Euripides -- Criticism and interpretation; Mythology, Greek, in literature; Tragedy
The objections to the Chorus are plain to any infant. These dozen
homogeneous persons, old men or young women, eternally present and
almost never doing anything, intruded on action that often demands the
utmost privacy: their absurdity, on any plane of realism, is manifest.
We need waste no more words upon it. Verisimilitude is simply thrown to
the winds. That is, no doubt, a great sacrifice, and fine artists do not
as a rule incur a sacrifice without making sure of some compensating
gain. Let us try to find out what that gain was, or at least what the
great Greek artists were aiming at. And let us begin by forgetting the
modern stage altogether and thinking ourselves back to the very origins
of drama.
The word "chorus" means "dance" or "dancing-ground." There were such
dancing floors on Greek soil before ever the Greeks came there. They
have been found in prehistoric Crete and in the islands. We hear in
Homer of the "houses and dancing-grounds" of the Morning Star. The dance
was as old as mankind; only it was a kind of dance that we have almost
forgotten. The ancient dance was not, like our ballets, rooted in sexual
emotion. It was religious: it was a form of prayer. It consisted in the
use of the whole body, every limb and every muscle, to express somehow
that overflow of emotion for which a man has no words. And primitive man
had less command of words than we have. When the men were away on the
war-path, the women prayed for them with all their bodies. They danced
for the men's safe return. When the tribe's land was parching for lack
of rain the tribesmen danced for the rain to come. The dance did not
necessarily imply movement. It might consist in simply maintaining the
same rigid attitude, as when Moses held out his arms during the battle
with the Amalekites or Ahure in the Egyptian story waited kneeling and
fasting for Nefrekepta's return.
Now if we consider what kind of emotion will specially call for this
form of expression it is easy to see that it will be the sort that tends
quickly to get beyond words: religious emotions of all kinds, helpless
desire, ineffectual regret and all feelings about the past. When we
think of the kind of ritual from which tragedy emerged, the lament for a
dead god, we can see how well a dance was fitted, in primitive times, to
express the emotions that we call tragic.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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