Fig. 73.—A Fourth-Century Vase in Munich Representing the Vengeance of Medea.
Now it will be noted that these theatrical arrangements made no provision for an interior scene. The dramatic action was necessarily laid in the open air, usually before a palace, private house, or temple. Though occasional plays, like Mr. Louis Parker’s Pomander Walk, show that the thing can still be managed, in general modern dramatists would be paralyzed by such a requirement. Nor is it correct to state that the classical poets “seldom had occasion to show an interior scene.” The truth is precisely the opposite: having no way in which to show an interior they were constrained to rest content with alfresco scenes. Yet the situation was not so desperate as it would seem. Corneille pointed out that Greek kings could meet and speak in public without a breach of etiquette.[315] At the French court, and consequently on the French stage, such conduct would have been intolerable. In the second place the mildness of a southern climate justified some practices which might appear strange to more northern peoples. Many things which we would consider must be kept strictly within doors would sometimes take place in the street. Semi-privacy was afforded by porches and porticoes, that is, theatrically speaking, by the colonnade of the proscenium. Our nearest parallel would be sun parlors or screened porches and even these fall short. Doubtless this difference in weather conditions has something to do with the fact that modern playwrights of the classic school, who, though freed from the material restrictions of the ancients, have yet slavishly imitated them in so much else, have not followed them in this partiality for outdoor scenes. Allowance must also be made for the fact that in comedy the characters uniformly belonged to the lower strata of society. Accordingly we need feel little surprise that in Aristophanes’ Clouds (vss. 1 ff.) Strepsiades and his son are disclosed sleeping before their home in the open air, though we have no reason to believe that they are either actual or prospective victims of tuberculosis. In Euripides’ Orestes (vss. 1 ff.) the matricide, wasted by illness, lies on his couch before the palace in Argos under his sister’s care. In Plautus’ The Churl (vss. 448 ff.), Phronesium reclines on a bed before the house, pretending that she has given birth to a child. In Plautus’ The Haunted House (vss. 248 ff.), Philematium asks her maid for a mirror, jewel box, etc., and a scene of prinking ensues in the open air. Scenes of outdoor feasting and carousing are too numerous to deserve individual mention. I cannot accept the contention that the action of such scenes takes place in an “imaginary interior.” They are frankly out of doors; in this connection such expressions as “outside the house,” “before the doors,” etc., are frequent. These scenes were enacted in the colonnade of the proscenium and are correctly copied from ancient life. Of course I concede that in real life they would take place indoors as often as out, or even more often; but they were common enough as open-air scenes to justify the playwrights in constantly transcribing them in this fashion.
But the significance of the considerations mentioned in the last paragraph must not be overestimated. The difficulty arising from physical conditions in the theater was cumulative. In other words the placing of any particular scene in the open air was generally justifiable by ancient habits of living and not difficult to motivate; but to place every scene in every play out of doors and under these conditions to invent a plausible motive for every entrance taxed the dramatists’ powers to the utmost and sometimes exceeded them.[316] No wonder, then, that occasionally they abandoned all attempts to explain their characters’ movements and coolly allowed them to leave their dwellings and to speak, without apology or excuse, of the most confidential matters in a public place. Many instances of this license, however, seem to have been conditioned by definite rules. For example, if a character leaves his house while engaged in conversation with another, no reason is given for their entrance, i.e., for their not having concluded the conversation where it was begun. Examples of this technique do not occur until about 400 B.C. (see [p. 310], below, and the instances there cited). Secondly, no entrance motive is provided when a character is to take part in a dialogue with another who is already on the scene and whose own entrance has been motived. Thus in Euripides’ Alcestis, Heracles enters at vs. 476 in order to seek hospitality at Admetus’ palace; at vs. 506 the chorus announces the king’s emergence, which is entirely unmotived. Six other examples of this technique occur in Greek tragedy.
Nevertheless, in general the ancient playwrights displayed an amazing fertility of invention in explaining why their characters came out of doors and spoke in so public a place of matters which might more naturally have been reserved for greater privacy. Thus in Euripides’ Alcestis, Apollo explains his leaving Admetus’ palace on the ground of the pollution which a corpse would bring upon all within the house (vss. 22 f.) and Alcestis herself, though in a dying condition, fares forth to look for the last time upon the sun in heaven (vs. 206). Oedipus is so concerned in the afflictions of his subjects that he cannot endure the thought of making inquiries through a servant but comes forth to learn the situation in person (Sophocles’ Oedipus the King, vss. 6 f.); Carion is driven out of doors by the smoke of sacrifice upon the domestic altar (Aristophanes’ Plutus, vss. 821 f.); Polyphemus leaves his cave intending to visit his brothers for a carousal (cf. Euripides’ Cyclops, vss. 445 f. and 507 ff.). In Euripides’ Andromache, Hermione’s nurse, worn out in the attempt to save her mistress from self-destruction, hurries out and appeals to the chorus for assistance; a moment later Hermione herself escapes from the restraining clutches of her attendants and rushes upon the stage (vss. 816 ff.). Agathon cannot compose his odes in the winter time unless he bask in the sunlight (Aristophanes’ Women at the Thesmophoria, vss. 67 f.). In Plautus’ The Haunted House (vss. 1 ff.) one slave is driven out of doors by another as the result of a quarrel. The lovelorn Phaedra teases for light and air (Euripides’ Hippolytus, vss. 178 ff.). Medea’s nurse apologizes for soliloquizing before the house with the excuse that the sorrows within have stifled her and caused her to seek relief by proclaiming them to earth and sky (cf. Euripides’ Medea, vss. 56 ff. and [pp. 307 f.], below). And Antigone informs her sister that she has summoned her out of doors in order to speak with her alone (Sophocles’ Antigone, vss. 18 f.), as if that were the most natural place in the world for a tête-à-tête. In connection with this last instance it must be remembered that the interior of ancient houses was arranged differently than ours and was more favorable for eavesdropping (cf. Terence’s Phormio, vss. 862-69).
The difficulty inherent in the exclusive use of exterior scenes appears very strikingly in Euripides’ Cyclops. Here the action would naturally take place in Polyphemus’ cave, as it does in Homer’s Odyssey; but, theatrical conditions making that impossible, the scene is laid before the cave’s mouth. Contrary to verisimilitude, therefore, the poet is obliged to allow Odysseus to pass in and out without let or hindrance. Why, then, does he make no attempt to escape? Euripides anticipated this query and explained Odysseus’ remaining by regard for his companions’ safety (vss. 479 ff.). But why was it not equally feasible for his comrades to leave the cave and for all to be saved together? The poet can think of no better motive than that Odysseus’ pride and sense of honor caused him to desire to take vengeance on Polyphemus for having murdered some of his followers (vss. 694 f.).
Being unable actually to represent an interior scene the Greek playwrights gladly availed themselves of several substitutes. The most common of these was the messenger’s speech (see [p. 164], above), by which occurrences that had taken place indoors were related to the chorus or to actors before the house. Another substitute was found in the cries of characters murdered behind the scenes (see [pp. 128] and [229], above). A third method consisted in throwing open the doors in the background and revealing a scene of murder done within (see [p. 128], above). We are told further that sometimes, when the doors were flung open, a platform, with a tableau mounted upon it, was pushed forward for a few moments (see the discussion of the eccylema on [pp. 284-89], below). A fourth evasion of the restriction occurs in Euripides’ Hippolytus, vss. 565 ff. Phaedra from her couch in the proscenium colonnade hears the voices of her confidential slave and Hippolytus engaged in conversation within doors. She invites the chorus in the orchestra near by to join her in listening at the door—a proposal which for obvious dramatic reasons the choreutae cannot accept; but her own cries and exclamations of despair as she listens stir the audience much more profoundly than the conversation itself could have done. Thus the main portion of the dialogue between Hippolytus and the slave is supposed to take place indoors. It is concluded before the house, the two interlocutors entering the stage at vs. 600.
Still again, the dramatists of New Comedy were fond of representing a character in the act of passing through a doorway and shouting back parting injunctions to those within—an artifice which is sufficiently transparent and is justly ridiculed in Terence’s Andrian Girl. A nurse has been summoned in a confinement case and issues her final instructions while leaving the house. Simo, who thinks no child has been born and that it is all a trick to deceive him, turns fiercely upon the scheming slave at his side: “Who that knows you would not believe this to be the product of your brain? She did not tell what must be done for the mother in her presence; but after taking her departure she screams from the street to the attendants within. O Davus, do you scorn me so? Pray do I seem so suitable a victim for you to beguile with such transparent stratagems? You ought to work out the details of your plots more exactly, so that I might at least seem to be feared in case I learned the truth” (vss. 489 ff.). Be it noted, however, that such a stickler for realism as Ibsen occasionally made use of this same device (cf. Pillars of Society, Acts II and III). A close parallel occurs in Aristophanes’ Acharnians, vss. 1003 ff.
As a final illustration of the artificiality of the exterior scene I may refer to the manner in which characters are brusquely called out of their homes to meet the demands of the dramatic situation. Thus in Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis a messenger enters and unceremoniously shouts to his queen within doors:
Daughter of Tyndareus, Clytemnestra, come