Is tragedy choral? Let us return finally to the question of origins, but let us do so while keeping strictly to the poetical, narrative and ritual dimensions. We will now be able to draw some conclusions regarding the pragmatics of the tragic choral voice – both masculine and feminine – as it is orchestrated by the poets who stage, in the service of the city, an action belonging to its heroic past.

Though he was both friend and collaborator of Johann Wolfgang Goethe in Weimar, Schiller was not significantly influenced by his fellow playwright. We find no allusion in his quasi-Aristotelian definition of ‘Tragedy’ to the famous triad canonized some thirty years later by the master of Weimar: Epos, Lyrik, Drama – the ‘three natural and authentic forms of poetry’. Admittedly, Goethe was at pains to nuance his thesis precisely in relation to ‘das ältere griechische Trauerspiel’, ‘the ancient Greek tragedy’. He explained that in a first phase of development of the genre the three natural forms of poetry merged into one, inasmuch as the main character was still the chorus and the lyric mode was predominant. Later, the three forms tended to diverge and to organize themselves in sequence within individual tragedies. Goethe therefore found within the genre of tragedy the clarity of narrative epic, the exaltation of lyric emotion and the personal action of drama.

To get to the root of the grave misunderstanding underlying modern notions of the lyric mode we must revisit this chapter in the history of tragic criticism.

Let us begin by looking at a tragedy that is largely choral. Aeschylus’ Persians was staged at the Great Dionysia in 472, only one year after the Battle of Salamis, where the Athenian fleet had defeated Xerxes’ armada. The Great King had invaded continental Greece, and on reaching Athens had set fire to the Acropolis and destroyed the temple of its tutelary deity Athena, the Old Parthenon. Aeschylus’ choregos was none other than Pericles. Here we follow the dramatic – and choral – unfolding of this tragedy whose action takes place in Susa, the capital of Persia.

In the wake of German Romantic aesthetic thought, Greek tragedy was appropriated by idealist philosophy as a basis for theories of the Tragic. This resulted on the one hand in a positive ontology that led, by way of tragic reversal, to man’s absolute conscience and freedom, and on the other hand in a negative ontology in which human nature’s fundamental indeterminateness eludes language. In this perspective, Greek drama acts as a salutary reminder that human reality eludes Enlightenment reason. A historicized version of these idealist theories of the Tragic, greatly influenced by Christian theology around divine Incarnation and Redemption, finds expression in recent work by various scholars; by staging divine men who suffer and gods who are all too human, Attic tragedy as a genre is held to refer to a ‘minimal theology’ based on the effects of time and animated by a ‘theoretical need’ that is instrumental rather than final; it presents on stage a series of paradoxical individualities. By relying on a template, it enables singular dramatic situations to ‘make sense’.

This chapter presents a new, annotated translation of the prose Anaplous Bosporou (Upstream Voyage on the Bosporos) by one Dionysios of Byzantion, written around the middle of the 2nd century AD. As the chapter introduction shows, this striking prose work is ‘perhaps the most detailed description of a landscape to have survived from the ancient world’, and expresses Dionysios’ admiration for his homeland. It also preserves a host of invaluable topographical details along both shores of the Thracian Bosporos and in the Golden Horn (especially the locations of sacred places), as well as information about fisheries. A new, detailed map shows many of the localities mentioned, with an inset showing the area immediately around Byzantion in more detail.

This chapter presents a revised, annotated translation of the Periplous (Circumnavigation) erroneously attributed to Skylax of Karyanda (Chapter 2 of this volume) but most likely written in 338–335 BC (conceivably by Dikaiarchos of Messana, Chapter 9), together with selected testimonia and fragments arranged as seven extracts. The translation reflects recent improvements to the Greek text. The chapter introduction characterizes the author’s conception of continental divisions and of the inhabited world as a sequence of ethnic regions. His focus on coastal topography, baldly enumerated, may reflect the aim of calculating the ‘length’ of each continent. This idiosyncratic work may have been intended for circulation only within Aristotle’s Peripatos (Lyceum); its impact seems to have been limited, other than perhaps upon Dikaiarchos and the late antique Euxine (Chapter 36). A new map summarizes the author’s clockwise ‘progress’ round the Mediterranean and Black Sea, while a second shows the key points in his portrayal of Greece and the Aegean.

This chapter presents new, annotated translations of various surviving works by Markianos of Herakleia, who is probably the man of that name who lectured at Constantinople just before and just after AD 400. The chapter introduction shows that it is to him that we owe one of the two collections of geographical works that survive from antiquity (perhaps built on foundations laid by Menippos); its sole surviving copy, though incomplete, includes several works translated in the present volume. The main work presented here is the partly extant abridgement of Markianos’ Circumnavigation of the Outer Ocean, dealing first (book 1) with the lands from eastern Africa to western China, and then (book 2) with the coasts of the northern Atlantic. To this are appended over 40 citations of Markianos by Stephanos of Byzantion and others, as well as the theoretical opening sections of Markianos’ epitome (précis) of Menippos (the whole epitome is in Chapter 21 of this volume). His perceptive preface to Ps.-Skylax is printed in Chapter 7. At many points, such as when discussing how to present distances that display systematic errors, he shows himself to be one of the most self-aware and methodologically astute of ancient writers, as well as exceptionally widely read. New maps explain his presentation of the Far East and northern Europe.

This chapter presents new, annotated translations of the principal testimonia and fragments of Aristeas of Prokonnesos (archaic period), arranged as six extracts. His lost Arimaspeia, in three books of epic hexameters, told of his journey beyond the Black Sea in the company of Apollo and, some said, in the form of a bird or a disembodied soul. It took him to the Issedones, who told of peoples beyond them: the dangerous, one-eyed Arimaspoi, at war with gold-guarding griffins; the unreachable Hyperboreans, prominent in the mythical geography of the Greeks. The detailed chapter introduction examines Aristeas’ grounding in the Greek experience of the Black Sea, his wider importance across the colonial Greek world, including the far west, and his relationship to Pythagoreanism and Orphism in those parts. Scepticism about Aristeas developed much later; but he is best viewed as a respectable aristocrat from a respected polis (city-state).