CHAPTER I

THE INFLUENCE OF GREEK TRAGEDY UPON ANCIENT ART OUTSIDE OF THE VASES

§ 1. INTRODUCTORY.

Painting as a fine art has never been developed to any great degree of perfection independent of literature. The two are, in a sense, handmaids, each inspiring the other and assisting it to solve new problems. A great literature is, furthermore, a necessary precursor of great achievements in art, since the latter is the more dependent of the two, and seeks its inspiration from the poet. This may not be clear to one who looks about at painting in this age of eclecticism, and endeavours to satisfy himself that literature and art are thus related, and that the former is required to give the initial impetus to the latter. The principle can, however, be made plain by going back nearer the fountain spring of modern literary and artistic development. One should turn to the Italian Renaissance of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries—to the period when Dante became the teacher and guide of artistic notions—in order to observe the full meaning and force of the supremacy of literature. There, where for the first time in the modern world a great genius fashioned the thought of more than a century, one can study easily the power of the poet over the artist. The influence of Dante upon artistic notions from Giotto down to the present has, indeed, been incalculably great. No painter of the _quattrocento_, at least, worked in any other than the Dantesque spirit; whether consciously or unconsciously, he was under the spell of the father of Italian letters. Dante’s Hell and Paradise became the Hell and Paradise of Signorelli and Michel Angelo. Botticelli, Flaxman, Doré, and many others left their canvasses and frescoes to interpret the hidden secrets of the _Divina Commedia_. The great Christian Epic which Cornelius developed through many years of study and contemplation of Dante, and which he considered the crowning work of his life, is told in the altar fresco of the Ludwig’s Church in Munich. Yet this is but one of the many monumental works of this century which owes its existence to this poet. Delacroix’s ‘Barque of Dante,’ exhibited in the Paris _Salon_ of 1822, has been called the first real painting of the century. When one turns to England there is Rossetti, with ‘Beatrice and Dante,’ ‘Dante’s Dream,’ and several other famous paintings that witness again to the influence of the Italian poet. But one may remark that Dante’s position in the history of human progress is unique. This is true. The world has not known another whose authority was so absolute or whose philosophy appeared so final. The influence of poets of less power has been correspondingly smaller. The principle, however, remains true. The poet ventures where the boldest artist has not gone and prepares, as it were, the way for him.

The closest parallel to Dante’s influence upon the trend of artistic notions must be looked for in ancient Greece; Homer must be named with Dante. The Homeric poetry has exercised a power which the _Divina Commedia_ has scarcely surpassed; the thousand and more streams of influence which rose in the Greek epic literature went out in every direction to water the fields of art and letters in Greece and Rome, and flowed on again after Petrarch’s time, and are to-day mighty forces. Events and incidents of the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ have taken so permanent a place in modern art that one hardly stops to think that this or that is from Homer. But this company of persons which the world calls Homer was not the only vital force that shaped men’s thoughts and furnished the artist with fresh inspiration. The tragic poets are to be named with Homer. Had Aischylean, Sophoklean, and Euripidean elements not entered into ancient and modern works of art the world would never have known some of its most beautiful monuments. This is not, however, the place to linger over the influence of the Greek epic and tragic literature in modern times, interesting though this would be. It is in ancient times, when there was still among the people a peculiar interest in the mythic legends, that the contact of poet and artist is most apparent; it is with the three Greek tragedians that we have to do at present, and some traces of their work may be pointed out in the various classes of monuments before the vase paintings are examined.

§ 2. TRAGIC INFLUENCES IN SCULPTURE.

1. _Greek Sculpture._

One does not expect the sculptor’s notions to be largely shaped by a definite situation in literature, as he has little to do with illustration; his art is too severe and confined to reproduce the dramatic and pathetic with great success. There is accordingly little direct influence of the Greek tragic literature over ancient sculpture except on the sarcophagi. Of the monuments belonging to the fifth century B.C., which owe their existence indirectly to the drama, three reliefs occupy the foremost place. These are the well-known Orpheus[1], Peliades[2], and Peirithoös[3] reliefs, all of which belong close to the time of the Parthenon frieze. Reisch has made it clear that these works were conceived and carried out in the spirit of the tragic drama[4]. They are claimed, indeed, as dedicatory offerings in memory of particular tragic exhibitions, but no attempt is made to name any poet or tragedy with which they were connected. Whether one is correct in holding these reliefs as ἀναθήματα, certain it is that in every particular they breathe forth the spirit of tragedy. The triple group in each has been pointed out as corresponding to the three actors. This, however, is an outer sign that might serve to indicate their origin. The relation of the figures to each other—the conflict of soul which one may observe—the pathos that pervades the groups—these are so unlike anything that occurs on the earlier monuments that a person involuntarily asks himself whence the artists received their motives. Tragedy provides the answer. The parting scene between Alkestis and Admetos which Euripides describes so beautifully belongs to the same decade as does the Orpheus relief. This touching episode may well have been the incentive to some such work as the parting between Orpheus and Eurydike. In all three instances the sculptor was at any rate occupied with the problems which concerned the tragic poet, and he reproduced true echoes of dramatic situations.

Related to these reliefs is another class of monuments which grew out of the tragic performances. From the middle of the fifth century B.C.[5] till at least the close of the third century B.C.[6] it was customary for the successful choregos to dedicate the tripod that the state had given him as a prize. The magnificence and elaborateness accompanying this ceremony can be learned from the still extant Lysikrates monument upon which the tripod once stood and on the intercolumniations of which tripods in relief are represented. A street in Athens was given over to the exposition of these prizes. Pausanias states that they were of bronze and stood on temples[7]. More important still for us in this connexion is the fact that together with the tripod, probably under the kettle, it was the custom to set up a figure of a satyr or Dionysos or Nike[8]. This practice does not appear to have been older than the time of Praxiteles. So it is that one learns of his famous satyr which Pausanias mentions in connexion with one of the tripods[9]. The Greek of this passage does not admit of a satisfactory interpretation, and it is not possible therefore to determine what the attitude of the figure was. It is probable that the statue which was thus intimately associated with the Dionysiac performances was the περιβόητος satyr of Praxiteles, existing in so many copies and known throughout English literature as the ‘Marble Faun.’ One can easily understand that this class of choregic monuments was alone of great importance, and that through this channel the tragic performances worked a wide influence over sculpture. There was a vast number of statues in bronze and marble that thus arose from the exigencies of the theatre. Along with these works may be classed the numerous pieces of sculpture that were put up as decorations for the theatre. Such were the εἰκόνες mentioned by Pausanias as being in the Dionysiac theatre at Athens. The periegete names the statues of Aischylos, Sophokles, Euripides, and Menander[10].

A large number of reliefs that represent Dionysos receiving the worship of mortals, or advancing in a train of satyrs before a man lying on a couch, makes up another class of sculpture, which probably owed its origin to the drama. On the Peiraieus[11] relief three persons carrying tragic masks advance before the god who reclines upon a _kline_. The work may possibly be dated as early as the close of the fifth century B.C.[12] It is at any rate an early example of the influence of the tragic muse upon sculpture. The so-called Ikarios reliefs illustrating Dionysos’ first appearance in Attica, and the consequent origin of tragedy, may not refer to Ikarios at all, but are nevertheless to be linked to tragedy in some way, as the masks clearly show[13]. They may have been purely decorative work, or were perhaps offerings of actors.

It remains to speak of a few monuments which seem to have been more directly under the influence of particular tragedies. One hears, for example, that the sculptor Seilanion made a ‘Dying Iokaste.’[14] This notion would appear to have been borrowed from some play. One may think of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ of Sophokles or the _Phoinissai_ of Euripides. Of far greater importance is the relief on one of the columns from Ephesos which is known to every one[15]. The most satisfactory interpretation of this work so far offered explains the scene as Alkestis being delivered from Death. The heroine, rescued from Thanatos by Hermes, is being conducted to the upper world again. Unfortunately there is no agreement among archaeologists on this explanation[16]. Until a better one is brought forward, however, this important monument may be held as evidence for the influence exerted by Euripides’ handling of this popular myth. The _Alkestis_ is known to have been exceptionally well received.

If tragic influences are only possibly at hand in the fragment from Ephesos, the excavations at Pergamon have brought to light extensive remains of reliefs that were inspired by Attic tragedy. The Telephos frieze, now in Berlin, is directly associated with the drama. The mythic founder of Pergamon had a long and varied career, which was told in dramatic form by both Sophokles and Euripides. The suggestions for the reliefs in question came from the _Auge_ and _Telephos_ of the latter, and the _Mysoi_ of the former[17]. In these fragments one can see distinctly the high esteem in which the Attic drama was held at the court of the Attalidai. I know of no Greek sculpture which comes so near being an illustration of tragedy as does this frieze.

Another work of monumental greatness belonging to about the same period and exhibiting unmistakable signs of tragic influence is the Farnese Bull in the National Museum in Naples[18]. This colossal group, which represents Dirke being tied to a rampant bull by Amphion and Zethos, the sons of Antiope, is characterized by a passion and violence that are late products in Greek sculpture. Such motives made their appearance first in the fourth century B.C. Niobe and her children are the earliest representation on a grand scale of these elements that are so akin to the drama. Such compositions were first possible with Praxiteles and Skopas who broke away from the traditions of the Pheidian age. The generation that saw a new type of Dionysos and of Aphrodite, and could appreciate the frenzied maenad of Skopas, had been prepared for these new motives very largely through the theatre. The drama had not a little to do with impressing the artist and his public with the importance of delineating the human feelings. In the case of the Niobe group one would not attempt to point out any special influence of the _Niobe_ of Aischylos or Sophokles, and still there is little doubt in my own mind that the sculptor was more or less influenced by the tragic literature. May not Praxiteles or Skopas, each of whom shares the credit of the Niobe group, have been led to the pathetic look upon the mother’s face by the lines of one of these lost plays? This new tendency in sculpture reached its highest expression in the Laokoön and the Farnese Bull. The latter can be traced to the influence of Euripides’ _Antiope_, which appears to have been the source of all Dirke monuments in ancient art; there is no dissenting voice as to Euripides’ right to occupy the honourable position thus assigned[19] him. Reference has already been made to the Laokoön[20] as representing the culmination of tragedy in marble. The view held by Lessing and many others that Virgil was the sculptors’ authority has been abandoned long since. The Pergamon altar frieze has enabled us to fix the date of the Laokoön with approximate correctness. It is surely some centuries older than the _Aeneid_ and stands therefore in a possible relation to the _Laokoön_ of Sophokles. Yet here again opinions vary widely. Sophokles’ play is lost, and the few remaining fragments are not enough to enable one to make a satisfactory reconstruction. The story came down from the epic literature, and, like so many incidents in the fall of Troy, needed no further popularization in order to appeal to the artist. That Sophokles’ tragedy, however, was wholly without any influence on the Rhodian sculptors who so tragically and realistically represented Apollo’s vengeance on his priest seems to me highly improbable. Such a conception as found expression in this masterpiece of sculpture may well have sprung from the masterpiece in poetry which was at hand in Sophokles’ _Laokoön_[21].

2. _The Etruscan Ash-urns._

The reliefs on the Etruscan and Roman sarcophagi carry us to Italian soil and furnish us with a much larger field for pursuing our subject than could be found in Greek sculpture. Of all the Italian races with whom the Greeks came into contact, the Etrurians were by far the most advanced in civilization; and during the centuries of active commercial relations between the two peoples this nation, whose origin is the puzzle of historians, and whose language is the _crux_ of philologists, came more under the influence of Greek literature and art than any of the Latin races that remained unhellenized. They have left abundant evidence of these hellenizing influences. In various classes of monuments which may still be studied—urns, mirrors, cistae, tomb-paintings, and vases—one discovers Greek mythology and poetry. The national mythology of the Etruscans is so much of an exception in their art, and the Greek is so universally adopted, that one is at a loss to account for the strange fact. On hundreds of Etruscan monuments one sees the workings of Greek poetry, which found its way into Etruria before Livius Andronicus produced the first tragedy in Rome 240 B.C. That the Greek drama was introduced for the most part directly and not through the medium of the early Latin tragedians, is shown by the fact that the latter flourished in the second and first centuries B.C., while the urns exhibiting tragic subjects are, for the most part, from the third century B.C. Some may, indeed, date from the fourth century. Roman tragedy can not be said to have really become at all a matter of general interest before Ennius went to Rome in 204 B.C. He died 169 B.C., and one should not think that the influence of these Latin adaptations and translations of Greek plays took an immediate hold upon the neighbouring Etruscans. Such elements percolate gradually into the various strata of national life, to say nothing of the time required to reach a foreign people whose language and customs are so different. But the _summus epicus poeta_[22] was not the most popular or most prolific pilferer of Greek plays. His tragedies numbered only about twenty. _In Accio circaque eum Romana tragoedia est_[23]; and the probable truth of this statement is well attested by the list of fifty plays that have come down to us under Accius’ name. This poet, however, was born 170 B.C. and first exhibited tragedies in 140 B.C. It is therefore very doubtful whether one can rightly speak of the influence of Latin tragedy upon the Etruscan artists. One dare not, at any rate, bring the ash-urns too far into the second century B.C., as Brunn and those immediately under his teaching formerly did. More recent investigations have proved the chronological impossibility of interpreting these reliefs with the help of Ennius, Accius, and Pacuvius.

Without taking time and space to review the arguments on which the interpretations of the reliefs are based it will be enough for my purpose to simply add a list of the scenes which one may reasonably refer to Greek tragedy. Examining the first volume of Brunn’s _I rilievi delle urne etrusche_, which is devoted to urns with scenes from the Trojan Cycle, one learns that those presenting a version of the stories ascribable to the tragic poets exceed those that are based on the _Iliad_, _Odyssey_, and other epics. The representation of Paris’ return to his Trojan home is, with one exception[24], the most frequent. The thirty-four reliefs were referred, even in the time of the former late dating, to Euripides’ Ἀλέξανδρος[25]. The fate of Telephos was, according to Aristotle, a common subject for a tragedy[26]. We have already met the story on the Pergamon frieze, and it is very frequent on the Etruscan urns. Telephos grasps the young Orestes and threatens his life on the altar after the manner of the drama. It may be the influence of Aischylos or Euripides, but if one judges from the comparative popularity of these poets in this period he would be inclined to assign the first place to the latter[27]. The offering of Iphigeneia occurs on twenty-six urns, nearly all of which were found in the vicinity of Perugia[28]. It was again unquestionably Greek tragedy that was the incentive for these scenes. Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides may all share the credit of having furnished the literary source. A smaller series of urns representing Odysseus’ adventure in taking Philoktetes from Lemnos is also to be placed under the influence of the fifth century tragedy[29]. The δόλιος Ὀδυσσεύς is seen playing his part as cleverly as he does in the extant play of Sophokles. The attitude of Philoktetes standing before Neoptolemos, having in two cases the arrow in his hand, corresponds well to the character drawn by this poet. The injured chieftain displays his courage and scoffs at the thought of being carried away by the detested Odysseus. The murder of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra represented on seventeen urns has been shown by Schlie to be essentially Euripidean[30]. The arrival of Orestes and Pylades at the precinct of the Tauric Artemis is possibly the subject of three reliefs[31]. This would also take one directly to Euripides[32]. The following are published in the second volume of the _Urne etrusche_ by Körte. Medeia escapes on her dragon-chariot, driving over the bodies of her children[33]—an echo of the great tragedy that exercised so wide an influence in other fields of art[34]. The punishment of Dirke on four reliefs is based without question on the _Antiope_ of Euripides[35]. The blinding of Oedipus at the hands of Laios’ sons seems to have been an invention of the same poet and is recognized in another relief[36]. The Theban fratricide and the assault on the city were both much-prized subjects[37]. Körte points out many features common to the numerous reliefs and the _Phoinissai_ of Euripides[38]. The death of Alkmene is represented on five urns which one would associate with the _Alkmene_ of the same poet[39]. Euripides’ Κρῆτες is traceable on seven reliefs, showing the legend of Daidalos and Pasiphaë[40]. Theseus’ fight with the Minotaur occurs four times and reminds us of Euripides’ _Theseus_[41]. The death of Hippolytos on eight reliefs does not present any essential variation from the extant Greek tragedy[42]. Perseus and Andromeda are met with likewise and emphasize the wide popularity of Euripides’ play[43]. The famous legend of Oinomaos’ death and Pelops’ triumph occurs on thirty-one urns[44]. It can be shown that these were inspired by one or more of the lost tragedies that dealt with the subject[45]. The Μελέαγρος of Euripides appears to have been the source of at least three of the many reliefs representing the Kalydonian Hunt[46]. To this long list of urns based on Euripidean tragedies one must still add seven that were probably inspired by this poet’s Μελανίππη ἡ σοψή and three more that follow his Μελανίππη ἡ δεσμῶτις[47].

More than two-thirds of the more than four hundred Etruscan urns examined are decorated with sculpture based on Greek tragedy, and in nearly all instances the drama was Euripidean. Such are the instructive facts regarding this important class of monuments.

3. _Roman Sarcophagi._

Under the expression ‘Roman sarcophagi’ one understands those of the first and second centuries A.D. unless the expression is further qualified. Sarcophagi from the time of the Republic are very rare and they are withal modest in their workmanship. The florid decorations of the time of the Empire, and especially of the period just noted, are often of secondary interest, but the reliefs on the sarcophagi are for the most part of prime importance, as furnishing reminiscences of lost tragedies and ancient paintings of great renown. The majority are copies of very ordinary merit, while now and then a sarcophagus relief is not unworthy a Greek artist of the fourth century B.C.

It is a commonly known fact that long before the Laokoön, or the Farnese Bull, or the Apollo Belvidere was unearthed in the sixteenth and fifteenth centuries—long before the classical antiquities of Rome, Florence, and Naples had attracted students and lovers of art—the sculptures of these sarcophagi, scattered about in cathedrals and palaces, had begun to teach the Italian artist what the human figure really is, and what composition and decoration should be. The Renaissance artist first learned the charm and simplicity of the ancient costume from these marbles and perceived how vastly superior this was to the heavy, conventional church-dress that concealed the outlines of the form and rendered grace and beauty impossible. The study of the antique, we have reason to believe, was in the early Renaissance largely a study of these Roman sarcophagi.

There is no need of going into detail. It will be enough to hint at the most important monuments of this class that stand under the influence of Greek tragedy. Whether they are a direct product of the Greek plays or are founded on the Latin translations, or whether they represent copies of Greek paintings based on Greek tragedy—this is for the present purpose all one and the same. It is not necessary to determine whence the incentive came. The important fact for one to grasp first is, that a surprisingly large number of the reliefs owe their existence to the tragic drama, and that these sculptures should be brought into one’s study of the tragic poets[48].

The series of reliefs illustrating Euripides’ _Alkestis_ is of prime importance for one who wishes to see in art a scene worthy of the poet[49]. The touching farewell of Alkestis as she reclines upon her death-bed is in each instance the centre of the groups on the long side. Around her gathers the whole family. The children draw up close to their mother’s side. Her parents are also present, and this lends more interest to the sight, for they could scarcely be absent although the poet does not mention them in this connexion. The last words of Alkestis, and Admetos’ reply, form the real charm of the play. All else falls far behind these speeches, and following one of the gems in Greek literature the artist could afford to assign his illustration the first place on the reliefs. Arranged on either side are the other incidents of the drama, following the poet with considerable faithfulness. In this connexion should be mentioned the relief in Florence, also based upon the same source[50].

The Hippolytos sarcophagi are, so far as I know, the most numerous of those that are dependent upon tragedy. If we possess more than a score, either entire or in fragments, after the destructive elements have been at work on them since antiquity, there is reason to believe that many times this number were once in existence. Copies were made in large numbers, and many a Roman was laid to rest behind the tragedy in marble which in the _Hippolytos_ of Euripides has continued with some interruptions to move the sympathies of the civilized world for more than two thousand years. The reliefs are in the main faithful illustrations of Euripides. One or two situations are foreign to him, and these would suggest the influence of a Roman poet. It is unnecessary to do more here than to refer to the following chapter, where the whole question finds a further discussion[51].

‘The Orestes myth appears upon the sarcophagi exclusively in the form given to it by the Attic drama. The first part—the slaying of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra—follows the _Oresteia_ of Aischylos. The second part—the meeting of Iphigeneia and Orestes and the rape of the Tauric idol—is based upon the _Iphigeneia in Tauris_ of Euripides.’[52] One exception only is noted and this appears to represent the influence of a later play which handled the subject of the _Oresteia_[53]. The scenes on the other sarcophagi are indeed illustrations of Aischylos. In each case the final moment of the _Choephoroi_, when the Furies rush in upon the murderer, guilty of a mother’s blood, is chosen for the middle group. Right and left from this the succeeding events are arranged. The right end scene invariably represents Orestes as he is about to escape from the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi and go to Athens. He picks his way with circumspection over the sleeping Furies, and one is led up to the triumphal verdict of the _Eumenides_[54]. Robert has shown very clearly the relation of these sculptures to Aischylos’ words, and it is enough to refer to his discussion.

The Iphigeneia-Orestes sarcophagi breathe from first to last the spirit of Euripides. A study of them is scarcely less instructive than a reading of the play. Step by step the story is unfolded. Orestes and Pylades are taken captives and stand before the priestess, whose dreadful office is made more horrible by the remains of human sacrifices that are fastened up around the sanctuary; the recognition scene with the letter follows. Then Iphigeneia appears with the idol in her arms, and asks Thoas’ permission to go and purify it in the sea. The two Greeks stand bound, ready to follow her, and last of all comes the _mêlée_ at the ship. One after another of the barbarians is laid low by the strong arms of Orestes and Pylades. Iphigeneia is placed safely aboard with the image, and one sees the beginning of the homeward journey that closed the history of the house of Atreus[55].

The Euripidean _Medeia_ is discussed at length in another place, and I have pointed out there the part that the sarcophagi occupy in art representations of the tragedy[56]. The two extremes of touching tenderness and violent passion, which no one ever combined more successfully in one character than did Euripides in his Medeia, come prominently to the foreground in these reliefs. I know of no monuments of ancient art that grasp the spirit of a Greek tragedy more effectually than the Medeia sarcophagi. The strange and secret power of the sorceress hovers over and pervades the whole. The dreadful vengeance exacted by the slighted queen is shown in the most graphic manner. Standing before the Berlin replica, which is the best preserved and most beautiful of all the sculptures, one cannot but feel that he is face to face with a marvellous illustration of the great tragedy. The marble all but breathes; the dragons of Medeia’s chariot may be heard to hiss.

A small number of other monuments of this class belongs to the ‘Seven against Thebes,’ and, as in the case of the Etruscan urns, the _Phoinissai_ of Euripides is the main source of the illustrations. Perhaps Seneca’s _Phoenissae_ also entered into the work. Robert conjectures that Euripides’ _Oedipus_ may have furnished suggestions for parts of the scenes[57].

The _Philoktetes_ of Sophokles is illustrated on one relief very much in the manner of the Etruscan urns already referred to. The wounded Philoktetes stands at the mouth of the cave and speaks to Neoptolemos on the right. Odysseus keeps safely out of sight on the left[58].

The story of Pasiphaë’s unholy love is told on a fragment of a sarcophagus in the Louvre[59]; Daidalos and his cunning work play the leading part. The ultimate literary authority was Euripides’ Κρῆτες. The latter may not have been used directly, as the myth enjoyed after this play a continuous popularity. The relief on one end represents a fruit offering, and as this would agree with the vegetarian vow of the chorus, Robert prefers to recognize a direct connexion with Euripides[60].

Mention may be made lastly of the Meleager sarcophagi, which, like the Etruscan urns, have much in common with Euripides’ Μελέαγρος[61].

§ 3. THE INFLUENCE OF TRAGEDY ON PAINTING.

Our knowledge of Greek painting is entirely literary. No vestige of this art has survived that one may study the real monuments. The wall paintings of Pompeii and Herculaneum are, however, a sort of recompense for this loss, and with these and the assistance of Pliny and a few other writers one can get some notion of certain masterpieces of ancient painting. But the records are at the most very scant, and the student has, after all, to allow his imagination to fill in many gaps.

1. _On Greek Painting._

The first probable point of contact between tragedy and painting is in the time of Polygnotos. The series of paintings mentioned by Pausanias as being in the Propylaia _may_ be brought under the name of the great painter, since it is expressly stated that two of the ten were from his hand[62]. Among the subjects were Odysseus fetching Philoktetes from Lemnos; Orestes slaying Aigisthos; Polyxena on the point of being sacrificed at Achilles’ tomb. The question arises, have these works any connexion with the drama? If Polygnotos was the author of all the paintings, the period of his activity excludes both Sophoklean and Euripidean influence in the Philoktetes scene. The _Philoktetes_ of Sophokles is known to have been produced in 409 B.C., and the same play by Euripides appeared in the trilogy with the _Medeia_ in 431 B.C. This leaves Aischylos’ tragedy, which could have served Polygnotos’ purpose. Orestes killing Aigisthos seems also a possible product of the _Oresteia_, but Pylades engaging the sons of Nauplios who came to the usurper’s assistance renders the Aischylean source improbable. Polyxena’s sacrifice is described by Euripides in the _Hekabe_[63], and was the subject of Sophokles’ _Polyxene_[64]. Nothing, however, can be made out of the few fragments belonging to the latter. The character of this picture, in which πάθος excluded ἦθος, led Robert to assign it to the fourth century and base it upon Euripides[65]. All these subjects are from the Trojan Cycle, and agree well with what is known of Polygnotos’ taste in selecting his legends. One has but to recall the painting in the Lesche of the Knidians at Delphi—τὸ μὲν σύμπαν τὸ ἐν δεξιᾷ τῆς γραφῆς Ἴλιός τέ ἐστιν ἑαλωκυῖα καὶ ἀπόπλους ὁ Ἑλλήνων[66]—to learn that the drama was not essential to inspire Polygnotos. On the other hand, a closer examination of the Philoktetes-Orestes legend reveals the fact that the crafty Ithacan’s part in bringing Philoktetes from Lemnos was an invention of the Attic drama[67]. The tragedians placed Odysseus in the room occupied by Diomede in the Trojan Cycle. It is absolutely necessary therefore to place this painting under the influence of tragedy, whether it was by Polygnotos and inspired by Aischylos or by a later artist and inspired by one or more of the three tragedies. If the Polygnotos authorship be rejected (and as it is based on pure conjecture there is nothing to forbid placing it aside), one is at liberty to point out a relation between these works and later tragic literature, as has already been done in the case of the Polyxena scene.

In the latter half of the fifth century B.C. painting appears to have reflected pronounced tendencies of the drama. The legends of the heroic time when tried in the crucible of the dramatic poet appealed more strongly to the imagination of the artist who had been accustomed to epic severeness and calmness. The conventionality and regulation types gave way, and the tragic drama remained thereafter the vital force in shaping the character of paintings occupied with heroic legends. At this time we learn of a Telephos by Parrhasios, which one naturally associates with Euripides or Aischylos[68]. The Iphigeneia of Timanthes was a work that was scarcely possible but for the fresh interest awakened in the story by the three tragedians[69]. It is highly probable again that Euripides was the inspiration for the Andromeda of Nikias[70] and the Medeia of Timomachus[71]. These were both works of great renown. Apollodoros’ painting representing the Herakleidai can with some certainty be referred to Euripides’ tragedy[72]. Theorus, a Samian, painted Orestes slaying Aigisthos and Klytaimestra, and could hardly have worked independent of Aischylos[73]. The fate of Pentheus and Lykurgos was painted in the younger of the two temples in the Dionysiac precinct south of the Acropolis[74]. The date of this temple has been fixed at approximately 400 B.C.[75] The punishment of Pentheus was particularly popular with the tragedians, and the dependence of this painting on the play of Aischylos or Euripides is all but certain. The former’s _Lykurgeia_ was the source of the numerous vase paintings of Lower Italy representing the madness of the Thracian king[76], and one may infer that this painting mentioned by Pausanias was essentially the Aischylean Lykurgos. In the same place were two other scenes from the career of Dionysos. Ariadne was represented as being forsaken by Theseus and rescued by the god, and in another place Dionysos was conducting Hephaistos to Olympos. Euripides’ _Theseus_ handled the love episode in the first of the two latter, and this play was probably not without its effect upon the popularity of the story which was of frequent occurrence, particularly in Pompeii[77]. This poet’s power in dealing with love exploits and depicting the sad case of unrequited love and the attending calamities, was a new force in literature and a never-failing spring from which the painter could draw. These compositions are one and all connected with Dionysos, while three of them are parallel with subjects handled in tragedy. Such scenes were possible only after the drama had popularized the subjects and prepared the way, so to speak, for the reception of the same in art. Even though one does not go so far as to contend that these paintings were an outgrowth of tragedy, they must be accepted as signs of the increasing interest in Dionysos and his worship—and this was primarily the Greater Dionysia, where the first editions of Greek tragedies were published. This was the period of Zeuxis and Parrhasios—the time when Euripidean πάθος was shaping artistic conceptions.

2. _The Wall Paintings of Pompeii and Herculaneum._

The Pompeian wall paintings, representing scenes from tragedy, are largely reminiscences of earlier paintings, and many famous works that have already been referred to are doubtless preserved in more or less exact copies in these invaluable monuments. Besides the Medeia and Andromeda, which have been noticed above, there is a series of paintings based on the Hippolytos-Phaidra casualty[78], and another representing the sacrifice of Iphigeneia[79]. The latter exhibit a marked similarity to the work of Timanthes and the final scene in Euripides’ _Iphigeneia at Aulis_. Several important paintings represent the meeting of Orestes and Iphigeneia in the Tauric sanctuary, and there can be no question regarding the decided dramatic colouring here[80]. Two pictures are based on the Telephos legend, and remind one again of the Pergamon frieze and the relation of this to Euripides and Sophokles[81]. Daidalos with his wooden cow before Pasiphaë was another favourite Euripidean story told at Pompeii[82]. The excavations in 1895 brought to light an unusual number of priceless treasures in the _casa dei Vettii_. Among the paintings was one showing the death of Pentheus[83]. The maenads are hurling stones at him and thrusting him through with their thyrsoi; the wildness of the locality and the tone of the whole work make it highly probable that Euripides’ _Bakchai_ was the artist’s inspiration. Mention may be made lastly of the punishment of Dirke, told in several paintings[84]. After what has been said touching the Farnese Bull, it is not necessary to point out again the part played in the Dirke monuments by Euripides’ _Antiope_.

A glance at this brief sketch of ancient paintings on tragic subjects cannot but impress one with the permanent and far-reaching influence of the tragic poet over the painter. The striking fact that stands out prominently before all others is the firm hold exercised by Euripides. Note the following subjects—Andromeda, Dirke, Hippolytos, Iphigeneia at Aulis, Medeia. Each of these characters has stamped upon it the form given by this poet. Others after him adapted and translated his work, but the ultimate authority remains none the less the Greek tragedian, and neither the ancient nor the modern world accepts any other than the Euripidean Andromeda, Hippolytos, or Medeia[85].

§ 4. TRAGIC ELEMENTS ON THE ETRUSCAN MIRRORS.

The engravers of the mirrors were less inventive than were the sculptors of the ash-urns, and they moved in a much narrower sphere. Their work is for the most part that of the ordinary mechanic whose hand is none too sure. The compositions taken from tragedy are common with those already met with on the Etruscan sarcophagi. There are Orestes and Pylades at the temple of the Tauric Artemis[86]; the Kalydonian Hunt, following the Μελέαγρος[87]; Daidalos constructing the wooden cow[88]; Polyxena taking her farewell of Hekabe[89]; three scenes from the Telephos legend[90]; the parting scene between Alkestis and Admetos[91]; and Prometheus chained to the Caucasus[92]. These instances at least may be adduced to emphasize the fact of the wide-spread familiarity of the Etruscans with tragedy. There is no doubt whatever that in these common everyday articles, as well as on their sarcophagi, the Etruscans had illustrations of the tragic poetry that may have been brought to them by troops of ‘Dionysiac artists’[93].

§ 5. GREEK TRAGEDY AND THE ‘MEGARIAN BOWLS.’

Intermediate between sculpture and vase paintings appears a remarkably interesting class of vases, or rather cups, which are decorated with a band of relief. Certain of these are so intimately connected with the drama, and with Euripides in particular, that at least a brief reference should be made to them here. Examples of this ware are to be seen in nearly every large museum, and I have seen fit to include reproductions of three in the present work, as well as a small fragment of a fourth[94]. The inscriptions and general style of the vases lead one to date them in the second or third century B.C. They are surely not later than this, and not much earlier. They owe their origin to a wide-spread interest in the older Greek poets. The majority of the reliefs represent scenes from the Trojan and Theban Cycles, and illustrate some poetical work. We have to do at this time with those that are related to tragedy. It is plain from a casual glance at the nature of the compositions taken from tragic literature that it was not the words of the poet that suggested the figures to the artist so much as the theatrical performances themselves. The posings, gestures, groupings—in short, the general attempt at effect, take one past the written work to the Hellenistic stage. The motives are borrowed from Euripides, as played in the second- and third-century theatre. The humble artist who conceived these designs had visited the exhibitions of the _Iphigeneia at Aulis_ or of the _Phoinissai_, and received fresh ideas for his work. It is necessary to emphasize the fact that these little monuments date from the time when the dominating force in art was the tragic drama. The influence of the theatre was felt among all classes of people. The guilds of Dionysiac actors travelled around from one village to another, and from one city to another, producing their _répertoire_ from the three great tragedians, and, even when there was no permanent stage, delivered from an improvised platform bad and indifferent versions of the well-known plays[95]. The result was that tragedy was the one popular form of literature in the Hellenistic period, and this meant practically that the people were feasted on Euripides. The ‘Megarian Bowls’ are priceless treasures from this period when the drama had permeated all classes of society. The unpretentious reliefs are replete with the spirit that one may discover at the same time in Italy, Asia Minor, Athens, and Alexandria. They are direct witnesses of the fact that Euripides was the people’s poet, and re-enforce the impression gained from the study of all other classes of monuments.

For my own part I prefer to think of these cups as answering the place of text illustrations and corresponding to our illustrated editions of poetical works. One cannot imagine the papyri texts of the ancient poets illumined with illustrations, but these ‘Megarian Bowls’ meet every requirement of this kind of art. In order to keep the reader from going astray in the interpretation the scenes are often accompanied by inscriptions that render any misunderstanding impossible. The several groups showing the successive stages of the play serve in fact every end that is demanded of illustrations. Whether the vases were used by schoolmasters in drilling their boys in classical poetry, or whether they were ornaments for the home, the poet was sure to appeal to his admirers in a new manner. He could be easily remembered by this means if artificial aid was at all necessary. They had, moreover, the great merit of being cheap; any number of copies could be made from the mould, and such cups are really in existence[96]. If three replicas of one and the same work have accidentally survived the centuries and can to-day be studied as text illustrations of Euripides, how extensive must have been the production and use of this sort of art in ancient times![97]