The character of the Athenian audience as a whole is well exemplified by the stories of their treatment of individual poets. Although they were willing to tolerate the utmost ribaldry upon the stage, and to allow the gods and sacred legends to be burlesqued in the most ridiculous fashion, they were at the same time extremely orthodox in regard to the national religion. Any atheistical sentiments, and any violations of their religious law, were liable to provoke an outburst of the greatest violence. Aeschylus on one occasion was nearly killed in the theatre itself, because he was supposed to have revealed part of the mysteries in the course of a tragedy. He was only saved by flying for refuge to the altar of Dionysus in the orchestra. Euripides also caused a great uproar by beginning his Melanippe with the line: 'Zeus, whoever Zeus be, for I know not save by report,' etc. In a subsequent production of a revised version of the play he altered the line to: 'Zeus, as is reported by truth,' etc. In the same way sentiments which violated the moral feeling of the audience were received with intense indignation, and sometimes resulted in the stoppage of the play. The Danaë of Euripides is said to have been nearly hissed off the stage because of a passage in praise of money. On the other hand, wise and noble sentiments excited great enthusiasm. Aristophanes was rewarded with a chaplet from the sacred olive because of the splendid passage in which he counsels mercy to the disfranchised citizens. Sophocles is said to have been appointed one of the generals in the Samian expedition on account of the excellent political wisdom shown in certain passages of the Antigone. The partiality of the Athenians for idealism in art is shown by the reception which they gave to Phrynichus' tragedy of the Capture of Miletus, an historical drama in which the misfortunes of the Ionians were forcibly portrayed. So far from admiring the skill of the poet, they fined him a thousand drachmas for reminding them of the miseries of their kinsfolk, and passed a law forbidding the reproduction of this particular play. The enthusiasm of the Athenians for the drama was unbounded. Nowhere was the theatre more crowded. In the words of one of the old historians, they 'spent the public revenues on their festivals, were more familiar with the stage than with the camp, and paid more regard to verse-makers than to generals.' The speeches of Demosthenes are full of complaints in the same strain. The eagerness with which dramatic victories were coveted, and the elaborate monuments erected to commemorate them, have already been referred to. . . . It was not, however, till the middle of the fourth century that the devotion to this and similar amusements grew to such a height as to become a positive vice, and to sap the military energies of the people. The Athenians of the fifth century showed that enthusiasm for art and music and the drama was not inconsistent with energy of character. As a matter of fact, the very greatest period of the Attic drama is also the period of the political supremacy of Athens. As far as intelligence and discrimination are concerned, the Athenian audiences were probably superior to any audience of the same size which has ever been brought together. Their keen and rapid intellect was a subject of frequent praise among the ancients, and was ascribed to the exhilarating influence of the Attic climate. They were especially distinguished for the refinement of their taste in matters of art and literature, and for the soberness of judgment with which they rejected any sort of florid exuberance. That they were keenly alive to the attractions of beauty of form and chastened simplicity of style is proved by the fact that Sophocles was by far the most successful of their tragic poets. Though Euripides became more popular among the later Greeks, Sophocles in his own lifetime obtained far more victories than any other tragic writer. At the same time, it is easy to form an exaggerated idea of the refinement of an Attic audience. They were drawn from all classes of the people, and a large proportion were ignorant and uncultured. Plato speaks in the most disparaging terms of them, and charges them with having corrupted the dramatic poets, and brought them down to their own level. His evidence is perhaps rather prejudiced. But Aristotle, who had much greater faith in popular judgment, is not very complimentary. He divides the theatrical audience into two classes, the refined and cultured class on the one hand, and the mass of rough and ignorant artisans on the other. One of his objections to the profession of an actor or musician is that he must accommodate himself to the level of the ignorant part of his audience. He mentions examples in the Poetics of the low level of popular taste, from which it appears that the average spectator in ancient times was, like his modern counterpart, fond of 'happy terminations.' He cared little for the artistic requirements of the composition; his desire was to see virtue rewarded, and vice punished, at the end of a play. Then again, a large part of the audience, Aristotle remarks, were so ignorant as to be unacquainted with the ordinary facts of mythology, which formed the basis of most tragedies. In judging a play, they paid more regard to the actor's voice than to the poet's genius. At the same time, in spite of depreciatory criticisms, it must be remembered that the true criterion of a people's taste is to be found in the character of the popular favorites. The victorious career of Sophocles, lasting over more than fifty years, is a convincing proof of the fact that, at any rate during the fifth century, the dramatic taste of the Athenians was altogether higher than that of an ordinary popular audience. VIII 1 THE GREEK RACE AND ITS GENIUS 1 BY MAURICE CROISET If we wish to trace the intellectual and moral evolution of a people in the history of its literature, it would seem indispensable to determine first of all, as precisely as may be, its original point of departure. What was the people, before it so much as had a literature? What elemental and distinctive qualities did it possess within itself during those times of ignorance and childlike simplicity, when, from afar, and unconsciously, it was preparing for its great achievements to come? To what degree of perfection had these qualities advanced when it saw fit to turn them to account in its first poetical productions? These questions naturally suggest themselves to us. But with respect to Greece we lack the documents that would give us satisfactory answers. Before there was a nation that could properly be called Hellenic, the ethnic elements which were one day to constitute it had each a separate existence; then, by a series of combinations which still remain obscure, they were gathered into groups, or superimposed one upon another. Even the names of these primitive stocks are imperfectly known to us; and, in spite of the daily disclosures of archaeology, the glimpses we catch of the state of their morals and the characteristics of their civilization amount to very little. We discern these pre-Hellenic races of Asia Minor and the islands through a sort of haze; the Pelasgians scattered here and there, the Danai, and the Achaeans, whose name reappears on ancient Egyptian monuments. Their temples, their tombs, and their fortresses have been partially restored for us by the unceasing research of scholars. One may assemble and study the more or less rude products of the industry of these early people, [1 This extract is translated from the Histoire de la Littérature Grecque (1.1-19) of Alfred and Maurice Croiset (Paris, 1896); and the translation is published by an arrangement with Fontemoing & Cie., of Paris. Of the admirable French work, in five volumes, it is hardly too much to say that, on the whole, it is the best history of any literature in any language.-EDITOR.] and examine the objects that were for them works of art, in an attempt to discover some indication of their taste, of their mental culture, and of the foreign influences they underwent. Such investigations are full of interest and of promise, but as yet they have been carried only a little way. Not until that day when science can demonstrate with certainty the order in which these races or these tribal groups followed each other, and can distinguish the peculiar characteristics of each of these prehistoric societies, will the history of Greek literature be in possession of its real startingpoint. Then we shall be able to see the Greek genius come into being and grow, to enumerate the essential elements of which it is composed, and to comprehend what it owes to its remote origins, to foreign influences, to the mingling of races, and to its own vigor. It is thus that modern peoples are studied; let us hope that in a not distant future Greece may be known and described in the same way. For the present, an application of this method would be too conjectural. We should bewilder our readers with prolonged discussions, or involve them in pure hypothesis; and they would be little aided in their understanding of the subject we are about to consider with them. Let us therefore defer these hopes, and content ourselves with briefly setting forth such things as are certain. Whatever the manner of its formation, we know that the Greek genius had taken shape before the birth of the Iliad. Let us try to represent it for ourselves here in its most essential and, consequently, most primitive features, and let us ignore the subsidiary traits, which revealed themselves only at certain times and under special conditions. The first thing that strikes one in the Hellenic race is the variety of its talents. The old Roman, Juvenal, bitterly assailed, by the mouth of Umbricius, the versatility of the Greeks of the decadence who overran Rome, and deemed themselves fit for any occupation.2 Though it must not be taken too seriously, this sally of a satirical poet in a fit of anger undeniably contains an element of truth. What the Roman ridiculed, so serious an observer as Thucydides admired in the Athenians of his day; and in versatility, as in 2 Juvenal, Satires 3. 73 ff.: Ingenium velox, audacia perdita, sermo Promptus et Isaeo torrentior. Ede quid illum Esse putes; quemvis hominem secum adtulit ad nos: 3 Thucydides 2. 41. 1. |