Another aspect of this Dionysiac connection can be seen in tragedy’s precursor, the dithyramb. Aristotle says that both tragedy and comedy ‘originated in improvisation’ within a specific Athenian context: ‘The one came from the prelude to the dithyramb and the other from the prelude to the phallic songs which still survive as institutions in many cities’. Although we now believe that tragedy did not evolve from the dithyramb, it is beneficial to note that such dithyrambs were hymns in honour of Dionysus, especially relevant in Athens. The following fragment of Archilochus exemplifies this strong link to Dionysus: ‘I know how to lead off the fair song of Lord Dionysus, the dithyramb, blitzed in my head with wine’. The fragment also connects Dionysus with the City Dionysia at which it was performed alongside tragedy in Athens. This strong Athenian connection allows us to see how Aristotle may well have believed tragedy to derive from the dithyramb, and it also shows the significance that dramatic release in the form of tragic poetry had to the people of Athens.
However, the old assumption that tragedy was fundamentally linked to Dionysus and therefore could not have operated without him may need to be challenged somewhat. Without doubt, the former statement is true, but we have to accept that ‘none of the ancient evidence ... attests a connection that goes beyond contingency between developed tragedy and Dionysus’. At least as early as the first half of the fifth century, the dithyramb had stopped being distinctively Dionysiac, since it took for its subject matter general myth — and it was performed, in Athens, not only at festivals of Dionysus, but also at those of Apollo, Athena, Prometheus and Hephaestus. Whilst its religious context deeply affected Greek tragedy as we know it, it is a very large step to suggest that such tragedy could not have emerged were it not for its Dionysiac background; we cannot make the unsubstantiated assumption that such dramatic festivals were experienced as ‘religious’ phenomena in any overarching sense.
There is no doubt, too, that tragedy provided significant value in terms of emphasising the social integration of citizens with each other. The City Dionysia is thought to have originally been connected to the harvest and selection of crops, however, it soon also performed, as we have seen, social and political functions. It could be said that the tragic plays are ‘straightforward quasi-fascist hymns to the state and to the solidarity of citizens’. Such a viewpoint may explain the ostensible lack of dissent that some critics have noticed in tragedy, e.g. that Antigone is universally regarded badly for going against her government. However, such a viewpoint is surely not tenable, to a great degree. Greek tragedy is often about portraying the Other and subversion is societally harmless ways: in fact, it could even be seen as a kind of pressure valve for what might be, if acted out in reality, socially harmful actions. There is, also, little evidence that ancient audience members always reacted to plays in similar ways, or even that they were expected to. On the other hand, Aeschylus’ Persians (the only extant Greek tragedy focusing on contemporary issues) shows that plays could contain military, political and ideological themes, and also that such plays could well be popular (the Persians won first prize at the City Dionysia festival of 472 BC.) Furthermore, tragedy can certainly be said to produce a ‘unifying effect of shared grief or lamentation’, what Aristotle referred to by the name of katharsis. On balance, whilst such issues and emotions were surely raised in the theatre, there is no evidence that tragedy had a specific ideological or controlling function.
The very issues relevant to Greek tragedy can be said to reflect the institutions Athenian context. For example, many plays are based fundamentally upon a conflict between oikos and polis, very Athenian concepts. A good example may well be that of Agammenon in Euripides’ Iphigeneia at Aulis: he chooses to favour his bond to his polis over that to his oikos when he decides to kill his daughter in order to allow his fellow Greeks to sail onwards to Troy. One can perhaps see the consequences of his choice in, for example, Aeschylus’ Oresteia, in which his wife Klytemnestra decides to further distance herself from the oikos he has betrayed, first by finding another man to take his place and ultimately by murdering him on his return from the Trojan War. Indeed, even in terms of the City Dionysia itself this link to the polis is relevant. For example, a very important part of the festival was the parade of the sons of Athenian citizens who had died in battle. Having reared them, the polis honours their arrival at manhood, an issue that is often explored just as poignantly in works of tragedy themselves.
To look at a specific play, the Eumenides by Aeschylus contains scenes and themes that would most likely have played on the patriotism and pride of the Athenian citizens in the audience. For example, the very intervention of their patron god, Athena, would have roused emotion, but more important is that she resolves the conflict between Orestes and the Erinyes by forming a court on the Areopagos and renaming the Erinyes the Eumenides [‘kindly ones’]. Such aetiological explanations, it seems, would surely have conferred divine support in the eyes of the audience. Such patriotism and societal unity would perhaps have been useful when one considers the context in which the Oresteia was written (458 BC), i.e. during clashes with the Persians that would eventually lead to the Peloponnesian War. The final words of the play emphasise the resolution that Athena has brought about: ‘There shall be peace forever between these people of Pallas and their guests’ (1044–5).
Moreover, tragedy can also be said to have links to early Greek philosophy, the central hub of which was surely Athens. For example, in Euripides’ Medea the chorus praises Athens, whose patron goddess was of course wise Athena, as a polis full of such intellectual characteristics as wisdom (829–34):
‘They feed on wisdom most glorious, treading always delicately through crystalline air where once, it is said, the Holy Nine, Pieria’s Muses, c reated golden-haired harmony.”
The sophists of Athens saw the development of human civilisation as a gradual evolution from primitive beginnings, which was in direct contrast to the Hesiodic myth of human decline from a distant Golden Age. Although the raw material of tragedy was myth, such progressive views were expressed in the plays. For example, the distinctiveness of the Athenian democratic system is often expressed by tragic choruses. However, issues such as manipulation of the government of such a polis by clever speakers; for example, the scheming of wily Odysseus in Sophocles’ Philoctetes (i.e. 98–99). The intellectual environment of Athens, renowned throughout the Greek world, can ultimately be said to be strongly reflected in Greek tragedy.
To conclude, it can be strongly argued that Greek tragedy is very much a product of its particular Athenian context. The competition at the City Dionysia fostered new talent and engaged the citizenry of Athens. Linked closely to that concept is the religious context in which the plays were performed that can be said to have aided social solidarity and performance. However, plays did not enforce a dominant ideology. In fact, tragedy may well have allowed citizens to be subversive in ways that they otherwise would not have been able. The strong Dionysiac element held the festivals together, however, we cannot suggest that such an element was anything other than contingent. Furthermore, there was a strong political aspect to the festival and its performances: it was one of the few times when so many Athenian citizens would have been in one place. The content of plays and reworkings of myths also owe a lot to their Athenian background: the mythological heritage of Athens was in many cases vital to the conclusion of tragic plots. Moreover, even the intellectual and philosophical environment of Athens can be seen reflected in tragic works. Ultimately, Greek tragedy would be little the Athenian background in which the performances took place and against which the institution defined itself. With the caveats I have discussed in this essay, tragedy can be seen as the ultimate ‘manifestation of the Dionysiac spirit’.
Bibliography
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Lada-Richards, I. (1999). Initiating Dionysus. Oxford.
Seaford, R. (2000). ‘The Social Function of Attic Tragedy: A Response to Jasper Griffin’, Classical Quarterly 50: 31–61.
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