So we see that the tragic playwrights, more subtly than their comic confrères but fully as effectively, knew how to commend themselves to the good graces of the populace by incidents and sentiments no less palatable than the nuts and figs of comedy. If such conduct seem to some to be beneath the dignity of transcendent geniuses like Aeschylus and Euripides, a corrective may be found in the words of Schlegel:[307] “The dramatic poet is, more than any other, obliged to court external form and loud applause. But of course it is only in appearance that he thus lowers himself to his hearers; while, in reality, he is elevating them to himself.”
For to set up the Grecian method amongst us with success, it is absolutely necessary to restore, not only their religion and their polity, but to transport us to the same climate in which Sophocles and Euripides writ; or else, by reason of those different circumstances, several things which were graceful and decent with them must seem ridiculous and absurd to us, as several things which would have appeared highly extravagant to them must look proper and becoming with us.—John Dennis.
CHAPTER V
THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS[308]
Whether the use of masks in Greek drama originated in the mere desire for a disguise or in some ritualistic observance has not been definitely established. At any rate their employment was peculiarly well adapted to the genius of the ancient theater. First of all they enabled a small number of actors to carry a much larger number of parts (see [p. 173], above). Secondly, the mouthpiece is claimed by some to have magnified the sound of the actor’s voice, and thus helped to counteract the outstanding fact in the physical arrangement of ancient theaters, viz., their huge size (see [p. 121], above). But in particular I wish to stress their bearing upon another feature of the classic drama—the hugeness of ancient theaters, together with the lack of opera glasses, made impossible an effect which modern audiences highly appreciate. I refer to the delicate play of expression on the mobile faces of the performers. In antiquity such refinements could scarcely have been seen outside of the orchestra. A partial substitute was occasionally found in a change of mask during the performance. This became possible if a character was off-stage at the time when his physical or mental state was supposed to be modified by some misfortune or accident. Thus when some one’s eyes are dashed out behind the scenes, as in Sophocles’ Oedipus the King, Euripides’ Hecabe and Cyclops, etc., the mask with which he appears after this event would naturally be different from that previously worn. Similarly in Euripides’ Hippolytus that hero, young and handsome, proudly leaves the stage at vs. 1102. At vs. 1342 he is borne back in a dying condition, battered and torn by his runaway team. It is plausible to suppose that this change is reflected by a modification of his mask and costume. Still another type is seen in Euripides’ Phoenician Maids. A seer has demanded that Creon’s son be slain to redeem the fatherland, but at vs. 990 Creon departs with the assurance that Menoeceus will seek safety in flight. When he reappears at vs. 1308 his brow is said to be clouded by the news that his son had changed his mind and immolated himself for his country’s good.
At best such a change of masks was but a clumsy and inadequate evasion of the difficulty; yet even this was out of the question whenever the catastrophe befell the character while on the scene. In these cases the dramatists sometimes try to explain the immobility of the actor’s mask. An unusually successful instance occurs in Sophocles’ Electra. Electra had believed her brother dead, and now she unexpectedly holds him in her arms, alive and well. But not a spark of joy can scintillate across her wooden features either then or later. Her subsequent passivity is motivated by Orestes’ request that she continue her lamentations and not allow their mother to read her secret in her radiant face (vss. 1296 ff.). Electra replies that ‘old hatred of her mother is too ingrained to allow her countenance to be seen wreathed in smiles, but that her tears will be tears of joy,’ which has the merit of explaining also the present unresponsiveness of her features. Sometimes the actor’s face is hidden at times when strong emotions might be expected to play thereon. For example, in Euripides’ Orestes, Electra and the chorus stand in the orchestra and look toward the palace within which Helen is being slain and from which her dying cries issue. Inasmuch as their backs are turned to the audience, the spectators are free to suppose that their faces are working with excitement and horror. This fiction will be destroyed as soon as the performers wheel around toward the front again. Accordingly Electra is made to say:
Belovèd dames, into the jaws of death
Hermione cometh! Let our outcry cease:
For into the net’s meshes, lo, she falls.
Fair quarry this shall be, so she be trapped.