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Showing posts with label Aeschylus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aeschylus. Show all posts

Monday, April 25, 2011

Prometheus Bound, 4

The Nymphs, feeling sorry for Io, lament the treachery of Zeus's romances.  Prometheus revels in his knowledge of Zeus's ultimate overthrow-- even growing bolder in his taunts, to the Nymphs' chagrin.

Hermes arrives, on a mission from Zeus, to ask the details of this overthrow.  Prometheus responds with his boldest sneers yet:

Oh, the pomposity, the superfine conceit
Of such a speech!  It fits an errandboy
Of gods so new in youth and rule they think
They live on heights too high for grief.
From these same heights-- ah!-- have I not seen
Two monarchs fall?  As now the third, this moment's king,
I shall see fall most shamefully and swift tomorrow...

Back-and-forth between Prometheus and Hermes: Hermes ridiculing Prometheus for his defiance, while Prometheus makes fun of Hermes for his devotion, and rages against his (and the other Olympians') betrayal of himself.  Continued refusal to tell Zeus what he needs to know, even through worse punishment.  Hermes promises that it's coming-- including storms, floods, and the eagle eating his liver-- and could only be stopped if some other god takes Prometheus's place.

Prometheus will not be moved-- in part because he know full well what is coming.  And so the howling wind rises...

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Defiance.  OK, so what does it actually mean?

If Prometheus in the play represents mankind, we have Aeschylus claiming an inherent dignity for man as opposed to subordination to the will of the gods.  They will be masters of their own fate.  After all, the Greeks, and especially the Athenians, just beat back an existential threat in the form of an invading foreign army.  (But wouldn't they have credited the gods with assisting them in the defense of their homeland?)

This is also starting to work out the contradictions inherent in the Greeks' conception of the gods-- as flawed, bumbling, petty Super-creatures that can't keep their own affairs in order.  Other than their power, what characteristics do the gods possess that make them worthy of worship?  And if men can demonstrate impressive power of their own-- or can start to resist and tame the external troubles attributed to the gods-- who needs 'em?  A period of unchecked success leads to a period of novel hubris and self-importance.  But it can't last forever.

It would be nice to be able to read the remainder of the trilogy.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Prometheus Bound, 3

Io arrives, in her form of a cow and followed, as always, by a stinging fly.  Another victim of Zeus (or the Olympians-- possibly Hera), she approaches Prometheus and asks where she is.  He tells her, and tells how he came to be shackled to the mountain.  Io asks how long she will be made to suffer, but Prometheus doesn't have the heart to tell her.

The Nymphs ask for her story, which Io tells.  In dreams, she was tempted to go to the bed of Zeus.  When her father Inachus learned the meaning of the dreams, he banished her from the house.  With nowhere else to turn, she went to Zeus.  After, she was transformed into the cow, and followed by the giant Argus.  Hera, though, killed Argus and replaced him with the wasp. 

Prometheus then tells her where her wanderings and sufferings will take her next.  She will go on a long, harrowing journey through faraway lands, rivers, and mountains.  Io cries out in distress, but Prometheus is just getting started.  And he tells her that her suffering is nothing compared to his own, which will only come to an end at the fall of Zeus.  He finally gives details, saying it will be at the hand of his own son, who will also be a descendant of Io.  Io starts asking too many questions, but Prometheus agrees to tell her the rest of her fate.  (To the Nymphs, he will reveal the remaining details of Zeus's overthrow and his own escape.)

Io will continue her journey across Asia, through lands of monsters-- including Gorgons and Griffins-- finally settling and founding a colony.  To prove that he knows of what he speaks, Prometheus accurately describes the journey that has brought her to him.  Going further, he predicts that Io will finally be restored by Zeus, and will bear a son, Epaphus.  Five generations later, a group of females will flee from their arranged marriages, and instead kill their betrothed-- all except one, who would choose "The lesser of two woes: Name of coward rather than of killer."  From her descendants would be born the man who will free Prometheus.

Io, stung again, departs.

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The world is a rough place.

Prometheus Bound, 2

Prometheus: "In the conflict between the Titans and the Olympians, I was trying to broker a peace.  Unsuccessful, I threw my lot in with Zeus.  Through my plans, he attained victory, casting the Titans into Tartarus.  But then Zeus became a despot.  Among other crimes, he planned to wipe away mankind in favor of a new race of creatures.  I wouldn't have it.  And for saving them, I am punished.  Yes, I gave them fire.  (I also gave them hope within their hearts.)"

Chorus encourages Prometheus that he will find escape, but he won't hear it, knowing his fate.  He also lashes out at the encouragement, saying it's easy enough for ones not under punishment to look on things optimistically.

Ocean arrives, telling Prometheus not to rail against Zeus so loudly, so not to bring an even worse punishment upon himself.  He also pledges to appeal to Zeus to let Prometheus go free.  Prometheus mocks the offer, then apologetically says instead that any appeal will be of no use.  He sees the punishment Zeus has set for Atlas.  He knows of the punishment Zeus laid for Typhon, now buried beneath Mount Aetna but destined to erupt one day.  Moreover, Prometheus wants to keep Ocean from bringing the punishment of Zeus on himself.  Ocean goes anyway.

The Chorus laments the current sufferings of mankind-- especially in the far-off lands of Asia.  Prometheus knows that whatever they suffer, this would be the natural state of man except for his own intercession.  P: "I taught them the astral calendar; math; written language; husbandry; sailing; medicine; dream interpretation; prophecy and pleasing sacrifice; and fire."

Chorus: "Surely if you are so powerful, you can escape this punishment."  P: "It is not only Zeus that maintains my punishment, but also the Fates-- and they are stronger than Zeus.  Even he cannot escape the fate that is coming to him."  Chorus: "What?"  P: "Forget I said that.  It's a secret I must keep throughout my ordeal."

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Prometheus Bound, 1

Might and Force escort Prometheus, with Hephaestus, to his place of punishment.  Hephaestus is reluctant to follow through with his task.  Might pushes him on, reminding him of his duty to execute Zeus's instructions, and appealing to his personal stake in the matter-- it was Hephaestus's fire that Prometheus gave to mankind.  Hephaestus does the deed sorrowfully, and departs.  Might gets in a little extra taunting-- over the irony of Prometheus being the "Man of Forethought," given his fate-- and departs.

Alone, Prometheus calls out to Earth [his great-grandmother, or something] for comfort.  He wonders what relief might come, but then resents that he indeed can see the full length of his fate in front of him.  A band of sea-nymphs [the Chorus] arrive, sent by Ocean [their father] to discuss the situation with him.  They rue the rise of Zeus over the Titans and his new style of rule over the heavens.  Prometheus says he would prefer isolation in Hades over being shackled in sight of the gods as he is.  But he also looks forward to the day when Zeus will come to him for assistance in thwarting the eventual plot against him.  Prometheus vows he will not help unless set free.  The nymphs ask for the tale that eventually led him here, and Prometheus begins to tell...

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Prometheus Bound (Aeschylus)

A late addition, when I decided to make a thorough survey of Greek drama before moving on to Plato.  I really liked the last Aeschylus I read, but this is a different translator (James Scully), so we'll see how it goes.

I got this copy from the Mount Prospect library, and it's due back in two days.

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Update 4/14: Well, the Scully translation literally read like something I'd write myself.  It reminded me of many of these blog posts, actually.  That's not what I'm going for, so I found a copy of the translation from my old pal Paul Roche (who, it turns out, was at Notre Dame for a time).  Got this on Interlibrary Loan from the Glenview Public Library.

Friday, March 25, 2011

The Eumenides, 3

Athena starts the trial, and Apollo enters for the defense.  The Furies question Orestes, and he admits killing his mother, but under the instructions of Apollo.  He claims justification also because Clytemnestra had killed Agamemnon without suffering from the gods for it.  The trial turns on the question of whether the closeness between son and mother makes the killing automatically a ghastly crime, regardless of circumstances.

Apollo argues to the jury.  He claims his instructions came from Zeus, in part because of the greatness of Agamemnon who was struck down.  He further claims that the child is closer to his father than his mother, who is merely a caretaker even during pregnancy.  As proof, he points to Athena, who was not born of a mother but sprung whole from Zeus.  As fathers are necessary, but mothers are contingent, the weight of the argument is in Orestes' favor.

Athena calls for the jury's verdict.  As the votes come in, trash-talking between the Furies and Apollo.  Athena announces her tie-breaking vote, and it indeed comes down to that: Orestes is acquitted.  Apollo exits, and Orestes praises Athena, pledging devotion to her and to her city of Athens for the remainder of his life.

The Furies are pissed.  Athena tries to calm them down, pointing out that they did well if the verdict came out tied, but they won't hear it.  Athena keeps at it, eventually promising a promotion for them into the keepers and apportioners of justice for the people of Athens [I think].  The Furies, now called the Eumenides, are overjoyed at their new station, and eventually parade out in peace.

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This was not how I expected this to end at all.  I was sure the verdict was going the other way.  And upon first reading, I couldn't follow the final conversation between Athena and the Furies.  But the second reading opened it up a bit.

First of all, Athena is heaping much praise on the people of Athens, and their traditions of doing justice to each other and to the gods.  It reads like a whole lot of flattery Aeschylus is heaping on his fellow-citizens.  Perhaps this is how the playwrights won the drama prizes?

But Athena is doing more here when she promotes the Furies.  She is allowing them to dole out punishment, but also to dole out positive justice.  That has been missing from the Furies actions throughout the play-- they chased Orestes to inflict divine retribution, and could not be satisfied until the task was finished.  But as it turns out, that is a very one-sided view of justice.  In fact, that may be the crux of the failure of justice through the entire trilogy.  Each character was seeking revenge, seeking to do violence as the only way to achieve satisfaction.  True justice requires the possibility of other kinds of responses.

Update, 20 minutes later:  Looked up some interpretations.  Nailed it.

Monday, March 21, 2011

The Eumenides, 2

Months later, Orestes enters the temple for Athena at the Acropolis.  He claims to have done penance, and is asking for final cleansing and exoneration from Athena.  The Furies follow him in, and have been dogging him ever since he left Apollo's.  They see him cornered, and are eager to get their final satisfaction.

Orestes makes his final plea, then falls silent.  The Furies tell him his just punishment has arrived, and await a response.  Not getting one, they gleefully sing and boast over their success.  They renew their argument for the justice of their cause, and the importance of the role they play.  They rue their position in the world, their ugliness and ostracization from both humans and gods, but are confident in their righteousness.

Athena arrives to hear the case.  The Furies make their accusation of matricide, and call it an open-and-shut case.  Athena insists on hearing the other side, for only by following proper procedures can justice truly be done.  Orestes makes his usual claims: he has already paid his penance (as witnessed by his now un-bloodstained clothes); he did the deed out of a sense of duty to his father (the great Agamemnon-- you remember him, right Athena?); and he was pressed by Apollo to do so.  Athena sees the merits of both sides, and so calls for a full trial.  Arraignment over.

The Furies are now in a panic over the possibility of losing their case, which they had thought was airtight.  They know it's not just about Orestes himself.  If he gets away with matricide, it opens the door to killings by any agrieved party, against any available victim-- all they'd need is a plausible excuse!  Moreover, if the fear of punishment is taken away, there is nothing holding back the savage nature of man.  But in the end, the Furies re-convince themselves of the strength of their case.  Surely any jury will see the long-lasting consequences of an innocent verdict, and the just punishment will indeed be discharged as they demand.

The Eumenides, 1

At Delphi, the Pythia (oracle) emerges to give her morning blessing.  She pays homage to the pantheon of gods, and especially to Apollo, to whom the temple is dedicated.  Turning to go inside the temple, she is horrified by the sight: a distraught man (Orestes) in blood-stained clothes; and in the corner, asleep, the hideous Furies.  But then she sees Apollo himself, and departs.

Apollo pledges his continued protection to Orestes, who is beseeching him under high anxiety over his fate.  He has been wandering, and chased by the Furies, since the murder of Clytemnestra.  Apollo assures him that he was only doing the express will of the god-- Apollo himself shoulders the murder.  They leave.

The ghost of Clytemnestra arises from Hades, where she's been having a hell of a bad time.  All there look down on her for her own act of murder, none give her sympathy for her son's.  She scolds the Furies for not devoting themselves to the job, and after all the sacrifices she has sent their way [also during her life?].  But she can't even awaken them, as hard as she screams...

Finally the Furies (now the Chorus) awake, and bemoan that they must continue their pursuit of Orestes.  They hate their job.  They can't get it done while he is under the protection of Apollo-- he, a performer of matricide!  But they are avowed to continue.

Apollo confronts the Furies face-to-face, with neither party backing down.  Apollo tries to kick them out of his temple, and makes fun of their grotesque appearance.  All claim righteousness for the part they play: the Furies, for chasing a matricide, blaming Apollo for allowing it to happen; Apollo, for instigating the murder as retribution for Clytemnestra's murder of her husband.  And how come the Furies aren't upset over that, if they chase down the murderers of family blood?  Argument over the familial status of spouses, Apollo claiming that a denial of such is an insult even to Zeus and Hera themselves, and to Aphrodite, and to all that is holy.  They mean to take this disagreement before Athena to be judged.

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We have here a huge problem of multiplied duties interfering with one another.  Is this a grand critique of the Greeks' religious system, or will it be resolved properly in the end?  It seems that the rigid system of duties performed out of honor can't help but lead to tighter and tighter contradictions, and even the gods cannot escape the illogic of it all.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

The Libation Bearers, 4

Aegisthus enters, not quite believing the news of Orestes' death.  The Chorus push him to meet the stranger and hear for himself.  He does, and is killed offstage.

A servant brings the news, and can't understand the Chorus's calmness in the face of calamity.  Clytemnestra appears, as Orestes comes back and declares his intentions.  She lays the guilt-trip on him, trying to preserve her life.  He won't hear it.  Besides killing Agamemnon, he resents her for sending him away to live with strangers as a child.  She protests, appeals to the Fate she had to follow, tells of her sorrow living while Agamemnon fought abroad.  It doesn't work.  Orestes takes Clytemnestra offstage.

The Chorus ruminates on Fate, and celebrates Justice done.  They see a completed cycle of violence, with the ultimate hero, Orestes, coming out on top. 

The deed done, Orestes comes back out, surveys the bodies, and carries his father's bloody mantle in which he was killed.  He sees Justice done.  Her rues his father's passing, lamenting his fate.  But thinking on it too long, he begins to weep, and starts to lose composure, the enormity of the act finally getting to him.  He declares himself an exile from the land, undeserving to live among the people after his deed.  The Chorus try to settle him, but he quickly gets worse.  Orestes sees the Furies in the room, coming for him.  He's losing control, the Chorus is panicking, the Furies approach, and he flees.

The Chorus is sorrowful again, struck by the apparently continuous curse upon this family.

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With all the character focused only on their narrow interests, all were blind to the overall injustice happening around them.  The ultimate lesson from this play is the insufficiency of the old modes of honor and justice.  "An eye for an eye" cannot prevail in the long run.

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Libation Bearers, 3

The Chorus tells of Clytemnestra's dream: that she gave birth to and nursed a serpent that kills her in the end.  Orestes is encouraged by the good omen, seeing success in his plan to kill her.  He hatches his plot: he'll gain entrance to the palace disguised as a traveling stranger.  Then he'll walk up to Aegisthus and kill him.  [Yes, it's really that simple.]

The Chorus contemplates the pattern of history, of women killing the men they're closest to and being killed in return.  Althea, who killed her son; Scylla, who killed her father; the women of Lemnos, who all killed their husbands.  And now the pattern looks to be repeated again.

Orestes, in disguise, enters the palace and is met by Clytemnestra.  He says he brings the message of the death of Orestes to his family.  Clytemnestra appears distraught, and goes to tell the household while the stranger is accommodated.  But the Chorus of women speaks to Orestes' old nurse Cilissa, who says Clytemnestra is secretly pleased, for the one threat against her power is no more.  The Chorus, barely able to contain their excitement, tell her to make sure Aegisthus comes to meet the stranger unarmed, but won't tell what's about to happen next.  Chorus, to themselves: "It's finally happening!  We're about to see the murder we've been waiting for.  Everything is gonna be awesome now!"

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Libation Bearers, 2

Orestes comes out of hiding and greets his sister, who disbelieves it his him at first.  But they embrace joyfully, Electra now glad she has someone with whom she can share her sorrows.  Their talk moves immediately to avenging their father's death.  On Orestes' part, it is for many reasons: divine justice, the duty of a son, to recapture the royal estate, that the fighters at Ilion might witness the glory they fought for, to cut down the coward Aegisthus.  But most prominently in his mind, it is to avoid the terrible underworld fate that awaits him if he doesn't avenge his father, if he avoids this task.

Orestes and Electra lament together, in alternating stanzas, while the Chorus speaks for Agamemnon from his place in the underworld.  They offer that it would be better if he'd died during the war-- at least his authority would pass to his children lawfully.  They look for divine guidance and aid in their response.  Agamemnon (or the Chorus) fill in information they do not know-- that his body was mutilated further by Clytemnestra before burial.  Orestes and Electra ask for a final blessing.

Suitably riled up, and confident in the righteousness of their course, they are avowed to act.  But suddenly confused, Orestes asks how it is the women have been sent by Clytemnestra to annoint the grave.  It seems she has been having nightmares...

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A really effective structure here, with Orestes and Electra reinforcing each other, their stanzas bouncing back and forth until they both think they've been convinced by the other.  I think the role of the Chorus is very ambiguous here.  It's entirely possible that they were actually speaking for themselves, and getting the children to do the evil deed they have no power to perform themselves (or are more than happy to shift the responsibility for onto others).

In the end, in some ways it is necessary that Orestes and Electra are deluding themselves.  Electra especially, not clearly seeing the evil deeds of her own father and how he may have deserved his fate.  And Orestes, searching widely for a pure justification for what he intends to do, but ultimately only getting part-way there.

The conversation also reflects what must have been the discussion between Clytemnestra and Aegisthus before the action of the previous play.  There, too, each had their own reasons for plotting the murder, and together they convinced each other of their righteousness-- only to perform a shocking act of evil that led to terrible consequences for themselves.  Bad move, kids.

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Libation Bearers, 1

Orestes, home again, attends his father's grave.  Leaves a lock of his own hair as a tribute.  Hears the women (taken from Troy) arriving with their own tribute, and hides to observe their ceremony.

Electra, Orestes' sister, leads them.  The Chorus speaks of the troubles in the palace since the murders-- and especially of a new prophecy, that the underworld is angered and awaiting Aegisthus' and Clytemnestra's demise. 

Electra struggles for words to speak at the grave.  Bring tidings from her mother?  Or bring promises of revenge against her mother?  The Chorus suggests she bring prayers for swift (and fair) revenge, but won't commit to joining her in such prayers. 

Finally, Electra comes out with it: she does seek payback against Aegisthus especially, and hopes for Orestes' swift return.  Leaving, she sees the hair and recognizes it as possibly Orestes'.  Footprints that match his as well.  Could it be?

Monday, March 07, 2011

The Agamemnon, 4

Agamememnon is killed.  The Chorus goes through every possible response in a dozen lines-- confusion, anger, timidity, vindictiveness, reckless bravery.  Finally determine to see for themselves what the situation actually is.

Clytemnestra stands over the body and admits the deed-- for Agamemnon's past sins.  Chorus threatens punishment and banishment, but she points out they did nothing to Agamemnon when he sacrificed his own daughter.  Claims the protection of Aegisthus, who abetted and murdered Cassandra at the same time.

Chorus breaks into internal discussion dealing with their shock and grief, but Clytemnestra keeps interrupting [in contrast to the previous Strophe-Antistrophe format].  Chorus first blames Helen once again.  C: Again?  You keep going back to that well.  Chorus blames the seeming curse on the royal house.  C: Getting closer.  But in that case, consider me the conduit of that curse, and especially the required vengeance for the killing of Iphigenia, and find me personally not guilty.  Chorus: "Never!  On the other hand, it was pretty horrifying what Atreus did, and the punishment seems to have landed on Agaememnon."  [Clytemnestra is winning.]  So how do we grieve?  C: Consider this a family matter.  Let Iphigenia greet her father appropriately.  [Ouch.]  Chorus asks, how can the murderer be put in charge of rectifying justice?  C: No, I've put an end to injustices in this house.

Aegisthus enters, surveys the scene, tells the whole tale of his father: Thyestes, brother of Atreus, banished from the kingdom.  Laid low, he returns to the palace, but is welcomed by Atreus serving him his own children at the meal.  A disgrace.  Aegisthus planned this whole murderous plot as an ultimate revenge.  The Chorus are outraged, but Aegisthus is claiming power and threatening punishment and slavery for any who dare rise against him.  Hot words rise, insults fly, and the room nearly breaks out in violence before Clytemnestra steps between them and orders an end to it.  She committed the murders to quell the violence once and for all.  More insults hurled, as the Chorus hopes for the return of Orestes.

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Good stuff.  I like the multiple motivations at play here: Clytemnestra avenging the murder of Iphigenia, Aegisthus avenging the horrible insult of his father at Atreus's hands.  Agamemnon had it coming from two ends.

The interesting thing is that Clytemnestra and Aegisthus seem to be acting unawares of the other's motivation.  Who was playing whom, here?  Aegisthus using Clytemnestra to actually do the deed, then claim power himself?  Or Clytemnestra coaxing Aegisthus into a conspiracy, thus shielding herself while she gets the revenge that has burned within her for ten years?  Probably both.

Furthermore, Clytemnestra seems to think this will be the end of the episode-- that she actually has managed to definitively shut down the cycle of violence.  Great naivete here.  In fact, the truce doesn't last more than an hour before the Chorus is planning an uprising, and plotting to aid Orestes upon his return.

Interesting subtext in the Chorus as well.  Aegisthus is claiming the crown, and threatens violence against the people.  At the moment, they're not having it.  They recognize an illegitimate leader when they see one, and only the threat of widespread violence and slavery holds them back.  That can't last forever.  (Of course.  That's why there's a trilogy.)

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Agamemnon, 3

Clytemnestra urges Cassandra to come into the palace for the (thankful) sacrifices to the gods.  But she shudders in silence and stays put.  The Chorus urges her to go, but in confusion over her state.  Clytemnestra leaves in frustration.

At this, Cassandra speaks, and cries out to Apollo over prophetic visions.  First recognizing the spilling of much blood in the palace-- past, present, and future.  Points the finger especially at a "wretched woman".  But she's babbling, and the Chorus can't keep up.  They're totally freaked out.  She sees Clytemnestra killing her husband.  She sees her own death, and rues her fate.  She sees the destruction brought on by Paris, her own home, and a similar home by the rivers in Hades.  She sees the original ancient familial murders in the palace, and those of Atreus, Agamemnon's father.

The Chorus asks for explanation.  Cassandra tells of her seduction by Apollo, then his curse when she wouldn't have his child: she will not be believed in her prophecies.

Now sees specifically the murdered children of Thyestes, murdered by his brother Atreus and then fed to their father.  She sees Aegisthus and Clytemnestra plotting Agamemnon's murder in his bed.  The Chorus recognize the old story of Thyestes and are amazed, but lost on the rest.  She specifically calls Agamemnon's death.  She sees Clytemnestra plotting against her, and throws off her wench's clothing in disgust.  She sees an ultimate avenger (Orestes) arriving to do in Clytemnestra.  She resigns herself to her fate, and moves to enter the palace.

The Chorus ask why the change, and admire her as an "undaunted soul".  She rebukes the compliment, saying it is only given to the doomed.  She recoils again from entering, predicting future deaths, and stating a final wish before her own death: that her slayers also be put to death.

The Chorus lament Agamemnon's imminent and untimely death, questioning the benefit of being born a king if it leads to such a fate.

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Once again, it's unclear to me how much of the story is already understood by the audience.  Cassandra speaks without naming names, as it were.  But I easily picked up on exactly whom she's talking about on every line-- and the footnotes weren't necessary most of the time.  Good to see the Chorus isn't entirely stupid-- they caught some of it as well.

Funny line that has gained a ridiculous new connotation:

(Clytemnestra speaking of Cassandra's reluctance to come in): Perhaps she only understands some outlandish twittering.

I really enjoyed Cassandra's scenes.  I was hoping to find a video of a really good version of a performance in English somewhere.  Instead, this is the best I found.  This is creepy as hell.





I don't understand theater at all.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Agamemnon, 2

A herald arrives first, ready to announce Agamemnon.  He is glad to be home, finally.  The Chorus greets him gladly, surprising him somewhat.  Given the chance, he complains of the drearyness of soldiering, wondering if the victory was worth the pain.

Clytemnestra enters, brags about being right about the bonfire signals' meaning.  Is happy over her husband's return, glad to tell him of her faithfulness while he was gone.  A little too eager to tell him that, actually.

Chorus asks of Menelaus.  Herald tells how they lost his ship on the journey home.  Chorus: So Helen claimed another great man.  Just as, through Paris, she claimed an entire great city.  She's like a lion cub raised by humans-- seductive, but suddenly turning on them and bringing utter destruction.  An argument-- does greatness bring an expectation of (unattainable) greatness, leading to downfall?  Or do sins like Pride lead to future wickedness that bring about downfall?

The Chorus welcomes Agamemnon, but worried that their enthusiasm will appear an act.  After all, they were quite dismayed when he slaughtered his daughter at the start of his mission.

Agamemnon tells of his triumph.  But he's concerned of the people's resentment behind their praise of his success.  Promises an open reign so they may build their city together.

Clytemnestra tells of her pain as she waited for her husband's return, hearing constant false reports of his demise.  She had to send away their son, Orestes, for his protection.  But that's all past, and now is a time for joy.  Lay out the purple carpet and tapestries for Agamemnon's entrance!

Back and forth.  A: Um, that's not necessary.  C: What's the problem?  A: I just don't feel like it.  C: Come on.  Do it for me.  This is what I prepared for you.

Agamemnon relents, stepping down from the carriage, and so revealing Cassandra.  A: Oh, yeah, her.  She came back with me.  Never mind.  On we go!  (But doesn't proceed.)

C: Let's go, honey.  All this royal carpet.  All for you.  You deserve it.  Move!  (He does.)

Chorus: That was weird.  Things aren't nearly as positive as we thought they'd be right now.

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Lots of false modesty on Agamemnon's part, and passive aggressiveness from Clytemnestra.  I'm digging it.

Since the audience already knows the story again, they must be grinning in anticipation for Clytemnestra's new husband.  I sure am.

My first reaction to seeing Cassandra's name in The Iliad is looking pretty silly by now.  She's everywhere.  I'm an idiot.

More direct criticism of the drudgery of war.  Biographical question: Is Aeschylus speaking with first-hand knowledge?  What war?

After lookup: In the 490 BC war against the Persians (led by Darius), Aeschylus fought in the battle at Marathon.  Also fought against Xerxes in 479 BC.  Awesome.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Agamemnon, 1

A watcher in Agamemnon's palace, weary of his assignment, finally sees the beacon telling of the fall of Troy.  He happily announces the news to Clytemnestra, Agamemnon's wife. 

The Chorus sets the stage: the siege has lasted ten years.  Driven by Zeus, or by Fate, the heroes fight.  Meanwhile, those left at home have grown old and weaker.  But why is Clytemnestra going through the city setting sacrifice fires now?

More scene-setting: As Agamemnon and Menelaus gathered their fleet, the prophet Calchas saw the terrible fate set for them.  Artemis would keep their ships in habor, until a terrible sacrifice was made that would unleash the remaining action.

A minor backhanded tribute to Zeus, the greatest, but third (after Ouranos and Cronos), head of gods, and quite silly in his own right. 

Calchas announces what needs be done to Agamemnon-- the sacrifice of his daughter, Iphigenia.  Agamemnon is agonized over this, but only momentarily.  He then does the deed with gusto, expecting honor from his soldiers (who give it).  Iphigenia sings and stares down the officers as the fatal blow is struck.

Back to action.  Clytemnestra announces the victory at Troy.  But how came the news?  She explains the courier of flame, the signal fires stretching all the way back to her own palace.  She ruminates on the scene in Ilion: weary victors, dragging themselves through a disgraced city.  But (slyly) worse is still to come.

Chorus again.  Zeus inspired Paris's lust, and his flight back to Ilion.  Such a woe this brought on his own people.  But such a woe also was felt by the Achaians, with many heroes dead, over Menelaus's wife!  Honor is of little consolation.  What joy can be felt living on in legend, if they're still dead?

------------------

Holy crap.

A good place to stop, because Agamemnon is about to enter (months, if not years, after this action).

Well, I'm certainly impressed by Aeschylus.  The subtext concerning fate, the honor of the gods, the critique of the heroic culture, comes so fast and furious, it's hard to keep up.  I read these pages twice just to make sure I was concentrating on it all, but I think I'll be good from here on out.

The biggest change from Homer, so far, is the acknowledgement of the terrible trials of war, and the questioning of whether any honor can be worth that price.

Also of note is the language.  This might be an issue of translation.  I'm finding Roche to be much more lyric and poetic than Lattimore-- but that might be a reflection of the advancement in poetic style from Homer to Aeschylus.  In any case, the play is much more personal and psychologically emotional than the action narrative of Homer.  That makes for a much denser reading (in a good way) than before.

Roche also does a good job of evoking what a stage production would look like.  I can imagine the two sides of the Chorus wailing over their ten-year struggle, with Clytemnestra watching and plotting in the background.

I really enjoyed the opening scene of the Watcher, too.  It's good to get an "everyman's" perspective on this, from a guy who clearly hates his job.  Cool.

Love the images of the bonfire signals.  Kudos to J.R.R. Tolkein for lifting it, and to Peter Jackson for filming it so well.

One passage that summarizes all tragedy, during the tribute to Zeus and his weakness as a god:
He leads us on the way of wisdom's
Everlasting law that truth
Is only learnt by suffering it.
Preach it.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Oresteia (Aeschylus)

I thought it important to read some Greek drama before getting to Plato's Republic, at least to have a feel for the Greek culture at the time or to catch any popular references.  I had a couple collections on the shelf-- probably from Freshman Seminar-- but decided to round it out a bit.  After some research, selections from Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes (in that order) would seem to cover it.

This particular copy I purchased at Half Price Books in Palatine-- on my first trip there in late 2010.  Nothing special about the translation, as far as I know.  I knew I had some Sophocles, and they had a matching pair of a different Sophocles and this Aeschylus, both translated by Paul Roche.

I honestly have no idea what to expect out of this.  It would seem that reading Homer was a good idea, though.  I already know who Orestes is!