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<29 June 1917> |

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Under the above title a series of some three or | four articles is proposed, in the definite hope that | the outcome may be the establishment of a Repertoire | Theatre Society for Perth.

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These theatres are now dealing in a very thorough | manner with the ancient drama, and as it is to Greece | that we must look for dramatic origins, so far as | European literature is concerned, these articles will | be, largely, a study of Greek drama and religion.

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Drama and religion: Even to-day the efforts of | broad churchmen and morality-play writers have scarce | succeeded in spanning the vast gulf between State and | Church. But not only in origin, but also in the | circumstances surrounding the introduction of the | drama into England, stage and church are inseparably | bound up. The miracle plays of mediaeval England were | religious propaganda agencies, with monks as | actors.

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But in Ancient Greece the drama was actually part | of a religious ritual ~~ none other than the festival | of Dionysos (the Bacchus of the Romans). This is hard | enough to understand when we read a play like the | "Trojan | Women" of Euripides in which Dionysos is not | even mentioned, but becomes ten times harder when, as | in the | "Frogs" of Aristophanes, Dionysos is, | indeed, the chief character, but is treated by the | author with but barely concealed scepticism, and with | open ridicule.

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Evidently some great evolution has taken place, if | the Greek drama actually arose as a portion of the | ritual of the Dionysian festival. To understand this | we must know a little of the Greeks, and a little of | Bacchus.

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The latter we today regard as a wine-god. But in | reality he was a god of corn and wine - | a fertility god. True, men got drunk at his | festivals, just as they occasionally get drunk at | Christmas time to-day. But to regard him merely as a | drunken god would be fatal to our understanding of | the spirit of Greek drama.

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What was a fertility-god? To answer that question | we may look, as well as elsewhere, to a not-unknown | sight, even to-day - the Maypole.

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Maypole dances these times are performed by | children. But in some countries, where primitive folk | still live, and in all ancient countries, this dance | is, or was, a very serious business, in which every | adult joined. Everyone knows that the maypole dance | is a revival of an old custom, and most believe it to | be a celebration of the return of Springtime | - to rejoice for the renewed fertility | of earth. But, as Dr Frazer and other learned | authorities assure us, primitive folk believed that | the dance actually brought about fertility in fields | and flocks. In other words, it was a magical | ritual.

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The connection between magic dances and the stage | is, at least, feasible, but when the whole subject of | magic ritual, fertility religions, and ancient drama | is analysed, all room for doubt vanishes.

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The magic ritual, whereby men perform their own | fertility charms, gradually gives way to the religion | of a corn or herd god. All ancient religions took | such forms. The philosophic religions of to-day are a | later development. The main concern of Christianity | is the propagation of a certain moral philosophy. The | same can be said of modern Bhuddism, and even more so | of Confucionism, which has no "theology" at all. But | in ancient Greece a far different state of affairs | prevailed. The philosophers were not priests, or | theologians, but secular scholars, and the priests, | on the other hand, were not concerned with moral | philosophy. The whole religious system was designed | for the physical needs of the community. The priest | who sacrificed the sacred bull, for example, was | merely performing a magical ceremony which in more | simple times, was carried out by the whole community, | who met for a maypole dance.

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The theory of the sacrifice also calls for | explanation. The bull is not offered as a present to | the fertility god, with a lively anticipation of | favors to come. On the contrary, the bull is the god. | The simple Greek who saw the bull slain believed that | he witnessed the slaying of Dionysos himself. If so | privileged, he partook of the flesh, believing that | he was eating his god. With considerable satisfaction | he would watch the axe that struck the fatal blow | duly tried, found guilty and condemned; and finally | he would see the hide stuffed with straw and set on | its feet. His god had come to life again. Later on a | fresh bull would be substituted, and would be the | representative of the god-head for the ensuing year. | So long as the bull were well, all went well; if he | sickened, the crops would fall; for him to die would | be an unthinkable calamity.

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Adonis, Osiris, Tammuz, Hercules, Bacchus, were | all fertility gods, slain annually, in the form of an | animal (or even human) representative, and | resurrected by the replacing of a new sacred animal | for the old.

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It is hard to realise how these gods were regarded | without understanding what manner of world primitive | folk live in. Our universe is ruled by law. Every | effect, with us, must have an adequate cause, but | with the simple children of forest and steppe every | effect must have an immediate cause, which, to our | minds, would appear anything but adequate. In fact, | they believe everything not thoroughly obvious to be | the result of magic. A death, with our blackfellows, | is caused either by material weapons or by a magical | ceremony which consists in an enemy pointing a bone | at the victim. To give an impressive example of this | obsession ~~ anthropologists declare that very | backward savages (including some Central Australian | tribes) do not attribute the paternity of a child to | its mother's husband, but to a sacred stone, or tree | that its mother has touched.

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It is, of course, inconceivable that the educated | Greek believed that the slaying of a sacred bull | actually produced the fertility of plants, animals, | and human beings, but it is quite understandable that | the ceremony of the sacrifice had acquired, for him, | symbolic meaning at variance (at least apparently so) | with its original object: that the ritual had become | to him a holy of holies, embodying the highest and | noblest sentiments of the State. Thus it was that he | continued to attend the festival of Dionysos, with | the full conviction that he was taking part in the | supreme religious function of his country, for | hundreds of years after the priest and his principal | attendant had become the "star" actors, the crowd of | maypole, or sacrificial dancers had evolved into the | chorus, and the subject matter presented had ceased | to have anything to do with Dionysos.

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To trace the Greek drama further and to rub | shoulders with one or two of its exponents will be | the theme of the next article in this series (some | two or three weeks hence). But before leaving the | question of the very early origins of the drama, it | is worth noting that in other lands the development | of a more or less complex social system has been | associated with a similar upgrowth of religious | drama. Thus in India to-day dramatic representations | of the slaying of the giants by Rama, the man-god, | are a regular feature of native life. They give to-day | what is probably a very accurate idea of the | transition stage from magic ritual through which | Greek drama must have passed.

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It seems a far call from a modern maypole dance to | the "ox-murder" of ancient Athens, but in your fair-haired | Queen-o-May surely lives the latest | resurrection of the slain corn gods of the ancient | world.

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Hints about books worth reading on the above | subject (mainly for beginners):~~

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