Dörpfeld has advanced several other arguments bearing upon this problem,[178] but in my opinion those just mentioned are sufficient. Now if Vitruvius’ Greek theater is to be identified with the Graeco-Roman structures dating from just before the beginning of the Christian era, it becomes impossible to cite Vitruvius in support of a stage or the use of the proscenium as a stage in Greek theaters of Hellenistic or earlier times. It will be necessary, therefore, to turn back to the fifth century and examine without prejudice the conflicting claims with reference to the presence or absence of a stage at that period. Our discussion of the extant theatrical remains of that century has already made it plain that there is nothing in them which can be employed to prove that there was a stage for the exclusive use of actors. But fortunately the paucity of such evidence is compensated for by the preservation of forty-odd tragedies and comedies of this period. A leading by-product of the stage controversy has been the recognition of the fact that these plays are not only to be taken into consideration together with other evidence but that they must be the final test of all theories based on evidence drawn from other sources. If a given theory will not permit these plays to be “staged” easily and naturally, that theory ipso facto falls to the ground. As von Wilamowitz wrote: “Von dem, was in den Stücken selbst steht, lässt sich nichts abdingen.”[179] Whatever judgment may ultimately be formulated with respect to Dörpfeld’s contributions to scenic antiquities, one of his principal achievements must ever be recognized as the minute, searching, and unprejudiced re-examination of the plays themselves which he provoked.
An illuminating exemplification of the use that may be made of the plays in the study of such problems has been given by Professor Edward Capps.[180] He showed that if chorus and actors be thought of as separated by a clearly marked line such as the edge of a ten-foot stage would afford, the action of the forty-four extant dramas requires the chorus alone to pass over this boundary at least sixty-eight times, the chorus and actors together nine times, and the actors alone thirty-nine times. Actors and chorus are repeatedly brought into the closest possible contact. For example, in Euripides’ Iphigenia among the Taurians, vss. 1068-70, Iphigenia appeals to each member of the chorus in turn, touching the hand of one and the chin and knees of another, begging for their help.
Fig. 44.—Movements of the Actors in Aristophanes’ Frogs, vss. 1-460
Again, the incidents of many plays come into harmony with theatrical conditions only if we suppose that there was no stage. Perhaps the best and clearest illustration of this is afforded by Aristophanes’ Frogs (405 B.C.). Xanthias and Dionysus, engaged in conversation, enter the orchestra at one of the side entrances ([Fig. 44A]). At vs. 35 the latter calls attention to the nearest of the three doors in the proscenium, saying: “I am already near this door where I must turn in.” It transpires that this is the house of Heracles ([Fig. 44B]), and Dionysus’ knock brings his brother in person to the door. From him they receive directions for their trip to the lower world—that first they will come to a large lake which they must cross in a tiny boat, then they will see perjurers, thieves, and criminals of the deepest dye, and finally will be received by happy bands of initiates (the chorus), who “dwell alongside the very road at the doors of Pluto” (vss. 162 f.). Scarcely have they left Heracles’ door when they behold a trundle-boat pushed from the opposite parodus into the orchestra (CC′) and hear Charon’s “Yo-heigh, Yo-ho” (vs. 180). He approaches the edge of the orchestra where they now stand, but when they prepare to embark Charon refuses to receive a slave on board and poor Xanthias is ordered to run around the lake (C′C″D; vs. 193). Meanwhile Dionysus and Charon direct their boat across the orchestra (C′D) to where, in the center of the front row of seats, the priest of Dionysus and other functionaries always sat ([Fig. 45]);[181] and from behind the scenes, to accompany their rowing, the choreutae sing a “frog” chorus as if from the bottom of the lake (vss. 209-69). Upon disembarking (at D) Dionysus calls for his slave and catches his faint reply as he comes into sight (!) from his “arduous” trip around the orchestra’s semicircumference. Xanthias now points out to his master the perjurers, etc., in the nearby audience (vs. 275). Presently they are badly frightened and Dionysus appeals to his priest, who is within arm’s length of him, to protect him (vs. 297). Now the sound of flutes is heard and the chorus of initiates enter. Dionysus and Xanthias crouch down, where they are, to listen (vs. 315). Immediately the orchestra, which has just been a subterranean lake, is changed to the imagination into a flowery meadow (vss. 326, 351, etc.). At vs. 431 Dionysus starts up from his lurking-place and inquires of the chorus, “Could you tell us where Pluto dwells hereabouts?” and the coryphaeus promptly replies: “Know that you have come to the very door” (vs. 436). Dionysus orders his slave to pick up the baggage, walks across the orchestra (DE), and raps at the central door (E), which represents the palace of Pluto (vss. 460 ff.). We need continue no further, for the remainder of the play contains nothing that is noteworthy for our present purpose; but it is already evident how closely the successive situations of the comedy correspond to the physical conditions and arrangements of a stageless theater. To those who would apply Vitruvius’ account to the fifth-century theater, this play presents ineluctable difficulties; there is insufficient room for Charon’s boat on a Vitruvian or any other kind of a Greek stage, Dionysus must appeal to his priest who is some eighty feet away,[182] Xanthias has no lake to run around, and Dionysus must inquire the way to Pluto’s palace when he would be standing considerably nearer to it than the chorus.
Fig. 45
STONE CHAIR OF THE PRIEST OF DIONYSUS OPPOSITE THE CENTER OF THE ORCHESTRA IN ATHENS
It was a convention in the earlier fifth-century plays that if the chorus and one actor were before the audience, an incoming actor should speak first to the chorus and ignore the other actor for the time being (see [pp. 165 f.], below). This convention was oftentimes extremely awkward and unnatural; but if both actors had stood on a stage several feet above the chorus it surely would have been altogether impossible.[183]