Fig. 70.—Ground Plan of the Theater at Thoricus in Attica
It is well known that in the earliest extant Greek plays, viz., the Suppliants, Persians, and Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus, the scene is laid in the open countryside with not a house in sight and with no scenic accessories except an altar, tomb, or rock, respectively. But that this circumstance was explicable by the character of the Athenian theater did not become evident until Dr. Dörpfeld’s excavations on that site in 1886, 1889, and 1895 (see [pp. 65 ff.], above, and Figs. [32] and [32a]). From 499 B.C. until about 465 B.C. the theater at Athens consisted of an orchestral circle nearly eighty feet in diameter and somewhat south of the present orchestra, and an auditorium arranged partly about it on the Acropolis slope. Immediately behind the orchestra there was no scene-building or back scene, but a six-foot declivity. Only within the orchestra itself, at the center or to one side, might there be erected for temporary use some such theatrical “property” as an altar or tomb. Consequently it was inevitable that playwrights of the early fifth century in choosing an imaginary scene for their plays should react to these physical conditions and localize the dramatic action in more or less deserted spots. Even as late as Aeschylus’ Seven against Thebes (467 B.C.), although the scene no longer is laid in the countryside but on the Theban Acropolis, yet this is still a place without inhabitants or houses. It should be noted that at this period the exclusive mode of ingress and egress was by the side entrances, the parodi; under normal conditions, any movement into the orchestra or out of it, at the rear, was entirely precluded by the declivity. That such a primitive theater would suffice for the needs of that or even a later period is proved by the remains of the structure at Thoricus (Figs. [70 f.]),[310] which was never brought to a higher state of development (see [p. 103], above), and by the fact that even at a later period dramatists sometimes voluntarily reverted to this unpretentious stage setting. For example, in Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus the background represented the untrodden grove of the Eumenides, so that practically all the entrances and exits were restricted to the parodi. An exceptional rear exit is afforded by Aeschylus’ Prometheus Bound, and an exceptional rear entrance by the next play in the trilogy, the Prometheus Unbound. We have already seen (see [pp. 166 f.] and [174], above) how in the former play the hero, being represented by a dummy, cannot speak until Hephaestus leaves the scene by a side entrance and makes his way behind the rock upon which Prometheus is bound. In the absence of a scene-building, the six-foot declivity must have been utilized to conceal the second half of this movement. Now the Prometheus Bound ends as the Titan and his crag sink into the depths; at the beginning of the Prometheus Unbound this crag has emerged from the abyss. What was the reason for this maneuver? Obviously to enable an actor to be substituted for the lay figure of Prometheus. So long as the hero was fixed in his place, an actor concealed behind him experienced little difficulty in speaking his lines for him; but as the time drew near for his release a living impersonator was required. How was this substitution managed? I conceive that a wooden frame-work, rudely suggesting a rock, was propped up at the outer extremity of the orchestra. At the moment of the catastrophe the supports were removed and the structure allowed to collapse into the declivity. After an interval sufficient for the exchange had elapsed, the rocky background was once more raised into its place and braced.
Fig. 71
AUDITORIUM AND ORCHESTRA OF THE THEATER AT THORICUS
About 465 B.C. an advance step in theatrical conditions was taken when a scene-building was erected immediately behind the orchestra, where the declivity had previously been (see [p. 66], above). This first scene-building must have been very simple, probably of only one story, without either parascenia or proscenium ([Fig. 74]), and capable of being readily rebuilt so as to be accommodated to the needs of different plays. The extant dramas show that from the first the new background was pierced by at least one door and that the number was soon raised to three, though they were not all used in every production. The different doorways were conventionally thought of as leading into as many separate houses or buildings. Thus, whereas the actors had hitherto been able to enter and depart only through the two parodi, from one to three additional means of entrance were now provided. Moreover, the mere fact of having a background was no small advantage. For example, it enabled Aeschylus to introduce a distinct improvement in dramatic technique. Heretofore scenes of violence must either have been boldly enacted before the spectators’ eyes or reported by a messenger. Since the sacrosanctity of the actor while engaged in a performance and the Greeks’ aesthetic sense interfered with the first alternative (see [pp. 127-32], above), doubtless the second had usually been resorted to. Now Aeschylus is said to have invented the very effective device of having a character killed behind the scenes during the play. In view of the physical conditions it will be understood that the failure of Aeschylus’ predecessors to avail themselves of this expedient was due to no lack of inventive genius on their part but simply to the entire absence in their time of a back scene to use for the purpose. It is not known just how long it took Aeschylus to discover this possibility in the new arrangements; but it was certainly not later than the Agamemnon (458 B.C.), in which the king’s agonized death cries from behind the scenes (vss. 1343 and 1345) still have power to affect even modern audiences. Further modifications of this artifice have already been mentioned on [p. 128].
One of the most troublesome problems that confront a playwright is inventing plausible motives to explain the entrances and exits of his characters. The fundamental nature of this problem appears from the words of a modern dramatist, Mr. Alfred Sutro: “Before I start writing the dialogue of a play, I make sure that I shall have an absolutely free hand over the entrances and exits: in other words, that there is ample and legitimate reason for each character appearing in any particular scene, and ample motive for his leaving it.” Now in the interior scene, and especially in the box set, moderns have a marvelously flexible instrument for shifting personages on and off the scene; yet few can avoid abusing this resource and can repeat Mr. Bernard Shaw’s boast: “My people get on and off the stage without requiring four doors to a room which in real life would have only one.”[311] To the ancient writer the difficulty was still greater. Prior to 465 B.C., when some uninhabited spot was perforce chosen as the scene of action and the two parodi were the sole means of ingress, it was fairly easy to motivate a person’s first entrance and withdrawal; but a reappearance proved a more difficult matter, and each additional character complicated the problem still further. Consequently, the ancient playwrights not infrequently frankly abandoned all search for a solution and considered that to leave a character standing in idleness during a whole scene or choral ode was less awkward and improbable than any motive which they could provide for his exit and re-entrance. Thus in Aeschylus’ Suppliants, Danaus enters the orchestra with the chorus consisting of his daughters and remains at the altar, without a single word to say, during their parodus of a hundred and seventy-five lines. After a short scene the king of Argos appears, and then for over two hundred lines (vss. 234-479) Danaus is again ignored (see [pp. 163 f.], above). In this play the town of Argos is thought of as lying some distance away from the scene of action. Only an important errand would take Danaus there, and evidently the poet experienced difficulty in inventing as many errands as dramatic propriety required. Similarly at vss. 181 ff. of Aeschylus’ Seven against Thebes, Eteocles rebukes the chorus for their fears and lamentations; yet apparently he has been standing there during their whole parodus (vss. 78-180) without a single word of protest! But it was not characteristic of the Greek genius tamely to submit to hindrances, and accordingly we are not surprised that Aeschylus actually secured a striking dramatic effect by leaving characters like Niobe and Achilles for considerable intervals speechless and immovable on the scene. When finally uttered, their startling cries of anguish were greatly enhanced by their previous long-continued silence. It may not be amiss to note that Molière obtained similar suspense by means quite opposite. In Tartuffe, contrary to all the accepted rules, the principal character does not appear upon the scene until after the beginning of the third act. But the conversation and disputes of the other dramatic personages have so inflamed our curiosity concerning him that we can scarcely wait to catch a glimpse of him, and his entrance finally is thrice as effective as if it had come earlier in the play.