GUIDE TO GREEK DRAMA

[from Concluding Comment to The Persians by Aeschylus]

When Emperor Xerxes led the Persian attack on Greece in 480 BC, with Athens as his principal target, it was Themistocles who united a Hellas of contending, warring city-states. Plutarch writes,

The greatest of all his achievements, however, was to put an end to the fighting within Greece, to reconcile the various cities with one another and persuade them to lay aside their differences due to of the war with Persia.

When the Persians finally killed the 300 heroic Spartans at Thermopylae and poured through the pass heading for Athens, it was Themistocles who insisted on the astounding measure of abandoning the fortified city of Athens, placing the army on ships, sailing to the island of Salamis, and luring the Persian fleet into the straits. It was Themistocles who also sent out fake intelligence to Xerxes so that he would fight the Athenians where the latter wanted to fight.

The abandonment of Athens takes one’s breath away. (The Persians would sack the city and destroy the temples on the Acropolis.) Plutarch describes the evacuation:

The entire city of Athens thus put out to sea. It was a sight which filled some with pity, while others were amazed at the hardihood of what they were doing. Indeed they sent off their families in one direction and themselves crossed over to the island of Salamis where they would face the enemy, unmoved by the tears and embraces of their loved ones.

Pathetic were the old men, who were left behind because of their years, not to mention the domestic animals, who displayed a heart-rending affection and ran along howling piteously by the side of their masters as they went on board ship.

The story has been recited of the dog which belonged to Xanthippus, Pericles’ father. It could not bear to be separated from him, leaped into the sea, swam across the strait alongside his master’s warship, and dragged itself onto Salamis island, where it fainted and died on the spot. Its tomb, they say, is the place named simply the Dog’s Grave, a place pointed out to this very day.

. . .

[from the essay on Oedipus Rex by Sophocles]

The King now thinks he understands. His mother must have been a slave, and his wife fears the humiliation of being wed to a man of low birth. He demands to know what she knows, and the Queen advises him, begs him, to give up this inquiry. But the King demands that the herdsman now be brought in. Iocasta rushes into the palace.

The herdsman arrives, and he is indeed the survivor of the crossroads attack. Frightened, he evades questioning. Oedipus persists, and the poor man seeks any way out. Oedipus stays at him, gradually increasing the pressuring menace of his interrogation. The herdsman, although cornered and desperate, will not reveal the entire truth. The King in all of his menacing majesty then gives the man one final warning, and the simple fellow breaks down. He supplies all the missing pieces to the ghastly puzzle. No question remains.

. . .

[from the essay on The Bacchae by Euripides]

The Stranger miraculously pulls the top of a tall tree down to ground level, the King seats himself there, and the tree is gently straightened to its height. Pentheus has a grand view of the Bacchanal women below, but they have a clear view of him. Racing towards the King, they wrench the ash-tree out of the earth and Pentheus falls at their feet. Among them is his own mother, Agave, with whom he pleads for mercy. Possessed by the God, the wild-eyed woman catches hold of her son, ripping off his arm. The other women close in, and tear the King to pieces.

Agave carries the head of her son back home, proud of the “lion” she has vanquished. Gradually she regains her senses, and recognizes what she holds in her hands.

. . .

[from the Concluding Comment to The Bacchae]

(2) Marcus Licinius Crassus was a Roman consul and triumvir in the second century BC. The accumulation of vast personal wealth, by whatever means, provided a dominant interest in the life of the eminently successful Crassus. He capitalized grandly on the fate of 4000 people death-listed by Sulla in 82-81 BC. He earned plaudits and money by destroying the freedom-fighting slaves of the heroic Spartacus in 71 BC, crucifying the captured.

An ally of Julius Caesar, Crassus availed himself of Caesar’s influence to obtain the choice plum of Syria. With the intent of destroying the Parthians and amassing another hill of money in addition to glory, he proceeded to the Middle East.

Crassus attacked the Parthians, and continued the onslaught at a time when the Parthian king was celebrating the marriage of his son. The festivities included a performance of Euripides’ Bacchae, which was interrupted by a messenger who presented the King with a trophy – the head and hand of the avaricious and now-deceased Crassus. The Players adroitly appropriated the remains of Crassus to use ever-so-nicely in the climax to Euripides’ drama.

. . .

[from the essay on Frogs by Aristophanes]

The god Dionysus wishes to enter Hades in order to bring back “a genuine poet”, Euripides. He and his servant Xanthius visit Hercules to ask the way underground. The muscle-man ought to know since he once descended and brought the three-headed dog Cerberus to earth’s surface. Dionysus wears a lion-skin and carries a club - à la Hercules - an outfit he thinks will help them below. The laughing Hercules gives him directions.

Arrived below, Dionysus and Xanthius swap and re-swap the lion-skin and club, depending on Dionysus’ appraisal of a friendly or hostile reception. They both are thrashed to see who is the god and who the slave.

. . .

[from the Concluding Comment to Frogs by Aristophanes]

Paganism was undogmatic, tolerant and permissive, often casual, sportive, joyous. Yet it also inspired reverence and awe. Gods and goddesses were worshipped. The holy rituals were solemnly and meticulously performed. Impiety and blasphemy were to be scrupulously avoided.

Remarkably, paradoxically, no sacrilege occurred when placing a god in a starring role in a burlesque comedy. No blasphemy attached to portraying the god – as in Frogs, Dionysus – behaving ludicrously, getting knocked about in slapstick, even squatting to defecate during which procedure he grunts out a religious phrase.

. . .

In Greek paganism, what counted was the motive of what many later religionists would be quick to call a blasphemer. Aristophanes’ obvious intent was comic. He displays an affection for his Bacchic character, and surely that god on Olympus (or wherever) would look down benevolently and smile on the poet, laughing along with him and his audience in the Theatre of Dionysus.

In matters of religion and sex, the Classical Athenians were refreshingly easy-going and open-minded.