There is always a slight cast of irony in the grave, calm, respectful attention impartially bestowed by an intelligent judge on two contending parties, who are pleading their causes before him with all the earnestness of deep conviction, and of excited feeling. What makes the contrast interesting is, that the right and the truth lie on neither side exclusively: that there is no fraudulent purpose, no gross imbecility of intellect, on either: but both have plausible claims and specious reasons to allege, though each is too much blinded by prejudice or passion to do justice to the views of his adversary. For here the irony lies not in the demeanor of the judge, but is deeply seated in the case itself, which seems to favor both of the litigants, but really eludes them both.
This analogy is especially true when the irony arises from clashing intrigues, and the audience, admitted to the author’s confidence and sitting at his side, as it were, joins with him in awarding praise here and condemnation there. Again the playwright is the omnipotent creator and ruler of the little world that moves upon the stage. And the spectator, beholding the dramatic characters’ fruitless toil and plotting, baseless exultation, and needless despondency seems to be admitted behind the scenes of this world’s tragedy and to view the spectacle through the great dramatist’s eyes, learning that man must be content with little, humble ever, distrustful of fortune, and fearful of the powers above. Thus the slighter themes and less important reverses of comedy bring a purification (κάθαρσις) in their train no less truly than the more somber catastrophes of tragedy.[371]
Footprints on the sands of time.—H. W. Longfellow.
CHAPTER IX
THEATRICAL RECORDS[372]
The technical word used of bringing out a play was διδάσκειν (“to teach”), and the technical name for the director of the performance was didascalus (διδάσκαλος) or “teacher.” We have already noted ([p. 198], above) that didascalia (διδασκαλία; “teaching”) was the name for a group of plays brought out by a tragic playwright at one time, and the same word was applied to a record of the theatrical contests. At the beginning the didascalus and the author were identical, for the reason that the primitive poets taught the choreutae what they were to sing, that the poets in the one-actor period carried the histrionic parts themselves and still taught the choreutae their rôles, and that even when they had ceased to act in their plays they yet continued to train those who did.
The Athenian archons seem to have kept records of the contests at the Dionysiac festivals, the archon eponymus for the City Dionysia and the king archon for the Lenaea. These records, of course, were not compiled in the interests of literary research such as flourished in Alexandrian times but merely for the private convenience of the officials and for documentary purposes. Apparently they consisted of a bald series of entries, chronicling the choregi, tribes, poet-didascali, actors, plays, and victors in the various dithyrambic and dramatic events. In the fourth century B.C. these archives were published by Aristotle in a work entitled Didascaliae. His service probably was mainly that of unearthing the material and arranging it in chronological sequence and of making it available to a wider public, for Dr. Jachmann has made it seem clear that he did not edit the archons’ record to any great extent. In consequence Aristotle’s book contained too much and was overloaded with unimportant details. Its main value consisted in being a court of last resort and a source from which smaller and less unwieldy lists might be compiled.
Some of these indirect products of Aristotle’s industry were entered upon stone and are still preserved in fragments. The first of these is for convenience referred to as the Fasti (“calendar” or “register”) and contained the annual victors in each event at the City Dionysia from about 502/1 B.C. when volunteer comuses were first given a place in the festival program. This inscription was cut upon the face of a wall built of four rows of superimposed blocks and almost six feet in height. The text was arranged in vertical columns. There were originally sixteen of these and most of them contained one hundred and forty-one lines. The presence of a heading over the first five columns, however, reduced the lines upon them to one hundred and forty. For the most part the lines in adjoining columns were placed exactly opposite one another, but toward the bottom of col. 13 the writing was crowded so that this column perhaps contained no less than one hundred and fifty-three lines. As the entries for 346-342 B.C. fell in this space, most authorities accept Dr. Wilhelm’s conclusion that the body of the inscription was cut at that period and received additional entries, year by year, for subsequent festivals until about 319 B.C.[373] Whoever was responsible for the original inscription must have excerpted the appropriate items from Aristotle’s Didascaliae and, for the brief period intervening between the publication of Aristotle’s book and 346-342 B.C., from the original archives.
Fig. 75.—Wilhelm’s Transcription and Restoration of Two Fragments of the Athenian Fasti.