§ 2. Tragic Influences in Sculpture.
1. Greek Sculpture.
One does not expect the sculptor’s notions to be largely shaped by a definite situation in literature, as he has little to do with illustration; his art is too severe and confined to reproduce the dramatic and pathetic with great success. There is accordingly little direct influence of the Greek tragic literature over ancient sculpture except on the sarcophagi. Of the monuments belonging to the fifth century B.C., which owe their existence indirectly to the drama, three reliefs occupy the foremost place. These are the well-known Orpheus[[1]], Peliades[[2]], and Peirithoös[[3]] reliefs, all of which belong close to the time of the Parthenon frieze. Reisch has made it clear that these works were conceived and carried out in the spirit of the tragic drama[[4]]. They are claimed, indeed, as dedicatory offerings in memory of particular tragic exhibitions, but no attempt is made to name any poet or tragedy with which they were connected. Whether one is correct in holding these reliefs as ἀναθήματα, certain it is that in every particular they breathe forth the spirit of tragedy. The triple group in each has been pointed out as corresponding to the three actors. This, however, is an outer sign that might serve to indicate their origin. The relation of the figures to each other—the conflict of soul which one may observe—the pathos that pervades the groups—these are so unlike anything that occurs on the earlier monuments that a person involuntarily asks himself whence the artists received their motives. Tragedy provides the answer. The parting scene between Alkestis and Admetos which Euripides describes so beautifully belongs to the same decade as does the Orpheus relief. This touching episode may well have been the incentive to some such work as the parting between Orpheus and Eurydike. In all three instances the sculptor was at any rate occupied with the problems which concerned the tragic poet, and he reproduced true echoes of dramatic situations.
Related to these reliefs is another class of monuments which grew out of the tragic performances. From the middle of the fifth century B.C.[[5]] till at least the close of the third century B.C.[[6]] it was customary for the successful choregos to dedicate the tripod that the state had given him as a prize. The magnificence and elaborateness accompanying this ceremony can be learned from the still extant Lysikrates monument upon which the tripod once stood and on the intercolumniations of which tripods in relief are represented. A street in Athens was given over to the exposition of these prizes. Pausanias states that they were of bronze and stood on temples[[7]]. More important still for us in this connexion is the fact that together with the tripod, probably under the kettle, it was the custom to set up a figure of a satyr or Dionysos or Nike[[8]]. This practice does not appear to have been older than the time of Praxiteles. So it is that one learns of his famous satyr which Pausanias mentions in connexion with one of the tripods[[9]]. The Greek of this passage does not admit of a satisfactory interpretation, and it is not possible therefore to determine what the attitude of the figure was. It is probable that the statue which was thus intimately associated with the Dionysiac performances was the περιβόητος satyr of Praxiteles, existing in so many copies and known throughout English literature as the ‘Marble Faun.’ One can easily understand that this class of choregic monuments was alone of great importance, and that through this channel the tragic performances worked a wide influence over sculpture. There was a vast number of statues in bronze and marble that thus arose from the exigencies of the theatre. Along with these works may be classed the numerous pieces of sculpture that were put up as decorations for the theatre. Such were the εἰκόνες mentioned by Pausanias as being in the Dionysiac theatre at Athens. The periegete names the statues of Aischylos, Sophokles, Euripides, and Menander[[10]].
A large number of reliefs that represent Dionysos receiving the worship of mortals, or advancing in a train of satyrs before a man lying on a couch, makes up another class of sculpture, which probably owed its origin to the drama. On the Peiraieus[[11]] relief three persons carrying tragic masks advance before the god who reclines upon a kline. The work may possibly be dated as early as the close of the fifth century B.C.[[12]] It is at any rate an early example of the influence of the tragic muse upon sculpture. The so-called Ikarios reliefs illustrating Dionysos’ first appearance in Attica, and the consequent origin of tragedy, may not refer to Ikarios at all, but are nevertheless to be linked to tragedy in some way, as the masks clearly show[[13]]. They may have been purely decorative work, or were perhaps offerings of actors.
It remains to speak of a few monuments which seem to have been more directly under the influence of particular tragedies. One hears, for example, that the sculptor Seilanion made a ‘Dying Iokaste.’[[14]] This notion would appear to have been borrowed from some play. One may think of the Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophokles or the Phoinissai of Euripides. Of far greater importance is the relief on one of the columns from Ephesos which is known to every one[[15]]. The most satisfactory interpretation of this work so far offered explains the scene as Alkestis being delivered from Death. The heroine, rescued from Thanatos by Hermes, is being conducted to the upper world again. Unfortunately there is no agreement among archaeologists on this explanation[[16]]. Until a better one is brought forward, however, this important monument may be held as evidence for the influence exerted by Euripides’ handling of this popular myth. The Alkestis is known to have been exceptionally well received.
If tragic influences are only possibly at hand in the fragment from Ephesos, the excavations at Pergamon have brought to light extensive remains of reliefs that were inspired by Attic tragedy. The Telephos frieze, now in Berlin, is directly associated with the drama. The mythic founder of Pergamon had a long and varied career, which was told in dramatic form by both Sophokles and Euripides. The suggestions for the reliefs in question came from the Auge and Telephos of the latter, and the Mysoi of the former[[17]]. In these fragments one can see distinctly the high esteem in which the Attic drama was held at the court of the Attalidai. I know of no Greek sculpture which comes so near being an illustration of tragedy as does this frieze.
Another work of monumental greatness belonging to about the same period and exhibiting unmistakable signs of tragic influence is the Farnese Bull in the National Museum in Naples[[18]]. This colossal group, which represents Dirke being tied to a rampant bull by Amphion and Zethos, the sons of Antiope, is characterized by a passion and violence that are late products in Greek sculpture. Such motives made their appearance first in the fourth century B.C. Niobe and her children are the earliest representation on a grand scale of these elements that are so akin to the drama. Such compositions were first possible with Praxiteles and Skopas who broke away from the traditions of the Pheidian age. The generation that saw a new type of Dionysos and of Aphrodite, and could appreciate the frenzied maenad of Skopas, had been prepared for these new motives very largely through the theatre. The drama had not a little to do with impressing the artist and his public with the importance of delineating the human feelings. In the case of the Niobe group one would not attempt to point out any special influence of the Niobe of Aischylos or Sophokles, and still there is little doubt in my own mind that the sculptor was more or less influenced by the tragic literature. May not Praxiteles or Skopas, each of whom shares the credit of the Niobe group, have been led to the pathetic look upon the mother’s face by the lines of one of these lost plays? This new tendency in sculpture reached its highest expression in the Laokoön and the Farnese Bull. The latter can be traced to the influence of Euripides’ Antiope, which appears to have been the source of all Dirke monuments in ancient art; there is no dissenting voice as to Euripides’ right to occupy the honourable position thus assigned[[19]] him. Reference has already been made to the Laokoön[[20]] as representing the culmination of tragedy in marble. The view held by Lessing and many others that Virgil was the sculptors’ authority has been abandoned long since. The Pergamon altar frieze has enabled us to fix the date of the Laokoön with approximate correctness. It is surely some centuries older than the Aeneid and stands therefore in a possible relation to the Laokoön of Sophokles. Yet here again opinions vary widely. Sophokles’ play is lost, and the few remaining fragments are not enough to enable one to make a satisfactory reconstruction. The story came down from the epic literature, and, like so many incidents in the fall of Troy, needed no further popularization in order to appeal to the artist. That Sophokles’ tragedy, however, was wholly without any influence on the Rhodian sculptors who so tragically and realistically represented Apollo’s vengeance on his priest seems to me highly improbable. Such a conception as found expression in this masterpiece of sculpture may well have sprung from the masterpiece in poetry which was at hand in Sophokles’ Laokoön[[21]].
2. The Etruscan Ash-urns.
The reliefs on the Etruscan and Roman sarcophagi carry us to Italian soil and furnish us with a much larger field for pursuing our subject than could be found in Greek sculpture. Of all the Italian races with whom the Greeks came into contact, the Etrurians were by far the most advanced in civilization; and during the centuries of active commercial relations between the two peoples this nation, whose origin is the puzzle of historians, and whose language is the crux of philologists, came more under the influence of Greek literature and art than any of the Latin races that remained unhellenized. They have left abundant evidence of these hellenizing influences. In various classes of monuments which may still be studied—urns, mirrors, cistae, tomb-paintings, and vases—one discovers Greek mythology and poetry. The national mythology of the Etruscans is so much of an exception in their art, and the Greek is so universally adopted, that one is at a loss to account for the strange fact. On hundreds of Etruscan monuments one sees the workings of Greek poetry, which found its way into Etruria before Livius Andronicus produced the first tragedy in Rome 240 B.C. That the Greek drama was introduced for the most part directly and not through the medium of the early Latin tragedians, is shown by the fact that the latter flourished in the second and first centuries B.C., while the urns exhibiting tragic subjects are, for the most part, from the third century B.C. Some may, indeed, date from the fourth century. Roman tragedy can not be said to have really become at all a matter of general interest before Ennius went to Rome in 204 B.C. He died 169 B.C., and one should not think that the influence of these Latin adaptations and translations of Greek plays took an immediate hold upon the neighbouring Etruscans. Such elements percolate gradually into the various strata of national life, to say nothing of the time required to reach a foreign people whose language and customs are so different. But the summus epicus poeta[[22]] was not the most popular or most prolific pilferer of Greek plays. His tragedies numbered only about twenty. In Accio circaque eum Romana tragoedia est[[23]]; and the probable truth of this statement is well attested by the list of fifty plays that have come down to us under Accius’ name. This poet, however, was born 170 B.C. and first exhibited tragedies in 140 B.C. It is therefore very doubtful whether one can rightly speak of the influence of Latin tragedy upon the Etruscan artists. One dare not, at any rate, bring the ash-urns too far into the second century B.C., as Brunn and those immediately under his teaching formerly did. More recent investigations have proved the chronological impossibility of interpreting these reliefs with the help of Ennius, Accius, and Pacuvius.
Without taking time and space to review the arguments on which the interpretations of the reliefs are based it will be enough for my purpose to simply add a list of the scenes which one may reasonably refer to Greek tragedy. Examining the first volume of Brunn’s I rilievi delle urne etrusche, which is devoted to urns with scenes from the Trojan Cycle, one learns that those presenting a version of the stories ascribable to the tragic poets exceed those that are based on the Iliad, Odyssey, and other epics. The representation of Paris’ return to his Trojan home is, with one exception[[24]], the most frequent. The thirty-four reliefs were referred, even in the time of the former late dating, to Euripides’ Ἀλέξανδρος[[25]]. The fate of Telephos was, according to Aristotle, a common subject for a tragedy[[26]]. We have already met the story on the Pergamon frieze, and it is very frequent on the Etruscan urns. Telephos grasps the young Orestes and threatens his life on the altar after the manner of the drama. It may be the influence of Aischylos or Euripides, but if one judges from the comparative popularity of these poets in this period he would be inclined to assign the first place to the latter[[27]]. The offering of Iphigeneia occurs on twenty-six urns, nearly all of which were found in the vicinity of Perugia[[28]]. It was again unquestionably Greek tragedy that was the incentive for these scenes. Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides may all share the credit of having furnished the literary source. A smaller series of urns representing Odysseus’ adventure in taking Philoktetes from Lemnos is also to be placed under the influence of the fifth century tragedy[[29]]. The δόλιος Ὀδυσσεύς is seen playing his part as cleverly as he does in the extant play of Sophokles. The attitude of Philoktetes standing before Neoptolemos, having in two cases the arrow in his hand, corresponds well to the character drawn by this poet. The injured chieftain displays his courage and scoffs at the thought of being carried away by the detested Odysseus. The murder of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra represented on seventeen urns has been shown by Schlie to be essentially Euripidean[[30]]. The arrival of Orestes and Pylades at the precinct of the Tauric Artemis is possibly the subject of three reliefs[[31]]. This would also take one directly to Euripides[[32]]. The following are published in the second volume of the Urne etrusche by Körte. Medeia escapes on her dragon-chariot, driving over the bodies of her children[[33]]—an echo of the great tragedy that exercised so wide an influence in other fields of art[[34]]. The punishment of Dirke on four reliefs is based without question on the Antiope of Euripides[[35]]. The blinding of Oedipus at the hands of Laios’ sons seems to have been an invention of the same poet and is recognized in another relief[[36]]. The Theban fratricide and the assault on the city were both much-prized subjects[[37]]. Körte points out many features common to the numerous reliefs and the Phoinissai of Euripides[[38]]. The death of Alkmene is represented on five urns which one would associate with the Alkmene of the same poet[[39]]. Euripides’ Κρῆτες is traceable on seven reliefs, showing the legend of Daidalos and Pasiphaë[[40]]. Theseus’ fight with the Minotaur occurs four times and reminds us of Euripides’ Theseus[[41]]. The death of Hippolytos on eight reliefs does not present any essential variation from the extant Greek tragedy[[42]]. Perseus and Andromeda are met with likewise and emphasize the wide popularity of Euripides’ play[[43]]. The famous legend of Oinomaos’ death and Pelops’ triumph occurs on thirty-one urns[[44]]. It can be shown that these were inspired by one or more of the lost tragedies that dealt with the subject[[45]]. The Μελέαγρος of Euripides appears to have been the source of at least three of the many reliefs representing the Kalydonian Hunt[[46]]. To this long list of urns based on Euripidean tragedies one must still add seven that were probably inspired by this poet’s Μελανίππη ἡ σοψή and three more that follow his Μελανίππη ἡ δεσμῶτις[[47]].
More than two-thirds of the more than four hundred Etruscan urns examined are decorated with sculpture based on Greek tragedy, and in nearly all instances the drama was Euripidean. Such are the instructive facts regarding this important class of monuments.
3. Roman Sarcophagi.
Under the expression ‘Roman sarcophagi’ one understands those of the first and second centuries A.D. unless the expression is further qualified. Sarcophagi from the time of the Republic are very rare and they are withal modest in their workmanship. The florid decorations of the time of the Empire, and especially of the period just noted, are often of secondary interest, but the reliefs on the sarcophagi are for the most part of prime importance, as furnishing reminiscences of lost tragedies and ancient paintings of great renown. The majority are copies of very ordinary merit, while now and then a sarcophagus relief is not unworthy a Greek artist of the fourth century B.C.
It is a commonly known fact that long before the Laokoön, or the Farnese Bull, or the Apollo Belvidere was unearthed in the sixteenth and fifteenth centuries—long before the classical antiquities of Rome, Florence, and Naples had attracted students and lovers of art—the sculptures of these sarcophagi, scattered about in cathedrals and palaces, had begun to teach the Italian artist what the human figure really is, and what composition and decoration should be. The Renaissance artist first learned the charm and simplicity of the ancient costume from these marbles and perceived how vastly superior this was to the heavy, conventional church-dress that concealed the outlines of the form and rendered grace and beauty impossible. The study of the antique, we have reason to believe, was in the early Renaissance largely a study of these Roman sarcophagi.
There is no need of going into detail. It will be enough to hint at the most important monuments of this class that stand under the influence of Greek tragedy. Whether they are a direct product of the Greek plays or are founded on the Latin translations, or whether they represent copies of Greek paintings based on Greek tragedy—this is for the present purpose all one and the same. It is not necessary to determine whence the incentive came. The important fact for one to grasp first is, that a surprisingly large number of the reliefs owe their existence to the tragic drama, and that these sculptures should be brought into one’s study of the tragic poets[[48]].
The series of reliefs illustrating Euripides’ Alkestis is of prime importance for one who wishes to see in art a scene worthy of the poet[[49]]. The touching farewell of Alkestis as she reclines upon her death-bed is in each instance the centre of the groups on the long side. Around her gathers the whole family. The children draw up close to their mother’s side. Her parents are also present, and this lends more interest to the sight, for they could scarcely be absent although the poet does not mention them in this connexion. The last words of Alkestis, and Admetos’ reply, form the real charm of the play. All else falls far behind these speeches, and following one of the gems in Greek literature the artist could afford to assign his illustration the first place on the reliefs. Arranged on either side are the other incidents of the drama, following the poet with considerable faithfulness. In this connexion should be mentioned the relief in Florence, also based upon the same source[[50]].
The Hippolytos sarcophagi are, so far as I know, the most numerous of those that are dependent upon tragedy. If we possess more than a score, either entire or in fragments, after the destructive elements have been at work on them since antiquity, there is reason to believe that many times this number were once in existence. Copies were made in large numbers, and many a Roman was laid to rest behind the tragedy in marble which in the Hippolytos of Euripides has continued with some interruptions to move the sympathies of the civilized world for more than two thousand years. The reliefs are in the main faithful illustrations of Euripides. One or two situations are foreign to him, and these would suggest the influence of a Roman poet. It is unnecessary to do more here than to refer to the following chapter, where the whole question finds a further discussion[[51]].
‘The Orestes myth appears upon the sarcophagi exclusively in the form given to it by the Attic drama. The first part—the slaying of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra—follows the Oresteia of Aischylos. The second part—the meeting of Iphigeneia and Orestes and the rape of the Tauric idol—is based upon the Iphigeneia in Tauris of Euripides.’[[52]] One exception only is noted and this appears to represent the influence of a later play which handled the subject of the Oresteia[[53]]. The scenes on the other sarcophagi are indeed illustrations of Aischylos. In each case the final moment of the Choephoroi, when the Furies rush in upon the murderer, guilty of a mother’s blood, is chosen for the middle group. Right and left from this the succeeding events are arranged. The right end scene invariably represents Orestes as he is about to escape from the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi and go to Athens. He picks his way with circumspection over the sleeping Furies, and one is led up to the triumphal verdict of the Eumenides[[54]]. Robert has shown very clearly the relation of these sculptures to Aischylos’ words, and it is enough to refer to his discussion.
The Iphigeneia-Orestes sarcophagi breathe from first to last the spirit of Euripides. A study of them is scarcely less instructive than a reading of the play. Step by step the story is unfolded. Orestes and Pylades are taken captives and stand before the priestess, whose dreadful office is made more horrible by the remains of human sacrifices that are fastened up around the sanctuary; the recognition scene with the letter follows. Then Iphigeneia appears with the idol in her arms, and asks Thoas’ permission to go and purify it in the sea. The two Greeks stand bound, ready to follow her, and last of all comes the mêlée at the ship. One after another of the barbarians is laid low by the strong arms of Orestes and Pylades. Iphigeneia is placed safely aboard with the image, and one sees the beginning of the homeward journey that closed the history of the house of Atreus[[55]].
The Euripidean Medeia is discussed at length in another place, and I have pointed out there the part that the sarcophagi occupy in art representations of the tragedy[[56]]. The two extremes of touching tenderness and violent passion, which no one ever combined more successfully in one character than did Euripides in his Medeia, come prominently to the foreground in these reliefs. I know of no monuments of ancient art that grasp the spirit of a Greek tragedy more effectually than the Medeia sarcophagi. The strange and secret power of the sorceress hovers over and pervades the whole. The dreadful vengeance exacted by the slighted queen is shown in the most graphic manner. Standing before the Berlin replica, which is the best preserved and most beautiful of all the sculptures, one cannot but feel that he is face to face with a marvellous illustration of the great tragedy. The marble all but breathes; the dragons of Medeia’s chariot may be heard to hiss.
A small number of other monuments of this class belongs to the ‘Seven against Thebes,’ and, as in the case of the Etruscan urns, the Phoinissai of Euripides is the main source of the illustrations. Perhaps Seneca’s Phoenissae also entered into the work. Robert conjectures that Euripides’ Oedipus may have furnished suggestions for parts of the scenes[[57]].
The Philoktetes of Sophokles is illustrated on one relief very much in the manner of the Etruscan urns already referred to. The wounded Philoktetes stands at the mouth of the cave and speaks to Neoptolemos on the right. Odysseus keeps safely out of sight on the left[[58]].
The story of Pasiphaë’s unholy love is told on a fragment of a sarcophagus in the Louvre[[59]]; Daidalos and his cunning work play the leading part. The ultimate literary authority was Euripides’ Κρῆτες. The latter may not have been used directly, as the myth enjoyed after this play a continuous popularity. The relief on one end represents a fruit offering, and as this would agree with the vegetarian vow of the chorus, Robert prefers to recognize a direct connexion with Euripides[[60]].
Mention may be made lastly of the Meleager sarcophagi, which, like the Etruscan urns, have much in common with Euripides’ Μελέαγρος[[61]].