight long speeches, which average thirty-eight lines in length and make up nearly threequarters of the Persians’ trimeters are—as Korzeniewski has pointed out—of two distinct types. Some bring information in the form of a narrative, while others convey it in the looser form of a catalogue or list. The narrative speeches are of special significance. The first reveals the Queen's dream; the second and third tell the tale of Salamis and the related events on Psyttaleia; the fourth is the Ghost's prediction of a further disaster at Plataia. Taking the Messenger's description of Salamis as a single unit, we find three major narratives corresponding to the three main episodes. The other four major speeches can be distinguished from the first group by style, structure, and function. Each takes the form of a list, with separate items developed in relative independence of each other. In these catalogue speeches, the material is less subordinated to the dramatic event; and separate items are more

fully developed

and

displayed

than

in the narrative

speeches.

The Messenger, whose central scene is a greatly expanded virtuoso

display of four long speeches, has two catalogue speeches, one opening and the other closing his message. The first is a list of Persian dead;

and the second,

an account

of Xerxes'

march home

given as a sequential geographical list. The Queen has no catalogue speech in her first scene, but the speech that marks her second entrance is clearly of this type: she lists rather elaborately the items assembled for the propitiatory sacrifices to the lower gods. ! For more conventional SIDGWICK, vii-viil.

segmentations,

cf.

WILAMOWITZ,

47-51;

and

2 On the émetaodoc cf. K. Aichele in JENS, 47-54. 3 KORZENIEWSKI discusses the catalogues 1. 556-558; and 2. 27-37, where he compares the structure of Ag. 281ff. The long speeches are 176ff. (39),

302ff. (29), 353 (80), 447 (25), 480 (35), 598 (25), 759 (28), 800 (43). They total 304 trimeters, 71 % of the total of 429 trimeters in the play.

IOO

THE

RHESEIS

The last such speech is given by the Ghost of Dareios, a listing of the Persian monarchs in chronological succession. The distinction between catalogue and narrative speeches is clearer in the Perszans than in other plays, since only in this play do catalogues make up an important class of speeches. But there are a number in other Aeschylean plays as well. The material contained in such speeches stands, as it were, in apposition to the business of the play, like an ornament or cadenza. Klytaimestra's beacon speech in the Agamemnon (281-316) * is such a piece, as is the history of the Delphic oracle given by the Pythia in the prologue to the Eumenides, and King Pelasgos’ geographical description of his realm in the Suffliants (249-273). The Seven Against Thebes is unique in that its seven matched pairs of speeches are almost wholly display pieces rather than narratives, forming in sum a catalogue of fourteen warriors and their armor. These speeches as a group are the dramatic center of the Seven, although the fulcrum of the action is in the last speech of the series, in which Eteokles makes his decision to face his brother. Such is not the case with the display pieces in the Persians. The play does not focus on them and they are largely transitional in function. The first scene centers entirely around a single narrative speech introduced in portentous fashion. The Queen, after explaining her anxiety in a trochaic speech, addresses the chorus directly only at its end.

At that point, she asks their advice,

calling them

"aged pledges—Y»*poXé« πιστώματα᾽᾽; and they respond in kind, with elaborate courtesies.? The ornamental politeness, and the emphasis on counsel about the /ogos that is to follow,$ draw attention to the long speech about to begin, and to the border dividing trochaic tetrameter from iambic trimeter. À variety of metrical changes, from anapaests to lyric, back to anapaests, and then to tetrameter, have preceded this first break into the spoken meter. An elaborate five line introduction further underlines the importance of the change to trimeter. The opening, like the traditional preface

* Cf. the previous reference to KORZENIEWSKI. 5 Cf. the chorus' response (173-175):

εὖ τόδ᾽ ἴσθι, γῆς ἄνασσα τῆσδε, μή σε δὶς φράσειν μήτ᾽ ἔπος μήτ᾽ ἔργον ὧν ἂν δύναμις ἡγεῖσθαι θέλῃ εὐμενεῖς γὰρ ὄντας ἡμᾶς.

. «καλεῖς.

86. Ὁ --οὐμβουλοι λόγου (170). . . πάντα γὰρ τὰ κέδν᾽ ἐν ὑμῖν ἐστί μοι βουλεύματα (172). Ch.—nu&c τῶνδε συμβούλους καλεῖς (175).

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

IOI

to any tale, emphasizes the importance of what is to be related and establishes the formal integrity of the narrative: I have lived with many a nightly dream since first my son equipped his army and went off, hoping to sack the land of the Ionians. But never yet have I seen one so clear as that of the preceding eve. I'll tell it to you.’ After its elaborate preface, the structure of the speech is quite spare. The narrative is of the purest, with connectives absent or very simple.’ Xerxes’ intervention in the quarrel between the two sisters,

his

attempt

to

yoke

both

to

his

chariot,

and

Dareios'

appearance to witness his discomfiture are given no logical supports but are simply juxtaposed. The narrative is built at its opening around a simple μέν [δέ antithesis between the female figures symbolic of Barbary and Hellas.? Next, the two women are opposed to Xerxes, whose course of action, quite unmotivated,

is described

in four paired verbal expressions. The first pair, arranged for an effect of alliteration, indicate the taming of the women (κατεῖχε x&noXuvev—100), while the second—two -μι verbs each at the head of its line—show how Xerxes disposed of them (evyvuaw. . . τίθησι--101-102). At 193 the sisters are again opposed: ἡ uév—like a dutiful 7"

πολλοῖς μὲν αἰεὶ νυχτέροις ὀνείρασιν ξύνειμ᾽, ἀφ᾽ οὗπερ παῖς ἐμὸς στείλας στρατὸν ᾿Ιαόνων γῆν οἴχεται πέρσαι θέλων.

ἀλλ᾽ οὔτι πω τοιόνδ᾽ ἐναργὲς εἰδόμην ὡς τῆς πάροιθεν εὐφρόνης: λέξω δέ σοι. The scheme of contrasting the general—many dreams—with this specific dream may be compared to the Queen’s second rhesis (598ff.) in which her specific action is an instance of general human fears. The latter figure, called παράδειγμα οἰκεῖον by H. F. Johanssen (General Reflection in Tragic Rhesis; A Study of Form—Copenhagen, 1959) is rare in Aesch. (cf. 54, 61-62 on this passage) and more common in Eur. (84). 5 Both 181 and 188 open major segments without connective particles; elsewhere, δέ suffices (e.g. 189 παῖς δ᾽ Euöc..., 197 πίπτει δ᾽ ἐμὸς παῖς). Contrast the particles at 200, where a major break occurs after the dream: καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ON... ® These

(and

figures,

which

Aeschylus’—M530)

Hellas

and

Asia

seem

stand

Δίκη

for

and

to belong

nations,

other

naturally

are

such

a

step

beyond

goddesses.

to the visual

The arts,

Hesiod’s

abstracted where

they

permit the injection of literary significance into a simple picture, as in the modern

political

ficazione"

in

the

cartoon;

cf.

Enciclopedia

the

entries

dell’

Arte

under

Antica

“‘Tragedia’’

(Milan,

and

1930);

''Person-

and,

for

Τραγῳδία cf. J. D. Beazley, Attic Red Figure Vase Painters (2nd ed.; Oxford, 1963),

1258.1,

1258.2,

1055.76.

102

THE

RHESEIS

woman, or a well-trained steed—delights in her harness; 7 δέ reacts violently. A series of three verbs with some complex assonances—éopadate ... διασπαράσσει ... ξυναρπάζει 1—is followed by the symbolic downfall of Persian power: x«i ζυγὸν θραύει μέσον (196). Attempts to reconstruct a logical chariot accident seem pointless in view of the impressionistic suddenness of the event, and the confusion between the human and the equine in the role of the women-horses.!! Another simple antithesis emerges suddenly in the next line, where a pattern of alliteration sets off the central contrast or pairing of child and father: πίπτει δ᾽ ἐμὸς παῖς καὶ πατὴρ παρίσταται

(107)

Dareios’ pity and Xerxes’ shame are correlatives; the name of each man stands at the head of each of two succeeding verses: Δαρεῖος οἰκτείρων ape: τὸν δ᾽ ὅπως 60% Ξέρξης, πέπλους ῥήγνυσιν ἀμφὶ σώματι. πον

/

e

7

3

\

,

The narrative of the dream merely presents a series of events without any attempt to introduce motivations or other logical glue. The technique is a realistic reproduction of the non-logic usually associated with dreams, and it has the further merit of leaving the symbolic relations of the various figures in high relief. Motivations

would

be

extraneous

and

could

only

obscure

the

significance of what is done. At the beginning of the speech, the audience was told to expect only a dream of the previous night. But, on completing the dream, the Queen introduces another simple antithesis: on her rising, a second ominous event occurred. xai ταῦτα μὲν δὴ νυκτὸς εἰσιδεῖν λέγω. ἐπεὶ δ᾽ ἀνέστην... (200-201)

The narrative of the omens is also simple and direct, though the Queen’s 10 Note

actions that

receive

-(s)parass

the

in the

sort second

of verb

motivating corresponds

explanation— -arpazd-

in the

third, which also rearranges the sounds of the first (-aizde vs. -azdei). The first and second echo an opening consonant group as well: espha- vs. -aspa-. 11 For the sequence of actions, cf. PETROUNIAS, 11; P. applies both διασπαράσσει and ξυναρπάζει to the ἔντη δίφρου. BROADHEAD’s attempt to develop a logical sequence (80-81) is wasted, since, as P. points out, the "horses" are also women who use their hands as no animal could.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

103

θέλουσα θῦσαι xeAxvóvy—that was absent in the dream. The language, perhaps to balance the simplicity of the sequence, becomes even more ornate in its use of assonance and alliteration. In 201 and 206 elaborate sound-chiming (parechesis) links χεροῖν | καλιρρόου or Φοίβου φόβῳ. The speech ends with a short coda, again in antithetical style: “This is fearful for me to see and you to hear." Xerxes in success would be very fortunate, while in failure—the negative side of this second antithesis is not completed, but veers off euphemistically—Xerxes would still be king.!? The motif of the sacrifice, added

onto the dream

narrative as a

sort of after-thought, introduces the dominant theme of the Queen's action in the body of the play, a theme that will eventually culminate in the summoning of Dareios' ghost. The notion of propitiation, along with that of the contrast between Xerxes and Dareios, arises in a natural and unforced way from the dream and the Queen's subsequent actions. The chorus' response to the dream, their

advice,

is a mere

echo

of the

sacrifice

motif:

the

sacrifice

they recommend is a dual one, to the gods and to the dead, especially Dareios. If the Queen's speech had ended with the dream, the chorus' response would have seemed plausible, cogent, and hopeful— and might have passed almost unnoticed by the audience. As it is, the idea of sacrifices, having appeared twice, begins to assume the stature of a theme; and the grim evidence that propitiation has already been tried and has failed to work marks the bland optimism of the chorus as inadequate, while preparing for the speedy arrival of the Messenger, with evil news. The

combining

of both

the

Queen's

pieces

of news,

the

dream

and the omen, into a single speech severs information-giving from advice, sets off the whole narrative as a block, and strengthens the

contrast between the extended speech or rhesis or dialogue. The simple and rigid form of this of the three episodes to use a single actor, is of the uses of dual lineverse meters. The split

and short speeches scene, the only one the best indication in the actor's role,

12 The effect of this ending is to support the development of the themes discussed in the previous chapter and associated with the πλῆθος ἀνάνδρων

χρημάτων: Xerxes’ position, which permits of no εὔθυνα by an aggrieved populace, is unassailable. His people cannot therefore be separated from their ruler: what happens to him, happens to them. 13 STÓSSL, I5I.

14 Note especially the effect of repeated and emphatic use of eu (225); cf. Ag. 121, 217, and esp. 500, as well as Suppl. 454.

IO4

THE

RHESEIS

between interlocutor and narrator, is most striking. The themes of moral reflection, as well as the giving and taking of advice, are

wholly confined to the tetrameter, while the trimeter presents an utterly unadorned sequence of events.

The resumption of tetrameter follows the rhesis, with the longest dialogue speech given any chorus in Aeschylus. The usual motivation for the insertion of a "long" (five or six line) choral speech is absent, since the Elders are not in conflict with the Queen and are only urging her to perform further sacrifices.!? This lengthy reply of the chorus creates a formal balance to the Queen's opening fourteen line tetrameter speech, so that the narrative is set off by two roughly equivalent exchanges of tetrameters. The scene ends with a stichomythy about Athens that is quite abruptly introduced over the Queen’s natural intent to turn to the proposed new sacrifices. The special topic of the stichomythy and its singular interest to the audience correlate with its uncommon function as a transition to the next scene.!6 The tetrameter is probably better suited, because of its musical accompaniment, to substitute for a lyric and to contrast effectively with the spoken trimeters with which the Messenger opens. The content of the stichomythy—which touches upon the themes of population, wealth, and allegiance to a single master—restates the concerns of the Queen’s opening tetrameter speech. These themes reappear at last in explicit form in the

scene

with

the

ghost

of

Dareios;

in implicit

or symbolic

form, they are continually suggested by the Messenger’s narratives in the next scene. The second episode begins with a trimeter announcement and a passionate epirrhematic dialogue of Messenger and Chorus; but the

role

of interlocutor

is soon

transferred

to

the

Queen,

who,

ordering the Messenger to “unfold the whole event," 17 sets in motion an extended series of trimeter speeches by her informant. The speeches are arranged in a rather elaborately patterned sequence, and the scene centers around the longest rhesis in Aeschylus.18 The Messenger’s second speech, lengthy even for the extended 16 Cf. Ch. 1.3, above. 16 On the audience’s probable reaction, cf. ROUSSEL, 99; and ALBINI, 257. 117 πᾶν ἀναπτύξας πάθος, 294. 18 Euripides and late Sophocles have rheseis of comparable or greater length; all are delivered by messengers, cf. B. Mannsperger in JENS, 146-147. The longest comparable speech is Ag. 855ff. (59 lines); the opening speech of

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

IO5

compass of the tragic rhesis, is unique in the play, since only at this point would memories of the audience intersect exactly with Persian experience. No tetrameter is used to border the central narrative of Salamis; and indeed, where there 1s so much to be told, it would be hard to recreate the effect of the first scene, in

which everything is packed into a single speech. Instead the same bordering pattern is created by a different device, the use of the catalogue rhesis. The first long speech lists the dead barbarian lords, dwelling at length on a special Persian concern for these dead that must have been relatively alienating to the audience, for whom, as for us, they were merely names. Separate figures appear not as part of a battle action but as grotesquely drifting corpses, or at the moment of their deaths. These deaths are given the same treatment as the description of battle kills in the

ad;

the macabre

quality

often seems a direct echo of epic, as in the case of Dadakes, who makes a “light leap" out of his ship when hit by a spear. Here, as often throughout the play, the piquancy of foreign ways—which seen without sympathy appear bizarre and repellent 1°—is played off against the equally great potential of the Persians' tragedy to arouse compassion. The use of epic motifs suits the catalogue, and again, as in the use of "boasting'" in the anapaests, associates the Persians with elements in the old forms that have become alien and alienating.?9 Themes from the anapaests abound in this catalogue; * it is

the same listing, then told with anxiety and pride, that now becomes a grisly series

of deaths.

The

motif

reappears

much

later in the

final dirge; but the announcement at this point of the deaths of the Persian lords and allied rulers places a period to the time of foreboding in the usual manner of the paratactic style, where repetition typically marks the end, as well as the beginning, of a "ring." The list of the dead completes one circle of concern, as it the Eum. is really two speeches, broken by the exit and reentry of the prologue-speaker. (N.b. Mannsperger's figures—for Aeschylus at least—are incorrect: Pe. 176ff., 480ff., and 8ooff., as well as L.B. 260ff., are all longer than the shortest speech in her list of Aeschylus' ten longest.)

19 Cf. KORZENIEWSKI,

2.28. He divides the speech into six-line segments,

each marked by “ein leichter Spot,” at 305, 310, 316. (29)

20 That is, descriptions of bizarre deaths are conventional to epic and inappropriate in fifth century literature. Cf. also GROENEBOOM’s note on the jests mentioned in the previous note and their epic forerunners, 77. 21 Cf. HOLTSMARK,

92ff.; KORZENIEWSKI,

2.27.

106

THE RHESEIS

separates what might have been a whole into two segments: the factual narrative of the defeat and its circumstances is kept quite apart from the emotional reactions of the Persians themselves, and from their inevitable curiosity to know the fate of individual heroes. After the completion of the catalogue speech, the deaths of no more individual Persians are enumerated by the Messenger, and his tale proceeds unimpeded by strictly Persian concerns.

The effect is to set off the two central narrative speeches, placing them in a clearer light and distinguishing them from the alien and exotic background. Catalogue speeches demand a different sort of attention from the audience; for modern theater, they would certainly be considered tedious. In the display speeches, a series of names, whether proper and exotic or riddling—like the elaborate kennings in the Queen’s second entrance speech—are significant in general effect and total import, while single items may be less important. Since the chain of logical relation does not connect the items, it matters less if the hearer misses e.g. Sesames the Mysian, since other names in the list will convey a similar meaning.?? Narratives are necessarily more subject to the rules of hypotaxis, whether the stylist is archaic

or

not.

There

are,

however,

degrees

of structure

in

the

catalogues as well. The Messenger’s last speech, while it belongs to the same class, builds up to a climactic disaster with considerable

effect; the beginning and end points, Troy and Argos, are of more note in Klytaimestra’s beacon speech (Ag. 281) than any of the intervening points. The Messenger’s first speech, however, is quite an arbitrary arrangement; it substitutes the recapitulatory structure of the list for any subordination to time of death, rank of combatant, place of death, or the like. The transitional trimeter dialogue after the catalogue speech (331-352) marks a very pronounced break in tone and in the whole rhythm of the scene. After the long catalogue of the slain, one would expect a speech of mourning and regret from the Queen.?4 22 1 cannot see, aS KORZENIEWSKI (1.28-29) does, coherent unifying themes—e.g. death by water vs. death on land; cf. 323, where Tharybis is a leader of ships. Syennesis at the end receives high praise; and this is a

kind of climax, though not such a strong one as to disturb the essentially equal value of each item in the catalogue. 23

For

formal

structure,

cf.

KORZENIEWSKI,

cited

in n.

19,

above.

24 Especially since the themes of female grief had already been suggested in the parodos, cf. 61-64, 122-125, 134-139. Cf. the discussion of the Queen's psychology in II.4, below.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I07

Indeed, she does respond with the almost obligatory cry of woe (atat—331); but to mourning she devotes only a single couplet. She next breaks off, using the rather rare particle ἀτάρ, often used in epic and in prose dialogues—though not in tragedy—as a marker of rapid and abrupt transition from one thought to another.” Once more, the Queen, who began the scene by urging the Messenger to "stand and speak," calls the Messenger to a strictly factual account: he is to begin all over again, ἀναστρέψας πάλιν (333).?5 At the beginning of the catalogue speech, the Queen asked a dual question (296-298), “Who has not died, and whom shall we mourn?"

2? The

two-fold

answer

must

be, of course,

that

Xerxes

is alive, but that many nobles are dead. The question toward which the Messenger next is to address himself is quite different, and it is almost wholly without relation to grief or to mourning. The sudden transition might raise questions about the Queen's psychological state: either the shift in her attention might show her public spirit and her concern for the state, or she might be revealed as unmaternal or unnatural in her lack of extended emotional reaction to news which demands mourning and grief.” This method of analysis is unlikely to be useful in approaching Aeschylean characters, as will be suggested in the following chapter; but it must be clear that, from a dramatic point of view, the focus

of attention has been drastically altered. πόσον τι ?? πλῆθος ἣν νεῶν ᾿λληνίδων ὥστ᾽ ἀξιῶσαι Περσικῷ στρατεύματι μάχην συνάψαι ναΐοισιν ἐμβολαῖς; (334-335) 25 Cf. DENNISTON,

51;

ἀτάρ is rare in Aeschylus

and

Sophocles

(three

appearances each), common in Euripides and Plato, and again rare in Thucydides and the orators. It is therefore colloquial in tone, and frequent in "those prose writers whose style approximates most closely to every-day conversation." "In particular Attic writers employ ἀτάρ to express a breakoff, a sudden change of topic. . .”’ (52) This sort of topic-changing is a feature of colloquial style, since it suggests the spontaneity of natural thought

processes. 26 On the second opening as a characteristic of ancient poetry,

cf. W.

Jens, Die Stichomythie in der frühen griechischen Tragödie (Zetemata 11, 1955) 4; and comments on paratactic style in Ch. II.1. 27 Cf. the comments of HOLTSMARK (102) on the programmatic nature of this question. That does not diminish its psychological force. 28 The poet, however, has revealed her deep concern for Xerxes in her

formulations at 169-170, in the long speech, and above all at 298 (cf. the previous remarks

note),

a delicate

of ALBINI,

psychological

touch.

Cf.

II.4,

below,

and

the

261ff.

29 πόσον ti: the conjecture of Turnebus is confirmed by a parallel in Eur.

τοῦ

THE RHESEIS

What the Queen wants to know is a piece of tactical information. It is, in fact, one of the first questions that would occur to an

analytic

thinker

whose

involvement

in the

disaster

itself was

minimal: "How many Greeks took part in the battle? Was a preponderance of numbers the reason that they chose to join battle with the Persian host ?” Such questions are not likely to occur immediately to people intimately involved in an event. The information those directly affected seek is more likely to include such things as the fate of individuals (already dealt with in the first speech), the general outline of the event, an idea of its extent and meaning for the future, and some notion of what action can be taken to salvage something from the ruin. These are, in fact, the primary concerns the Persians express elsewhere; the latter two motivate the eventual summoning of the Ghost of Dareios, as a further source of information and counsel.

Details about

the relative size of the two fleets,

or strategic considerations that may have encouraged either side to

begin

battle,

are

of

less

immediate

interest

because,

in

the

aftermath of the defeat, they have lost significance. Questions of fact and motivation usually come up when an attempt is made to sum up the causes of the event, to put it together in a coherent way and to see the logical connections in its details—the task in later times of the historian. Since it prefaces such a reversal in the direction of the scene, the syntactic break created by the unusual particle ἀτάρ is amply justified: the emotional tone of the first portion must to some extent be set aside, in order for new and more objective reporting to take its place. The Messenger replies in detail and gives the exact

accounts

of both

the Hellenic

and

barbarian

fleets, divided

into regular and special (fast) squadrons. The command to "explain —qo&cov" is repeated in 350 (after a short interchange on Athens): the Messenger is next to tell the ἀρχή of the battle. This is echoed (351) τίνες κατῆρξαν, and repeated by the Messenger in 353, ἦρξεν μὲν... He does indeed “turn back again" to the very first part in the sequence of actions that created the disaster and to questions that had been jumped over in the first, more personal view of the Herakleidai 668, πόσον τι πλῆθος συμμάχων πάρεστ᾽ ἔχων; PAGE’s and BROADHEAD’s

choice,

τοσόνδε,

is emotional

rather

than

factual;

cf.

the

preceding

line (φράσον) and the parallel at 352, where φράσον is followed immediately by the interrogative, tivec.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

IOO

event. The content of the Messenger's news that speaks directly and naturally to Persian psychology has been effectively expressed by the catalogue speech. What follows is a lengthy narrative, beginning on a factual basis from the efficient cause, and placing

emphasis upon a rather rigid time sequence. The division between emotive and factual material, maintained by the tetrametertrimeter split in the first scene, is in this scene created by the stylistic contrast of catalogue and narrative. The long narrative of the battle is elaborately structured, using, among other devices, a complex of images that associate the Persian reversal of expectations with the reversal of dark and night into bright day. Since the deception of the Persians lasts through a long night, and is ended with the following dawn, a natural metaphor fits the time sequence of the speech to the events. This image originates in the Queen's trochaic speech and plays a part in the contrast between Xerxes and his people, his survival being equated with "day out of night" just at the opening of the catalogue of the slain. Within the long Salamis speech itself, however, the transit from day to night becomes a symbol for the change in which the Persians are undeceived about the relation between themselves and the people they intended to crush. The scene before the battle is set at some length, representing a high point of Persian expectation and confidence. Xerxes, deceived by the Greek messenger into a false complacency, has stationed troops at the openings of the bay to prevent escape. For failure the punishment is a humiliating death. To Xerxes' overwhelming authority naturally corresponds the slavish obedience

of his troops, who move to obey, οὐκ ἀκόσμως ἀλλὰ πειθάρχῳ φρενί (374). Ihe barbarians follow established plans and observe strict discipline, “They sail as each was assigned—tetaypévoc”’ (381). The good order of the Persians and their confidence correspond to a period of deception that lasts through the long night before the battle and ends with the dawn. The passage in 357-385, which describes the night, uses elaborate techniques of repetition and ring-composition. Here is the antithesis to the catalogue speeches: a carefully delineated sequence of events

1s followed,

and

tension

1s maintained

until

dawn

and

its

reversal. The technique, however, is not dissimilar. The separate 30 Cf. Ch. II.2, above. On the ironic reversal, cf. PETROUNIAS,

27.

IIO

THE

RHESEIS

segments of the narrative, as well as the passage of time itself, are defined through a series of repetitions. Where a hypotactic style would probably prefer progressively changing time references (e.g. “now it was half-way through the night... now the Pleiades set... now the sky began to grow light," etc.), in the Aeschylean passage the opposition between day and night simply recurs at intervals.?! A cluster of themes—the supposed escape of the Greeks, the deceit of the gods, and the day-night opposition—recur at three key points in the narrative: in the false message (357-361), Xerxes’ orders (364-373), and the moment of reversal at dawn (385-386). The passage of the long night of ἀπάτη and false confidence is marked by an even more elaborate scheme of verbal echoes woven back and forth from line to line. There are chiming jingles (καὶ νὺξ ἐπήει 378, ἐς ναῦν ἐχώρει 379, καὶ νὺξ ἐχώρει 384),?? word-plays on τάξις [τάσσω and πλόον [πλέω,33 and a lavish over-use of certain rather simple and obvious words and their compounds (e.g.

πᾶς,

ναῦς,

νύξ),

all within

the

eleven

or so lines

describing

Persian night maneuvers (375-385 ).°4 This second class of repetitions is not used to mark off segments and 15 so trivial and pervasive as to lack any thematic significance. The result is a strong emphasis on sequence. Time expressions referring to the sun’s rays (377 and 386) form a double ring, enclosing references to the progress of the night (378 and 384),*° and focusing further attention on the other, non-thematic repetitions that bind the events of the night together internally from line to line. The tension before the change-over, and the progressive 31 References to night and day: 357, 364-365, For this theme in the play, cf. PETROUNIAS, 26-27.

377-378,

384,

386-387.

3? All three phrases head their lines. The first two are not parallel; but the second halves of the verses are (πᾶς ἀνὴρ κώπης ἄναξ... πᾶς θ᾽ ὅπλων ἐπιστάτης), and this draws them together. (378-379) 33

ΤΑΞΙΣ δὲ TASIN παρεκάλει νεὼς μακρᾶς ΠΛΕΟΥΣΙ δ᾽ ὡς ἕκαστος ἦν TETAI'MENOX. καὶ πάννυχοι δὴ ΔΙΑΠΛΟΟΝ καθίστασαν

ναῶν ἄνακτες πάντα ναυτικὸν λεών. cf. κρυφαῖον EKITAOYN (385). 84 For πᾶς (4 times, and cf. 387)

(380-383)

and ναῦς

(5 times),

cf. 382-383

quoted

in the previous note, where jingling repetition draws attention to the words. 35 φέγγος... χατέφθιτο (377)... εὐφέγγης ἰδεῖν (387)... καὶ νὺξ ἐπήει (378)... καὶ νὺξ ἐχώρει (384). The last is ambivalent; it means either “‘progress’’ or "give way, retreat.’’ For émyet, cf. the common idiom for the next day,

y ᾿᾽πιοῦσα.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

III

time sequence extending throughout the night are expressed with such an elaborate and florid use of traditional poetic technique, because the poet is working at a rather unaccustomed task. The paratactic style which Aeschylus commanded excels at building upon or expanding an original situation, either through restatement or elaboration. The Perszans itself, with its progressive elaboration of themes derived from the parodos, is one of the purest examples of this style. Paratactic style works through patterns which lead to expectations of symmetrical, though by no means stereotypical, resolutions. Dealing with a reversal that is not anticipated in the narrative, on the other hand, requires a subordination of the richness of this style to the demands of the time sequence. The speech achieves the effect of reversal through paratactic means, by using reversal as a theme, building the speech around the most traditional pattern of change, the alternation of night and day.?6 As the day dawns, the characteristics of Persian and Greek are reversed. The confident, orderly Asian fleet, disappointed in their expectations of fear and flight in the enemy, are themselves routed. The Greeks, on the other hand, now seem orderly:

τὸ δεξιὸν μὲν πρῶτον εὐτάκτως κέρας ἡγεῖτο κόσμῳ... (399-400) The disorder of the Persians is expressed not only in descriptions of their alarm and fear, but in the very style of the narration itself. The same device of repetition occurs; but the over-order of the preliminaries,

with

their

almost

tedious

attention

to

sequence,

is absent. Instead, each stage in the battle is described in terms that tend to identify it with the previous stage, as one shock succeeds the next. The Persians, at the rising of the sun, are assaulted with sound.

The paian echoes off the rocks and fills them with panic, γνώμης ἀποσφαλεῖσιν. Next the trumpet “set everything ablaze’ (395), and they hear the sound of the oars striking the water with a rushing sound, in response to the shouts of the boatswain—éx χελεύματος (396-397 ).°° Finally there are the war-cries of the Greeks, 36 Cf. Aias 670-676, where the alternation of seasons and days is a metaphor for other change; also essential is the notion of the human as an ἐφήμερος, for whom the alternation is potentially the difference between triumph and destruction. 37 ἐπέφλεγεν is a strong metaphor for trimeter; it is more at home in lyric,

cf. Pindar N. 6.38, ἑσπέριος ὁμάδῳ φλέγεν. It unites light and sound imagery, accomplishing the transfer to the actual scene of battle. Cf. PETROUNIAS, 27.

112

THE

RHESEIS

and the answering ῥόθος of the barbarians, with their many tongues. The aural assault is succeeded by violent and repeated collisions: the repetitions of matw and θραύω throng fast throughout the following lines. First Persian and Greek ships collide (409), and

next the Persians strike each other in the narrows

(416); finally

the same words reappear in the slaughter of the barbarians, who are beaten to death with oars in the water (426). The narrative of the long speech ends with a return to the theme of the time-scheme—and of numbers—: ‘Never on one day has so great a number of human beings died" (432). The story of the battle, however, is not yet complete at that point. Two ideas laid down at the beginning seem to have been forgotten: a proper attention to ring-form style requires a return to Xerxes and to the men he had stationed to guard the island (368-371). Both are saved for a second speech of much more modest length, devoted to the massacre on Psyttaleia. Stylistic reasons for the break at 432 are not difficult to find; 1f one imagines the two speeches combined without a break, several problems present themselves. The elaborate attention to time sequence in the first part of the long speech has resulted in a tight, cogent, and climactic narrative, although one of greatly extended length. To break off this sequence for a return to the picked force on the island would have the effect of unbalancing the long speech, as well as lengthening it excessively, while making the disaster of Psyttaleia seem a mere codicil to the sea battle—as from a historical viewpoint it certainly was. The separation of the Psyttaleia incident from the central battle preserves the powerful effect of the general defeat, and helps to make a minor engagement seem comparable in importance to the battle itself. Lines 433-446 are designed to build up the minor disaster by explicitly balancing it against the sea battle proper: metaphors of balance and midpoint are several times repeated.*8 From the Persian side of the play, the second incident is of climactic importance, because it is the loss of invaluable men that is most keenly felt throughout.? With this shift to a more specifically Persian concern, the second speech departs shghtly from the impersonality of the Salamis narrative; but in theme the two speeches are virtually one, with the references to brutal butchery 38 μηδέπω μεσοῦν κακόν (435)... ῥέπουσαν εἰς τὰ μάσσονα (440). 39

Cf. the theme

of πλῆθος,

ἢ.

δὶς

ἀντισηκῶσαι

12, above.

ῥοπῇ

(437)

.. «κακῶν

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

113

and disorderly flight echoing themes established in the first speech.” This lengthy, heavily structured narrative of the battle of Salamis is the dramatic center of the Persians. The effect of the separate catalogue of the dead, and the postponing of Xerxes and Psyttaleia to a second speech, is to encapsulate the main narrative and to leave it as cold and objective, and as remote from parochial Persian concerns as is possible—given the essentially non-Greek viewpoint of the play. By these devices, the rhesis becomes almost a mirror of history, a record of Salamis, unclouded by the dramatic situation of the play. The result is a powerfully constructed speech that indicates how pure narrative can create a theatric effect that only partially depends upon dramatic illusion. After the Psyttaleia speech, the Queen devotes six lines to lamentation, and some interpretation of the event: Xerxes has brought a greater disaster upon himself by attempting to revenge the loss at Marathon. Her last two lines request more information and elicit from the Messenger his fourth speech. She asks about the ships, and where the Messenger left them. It would seem that such a lead ought to produce a speech describing the further misadventures of the fleet. Instead the Messenger devotes two lines to the navy, and then turns to the land army’s retreat—in a speech of thirty-two lines. The inconsequence is striking, and has led to suspicions of the text; *! but the motivation for this apparent veering of interest is probably the same tendency in paratactic style observable elsewhere in the play. Material is often recapitulated just at a point of transition, when it is being dropped for something else.42 At

this point

in the second

episode,

attention

turns some-

what away from the sea and the ships that dominated at Salamis: the long march overland and the battle at Plataia, prophesied by the Ghost, cannot make use of sea themes. The ships are brought up only to make the weaker member in an antithesis. The fourth speech is a geographical excursus that, like the beacon speech in the Agamemnon, sweeps over a long range of territory in sequence. The lack of pathos and the wealth of 40 Butchery: παίουσι κρεοκοποῦσι (463), cf. especially 426 and the comparison to fish. Disorder and flight: &xoouoc and puyn appear in both 423

and 470. 41 Cf. BROADHEAD, liv. 42 Cf. the treatment of πλῆθος in the last scene

(Ch. II.2, above),

and the

mention of oracles in Dareios' opening to his last speech (Ch. II.4, below). 43 These verbal journeys have a long history, from the travel epics of

114

THE

RHESEIS

apparently inconsequential material in the last speech has been criticized.** In fact, it is the pathos and horror of the second half of the speech (495-507) that is inconsequential to the progress of the catalogue. The orderly geographical sequence, at any rate, is disturbed at that point by the description of a portentous disaster; and the climactic position of the march on the frozen river involves a minor disarrangement in the geographical sequence. Mt.

Pangaion,

and

the

Edonian

territory,

which

are

mentioned

first, seem to take the army beyond the Strymon (494-495), yet in the next line we learn that “in the night" the—still-uncrossed— Strymon froze over. As is usual in this style, the poet finishes one thing before he proceeds with another. The whole journey as far as Thrace 1s marked off before the climactic section on the Strymon, and the remainder of the trip is telescoped into a short coda at the end (508-510). The strange event on the Strymon is chosen, as arethe descriptions of Persian deaths in the first catalogue speech, for exotic and striking effect, since a solidly frozen river was in Greek terms a strange and marvelous event. In a purely narrative format, the description of the Persians’ march home and their experience would have been quite different. First, less attention would have been paid to the geographical way-stations; and these would have become, like the changes of night and day in the former speech, merely chronological signposts to parallel the increasingly desperate

situation of the troops. The speech would naturally build up to a horrific peak of misery, with the disaster in the river used as a climax—or even omitted altogether, if the pathos of starvation were impressive enough. The purpose of rewriting Aeschylean speeches in this way is not, of course, to suggest their inadequacies, the dim Aristeas to the Ionian logographers. They may have dominated other Aeschylean plays as they do the Prometheus, and apparently did

Sophocles’ early Triptolemos, e.g. Tv.G.F., F. 598 = Dion. Hal, Ant. Rom. 1.12.1. For a similar style in epic, cf. the Hesiodic wanderings of Phineus, I50-157 M-W. For this style in Aeschylus, cf. W. A. A. Van Otterlo, Be-

schowwingen over het archaische element in den stijl van Aeschylus (Utrecht,

1937) 47. 44 Cf.

the

remarks

of

RoUSSEL,

who

becomes

denunciatory

(207):

“1

fallait énumérer, plus que de noms de pays, de calamités: la soif et la faim, sans doute, mais aussi... [there follows a list of potential topics omitted by Aeschylus]... Le récit d'Eschyle manque de vie, de pathétique, et, en somme,

d'art."

45 Cf. Herodot. 4.28 on the cold of Scythia and the frozen rivers.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

II5

but to get a clearer idea of what about this speech diverges from normal narrative form and why the impression it creates is not only different, but designed to be different. Like the other catalogues, the speech is ornamental and amplificatory. Even ın the narrative speeches on Salamis, this style dominates; in a speech of catalogue form, it has free play. Hunger and thirst are thus merely repeated as the territories between Thrace and Attica are enumerated. The piquancy and peculiarity of the river disaster adds another theme, overlying the main one of the military disaster, and without logical connection to it. In a paratactic manner, the river episode is grafted on, a miniature reproduction of the preceding form. The situation is rich in echoes of major themes: the dangers of bridging gulfs, particularly in an unnatural way; ** the temptations and vengeance of god; and even the rise of the sun as a source of death and confusion. As always, the Schadenfreude of the Greek view is the underside of the Persian tragedy: that the unnatural and monstrous army should suffer a monstrous catastrophe is a reassertion of the natural order of things, and a proof of divine concern. That the gods have been flouted by the Persians has been hinted in lyric, but a direct treatment of the theme of impiety is reserved for the last scene. The bizarrerie of the event echoes the tone, macabre and mocking, yet intensely pathetic, of the opening catalogue speech.*’ The sequence of four speeches 15 now complete. Two catalogues, both

exotic

and

ornate,

set off the more

austere

narrative in the

center. Even the narrative itself is structured to provide a double ending. The first half stops at the end of the battle; the second, at the flight of Xerxes. The effect 1s to increase the refinement of the play's historical view to the greatest possible degree, using the barbarian situation of the play to gain needed objectivity and freedom from the ethical taboos of q06voc,* but setting the Persian

situation aside where it might cramp the narrative. The theme of reversal is especially fruitful since the obverse of the secure night 46 Cf. the discussion of πόρος and μηχανή in II.2 above, and note the bizarre meter of 501, with its lack of caesura and galloping close, suggesting the collapse of an unnatural “‘bridge.’’ 47 See note r9, above. 48 For the Greeks themselves to gloat over dying enemies would be inappropriate in the fifth century; but such grisly details ave fitting in the mouths of mourners, cf. the speech of Hekabe, Tvo. 1173-1179. For references to mutilation

and

outrage

in dirges,

cf. W.

Schadewaldt

in Aischylos’ Choephoren,"' Hermes 67 (1932) 343-344.

in

“Der

Kommos

116

THE RHESEIS

and dreadful day of the Persians is the correct image—the night fear of the Greeks and their daylight triumph at Salamis.4? The next major trimeter speech falls outside the three episodic scenes that follow the entrances of each of the three major personae of the play. This rhesis marks the return of the Queen after her first exit, to obtain sacrificial materials for the lower gods. The speech is wedged between the first and second stasima; * there is a great concentration of lyric in this part of the play, and a single twenty-five line speech seems less like a separate scene enclosed in lyric than it does a barely adequate transition from the ode of mourning that follows the exit of Queen and Messenger to the necromantic song that will evoke Dareios. The bland content of the speech confirms this impression. One would expect explanations and plans relating to the coming of the Ghost, but there are none; and it is hard to find any concrete, logical center for the speech at all. Its form is that of the ornamental cadenza, the catalogue again. À long introductory sentence, even more formal than that which opened the Queen's rhesis in the first scene,?! explains the manner of the entrance as appropriate to the fearful and agitated state of the Queen, ending with an explanation of her purpose: Therefore I have taken this path without my chariot and my former luxury, back from my house again, bringing to my son's father propitious libations, things which are appeasing to the dead—&rzep vexpotot μειλυκτήρια. (607-610) Appended to this statement is an eight line list of articles—presumably brought on by a procession of servants—that will be used in the sacrifices. The articles are described in particularly ornate language, with several kennings adding stature to everyday things 49 For reversal as a tragic theme,

(Vienna

& Leipzig,

PETROUNIAS, 7. 30 597-622. 51 Cf. n. 7, above.

1930)

19;

on

cf. E. Howald,

reversal

Die griechische

as a

stylistic

Tvagódie

technique,

Such openings are singularly rare in Aeschylus.

I can

compare only Eteokles' opening speech in the Seven. Often a long speech opens with a prooemion so lengthy as to constitute a separate and weighty segment of the speech, e.g. Ag. 810-829, or 636-649. Most openings, however,

are of three lines or less; and some are of a singular abruptness, e.g. Ag. 281ff. Ἥφαιστος, ἤϊδης λαμπρὸν ἐκπέμπων σέλας (This, the last line in a stichomythy, also introduces a long rhesis on the beacon series.), 551ff. εὖ γὰρ πέπραχται, L.B. 554 ἁπλοῦς ὁ μῦθος. Some speeches simply begin a narrative without preamble, e.g. Pe. 447ff., 480ff. or L.B. 674ff., 7341f.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

II7

like wine and oil. The last four lines of the speech contain the only concrete information it offers: the Queen gives the chorus the charge of summoning up the daimon of Dareios, while she attends to the ritual of divine sacrifice.?? But to say that this command is the real burden of the speech is to say that the speech has no center and serves largely as an introduction to the second stasimon, which it precedes and motivates. In tandem with the lyric, this speech forms—as do prologue and parodos—a double introduction to a scene that follows the lyric.?? Of all the catalogue speeches, it has the slightest substance and the briefest content. The function of the speech, as for the other catalogues, is to provide a transition to something else. The final episode opens with a short trimeter rhesis, as did the second; but the meter shifts to tetrameter for a long dialogue between the Ghost and the Queen. In this dialogue several themes begun in the parodos and carried through the other episodes covertly by metaphor and imagery now make their way into the discursive part of the play. Xerxes himself is also discussed in greater detail than anywhere else. At closer range, his action takes on a rather persuasive cast: his mother suggests that evil companions may have led her son astray by playing on his natural ambition to emulate Dareios (753-758). But no time is allotted to let this suggestion develop; instead, the Ghost gives an abrupt new turn to the scene, as he moves from tetrameter back into a long trimeter rhesis of twenty-seven lines, in the catalogue style. The change of meters parallels a change of interest and tone for the Ghost: in the

rest

of the

scene,

Dareios

asks

no

more

questions.

He

has

himself become informant rather than questioner. The rhesis that marks the break into iambic is, like the catalogue of the dead in the Messenger's scene, an introduction to another, longer speech with more narrative content. The speech has a powerful six line opening (759-764) whose formality and length makes the break with the previous part of the scene even more emphatic: 52 619-622, ἀλλ᾽, ὦ qot. ... 53 Cf. WILAMOWITZ's formulation, 51: the new beginning introduces a second drama in miniature; cf. J. G. Droysen, “Aischylos, Phrynichos, und die Trilogie," in Kleine Schriften zur altem Geschichte (Leipzig, 1894) 2.80.

54 The effect of these references is discussed in the next chapter. They raise many

echoes

and

are tantalizingly

allusive;

but the most

significant

point to be made is that the echoes and allusions never receive any development in the play itself.

118

THE RHESEIS

τοίγαρ σφιν ἔργον ἐστὶν ἐξειργασμένον μέγιστον, ἀείμνηστον... .99 The thought in the opening furnishes the motive power for the whole piece: no king of the Medo-Persian empire has ever caused so great a disaster. The mention of the empire: “From the time when Zeus the ruler granted this honor /for one man over all flock-pasturing Asia / to rule with scepter of governance," leads directly to the listing of the rulers in chronological sequence. A short summation (782-786) restates the same proposition as the opening, in classic ringform style. The speech is thus monotone and simple in design. The catalogue shows the strains of adapting history to an uncongenial moral theme, namely that Xerxes, in undertaking an aggressive and overreaching policy, forms a contrast to the whole series of his predecessors.9$ The introductory period, with its six line sweep, helps to lend force to a rather uneven series. Kyros is given a suitably lavish five line treatment, but the list cannot continue in an even pattern, since it is broken up by Kambyses and Smerdis (Mardos), who cannot be said to have been εὔφρονες at all?" Dareios own former aggressive designs against Greece cannot be ignored in such a direct context. The Ghost admits κἀπεστράτευσα πολλά, but argues that he did not bring so great, τοσόνδε, an evil upon the state. As a result, the second formulation at the end of the speech—the OED of the ring style—is considerably weakened. It merely repeats the earlier line (781) about Dareios: “All of us who held this power will not be shown to have created so many (τόσα) misfortunes” (785-786). 55 Τοίγαρ rarely introduces a rhesis, because it tends to bind what follows closely to what preceded. It may introduce a major subsection of a rhesis as a consequence of previous argument (Pe. 607, 813). It often has a vindictive

tone (as here, cf. L.B. 894, Med. 622, O.C. 1370). It is a most abrupt opening for a long speech.

Cf. DENNISTON,

565, for the strong consecutive

this particle. For the break, cf. STÓSSL,

154:

sense of

''...ein neuer Teil beginnt,

scharf von dem bisherigen abgehoben.”’ 56 Given the careers of Kyros, and above all of Kambyses, it was easier for Herodotos to take the other way, by suggesting a hereditary tendency for overreaching and by arranging the Massagetan and Scythian expeditions

to parallel and anticipate Xerxes' invasion of Greece. $7 [t seems pointless to transpose 767, thus lavishing extra praise on Kyros (cf. 772). At least two praiseworthy kings at the opening help to carry their rather disappointing succession. That Kyros was himself an usurper must also be finessed.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

IIO

The whole body of the speech fails to develop the idea of the opening any further, except to introduce some slight qualifications; and the speech proper functions as an ornamental excursus to the idea first stated. This lack of development is typical of those speeches which assume catalogue form in the play, as it is characteristic of catalogues that they can be expanded, treated more briefly, or

even

eliminated,

as

the

occasion

demands.

In

the

Persians,

the special function of catalogue speeches seems to be that of preceding or ending an important narrative; such speeches structurally form a kind of punctuation to the drama. The catalogue of kings is not, of course, solely an ornament, even though it lacks the psychological motivation that supported the Messenger's catalogue of Persian dead. A historical summary holds no special appeal for the actors on stage, who have expected to get counsel and comfort from the apparition of Dareios. In this speech, as in the dialogue about the numbers of Xerxes' ships, the lens of the play widens; beyond the present, there are the generations of kings in whose series Xerxes is the last, and Dareios the last worthy representative. In both cases, we are reminded that the theme and viewpoint of the play is broader, less immediate, and more abstract than that of most dramas. The list 1s representative of Dareios' nature (since the Ghost is himself now a part of history), of Xerxes' place in the dynasty, and of the gravity of the situation for the empire. It is evident that the chorus is disappointed at the turn the Ghost's words have taken in this first trimeter speech. They do not themselves yet grasp the meaning of the list of kings, and they sense

that the speech has not yet received its peroration. Iloi καταστρέφεις —'"Whither do you turn the ending of your speech?" they ask (787-788).9 The Persians still wait for the Ghost to fulfill the role of advisor for which he was summoned, and they remind him of what he was to tell them: πῶς ἂν EX τούτων ETL e »y Y ^. πράσσοιμεν ὡς ἄριστα ILepotxóg λεώς; !

58 The collocation of χαταστρέφεις with λόγων τελευτὴν forces upon us the idea of ‘‘bring to a close" as well as the more obvious one of ‘‘direct.”’ Rhetoric

pointed

had

ending

not yet acquired

is common

its formal terminology,

both to speeches

but the use of the

and to the rhesis.

For the

meaning, cf. Suppl. 442, καταστροφή; to the chorus the speech seems like an opening without a close.

120

THE

RHESEIS

The Elders begin this dialogue by breaking in with a colloquial

abruptness striking in its lack of elevation: ti οὖν, ἄναξ Aapete.°? The chorus, or their leader, has not spoken since the epirrhema with which they greeted the Ghost (702); they have not engaged in any dialogue or exchange of information since the first scene, five hundred and thirty-nine lines before. Though at the beginning of the scene the Elders were too timid to speak to the old king, they now reenter the dialogue in this informal fashion, replacing the Queen as interlocutor. The note of impatience in the words of the chorus has no relevance to their own attitude, already described by themselves as one of extreme reverence for the Ghost.‘ The line reflects instead the alienating effect of the catalogue and its tangential relation to Persian aims. The clash between the narrative purity of the long trimeter speech and the dramatic continuity is thrust a bit forward at this moment, as 1t was earlier in the Messenger scene. But the gap does not narrow. The Ghost's final speech retreats even further from Persian viewpoints; the specter seems to cast free of the last ties binding him to his people and to become vehicle of divine judgment, as the Messenger himself was the vehicle of a historical event. The last long rhesis, the fourth of the major speeches, has a different quality from the central speeches in the other episodes. The vivid, circumstantial narrative of the previous pieces is absent. Plataia

as a historical

event

never

takes

shape;

there

is no hint

of battle strategy or a sequence of happenings. Instead, other elements, especially the gnomic or moralistic interpretation of the tragic event, are stressed; the Ghost explains the meaning of Plataia,

the

the lesson to not appear, the scene of treatment of

provocations

to divine

justice

that

preceded

it, and

be drawn from it. While the details of the battle do the location is given in some detail (805-806), as is the battle field after the defeat (816-819). By this Plataia, the sea battle is kept in the more vivid light,

59 Cf. BROADHEAD,

198, on the inappropriate tone and the effect of the

hiatus. The moment is similar to that at 333,where another colloquial touch is used to signal a coming change in the formal structure of the scene, from mourning to historical objectivity. 60 694 etc. As a general rule, we must respect what characters tell us about themselves, unless we are given strong and overt reasons for dis-

believing it. When the Queen states that she is anxious (598ff.) her statement carries weight as a contribution to character portrayal; her seemingly cool behavior at 333ff. is not noticed by the messenger and is sufficiently motivated by its formal significance, cf. Ch. II.4, below.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

121

while the land battle is seen not from the perspective of the eye witness but from the viewpoint of posterity, marvelling at the site of the battle and the heaps of corpses. Through this distancing lens the more remote Plataia becomes a kind of crowning misfortune, exemplifying the whole tragic experience of the Persians. The disaster at Plataia is not attributed directly to Xerxes’ folly, or to the use of oversized armies or fleets. Instead, a new theme of sacrilege is introduced rather abruptly and associated with the theme of ὕβρις, the extension on the moral plane of the theme of superabundance or πλῆθος. The burning of shrines, never hinted at in lyric, has almost no connections to the rest of the play, with the single exception of the vague references to Persian habits of impiety in the river disaster (502ff.). The use of this theme in the Persians parallels that in the Agamemnon, a play with many resemblances to its predecessor.9! In both plays, the question of sacrilege receives a somewhat glancing treatment. In the Agamemnon, after Klytaimestra’s explicit warning, the Herald’s actual announcement that shrines have been destroyed is passed over without comment by queen and chorus. In both plays, sacrilege is not a major theme because the crime is implicit in wars of conquest and because the violation of holy places proceeds with some inevitability from the original decisions of Agamemnon and of Xerxes.9? In Xerxes’ case, the king is not associated with such direct impiety, since the play mentions these acts only after his departure has been brought in. But Xerxes’ arrogance at the Hellespont and at Salamis is clearly the correlative to and a precondition for the acts of sacrilege committed by the army.

Like the other major speeches, the last rhesis is structured around key metaphors. But because the speech is not really the narrative of an action, it lacks the transparency and driving force of the others. Its organization is complex and somewhat opaque. The earth metaphors emerge in fleeting and vague series, which become concrete only at the mid-point of the speech (821-822). Running

in

parallel

is a moral

argument

which

establishes

the

inexorable connection between sin and punishment. This moral structure 1s simpler and more logically coherent; but neither theme 61 Cf. II.r, above. 62 Cf. Ag. 460ff. and

472ff.; the chorus’

reaction to the warnings

of the

queen is that one had better avoid being a πτολιπόρθης altogether. Cf. also Poseidon in the Troades 95ff.

122

THE

RHESEIS

is presented wholly through the antithetical and recapitulatory style common to most tragic rheseis, and present in other trimeter speeches in the Perszans. The speech begins with a lavish description of the rich Boeotian plain, a first note to the series of fertility images sprinkled through the speech. This place is to witness Persia's worst disaster, a “recompense for ὕβρις and godless pride-of-thought, ἀθέων φρονημάTov." The statement is a programme for the moral structure of the speech. Sin—arrogance and sacrilege (809-812)—receives a proportionately severe punishment (814-816), namely the disaster at Plataia (816-820). The programme is now restated in the QED. of the ring style: ὡς οὐκ ὑπέρφευ θνητὸν ὄντα χρὴ φρονεῖν.

(820)

At this point, with the moral sequence apparently complete, the fertility metaphors become explicit in the powerful couplet (821-822) about the “harvest of ruin." ὕβρις γὰρ ἐξανθοῦσ᾽ ἐκάρπωσεν στάχυν ἄτης, ὅθεν πάγκλαυτον ἐξαμᾷ θέρος. 4

»

A

e

>

~

,

3»

3

/

/

3

~

/

These lines seem either to break the continuity of the moral theme of retribution, or to summarize its meaning in a different way. Such summaries often end Aeschylean rheseis; but the speech is not over.$?

The first part of the speech uses familiar techniques, in the building up of underlying metaphors and in the ringform repetition that inexorably connects crime to punishment. The metaphor of fertility, however, is not directly related to the idea of retribution

and ὕβρις, until the couplet on the "harvest of ruin" draws upon traditional associations of ὕβρις with plant imagery.9* Thereafter, the coherency of the ring style is abandoned, while the language of the important summarizing line 820 (ὑπέρφευ φρονεῖν) is simply repeated and reused in three separate and rather loosely connected formulations, each using references to excess (örep—) and (proud) thought (φρόνημα, φρονεῖν). First (823-826) there is a general warning that Persian experience with Greece proves one should not through conceit (ὑπερφρονήσας) risk present good fortune. Second (827-828), Zeus is identified as the source of divine punish63 On the coda, cf. Mannsperger, in JENS, 156. 64 Cf. the discussion of this imagery in Ch. II.2, above.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I23

ment for τῶν ὑπερκόμπων ἄγαν φρονημάτων. Finally, the chorus is urged to apply this advice to Xerxes himself: the king should come to his senses (σωφρονεῖν) and stop blaspheming in his arrogance, ὑπερκόμπῳ θράσει (829-831). After 820, each separate segment, including the couplet on the “harvest,” falls into the form of a pithy, gnomic statement. The subordinating and argumentative form common to many rheseis is absent. Each of the segments has the air of being a coda or summarizing statement of the type so often found at the close of Aeschylean rheseis. The slow, halting rhythm, as one “final’’ aphorism follows another, places a strong, even a distorting, emphasis on the validity of the Ghost’s message. This section creates a unique effect of being a general or universal statement. When, in other plays, Eteokles tells his ideas on statecraft, or Danaos advises his daughters on discreet behavior, it remains clear that the statements derive from a certain point of view, special to the situation and nature of the character.®° Even the smoother rhetoric of these and other rheseis preserves the sense of a particular speaker, who attempts to persuade and convince a particular audience. Dareios' tremendous maxims, presented baldly, seem impersonal and therefore valid. Such moments are much more common in tragic lyric than in the rhesis. Tetrameter and lyric, during most of the play, monopolize the interpretation of and reflection about dramatic events that are presented as brute fact in the trimeter speeches. The first tetrameter speech of the Queen, which precedes even the narration of the dream,

poses certain tantalizing questions that receive no answer

until the final scene, since the middle part of the play is devoid of interpretation, as it is of tetrameter. It is only after the Ghost's first trimeter speech that the division between fact and interpretation. breaks down; in the dialogue with the chorus (787ff.) the theme of excess, elsewhere developed only tacitly through persistent metaphors or factual references to Persian numbers, at last becomes a practical question of military strategy. The final speech continues to deal with moral issues and even 65 Eteokles' beliefs about the state are inseparable from Danaos' views on chastity motivate in some obscure way φυξανορία of his daughters. We are given no such opportunity views as proceeding from the nature and the limitations of On the views of M. Gagarin, cf. 11.4, below, n. 50.

his fate, while the αὐτογενὴς to see Dareios' his character.

124

THE

RHESEIS

takes them beyond the range of the rest of the play, so that the speech projects beyond and out of the drama to which it forms the climax, just as Dareios himself remains in a sense an addition to or excursus from the naturally tripartite shape of the play. When Xerxes appears for the final kommos, we hear nothing of sacrilege, although the passionate queries of the chorus are indeed rebukes to his folly. Xerxes, after all, knows nothing of Plataia and cannot be told about it in any effective way. His scene simply returns to the themes and moods of earlier moments. Having taken over from the tetrameter the function of interpretation of moral themes, the last speech also seems to adopt something of tetrameter style, as it ends with a series of static gnomic utterances, while retaining the native coldness and objectivity of the trimeter. In these moments

Dareios unites narration and reflection, elsewhere

in the play kept strictly separate, just as he has absorbed the image-making and prophetic powers which at the play’s opening had been the lyric prerogative of the chorus. The ending of the last scene is less stately than its opening. The long speech concludes with a neatly partitioned three-fold address in typical rhesis style, as the Ghost gives advice to the Queen,

declares his own

intended

departure,

and

bids the chorus

good-bye.® The effect is to foreclose dialogue and to collapse the end of the scene. A couplet by the chorus and the Queen’s short exit speech complete the whole. The lyric that follows is in fact the final complement to the appearance of Dareios. The catalogue form of the third stasimon is extraordinary, since orderly lists are alien to lyric.8" In the play itself, the catalogue form, after beginning in anapaests, was appropriated by the trimeter and became a prominent part of the lineverse

scenes.

In

function,

this

last

catalogue

resembles

the

catalogue speeches. In each of the last two episodes a catalogue of persons introduces the major speech, while a catalogue of places closes it off. This lyric list of Persian possessions frames the Plataia speech by grouping places in relation to water and thus balancing the preceding earth themes, as the Messenger's catalogue speech about the land march sets off the naval disaster at Salamis. The

first catalogue derived its themes and form from the anapaestic 86 Cf.

NESTLE,

Str.,

on

a similar

"dialogisierte Rhesis.” (35). 6? Cf. I.1, above, text and n. 39.

speech

in the

Seven;

he

calls the

device

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I25

opening to the lyric, while the last is itself a lyric that derives its theme and form from the trimeter speeches. In assuming such a function, the lyric portion of the play discards its last traces of independence from the world of the lineverse and completes the telescoping of form that began in the last speech of the Ghost. The play as a whole centers on its three trimeter messages. As each news-bringer is introduced, each in turn dominates the scene; and the performance of each is dominated by the long speech. The narrative rheseis are variously distinguished from their surroundings. To the catalogue speeches, marking off with macabre decoration the Salamis narrative, correspond the shifts of meter in the

other

scenes,

from

tetrameter

to trimeter.

The

last scene

uses two means of marking off the opening of the final speech, both a shift from tetrameter to trimeter, and a trimeter catalogue speech. But the shift of mood occurs at the metrical divide. Unlike the Messenger, whose first catalogue is attuned to Persian emotive response, the Ghost moves away from his Persian interlocutors as soon as he shifts out of the tetrameter. At two points in the play at which tetrameter gives way to trimeter, the rhesis is given a long and elaborate opening. Such separable introductions, though common in Euripides, are relatively rare in Aeschylus; in the Persians they are used to underline a metrical break.®8 The other formal, separable introduction to a rhesis is that in the Queen's catalogue speech, which directly follows lyric rather than tetrameter. At several points in the play our attention is called to the special quality of the rhesis. In the first

scene,

the

Queen's

introduction

emphasizes

the

contrast

between taking counsel and telling a story; in the second, the Messenger—advised by the Queen to “stand and speak’ at the opening of the scene—is told to “turn back again’ before his narrative rheseis and begin over in a more objective mode; in the third, the Ghost's inappropriately remote and abstract dynastic list puzzles the chorus and startles them into a protest. In each case, the narrative speeches are set off from their framing material by a greater objectivity and a consequent repression of native Persian concerns. The Persians presents a recurrent pattern of deluded hopes and the shock of disappointment, as knowledge makes a further 68 Cf. n. 51, above.

126

THE RHESEIS

increase. The way in which the messages are presented can be seen from one angle as a kind of ring-style or framelike construction, resembling that which sets off the narrative speeches. Supernatural messages—from dream, omen, ghost, and oracle—surround the factual, first-hand account of the battle at Salamis. This could

lead to the conclusion that the central scene of the Messenger is the most important in the play, and then to the further assumption that the play as a whole is a frame for a patriotic experience. But the Salamis scene, brilliant as it is, moves a little aside from the moral themes that dominate the rest of the drama; it is as much

excursus as center-piece. The series of messages form a progression of insight, incorporating widening views of what has happened to Xerxes and his people. From the dimmest and most unreliable guesses of mortals interpreting without sure knowledge, through word-of-mouth ἱστορία or reporting, we come at the end to an insight both profoundly moral and without human bias, which is in the best sense historical and which bursts the temporal constraints of the dramatic form. Through the mouth of Dareios there is pronounced a judgment whose divine severity goes far beyond the hopes of human beings to salvage good out of evil.

4. DRAMATIC

ART IN THE PERSIANS

The illusion of the theater, the mimic world created by dramatic fiction, has not yet achieved its full power in the early theater, where the tragic event is not so much enacted as it 1s displayed as a

subject for contemplation. The actors function in a more direct and naive fashion as presenters of the event to their dual audience— chorus and spectators. This style has left particularly clear traces in the simple and elegant dramaturgy of the Persians. Yet the Persians remains a drama: upon it, as upon all plays, the special conditions of impersonation and mimicked reality impose themselves. The understood pretense of the theater demands from the audience a keen awareness of the assumed sequence of actions taking place before them. Elements of the tragic play—the long rheseis, for instance, or the choral odes—can of course be enjoyed by spectators without complete comprehension. In lyric in fact we have seen that certain key passages appearing early in the play, can be understood only dimly and provisionally, until they are fully developed later. But neither rhesis nor lyric, nor stichomythy, constitute the specifically dramatic part of tragedy. The identity of an actor, or the motivation for his stage actions, on the other hand, are peculiar to drama. About such matters the

audience cannot ever be long in doubt; if confusion in these key matters does occur, the dramatic illusion will necessarily collapse, because the spectators cannot hold up their side.! Understanding of dramaturgical matters, particularly in the later drama, can usually derive directly from the mimic world of the drama. But in Aeschylean theater audience awareness is often reinforced by signals or significant verbal gestures indicating key moments that are hinges in the overtly-presented archaic structure.? ! On convention, cf. E. Handley, "Conventions of the Comic Stage and Their Exploitation by Menander," in Ménandre (Fondation Hardt, Entrétiens

16, 1969) 3-7.

2 In suggesting that there can be signals not mean to say that actors directly and from address the audience. Such illusion-breaking tragedy, cf. D. Bain, "Audience Address in 13-25. But there are many more subtle forms

from author to audience, I do within their dramatic personae behavior would be wrong for Greek Tragedy," CQ 25 (1975) of communication that remain

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Such signals are often placed appropriately at the borders of a scene, or are used to indicate changes in dramatic pace or rhythm within a scene. When the Queen instructs the Messenger how to tell his tale (333ff.), for instance, the attention of the audience is directed toward

the shift into a more

factual narrative,

a shift

somewhat at variance with natural behavior at a time of shock and grief. At other times the audience may be given hints as to the future development of the play. The more such hints emerge from and contrast with the psychology of the impersonated figures, the more significant they appear. When we hear the Queen describe Xerxes in distinctly un-Persian terms as “not accountable to the city, οὐχ ὑπεύθυνος πόλει,᾽᾿ our attention is directed to the absolute

nature of Xerxes’ rule. cannot be—and in this people. The fact that the increases its significance As QO. Taplin’s work

Unlike Hellenic military leaders, Xerxes play he will not be—repudiated by his Persians have no need for this information as a communication to us, the spectators. has made clear, exits and entrances are

crucial moments in dramatic structure; and, in a simply constructed

play, they may be the dramatic structure. Audience awareness is especially important at these points, since the identity or intent of an actor must

be made

clear at—or

even

before—the

entrance,

while an exit often marks the commencement of some significant action, which will be completed off stage. The major problems of dramaturgy in the Persians center on the entrances of both and the

exits of one of the two major figures in the play, the Queen and the Ghost of Dareios. The Queen leaves, returns, and leaves again. Dareios meets her in the last scene after a solemn and muchheralded entrance. The other stage figures have little effect on the play’s structure. The Messenger almost wholly disappears behind his message. Xerxes—so central to the theme of the play— open. TAPLIN, for instance (57, n. I) argues against the meaningful use of technical dramatic terms (such as e.g. rhesis, but cf. MICHELINI, 534ff.) and he even rejects political allusions on the same grounds (134). But the ambiguous position of drama between the real theater and the illusory stage world makes it entirely possible for a word or statement to have one meaning for the stage characters and another for the audience. On these

techniques, cf. T. F. van Laan,

The Idiom of Drama

(Ithaca, N.Y.,

1970)

I6; KORZENIEWSKI, 588; ALBINI, 257; CAPONE, 52; and P. Arnott, Greek Scenic Conventions (Oxford, 1962) 21. 3 Cf. TAPLIN, 37-38, on the "active" aspect of staging, i.e. the actions performed by actors themselves. On exits and entrances, cf. 54-55, and “Significant Actions in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,’? GRBS 12 (1971) 25. J

THE

AESTHETIC

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THE

PERSIANS

I20

is peripheral to its dramaturgy, since he arrives late, never speaks in lineverse, and meets no other actor.

The Ghost, the bearer of the culminating news of Persian disaster and the truest interpreter of the event, is, as we have seen, in some

sense an accretion on the play's simple form; and the choice of a

ghostly narrator is a bold dramatic innovation. The introduction of such a singular and crucial figure is performed with suitable ceremony.* Audience acceptance can be touchy for a supernatural figure, especially in an outdoor theater lacking special effects of lighting or perspective. A choral ode therefore precedes and accompanies the specter’s appearance, predicting quite precisely what the Ghost will be wearing and where he will emerge, to be viewed in all his exotic finery above the tomb itself. The play’s structure also enhances the importance of the entrance by arranging a gap between the Messenger's scene and the Ghost's appearance. Two lyric odes, as well as the Queen’s lengthy, prefatory catalogue speech, set off the final episode with that use of emphatic border markings typical of archaic style. The Ghost retires with less ceremony. His message once delivered, Dareios gives his last injunctions

and

sinks

back

into the lower

world;

indeed,

he had

warned of pressing time limits at his entrance. The Queen’s role is more sustained, and she provides most. of the connective tissue that holds the play together. A major part of her role is the performance of sacrifices, an occupation that eventually links her to the emergence of the Ghost. Her first reaction to the dream of the chariot was to perform sacrifices, and the portentous advice of the chorus leads only—to more sacrifices. It is to obtain materials for sacrifice that the Queen makes her first exit, and she returns to describe in the catalogue speech the offerings that she has brought. R. Stössl has suggested that the prominence of this motif and the way it is treated point to an inheritance, perhaps from the Phoinissai of Phrynichos.® His argument is the more persuasive since we know that the Persians was in some way derived from the earlier version of Phrynichos,® and since it is hard to see what besides the motifs of * Cf. the remarks of ALBINI, 258; and DAWE, 30.

5 The offers also grow out of a split between upper and lower gods, with Dareios appended to the second category. But later the Queen performs offerings to the upper gods in the palace, returning with the offerings for the lower gods (521-523). Cf. STÓSSL, 151. $ The source for the hypothesis, apparently Glaukos of Rhegion, is late

130

DRAMATIC

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sacrifice, and counsel to perform sacrifice, these plays should have had in common. The scheme of three entrances or messages, common to the Perstans and the Agamemnon, does not seem to fit into the Phoinissai, which opened with a eunuch ἀγγέλλων ἐν ἀρχῇ thy Ξέρξου ἧτταν. There was thus no place in the Phrynichan play for a sequence of foreboding and uncertainty, followed by realization. That sacrifices are not a fresh theme in the Persians is indicated by the way they are used to introduce something different, the necromantic summoning of the Ghost. The theme of counsel or advice-giving also seems to be more formal than efficacious. Sacrifices have already been mentioned before the chorus advises performing them; but then, too, the chorus had already determined

to discuss Xerxes’ fortunes before the Queen asked for their advice. It is not unlikely that in some prior version these themes might have had a more organic connection to the whole. Such a reuse of earlier materials which in the process are altered and reduplicated is another instance of the tendency for new forms to develop as a variation on older forms.’ The Phoinissat, since it was probably the sole direct dramatic predecessor for the Perstans, is a likely source for these reused and reworked themes. Far

from

mechanically

repeating

what

it

has

inherited,

the

Persians presents an improved version of the sacrifice theme. If we imagine a play that opened, as the Phoinissai did, with the news of defeat, we can see that the question that begins to exercise the Queen and the Chorus in the last part of the Perstans must have been an initial topic of discussion in the Phoinissai: namely, "What can be done to salvage the situation in this dire emergency ?”’ ? What then could have been the end result of counsel taken in the Phoinissai? In a play like the Suppliants, the debate of Pelasgos with the chorus, with himself, and with the people of Argos, leads to a decision with weighty consequences. But in the Phornissat, whether or not propitiatory sacrifices resulted from the taking of counsel, and whether or not a crowning piece of bad news was fifth century. Cf. SrÓssL, 148. The word used in the hypothesis, παραπεποιῆσθαι, seems to indicate a very close dependency on Phrynichos. 7 Cf. PAGE, 2.5. 8 Cf. I.r, above. ? This theme,

the search

for a remedy,

derives

from

the

hopefulness

that

the Queen—as well as the chorus—consistently displays. Cf. the discussion of character below.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

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I3I

delivered later in the play, in the end, the sacrifices and the counsel

must have been, as they are in the Persians, a sadly inadequate response to the enormous significance of the event. If the "action" taken in the Phorwnissat was the performance of sacrifices, it must be admitted that the sacrifices in the Persians,

which are suggested (though not performed) before the event is certain, make better practical and dramatic sense. After the event

is determined, of what use are sacrifices? That, of course, is precisely the point of the Persians’ treatment of this theme. Immediately after the Queen's dream, further the dreaded event. But her exit After the Messenger leaves, the intending to prepare sacrifices. inadequacy of their bland advice:

sacrifices are planned to ward off is forestalled by the Messenger. Queen completes her exit, still She rebukes the chorus for the

ὑμεῖς δὲ φαύλως αὔτ᾽ ἄγαν ἐκρίνατε.

(520)

But she intends to use it anyway, though after the fact: ἐπίσταμαι μὲν ὡς ἐπ᾽ ἐξειργασμένοις... This, rather than an apology for a clumsy adaptation, is a pointed, Zielinskian criticism of the reused motif, indicating its inadequacy and commending—though this time only by implication—the new or altered version. The action eventually taken by the Queen and Elders in the Persians is drastic, original, and (supposing any value in supernatural aids) more likely to be effectual. They call up the great Dareios to advise his people in their trouble. The pattern

of reuse

may indeed clarity. But the criticism, is new version

and

improvement

be that of Phrynichos,

of

an

earlier

version,

which

appears here with particular

Persians, while it subjects the motif of sacrifice to singular in its silence about its own intentions. The is introduced in rather stealthy fashion. From the

first time when

the name

of Dareios is mentioned,

to the moment

when he rises up, the notion of calling up a ghost is never proposed 19 On the development of the necromantic scene, cf. STÖSSL, above, n. 5. SCHADEWALDT, Urs., 117, sees the finessing of the decision as a token

of early development:

‘Von Entscheidung. . .ist es noch nicht die Rede."

As I suggested in the first chapter of this section, I hesitate to draw a firm

chronological line between the Persians and a play like the Seven (as SCHADEWALDT, does Urs., 119-120), since the differences more to do with structure and style than with date.

between the plays

have

132

DRAMATIC

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IN

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for discussion by anyone. At no point is audience attention drawn to the idea of necromancy

as, for instance,

a part

of the counsel

so ostentatiously requested by the Queen and offered by the Elders. All the machinery which might serve such a decision is absent from the explicit verbal level. Dareios was introduced into the dream rather unceremoniously ; at the very end, πατὴρ παρίσταται (197). This prompts the chorus to include Dareios in their suggested sacrifices, some to apotropaic divinities, and some to chthonic divinities.!! The motif develops naturally at this early stage, when sacrifices make more sense, while necromancy would be too drastic a response. Only the arrival of the Messenger with news of certain disaster justifies a more extreme expedient. Yet, even after that news has come, the theme of sacrifice is merely restated, though it has now been marked by the Queen as pointless. Even the speech of the Queen at her return does not deal directly with necromancy or suggest a change in plans. Only in her last lines is there a command for the chorus: τόν te δαίμονα [Δαρεῖον ἀνακαλεῖσθε

(620-621)

The audience would naturally expect a dirge-like song to the spirit of Dareios, in the absence of more specific instructions.!? Audience awareness that a real dramatic event is in the offing is entirely dependent on the choral anapaests that follow, and especially on the ode itself. In the anapaests it is suggested that the presence of Dareios might bring some help to his people.!? The ode, with its precise predictions about the apparition, completes the tardily-laid 11 STOSSL (151) remarks that the sacrifices, after dividing into two parts, become one again as the non-chthonic part disappears (“wie abgestorben’’). Cf. note ro, above.

1? Cf. R. Hölzle, Zum

Aufbau dev lyrischen Partien des Aischylos

Freiburg, 1935) 106, who points increasingly abstract and religious, vivid and concrete. 13 BROADHEAD finds fault (165) the chorus states what they hope

(Diss.

out that the prayers in the L.B. become while those in the Pe. become increasingly with the language of the passage in which to gain from the Ghost (631-632), but I

think he has overstated the difficulties. Tt κακῶν ἄκος... πλέον depends for its sense on the common

idiom τι πλέον to indicate any betterment

or ad-

vantage over the present state of affairs, cf. Hdt. 1.89.2, δικαιῶ, εἴ τι ἐνορῶ πλέον, σημαίνειν σοι. Πέρας εἴποι is indeed an odd expression. It may suggest "state the limit (of evils)," but it could also mean “speak definitively." In fact,

Dareios

(Note that we speak at all.)

offers

have

no

not

&xoc,

heard

but

his statements

before

any

are

suggestion

definitive

that

and

valid.

Dareios

might

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I33

groundwork for the specter. Although the Ghost of Dareios has become more important as the play has progressed, his appearance began as a mere adjunct to a comprehensive apotropaic ceremony. The actual summons to the Ghost seems to resolve itself out of a mist of motivations that are never made clear. Such an oblique progress is of course not unexampled in the development of real events. The Queen and the Elders are far from unnatural or stilted in their psychic reactions if they cling to an earlier decision in spite of its clear inadequacy, or if they then proceed to modify that decision, without any mention of the change.

But theatrical practice, which should not be confused with what human beings actually do, usually provides the audience with an explanation that makes the play's structure intelligible to them; and theatric motivations often require a clarity that may be the reverse of naturalistic. At any rate, the decision for necromancy is not

presented

as muddled;

rather,

it is not

presented

at

all.

The audience is not meant to notice whether or not the decision has been made, or changed, or even made unawares; we are led to accept and expect the presence of the Ghost on stage. without asking what, in the minds of the Queen and the Chorus, led to his being conjured up. It is difficult to think of any other tragic play that treats a major event in this way. The inconsistencies cited by T. Wilamowitz in Sophocles and by Dawe and Lesky in the other Aeschylean plays are of a different order. Eteokles’ illogical but dramatically satisfying method of assigning (or announcing?) the seven Theban champions is not really parallel to the dramaturgical sleight of hand in the Persians. To mention and describe an important event, wringing the maximum of audience anticipation from it, only to have it actually take place in another, more dramatically effective way, is a device that T. Wilamowitz was able to trace in several Sophoclean plays. But not to mention a major event, and even to camouflage it as something else until the last minute is an extra14 On Eteokles’

Theben,"

behavior,

cf. A.

Lesky,

"Eteocles

in den

Sieben

gegen

WS 74 (1961) 5-17; he remarks that two contradictory presenta-

tions can be united in a kind of ''Helldunkel" (9), cf. the remarks of Dawe, 33-37. On Sophocles, cf. T. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Die dramatische Technique des Sophocles (Berlin, 1917); and H. Lloyd-Jones, ''Tycho von

Wilamowitz-Moellendorf (1972) 215-219, reception.

on

the

Dramatic

on the republication

Technique

of T.W.'s work

and

of Sophocles,"

CQ

its recent critical

I34

DRAMATIC

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IN

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PERSIANS

ordinary expedient. It means that the play cannot present itself as

a logically coherent series of events. Yet news

such from

an odd arrangement Salamis

is the climax

has its purposes. of dramatic

The

tension

dreadful

and

would,

if effective at all, overshadow and obscure any hints in the first scene about coming ghostly visitations.^ On the other hand, a pause for deliberation following the announcement of the disaster would slow the play severely by breaking it into two clearly delimited halves,

one before and one after the battle news,

with an evident

lack of tension in the second half. This problem too results from the play's double structure. In one sense, the play is coherent, simple, and climactic, as it moves toward the appearance of Xerxes. In imposing on this shape the scheme of the three messages, the Persians determines for repose instead of movement, and balance instead of an overt system of motivations. The Queen's first exit is the moment at which the sacrifice motif is both reasserted and revealed as insufficient or unsatisfactory. At this moment, too, we hear of Xerxes' possible appearance directly following the Messenger. In the first chapter of this section (II.x) the reference to Xerxes was found to be the mark of the alteration

in dramatic

structure:

as Dareios

is to be substituted,

we hear a significant echo of the superseded, simpler version in which one king, Xerxes, would be the third and final actor to appear. But these functions do not exhaust the Queen's first exit as a hinge of dramatic movement, for the anticipation of Xerxes' entry also links this exit to the Queen's final departure from the stage. The two exits are evidently complementary. The first pretends to be a final exit, but is not, while the second mimics the form and

situation of by now be assigned to Xerxes, the

the first. The effect has seemed puzzling, but it must evident that no trivial or accidental cause should be such a singular anomaly in such a crucial location.!® Queen suggests at her first exit, may arrive before she

can return with the sacrificial materials. After the Ghost's scene, when she leaves on a different errand (to fetch Xerxes' royal robes),

the event

predicted

15 Cf. TAPLIN,

16 TAPLIN,

earlier does

occur:

Xerxes

arrives

and

the

106.

97-98, suggests emendation,

to rescue Aeschylus’

reputation

as a dramatic technician. DAWE is willing to class Aeschylus' skills somewhat lower, 25ff. I would argue only that Aeschylus has used his considerable skills in a way that is strange to modern theater.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

I35

Queen does not come out to meet him. It is true that Xerxes is frequently mentioned in the ode following the first exit; indeed, the ode uses the same themes of mourning that reappear at Xerxes' true entrance in the exodos." R. D. Dawe has argued that the audience must have anticipated Xerxes’ appearance throughout this ode, and that the shock when—instead of Xerxes—the Queen entered provided a sort of ersatz for dramatic movement in a static play. But the effect can hardly have been great enough to make the deception worth while. Since the Queen is a familiar figure, her unexpected but not unexplained reentrance, rather than increasing dramatic tension, tends to deflate it. Audiences do, as I have said, follow the expecta-

tions set up by a play quite slavishly, since they are dependent on these signals for their understanding of and participation in the theatrical

illusion.

But,

for the

same

reason,

they

must

swallow

the disappointment of any expectations with equal passivity, since their failure to do so would dissipate the compact of acceptance on which the bogus reality of the stage world depends. In a sequence of real events, our expectations and premonitions of chance occurrences that do not materialize are swept aside by the force of reality. As Schadewaldt remarked, stage events are a ‘‘shaped reality." 19 Stage signals remind us of the shaping, but the artificial reality of the stage world forces us to ignore any apparent signals about future dramatic events, whenever these signals turn out to be false. Such incongruencies are forgotten as the play moves forward, unless of course further signals renew the anticipation. In the Persians the false exit signal lies dormant until the Queen's final exit, when distinct echoes of the previous situation can recall the theme of the missed encounter to the audience. The remarks of the Queen at her second exit, though similar in content, are different in dramaturgical impact from those at her first. The first exit introduces Xerxes in an arbitrary fashion that does not merge entirely with the imagined world of the play. Our information about Xerxes comes from the Messenger, but that individual has 17 This echo of themes from the stasimon to the exodos is another instance

of the ringing that surrounds the Dareios scene setting it off and embedding it in the rest of the play. 18 DAWE, 30; he also suggests that it helps to “impose a kind of unity." 19 SCHADEWALDT, Mon., 29; "Selbst das Unwahrscheinliche nach dem

Machtspruch des Dichters wahrscheinlich wirken kann, denn das Bühnengeschehen ist geformte Wirklichkeit.”

136

DRAMATIC ART IN THE PERSIANS

never mentioned the imminence of Xerxes’ return.? The anticipation of the Queen is therefore gratuitous, and may be taken by the audience as a signal to them of a coming plot event. In the second exit,

by

contrast,

the

Queen’s

statement

shows

a

concern

for

Xerxes that is plausible because it is well-integrated with her dramatic personality.24 But the effect of the earlier signaling remark 1s overpowering: when the theme of premature exit appears a second time, the warm assurances that the Queen will return are fatally weakened by these echoes. The audience is not surprised to see Xerxes emerge instead. Repetition of the motif of the premature exit permits its presentation under two different aspects. The first time, the Queen clearly indicates that Xerxes may come before her, and she instructs the chorus in their role as moral guides and comforters. The second exit is directed by the Ghost, who separates the function of the chorus—to serve as his deputies in rebuking and admonishing Xerxes--from that of the Queen—to relieve the distress of Xerxes and to comfort him. While the chorus do not fulfill Dareios' instructions exactly, they do reproach Xerxes and remind him of his failure, sending him into agonies of remorse (g86ff.). The comforting, thrust outside the time of the play, takes place only through the medium of the Ghost’s words: ἀλλ᾽ 3

3

αὑτὸν EVPEOVWS σὺ πραυνον λογοις ,

\

3

/

1

/

/

μόνης γὰρ, οἶδα, σοῦ κλύων ἀνέξεται. No

one this time mentions

that the Queen

(837-838) might

miss

Xerxes;

and, as she leaves for the last time, she cries, "For we'll not betray in time of troubles that which is most dear."

οὐ γὰρ τὰ φίλτατ᾽ Ev κακοῖς προδώσομεν.

(851)

The earlier version of the exit is the only one to include a clear signal about stage actions, that Xerxes will anticipate the Queen, and that he will be escorted into the palace by the Elders. This version works best at a distance. At the first exit, for the Queen to miss Xerxes would be a trivial accident, since she leaves merely 20 Note that he does not mention the all-important Hellespont at all. The party of Xerxes, having passed through Thrace, ἥκουσιν ἐκφυγόντες, οὐ πολλοί τινες, [ἐφ᾽ ἑστιοῦχον γαῖαν (510). The considerable distance from Thrace to Sousa has been left entirely vague in our minds, so that we have no vivid picture of Xerxes’ proximity, or of his distance. 21 Cf. the discussion of her motivations, below.

THE

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STRUCTURE

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137

to prepare sacrifices that she herself has treated as of little value. But the second exit presents a real incongruity, even a paradox: the Queen's concern for her son is used to motivate a result exactly the opposite of her intent, since Xerxes enters alone, in rags, and without a comforter. The technique of the double version permits a split in motivation of the exit, between the dramaturgical fact and the stage personality of the Queen, with resulting gains in audience comprehension and persuasiveness.?? Both in its treatment of the Queen's last exit and in its manipulation of the Ghost's entrance, the play uses the spurious authority of the stage event, its creation of a "shaped reality," to overcome a liability of dramatic presentation, its dependency on a single, temporally sequential series of events. Many of the Sophoclean techniques traced by T. Wilamowitz have the same aim: discrepancies introduced between the form of coming events when they are predicted and their eventual resolution on stage make the choices imposed by the play's structure less irrevocable and limiting.?? The Queen's last exit is such a device: her meeting with Xerxes remains

unrealized;

but,

through

the

description

in the

Ghost's

narrative and through the manner of her exit, the phantom encounter retains a peripheral effectiveness. The principles of Zielinski and those of T. Wilamowitz are in fact complementary in Aeschylean stage-craft. The manipulation of stage events in the Sophoclean Antigone or Trachiniat is, like the

Zielinskian

enriches

the

use

chosen

of

the

version

"alternate

of events

version,"

by

a

device

presenting

which

a parallel

sequence which remains valid in potential, while a different version

is actualized. But the techniques of Sophoclean theater, which are designed to prevent the audience's noticing the discrepancies, contrast with the frontal presentation of the "alternate version," in which the audience may be expected to recognize traces of the rejected version and to see how it has been improved and modified. The various devices crossing and recrossing in the speech before 22 Cf. the interesting dramaturgical parallels between the Persians and Plautus’ Captivi, detailed below, Appendix. 23 There are innumerable cases, a famous one being the double burial in the Ant., which permits us to see separately Kreon’s reaction to the burial, and his reaction to the discovery that Antigone is the culprit. In L.B. Orestes speaks of confronting Aigisthos, though we never see him do it;

Klyt. calls for her canonical axe, though of course no one brings it. (Cf. DAWE, 55.)

138

DRAMATIC ART IN THE PERSIANS

the Queen’s exit show links between the phenomena noted by Zielinski and the Sophoclean devices, which are specially suited

to theater. The problems of exits and entrances, and the manipulation of the audience’s viewpoint are specific to drama; but the frank emphasis on structure and dramaturgy belong to the general technique of archaic poetry. Dareios’ appearance is slipped into the play with a deftness that resembles Sophocles’ handling of the polymorphous oracles in the Trachiniai.** But Aeschylean sleight of hand draws attention towards the formal arrangement—substitution of Dareios for Xerxes as the dramatic climax—and away from the subjectivity of the stage figures who call Dareios up. Again, at the Queen's second exit, psychological motivation serves to emphasize dramaturgical structure. The Queen's wellestablished need to preserve and comfort Xerxes is used in a bold and paradoxical way to resolve the incongruity in her absence during the final kommos, an incongruity that seems to be entailed precisely by the substitution of Dareios for Xerxes in the last lineverse scene, and the resulting shift of emphasis from Persian to world-historical themes. If the exit were conventionally necessary, as in single-actor tragedy, or were inherently persuasive, explanation and emphasis would not fall upon it at all. Art would be concealed in the Sophoclean, rather than revealed in the Aeschylean manner. The dual references to the exit make a positive use of a tension between the Queen's dramatic identity, as anxious mother, and her—now completed—dramaturgical function. The brief speech in which the Queen pauses before her first exit to explain her intended actions and their motivations, is the dramaturgical hinge of the play. A number of signals to the audience mark the close of two motifs, which may each derive from separate formal influences on the structure of the play—propitiatory sacrifices and the king's entrance. Both motifs must be altered or reshaped to make way for the last major scene: for Xerxes will be substituted Dareios, and for sacrifices, necromancy. In the style of ring composition, each is stressed just before its abandonment. But the speech also creates an opening to the future, in its anticipation of the Queen’s final exit. The continuity of the Queen's role is sustained across the barrier of the Ghost's scene, which, in this way as in others, projects away from the play into which it has been set so elaborately. 24 On

the oracles in the

Trach.,

cf. T. Wilamowitz

(above,

n. 14),

118-121.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

139

In discussing the dramaturgy of the Persians, I have argued that imperative conditions of theatrical performance, especially the need to communicate the form of the play to the audience, affect the Persians as they do other plays, though the frontal approach of early Aeschylean theater to dramaturgical structure

often curtails the scope of the theatrical illusion. On the other hand, since the core of the illusion must be the mimicry of human personality and motivation in each stage figure, it seems likely that this aspect of the theater could be dispensable in this play. Each actor serves primarily as a messenger, a role that necessarily places emphasis on the expository function of the stage figure, rather than on its subjective responses. Yet each protagonist has in fact been furnished with a persistent and coherent set of interests and tendencies, that basic core of personality that John Jones has derived from ‘the interlocking of status and stage event." ? This personality, however, is used to adorn and explicate the essentially expository form of the play, rather than to provide the motive force that propels a plot. The Queen’s role in the play is clearly a dominant one: she alone performs

actions,

the

various

sacrifices,

that

produce

and she alone is present with the chorus to meet and

the

Ghost.

Yet,

since

the

real

“action”

results;

the Messenger

of the

Persians

is

exposition of the disaster, the role of the Queen (except in the first scene where she is the messenger) is extraneous to the main business of the play. She links and binds together the appearances of the Messenger and the Ghost, but her own premature exit shows the extent to which she is a foil for the main

concern.

Like other

elements in the paratactic structure, the Queen has been coordinated rather than subordinated to the whole.?2# In other ways too she serves as an intermediary. Her motivation and personality are wholly defined by her social and familial roles as mother to one king and wife to another; thus the Queen is the genealogical link, as all women are, between the males from one generation to the next. The purpose of marriage, in Greek terms, is to perpetuate the 2° J. Jones, On Aristotle and Greek Tragedy (London, 1962) 114. Also on Aeschylus’ characterization, cf. E. Spring, "Exposition in Greek Tragedy," HSCP 28 (1917), 211; H. D. F. Kitto, Form and Meaning in Drama (London, 1956),

48ff.;

Aeschylus," G.

GARVIE,

132; P.

Easterling,

''Presentation

of

Character

in

& R. 20 (1973) 3-19.

26 The phrase of NESTLE,

Str., 23, to describe the prologue of the Phoinis-

sat; cf. the general remarks on this style in II.r.

I40

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

family through such linkings, so that is really single, not double. The Queen pathetic protagonist because she is a two men who possess an almost divine θεοῦ

μὲν

εὐνάτειρα

llepoOv,

PERSIANS

the role of wife and mother may be an especially symhuman connection between status:

θεοῦ

δὲ

καὶ

μήτηρ

ἔφυς

(157)

Like mothers of sons in many societies, the Queen derives status from her son. The intensity of her devotion to Xerxes is consonant with his position as both her king and her son—and the only source of her own considerable power and status. This political aspect of the relation is the sole complication of the Queen’s role as mother, and it alone suffices to produce the whole range of behavior she displays. The paradox of the choice between king and army, discussed above, develops directly out of the Queen’s partiality to Xerxes and her resulting tendency to confuse his mere survival with an escape from disaster, καὶ λευκὸν ἦμαρ νυκτὸς ἐκ μελαγχίμου (301). The Queen’s love for Xerxes precipitates a fine moment of psychological portrayal at the opening of the Messenger’s scene.?” Her question there is a masterpiece of euphemism, expressive of the

tension

between

regent to a nation:

the

role

"Who

of mother

to one

son,

and

that

of

has not died...”

τίς οὐ τέθνηκε, τίνα δὲ καὶ πενθήσομεν τῶν ἀρχελείων...

(296-297)

This reversed euphemism is still a euphemism; it hides what the speaker is afraid to say and yet believes to be true—that Xerxes may yet be alive. Because the Queen tends to confuse Xerxes with the nation he heads, her joy, breaking out vividly once her fear has

been

resolved,

throws

the

list of the

dead

that

follows

into

appropriately strong relief: it zs like the contrast between day and night.

The Queen's earlier remark that Xerxes is οὐχ ὑπεύθενος πόλει is less significant basic motivation. 27 Cf. the remarks

psychologically, Xerxes'

yet it has

survival,

of HOLTSMARK,

affinities with

as well as the maintenance

pg.

102,

n.

7; ALBINI,

261;

her of

DEICH-

GRABER, 42. Unfortunately, maternal love often provokes the sentimental presumption of an incomprehensible and irrational sacrifice of self-interest ; in fact, the Queen’s motivations are a natural product of her status or role.

Cf. my article, "Characters (1979) 153-164.

and Character

Change

in Aeschylus," Ramus

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

141

his kingly role, are persistent concerns for the Queen. The tableau in which Dareios pities his son’s humiliation, the plucking of the eagle’s feathers in the omen, even the naive pride of the Persian woman in her decorative harness, all these features of the Queen’s first trimeter speech fit with her deep concern for the signs of Xerxes’ status. The Queen’s involvement with Xerxes’ survival motivates her general hopefulness. Her vague caveat at the first exit, μὴ xat τι πρὸς κακοῖσι προσθῆται κακόν (531), is less the expression of a particular foreboding than it is representative of the general theme of hopes for a remedy, for something to save what is left of Xerxes’ position.?? This attempt at salvage parallels the spirit in which the Queen undertakes her offerings after the news of the battle, and it complements the persistently-expressed optimism of the chorus. The assignment given the Queen by the ghost of her husband is thus consonant with a number of traits that have already been developed for her, all proceeding directly out of the mother/queen role. In bringing clothing to Xerxes, the mother comforts him, and the queen reestablishes his status as a ruler who, “if saved, will still rule over this land,"

σωθεὶς δ᾽ ὁμοίως τῆσδε xotpavet χθονός.

(214)

Her last words as she leaves the stage are an affirmation of this continuity of concern (852). Xerxes, though humiliated, is to be preserved and cherished as son and as symbol of Persian rule for the future. But the completion of the Queen’s mission is forced outside

the

frame

of the

drama,

since

it is in conflict

with

the

stringent limits the play’s structure imposes upon the Persian focus. There remain areas where the Queen’s personality, always consistent in quality, fails to maintain a consistent strength. This unevenness suggests the danger of arguing from negative evidence in determining the psychology of Aeschylean characters. The exquisite moment of agonized curiosity at the opening of the 28 On the presumed suggestion of suicide in these lines, cf. DAWE, 29, and ALBINI, 261. Suicide is hardly the conventional resort of failure for males

in Greek drama, and this vague reference is not enough to suggest it. Without a concrete fear, however, the Queen's remark admittedly sounds rather complacent and even trivial, given the dire circumstances; but the Queen

is not immune to the fault with which she has just reproached the chorus (φαύλως ... ἐκρίνατε).

I42

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

Messenger's scene soon gives way to quite another mood. Though we are reminded by the chorus in lyric (122, 541ff.) that mourning is a natural social role for women, the Queen avoids any expression of grief through the second episode, except for a brief exclamation or two. She remains in the trimeter mode, serving as interlocutor to the Messenger, setting him to his task, and changing the direction of the narrative when necessary. Her apparent objectivity has little to do with the Queen's dramatic personality, since unlike Klytaimestra she is described by nobody as being particularly tough or self-controlled.?? When the Queen's personal reactions are mentioned at all, they are what her role would lead us to expect. She is full of fear and deep cancern in the first episode; and, when she returns after the Messenger's scene, she once again mentions her deep fears and her despair. The structural needs of the play run counter to the Queen's characterization in the Messenger scene; and the expression of her personality takes place later, when it is structurally appropriate. Her fear and alarm at the opening of the next scene serve to motivate the necromantic ceremony, contrasting the mood of the Persians with what they hope to gain from Dareios. The Persian Queen's role notably lacks the complex circumstances that

make

the

motherhood

of Thetis,

Klytaimestra,

or

Niobe

so

poignant. Yet she displays a distinct and consistent dramatic personality that is generally consonant with her dramaturgical function but that emerges only shghtly from the background of the play. She is an example of what Kranz termed “ Die allerreifste Kunst des Dichters, die sich... auch offenbart in der Gestaltung des Menschen. . .der keineswegs ein Charakter ist, wie wir es heute zu verlangen gewóhnt sind, und von dem dennoch gilt [Goethe's], ‘Wie wahr, wie seiend!' ".?? Stylization, the subordination of representation to other elements in design, does not preclude an effective mimesis. The communicative power of stance and gesture in such a figure may be greater in the absence of a profusion of psychological detail. Though the Queen does miss meeting her son, she encounters 28 Cf. my remarks in II.3 above, n. 60, and cf. n. 50, below. It really should not be necessary to say that any interpretation of dramatic character or motivation should be founded upon overt statements in the play, or at least should never contradict them. 30 KRANZ, 59.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I43

two other actors. The Messenger, however, can hardly be said to have a personality. He merely expresses the narrative mode of the trimeter. The only moment of apparent spontaneity for the Messenger—when he fathoms the Queen's euphemized question about Xerxes—is really a further instance of his passivity. This momentary flare of personality is only the reflection of the Queen's burst of self-revelation; the Messenger never again takes the initiative and even his choice of narrative topics 15 directed by the insistent questioning of the Queen. The Queen’s mood in the remainder of the scene, once the psychological moment at the opening has been passed, is consistently bland and cold, a fitting complement to the Messenger's objectivity. The play's only encounter between two personalities is thus the third episode, in which the Queen meets the Ghost of her husband. But Dareios turns out to be himself a rather cool and impersonal figure. That he should be so is doubtless appropriate since Ghosts in drama, to judge by Hamlet's father, or the Commendatore in Don Giovanni, share an attenuated humanity and an air of remoteness. It may be that the dramaturgical necessity of making the peculiar status of a ghost persuasive to and understandable for an audience virtually requires from such figures a special '"'ghostly personality." ?! Like the other ghosts mentioned, Dareios speaks with a tone of authority beyond the merely human; and like them his major concern is with things transcending the human present. The movement of the play away from the limitations of its Persian setting is largely due to the Ghost; and it is one of the drama's major ironies that the Ghost, heralded as the very symbol of former good fortune and prosperity, is so ill-suited to offer comfort to his people. Dareios is not the remembered king come again, but a supernatural being with a different psychology. At his first entry, the Ghost expresses some initial fearful emotion and a considerable curiosity: he has heard the sounds of Persian woe but has been unable to make out the reason why he has been 31 The

monograph

of

R.

Hickman,

Ghostly

Etiquette

on

the

Classical

Stage (Iowa Stud. in Class. Philol. 7, 1938), does not deal with the differences between

classical

and

modern

theater.

Supernatural

effects

are

difficult

in an open theater, without the lighting and scenery of later times. Yet, if the failure of the audience to understand a normal entrance would be dangerous, their failure to grasp a supernatural identity would be disastrous. The effect of the elaborate introduction is to inform the audience clearly about D.’s nature, powers, and intent, cf. DAWE, 30; TAPLIN, II4-II5.

I44

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

called.?? This ignorance and curiosity, as Dawe remarks, is useful in producing a second exposition of the disaster.?? The recapitulation is needed because only through this retelling do the unsifted events described in the first and second episodes become comprehensible as a working out ot the moral truths hinted at in the parodos. Once this exposition is over, the Ghost's attitude changes, for reasons that are suggested with some elaborate plausibility. The psychological realism, however, 1s wholly at the service of dramaturgical structure. The Ghost exclaims in surprise (φεῦ, 739) as the details of Xerxes' misfortune call to his mind certain oracles. He had not thought of them before, since he had expected the prophecies to refer to another time, far distant in the future: φεῦ, ταχεῖα γ᾽ ἦλθε χρησμῶν πρᾶξις, ἐς δὲ παῖδ᾽ ἐμὸν Ζεὺς ἀπέσκηψεν τελευτὴν θεσφάτων ἐγὼ δέ που διὰ μακροῦ χρόνου τάδ᾽ ηὔχουν ἐχτελευτήσειν θεούς: (739-741) Apparently the survival of Xerxes is the trigger that releases the Ghost’s memories: we might be justified in supposing that some mention of a great military defeat on sea and land, in which the king himself survived, was contained in these oracles. So much for naturalistic psychology. These constructs are not wrong—since Dareios’ lines partly support them—but they are only marginally significant. The Ghost’s awakening to knowledge occurs where it is structurally appropriate, at the close of the long stichomythy, after he has been given all the details about the war. The mention of Xerxes’ survival is poised at the end of the dialogue; and the fact that Xerxes is not dead might be expected to precipitate some words of comfort and consoling advice, such as the chorus had hoped for. The abrupt introduction of the oracles takes the Ghost out of his previous role as questioner, without putting him into the one the chorus had intended for him, that of counsellor. The extent to which the structural function of the oracles outweighs their psychological value is clear as the scene continues. The oracles are most plausible at their first mention. A tedious 32 BROADHEAD,

arguing

that

anxiety

is inappropriate

to

Dareios’

role

(277) attempted to eliminate ταρβῶ (685). But references to fear form a ring around the questioning part of the scene, cf. δέδοικα, rather abruptly introduced at 751. D. displays no more fear in the ensuing part of the scene. 33 DAWE, 3I.

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I45

exposition and interpretation of the oracles would be a clumsy device if maintained in detail, and it is not surprising to see that they are later dropped.3* Dareios begins to speak as though from certain, prophetic knowledge; and his moral authority increases in direct proportion to his omniscience. The cavalier treatment of the oracles is familiar from the technique of Sophocles; but again the differences are most instructive. Aeschylus' oracles are mentioned again, at a moment that seems precisely wrong for the stage illusion. At the opening of the long speech on Plataia, we learn that Dareios relies on the oracles for his prediction that few are left from Xerxes' army—though he could have derived this directly from the Queen’s account (οὐ πολλῶν μέτα, 734). Why mention oracles to confirm what human means have ascertained? And why draw attention now to a device that is inadequate to explain the prophetic powers the Ghost is about to display? Judging by parallel moments in the dramaturgy of the Perszans, we must answer that the oracles are less important as plausible stage events than as a device that structures a scene divided between Dareios as questioner and Dareios as prophet. The oracles are mentioned just before they are finally dropped because, in the style of ring composition, a marker is placed at the introduction and at the close of a sequence. 34 Cf. D. J. Conacher, '"Aeschylus' Pevsae; A Literary Commentary," in Serta Turyniana; Studies in Greek Literature and Palaeography in Honor of Alexander Turyn, ed. T.L. Heller, J. K. Newman (Urbana, Ill., 1974) 161. 35 BROADHEAD'’S discussion of this passage recognizes some of its difficulties but comes to conclusions that are difficult to accept (199). He assumes that, when the chorus cries out, “What, is not the whole army crossing the Helles-

pont from Europe ?”’ (798-799), they must mean, ‘Will not the whole army of Mardonius cross the Hellespont?" But the emotional significance of the reply is unarguable: the chorus are astonished to hear of Mardonius’ force, about which they had known nothing (Cf. C. G. Schütz’ ed. Aeschyli Tvagoediae Quae Supersunt [London, 1823] 468). The phrase πᾶν στράτευμα, clearly opposes the army as a whole to the newly-defined part of it that remains behind. That πᾶν στράτευμα does not amount to much is precisely the point of D.'s ironic reply, παῦροΐ ye πολλῶν (For the force of the ye, cf. DENNISTON, 135; the word affirms a part of the question, but limits it.) The Ghost catches up the oversight of the chorus: not only is it not the “whole army”’

that crosses, but—because of catastrophic losses—the survivors of those Xerxes led off are few indeed. At the resumption of his train of thought, xeinep

τάδ᾽

ἔστι

(803),

Dareios

confirms

what the chorus

had

questioned:

“And if that 2s true [that oracles are trustworthy], he is leaving behind... a throng selected from the army, trusting in empty hopes.’’ Had the chorus not expressed incredulity, his repetition would make no sense.

146

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

Although Dareios’ oracles are not completely subordinated to the theatric illusion, they remain peripherally expressive of a dramatic personality. The play makes clear that Dareios’ rank as a “Sousa-born god" does not make him super-human. Unlike Xerxes, the old king has never forgotten to observe the limits set for mortals. That Dareios can return from the underworld shows his importance among the dead (691); yet as a dead man he is plainly a mere mortal. The Queen’s praise of him emphasizes this balance: while Dareios lived he was like a god among the Persians, but he was especially fortunate in dying before the time of troubles.36 Because Dareios’ information is supposed to derive from oracles, he need not claim any divine powers but can present himself still merely as the acme of a limited, human perfection. Dareios changes from questioner to prophet, but his essential attitudes and personality do not alter. His fears expressed in the trochaic part of the scene represent concern for his own achievements, the monument

to his fortunate life, which must not become

τοῦ φθάσαντος ἁρπαγῇ. Xerxes’ personal fate does not seem to concern Dareios at all.?? On two occasions, first when Xerxes’ survival

is mentioned (at the end of the long tetrameter stichomythy, 738, and then at the end of the tetrameter part of the scene, 758, when the Queen has given an interesting hint about Xerxes' motivations) the Ghost turns aside rather abruptly into a longer speech that severely

condemns

Xerxes.

The

guiding

concern

of

the

Queen,

therefore, and the parental relation that ought to join her and Dareios to Xerxes is slack and devoid of emotional resonance. In the trochaic part of the scene, while Dareios is still the questioner, both agree in their analysis of the disaster; but their interpretations of it do not jibe. In the second, iambic part of the scene, as Dareios

becomes more magisterial, the chorus intervenes to take over the role of interlocutor. The first trimeter speech of the Ghost, the catalogue of kings, is of very remote concern to his stage hearers, the chorus, and is clearly directed at the audience, for whom the material is more novel and to whose more impersonal or historical viewpoint the dynastic sequence is more relevant. But the very remoteness of the catalogue itself expresses the denatured personality of the 36 712, νῦν TE σε ζηλῶ θανόντα πρὶν κακῶν ἰδεῖν βάθος. 37 On Dareios’ coldness and lack of emotive response,

45.

cf. DEICHGRABER,

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF THE

PERSIANS

I47

Ghost, and the disappointed reaction of the chorus indicates how far the Ghost has fallen short of the comfort and support they expected.?® The Ghost has a tenuous connection with the living world in which the Queen and the Elders still remain. His view is macroscopic, trained on the historical series of monarchs in which he has already taken a place. As a figure representing the chain of dead rulers, Dareios is angry at Xerxes for endangering what he and his predecessors had achieved. His parental qualities, in an exaggeration of paternal sternness, extend only to rebuke and chastisement. For the well-meaning hopes of the chorus, he offers not a scrap of comfort. The Ghost ends his scene with a wistful truism very different in tone from his preceding speeches: ὑμεῖς δέ, πρέσβεις, χαίρετ᾽, Ev κακοῖς ὅμως ψυχῇ διδόντες ἡδονὴν καθ᾽ ἡμέραν, ὡς τοῖς θανοῦσι πλοῦτος οὐδὲν ὠφελεῖ. (840-842) This resembles the tone of grim humor at his entrance, where he remarked that the chthonic deities are better at taking than at letting go—oßelv ἀμείνους εἰσὶν N μεθιέναι (690).39 The ring references to spectral existence remind us that Dareios is a spirit and belongs to the shadow world. The huge acquired wealth for which the Ghost is concerned and which proved too much for Xerxes to bear, means nothing to his present existence. The rather unheroic advice to find pleasure in daily life corresponds to a typical nostalgia of ghosts, for whom the honor among the dead is a poor substitute for the pleasures of life.4° Dareios is characterized, not as the king he once was, but as the ghost of that king. His remoteness from life gives a profound weight to his comments on the tragic event, but it weakens the bonds between himself and the humans on stage. 38 Cf. comments 39

Cf. S. Eitrem,

on the phrase tt οὖν, II.3, n. 59. "The

Necromancy

in the Persians

of Aeschylus"

S.O.

6

(1928) 12, who sees in this a touch of "genuine popular humor.” 40 The other tragic ghost, Polydoros in the Hekabe, shows more human sympathy; but his primary concern is to obtain the burial rites he needs, 49-50. The ghost of Achilleus, appearing in Sophocles' Polyxene (TrGF 523) refers to itself in the feminine gender (note the emphatic contrast of the feminine participle with ἄρσενας χοάς), an apparent abdication of the hero's former character. This recalls the ghost of Achilleus in the Od. (11.489-490), whose remark on the uselessness of status to the dead is the forerunner of Dareios' closing remarks.

148

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

The character of Dareios’ old comrades, the Elders in the chorus,

is derived from a stance even simpler than that of the Queen or the Ghost. They are said to function as well-meaning and loyal counsellors to the Queen (σύμβουλοι). This function, however, notoriously goes unfulfilled, both in the first scene where the chorus’ advice is tautologous and inadequate, and later, for they take no part in any reasoned deliberations before the arrival of Dareios. As Dareios leaves, he again urges upon the chorus that they should counsel Xerxes, though he conceives their task more sternly than the Queen had: πρὸς ταῦτ᾽ ἐκεῖνον, σωφρονεῖν κεχρημένον, πινύσκετ᾽ εὐλόγοισι νουθετήμασιν... (829-830) 5 But Xerxes’ entry in the dirge mode overrides reasoned discourse, since counsel or rebuke cannot be expressed fully in threnodic anapaests. There is no explicit rejection or recusatio of the "advice" motif, and it is shunted aside the more easily since the revelations of Dareios have made clear the ineffectiveness of supportive advice to cure the incurable. The frustration of the often-heralded counselling function of the Elders is a corollary of the tragic experience. The motif of reversal, dominating the second episode, is carried into the rest of the play through the renewal of hope occasioned by the apparition of Dareios.** The human misapprehensions of the Queen and her advisors survive even in the face of disastrous fact, to be withered

finally by the cold eye of the Ghost, who, along with his humanity, has sloughed off his susceptibility to elpis (cf. 804). The hopes artfully built up around the appearance of Dareios are as ill-fated as the chorus' original attempt to reach an accommodation with fate in judging the Queen's dream. It remains to discuss the characterization of Xerxes, the tragic hero of the Persians, whose overreaching and downfall is the subject of a play to which his dramatic personality remains peri41 Note that the text is uncertain. If we read σωφρονεῖν κεχρημένον, this would be a final, fleeting reference to oracles. BROADHEAD’s emendation, ὡς φρενῶν κεχρημένον, is more natural; but Xerxes’ folly is not the concern here, so much as his pride and arrogance.

42 Cf. the use of reversal as a theme in the speech on Salamis, II.3 above. The theme is mentioned by E. B. Holtsmark, Persae of Aeschylus," S.O. 45 (1970) 22-23; "das vereitelte menschliche Planen."

“Ring Composition and the and KORZENIEWSKI, 1.588,

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I49

pheral. Given the traditional shape of tragic drama, the absence of the hero is less perverse than it might seem: the Bacchylides

dithyramb is dominated by the absent and unrecognized figure of Theseus. Agamemnon, too, in the play that centers around him, does not develop a very complex characterization, except in lyric reminiscences of Aulis.*# Since Xerxes appears only in a kommos, his emotive reactions are flattened by the very intensity and vividness of his formalized anguish; there is little room for the subtler interplay of stimulus and response in dialogue. At the very end, when Xerxes acts as exarchos to the dirge, initiating the various mourning rituals, his role 1s more commanding, but even less revealing, because it is purely formal. The stage personality of Xerxes depends not on Xerxes' acts and words, but on what we are told about him by others. The traits consistently given Xerxes are very limited: he is youthful and displays the impulsiveness and arrogance of inexperience. His ignorance is mentioned frequently: οὐ κατειδώς (744), οὐ ξυνείς (361), κακῶς τὸ μέλλον ἱστορῶν (454). This trait, which at first appears a normal weakness of youth, has by the last scene become a kind of moral disease, νόσος φρενῶν (750). The word ὕβρις, never mentioned until the last speech, lies very close at hand to this characterization, since the young and the youthfully arrogant are notoriously prone to üßptlew.** Xerxes’ age, and his resulting flaws, are a counterweight to the grave and austere qualities of Dareios, who is a kind of relic of the past.*° This is the framework of a very simple characterization indeed, and for the most part it is all the play requires of Xerxes. A second view of Xerxes' character, hinting at detail that is otherwise absent, appears only briefly, at the end of the Queen's trochaic dialogue with the Ghost. Dareios has just completed the speech in which Xerxes' downfall is shown to be caused by his challenge to the divine authority of Poseidon. The Queen offers in confirmation, and possibly in extenuation, an explanation for Xerxes' behavior: his folly stems from evil influences, 33 On Agamemnon's bland, (n. 25, above), 113-115.

44 Cf. Michelini,

“ὝΒΡΙΣ

and

typically

and

Plants,"

kingly

HSCP

behavior,

cf. J. Jones

82

41;

(1978)

and

M.

MacDowell, “Hubris in Athens," G & R (1976), 15. 45 HOLTSMARK, 142, points out that the two figures are virtually entailed by the balance necessary between ψόγος and ἔπαινος.

I50

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

ταῦτά TOL κακοῖς ὁμιλῶν ἀνδράσιν διδάσκεται ~

/

~

€

~

θούριος Ξέρξης...

3

’

/

(753-754)

This contagion of bad character, though a truism in elegy,‘ is rare in tragedy, probably because tragic heroes tend to show a more individual or willed impulse to destruction. Xerxes, like his mother, is a more conventional and less singular figure than the mythical protagonists of other tragedy. The suggestion of corruption by others is a natural extension of the predominant characterization of Xerxes as youthful and rash-minded, but it has no real

application to the rest of the play.

Xerxes’

acts are elsewhere

caused by his own faults, while his comrades—far from being the instigators—are victims, whose loyalty led to the deaths with which the chorus reproaches Xerxes in the ending kommos. The mention of sins among the followers provides a transition to the accusations of ὕβρις and sacrilege that appear suddenly in the final speech. For the moment these evil advisors serve to link Xerxes’ youth to a new suggestion of his tragic dilemma. The new view of Xerxes develops directly out of the relation of emulation that binds him to his father throughout the play. For the first time, the contrast between generations is seen from Xerxes’ viewpoint: λέγουσι δ᾽ ὡς σὺ μὲν μέγαν τέκνοις πλοῦτον ἐκτήσω ξὺν αἰχμῇ, τὸν δ᾽ ἀνανδρίας ὕπο c»

ἔνδον

>

U

A

αἰχμάζειν,

,

~

\

πατρῷον

>

3

[4

[A

δ᾽ ὄλβονοὐδὲναὐξάνειν.

(754-750)

Xerxes was led, through his desire to imitate and rival Dareios, to abandon the conservative policy necessary to preserve wealth. His tempters called such quiescence ἀνανδρία. The word recalls the Queen’s first trochaic speech, with its antithesis between πλῆθος ἀνάνδρων χρημάτων and o0£voc.*" The riddling form of that 46 Cf. Theognis, 28, 31-38, 61-62, etc. For this theme in Aesch., cf. Seven 599-608. Amphiaraos’ fine moral qualities are contaminated by association with the bad; the theme is less poignant for Xerxes, who possesses bad qualities of his own.

47 This interest.

aspect

of the

Imagery

may

play’s be

thematic

highly

structure

significant—or

word-play that links the yoke to widows

is of only largely

in marriage,

peripheral

decorative:

μονόζυξ,

the

and their

ἄνανδρα λέκτρα does not bear much real weight in the play. While the yokebridge is a vital element in the play’s system of meaning, manliness and “‘manlessness = widowhood'' are not. (For instance, that the Queen uses ἄνανδρος to describe the stations 'deserted'" by those killed in battle [298]

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

I5I

antithesis finds its final twist at this late point in the play: if Xerxes is to be really a man, he must show that he possesses more than mere wealth. Otherwise he is a stay-at-home and unworthy of the possessions that he has failed to increase. In the Queen's speech πλοῦτος was a perilous and unwieldy thing, threatening to overturn the settled ὄλβος; but here, presumably from the viewpoint of

Xerxes,

there

is no

such

distinction.

Wealth

itself,

with

no

moral qualification, is the source of Xerxes' downfall, since it produces his natural desire to fulfill the standard bequeathed to him by Dareios.*® The Queen's brief remark is the plan in miniature of a tragedy of character. Xerxes' acts can be seen as a product of the combined pressures of background (the immense success of his father) and environment (his own youth and the words of the tempters), showing the siren appeal of ἄτη for a man so situated.*?? Instead of being contrasted with Dareios, Xerxes 1s linked to him; it could be argued that Dareios accumulation of wealth was hybristic, the source of the ὕβρις that came to fruition in Xerxes. But it is clear that

the

Persians

is not

such

a character

drama.9?

In this

is trivial: they were not cowardly, of course, but very courageous. We might think of an ironic suggestion of Xerxes’ flight, but the words do not recur when his retreat is mentioned.) 48 Cf. the discussion of ὕβρις and ἄτη in II.2. 49 As commonly in Aeschylean drama, will and circumstance combine

in a single momentum. W. Porzig, Aischylos; Die Attische Tragödie (Leipzig, 1926), 97, cf. 118, suggested that certain roles (e.g. siegreicher Grósskónig) inevitably entail ὕβρις; cf. also K. Reinhardt, ''Herodots Persergeschichten,”’ in Geistige Überlieferung, 1940; repr. in Vermächtnis der Antike; Gesammelte Essays zur Philosophie und Geschichtsschreibung (Göttingen, 1960), 194. The theme of sacrilege discussed above (II.3) bears a similar relation to Xerxes’ situation. 50 [ do not, of course, accept the interpretation of M. Gagarin, Aeschylean Drama (Berkeley, Calif.; 1976), 49-52, according to which the audience are to reject the denunciation of Xerxes by Dareios, since "there is no indication that the chorus or anyone else in the play accepts his view." This sort of criticism goes back to roots in F. Verrall's interpretations; but cf. P. Vella-

cott’s recent treatment of Euripides, Ironic Drama; A Study of Euripides’ Method and Meaning (Cambridge U.P., 1975), 4: "Dramatists whose audience

contained an entire population, from the lowest intellectual level to the highest, may well have made it their art to communicate to each level what was

appropriate or acceptable." This viewpoint is usually based on the rather snobbish assumption that the average Athenian could not have appreciated Euripides

or Aeschylus.

It is of course

true

that

a much

more

complex

understanding is possible for a better-equipped interpreter of any poetic work. But such interpretation enriches the surface impression, rather than

152

DRAMATIC

ART

IN

THE

PERSIANS

play, the particular desires and hopes of Xerxes or of Dareios himself are of no direct consequence. The young king functions as the head of his people, who are involved through his weakness in disaster;

and

the individual

dilemma

of Xerxes

is the briefest

of embellishments upon the main structure of the play. The parallel presentation of another explanation for Xerxes’ acts, along with the appealing and persistent presence of the queenmother, help to maintain the shadow of another, personal and locally Persian story, hidden behind and overshadowed by world history. Characterization in the Persians, like other elements in the complex, paratactic structure of archaic drama, plays a modest and collaborative role in shaping the play, now clarifying dramatic structure, now indicating an important theme, now stressing a moment of tension or marking a change in dramatic rhythm or a shift in meters, occasionally fading almost out of sight as other demands of the structure impose themselves. The Queen's alienation from Dareios is most strikingly evident as their tetrameter dialogue breaks off. She, since she unites the personal and the political in her concern for Xerxes, has suggested a deeper view of his action. But the Ghost, sweeping abruptly into the formal introduction to his catalogue of kings, moves far away, not just from Xerxes’ personal dilemma, but from any sort of immediate human concern. His speech begins with the rare consecutive particle, τοίγαρ, emphasizing presumably that not causes and explanations—or excuses—, but the inevitable and crushing consequences of Xerxes' actions are of importance.?! The premature exit of the Queen is entailed by the irrelevance of her viewpoint, for this is not a play about Xerxes. The division of substituting for it a contradictory encoded in drama,

where lines of communication

message.

This is especially true

with the audience

are all-important.

My arguments above about the essential passivity of dramatic audiences indicate why it is not possible for the audience to disregard the mimic reality of the play, in favor of subtle ironies in the background. The audience must agree to treat what happens on stage as reality, and to accept at the same time the author's role in shaping that reality. When the Queen and her counsellors tell us that Dareios was wise, prudent, and supremely fortunate,

and when Dareios claims oracular sanction for his words—in the absence of some scepticism voiced within the play—we cannot help but accept these judgments of human

as valid, for the provisional reality of the drama. D.'s very lack sympathy tends to make his words more persuasive and

unquestionable;

cf.

TAPLIN,

audience persuasion. 51 Cf. II.3, above, n. 55.

115—on

the

effect

of his

entrance

in building

THE

AESTHETIC

STRUCTURE

OF

THE

PERSIANS

153

parental responsibility between mother and father leaves Dareios in possession of the field and displaces the sympathetic mother to the periphery. The Queen’s view of Xerxes, like her lost meeting with him, presents an aspect of the imaginary dramatic world that cannot be allowed to develop fully within the framework of the play. We begin the Persians with the mother of Xerxes. An Athenian audience, whose resentment of Xerxes must be continually stimulated by the sight of the burnt remains on the hill over the theater, were to be ensnared into sympathy with the monstrous foe by the uncritical and intimate attitude of the Queen.*? It would be hard to imagine any more effective device for the production of sympathy toward such a figure than to make the audience see—not the villain himself—but his old mother. We end the play with the father of Xerxes, but an inhuman father, who comes like a phantasm of Xerxes’ superego, to condemn his son. The denunciations of the Ghost are, in the Persian terms of the play, and therefore necessarily in those of the audience, unanswerable, because of Dareios’ close connection

to the realm

and

to Xerxes,

and

because

of his

immense prestige. The Persians uses the emotional complementarity of the sexes with less emphasis than do the other Aeschylean plays, but with equal profundity. The development of the two parental figures, with the exaggeration of their maternal and paternal traits, sets up the mother and father of Xerxes as the balanced poles of sympathy and judgment between which historical vision must situate itself. 52 That Xerxes could be conceived as a monster is made clear by the parodos (81-85), where his attributes of power (πολύχειρ καὶ πολυναύτας) and his basilisk glare recall the terrible impression of his god-like power in the first impetus of his attack on Greece.

APPENDIX,

PLAUTUS,

CAPTIVI!

The dramatic technique of Plautus' Captivi ? is similar in a number of interesting ways to that used in the Persians. In the comedy, two youths, prisoners of war kept at the house of the old Hegio until they can be ransomed, are respectively slave and master. The slave generously offers to reverse identities so that the master Philocrates can be sent off with a ransom notice and thus escape. The deception works; but the slave left behind is later recognized and identified by a fellow prisoner, and is thus exposed to the wrath of his captor. The unmasking of the loyal slave Tyndarus must be delayed until his master can escape, but after the escape the discovery should take place as soon as possible. The other captive who will recognize Tyndarus is therefore brought in later from a second group of prisoners, who are lodged at Hegio's brother's house. Very early in the play Hegio mentions plans to visit these prisoners, to see whether they have caused any trouble during the night past (126). This reasonable, but dramaturgically quite extraneous, suggestion is simply dropped at the end of the scene, as Hegio goes back inside his house, declaring that he will visit his brother later (194).

cf.

! For bibliography on the scholarship related to Plautine inconsistencies, H. Marti, Untersuchungen zur dvamatıschen Technik bei Plautus und

Terenz

(Winterthur,

1959)

1-7.

Marti

discusses

the

Captivi

under

‘‘Motiv-

Doppelung," 36ff. For the older view, cf. J. N. Hough, “The Structure of the Captivi," AJP (1942) 26-37. Though elsewhere a defender of Plautine integrity,

H.

remarks

that,

“when

we

find,

as in the

Caft.,

inconsistencies

which affect the very heart of the intrigue... it is no betrayal of principle to ask for explanation... and if Plautine reworking [of an original Greek play] offers the best explanation, it becomes the only probable one" (26). In fact, while the existence of a previous version may lie behind such devices, the fact that a given element in a play is suggested by previous material in itself proves nothing. Marti's collection of contradictions shows that such inconsistencies are the heart of Plautine technique. ? The Caft. is—for Plautus—a static play. (Cf. the apology at the end of the prologue, 53-57.) Itlacks the numerous intrigues, crossed lines of plotting,

and contradictions of an average Plautine play, such as the Miles or Asinaria. Capt. generates sentimental interest in Tyndarus, Philocrates, and Hegio, with resulting concentration on these characters at the expense of plot complication; contrast the careless way in which characters are dropped and picked up in a play like the Mostellaria. (Cf. Marti, previous note, 73-77.)

APPENDIX, PLAUTUS’ CAPTIVI

155

After the plot is well underway, Hegio, leaving to take the assumed "slave" to the port, renews his plans for a later visit to the other prisoners, remarking, "I shall ask whether anyone knows this youth" (459). (He means, of course, Tyndarus, whom he supposes to be the master, not the real master Philocrates, who will already have left the city by the time Hegio reaches his brother's house.) The violation of normal dramaturgical motivation 15 abrupt and striking. Since Hegio is still deceived by the impostor Tyndarus, his remark can have no psychological foundation. But the illogical "explanation" is a clear statement or signal of the dramaturgical purpose of the exit, namely the introduction of a character who will unmask the disguised prisoner. The dramaturgical problem closely resembles that in the Persians ; in both plays a single occurrence is doubly motivated, and in both there is interplay between psychological coherency and the dramatic signal. Unlike Aeschylus, Plautus has placed the plausible motivation first: once it has been established that there is another set of prisoners and that Hegio may visit them, the reason for his visit—a matter of no interest to the audience—is simply dropped. The unmasking of Tyndarus is an important hinge in the plot, and Hegio's motivation in this case is not of much concern. With Aeschylus, pride of place is given to the psychologically apt motivation, in that it—and not the plot-signalling motivation—appears last, preceding the real entrance of Xerxes, and the real absence of the Queen. The Queen is exiting the second time, not to perform an important plot function as Hegio does, but precisely because her function

in the plot is at an end.

The

structural

and

drama-

turgical motivation is laid down early; and, like a delayed charge, it is triggered much later, when the exit has been remotivated in a psychologically persuasive way. The example of the Captivt has some affinities too with the motivation of the Ghost's entrance. Both the Ghost and the "unmasker" character in the Captivi are each hinges in the plot development of their plays. Each of these characters redirects

the movement of the play at a pause after the completion of its initial action—the deception of Hegio in the Plautine play, and the narration of the anxiously-awaited battle news in the Persians. In both plays, it is at this crucial juncture in the plot that an exiting character gives a signal of plot events to come, a signal that to some extent—violently in the Plautine instance—clashes

156

APPENDIX, PLAUTUS’ CAPTIVI

with psychological motivation. The Queen’s speech—along with the foreshadowing of her last exit—restates the offering motif and makes it clear that, though it has been rendered almost pointless by the progress of. events, she still intends to carry it through. Neither the Cadtivi nor the Persians is notable for dramatic movement and complexity of plot, and each moves forward in two distinct plot sequences. Taking time after the completion of the first sequence to motivate the appearance of either the “unmasker’” or the Ghost would in either case tend to emphasize in an unfortunate manner the division in the plot. To avoid this, the circumstances that will lead to these entrances of new characters are repeatedly mentioned before the events themselves can be worked into the play's temporal structure. The visit to the other prisoners, proposed very early and for an extraneous reason, is openly and arbitrarily postponed. The motif of the "offerings" is more elaborately treated: first it is delayed by the important news of the Messenger, and then it is substantially transformed into a different kind of ceremony. Both playwrights are, as T. Wilamowitz showed Sophocles to have done, using a kind of sleight of hand that depends upon the audience's passive receptivity to the play. But in both cases Plautus and Aeschylus, artists working in a more formal style that gives less scope to dramatic illusion, share with the audience the techniques through which the false reality of the play is manipulated.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

OF

WORKS

MOST

FREQUENTLY

CITED

Umberto Albini, ‘‘Lettura dei Persiani di Eschilo,”’ PP 92 (1967) 252-263. Gudmund Bjerck, Das Alpha Impurum und die

ALBINI BJ @RCK

tragisch a Kunstsprache; BROADHEAD BuRN

Uppsala, 1950. H. D. Broadhead, Cambridge, 1960. Andrew

Robert

ed.,

Burn,

Wort-

und

The

Persae

Persia

and

Stilstudien,

of Aeschylus, the Greeks;

The

Defense of the West, 546-478 B.C., London, 1962. Gone Capone, L’arte scenica degli attori tragici greci, Padua, 1935. R. D. Dawe, “Inconsistency of Plot and Character in Aeschylus," PCPhS 189 (1963) 21-62.

CAPONE DAWE

DEICHGRABER

Κ΄. Deichgráber, Die Persertetralogie des Atschylos, AAWM

DENNISTON DORNSEIFF ELSE

FRANKEL

J.

D.

1974, 4. Denniston,

The

Greek

Particles,

2nd

ed.,

Oxford, 1954. Franz Dornseiff, Pindars Stil, Berlin, 1921. Gerald F. Else, The Origin and Early Form of Greek Tragedy, Martin Classical Lectures, 20, Cambridge, Mass., 1967. Hermann Frankel, “Eine Stileigenheit der frühgriechischen Literatur,’’ GGN (1924) 63-127. Repr. in Wege und Formen frühgriechischen Denkens;

Literarische und philosophie-geschichtliche Studien, GARVIE

2nd ed. Munich, 1955. (Citations refer to the latter). A. F. Garvie, Aeschylus’ Supplices; Play and Trilogy, Cambridge, 1969.

GROENEBOOM

P.

HANDEL HOLTSMARK

HUGHES

FOWLER

JENS KORZENIEWSKI

Groeneboom,

ed.,

Aischylos’

Persae,

1930.

Repr. in translation by Helga Sönnichsen, Aischylos' Perser. Studientexte griechischer und lateinischer Schriftsteller, 3. Göttingen, 1960. (Citations refer to the latter.) Paul J. Händel, Formen- und Darstellungsweisen in der arıstophanischen Komödie, Heidelberg, 1963. Erling B. Holtsmark, Some Aspects of Style and Theme in the Persians of Aeschylus, Ph. D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1959. Barbara Hughes Fowler, ‘‘Aeschylus’ Imagery," C. & M. 27 (1970) 1-75. Walter Jens, ed., Die Bauformen der griechischen Tvagódie. Munich, 1971. Dietmar Korzeniewski, ‘Studien zu den Persern

des Aischylos," part 1, Helikon 6 (1966) 548-596; KRANZ

part 2, Helikon 7 (1967) 27-62. Walter Kranz, Stasimon; Untersuchungen zu Form und Gehalt der griechischen Tyagödie, Berlin, 1933.

158

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Jos. Lammers,

LAMMERS

antiken

Die Doppel- und Halbchóre in der

Tragödie,

Dissertation,

Münster,

1931.

LESKY

Albin Lesky, “Zur Entwicklung des Sprechverses in der Tragódie," WS 47 (1929) 1-13.

MICHELINI

NESTLE, Gno.

Ann N. Michelini,““MAKPAN TAP EEETEINAZ' Hermes 102 (1974) 524-539. Walter Nestle, review of Stasimon, Gnomon 10

NESTLE,

Die Struktur des Eingangs in der attischen Tragödie,

(1934) 404-415. Sir.

Dissertation,

Tübingen,

1927.

Denys Page, ed., Aeschyli Septem Quae Supersunt Tvagoediae, Oxford, 1972. Aurelio Peretti, Epirrema e tragedia; Studio sul dramma attico archaico, Florence, 1939.

PAGE PERETTI

Franca

PERUSINO

Perusino,

Il tetrametro

nella commedia gveca, Rome, 1968. Evangelos Petrounias,

PETROUNIAS

PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE

catalettico

giambico

Studi di metrica classica, Funktion

und

Thematik

der Bilder bet Aischylos, Hypomnemata 48, Göttingen, 1976. A. W. Pickard-Cambridge, Dithyramb, Tragedy, and Comedy, 2nd ed. revised by T. B. L. Webster, Oxford, 1962. Louis Roussel, ed., Eschyle, Les Perses; Traduction, Commentatre, Publications

ROUSSEL

SCHADEWALDT,

Mon.

SCHADEWALDT,

Uys.

2, 1926.

Wolfgang Schadewaldt, “Ursprung und frühe Entwicklung der attischen Tragödie,’ 104-147, in Wege zu Aischylos II, Hildebrecht Hommel, ed. Wege der Forschung 87. Darmstadt, 1974. A. Sidgwick, ed., Aeschylus’ Persae, Oxford, 1903. Bruno

Snell, Aischylos und das Handeln

Philologus Franz

STÖSSL

Texte, de la

Faculté des Lettres et Sciences humaines de l'Université de Montpélier, Paris, 1960. Wolfgang Schadewaldt, Monolog und Selbstgesprach; Untersuchungen zur Formgeschichte der griechischen Tvagódie, Neue Philologische Untersuch.

SIDGWICK SNELL

5,

Supplementband

Stössl,

die Perser 148-165.

“16

des

Phoinissen

Aischylos,’’

20, des

Mus

im Drama,

1928. Phrynichos

Helv

2

und

(1945)

TAPLIN

Oliver Taplin, The Stagecraft of Aeschylus, Oxford,

VAN

1978. B. A. van

GRONINGEN

Groningen,

''Vrijheid en gebondenheid

in den griekschen literairen vorm," Mededeelingen of the Nederlandsche

Akad.,

Amsterdam,

N.R.

r

(1938) 531-553. WILAMOWITZ

U.

von

Wilamowitz-Moellendorf,

A?schylos;

Inter-

pretationen, Berlin, 1914. ZIELINSKI, Glied.

Thaddeus

ZIELINSKI,

Komödie, Leipzig, 1885. Thaddeus Zielinski, Tragoedumenon; Libri Tres. I, “De Locis Tragoediae Graecae Rudimentalibus, ”’

vag.

Cracow,

Zielinski, Die Gliederung dev altattischen

1925.

REFERENCES

TO

AESCHYLEAN

PLAYS

Persians, lines cited: 1-139: 66n, 77ff., 84, 88, 92; 140-149: 42; 42ff., 46n, 140; 159-175: 43, 61, 82n, 88ff., 100, 148, 150ff.; 82ff.,

1ooff.,

132;

213:

92,

128,

140;

215-225:

39,

57,

62ff.,

150-156: 176-212: 66n,

104;

230-248: 36ff., 92, 104; 256-289: 30, 94n; 290-298: 2off., 33n, 68n, 104, 107, 125, 140; 300-301: 92, 143; 302-330: 105ff., 124, 125; 331-352: 35ff., 88,

g2ff.,

106ff.,

125,

128,

Appendix;

353-407:

100ff.,

149;

408-432:

93Íf., 112; 432-446: 35ff., 11ff.; 472-479: 27n; 480-507: 113ff.; 510: 136; 515-516: 29; 517-528: 27n, 66n, 129n, 131ff.; 529-531: 73ff., 141; 598618: 116ff.; 620-622: 132; 623-632: 132; 656ff.: 79; 681-693: 31, Ooff., 146, 147; 694-696: 31; 698-699: 32, 44; 700-702: 32ff., 120; 715-736:

37ff., 59n, 83ff., 91, 145; 739-752: O1ff., 85, 1441f., 149; 753-758: 117, 150ff.; 759-786: 14n, 117ff., 146, 152; 787-799: 29, 35ff., 45, 94, 119, 123, 125; 800-804: 145, 148; 805-831: 96ff., ı20ff., 144ff., 148; 832-838: 136; 640-642: 147; 845-851: 136ff., 141; 926-927: 97; 976-977: 80; 986ff.: 136; 1035: 97 Suppliants, dating of: 3ff., 6, 9, 17n other: 7ff., 18, 34, 57n, 59n, 71, 76n, 77, 130 lines cited: 86ff.: 79n; 249-273: 15nn, 100; 277ff.: 60n; 323-324: 37n,

38; 4o7ff.: 60n; 442:

119n; 454: 103n; 455ff.: 35n; 469ff.: 87, 93;

625ff.: 50n; 9o2ff.: 18; 980-1013: 123; 994: 58 Seven Against Thebes: 8, 36, 43, 45, 59n, 75, 76ff., 124n, 13In, 133 lines cited: 1-38: 116n, 123; 187-195: 14n; 203ff.: 8n; 266-279: 14n; 375-676: 29n, 100; 599-608: 150n; 677ff.: 38; 683ff.: 8n; 848-860: 56n Oresteia,

general:

5, 15, 22n,

28n,

34,

35n,

36,

59,

67.

77

Agamemnon, similarity of Pe. to: 72ff., 121 other:

19,

28n,

59n,

7I,

95,

130,

142,

149

lines cited: 6: 69; 121: 103; 217: 103; 274-277: 73n; 26r1ff.: 15n, 99n, IOO, 106, 113; 361: 78n; 538ff.: 35n; 551-579: 14n; 636-649: 116n; 725: 95n; 771ff.: 95n; 810-974: 14n, 29n, 116n; 829: 15n; 855ff.: 104n; 903: 42n; 926: 15n; roorff.: 95n; 1035ff.: 37n; 1202ff.: 35n; 1296:15n; 1342-1346: 49ff.; 1348ff.: 56ff.; 1612ff.: 36ff.; 1649ff.: 46, 47n, 48 Libation Bearers: 21, 28n, 36n, 59n, 132n, 137n lines cited: 269/f.: 105n; 479: 37n; 497ff.: 37n; 514ff.: 60n; 554: 116n; 674ff.: 116n; 734ff.: 116n; 876: 42n; 894: 118n Eumenides: 18, 36n, 39, 57n, 59n lines cited: 1-63: 100, 105n; 179ff.: 60n; 244-253: 39n, 56ff.; 298-306: 39n, 56ff.; 306: 85n; 415: 32n; 584ff.: 32n, 38; 652ff.: 38n; 707ff.: 15n Prometheus Bound: 26n, 36n, 114n lines cited: 437: 30n; 700ff.: 15n; 1078: 78n Isthmiastai: 50 Fr. 301M: 78 Fr. 530M: 101

GENERAL actors,

number

of: cf. single-actor

tragedy; second actor actor, function of: 67, 69, 103ff., 127, 139 advice, motif of: 103, 130, 144, 148 Agathon: 19n

Alkaios: off. Alkman: 9 alpha impurum: 7, 16, 57 anapaests, general: 47, 57ff., 64, 100,

132, 148

©

in relation to trochaics: 42, 43, 48,

53, 57, 63, 70, 74 of parodos:

dy:

archaic style: 13, 53, 138, 152 Archilochos: 9, Iıff.,

70,

127,

41,

56n,

86n

Aristophanes and Old Comedy,

for-

malism in: 23ff., 52 tetrameter in: I.3.C, passim various plays: 23n, 51}, 52,

129,

Frogs: 32n; Clouds: 52; Ach.: 52n

21n,

32n

audience, relation of playwright 8, 20, 24, 70 11, 68,

to:

149

brevity, cf. length and extension Cassius Dio: 81n catalogues, in drama: 99; IT.3, passim in other literature: 15, 80

geographical: 100, 114ff., 124ff. character portrayal, cf. psychology chorus, in tragedy; active, in Aeschylus: 5, 28, 29, 34ff., 52, 69 as a character: 120, 141, 148

juxtaposed

to actor:

17, 28,

31,

40, 63, 66, 69, 70 prophetic ability of: 66n, 71

comedy, cf. Aristophanes Dareios; trance:

ghostly 143-147

personality,

en-

as antecedent to trage-

3, 6, 25

elegiac couplet: epeisodos: 16ff., epic, as genre: elements of, QI, 105

epirrhema 53n

Aristotle; Poetics, 1449a: 3, 5, 6, 18, 25, 41n other: 5, zın, 24, 41ff., 63, 64n ἄτη: 78ff., 87, 95ff., 151 Atossa, name of Queen: 27n cf. Queen

Bacchylides:

relation to Queen: 143, 146, 152ff. role as a prophet: 76, 124, 126, I44ff. substituted for Xerxes: 73ff., 134, I37Íf., Appendix dialectal variation, cf. alpha impuvum dialogue; irregular or formal, in trimeter: 33-40 separation from narrative: 45, 59, 66ff., 100, 103ff. association of tetrameter with, cf. tetrameter

dithyramb,

77, 80, 105, 124

ἀντιλαβη: 48ff.

Athenaeus:

INDEX

and

12 99 II, 15, 77 in trimeter:

epirrhematic

ges, in tragedy:

14,

15n,

passa-

7ff., 24, 29, 3off.,

34, 36, 43, 45, 120

in comedy:

5n, 51ff.

ἐτυμολογία: 82 euphemism: 103 Euripides, later lyrics of: 10, 19 tetrameters in : 37n, 46ff. other:

20,

21,

28n,

38,

39,

57,

67,

104n, IO7n, 125 various plays: 23n, 39n, 47n, 48n, 49n, 570 El.: 22n; Hek.: 147n; I.A.: 46; Or.: 19n, 46n; Phoin.: Frankel, H.: 9, 10, 12ff., 20

το,

19

genre: 8, 56n cf. lyric; prose; epic geographical speeches, cf. catalogues Glaukos of Rhegion: ı29n

gnomic material, cf. tetrameter Hekataios: ızn Hellanikos: 75 Herodotos, treatment of Xerxes’ invasion in: 75, 81ff., 85ff., 91, 95 other: 30, 31n, 80n, 132n Hesiod: 86n, roin historical drama, special qualities of: ix, 75, 108, 115, 119, 138, 147n, 153

GENERAL

Homer,

prose, generic form: πρόσφθογγος: 42

Iliad: 87n, 91n, 94n

Odyssey: 86n, 88n, 89n

psychology

iambic tetrameter: 51, 53 iambos: 8, 11n, I2n illusion, dramatic: 66ff., 7ıff., 127ff., 135, 139, 145ff.

impiety

of Persians:

161

INDEX

30,

113,

72,

Iıff.,

55

of dramatic characters: 107,

120,

128,

133,

138;

139-153, passim cf. Queen;

Queen,

115, 121ff.

7,

Dareios;

Xerxes

exits of: 28ff., 73, 116, 124,

“Tonic” poetry: 7

128,

Isocrates:

function in play: 27ff., 34, 73, 139,

21n,

82n

Kallimachos: ıın kennings: 106, 116 Kranz,

W.;

on

early

tra-

gedy: 3, 6, 24 other: IO, I9n, 142 length and extension, versus brevity:

15, 26, 39, 44, 59, 104ff. lineverse; meter

lyric,

zambos;

balance

with

trimeter;

tetra-

64

contrast with lineverse:

16, 33ff.,

44, 54, 66, 97 in the

Pe.,

weakness

76ff.;

of:

28n;

125

W.:

of:

77,

44,

106ff.,

III,

113,

passim;

115,

97,

139,

152

cf. ring-style Phrynichos: 129ff. Pindar: ıoff., 84n, ııın Plato Com.: 23n Plautus: 54, 137n, Appendix

statistics on: 59, 99n other: 5, 14, 25, 32n, 43ff., 52, 53, 50ff.,

35ff., 40, 68; II.3,

passim cf. length

and

extension;

trimeter

ring-style composition; recapitulation of theme in, as mark of closure: 96, 105, 113, 138, 145 other: 13ff., 59, 70ff., 109ff., 112,

sacrifice, motif of: 103, 116ff., 120ff., 138

πλοῦτος (ὄλβος): 61, Plutarch: 31n, 56n Pollux: 32n

27, 64

function of: 17ff., 25, 20, 33ff., 37 cf. single-actor tragedy Semonides: 86n

84, 88ff.,

Polybios: 81 μηχανῇ: 84, 86, r15n

43 single-actor 34n,

67,

tragedy: 72,

103,

16ff.,

23,

27,

138

Solon: 9, 13ff., 41, 60, 84n, 85 Sophocles: 20ff., 28, 36n, 38, 39n, 57, 97, 104n, 107N, 133, 138, 145

various plays: 47n, 49n, 57n, 68n,

plot structure: 71ff.; II.4, passim

πόρος,

cf. sacrifices, motif of rejected alternative, cf. Zielinski ῥεῦμα: γᾶ, 88, 93

senarius, diverbia: 5411. silence, for dramatic effect: 29ff., 34,

4ff., 57

παρακαταλογή: 56n paratactic style: Il.ı, 1o5ff.,

cf. Xerxes cf. Dareios

Sappho: off.

142

Nestle,

relation to Xerxes, relation to Dareios,

sea: II.2, esp. 84ff.; 120, 124 second actor, introduction of: 16ff.,

πόρος 47n role, importance 126, 139

cf. actor, function of mourning, theme of: 32,

135,

Appendix

1I4, 118, 122, 126, 147 Roman theater, cf. Plautus

cf. epirrhema II.2, esp. Lysias: 82n μηχανῇ: cf. Menander: messenger 67ff., 76,

152,

rhesis, long trimeter speech; elaborate opening in: 1ooff., 116ff., 125

lyric genre, characteristics of: 7, 8, IOff., 15, 30, 58n in tragedy: 4, 16, 70, 8o balance with lineverse: 18ff., 24,

lyrics

138,

153

theories

cf. rhesis lineverse: cf.

134ff.,

1501.

71D, Aias:

137 r5n,

38n,

111n;

Ant.:

86;

El.: 22n; O.T.: 46, 48, 7off.; O.C.: 28n, 39n, 118n; Phil.: 48n; Polyxene: 147n; Tvach.: 138; Tviptolemos: 114n stichomythy, quality and function

162

GENERAL

of: 8, 40, 59, 85, 104, 144

Theognis: 150n Theophrastos: 96, 97n

chorus in: 32, 35ff. in Pe.: 4311.

Thespis, cf. Themistios

listed, for Aesch. plays: 59n other:

Thucydides: 31n, 75, 81, 107n Timotheos: Io, orn

49, 52, 60

tradition in literature: 8, 20ff., 47, 67

cf. tetrameter σύντομος: 38, 44

tragedy,

suspense, absence of: 7off.

16ff.,

tetrameter, trochaic; association with excitement: 46n, 50n association

with

movement: 55Íf., 64

I2,

running,

4ıff.,

dance,

46ff.,

53,

24, 37ff., 41ff., 46ff., 50, 50ff., 70, 98; 11.3, passim

55,

in other poetry: 12, cf. Appendix in comedy: 1.3.C, passim interpretive or gnomic quality of: 44, 6ıff., 88ff., 104, 122ff. mediating between lyric and trimeter: 58, 63, 76, 104 music with: 47n, 54ff., 64, 104 numbers of in various plays: 46nn stichomythy and dialogue in: 3,

32, 37, 48, 64, ΟἹ, 117, 146, 149 and

staging:

dual 20ff.,

form 24,

25,

of:

3ff.,

30,

5,

8,

70

theories of early: 3ff. trimeter, iambic; in tragedy: 3, 5, 8, I4Íf., 53ff., 63, 104 in comedy: 52

in iambic poets: r2ff., 41

contrast with trimeter, in tragedy:

theater

INDEX

16n,

22n,

69,

71, 128ff.

themes, major (πλῆθος, ζυγόν) : II.2, passim; 74, 115, 121 light and dark: 62, goff., rooff., 115ff. Xerxes and the army: 83, 86, gıff., 103n, 109 Themistios, quoting Aristotle on Thespis: 5, 13, 25

emotional ‘‘coldness’’ of: I5, 45, 59, 68, 106ff., 120, 124 unsuitable meter for chorus: 38ff., 5211. cf. length and extension;

rhesis

ὕβρις: 84, 87, o5ff., 121ff., 140ff. Wilamowitz, T.: 133, 137ff. Xenophon: 48n, 82n Xerxes, errors and youth: 44, orff., 85, 121, 1491]. contrast with Dareios: 74, 83, IO2Íf.

motivation of: 117, 1491]. promised arrival of: 73ff. relation to Queen: 92, 136ff., I40Íf., 153 Zielinski, T.; meters in comedy: 5, 5ID, 53n change in poetic tradition; alternate version, rejected alternative: 21ff., 25, 29, 33ff., 43n, 70, 73, 131, 137ff.