González de Salas’s “Of the Actors - Section IX,” Translated by Elizabeth Cruz Petersen, 2023

González de Salas’s “Of the Actors - Section IX,” pp. 185-189.

Translated by Elizabeth Cruz Petersen, 2023

[This is an addendum to my chapter “A New Perspective on Old Ideas in González de Salas’s Nueva idea de la tragedia antigua” in Pluralizing Philosophy's Past, edited by Amber L. Griffioen and Marius Backmann.][1]

The tragic characters, which remain, according to the distribution we made above, are the representatives. Different were they of the musicians and the dancers, and, at one point, less esteemed. However, later the prominence they reached in their profession put them in a superior degree of celebrity and singular honors. Their prosperous fortune varied in the Greeks and the Romans, later that same excess obliging some constitutions and senate consultations to prevent excesses and abuses of their estimation. 

  Others also prevented the nobility from performing in public theaters, admitting them first to the stage games, not only the reckless emperors but also the prudent and courageous emperors themselves.

  Some relics from antiquity bear witness to the perfection achieved by actors. One significant example is Quintilian’s recommendation that aspiring orators devote time to learning from skilled actors who can teach them gestures, actions, and elegant pronunciation. Even the great Cicero relied on Roscius and Aesop, renowned actors, as evidenced by his mention of them in his discussion of chironomia (a studied art of the ancients). We touched on this subject in our work Petronius, where we vividly depicted an actor portraying a woman of great beauty who used graceful hand movements to enhance the charm of her words. Likewise, distinguished actors sought out orators, notably when they defended their clients in court, to bring refinement and elegance to their performances in the theater. 

  Aulus Gelius wrote that Hortensius, the greatest orator of his time after Cicero, was mainly concerned with his gestures and actions. Valerio Máximo recounts that even the famous performers Rocio and Aesop did the same, specifically when Hortensius spoke. However, anyone who observes the lengthy and scrupulous precepts that Curio Fortunaciano makes in his Rhetorical Art will understand how admirable the ancient school of oratory exercises was for performances on stage. It is certainly something well worth reading.

  One can also deduce the eminent power of their dynamic actions from the effects produced, as Lucian relates. He reports that it was common to see many audience members shed tears when actors portrayed a tragic event. Moreover, I observe another thing from Quintilian that, in my opinion, even more convincingly demonstrates the power and genuine artifice of their acting. Following the excellent topic in his treatise on the education of an orator, which I discussed earlier, regarding the importance of genuinely dressing oneself in the emotion one seeks to convey to others, he says that he saw many actors who, having just played the role of someone whose fate had been tragic, would still be weeping when they left the stage. They were so passionately moved by what they wanted to represent that it became more of an inner emotion than a deceptive appearance.

Thus, we discover that what Luciano said earlier is easy to believe, according to the same doctrine of Quintilian, since genuine tears undoubtedly tend to produce similar feelings. The emotions imprinted in the playwrights’ compositions were also of utmost importance for this, as we observed earlier. Horace informs us that the Greek tragedian Puppius wrote tearful plays, which (as an ancient commentator adds) compelled those who saw them to weep, and this is where he got the idea to write this epigram: “When I die, the tears of my friends will be frequent, for while I lived, people wept so much because of me.”

  However, without a doubt, the playwrights’ excellence would be lost without the performers. As noted above, [dynamic action] was the custom in the early ages of tragedy, well demonstrated by many, from Livius Andronicus, a writer and tragedy actor, as testified by Titus Livius, Valerius Maximus, and Donatus. This type of acting was also common practice in Athens, as we see today in our own theaters, where the directors of the plays themselves often perform in them. Perhaps this is how the tragedies of Puppio, as fame has indicated, were achieved because he was the principal actor of them himself.

  The careful observation of precepts that they followed in the performance is also an indication of their excellence. Quintilian not only differentiates the modes of pronunciation between tragic and comic actors, saying that the former should be grave and with pauses, and the latter more hurried; and that Roscius, the comic actor, and Aesop, the tragic actor, executed this well. Nevertheless, he distinguishes the proper rhythms and movements among the characters that can be introduced in theatrical actions, observing other things in that chapter worthy of being read. Those two actors, Roscius and Aesop, were of great renown. As Flavius Albino relates, Cicero regularly communicated with them, defending them and taking care of their conveniences with great attention and care, as evident in his letters and speeches. [2] Macrobius also reports, and John of Salisbury repeats, that Cicero himself used to compete with Roscius to see who could recite a line in more different ways. From this, Roscius acquired such presumption that he wrote a book comparing the art of good speaking with that of performance—all indications of the esteem and perfection they achieved in that era.

Undoubtedly, other excellent stage artisans among the Greeks were also skilled in every creative profession. Lucian recounts a strange incident about a tragic performer named Archelaus, which will equally satisfy his eminence. He alone, it is said, was the cause of an epidemic of delirium among the Abderites when their prince was Lysimachus. The symptoms progressed very regularly at first. The afflicted suffered from a high fever which continued until the seventh day, when it ended as if by decree; in some cases, it ended with a copious flow of blood, and in others, with equally excessive sweating.

  Nevertheless, a ridiculous frenzy generally consumed them during this time. As tragic actors, they recited verses from Euripides’ Andromeda with exaggerated voices, especially those who portrayed the character of their beloved Perseus. Archelaus extended this prolonged madness when he performed that tragedy and that character during a scorching heatwave. As the audience increased, the heat intensified the fever, and the intensity of the living emotions of that performance triggered the fever and delirium. They triggered this disordered affection because audience members perceived these emotions with great vehemence, intensely impressed upon their imaginations. We should consider a brave cause when theater produces such remarkable effects.

NOTES:

[1] I used Luis Sanchez Lailla’s transcription of González de Salas’s text as a reference. I also utilized ChatGPT Mar 14 Version for suggestions on improving my translation. Feel free to suggest any changes/corrections that could enhance my interpretation of Salas’s work. Thanks!

[2] Salas references Macrobius’s Satunalia (Sanchez Lailla 690n571). See https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/L/Roman/Texts/Macrobius/Saturnalia/1*.html#3.

References:

• Petersen, E.C. “A New Perspective on Old Ideas in González de Salas’s Nueva idea de la tragedia antigua” in Pluralizing Philosophy’s Past. Edited by A.L. Griffioen and M. Backmann. Palgrave Macmillan, 2023, pp. 45-61. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-13405-0_4

• González de Salas, Jusepe Antonio, Nueva idea de la tragedia antigua, edición y estudio de Luis Sánchez Laílla, Kassel, Edition Reichenberger, 2 vols, 2003.