Dionysus in The Bacchae

American Philological Association
Dionysus in the Bacchae

Author(s): George Maximilian Antony Grube
Source: Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, Vol. 66
(1935), pp. 37-54
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press
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Vol. lxvi] Dionysus in the Bacchae 37
IV.-Dionysus in the Bacchae
GEORGE MAXIMILIAN ANTONY GRUBE
TRINITY COLLEGE, UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
Dionysus in the prologue and throughout the first part of the play, is
a benevolent god, the bringer of a joyful worship. He remains so even
after the palace miracle (which requires no more effects than could easily
be staged), and his more terrible aspect is no more than hinted at. It is
only after every effort to conciliate Pentheus has failed that he becomes the
terrible and ruthless fiend of the later part. Throughout, the development
in the god's character is echoed by the chorus, and it is this development
that provides the key to the right understanding of the tragedy: the
Dionysiac in man becoming evil and fiendish when denied and suppressed.
This paper will not be concerned with Euripides the Ration-

alist, or the Idealist, or whatever else he may have been, but
solely and exclusively with Euripides the dramatist. My sub-
ject is the dramatic structure and development of the Bacchae,
and my thesis that a right understanding of it depends upon
a proper appreciation of the character of Dionysus as the chief
figure in the play. The supposed personal beliefs of the poet
are, in the first instance at least, irrelevant to such an inquiry,
and they should only be brought into the discussion if the
drama contains contradictions and irrelevancies which cannot
be accounted for without them. I hope to prove that this is
not the case.
The prologue is spoken by the god Dionysus and, as always
in Euripides' best works, is highly relevant to the play as a
whole. In the first three simple lines, Dionysus asserts clearly
the fact of his divine birth, and then emphasises the impor-
tance of it by dwelling upon it for seven lines more by means
of a description of the tomb of Semele, whereon the divine
flame still burns.' This emphasis is deliberate and effective,
1 It is a common piece of Euripidean, as indeed of all dramatic, technique
to emphasise a particular fact or emotional motive by thus dwelling upon it,
often in general terms, for a number of lines varying with its importance, and
thus to impress it upon the minds of the audience. This helps to account for
a great many passages commonly dismissed as irrelevant philosophising on the
part o1 the poet.
38 George Maximilian Antony Grube [1935
for the divine birth is the symbol of the whole drama. He

then tells us very briefly of his triumphant progress through
Asia (13-19). He has now come to Greece, first to his native
city of Thebes, to fill it with Bacchic gladness (a'vcoXXvia).
His mother's sisters, who refused to accept him, he has driven
to madness and revelry upon the slopes of Cithaeron, and
upon this also he dwells at some length (26-38). As for the
young king Pentheus: (43-54) 2
"He opposes me in godless fight (OeoAaXE-), banishes me from

his libations, and ignores me in his prayers. Therefore I shall
show myself born a god, to him and all the Thebans. After
putting these things right (6 O'E,AEvos a mild expression), I
shall turn elsewhere, making myself manifest. But if the state
of Thebes should seek in anger and by force of arms to drive
the Bacchants from the hills, I shall join the Maenads and
lead them in battle. For this reason I have taken on huiman
form and come here in the shape of a man." 3
It is important to grasp the exact tone of this passage, which

is also that of the whole prologue. It is not that of an angry
god already determined on bloody revenge. There are no
violent threats. He does indeed intend that his divinity shall
be recognised at all costs, but he has not determined that the
cost must be high. If the king yields, all will presumably be
well. But if (50) Pentheus should lead his army out against
the Maenads, the god himself will lead his devotees in battle.
Of the terrible side of Dionysus we have thus only a hint.
After which, turning to the Chorus, who must be supposed to
2 Where, as here, the exact tone of passages is important, it is unfortunately
impossible to use Gilbert Murray's translation, which definitely romanticises
at times and is always less matter of fact than the Greek. I am therefore com-
pelled to translate as literally as possible, and can only beg indulgence for the
inevitable inadequacy.
3 The words WIv oiveKa in 53 do not refer to the words immediately prece
but repeat the same expression in 47. The god has put on human form, not
to lead the unarmed women against Pentheus-for this indeed he would need
his divine attributes-but in order to bring his worship to Thebes. His insist-
ence on this (4,53f) is intentional. For the moment he puts aside his divine
power. Gods do not persuade, they command, as Dionysus will have to do
when his more goodnatured offers are rejected.
enter here since to them he is only a Lydian priest, he tells

them to strike up a song before the palace of Pentheus and
goes off to the hills.4
In their first song, which is also their longest, the Chorus
sing of the happiness of the votary initiated into the rites of
Bacchus and Cybele, of the mysterious double birth of the god;
they appeal to the Thebans to accept the new worship, to
deck themselves with wreaths and fawnskins and to follow
their women to the hills and return to the joy and ecstasy of
the followers of Dionysus. This emphasis on joy and beauty
has often been noted. The whole picture is impressed on our
minds not only by the magnificence of the poetry but also by
the length of the ode. It is in tune with the temper of the
god himself in the prologue and would have been quite out of
place if the more terrible aspects of his power had there been
displayed. What the Thebans are here asked to accept is a
glad and carefree cult, 'a sweet labour,' 'a burden of delight,'
a ritual of the song and the dance (7rovov 71vV, Kaguarov r' EVKagarov,
66f; ya wraoa xopEtEL, 114 etc.). It is only when this is scorn-
fully rejected that something very different will have to be
endured.
Teiresias now enters and calls Cadmus out of the palace to
join him, as they have previously arranged, in the worship of
Bacchus. Old as they are, they are in full Bacchic regalia,
a ridiculous pair, and meant to be ridiculous.5 Cadmus
frankly recognises the god for the honor of the family. It
may be strictly true that the god has not exempted the old
from his worship (206), yet we can only conclude from their
silly senile antics that this conversion to Dionysiac ecstasy is,
4 The theory ot Verrall and Norwood, that the god of the prologue and the
priest of the rest of the play are two different persons, is well known. (See
Norwood, The Riddle of the Bacchae, Manchester Univ. Press 1908, and Verrall,
The Bacchants of Euripides, Camb. Univ. Press 1910.) Apart from other diffi-
culties, there is no opportunity for the substitution, for surely the Chorus are
coming on the stage when the god addresses them at 55.
5 See Norwood, The Riddle of the Bacchae (Manchester Univ. Press, 1908),
p. 22.
at their age, highly unseemly.6 It should perhaps be added

that the appearance on the stage of a calculating old man and
an adaptable prophet does not necessarily imply an attack on
the part of the poet upon the existence or the nature of the
god they worship, but at most upon their type of worship.
As the two old men are about to depart, Pentheus, the arch-
enemy of the new religion as Dionysus himself has told us,
comes on the stage. His very first words express an attitude
towards the Bacchic religion from which he will not move
(215 ff.):
"I have come back from abroad, and I hear that some new evils have
come upon the state: our women have left their homes, allegedly for Bacchic
worship. They sport on the wooded hills and honour in the dance this
new god Dionysus, whoever he may be. But full goblets stand among
the revelling bands and one after another slinks away to service-in a man's
bed. The pretext is that they are Maenads offering sacrifice, but they put
Aphrodite before Bacchus."
The accusations of bibulous and sexual excesses are something

quite new; there was not a word about them in the choral ode,
and they are moreover definitely disproved later by the herds-
man's speech. It is not so much that Pentheus has been
misinformed (he admittedly depends on hearsay) as that there
is something in his mind which prevents him from examining
the evidence on its merits, even where his own mother is con-
cerned. Like Hippolytus, Pentheus is a very pure young man,
but of a far more unpleasant type in that he has not the wor-
ship of another goddess to redeem him. He is a puritan with
a prurient mind, desperately afraid of the power of emotions
let loose. True to type, he will not be able to drink without
being disgustingly drunk.
6 The two greybeards are only playing safe by moving with the times. That
is the meaning of (200-203): "We do not match our cleverness against the gods
(oi66ci uo0LPAeoueOa roLoL baL/ooa), we hold on to the tradition of our fathers,
old as time, whicn no argument shall destroy. . . . What they have inherited
is not, of course, the acceptance of Dionysiac worship, since that has only just
been introduced, but a general willingness to accept new gods and old without
reasoning dangerously. Note that Teiresias is shortly to embark upon a piece
of rationalisation which for sophistry (aoq5c--OaL) would be hard to match.
Pentheus tells us that he has already imprisoned some of

the women, and that he will soon deal with the Lydian stranger
" with his fragrant blond tresses and the vinous graces of
Aphrodite in his eyes" (note the emphasis on Aphrodite); and
he unequivocally denies the divine birth of Dionysus. At this
point he perceives the two old men and is ashamed of the
ridiculous sight (roXviv yEXcov, 250). He accuses Teiresias of
venality, and brutally tells him that if it were not for his old
age, he would be confined with the women in prison.
The answer of the old prophet is a brilliant piece of charac-
terisation. The diction is frigid, the theology specious; he
admits only such symbolism and allegory as will explain un-
necessary stories like that of the double birth I but will not
cast any doubts upon the existence of Dionysus, who, to him,
is the god of the grape as Demeter is the goddess of solid food.
He celebrates the god's powers, the inspiration that follows
from 'absorbing him into the body,' and foretells his glorious
future in Greece. As for chastity and promiscuousness, Di-
onysus only shows up the true nature of a woman.
There must have been many seers and prophets at Athens,
theological sophists perhaps not unlike Euthyphro, who clung
to the orthodox beliefs in the gods and who were yet intelligent
enough to know that they must make some concessions to
rationalism. So they explained away such very crude stories
as the birth of Dionysus from the thigh of Zeus, leaving the
fundamental absurdity of the whole story standing. Nor is
the, to us, rather too complete identification of Dionysus with
wine here out of place (284). The drinking of the god's body
was always part of the Dionysiac religion, as it has been of
others. The conception may be crude and illogical and may
seem incompatible with the worship of Dionysus as a personal
god, but it is not theologically fatal to a prophet of Teiresias'
dialectical skill.
7 He explains it as arising from a confusion between the word ,urjpos, the

thigh (of Zeus) and O,A77pos, the phantom hostage which Zeus gave to Hera-
as if one tale were less absurd than the other (290-297).
Cadmus then in turn appeals to the young king to recognise

Dionysus on the not too honourable ground that the god is
a member of the family, who will thus derive honour from
him. He then reminds Pentheus of the fate of Actaeon, torn
to pieces by his hounds for disrespect to Artemis. This is the
first hint of Pentheus' doom, which will be more horrible still.
The young man is very properly disgusted with both his
elders. He sends some guards to destroy the place where
Teiresias practises augury (a hubristic act), and others to seek
out the Lydian stranger "who brings a new disease on women
and pollutes the marriage bed "-still harping on the theme of
sex. Teiresias turns away, duly commenting on the ill-omened
name of Pentheus "not that I speak as a prophet, but only
judging from the state of things." The denial of any pro-
phetic knowledge of Pentheus' fate should not be missed, for
we must believe that that fate is not yet decided.
The first stanza of the next chorus calls on the goddess
Sanctity to witness Pentheus' insolence to Bacchus, whom they
again celebrate as the god of joy and laughter who banishes
care. The second stanza expresses their distaste of excessive
cleverness, and is a natural comment upon the previous scene,
where there has been much play with uo4la and similar words
(200, 203, 266, 267f, 312, 332) as applied to Pentheus and all
that he stands for. The Chorus now echo this disapproval of
their enemy.8 In the next two stanzas they celebrate Dionysus
once more, in words of most exquisite poetry, as a lover of
peace, a giver of wine to all alike. But at the end of the ode
there is a hint of his other aspect, when they speak of his
hatred for those "who care for none of these things: to live
joyfully in the day and lovely night, and to keep away in their
wisdom from those who are over-clever." 9 They end with a
8 See especially 397-402: "Life is short. And to seek greatness in it is to
miss what is at hand. This, methinks, is the way of madmen and fools." Their
praise of the quiet life is a direct reaction from the battle of wits and temper
that they have just witnessed. To them Pentheus is mad.
9 Note that in 403-405 the Chorus bring out a connection between Dionysus
and Aphrodite, but how different from the coarse accusations of Pentheus.
return to the theme of wisdom and say that for them the
beliefs of common people are enough.
Dionysus is now led in as a captive, and the guard who tells
Pentheus the manner of his capture insists upon the amused
unconcern with which the stranger allowed it to take place:
"Our prey was gentle; he did not raise his foot in flight but
surrendered his hands willingly. He did not pale or change
his wine-red colour, but laughed, told me to bind him and lead
him away. And he stood still to make my task an easy one"
(436-440). He further announces that the jailed Bacchants
have miraculously escaped and, much impressed by all this,
hints that Pentheus may be acting too hastily. This first
meeting of the two enemies is composed in a minor key. The
god is calm, restrained, almost gentle. All the excitement is
on the part of the king, who considers his captive with con-
temptuous curiosity and remarks on the prettiness of his
appearance: "attractive to women, which was his purpose in
coming to Thebes, a hunter of Aphrodite." He then ques-
tions the stranger, as he takes him to be, in some detail about
his country and the ritual of the religion he brings. For a
few lines Pentheus is quieter and seems to be hesitating in his
hostility. The god answers all his questions courteously,
though he naturally refuses to disclose ritual secrets. But
when the king hears that the rites take place " mostly at night "
(486), this reference to the night wakes his obsession of sexual
immorality, and he listens no more (489): "You must be
punished for your cleverness in evil."
He gives orders that the stranger's hair shall be cut, his ap-
parel taken away, and he himself imprisoned. Meanwhile with
quiet confidence Dionysus foretells his deliverance, declares
that the god himself is present and continues to speak, as he
says himself, with sane moderation,'0 while the king's anger
rises beyond all reason. He orders the Lydian to be shut up
10 cav /uE / e tEZv o-wqpovwv ov oi4pooLv (504). The word o`&cpwv means
as well as moderate, and the contrast is with the king's wild and almost insane
anger.
in the stables and threatens to fight the women on the hills

if they do not return. We know that if he does this he is
doomed, for the god has said in the prologue that he will
defend his own. It is true that before going in as a prisoner
Dionysus threatens punishment from the god, but his language
is still controlled, and he speaks more in sorrow than in anger.
This must be so, for his anger, when it comes at last, will be
invincible and unrelenting.
The choral ode that follows begins by repeating the appeal
to Thebes made in their first song, but the tone is more urgent
and less hopeful. They no longer say: "Thebes, accept this
joyful worship," but rather "Thebes, why do you deny us,
why avoid us? You will have to care for Bromios in the end."
It is here, incidentally, that they express again their belief in
the story of Dionysus' second birth. They are naturally led
to sing in the next stanza of the w rath of Pentheus who is
now to them as a monster fighting against the god; and he has
threatened them too with imprisonment. They then call on
the god to witness this outrage and to put down the king's
insolence, and conclude with an appeal to him to come in
person.
The appeal is, with great dramatic effect, immediately fol-
lowed by a shout raised within by the voice of the god, which
the Chorus here recognise as such (576-581):
Dion. lo! Hear me, hear my voice, ye Bacchants, Bacchants.
Chor. What is this shout, this shout of Evius that calls me?
Dion. Again I speak, ye Bacchants, I. son of Semele, son of Zeus.
The next few lines are of the first importance, and must be
quoted in full (582-603):
Chor. Ah. Ah-Master, Master.-Come to our revel band. -Bromios,
Bromios.
-The ground.-Oh, holy Earthquake.-Ah. Ah.
-Soon the palace of Pentheus will shake in its fall.
-Dionysus is within the palace.
-Adore you him.-Oh, we do.
-Did you see the stone entablature part asunder?
-Bromios is raising his cry within.
-Take the flaming thunderbolt.-Burn, burn the house of Pentheus.
-Ah. Ah. Do you see the flame? Does it not glow around the
tomb of Semele, where once the thunderer left the lightning flame
of Zeus? Hurl your trembling bodies to the ground, ye Maenads.
For the god will appear, destroying the palace.
They then prostrate themselves. This is the famous 'palace-

miracle.' At first reading we may get the impression that the
palace lies in ruins. It is upon this impression that both
Norwood and Verrall base their elaborate, and to me fantastic,
interpretation of the play, for, as they point out, people go
in and out of the palace in the rest of the play without appar-
ently noticing that it is a heap of ashes.
A careful reading of the lines, however, will show that noth-
ing of the kind is supposed to have happened. Let us note
first that there is no manuscript authority for attributing any
of these lines to the god." They are clearly broken lines
spoken by various members of the chorus, so that we cannot
claim the god's authority for any of their statements. What
in fact does happen? There is first a shaking of the earth,
an earth-tremor, which both on the stage and in life is always
called an earthquake by those who feel it. A sudden lurching
movement by the Chorus would probably indicate this, but
in any case earth-tremors do not as a rule leave traces, though
we may if we wish suppose that the fa?ade of the palace also
shakes. The next voice predicts the fall of the palace. But
nothing is said to happen yet, and the future tense is impor-
tant. Two further lines of invocation to Dionysus within;
then a phrase that does imply something: "Did you see the
entablature of the columns parting asunder? "-a strange
phrase if the whole palace is seen crashing to the ground, and
one that does not imply any great destruction on the stage,
only a swaying movement of the fa?ade, perhaps the fall of
a stone or two at most. What does take place is a great
crashing within the stables at least. They call upon the god
to seize the thunderbolt and burn the palace, but all that
actually happens is that the living flame on Semele's tomb
suddenly flares up. That is all that is said to happen so far.
11 With the possible exception of o-E,lErTE vvv at 590. which does not affect the
argument.
The palace is still standing, but by a most skilful use of a

few simple stage devices and of hysteria in the Chorus, the
dramatist has achieved the impression of tremendous divine
power. When the Chorus have flung themselves upon the
ground, Dionysus, who to the Chorus is still the Lydian priest,
appears, still calm and with an ironical smile on his lips. For
all that has happened the god is more amused 12 than anything
else and there is not a word of revenge. To him all this is
child's play and his calm and contemptuous amusement makes
us realise his power far more than any anger could. He now
gives them an account of what happened within, and this
account too we must follow closely.
He first addresses the chorus: " It seems that you perceived
Bacchus shaking the palace." He seems amused that they
feared for his safety, and admits, with some irony, that he
saved himself. He then tells how (622-626) "at that moment
Bacchus came and shook (4vErLva4E) the house and lit the f
on his mother's tomb. Pentheus, when he saw this, thinking
(3oKJ^V) that his palace was on fire, rushed hither and thither,
ordering his servants to bring water, and every slave was busy
with the task, a vain labour (/ain7v irovc3v) "-vain because the
palace was not burning at all. What the king saw was the
reflected glow from the fire on the tomb. After further de-
ceiving Pentheus with a phantom, Bacchus finally "wrecked
the place to the ground. Everything fell together around
Pentheus who thus found my imprisonment a source of woe." 13
12 That the god is more amused than angry appears from several expressions
he uses: ,tO7uo-e', c's 4oEKE "you perceived. methinks" in 605; also the way he
refers to their fears for him at 610-611; the description of the false fire-alarm;
the delicious irony of bo6tav X4ycEy at 629; the "so I quietly walked out with
a thought for Pentheus" (637); the reference. at the end of the speech, to the
king's military boots. All this is very suitable for a god who has just been
making light of a mortal's opposition without even ruffling his temper.
13 avvreOpaivwnat S' &arav. &arav is used in a vague sense and does not, be it
noted, agree with the preceding SW'yara. The word 7vTIEOpavarvwTac is a a'r
Xey6t,Evov of uncertain meaning, explained by Hesychius as o-vU7rE7rTwKce, which
is probably right. Verrall's translation "and it was all put together again"
(the pseudo-god confesses that there was no miracle) will not commend itself
to many, but it makes clear that the meaning is uncertain.
This seems definite enough; and so it is. But Dionysus is

now describing what happened inside the palace, or, more
exactly, inside the stables where he was imprisoned. That
these, and perhaps an unspecified part of the palace, were
wrecked inside we may well believe. It is not necessary to
suppose either that the stables were completely destroyed, or
even that they were visible from the stage.
What then remains of the 'palace miracle'? An earth-
tremor, a flame on Semele's tomb, and the fact that the god
'brought the place down' around Pentheus. A couple of col-
umns crashing down inside the stables would be quite enough,
but in any case there is nothing that contradicts what can
easily have been seen and heard on the stage. The rest of
the miracle, for it is a real one, we are not supposed to see
happening before us.14
When Pentheus comes out, he makes no reference to the
disaster, and he seems to see no connection between the escape
of his prisoner and what happened to him within, or, more
likely, he is supposed to be too angry to think at all, too angry
to take warning from Dionysus' still calm and almost con-
ciliatory words (645-659).
A herdsman now arrives from the hills and has a marvelous
tale to tell, incidentally disproving the king's allegations of
drunkenness and debauch. He narrates how they attempted
to capture the Bacchanals, but only drove the women to frenzy
until they turned on the herdsmen and put them to flight;
how, armed with the thyrsus only, the maenads tore cattle
limb from limb, and descended upon a neighbouring village,
being immune it would seem from the weapons of the inhabi-
tants.'5 Let the king accept the god of wine, 'for where there
is no wine, there is no love, or any other joy for men.'
14 In any case Dionysus is not telling the Chorus the whole truth, since he
is still hiding from them the fact that he is the god.
15 Verrall, since the tale is miraculous and he denies that there are any genu-
ine miracles in Euripides, tries to discredit the messenger; he is, we are told,
a low fellow, credulous and easily impressed; he cannot have seen all that he
narrates and should quote his authority if he wishes to be believed. However,
The dialogue that follows between Dionysus and Pentheus

is the turning-point of the play. It begins by the king calling
out the army, the fatal step, as we know (780-786). The god
still makes one last offer to avoid a clash. There is nothing
in the play to suggest that the offer he is about to make is
not genuine. We saw in the prologue that his aim was to
'put things right' in Thebes and then pass on. Since then
the Chorus have made two appeals to Thebes (105, 519), and
Dionysus has, if one may apply the expression to so august
a personage, kept his temper well in spite of strong provoca-
tion. He does so even now, though he knows that the case
is all but hopeless (802):
Dion. My friend, it is still possible to put things right.

Pen. How? By being the slave of my own slaves?
Dion. I shall bring the women here without a battle.
Pen. Ah me. This is some trick that you devise against me.
It is not a trick. Pentheus will be tricked later, but then he

will not suspect it.
Dion. What trick? I want to save you by my skill.

Pen. You have plotted this together, that you may revel for ever.
Dion. I have plotted-thus much is true-with the god.
Pen. Bring out my armour, and you-stop talking.
It is at this point that Dionysus gives up all attempt at con-

ciliation. If Pentheus is determined to fight the Maenads,
there is nothing more that man can do, and he must become
the ruthless god, for, whatever happens, his worship must be
accepted.
Dion . Ah . (ql)
Do you want to see the women on the hills?
The exclamation a interrupts the metre, and, as often, this is

a sign of hesitation or strong emotion. The god's whole atti-
tude changes at this point; the friendly giver of wine to all,
the leader of joyous worship, has been rejected, and we shall
miracles, even if genuine, must clearly occur off-stage, and it would be easy to
discredit any messenger, for messengers are usually of humble birth. The truth
is that there is nothing in this speech to indicate that it must be taken at any-
thing but its face-value. The same is true of the miraculous escape of the
women and the later messenger's speech.
see him no more. From now on he is cruel, ruthless, and

utterly unscrupulous in the method of securing his end. Pen-
theus is filled with desire to see the women, himself unseen;
and the god plays upon the more unsavoury side of the king's
character in such a way that he finally agrees to be led to the
hills in women's clothes so that he shall see without being seen.
Dionysus has made up his mind. XVhat he considered as a
possibility in the prologue, that Pentheus would be obdurate
and lead his army against the women on Cithaeron, has be-
come a reality. But instead of opposing Pentheus in war, he
adopts a more-cruel and also a more tragic plan. It is over
the mind of Pentheus himself that he will establish his sway;
it is in the king's own soul that the power of the god will make
itself felt. As Pentheus enters the palace, the god turns to
the chorus for a moment before following him, and tells the
chorus of his plan: that on Cithaeron the young man shall be
torn to pieces by his own maddened mother and her com-
panions (848): "Dionysus, now the task is thine, for thou art
near." Again: "He shall learn to know Dionysus, the son of
Zeus, whose nature is most dread at the last (i.e. when pro-
voked, as Sandys explains it) though to men most gentle."
This short speech is in a manner the prologue to the second
part of the play. The god has indeed been gentle hitherto,
but all in vain. He discloses his plan now, because he has
only just conceived it. From now on he is completely set on
vengeance.
The mood of the chorus follows that of the god, but their
next ode (863-911) is still restrained, as he is. They are now
assured of triumph and so they rejoice, in a beautiful stanza,
that they will soon again be joining in the midnight revelry
of worship, like a fawn that has escaped the hunt. The refrain
celebrates the victory to come (876): "What is wisdom? What
more beautiful gift from the gods to mortals than to hold down
one's enemies, with mighty hand pressing upon the conquered
head?" This brutal sentiment is repeated after the antis-
trophe that sings of the slow but sure vengeance of the gods
over those who are mad enough to raise themselves over law
and custom. They then take up again the idea of escape,
which was expressed before by the image of the fawn, and
celebrate the happiness of those who have found a peaceful
refuge from the storm. The whole ode, singing of triumph
with so much restraint, admirably fills the interval between
the god's foretelling of victory and the full appearance of that
victory in the next scene. The paean of triumph will come
later.
There is no need to dwell upon the next scene between
Dionysus and Pentheus as they come out of the palace on
their way to the hills, for it is clear enough. Pentheus is now
completely in the god's power. He is drunk with the beastly
drunkenness of a puritan on a spree; he is stupid, childish,
boastful; he has lost all self-respect and self-control-all his
manhood; his 'peeping-Tom' mentality comes to the surface
in all its ugly deformity. As for the god, he too has under-
gone a deplorable change. He now plays with his victim as a
cat does with a mouse and his conduct is, as has been well
said, that of a fiend.16 For that is what Dionysus becomes to
a man like Pentheus. As he follows the king off the stage, he
speaks dreadful words of ugly triumph.
The choral ode that follows reflects the pitiless desire for
vengeance just exhibited by the god. The whole first stanza
is concerned with madness-that of Pentheus, that of Agave-
with the refrain that justice will appear with murderous sword
against the son of the earthborn (Pentheus). They then tell
how he has transgressed all bonds of modesty and sense, and
deprecate his overweening wisdom. Finally they call on
Dionysus to appear in one of his more terrible aspects, as a
bull, a serpent, a lion. If he laughs now, it is while he throws
the noose round his victim's neck. The theme and tone of
the Chorus are so obviously appropriate to this moment in the
development of the drama that we need not dwell on it. But
it is noteworthy that even at this pitch of excitement it is still
16 Norwood, The Riddle, p. 19.
true, as Sandys says, that "the chorus, however spirited and

enthusiastic their songs and dances may be, are never allowed
to break out into the frenzy which is characteristic of the
Theban Bacchanals." 17 That madness is reserved for those
who have denied the god.
The speech of the messenger which tells of the death of
Pentheus need not detain us. If the interpretation I have put
forward is correct, the miraculous details of the story are to
be taken at their face value, and the suspension of disbelief
will not be difficult, even for a modern spectator.
The chorus then (1153) break into a paean of triumph, and
they are to some extent infected with the mad joyful frenzy
of Agave, as she enters bearing aloft the head of her murdered
son and joins in their lyrics. Even when she quietens down
enough to tell her story in iambic metre, the mad delusion is
still upon her. It is only very gradually dispelled in a dia-
logue with the returned Cadmus, and at last comes the realisa-
tion of her horrible deed. This scene speaks for itself, and the
psychological insight with which the slow process of recovery
is depicted has been praised by all.
The lament of Cadmus over his grandson and only heir inci-
dentally shows Pentheus, whom we have only seen in a tower-
ing rage, in a more human light, giving protection to the old
man against all comers, and though the full kingly power had
been surrendered to him, he did not, it seems, forget the man
from whom it came. This whitewashing of the villain, be it
only posthumously, is almost a commonplace of Euripides'
dramatic technique. It was continued, if we may believe the
authorities, in the lament of Agave which is now lost, and she
too enlisted our sympathy, which Dionysus has forfeited, on
the side of her dead son.
The final scene is badly mutilated. We cannot even be sure
that all that remains is genuine. Dionysus appears once more,
probably in the machine, but only a fragment of his speech
remains. The structure of the play, the gradual change from
17 J. E. Sandys, The Bacchae of Euripides, note on 977.
the gentle to the terrible god, demands that he should appear

here in all his terrible glory, and the extant fragments agree
with this. For, after foretelling the fate in store for Cadmus,
he ends with the words (1341): " Had you learned sane reason-
ableness when you would not, you would be happy, having
gained Zeus' offspring as an ally."
The punishment inflicted on Cadmus is a puzzle to com-
mentators, for after all the old man did not deny the god.
But we have seen that his conversion was entirely due to
-unworthy motives, and in any case it is the nature of sin to
implicate innocent persons in its consequences. Euripides was
the last man to depict a mere poetic justice that the facts of
life forbid us to believe in. His divine forces are depicted as
they are, not as they would be if they conformed to man's
ethical requirements. That is why there is nothing incon-
gruous even in the recriminations of Cadmus to the god
(1344-51):
Cad. Dionysus, we have sinned, we pray to you.
Dion. Too late you learned to know me, and did not when you ought.
Cad. That we understand; but you punish us too far.
Dion. I suffered insults from you, though I am a god.
Cad. The anger of the gods should not be like mortals'.
Dion. My father Zeus ordered this long ago.
By 'this' he means not the tragedy of Pentheus of course,

but the nature of the gods and their anger. To argue with a
god is not to deny his existence, for men do argue with their
gods. The gods of Euripides, or the forces of nature or of the
human soul which they represent, are quite beyond human
approval or disapproval. It is not true that they must act
in a manner that conforms to human morality or be denied by
the poet. In so far as they are persons, they must, no doubt,
accept human standards or become devils. But in the first
place they may well be devils and yet exist, and in the second
place no one would suggest that Euripides believed in his gods
as persons in the full sense-even though to bring them on
the stage he must employ the contemporary symbolism, as
every poet must, and thus make them anthropomorphic.
Genuine or not, the rest of the scene is very weak, and adds
nothing whatever to the drama. There is one last difficulty:
Agave sets out on her exile with the words: " I will go where
Cithaeron shall not see me, nor my eyes gaze on Cithaeron;
where no memory of the thyrsus dwells. For them may other
Bacchants care." Much is made of this, for the queen seems
to renounce Dionysus. Actually, she only says that others
shall worship on Cithaeron and that the thyrsus is not for her.
Indeed, how could she, with her memories, take part in the
joyous revelry? In any case she certainly recognises the power
of Dionysus. It is upon this recognition alone that he insists;
the joy belongs to those only who follow him willingly.
If my interpretation of the dramatic structure is correct, we
have here a great power that functions in the lives of men,
represented as a god whose worship is glad and joyful. Thus
he at first appears and in this manner do his votaries describe
his worship. This worship, these glad tidings, they beg
Thebes to accept, this divinity men must recognise as in truth
the son of Zeus. He is so real and so powerful that those
who deny him are made mad-mad to the point of losing all
sense of reality as does Agave, frenziedly tearing her own son
limb from limb. Mad too are those clever men, those esprits
forts who, like Pentheus, in the pride of their widsom that is
no wisdom 18 (o v oY Luo4a), persist in their denial of some-
thing far greater and more vital than they. Their path leads
to utter destruction.
Who is this god? Wine is his symbol, because wine wipes
away those restrictions upon conduct (it is now the fashion to
call them inhibitions, but they are old enough) that are not
rooted in the inner instinctive self of any individual. If you
would know the true character of a man, give him wine, as
Plato said in the Laws."9 Thus is it true that the god of wine
lays bare the emotional nature, the fundamental passions of
men, Eros in its deepest and its widest sense, and in a sense
18 v.395.
19 Laws 648b.
therefore Dionysus may be taken as a symbol of those passions.

Recognise them as a necessary and welcome element in human
life, allow them to live in you and with you; they will give you
loveliness and joy. Ignore them, and they will conquer you
as they did Agave, and become themselves ugly in the process.
Deny them altogether, fight them, proclaim that they do not
exist, and they will tear you limb from limb like Pentheus.
And in that process the god has in truth become a fiend.

Dionysus in The Bacchae - Grube

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American Philological Association

IV.-Dionysus in the Bacchae

GEORGE MAXIMILIAN ANTONY GRUBE

TRINITY COLLEGE, UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

This paper will not be concerned with Euripides the Ration-

for the divine birth is the symbol of the whole drama. He

"He opposes me in godless fight (OeoAaXE-), banishes me from

It is important to grasp the exact tone of this passage, which

enter here since to them he is only a Lydian priest, he tells

at their age, highly unseemly.6 It should perhaps be added

The accusations of bibulous and sexual excesses are something

Pentheus tells us that he has already imprisoned some of

7 He explains it as arising from a confusion between the word ,urjpos, the

Cadmus then in turn appeals to the young king to recognise

in the stables and threatens to fight the women on the hills

They then prostrate themselves. This is the famous 'palace-

The palace is still standing, but by a most skilful use of a

This seems definite enough; and so it is. But Dionysus is

The dialogue that follows between Dionysus and Pentheus

Dion. My friend, it is still possible to put things right.

It is not a trick. Pentheus will be tricked later, but then he

Dion. What trick? I want to save you by my skill.

It is at this point that Dionysus gives up all attempt at con-

The exclamation a interrupts the metre, and, as often, this is

see him no more. From now on he is cruel, ruthless, and

true, as Sandys says, that "the chorus, however spirited and

the gentle to the terrible god, demands that he should appear

By 'this' he means not the tragedy of Pentheus of course,

therefore Dionysus may be taken as a symbol of those passions.

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