From these elements the vase painter selected the murder scene, which, not being described by Euripides, could be represented in any manner that struck his fancy. He made this the centre about which all else was grouped; all eyes are turned upon Medeia and the altar. In this disposition of the matter other details had to be sacrificed. The chariot, which could not be wanting, had to have a charioteer, and as Medeia was not ready to mount it herself, the personification of the Medeia-spirit is the natural figure that the artist would select. Jason, again, to omit whom would have been unpardonable, had to be painted in the act of rescuing or attempting the rescue of his sons. So we see that the three moments discernible in the poet, (a) the murder, (b) Jason’s appearance to save the boys, (c) the chariot and the escape of Medeia, are all worked together by the artist into a strong complex. One feels no incongruity in the picture, and is forced to agree to a large amount of success that the artist has enjoyed here. Since the pedagogue appears in the scene above, the artist uses one of the ever convenient doryphoroi as a companion to the boys or rather as rescuer of one of them[[294]]. It is immaterial whether the painter intended to represent the one boy as actually out of danger or not. A great many useless words have been spent in trying to show that the vase painter has here followed a tradition referred to by Diodorus Siculus[[295]], who relates that one child escaped—πλὴν γὰρ ἑνὸς τοῦ διαφυγόντος τοὺς ἄλλους υἱοὺς ἀποσφάξαι. This is not only highly improbable[[296]], but, more than that, speaks for a superficial reading of Diodorus on the part of those who use this quotation. It appears that nothing more of the chapter had been read than it was necessary to quote. In the first place, what can τοὺς ἄλλους above refer to if not to more than one, and therefore to at least two? But where upon our vase or upon any other monument does Medeia appear with three children[[297]]? It would seem, therefore, that, because the vase painter drew the scene as he did, this very inapt quotation is brought out to bolster up an unnecessary theory.
Is it necessary to conclude with numerous scholars that Oistros upon the chariot represents one of Pollux’s ἔκσκευα πρόσωπα (iv. 141)? Does our painting necessarily go back to some tragedy in which the personification, Oistros, appears before the audience as Medeia’s charioteer? It has already been pointed out that the moment which the vase painter chose to represent never was visible in the theatre of Euripides. What happened before the palace doors were unbarred, in v. 1314, could be painted in a hundred different ways, and still be inspired by the poet from v. 1271 to v. 1316. It is true that Euripides does not mention Οἶστρος, much less as Medeia’s charioteer. What need had he to introduce any personification of her rage and fury to guide the chariot, when, at the first glimpse of it in v. 1317, Medeia manages it herself? Any one who thoroughly works himself into the situation that the painter has shown upon the vase cannot help seeing that Medeia’s double, her burning and infuriated barbarian wildness, the spirit shown in vs. 1236–1250, was a natural and easy subject for embodiment under the name Οἶστρος. This personification is not met with in Euripides, and has naturally caused much stumbling. It should, however, be compared with Λύσσα, with which it has much in common. Orestes says to Pylades, μὴ θεαί (i. e. the Furies) μ’ οἴστρω κατασχῶς’[[298]], and two verses further on, εὐλαβοῦ Λύσσης μετασχεῖν τῆς ἐμῆς. Thus the use of the οἶστρος caused Λύσσα. The step to the personification of a figure Oistros would easily follow from some such development as this, and I hold both words to cover the cause and effect in the case mentioned.
As Lyssa was a favourite figure with Euripides, we may examine still another place where the rôle that she plays is much the same as that which Oistros takes in the painting.
In Her. Fur. vs. 880 ff., the chorus describes Lyssa as travelling upon a chariot[[299]].
βέβακεν ἐν δίφροισιν ἁ πολύστονος,
ἅρμασι δ’ ἐνδίδωσι κέντρον ὡς ἐπὶ λώβᾳ
Νυκτὸς Γοργὼν ἑκατογκεφάλοις
ὄφεων ἰαχήμασι,[[300]] Λύσσα[[301]] μαρμαρωπός.
Here at least one has adequate evidence that the vase painter did not paint an unknown scene, even though he did prefer to call his figure Οἶστρος[[302]].
The shade of Aetes[[303]], a pure invention of the artist, has been held to refer to a post-Euripidean tragedy. One finds such pedantic ingenuity used in explaining this figure that the would-be-learnedness borders upon the ridiculous. It is affirmed, for example, that somewhere it must have been stated for the vase painter that Aetes had died since Medeia left him[[304]]. How far, pray, did vase painters concern themselves about such points of chronology or sequence of events? We have already pointed out in regard to these artists that they introduced and omitted characters just as they chose; and especially is this true in regard to such side-figures as Aetes is here. Then again, why is any literary source necessary to prove the old man’s death? It was but the natural course of events that the painter followed when he concluded that Aetes was among the shades. It is absurd to require some proof that the unlucky king had, within the long period of Medeia’s absence, passed into the world of spirits. It seems to me that there are two views that can adequately explain this addition to the picture, and with either one in mind the vase painter would have needed no post-Euripidean work or painting but simply the Medeia tragedy to inspire him.