Moreover, despite numerous attempts to the contrary, the real nature of the primitive dithyramb can scarcely be a matter of doubt. Plato, who was also no “simpleton,” defined it as a song in celebration of the birth of Dionysus.[19] Now since the dithyramb is known to have been opened up to a wider range of themes considerably before Plato’s time, his definition must apply to the original meaning of the term. This interpretation does not remain unsupported. Thus, the first extant instance of the words occurs in a fragment of Archilochus (ca. 680-640 B.C.), who declares that he “knows how, when his heart is crazed with wine, to lead lord Dionysus’ dithyramb.”[20] It should be observed that Archilochus does not say that he knows how to write a dithyramb, but how to take part in one as a drunken ἐξάρχων (“leader”). Such a performance was doubtless, as Aristotle said, largely improvisational, being perhaps coupled with the rendition of some ritual chant (καλὸν μέλος). Dionysus is characterized as θριαμβο-διθύραμβος (“celebrated in dithyrambs”) by Pratinas,[21] and addressed as διθύραμβος by Euripides in his Bacchanals, vs. 526. In an ode in honor of the victories which were won by Xenophon of Corinth in 464 B.C. Pindar inquires, “Whence appeared the charms of Dionysus in connection with the ox-driving dithyramb?”[22] Here, also, the author is not referring to the Corinthian dithyramb of his own day but to the period when it was put upon a quasi-literary level by Arion (see below). Finally, Epicharmus went so far as to declare that “when you drink water, it isn’t a dithyramb,”[23] showing that the more primitive meaning of the term was not crowded out by later developments. These passages are sufficient to show that the dithyramb was at all times intimately associated with Dionysus and at the beginning belonged to him exclusively; their force is not invalidated by the acknowledged fact that at an early period (see [p. 11], below) the restriction was broken down.
It was not until after the middle of the seventh century that the dithyramb became “poetized.” This step was taken by Arion of Methymna in Lesbos, then resident in Corinth. His connection with the dithyramb and early tragedy is vouched for by irrefutable evidence. Solon of Athens (639-559 B.C.) is said in a recently discovered notice[24] to have declared in his Elegies that “Arion introduced the first drama of tragedy.” The question immediately arises as to exactly what language Solon had employed. The words τῆς τραγῳδίας πρῶτον δρᾶμα are, of course, only a paraphrase, for no form of the word τραγῳδία can be used in elegiac verse. This objection does not lie against the word δρᾶμα, however, and it will be remembered that the Dorians based their claims to tragedy partly upon this non-Attic term.[25]. Thus, we obtain an explanation of the cumbersome circumlocution “the first drama of tragedy.” In Solon’s Elegies the author of this notice (or his source) found only the ambiguous term δρᾶμα. A desire to retain the terminology of the original prevented his frankly substituting τραγῳδία. Accordingly, he kept δρᾶμα but inserted the qualifying genitive τῆς τραγῳδίας. I do not understand that Aristotle either indorses or rejects the Dorian pretensions with respect to this word; but in view of our present evidence I am of the opinion that Arion called his performances “dramas” and was the first to use the word in this sense and that there is so much of justice in the Dorian claims. It is not necessary to believe, however, that they were ever called satyric dramas, see [p. 22], below.
Now, Dr. Nilsson has objected that Solon would have had no occasion to express his opinion upon a matter of this kind (op. cit., p. 611, note). But the mention of the title of the work from which the citation purports to come goes far to substantiate its genuineness. Furthermore, Solon was incensed at Thespis (see [pp. 17 f.], below), and therefore it was only natural that he should take an interest in the matter, assign the distinction to another, and state his opinion in as public a manner as possible. The fact that he lived in the days before real (Aeschylean) tragedy and before the importance of Thespis’ innovations was understood explains the error in his judgment. But at the very least, this notice proves that the tradition of Arion’s connection with tragedy was current as early as the first half of the sixth century.
Pindar’s reference to the development of the dithyramb at Corinth has already been mentioned. In the next generation Herodotus characterized Arion as follows: “Arion was second to none of the harpists of that time and was the first of the men known to us to compose (ποιήσαντα) a dithyramb and to give it a name (ὀνομάσαντα) and to represent it at Corinth” (I, 23). It is customary nowadays to seek to explain such notices as arising from the rival claims of jealous cities; but be it noted that here are two Attic sympathizers, Solon and Herodotus, granting full recognition to the literary achievements of a neighboring city. In fact, Herodotus is apparently too generous, for Arion could not have been the inventor of the dithyramb, broadly speaking. But ποιεῖν denotes not only “to compose” but also “to poetize,” and the latter translation is in better accord with what else we know of Arion’s contribution to the history of the dithyramb. On the other hand, ὀνομάσαντα probably means that in Herodotus’ opinion Arion was the first to give names (titles) to his performances.[26]
A Byzantine writer repeats and amplifies Herodotus’ statements but adds one interesting clause to the effect that Arion “introduced satyrs speaking in meter.”[27] In this there is nothing surprising. In the Peloponnesus caprine satyrs were regular attendants upon Dionysus, and in consequence the dithyrambic choreutae must usually have been thought of as satyrs. Their improvisations, also, must always have engaged the speaking as well as the singing voice. This fact, however, did not at this time involve histrionic impersonation (μίμησις) for the reason that they would not attempt to say what was appropriate to satyrs but to themselves in propria persona as revelers and worshipers. The word ἔμμετρα (“in meter”), therefore, is the important one. The use of meter marked the coming of artistic finish and the passing of a performance largely extemporaneous. Some idea of the technique of Arion’s productions may be drawn from a dithyramb by Bacchylides (first half of the fifth century) in honor of Theseus. This is in the form of a lyric dialogue and was doubtless influenced somewhat by contemporaneous tragedy. The chorus of Athenians, addressing Aegeus, king of Athens, inquires why a call to arms has been sounded (vss. 1-15), and the coryphaeus (“chorus-leader”) replies that a herald has just arrived and summarizes his message (vss. 16-30). The chorus asks for further details (vss. 31-45), and once more the king’s reply is borrowed from the herald (vss. 46-60). Here Theseus, not Dionysus, is the theme of the poem; the choreutae do not represent satyrs, but appear in their true character as plain citizens of Athens; and the coryphaeus is given a dramatic character, that of Aegeus. These are all developments later than the time of Arion; nevertheless, the general effect must have been much the same.
Before the close of the sixth century the dithyramb had become a regular form of literature—a chorus of fifty, dancing and singing formal compositions. In 508 B.C. a contest of dithyrambic choruses of men was made a standing feature of the program at the City Dionysia in Athens. Simonides (556-467 B.C.) is known to have composed a dithyramb entitled Memnon, the exclusively Dionysiac character of the genre being then, if not earlier, abandoned. But it is important to remember that originally the dithyramb was extemporaneous and confined to the worship and exaltation of Dionysus.
In the new notice concerning Solon and Arion, von Wilamowitz finds “die Bestätigung dass die τραγῳδοί vor Thespis bestanden” (cf. op. cit., p. 470). This development could scarcely have taken place at Corinth in Arion’s time, for there was no need of coining a new word to designate the performers so long as they appeared as satyrs. And if a term had then been derived from the choreutae to designate their performance, it must have been *σατυρῳδία and not τραγῳδία. Neither could the new term have been derived at this period from the prize, for then the goat was only the third award.[28] Let us therefore turn to Sicyon.
In a well-known passage (v. 67) Herodotus tells how the Sicyonians used to honor their former king, Adrastus, in other ways, and in particular celebrated his sorrows with “tragic” (or “goat”) choruses (τραγικοῖσι χοροῖσι) and how their tyrant Clisthenes in anger at Adrastus assigned these choruses to Dionysus and the other features of the rites to Melanippus. Melanippus in his lifetime had killed Adrastus’ brother and son-in-law, and Clisthenes had brought his bones from Thebes and transferred to him part of the honors which had previously been paid to Adrastus, in order to insult the latter as outrageously as possible. The superimposition of the worship of Dionysus upon that of the local hero and the reference to tragic choruses have furnished Ridgeway a foundation upon which to rear his theory that tragedy developed from ceremonies at the tombs of heroes. In this passage the meaning of the word τραγικοῖσι has provoked much discussion. I believe that Herodotus meant τραγικός here in the sense current in his own day, viz., tragic, but I do not believe that he stopped to consider whether these Sicyonian dances “were sufficiently like the choruses in the tragedies of his contemporaries to be called ‘tragic.’”[29] I think he employed that adjective simply because τραγικοὶ χοροί was the Sicyonians’ own designation for their performances. If so, whatever τραγικοῖσι χοροῖσι connoted to Herodotus, or even to contemporaneous Sicyonians, originally τραγικός in this phrase must have meant “goat,” and these choruses must originally have been, for whatever reason, “goat” choruses.
Some considered Epigenes of Sicyon the first tragic poet, Thespis being second (or as others thought, sixteenth) in the list.[30] In connection with Epigenes another tradition must be mentioned. Several explanations are preserved of the proverb oὐδὲν πρὸς τὸν Διόνυσον (“nothing to do with Dionysus”). These are somewhat vague in details and need not be taken too seriously; but at least they are valuable as showing the general periods in which their authors thought that the proper situation for the rise of such a proverb had existed. According to one account, this expression was uttered “when Epigenes had composed a tragedy in honor of Dionysus.”[31] In just what particular Epigenes’ performance seemed alien to the worship of Dionysus the retailers of the anecdote do not specify. Ridgeway supposes that Epigenes “did not confine himself to Dionysiac subjects.”[32] But surely that development came much later. In my opinion, the explanation is simpler. We have no information as to the costume which the choreutae wore in honoring the sorrows of Adrastus. There was, of course, no reason for their appearing as satyrs. But were satyric choreutae introduced at the same time that the dances were given over to Dionysus? If we answer this question in the negative, the situation becomes clear. The audience, or part of it, was sufficiently acquainted with the performances instituted by Arion at Corinth to expect a chorus of satyrs in the Sicyonian dances after they were transferred to Dionysus. And when Epigenes brought on his choreutae in the same (non-satyric) costume as had previously been employed, they naturally manifested their surprise with the ejaculation: οὐδὲν πρὸς τὸν Διόνυσον. By this they meant: “Why, these choreutae are just what we have had all the time; there is nothing of the satyrs about them. They have nothing to do with Dionysus.”
Practically everyone is convinced that τραγῳδία means “goat-song.” The only difficulty consists in explaining how this name came to be applied. We have already noted (see [p. 2], above) that Welcker explained it on the basis of costume, and this is now the prevailing view. But though the choreutae at Corinth were satyrs, there were good reasons why no new term should be coined there to designate them (see [p. 11], above), and in fact, τραγῳδία, τραγῳδός (“goat-singer”), and τραγικός (in a technical sense) apparently did not originate there. On the other hand, in Sicyon (where at least the expression τραγικοὶ χοροί, if not the others, seems to have been in use at an early day) the costume of the choreutae was assuredly not caprine before the dances were transferred from Adrastus to Dionysus and probably was not thereafter. Consequently, Welcker’s explanation must be rejected.