Oresteia I
Aeschylus' Oresteia is one of the greatest dramatic works ever written, but it is not an easy work to comprehend. There are many difficulties: The most obvious is the fact that it is written in a Greek style that is difficult, if not impossible to translate well. To make matters worse, much of the three plays is written in an elaborate lyric verse that has no parallel in modern languages. Finally, the mind-set of Aeschylus, which was shaped by his experiences in early Fifth Century Athens, is so different from the modern liberal assumptions that nearly everyone, including conservatives, take for granted that it is all too easy to fall into the progressive trap of seeing Aeschylus as an apostle of enlightenment and radical democracy. I do not say that mine interpretation is the only possible one, but I do think it is more consistent with the response that older members of his audience would have had.
Background
Note: I am not going to repeat all of what I posted on Aeschylus and the political background to his plays on the discussion of the Seven Against Thebes. It can be found on our website: http://www.chroniclesmagazine.org/?p=191
Aeschylus produced the Oresteia , three plays on the murder of Agamemnon, his son Orestes' revenge upon the killers, and Orestes' redemption, in 458 B.C., only two years before his death. Born about 525, he would have been over 65. He had lived through the heroic age of Athens, when she and Sparta had led the resistance to Persian conquest, first in 490 and then again in 480.
Born in late 6th C. at Eleusis, he would have been about 15 when the Pisistratids (the sons of the tyrant Pisistratus) were overthrown. He was born into a “Eupatrid” family--in other words to an aristocratic clan claiming descent from mythical kings of Athens. He is said aid to have been initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries, though there is also a story that he was tried for impiety in disclosing some of the ritual secrets in one of his plays, but he defended himself on the grounds of ignorance.
Like other Athenian aristocrats of his time, he fought the Persians at Salamis in 480 and was most likely with his brother at Marathon ten years earlier, where he lost his life grabbing hold of a Persian ship. His earliest surviving play the Persians (472) commemorates the Greek struggle for freedom. The Seven Against Thebes (467) takes up the subject of Oedipus sons/ Antigone’s brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices, who fought for control of their city and killed each other. We do not have more than the one play, but the role of the Fury, the curse of Oedipus upon his ungrateful sons is prominent.
Ancient biographical information, as Mary Lefkowitz has shown in her early work, was usually anecdotal and fanciful. It was often no more than a just-so story invented to explain something in the author's text. We do know that Aeschylus did begin his dramatic career in the early 490’s and won his first victory in 484. He earned 28 in all--which makes him probably the most popular Athenian playwright. A suspicious biographical tradition says he was defeated by the young Sophocles, who was helped by his friend, Cimon, and, mortified over the rejection, he went to Sicily where the tyrant of Syracuse, Hiero, was a great patron of literature, particularly Pindar. He is more likely to have gone for the fun or profit of it. Aeschylus’ Prometheus Bound is clearly influenced by Sicilian locale. (The attempt to debunk Aeschylean authorship is entirely unpersuasive to those who know anything of scientific method.) We do not know how long Aeschylus stayed in Sicily.
Aeschylus was celebrated for his contributions to theatrical art. He was a great poet/musician, who also excelled in stage-craft, and added the second actor to the cast and later used third actor, added by his younger contemporary Sophocles. I shall provide more historical background, as it becomes relevant to the story, but let us first look at the mythical material on which the poet could have drawn.
The Myth
The story of Agamemnon’s return to his home, his murder by his wife and cousin, and the subsequent revenge taken by Orestes goes back to the Homeric cycle of poems. In the Iliad , he is the great high king of Mycenae, who assembled the expedition against Troy to take revenge on all of Troy for the crimes of Paris, who seduced Helen, wife of his brother Menelaus, and took Menelaus’ treasures to Troy. This was more serious than a case of mere abduction or adultery. Paris was Menelaus' guest (xenos ), and his action violated the rules laid down by Zeus Xenios. We are not told in Homer, though it is probably hinted at, but there was a story that unfavorable winds delayed the expedition--probably because Agamemnon shot a deer sacred to Artemis, who demanded that the blood of an innocent virgin be shed, namely by the daughter of Agamemnon, Iphigeneia.
With the help of Zeus, the Greeks sacked Troy, and some of them committed crimes (burning temples, blaspheming the gods, etc.) in the moment of victory. Most of them had hard times returning home,the most famous example being Odysseus, whose story is recounted in the Odyssey, where the story of Agamemnon’s homecoming is also told as a counterpoint.
But there is more to the story of Agamemnon's family than Homer tells, darker legends of cannibalism and incest that Aeschylus would have known from legend and from the lyric poets. Some of these stories the poet would have expected his audience to know, and some of them he alludes to explicitly. The origins of the house of Atreus--the father or grandfather of Agamemnon--go back to the mythical figure Tantalus, who, though favored by the gods, tested them by feeding the boiled flesh of his son Pelops. Pelops, restored to life, came to Greece, to Elis in the Peloponese where he bested the king in a chariot race, killed the king, took his daughter and killed the father’s charioteer who had cheated on his behalf.
The next generation is also stained with crime. Atreus and his brother Thyestes are persuaded by their mother to kill their step-brother; then the two quarrel over the throne. Thyestes seduces Atreus’ wife Aerope and seizes power. Atreus flees but feigns reconciliation and invites his brother to a banquet at which he serves mystery meat. When the covers of the dishes are taken off, they reveal the heads of Thyestes’ children. Thyestes kicks over table and curses Atreus and his posterity. (Helios the sun god himself turned away).
Seeking revenge, Thyestes receives an oracle saying he must have sexual relations with first woman he meets. Acting on this advice, he rapes a girl he finds bathing only to discover that she is his long-lost daughter, Pelopia, and the product of this union is Aegisthus. The child is exposed but brought to Mycenae to be reared in the household of Atreus. There are many twist and turns to this dark family soap opera, many of them not known or ignored by Aeschylus, but some of the elements of this story form the semi-conscious backdrop of the trilogy.
Agamemnon: Prologue
The scene is set in Argos, rather than Mycenae, perhaps because the Argives were allies of Athens and held possession of ancient Mycenae now only a village. The play begins at night as chorus of elders--too old to have gone to Troy ten years earlier--and the Queen waits for news of Troy. A sort of telegraph of fire signals has been set up across the Aegean to alert the queen of the success of the expedition.
The watchman’s first line is ominous: "I pray to the gods for release from toils." This might mean only he is tired of staying up all night, lying like a dog, as he says, but release from ponoi, sufferings, is the great theme of play. He hints at dark secrets that he will not disclose. Agamemnon the divinely appointed avenger has punished Priam and his family for their crime, in violating the laws of Zeus Xenios, but he has compromised himself, first by sacrificing his daughter Iphigeneia, to secure favorable winds, and second by destroying Troy and its temples. He has behaved, not as a Greek should behave, but like a barbarian, like Priam or Xerxes. During his 10-year absence, his wife has carried on an affair with Agamemnon’s cousin Aegisthus, the only surviving offspring of Agamemnon’s uncle Thyestes, who strove with Agamemnon's father Atreus for the throne. Atreus punished Thyestes treachery by killing his brother’s children and feeding them to their father. This act has caused a curse to fall upon Atreus and his family. That much we are expected to know, and with this cheerful beginning, the chorus enters to tell story of Troy, the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and reflect on meaning.
Parodos
The Parodos means, literally, the entrance of the chorus--12-15 male citizens who can sing and dance but are not professional actors. It is divided into two parts: first, the actual entrance of the chorus who march in chanting in anapaestic dimeters, which sound roughly uu-uu- uu-uu- but with many variations. Some stray lines from Tennyson's Maud convey some of the range:
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
But the rose was awake all night for your sake
Then they take up a position on the orchestra, dancing floor, and perform a lyric ode at line 104. Although it is written in a complex and difficult manner, this musical performance is one of the most important passages in the entire work. The meter is a combination of dactylic (-uu) and iambic (u-u-) elements, which we know, both from a scholion (marginal note) and from other sources, to have been characteristic of a very early musical form known as the kitharodic nomos. Generally, lyric passages were accompanied by the aulos, a reed instrument, and that may well be the case here, but the genre is one that required the kithara, a concert lyre. When Aristophanes parodies Aeschylus' grand style in the Frogs and quotes from this parados, he imitates the sound of the lyre by repeating to phlattothrat to phlattothrat. For further discussion of the nomos in the Oresteia, I refer you to an old article of mine, "The Musical Nomos in Aeschylus' Orestei a," Classical Journal , 1977.
Well, what is that all about? First off, Aeschylus is imitating the high semi-epic style of Greek choral lyric poetry and, as I argued in my CJ article, punning on the word nomos throughout the play: Nomos means a specific musical form but more commonly it means the fundamental laws and principles of a society. He wants the spectators to know they are participating in something like a liturgy, in which the most important principles will be discussed.
I won't try to elucidate the entire passage but will rely on questions for opportunites to bring clarification. Let us, though, look at the basic tale. Aeschylus does not tell us that Agamemnon had actually committed any sin against Artemis, only that unfavoring winds prevented the expedition from sailing against Troy on its mission of divine vengeance. The seer Calchas sees to eagles devour a pregnant hair--woodland creatures are sacred to Artemis--and he devines the truth: The expedition cannot sail until Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter. What? You see, the pregnant hare is Troy with all its people; the two eagles are hte royal Atridae--eagles are not only emblems of kingship but they are birds of Zeus. Thus, Agamemnon, to fulfilll the will of Zeus will also commit a great crime. In advance he must make his own sacrifice of an innocent and at the same time show himself the criminal that he will become. Please note that the sense of time and psychology are almost entirely alien to us moderns, except to the best poets. But, in general, Aeschylean lyrics are like the Christian liturgy in which time is of little importance. In the sacrifice of the Mass, we are present with all believers everywhere and at all times. Thus Agamemnon, in killing his daughter is also destroying the innocent people of Troy and burning their temples.
Agamemnon’s choice is difficult, if not impossible. One set of critics who see him as doomed; another would emphasize his free will. In fact, Aeschylus neatly solves the fate v. free will question in saying that he puts his neck under the yoke of necessity--a line masscred by Richmond Lattimnore who says something like the yoke is thrust upon him. No, for Aeschylus we are at the intersection of free will and ananke (necessity). But, once he decides, "the winds of his spirit shift"--note the brilliance of the metaphor in a context where shifting winds is the issue--and he becomes a man capable of crime.
Finally, I'll just say one more thing about the Parodos and that is the famous "Ode to Zeus." The invocation of the god's name--or whatever name you like--is partly a formula arising from the caution of a people with many religious traditions, but, I think, it clearly hints at Aeschylus' view of Zeus as a great god above all gods, a benign and just ruler of the universe. But his violent accession to power--here we go back to Hesiod--is also paralleled by the succession of the Atridae. We are dealing here with a very serious attempt to grapple with the nature of god and of human morality. Aeschylus follows what will later be known as the via negativa--Zeus cannot be compared with anything else, including the other gods, and he is ultimately the answer to every question. A cycle of violence and crime in the Atridae paralles also the crime or sin of Paris and Priam (160 ff. ) Where does it end? The only hope lies in a notion he repeats: wisdom comes by suffering. One might extrapolate from this that people not afflicted with suffering can never be wise. One might not want to propose this as an absolute rule--though sufficiently modified to include spiritual suffering, I would--but it certainly fits in with our observation of human beings. Those who have not been tested, tried by fire, tend to be childish and foolish.
Scene One: Clytaemestra and Chorus and First Stasimon
The chorus is overjoyed to learn from Clytaemestra that Troy has been taken, but pressing her for proof they are told of the light signals that had been set up. One can visualize the lights as being kindled by the flames of burning Troy. The queen shows her rhetorical, even magical skill in hoping that the Achaeans have been pious enough to refrain from attacking the shrines of the captured town (337 ff.) She knows that boys will be boys, but even if they do not offend the gods and reach home safely, "the suffering of the dead ones might become awake--oh may not fresh/unexpected evil occur!....May the good prevail." It is as if she has already been weaving the net in which she shall trap her husband.
The chorus sings the first stasimon, an ode to the justice of Zeus. Immoderate wealth and success breed the arrogance the leads to ruin. This is, in a nutshell, the Greek wisdom. "It has been said by some one that the gods deign not to be mindful of mortals who trample underfoot the grace of inviolable sanctities." This is meant to apply to Priam, but Agamemnon's conquest of Troy, soon to be reenacted by him in walking on the expensive textiles his wife spreads before him.
Paris was too clever, and in stealing Helen he only brought ruin to his city. A beautiful picture is drawn of Menelaus longing for his absent wife, whom he sees in dreams. This is converted into the longing that the soldier's families have for their return, but all that come back are urns filled with ashes. "For Ares barters the bodies of men for gold." What a line: It perfectly captures the horror of wars waged for loot and, worse, for "another man's wife." Here is our first hint that all may not be well at Argos, where the sons of Atreus are resented for this ruinous war. "It weighs heavy, the wrathful voice of citizens; it pays the people-ordained debt/office of a curse. Now they hint that Agamemnon may be like Priam, the mountaintop that is struck first by lighteninng. However, they conclude with a prayer for good fortune and good omens. "Whoever prays otherwise for this city, let him reap the sin of his mind, that is, if anyone is using duplicitous language to bring the city to harm, let him pay for his ill intentions. I do not think they consciously mean the queen, but the words apply to her.
Scene Two : The Herald and Clytaemestra
The Herald enters at 503, thanking the gods for being able to die on his native soil and announcing the return of King Agamemnon. He is not a servant but a descendant of a noble family with this hereditary duty. A bit of verbal play, so dear to Aeschylus: While earlier it was Agamemnon who submitted to the yoke of necessity, here he is thrusting it upon the Trojans . Unfortunately, we have also learned that the Greeks have laid waste the shrines and temples. The sadness of war is well-conveyed in the greetings exchanged between Herald and Chorus. It is good to remember that Athens was at war with Persia in 499 (the Ionian Revolt) 490 (Marathon) and again from 480 down past the production of the trilogy. Like the Homeric heroes, the Athenians and their allies were attacking an Asiatic power that had violated divine principles of justice and like Agamemnon, Athens would proceed to imitate the injustice of her enemy.
Clytaemestra enters, with feigned joy--she will later compare the return of a husband to the coolness of a house in the heat of summer. Here she wraps him up in enigmas. He will return to find her as loyal as when he left her, unchanged. She leaves and the Chorus questions the Herald about the aftermath of the war. Menelaus has disappeared in storm that destroyed much of the fleet. The Herald would rather not mar the day with allusions to the Greeks' bad luck, but he is urged to tell the story of how the avenging Erinyes inflicted divine wrath on the impious Greeks. Typical of the trilogy is Aeschylus' paradoxical phrase, the paian of the Furies--a paian being a song of healing and triumph sung to Apollo. Remember this later, when Apollo and the Furies are opposed.
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Which translation do you prefer?
I have the one by my senior-year English teacher, Dudley Fitts.
Dudley Fitts wrote well, usually, but fidelity to the text was never his strongest suit. I recommend against Richmond Lattimore. Cambridge is pushing Philip de May with introduction by Patricia Easterling, a hardworking scholar who has perhaps not contributed a great deal to the study of Greek drama. Mary Lefkowitz likes Ted Hughes, but I never a read a line of the poet laureate's that I could bear. Taking the surprise me option on Amazon yields: "Fear like a sudden lump of indigestion..." O dear. David Greene is ALWAYS deplorable, like most in the Chicago series or, for that matter, most everything connected with the Straussian conspiracy at Chicago. Lattimore, his collaborator, is generally hated by students, at least my students. I haven't read Fagles Penguin, with introduction by WB Stanford, but I have never been able to endure Fagle's pretensions to being a poet.
Douglas Young's quite literal and rhytmically interesting version is available very cheap. Sir Hugh Lloyd-Jones has a version I have not seen but it is bound to be intelligent and intelligible. I am going to order it just to read the introduction. Sir Hugh knows the text as well as any man alive today, and his interesting, though controversial views on Greek religion would give him a healthy perspective. I have always found Weir Smyth's Loeb conservative and useful
I have an old Penguin translation by a certain Philip Vellacott.That any good?By the way,whats your judgement on the Penguin Classics series?Be gentle.
In general I like the Penguins: They are cheap and plain, though they almost never attempt to reproduce anything like the tone or stye of the originals. Vellacott I haven't looked at in 30 years, but I did not like him then, either as a translator (groovy) or interpreter (flake).
"Finally, the mind-set of Aeschylus, which was shaped by his experiences in early Fifth Century Athens, is so different from the modern liberal assumptions that nearly everyone, including conservatives, take for granted that it is all too easy to fall into the progressive trap of seeing Aeschylus as an apostle of enlightenment and radical democracy. "
Perhaps it is best to wait until you discuss more of the play, but could you explain more thoroughly 1) how he is interpreted this way, and 2) how a contemporary Greek would view this work?
This will be the recurrent theme of our discussion. One sentence by way of anticipation. Progressives see the end of the Oresteia as the triumph of reason and democracy over religious superstition and the laws of blood and they interpret the procession of lights in the most banal symbol of enlightenment. I believe they are utterly and completely wrong.
Dr. Fleming,
This new thread is a welcome surprise. I look forward to your "electronic" lecture. I have always been interested in Greek and Roman history and their cultures, especially, the myths. However, I am weak on the literature, drama, and art of those times. Early in life, I became enthralled with Homer's two epics and I possess Robert Fitzgerald's translations of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Actually, I have some of the works of Aeschylus: Prometheus Bound, translated by Rex Warner, and a handsomely bound book of two of his plays, The Birds (translation: anonymous, but introduced by Dudley Fitts), and The Frogs, translated by William James Hickie. I received them as gifts, but have never read them: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Your presentation of Oresteia I should provide me with the inspiration to read the jewels I didn't realize I had.
I'm very curious to see TJF's anti-liberal interpretation -- my own reading of the Oresteia is rather as far from liberal-optimistic as I can imagine, but appears in the scholarship, if it appears at all, as 'another interesting wrinkle in the unplumbable Aeschylean depth', by which is meant, roughly, 'I have no idea why I hold my opinion about Aeschylus, and no idea why you hold yours, but maybe contradictions can be true after all, unlike what those silly, backwards Christians think!'
For what it's worth, the majority my undergrads don't seem to read the Oresteia progressively at all -- not, at least, until they're spoon-fed from some printed magisterial mouth, their intellectual humility thus turned against their comparatively incorrupt sensitivity to the text. (These are among the little bits of everyday experience that make me sometimes believe, if a bit romantically, that 'beauty will save the world'...)
Please polish your drafts a little more before posting them. This is really not up to your usual high standard.
This, too, depresses the hell out of me. ALL my classics are Lattimore, Greene, Fagles. What am I supposed to do? Living up to my moniker, I really hate everything about life today.
I have Sir Hugh Lloyd-Jones' translation here, and from his introduction I especially enjoy: "The style of Aeschylus is above all a grand style, designed, like his manner of production, to carry the audience far from the world of ordinary reality. Nouns are regularly adorned with resounding poetic adjectives; metaphors, often of startling boldness, are abundant; lofty periphrases are substituted for the ordinary names of things; descriptive passages are made rich with vivid imagery." He then goes on to discuss how this grandeur is combined with an archaic simplicity.
Regarding the short prologue, it is full of information.
Note the first oblique reference to Clytemnestra: "for such is the rule of a woman's man-counseling, ever hopeful, heart."
The Watchman says he weeps, "lamenting the misfortune of this house," referring directly to the absence of Agamemnon during the Trojan War but indirectly to the blood curses upon the house for past crimes, and foreshadowing things to come.
Also note the Erinys are first mentioned, who are important in the Eumenides: "And on high Apollo, it may be, hears
or Pan, or Zeus, the bird-voiced
shrill cry of these fellow dwellers in the sky
and sends on the transgressors her who brings punishment,
though late, the Erinys."
Just a query.
I put this link: http://www.chroniclesmagazine.org/?p=191, in the Chronicles Search and in the Google Search and I keep getting this post.
Am I doing something wrong, and/or is there another way to get to the above page?
Thank you.
In The Odyssey hospitality seems to be a central theme for the Greeks. Perhaps the significance of hospitality (Zeus is the god of hospitality, right?) could be discussed a little further.
Zeus is angry with Paris for violating his law, but why is Artemis "wroth with the kings" Agamemnon and Menelaus? And why is it necessary to sacrifice a human child in order to appease her? It is tempting to see the gods as arbitrary, but the chorus disagrees: "It has been said by someone that the gods deign not to be mindful of mortals who trampel underfoot...But that man knew not the fear of God!"
Similarly, I find it difficult determining exactly how the chorus views the war. They certainly aren't going to go against Zeus, but there are quite a few lines where Agememnon seems to be chastized for putting vain glory ahead of the fundemental law against killing one's child. They also say that "Ares bartereth the bodies of men for gold." And, further, they often throw in remarks about the fact that the war was fought over a woman.
Is Aesychlus trying to sort out some of the contradictions with being dutiful to the gods, family, and country? I don't mean that he would be rejecting those duties, but perhaps he is trying to make sense of seeming contradictions.
clarification: I mention The Odyssey just as an example of the Greek concern with hospitality. I realize we are reading Aesychlus not Homer.
The only form of international law the early Greeks had was the rule of hospitality. Even later on, when cities regularly had treaties and accorded certain privileges to each other's citizens, the foreign state had a local family or individual who stood as proxenos, that is, in loco hospitis, in the place of a host. Without a religious sanction, this tradition would have been all too easy to violate.
It is not always possible to know what a Greek poet is doing with his chorus, that is, to what extent they are a dramatic character with personal limitations and to what extent they express the poet's point of view. In the Oresteia, I would say, that the chorus is frequently confused--much like the chorus in the Pirates of Penzance that supports now one character and now the other--but their theology is strictly Aeschylus. What that morality is will only emerge from a look at specific passages, particularly the choral lyrics.
Hayer.
Have a look at the Rev. Lloyd Gross' moving letter to Chronicles of a few years back. A Christian gentleman who very nearly manifests a lack of hope---at least for our country. I also have the Lattimore and Fagle translations. The latter published what I thought (non Latinist that I am) was a decent realization of The Aeneid which I mentioned to TJF who gave me a quick corrective.
@10 A Hayter
All hope is not lost. I just returned from Fort Jackson SC where my son just graduated from army basic training. Apart from some female soldiers, there is no political correctness. The soldiers have been taught good manners and address me as Sir. It's a breath of fresh air. As Dr Fleming said about Xenophon, young men have a desire to fight, and from what I've seen on YouTube about the Legion Etrangere -- once considered the epitome of virility, the US army is both as disciplined and tougher. My son's drill sargeant has a masters degree, but preferred working with men (and some girls) and returned to active duty. Apparently, in the girlified work force there's no place for a bloke willing to offend his pathetic cringing bosses with the truth. It's almost enough to wish for conscription.
Hooah! And I'm ex-navy.
Mr. Gervaise,
I pray that your son and his comrades have a commander-in-chief who is worthy of them (I do believe in miracles).
Parodos
The Parodos means, literally, the entrance of the chorus--12-15 male citizens who can sing and dance but are not professional actors. It is divided into two parts: first, the actual entrance of the chorus who march in chanting in anapaestic dimeters, which sound roughly uu-uu- uu-uu- but with many variations. Some stray lines from Tennyson's Maud convey some of the range:
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
But the rose was awake all night for your sake
Then they take up a position on the orchestra, dancing floor, and perform a lyric ode at line 104. Although it is written in a complex and difficult manner, this musical performance is one of the most important passages in the entire work. The meter is a combination of dactylic (-uu) and iambic (u-u-) elements, which we know, both from a scholion (marginal note) and from other sources, to have been characteristic of a very early musical form known as the kitharodic nomos. Generally, lyric passages were accompanied by the aulos, a reed instrument, and that may well be the case here, but the genre is one that required the kithara, a concert lyre. When Aristophanes parodies Aeschylus' grand style in the Frogs and quotes from this parados, he imitates the sound of the lyre by repeating to phlattothrat to phlattothrat. For further discussion of the nomos in the Oresteia, I refer you to an old article of mine, "The Musical Nomos in Aeschylus' Oresteia," Classical Journal, 1977.
Well, what is that all about? First off, Aeschylus is imitating the high semi-epic style of Greek choral lyric poetry and, as I argued in my CJ article, punning on the word nomos throughout the play: Nomos means a specific musical form but more commonly it means the fundamental laws and principles of a society. He wants the spectators to know they are participating in something like a liturgy, in which the most important principles will be discussed.
I won't try to elucidate the entire passage but will rely on questions for opportunites to bring clarification. Let us, though, look at the basic tale. Aeschylus does not tell us that Agamemnon had actually committed any sin against Artemis, only that unfavoring winds prevented the expedition from sailing against Troy on its mission of divine vengeance. The seer Calchas sees to eagles devour a pregnant hair--woodland creatures are sacred to Artemis--and he devines the truth: The expedition cannot sail until Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter. What? You see, the pregnant hare is Troy with all its people; the two eagles are hte royal Atridae--eagles are not only emblems of kingship but they are birds of Zeus. Thus, Agamemnon, to fulfilll the will of Zeus will also commit a great crime. In advance he must make his own sacrifice of an innocent and at the same time show himself the criminal that he will become. Please note that the sense of time and psychology are almost entirely alien to us moderns, except to the best poets. But, in general, Aeschylean lyrics are like the Christian liturgy in which time is of little importance. In the sacrifice of the Mass, we are present with all believers everywhere and at all times. Thus Agamemnon, in killing his daughter is also destroying the innocent people of Troy and burning their temples.
Agamemnon’s choice is difficult, if not impossible. One set of critics who see him as doomed; another would emphasize his free will. In fact, Aeschylus neatly solves the fate v. free will question in saying that he puts his neck under the yoke of necessity--a line masscred by Richmond Lattimnore who says something like the yoke is thrust upon him. No, for Aeschylus we are at the intersection of free will and ananke (necessity). But, once he decides, "the winds of his spirit shift"--note the brilliance of the metaphor in a context where shifting winds is the issue--and he becomes a man capable of crime.
Finally, I'll just say one more thing about the Parodos and that is the famous "Ode to Zeus." The invocation of the god's name--or whatever name you like--is partly a formula arising from the caution of a people with many religious traditions, but, I think, it clearly hints at Aeschylus' view of Zeus as a great god above all gods, a benign and just ruler of the universe. But his violent accession to power--here we go back to Hesiod--is also paralleled by the succession of the Atridae. We are dealing here with a very serious attempt to grapple with the nature of god and of human morality. Aeschylus follows what will later be known as the via negativa--Zeus cannot be compared with anything else, including the other gods, and he is ultimately the answer to every question. A cycle of violence and crime in the Atridae paralles also the crime or sin of Paris and Priam (160 ff. ) Where does it end? The only hope lies in a notion he repeats: wisdom comes by suffering. One might extrapolate from this that people not afflicted with suffering can never be wise. One might not want to propose this as an absolute rule--though sufficiently modified to include spiritual suffering, I would--but it certainly fits in with our observation of human beings. Those who have not been tested, tried by fire, tend to be childish and foolish.
"punning on the word nomos throughout the play: Nomos means a specific musical form but more commonly it means the fundamental laws and principles of a society."
In Confucius I believe the term "rites" is used interchangeably for the procedures used to carry out liturgical ceremonies on one hand, and proper behavior in society on the other.
Socrates (as Plato depicts him anyhow) seems to invest an unusually high significance to the importance of music in education, am I right?
Perhaps music is analogous to the only worthwhile, balanced and graceful marriage of order + freedom that human beings can know; sans musical souls we are left with either sterile mechanistic regimentation on the one hand, or perversely manic chaos on the other. Give me the poets over the philosopher-kings any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
"Thus, Agamemnon, to fulfill the will of Zeus will also commit a great crime."
This is what I have trouble wrapping my mind around. Zeus is the supreme lawgiver, right? What does it mean to say that defending the law (avenging a violation against one's family) necessarily entails transgressing the law (murdering a child one is obliged to protect)?
MacIntyre said some stuff about Greek tragedy which I can't quite recall, but was something along the lines of the Greek tragic protagonist being someone who faced and made his choices in a no-win situation, and through his actions (and inevitable demise) brought some sort of revelation. Through the travails of an Oedipus men are brought closer to truth, for example. Or maybe I totally misunderstood MacIntyre.
This may be oversimplified and inappropriate in a discussion of Aeschylus, but I can't help comparing Agamemnon to Abraham -- the key difference being that God did not demand the actual sacrifice, only the willingness to perform it (signifying unconditional obedience to His sovereignty & trust in His judgment).
"One might extrapolate from this that people not afflicted with suffering can never be wise."
A possible paradox derived from this however would seem to be:you cannot properly suffer until and unless you've pursued and attained those very things that wise-men consider with ill-regard, such as fame, wealth, power etc..
In other words, the suffering of a shepherd or a slave is not the same as the suffering of a king.
It would seem that in order to better renounce the world,you need first to drink life to the lees.
Where does Aeschylus stand on all of this?
Everyone pursues what is hard to attain, whether it is monetary wealth or spiritual wisdom, and in acknowledging our failure we begin to be wise, as Socrates was wise when he said he was not wiser than other men except in knowing that he did not know what he did not know. A slave is not free to be fully human in this sense, which is why slavery is not a good idea, no matter how much you are paid at GM or Microsoft. What did Aeschylus make of it? Most Greeks thought it was a good thing to be rich and powerful and goodlooking. Whatever else they were, they were rarely--perhaps too rarely--hypocrites. An Olympic victor, says Pindar, leads a honied life, and in the same poem he pays tribute to the glorious condition of a Sicilian tyrant. But, as most Greeks--and certainly Pindar and Aeschylus--knew, it is the great ones who suffer the most.
I don't recall what McIntyre says on this question, and it may very well be what you cite, but I think it is quite wrong. I find most Catholic critics get tragedy wrong. One of them used to describe Greek tragedy as fatalistic and cited Chesterton to that effect. Chesterton did make that mistake, though elsewhere he conceded that while this people run around talking about fate, they act as if they believed in free will. Zeus did not require Agamemnon to transgress his laws in the capture of Troy, but he knows his man--or all men--well enough to realize that he will do just that. When we meet Agamemnon we shall see a man puffed up with pride in his success.
A Greek--and here I include myself--would see Abraham as an abominable creature. Yes, there is a sound Christian construction to be put on the story, but on the face of it the man was willing to kill his own son to please some primitive bloodthirsty deity. There are other stories of blood sacrifice in the OT, nearly all of them terrifying. No thanks, I'll put Athens over Jerusalem on this score--though there is the story of Minos to balance that of Jephtha and his daughter, but Fundies read these tales and begin talking about killing Palestinians for the God of the Jews, one more reason why unsupervised Scripture reading is not a good idea for the masses. You end up with John Brown.
It is rare to find in Christian moral theology the deep understanding of human aspiration and failure we get in the Oresteia. PErhaps it is because we believe that a man can be a serious stinker for 80 years and then repent on his deathbed, like Buonconte Montefeltro in Dante's Purgatorio, saved by one tear of repentance. What it is too easy to forget is that Buonconte is suffering in Purgatory, not singing with the heavenly choirs. Gregory the Great, who suffered unimaginably in his life--from incapacitating physical illness to betrayals to the Lombard invasion. He understood that both good and ill can be put to good and evil purposes. Where some Christian thought, in my view, has gone astray, is in simplifying every moral choice to one between good and evil. Liberals do the same thing. Too often it is a choice between evils--and I am not speaking now of the recent election, where there was no choice at all. Yes, it is always wrong to lie or steal but there are good causes that may compel us to do either. In feeding our child with a stolen loaf, we have done good, but we still have to make restitution and do penance for the theft. So, pity Agamemnon. What choice is without evil?
Dear Mr. Fleming,
In my number 7 above, I failed to attribute The Birds and The Frogs to Aristophanes. Sorry.
"Where some Christian thought, in my view, has gone astray, is in simplifying every moral choice to one between good and evil. Liberals do the same thing. Too often it is a choice between evils..."
Would it be useful to flip the choice between evils around, and put it in terms of a choice between two valid but mutually-exclusive goods?
I.e., in this case the tragic hero is put in a situation where he has to choose between honoring his relationship with his brother, and honoring his relationship with his daughter.
I only suggest this because it might highlight the problem with modern thought. Often the progressive's assumption is that all goods must be perfectly compatible with one another, and that those goods which do not fit so easily into the road-of-progress must not be goods at all.
Dr. Fleming,
How ought one translate the par(a) in "parodos," as before, introductory to, the ode?
@18 Joe
Your prayers are appreciated. The CIC is only part of the game. It was congress that lost the Vietnam police action, it was Nixon who ended the Kennedy/Johnson fiasco.
the -odos element is actually hodos, road or way, and the para would normally mean, in this compound, either beside or towards. Parodos in ordinary speech meant a passage or a passing by but it also meant a coming forward to speak in the assembly. Here it refers to the entrance of the chorus, who might have been perceived, so I imagine, as coming in from the side. Thus it the parodos is both their marching in as well as their singing of the ode <from adein, sing, which would otherwise be known as a stasimon, that is, a song sung after the chorus has taken up a position on the dance floor.
Were human sacrifices common in primitive cultures? If so, are animal sacrifices--which seem universal in the ancient world--an extension of some kind of primitive urge to make live sacrifice? In other words, why is sacrifice seemingly central to human religious experience? Is there any evolutionary explanation?
The description of Iphigenia's murder seems directed at invoking pity for the poor girl. Are we also to pity Clytaemestra? But, then, she is carrying on an affair, and is perhaps more interested in her own power and vanity than avenging her daughter's murder. The watchman and the chorus seem very anxious about what is going to happen to the city, and this seems to be where the curse on the house of Atreus comes in. The elders must expect that more blood will be shed.
On the Ode to Zeus: I'm probably looking at this from Christian assumptions, but does Aesychlus reflect a movement towards a more unified god of power and wisdom? Is he phasing out the other gods? Making God less human and more godlike? A prefigurement of the Christian understanding of God? Perhaps I'm reaching here.
When I say "primitive," I certainly mean prior to Greek civilization. I wouldn't want to be thought of calling the Greeks primitive.
The great Walter Burkert has devoted a major book, Hom Necans, to the question of human sacrifice among neolithic societies and the substitution of animal sacrifices. The Greeks preserved myths and legends of human sacrifice, which they generally found, like cannibalism, revolting.
There is a constant elevation of Zeus to the supreme god of justice, from Homer and Hesiod down to Aeschylus. That is the burden of Sir Hugh Lloyd Jones' The Justice of Zeus, which I have always found persuasive. In Aeschylus we see an almost prophetic glimpse of such a ruler, stripped of some of the more odious mythological details, but not an abstraction either. Let us watch as his character unfolds.
Scene One: Clytaemestra and Chorus and First Stasimon
The chorus is overjoyed to learn from Clytaemestra that Troy has been taken, but pressing her for proof they are told of the light signals that had been set up. One can visualize the lights as being kindled by the flames of burning Troy. The queen shows her rhetorical, even magical skill in hoping that the Achaeans have been pious enough to refrain from attacking the shrines of the captured town (337 ff.) She knows that boys will be boys, but even if they do not offend the gods and reach home safely, "the suffering of the dead ones might become awake--oh may not fresh/unexpected evil occur!....May the good prevail." It is as if she has already been weaving the net in which she shall trap her husband.
The chorus sings the first stasimon, an ode to the justice of Zeus. Immoderate wealth and success breed the arrogance the leads to ruin. This is, in a nutshell, the Greek wisdom. "It has been said by some one that the gods deign not to be mindful of mortals who trample underfoot the grace of inviolable sanctities." This is meant to apply to Priam, but Agamemnon's conquest of Troy, soon to be reenacted by him in walking on the expensive textiles his wife spreads before him.
Paris was too clever, and in stealing Helen he only brought ruin to his city. A beautiful picture is drawn of Menelaus longing for his absent wife, whom he sees in dreams. This is converted into the longing that the soldier's families have for their return, but all that come back are urns filled with ashes. "For Ares barters the bodies of men for gold." What a line: It perfectly captures the horror of wars waged for loot and, worse, for "another man's wife." Here is our first hint that all may not be well at Argos, where the sons of Atreus are resented for this ruinous war. "It weighs heavy, the wrathful voice of citizens; it pays the people-ordained debt/office of a curse. Now they hint that Agamemnon may be like Priam, the mountaintop that is struck first by lighteninng. However, they conclude with a prayer for good fortune and good omens. "Whoever prays otherwise for this city, let him reap the sin of his mind, that is, if anyone is using duplicitous language to bring the city to harm, let him pay for his ill intentions. I do not think they consciously mean the queen, but the words apply to her.
Far be it for me to criticize Greek ideas, but the justice of Zeus seems a bit harsh. I understand the basic wisdom that if one violates the law of Zeus, one is bound pay for it in some way. It’s a good starting point. But I sense that there is more to Aeschylus’ Zeus than merciless revenge. The chorus seems to be wrestling with the suffering that war and justice require. I’m sure this is where liberal interpretations see that the old code of Zeus is archaic and should be replaced by the “progressive” laws of men. Again, this is where my Christian assumptions can’t help but enter my mind. What if Zeus is a god of justice and mercy? I have a feeling this work is more about getting to the truth about the nature of Zeus than about replacing him in favor of the ideas of men.
The experience of this play (for me) is similar to that of reading the Book of Job. I can’t quite grasp the full meaning and purpose but I know it is grappling with the ultimate questions. The mysterious relationship between suffering and wisdom also is a point of similarity. Job seems to resolve itself around faith. Though the Hebrew word for faith, “Emunah,” may be better translated in terms of trust, endurance and perseverance. I don’t know how Greeks would relate to this concept.
Around line 750 (Loeb) the chorus seems to take up the tension of fate and free will. I’m not sure I’m reading this correctly, but they seem to question the necessity of an inevitable doom once sin enters a household. They seem to reserve the possibility that a man may choose to be righteous and thus pass this righteousness on to his progeny. Perhaps the House of Atreus is not forced to continue its cycle of bloody vengeance.
“But old Arrogance is like to bring forth in evil men…at the fated hour of birth, a young Arrogance and that spirit irresistible, unconquerable, unholy, even Recklessness,--black Curses unto the household, and like are they to their parents.
“But Righteousness shineth in smoke-begrimed dwellings and holdeth in esteem him that is virtuous.”
I’m not sure what to say about Clytemnestra. Certainly, she is a few paces ahead of her husband. The Chorus is very suspicious of her intentions, as she makes a remark about how faithful she has been. They mutter, why would one raise the issue if one has nothing to hide?
Question: Perhaps this should be clear, but I don’t quite follow the story of the lion’s whelp. Who or what does this signify?
Where has everyone run off? This is not a good sign as we drift towards the inevitable black hole of the dreaded second page.
Fear not Josh.That black hole will not deter me.The play is just getting started.Fleming is enjoying himself writing Socratic dialogues at the moment.He shall return presently to Argos,and to scenes of murder.
We'll avoid the black hole by posting a part II, when it happens. Zeus is not so much a vindictive demon as a just god who makes the rules. When we break them, we destroy ourselves. The question is, where is the exit from the iron law of necessity? I'll take up the questions briefly in the next summary.
Scene Two: The Herald and Clytaemestra
The Herald enters at 503, thanking the gods for being able to die on his native soil and announcing the return of King Agamemnon. He is not a servant but a descendant of a noble family with this hereditary duty. A bit of verbal play, so dear to Aeschylus: While earlier it was Agamemnon who submitted to the yoke of necessity, here he is thrusting it upon the Trojans . Unfortunately, we have also learned that the Greeks have laid waste the shrines and temples. The sadness of war is well-conveyed in the greetings exchanged between Herald and Chorus. It is good to remember that Athens was at war with Persia in 499 (the Ionian Revolt) 490 (Marathon) and again from 480 down past the production of the trilogy. Like the Homeric heroes, the Athenians and their allies were attacking an Asiatic power that had violated divine principles of justice and like Agamemnon, Athens would proceed to imitate the injustice of her enemy.
Clytaemestra enters, with feigned joy--she will later compare the return of a husband to the coolness of a house in the heat of summer. Here she wraps him up in enigmas. He will return to find her as loyal as when he left her, unchanged. She leaves and the Chorus questions the Herald about the aftermath of the war. Menelaus has disappeared in storm that destroyed much of the fleet. The Herald would rather not mar the day with allusions to the Greeks' bad luck, but he is urged to tell the story of how the avenging Erinyes inflicted divine wrath on the impious Greeks. Typical of the trilogy is Aeschylus' paradoxical phrase, the paian of the Furies--a paian being a song of healing and triumph sung to Apollo. Remember this later, when Apollo and the Furies are opposed.