The enduring fame of Aeschylus as the earliest of the ‘three great tragedians’ has made him in effect the first dramatist of the Western tradition, in chronological terms at least. At the same time it is worth noting that among the ancients he also enjoyed a reputation as a master of the satyr play, as Pausanias and Diogenes Laertius tell us. It is to this kind of drama, which comprised one-quarter of his output as tragedian, that I would (...) like to turn, with particular focus on his Theoroi or Isthmiastai, and its treatment of another visual medium, the plastic arts. Our fragments of this play begin with a figure presenting a chorus of satyrs with artfully wrought images made in their likenesses which bring them a startled delight. In the second discernible scene of the fragment the chorus receivesνεοχμᾰ… θρματα , usually understood as athletic equipment, which the satyrs find rather more unsettling. The following piece is primarily concerned with the first scene in which the coryphaeus urges his companions to dedicate the depictions as votives on Poseidon's temple, relishing the prospect of the comical, terrifying effect these images would have on his own mother and travellers, the latter probably on their way to the Isthmian games. At least this much is clear from the papyrus . This part of the fragment has attracted a good deal of attention for the evident ‘realism’ of the images that excites the satyrs so much in the first place. (shrink)

The paper borrows from recent work by classicists on satyr play and demonstrates significant parallels between Plato’s Republic and the structure, theme and stereotypical contents that characterize this newly studied genre of ancient Greek drama. Like satyr play, the Republic includes repeated passages where metatheatricality can reverse the meaning. The frequent occurrence of all the stereotypical elements of satyr play in Plato’s Republic also suggests to readers that they should be responding to Socrates’ narration as they (...) would to a satyr play, again reversing meaning by communicating a set of literary expectations to Plato’s readers over the heads of Socrates’ interlocutors. As is frequently the case with satyr play, the political purpose of the drama is the critique of tyrannical government. The need for a systematically ironic interpretation of the dialogue is raised. (shrink)

Active in Alexandria during the second half of the third century, Dioscorides is the author of some forty epigrams preserved in theAnthologia Palatina. Five of these epigrams are concerned with Greek playwrights: three dramatists of the archaic and classical periods, Thespis, Aeschylus and Sophocles, and two contemporary ones, Sositheus and Machon. Dioscorides conceived four epigrams as two pairs (Thespis and Aeschylus, Sophocles and Sositheus) clearly marked by verbal connections, and celebrates each playwright for his original contribution to the history of (...) Greek drama. Thespis boasts to have discovered tragedy; Aeschylus to have elevated it. The twin epigrams devoted to Sophocles and Sositheus present Sophocles as refining the satyrs and Sositheus as making them, once again, primitive. Finally, Machon is singled out for his comedies as ‘worthy remnants of ancient art (τέχνης … ἀρχαίης)’. Dioscorides’ miniature history of Greek drama, which is interesting both for its debts to the ancient tradition surrounding classical playwrights and for the light it sheds on contemporary drama, clearly smacks of archaizing sympathies. They drive Dioscorides’ selection of authors and his treatment of contemporary dramatists: both Sositheus and Machon are praised for consciously looking back to the masters of the past. My focus is on Sositheus and his ‘new’ satyr-play. After discussing the relationship that Dioscorides establishes between Sophocles’ and Sositheus’ satyrs, and reviewing scholarly interpretations of Sositheus’ innovations, I will argue that Dioscorides speaks the language of New Music. His epigram celebrates Sositheus as rejecting New Music and its trends, and as composing satyr plays that were musically old fashioned and therefore reactionary. (shrink)

This paper draws attention to the Symposium's concern with epideictic rhetoric. It argues that in the Symposium, as in the Gorgias and the Phaedrus, a contrast is drawn between true and false rhetoric. The paper also discusses the dialogue's relationship to drama. Whereas both epideictic rhetoric and drama were directed to a mass audience, the speeches in the Symposium are delivered to a small, select group. The discussion focuses on the style of the speeches delivered by Aristophanes, Agathon, (...) Socrates and Alcibiades. Aristophanes speaks in the simple style of comedy, fable and folktale, also used by Protagoras in Plato's Protagoras. Agathon speaks in the high-flown style of Gorgias. Socrates' speech is a miniature Platonic dialogue, and both Alcibiades' speech and Socrates' speech may be compared to satyr play. The paper concludes with a suggestion that the claim at 223D, that the same person should be able to write both comedy and tragedy, refers to style as well as subject-matter. (shrink)

In this book, classicist Joshua Billings considers classical Greek drama as intellectual history. Developing an innovative approach to dramatic form as a mode of philosophical thought, Billings recasts early Greek intellectual history as a conversation across types of discourses and demonstrates the significance of dramatic reflections on widely-shared conceptual questions. He integrates evidence from tragedy, comedy, and satyr play into the development of early Greek philosophy in order to place poetry at the center of Greek thought. He thus (...) offers a substantially new history and map of classical intellectual culture: drama, on his view, appears as our best source for understanding the thought of the fifth century, while at the same time revealing significant tensions and anxieties in the development of philosophy. At the heart of the book is a novel approach to the philosophical qualities of drama. Though dramatists and their works have been considered philosophical in a variety of ways going back to antiquity, scholarly approaches have consistently taken "literature" and "philosophy" as defined categories, tracing more or less direct connections between one and the other. On the contrary, Billings argues that neither "literature" nor "philosophy" were available as stable categories in the fifth century. Rather he describes the way that drama treats issues that would come to be called philosophical, without relying on assumptions concerning what constitutes philosophical method or literary form. Drama develops a kind of method that allows it to pose and pursue conceptual questions in dramatic form which Billings describes as the "philosophical poetics" of drama. (shrink)

The article argues that the famous story about the strike, exile and return of the Romanaulosplayers, which is recorded in the sixth book of Ovid'sFastiand referred to by other Latin and Greek sources, is based on a narrative model that already existed in Greece in the Archaic period. The study draws parallels between the tale of the pipers and the myth of the return of Hephaestus to Olympus, suggesting that, apart from similar plots, the two stories share many motifs, such (...) as references to themes derived from comedy and satyr drama. Searching for a possible channel of transmission of the story from Archaic Greece to Augustan Rome, the study explores the presence of satyric motifs in Etruscan vase-painting and Roman processional rites. It is furthermore emphasized that many of these motifs, which also appeared in lost satyr-plays, are echoed in Augustan poetry. (shrink)

In Sophocles' Ichneutai Silenos reproaches the Satyrs for their cowardice. Among other things that he says to them, he contrasts their current attitude to his own bravery in youth; in lines 154-155 he speaks of many monuments of bravery, which he has left in the homes of the nymphs. After illustrating the syntax of these lines and offering a new translation, the author goes on to investigate the possible reference of these "monuments of bravery" and hence of the (alleged) exploits (...) of Silenos. (shrink)

Like Aristophanes’ Frogs, Plato’s Symposium stages a contest between literary genres. The quarrel between Socrates and Aristophanes constitutes the primary axis of this contest, and the speech of Alcibiades echoes and extends that of Aristophanes. Alcibiades’ comparison of Socrates with a satyr, however, contains the key to understanding Socrates’ implication, at the very end of the dialogue, that philosophy alone understands the inner connectedness, and hence the proper nature, of both tragedy and comedy. I argue that Plato reflects in (...) the character of Socrates the primordial wisdom embodied in satyric drama. I conclude with a brief consideration of Nietzsche’s challenge to Plato’s Dionysian wisdom. (shrink)

Like Aristophanes’ Frogs, Plato’s Symposium stages a contest between literary genres. The quarrel between Socrates and Aristophanes constitutes the primary axis of this contest, and the speech of Alcibiades echoes and extends that of Aristophanes. Alcibiades’ comparison of Socrates with a satyr, however, contains the key to understanding Socrates’ implication, at the very end of the dialogue, that philosophy alone understands the inner connectedness, and hence the proper nature, of both tragedy and comedy. I argue that Plato reflects in (...) the character of Socrates the primordial wisdom embodied in satyric drama. I conclude with a brief consideration of Nietzsche’s challenge to Plato’s Dionysian wisdom. (shrink)

More Than a quarter of a century has elapsed since the publication of the Oxyrhynchus papyrus which Lobel identified as a fragment of Sophocles’ Inachus, and though it has revolutionised our knowledge of the play, it has proved an excellent example of the papyrological commonplace that each new discovery creates more problems than it solves. What could with reasonable confidence be inferred about the Inachus from the comparatively numerous ancient quotations and allusions is well summarised in Pearson's introduction: Inachus, Hermes, (...) Argus, and Iris took part in the action, but beyond the fact that the play told of Io's transformation and of blessings bestowed on Argos as a result of Zeus' visitation the development of the plot could only be conjectured. A majority of those who have discussed the play have shared Hemsterhuys' view that it was satyric, and the publication in 1933 of a Tebtunis papyrus preserving part of a dramatic composition dealing with Zeus’ love for Io and strongly suggesting a satyr-play was welcomed by many as confirmation of this conjecture. But the ascription of the Tebtunis fragment to Sophocles is far from certain, and its testimony will not allay the doubts of those who are troubled by the lack of direct evidence for satyrs in the Inachus and by the feeling that the importance of the moral and theological issues raised makes its theme unusually serious for satyric drama. (shrink)

In Plato’s Symposium, the mysterious Apollodorus recounts to an unnamed comrade, and to us, Aristodemus’ story of just what happened at Agathon’s drinking party. Since Apollodorus did not attend the party, however, it is unclear what relevance he could have to our understanding of Socrates’ speech, or to the Alcibiadean “satyr and silenic drama” (222d) that follows. The strangeness of Apollodorus is accentuated by his recession into the background after only two Stephanus pages. What difference—if any—does Apollodorus make (...) to the Symposium? Does his inclusion call the dramatic and philosophical unity of the work into question? I argue that despite initial appearances, Plato has important philosophical reasons for including Apollodorus as a character. Far from being an odd appendage to an otherwise complete narrative, the figure of Apollodorus is useful for our understanding of Socrates’s conception of eros later in the work. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:TragedyA Lesson in SurvivalChristopher Perricone (bio)Tragedy and Its Historical Context"Tragedy" in the strict sense of the word refers to an ancient Greek literary genre, a form of drama for the most part performed publicly in the theater. As is well known, the word "tragedy" literally means "goat song." The belief among scholars is that early singers of tragedy wore goatskin costumes in imitation of satyrs. Also, as is (...) well known, Aristotle defines "tragedy" in the strict sense of the word as "the imitation of an action that is serious and also having magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable accessories, each kind brought in separately in the parts of the work; in a dramatic, not in a narrative form; with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions."1 Of course, when one thinks of tragedy in the strict sense the names that come to mind are Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. It is arguable that these men not only set the stage for and developed the idea of tragedy in the strict sense, but they also laid the foundations of tragedy for centuries to come.After the Greeks, not surprisingly, tragedy evolves. The strict sense of the term as a point of reference, origin, or nucleus, remains—that is, after the Greeks, tragedy still retains that sense of "an imitation of an action that is serious." However, when one considers what later goes by the name of tragedy, one is hard-pressed, without resorting to Procrustean measures, to fit with any precision those later works of tragedy into the original Greek mold. After the Greeks, Seneca composes tragedies, as do Marlowe, Shakespeare, Corneille, Racine, Goethe, Schiller, Ibsen, Chekov, Lorca, Anouilh, Miller, et al. Even the sense of "serious" is not exactly the same: is the seriousness of Hedda Gabler's or Willie Loman's fate at all comparable to the fates of [End Page 70] Medea or Oedipus? The former cases surely seem serious in some domestic sense, whereas the latter clearly are intended to imply seriousness on a much grander and perhaps cosmic scale.The reason I mention all this is that "tragedy," both in what I call the strict and nuclear ancient Greek sense of the term (which does not imply that tragedy is clearly and distinctly defined, even in ancient Greece) and in the looser, derived sense of the word, has a long and compelling history. Tragedy is a form of drama to which we continually return. It is a genre that seems intrinsic not only to our very idea of theater but also to the very nature of art itself. Although one may debate the plausibility of writing tragedies in a disillusioned and nonheroic age, nevertheless one can hardly imagine the theater existing without tragedy. One way or another, it seems tragedies, whether in the strict or loose sense, will always be performed, and not merely out of nostalgia. Indeed, given the compelling nature of tragedy, it seems no accident that among the giants of literature, the tragedians are significantly represented. The compelling nature of tragedy is nicely expressed by the literary critic F. L. Lucas, and his statements should be considered a complement to Aristotle:Tragedy, then, is a representation of human unhappiness, which pleases us notwithstanding, by the truth with which it is seen and the fineness with which it is communicated—"l'amertume poignante et fortifiante de tout ce qui est vrai." ["The invigorating and poignant bitterness of whatever is true"; my translation.] The world of everyday seems often a purposeless chaos, a mangy tiger without even the fearful symmetry of Blake's vision; but the world of tragedy we can face, for we feel mind behind it and the symmetry is there. Tragedy, in fine, is man's answer to this universe that crushes him so pitilessly. Destiny scowls upon him; his answer is to sit down and paint her where she stands.2It is not only true that tragedy as practice and performance has a long and rich history; the study of tragedy has an equally long and rich history. The idea of tragedy has attracted, tantalized, frustrated, and exercised... (shrink)

The canonical statue known as the Barberini Faun is roundly viewed as a mysterious anomaly. The challenge to interpret it is intensified not only by uncertainties about its date and origin but also by the persistent idea that it represents a generic satyr. This paper tackles this assumption and identifies the statue with the satyr that King Midas captured in the well-known myth. Iconographic analysis of the statue's pose supports this view. In particular, the arm bent above the (...) head, the twist of the torso, and the splay of the legs are paralleled in many well-understood figures and furnish keys to interpreting the Barberini Faun as an extraordinary sleeping beast, intoxicated and fit for capture. The paper then explores the links between kings and satyrs in the Hellenistic age and finds grounds for understanding the statue within the context of royal patronage before the mid-second century BC. (shrink)

De nombreuses répliques du satyre à l'outre conservé au musée du Caire étaient connues jusqu'à présent, provenant d'Alexandrie, de Syracuse, de Kertch et de Phanagoria. Il convient de leur joindre un nouvel exemplaire fragmentaire du musée du Louvre provenant d'Amisos. Il est probable que nous ayons affaire dans chaque cas à une fabrication locale. Un passage des Dionysiaca de Nonnos de Panopolis (XXIII, 148) permet sans doute de voir dans cet objet un satyre voguant sur son outre : en effet (...) les fantassins de Dionysos sont décrits traversant l'Hydaspe, confluent de l'Indus, sur des outres gonflées d'air, mode de navigation connu par ailleurs. On peut supposer que le prototype était un satyre en bronze (peut-être un ornement de fontaine), créé sous l'influence pergaménienne, à la fin du IIIe s. ou au début du IIe s. av. J.-C. à Alexandrie, où l'expédition d'Alexandre aux Indes avait été transposée en une épopée de Dionysos. Suffisamment célèbre, il a pu donner lieu à des répliques en terre cuite, à la fois à Alexandrie, et dans divers centres liés à cette cité. (shrink)

At Statesman (Plt.) 291a–c and 303c–d, Plato compares the so-called statesmen of all existing constitutions to a motley crew of lions, centaurs, satyrs, and other beasts, and the entire section of the Statesman devoted to law and constitutions (291c–303c) to a satyr-play of sorts. This paper argues that these thought-provoking images are best understood as literary devices which, in addition to other dramatic elements in the Theaetetus and Sophist, help to bolster the unity of the Theaetetus-Sophist-Statesman trilogy and its (...) apologetic agenda concerning Socrates. (shrink)