Aeschylus (Part 4)

(Pictured: Aeschylus.) We here present the brief Part 4 of the Introduction written by P. E. More for his translation of the Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus, published in 1899. We have returned to our category Poetry and the Classical Tradition after having completed our presentation of More’s essay on one of the most subjective and unclassical of authors, James Joyce. Paul Elmer More (1864-1937) was an American journalist, critic, essayist, and Christian apologist. He collaborated with Irving Babbitt from before 1900 in the project later called the New Humanism. His conservative literary criticism was published in the eleven-volume Shelburne Essays (1904-1921) and the three-volume New Shelburne Essays (1928). He also published several books on Plato and Greek philosophy, including the Greek Tradition. Late in his life he undertook Christian apologetics, notably in The Christ of the Testament. On Being Human was published in 1936.

The Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus
By Paul Elmer More

Introduction

Production of the Play [continued]

It is probable, then, that Prometheus is represented by an artificial figure of superhuman size. It is more than likely too that at this time there was no stage proper elevated above the orchestra. Actors and chorus appear on the same level, though in general the actors kept to that part of the orchestra furthest from the audience and nearest to the standing scene. In this play some sort of wooden scaffolding must have been erected as a background, and to this the rebellious god is chained. It will be noticed that Hephaestus leaves the stage (I use the word loosely) before Force and Power. During the monologue of Power he has time to slip behind the scene, and so when Prometheus is left alone speaks for this character from his cover.

At the parados, or choral entrance, the twelve daughters of Oceanus are drawn in on a winged car, probably made to roll in on the upper part of the scaffolding in such a way as to conceal the wheels and lower structure of the machine. Their song and the lyric parts throughout I have turned into semi-poetic language to mark them off to the eye at least from the regular dialogue, which in the original is in a metre akin to our blank verse and is here translated into prose. The action of the drama, it will be seen, is divided by these lyric intermezzos into a series of episodes not altogether different from our division of a play into acts. After a time, at the request of Prometheus the chorus wind down from their elevated position and take their regular place in the orchestra. Here they remain during the rest of the play, standing during most of the dialogue in double file before Prometheus; and during the lyric parts dancing back and forth in complicated figures. Their dancing, however, was not like ours, but rather a gesticulation of the whole body, waxing and waning in intensity with the sentiments expressed.

Immediately after the descent of the chorus, Oceanus enters on his winged horse, he too probably appearing above on the scaffolding. His part, which is spoken by the actor who had before appeared as Power, has little to do with the main theme except to bring out the stubborn and half mocking character of Prometheus, and he soon leaves the stage.

Then follows the first stasimon, or standing-song, of the chorus, who are now in position in the orchestra. After a short dialogue between Prometheus and the chorus, forming the second episode, there is a second stasimon, followed by the scene in which Io appears and which forms the main interest of the play. It was peculiarly appropriate to introduce this second sufferer under the tyranny of Zeus, because from her line was to come at last Heracles, the deliverer of Prometheus. Her story moreover completes the tale of wrong; and he who suffers from the hate of Zeus is thus brought into contact with one who suffers equally from the tyrant’s love.

After the third stasimon, where—and I say it with all reverence—Aeschylus has fallen into something like bathos from mingling realistic and idealistic motives, comes the exodus, or closing scene. Hermes is sent by Zeus to wrest the fatal secret from the sufferer’s lips, but is defied and sent back with stinging taunts. It is probable that the final storm and tumult were represented very crudely, or left entirely to the hearer’s imagination. During the last words of Prometheus the scaffolding was no doubt made to collapse, burying in its ruins the figure of the god, while the chorus of Oceanides flee to right and left. There was no curtain used, and it was always necessary to close the play in such a way that the stage should be naturally cleared; hence the name exodus given to the final scene.

A poet, as we have seen, gave three successive tragedies on the same day, and these were by Aeschylus generally so connected in theme as to form something like three acts of a single play. The Prometheus Bound was the first of such a trilogy. Immediately after it came the Prometheus Unbound (of which, however, only a few fragments have reached us) where Prometheus, again represented as impaled on the rocks with the vulture preying upon his liver, is surrounded by a chorus of sympathetic Titans. The theme is a reconciliation of the two gods. Prometheus has declared that unless released from bondage he will not divulge the destined marriage of Zeus which is to produce a son greater than his father. Zeus has vowed through his messenger Hermes that he will not release Prometheus unless some god shall appear as a voluntary successor to the suffering, and of his own free will shall go down to sunless Hades.” Both of these conditions are now fulfilled. Zeus consents to release Prometheus if he will divulge the dreaded secret, and Prometheus warns him against uniting with Thetis, who is accordingly given in marriage to the mortal Peleus. Heracles, a descendant of Io, slays the vulture with his arrow and delivers the Titan. Cheiron, who is suffering from an incurable wound, offers to die in place of Prometheus and go down to Hades. Prometheus is reconciled with Zeus, but wears ever afterwards a wreath of willow as a symbol of past error and repentance. To a modern, at least, this denouement seems somewhat flat and without moral meaning; its significance to the Greek would lie in the recognition by both rivals of their excessive wrath and stubbornness, and in their return to the happy mean of temperance.

Of the third play in the series we know little or nothing. Probably it was Prometheus the Fire-bringer, and represented the bringing of fire by Prometheus to his Athenian worshippers and the institution of torch races in honor of the god. It is not altogether easy to see how such a subject could he treated, although the introduction of fire as a symbol of culture and civilization would in itself form a fitting close to the trilogy.

The tragedian’s work ended with a satyr drama in which heroic and religious subjects were burlesqued, and this was followed by the boisterous humor of a comedy.

The closing ceremony of the dramatic contest was the awarding of the prizes. A public herald announced the decision of the judges, and the victorious poet and choregus were crowned by the Archon with wreaths of ivy in the presence of the spectators. In addition to this, each of the poets who were permitted to contest received a sum of money, varying in amount, no doubt, according to their rank in the final decision. It is pleasant to know that on this occasion Aeschylus received the crown of honor.

[To be continued.]