It would take too long to examine here every instance of the deus ex machina in Euripides. For that I must refer the reader to Professor Decharme’s interesting discussion.[362] Suffice it to state that in every case the element of prediction is brought into play. This appears even in the Orestes, the only piece in which the theophany is frankly and undisguisedly employed to provide Euripides with a dénouement. Orestes and Electra stand condemned to death for having murdered their mother. Being disappointed in the hope of receiving succor from their uncle, Menelaus, they determine to punish him for his recreancy by slaying Helen and to hold his daughter Hermione as a hostage in order to force him to secure the recall of the decree against them. Helen has now supposedly been slain, Menelaus stands angry and baffled before the bolted doors, Orestes with his sword at Hermione’s throat taunts him from the palace roof. If any regard is to be paid to verisimilitude or human psychology, no reconciliation between these conflicting elements is possible; but at this moment Apollo appears, and his fiat (see [p. 293]) resolves every feud. The god goes beyond this, however, and in typical fashion predicts (or ordains) the later career of each character.
It is but fair to Euripides to state that even Sophocles, that master of dramatic writing, found the deus ex machina as indispensable in his Philoctetes as did the former in his Orestes. Philoctetes had come into possession of the bow of Heracles, and having been abandoned on the island of Lemnos by the leaders of the Greek expedition against Troy he cherished an implacable hatred against his former associates. But now the Greeks have received an oracle to the effect that the person and weapons of Philoctetes are necessary for the capture of Ilium. In Sophocles’ play the task of meeting these conditions has been laid upon the wily Odysseus and the noble Neoptolemus. By a trick they succeed in gaining possession of the bow and by another trick are in a fair way of enticing the inexorable hero on board a ship bound for Troy, when the generous son of Achilles refuses to proceed further with so infamous a scheme and finally returns his weapons to Philoctetes. This development was inevitable if the character of Neoptolemus is to be maintained consistently; but it leaves the characters in a hopeless deadlock. At this juncture (vs. 1408) the deified Heracles appears to reveal the purposes of Zeus, and Philoctetes abandons his resentment. Here again the element of prophecy is associated with the deus ex machina, Heracles foretelling the healing of Philoctetes’ wound and his future career of glory at Troy and elsewhere.
Much nonsense has been indulged in by modern authorities in ridiculing this contrivance of the Greek theater. This has sprung partly from a misapprehension of the real situation and partly from a failure to realize that devices fully as forced and artificial have been employed by the supreme masters of dramatic art in modern times. Of course I do not mean that an actual μηχανή has often been brought to view in modern theaters or that divinities have frequently trod the stage. Nevertheless a close equivalent of the deus ex machina, in the broader sense, has not rarely been resorted to. For example, at the close of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline the king declares, as the result of an oracle:
Although the victor, we submit to Caesar
And to the Roman empire, promising
To pay our wonted tribute.
Again, in As You Like It everything has been satisfactorily settled except one point: the spectators would hardly rest content to think of the characters as spending the remainder of their lives in the Forest of Arden. This detail is adjusted by means of a messenger, who reports that the usurping duke had addressed a mighty power with which to capture his brother and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came;
Where meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted