As mentioned earlier, Victor Castellani (whom I keep confusing with Philip Vellacott, who wrote a poor translation of the Bacchae) wrote the article "That Troubled House of Pentheus in Euripides' Bacchae"(TAPA, 1974) about the question of what happens to the palace during the earthquake scene. Now, back in my nest, I took the time to read it again.
Taking a middle ground between two opposing camps, Castellani argues that something does happen to the palace - but not very much, because of 1) the limitations of Greek stagecraft and 2) linguistic evidence throughout the play which focuses on the prefix "dia-", which means "through", or, more importantly here, "split" or "apart". Castellani posits that some sort of device onstage formed a visible split or crack in the house which persisted until the end of the play; the earthquake scene might also have included the crashing of drums and a flame spurting from Semele's visible tomb. [I think Castellani might have missed good evidence in Pentheus' speech in this section of the play: if P. sees a double Thebes and a double sun, might he not see a double palace? The palace is the only part of Thebes that would be visible.]
The question is perhaps not fully answerable, but the article does offer a good alternative to the two other camps (for a more detailed list of previous scholarship, read the article), which argue that 1) since characters say so, the house is fully destroyed during the earthquake - which is problematic, since people later enter and leave the house, and 2) that the earthquake/damage is entirely imaginary. The latter option still stands, but it is certainly less exciting to imagine, and it leaves the audience without a physical manifestation of Dionysus' power.
The rest of the article draws some conclusions about how the house of Pentheus is symbolized by the palace and its destruction, and how language used throughout the play foreshadows or echoes its eventual destruction. It drags on, as articles do, and makes some speculative claims, as articles also do. In my opinion, the first part is the more interesting part, and provides a clever and moderately convincing theory for how we might imagine the stage effects of the original production.
This installment contains the third stasimon, one of my favorite parts of the play. The strophe contains a beautiful and grammatically complex simile comparing a Bacchant woman to a fawn in danger who comes to a time of great joy; this probably symbolizes the coming defeat of Pentheus and the resultant security for the Bacchae - who have been portrayed throughout as chaste and endangered, despite their obvious physical power. The antistrophe describes the inability of man to contest against divine power and his folly in competing with divine law. Divine law is not presented as the result of reason and logic, but instead as precedent and good fortune. Humans do not know the true characteristics of gods like Dionysus; they must guess at appropriate behavior, repent if the deity is angered, and live in uncertainty about the nature of their gods and the correct path to avoid retribution from inherently unknowable powers. (Some have argued, and might have a point, about this fundamental uncertainty being a critical difference between Greco-Roman religion and the modern Abrahamic monotheisms.)
Continuing in this vein, both strophe and antistrophe end with what fits the more modern definition, a repeated chorus. There are alternate interpretations explained in Dodds, but I like to consider this chorus, which asks questions about the nature of knowledge and does not answer them, a stunning encapsulation of grappling with uncertainty. The questions "What is wisdom?" "What is the best gift from gods to men?" and their answers (?) could be read as a confirmation of the might of Dionysus or, perhaps, a pair of rhetorical addresses that remain unanswered in any convincing sense.
Two answers are provided: one is the proverb "What is good is always loved". Does it justify the murder of Pentheus, as something "good"? The question underlying this is one asked often in Greek culture, of how to define what "good" is; stating this sentence may simply ask a third impossible question.
The other answer is contained in the atypical ending choral song, which was the first part of the play I translated. A man upon the sea is lucky enough to survive, and he is apparently happy; a person who overcomes work is the same; the hopes of man are sometimes realized, and sometimes not. The chorus here should perhaps be stressing the prospect of deliverance through Dionysus, that gods can promise a consistent and reliable end to mortal pain - as they have said about Dionysus. Instead, they offer the message that life is inconstant, and the only person who can be truly called happy is he who incurs no risk of a reversal of fortune, because death has sealed off that possibility.
P.S. Sorry, this was a really fascinating passage, and I didn't get to discuss everything in as much detail as I would have liked, so here is some truncated food for thought. Take notice of Pentheus' vision of the god as a bull - the bull is a symbol of the feral side of D.'s power, and has repeatedly appeared; D.'s success in feminizing P.; the chilling, repetitive, cruel use of foreshadowing by Dionysus as he toys with his disturbed and defenseless victim.
862-976
CHORUS: When will I stamp my white foot
in the all-night dances,
breaking forth in revelry,
tossing my head in the dewy air,
like a fawn playing in
the green pleasures of the meadow,
when it has escaped the dreadful hunt,
gotten beyond the watchers,
over the well-woven nets,
as the shouting hunter stretches out
the chase of his dogs?
In the exertion of swift running,
like the winds, she bounds over
a plain beside a river, delighting
in the solitary places apart from men
and the shoots of the forests with shady leaves.
What is wisdom? Is there a greater honor
given from gods to men,
than to hold your hand in power
over the heads of your enemies?
What is good is always loved.
Divine power is provoked only
with difficulty, but it’s trustworthy
all the same. It rectifies those of mortals
who pay heed to ignorance and those
not giving due honor to the gods
in their mindless judgment.
They intricately conceal
the lengthy pace of time
and hunt down the unholy man.
It’s not necessary ever to understand
or contemplate anything
that goes beyond the laws.
It is a light expense
to think that, whatever the divine is,
that which has been law for a long time
is eternal and rooted in natural law.
What is wisdom? Is there a greater honor
given from gods to men
than to hold your hand in power
over the heads of your enemies?
What is good is always loved.
Happy is he who has escaped a storm upon the sea,
and reached a harbor;
happy is he who has overcome his toils:
each man outdoes another man in another way
in terms of wealth and power.
Millions upon millions are the hopes of man:
some end in happiness for mortals, and others pass away
but he who lives in happiness every day of his life,
I consider that man blessed.
(Enter DIONYSUS)
DIONYSUS: You who are eager to see things which should be seen
and those which should not, I speak to you, Pentheus,
Come out in front of the house, so I may see you,
wearing the dress of a maenad, a female Bacchant,
a scout for an ambush upon your mother.
(Enter PENTHEUS)
You are dressed perfectly like one of Cadmus’ daughters.
PENTHEUS: It seems to me that I see two suns,
and a double Thebes, the seven-gated city,
and you seem to be before me in the shape of a bull,
and that horns have grown upon your head.
Were you then a bull before? You are certainly bull-like now.
DIONYSUS: The god accompanies us – he was not pleased before –
in alliance with us. Now you see what you should see.
PENTHEUS: How do I look? Aren’t I similar in form
to Ino, or to my mother Agave?
DIONYSUS: Looking at you, it seems I’m looking at them.
But this lock of hair has moved from where it sat,
not like I arranged it, under the headband.
PENTHEUS: Carrying on inside, and dancing around
in revelry, I tossed it out of place.
DIONYSUS: Well, I’ll arrange it again, since I care
to help you so. Now straighten your head.
PENTHEUS: Come, arrange it. For I’m depending upon you.
DIONYSUS: Your belt is loose, and your robes
aren’t stretching to your ankles correctly.
PENTHEUS: It seems fine to me on the right leg.
But on this side it’s straight against the knee.
DIONYSUS: Perhaps you should hold me first among your friends,
when you see the Bacchae are modest, not like as you said.
PENTHEUS: Should I hold my thyrsus in my right hand
or in the other, in order to simulate a Bacchant better?
DIONYSUS: You should hold it in your right hand and at the same time
raise your right foot. I’m pleased that you’ve changed your mind.
PENTHEUS: Will I be able to the hills of Cithaeron,
along with the Bacchae themselves, upon my shoulders?
DIONYSUS: You will, if you want. Earlier you weren’t
in a proper state of mind; but now you’re in the right place.
PENTHEUS: Should we carry crowbars? Or should we throw an elbow
or a forearm under the peaks, and pull them up with our hands?
DIONYSUS: You should not destroy the temples of the Nymphs
and the home of Pan, where his pipe-music rests.
PENTHEUS: You spoke beautifully. The women cannot
be conquered by force. I’ll hide myself in the pine-trees.
DIONYSUS: You will hide in your hiding when you should hide yourself,
coming as a crafty spy upon the maenads.
PENTHEUS: Ah! It seems to me that they are like birds in thickets,
in the beloved confines of lover’s beds.
DIONYSUS: So you are sent as a guard against this very thing.
Perhaps you’ll seize them all, if you are not seized first.
PENTHEUS: Escort me through the middle of Thebes.
I am the only man among them who dares to do this.
DIONYSUS: You alone suffer this for the city, you alone.
So the necessary struggles await you.
Follow me. I will be your guide and savior.
Later, another will lead you forth.
PENTHEUS: My mother, yes.
DIONYSUS: As a message for everyone.
PENTHEUS: I’m departing because of this.
DIONYSUS: You will return being carried.
PENTHEUS: You’re speaking of my extravagance.
DIONYSUS: In the hands of your mother.
PENTHEUS: You’re compelling me to luxury!
DIONYSUS: Yes, such luxury!
PENTHEUS: I claim what I deserve.
DIONYSUS: Monstrous, you are monstrous; a monstrous torment awaits you,
so your fame will be fixed in the heavens.
Agave, kindred daughters of Cadmus,
reach out your hands. I bring a young man
into a great contest, in which I and Bromios
will be the winner. The rest, events will show.
(Exit DIONYSUS and PENTHEUS)
Notes:
Nymphs are minor nature goddesses who personify various aspects of nature - streams, forests, trees.
Pan is a half-goat, half-man nature divinity of uncertain parentage. He symbolizes the chaotic power of nature, music, fertility, and sexual aggression.
