Justin Chen
English 129—Section 3
Professor Diana Paulin
10/10/99

Paper #2: Greek Drama

The central figure of Greek tragedy, according to Aristotle’s Poetics, is the so-called “tragic hero,” an individual “not eminently good or just, yet whose misfortune is wrought not by vice or depravity, but by some error or frailty (hamartia).” In several Greek tragedies, however, it is not some inherent character flaw that brings about the central figure’s downfall, but rather an unfortunate set of circumstances that offers little recourse other than immoral or illegal action. For example, in Sophocles’ Antigone, the title character carries out what she knows to be a morally upright course of action despite the king’s decree, whereas in Aeschylus’ The Eumenides, Orestes commits a seemingly morally pernicious murder in order to uphold Justice. Because both these characters’ misfortunes are products of their righteous actions, they assume a nobler role in the eyes of the audience. In each tragedy, however, there is a counterpoint character that serves to remind the reader of the inherent baseness of the crimes committed, despite their noble intent. Antigone’s Ismene, through her refusal to carry out her sister’s plans, reminds the reader of the terrible consequences of disobeying a royal edict, while The Eumenides’ Clytaemnestra continues to represent the side of the wronged mother long after her death. In both of these examples, seemingly minor characters challenge justifications for the tragic hero’s actions. In so doing, they serve to augment the nobility and courageousness of those actions.

In Sophocles’ Antigone, Creon forbids the honoring of Polyneices’ body despite the disrespect to the gods that this implies. Antigone justifies her disobeying of the law by declaring, “It was not Zeus that made the proclamation; / nor did Justice, which lives with those below, enact / such laws as that, for mankind.” (178, 494). Creon’s reasons for invoking such an edict are largely grounded in the idea that Polyneices, the brother who “died destroying the country the other defended” (181, 569), should “never…have precedence in honor over the just” (168, 226). In many ways, it could be argued, Creon is justified in his assertion. After all, as the king of Thebes, it is Creon’s duty to uphold the city’s safety and the welfare of its people above all other concerns. Creon himself states, “I think that a man supreme ruler of a whole city, / if he does not reach for the best counsel for her, / but through some fear, keeps his tongue under lock and key, / him I judge the worst of any” (167). A direct physical attack on the city, by a former resident no less, seems a prima facie example of an action that justifies a ruler in decreeing an extremely unforgiving punishment. Indeed, allowing Polyneices any sort of honorable burial would be tantamount to an unspoken pardon on Creon’s part, and would certainly be taken as a sign of weakness by his Theban enemies. Because of Antigone’s unique position in the play, however, the reader feels inherently compassionate and sympathetic toward her actions. Antigone assumes an attitude of resignation to Fate and compliance with the gods that parallels the attitude adopted by Cassandra shortly before her death in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon. For example, in response to Ismene’s cautionary advice, Antigone declares, “I shall be a criminal—but a religious one. / The time in which I must please those that are dead / is longer than I must please those of this world. / For there I shall lie forever. You, if you like, / can cast dishonor on what the gods have honored” (164, 84). Antigone’s sentiments are very much those of a martyr, and as such, the reader cannot help but feel sorry for her in her noble journey toward inevitable untimely death.

In addition, the attitudes of most of the other characters toward Antigone help strengthen the idea that she is engaging in the morally correct course of action. For instance, after Creon has condemned Antigone to die, the chorus laments, “Here was the light of hope stretched / over the last roots of Oedipus’ house, / and the bloody dust due to the gods below / has mowed it down—that and the folly of speech / and ruin’s enchantment of the mind” (185, 652). The chorus’ sentiments imply support of Antigone’s actions as the “light of hope,” and therefore imply opposition to Creon’s law. Another example of support for Antigone is Haemon’s cautionary statement to his father, in which he warns, “The city mourns for this girl; they think she is dying / most wrongly and most undeservedly / of all womenkind, for the most glorious acts.” He continues, this time perhaps expressing more his own thoughts, “Here is one who would not leave her brother unburied, / a brother who had fallen in bloody conflict… Surely what she merits / is golden honor, isn’t it?” (188, 747). Thus, virtually the entire city’s support is placed behind Antigone and her disobeying of Creon’s law.

The tremendous support voiced by the people of Thebes for Antigone has the effect of obscuring the danger inherent in her illegal actions. At a time when the king held enormous powers, disobeying a royal edict could easily mean death or exile. Ismene provides a primary example of the “normal Theban woman” fearful of Creon’s wrath, and also serves as the rational, law-abiding counterpoint to the rash Antigone. Upon hearing her sister’s plan to bury Polyneices, Ismene’s first reaction is one of despair; she laments, “Now there are only the two of us, left behind, / and see how miserable our end shall be / if in the teeth of law we shall transgress / against the sovereign’s decree and power. / You ought to realize we are only women, / not meant in nature to fight against men” (163, 70). Indeed, Ismene does not wish to dishonor her brother, as Antigone angrily accuses, but rather wishes to act in the most rational manner possible. She argues, “I will not put dishonor on [the dead], but / to act in defiance of the citizenry, / my nature does not give me means for that” (164).

Ismene serves not only as a foil to her sister’s actions, but in doing so, she also serves to augment Antigone’s character as a whole. By arguing so logically and convincingly from the perspective of an ordinary Theban woman, Ismene emphasizes how extraordinary Antigone’s actions are and how much courage is required to carry them out. Thus, Ismene’s challenging the justifications for Antigone’s flouting of the law in effect strengthen Antigone’s role as a tragic hero who, though beset by unfortunate circumstances, ultimately manages to make the moral decision.

Similarly, in Aeschylus’ The Eumenides, Orestes commits a heinous crime with the intent of serving the greater good. Indeed, almost from the very beginning of the play, Orestes’ murder of his mother is secondary to the fulfillment of justice that it engenders. The reader feels inherently compelled toward sympathy for Orestes because in committing an immoral action, he tries to avenge another, more immoral action. Thus, as is the case with Antigone, Orestes is a victim of his own circumstances. In following the path that he believes to be the most just, he necessarily must commits a terrible crime.

In fact, justification for Orestes’ actions come from many sources, the most striking of which is the god Apollo. Not only does Apollo gladly receive Orestes into his temple as a suppliant, he also accepts responsibility for the murder of Clytaemnestra by assuring him, “I persuaded you to take your mother’s life” (234, 87). Later, when the Furies verbally attack Apollo, he justifies the murder as a means by which Orestes could “avenge his father” (239, 201). Apollo’s support lends credence and a greater sense of nobility to Orestes’ cause, which in turn strengthens the audience’s sympathy toward him.

Despite the righteous nature of Orestes’s actions, however, the fact remains that a murder, especially of one’s own mother, was one of the most heinous crimes in Greek society of Aeschylus’ time. The Greeks placed great importance on their sense of honor, and filial respect and devotion to ones parents were certainly among the most fundamental means by which a Greek’s honor was upheld. Clytaemnestra’s ghost represents the role of the wronged mother in The Eumenides, and she seeks her own brand of revenge to the bitter end. She complains to the furies, “I go stripped of honor… alone among the dead… I was slaughtered by his matricidal hand. / See these gashes—“ (235, 99). Clytaemnestra’s ghost serves to remind the reader of the heinous nature of her death. Without her continued action, the case against Orestes tends to be swallowed up by the nobility of his cause. The fact that “the lots [were] equal” (265, 768) in the final trial of Orestes demonstrates that some compelling arguments against him are indeed raised in the play. Once again, by challenging the justifications for the tragic hero’s actions, a minor character highlights just how extraordinary those actions are in the face of societal conventions.

In both The Eumenides and Antigone, the tragic hero commits an immoral action due to circumstance rather than any sort of “tragic flaw.” Because these actions are actually just and moral in a greater, more universal sense, the reader feels a natural sympathy for the tragic heroes of each of the plays. Minor characters such as Ismene and Clytaemnestra’s ghost challenge the justifications for the tragic hero’s actions, and in so doing, increase the reader’s appreciation for the courage that those tragic heroes display.