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<3 August 1917> |

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| <- The Greek Stage>

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In our first article on dramatic origins, we | traced the development of primitive drama from the | ritual of primitive magic-religions. We now propose | to examine at more leisure the glorious | fructification of ancient ritual in the drama of | Ancient Greece. It is, perhaps, advisable to drop a | word in season upon the importance of Greek culture | in general. Complex civilisations existed for | thousands of years before Greece, but it is to the | Greeks that we trace philosophic, artistic and | democratic origins. This is not merely an historic | accident.

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, is an old | and foolish saw. An ant-hill is a wonderful economic | complex. Its galleries contain storehouses, stables, | hospitals, nurseries and dairies, each managed by | workers thoroughly equipped for that special work. In | addition it has its food gatherers, and its military | caste, all working in perfect order, and without a | hitch. But, who will suggest that any super-ant ever | thought out this system? The whole thing is | automatic, a result of gradually accumulated custom. | The ant has little more individuality than a single | cell of a human body.

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Ancient society much resembled the ant-hill. The | medicine-man of the savage tribe gradually became the | god-king of Egypt, while the totem marriage taboos | developed into civilised marriage laws, but the steps | in the change were largely taken unconsciously. They | grew; they were not planned. Man was their chattel, | not their master.

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Towards the close of the sixth century, B.C., a | process of "intense fusion" that had been taking | place on the shores of the Aegean drew to a close. | The result was a race of "glorious mongrels" ~~ the | Ancient Greeks. says | R. R. Marrett (In | "Anthropology, " Home University | Library ) | And again, | |

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The persistence of automatic civilisation in China | until recent years may be cited as a strong point in | favor of Marrett's contention.

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Now that we are in a position to understand two | important things about a Greek play-first, that it is | portion of a religious festival in honor of Dionysos, | and secondly that it will probably have nothing | whatever to do with Dionysos - we may | venture to enter a Greek Theatre. Unfortunately such | a building does not exist in Perth, nor, indeed, | nearer than San Francisco. (Any tourist's handbook of | California will no doubt, contain a photograph of | this theatre.)

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The central feature is the chorus - | merely a circular space. Around three sides rise tier | upon tier of seats. There is no central aisle, but | generally one on each side. An observer seated | centrally in the amphi-theatre looks across the | chorus to the stage, a relatively small platform, | while before the chorus is the orchestra. There is no | roof, no curtain, very little "scenery," and no | charge for admission. To attend was a right and a | duty of the ancient Athenian.

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Let us enter among the spectator worshippers. We | may sit where we consider our social status entitles | us - certainly not in the front rows, | for there the seats are permanently reserved, and are | provided with backs. But we may venture to inspect | these tiers. The middle seat of the front row is | inscribed with the title of the chief priest of | Dionysos. That is his seat and we may be sure he will | not fail to occupy it. The remaining backed seats are | similarly reserved for the priesthood. It is as | though we attended a play at His Majesty's, and found | the two archbishops occupying the central seats in | the first row of the stalls, and the next two rows | filled by the various clergy of Perth. We are again | reminded that we are about to take part in a | religious festival.

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Our examination of the theatre finished, we await | the play. It is not long before we understand the | relative sizes of the stage and the chorus. | with us. But in the ancient | drama, "the thing" was the chorus. In fact, it is | thought that in the earlier stages of the evolution | from magic ritual to drama, the chorus was | everything, or nearly so.

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It sang the ritual dances, while the single actor | was the priest, who slew the sacred bull. He would be | called upon to recite certain formulae. Gradually a | second, and later a third and fourth actor, with a | speaking part, came to be introduced, and that number | is rarely exceeded, even when the magical character | - the representations of the mysteries | of Bacchus came to be discarded in favor of legends | of the heroic age, like the political satires | - the comedies of Aristophanes. But, | even in the latter, dialogue occupies half of the | play. The rest consists of lyrical composition sung | by the chorus. Sometimes the whole chorus sing | together, sometimes one semi-chorus answers another | and again a sort of part-song is introduced. Then | again we have a typically ritual form in which the | actor addresses the audience from the stage, and the | chorus responds in song.

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As already mentioned, there is very little | scenery. A great portion of what dialogue there is | consists in describing the scene, and in relating | events. Both are done at considerable length, and no | pains are spared to conjure up a very real picture in | the minds of the audience. In | "the Frogs" of Aristophanes we | are taken to the house of Hercules and across the | Styx in Charon's boat, we engage in a scuffle with | Cerberus, the three-headed dog at the gates of hell, | and sit in judgment in the court of Pluto without the | assistance of any but the most meagre stage | furniture.

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Our modern playwright frequently crowds sensation | incident into his work. The ancients avoided it. The | action, largely, is supposed to be performed | elsewhere and is merely reported by the actors. Thus, | in Euripides tragedy Electra, tow murders are | committed, but neither within view of the spectators. | The story runs that Agamemnon, returning from the | Trojan war, was murdered in his bed by his wife, who, | during his ten years' absence, had become enamoured | of Aegisthus, a neighbouring chieftain. Orestes, the | son, fled, while Electra, the daughter, is wedded to | a peasant, so that she might never become the wife of | one whose children carry on Agamemnon's feud with | Aegisthus. But Orestes returns, and slays Aegisthus | by stategem, while Electra lures her mother to her | hut, by pretending that she, Electra, had become | mother to a man-child.

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The murder of Aegisthus is reported to Electra, in | front of her hut, and when Orestes arrives, the pair | murder the mother, Clytemnestra, inside the hut | - out of view of the spectators. The | dramatic element, however, is fully preserved by the | presence of the two dead bodies on the stage. | Orestes, finally, dies in terror, pursued by the | Furies.

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Our best introduction to Greek drama may be had | through the medium of the Australian Professor of | Greek at Oxford - Gilbert Murray. This | remarkably gifted man has translated the plays of | Euripides, and several other works of the time, into | magnificent English verse. None need hesitate to | attempt these words, for the volumes (which can be | obtained for 1/6 in Perth) are supplemented with very | copious notes, which make the rather unfamiliar | allusions understandable to all. Besides | "Electra" , | "Trojan Women" , | and "Iphegenia in | Tauros" might be recommended for a start. The | comedies of Aristophanes can be obtained in a single | volume in the Everyman Library (1/9 from Perth | booksellers). In addition to a selection of the plays | of Euripides and Aristophanes, those who desire to | understand the period should also read | "Ancient Art and | Ritual" and | "Ancient Greece" , in the Home | University Library series.

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The next article on the drama will deal with the | period of the revival of learning in Western | Europe.