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Prometeus Bound / The Suppliants / Seven Against Thebes / The Persians

Aeschylus
Translated by Philip Vellacot

463-472 B.C. London: Penguin Books, 1961. ISBN: 0-14-044112-3. Pp. 160

Review © 2003 Branislav L. Slantchev

This slender book collects four of the seven extant plays by the first and perhaps most revered Greek tragedian. Only a basic introduction is supplied that mentions dating issues along with a brief background synopsis. The end notes are also bare-bones. All this is perhaps made up by the quality of the translation which really makes the speeches appear straightforward and in no need for additional explanatory material.

As the introduction mentions, Aeschulys wrote a lot of plays, the most famous (for us) of which is the Oresteia trilogy. The first three plays included in this tome seem to have formed parts of trilogies themselves and, somewhat contrary to frequent assertions, do not deal with the same (or even similar topics).

Prometheus Bound deals with hubris. The Titan is supposed to be the sympathetic figure, having saved mankind from destruction by Zeus (who had planned to wipe out the failed experiment and create a new and better race of men), having stolen fire from the gods and given it to man, and having taught people arts and crafts, Prometheus is chained to a rock and tormented by an eagle. All the more pitiful he is and all the more unreasonably vengeful Zeus seems considering that this Titan also helped the Olympians topple Kronos and assume the leadership among the supernatural beings. The play deals with the act of chaining, and then has Prometheus tell a bit of his story to Io (see next play), foretell the fall of Zeus, and get visited by Hermes who tries to extort some information from him but fails.

Prometheus should have been the sympathetic figure but he is not. There is a remarkable discrepancy between what he claims he's being punished for, and what everyone else seems to think. He mentions his great services to mankind, but the gods seem to be mostly angry at him for stealing the fire; they don't seem to care one way or another about the mortals. In fact, Prometheus is so enthralled with himself that this pride is making him a dangerous ally for Zeus. His defiance is threatening the new order of the Olympians, he is a relic of the old world. No wonder he runs afoul of the new masters and has to be chastized regardless of the value of his services. The gods never seem to have cared much for being "nice" anyway.

The Suppliants illustrates a favored motiff in Greek tragedy: the cycles of violence. It is the opening act of a rather sordid story about the descendants of that unfortunate mortal Io, whom Zeus loved so much that the jealous Hera found it necessary to inflict countless evils on the poor woman, including, but not limited to, sending an insect to sting her mad in her form as a cow. The exile finally went to Egypt, where she gave birth to a new race. In the third generation, the fifty sons of Aegyptus fancied their fifty nieces and contrived to obtain them by force, which caused the Danaids (daughters of Danaus) to flee to Argos, the birthplace of Io. In The Suppliants, they have arrived and plead with the Argive king Pelasgus to protect them, to which he agrees although not without hesitation and putting the matter to a popular vote by the city assembly. The Egyptians arrive, demand the women, and, failing to get them, declare war on the Argives.

This is the initial violence, which will breed further bloodshed and even more violence in the next play (now lost) where the Egyptians defeat the Argives and marry their cousins only to be murdered by them on the wedding night. All, that is, except for one, who spares her husband out of love. This is a common theme in Aeschylus: initial violence causes the previously blameless and innocent to respond by transgressing in violence themselves until there is no one left who can hope to claim any freedom of guilt. Only with reason and compromise can the cycle be broken, but (as shown in the next play) this does not always happen and the fates see the extermination of all participants.

Seven Against Thebes illustrates the workings of a family curse until its vengeful completion in the destruction of all descendants. Eteocles, the king of Thebes, is facing an army led by his brother Polyneices who has come to seek retribution for his banishment. The curse in question is laid on them by their own father Oedipus who (one should recall) had a lot of problems himself during his life but could not bear being ill-treated by his two sons, although given the fact that their mother was Oedipus' own mother, one should not be too surprised. The play is simply about the final onslaught on Thebes, in which Polyneices sends six champions against each of the six gates, and himself takes the task of attacking the seventh. Eteocles dispatches Theban heroes to confront these and takes on his brother himself despite the dire warnings of the Chorus. The two brothers slay each other, the city is saved, but the curse is fulfilled.

Although one may see the motiff of violence again, the play is really more about resignation, fatallistic acceptance of fate, and simultaneous defiance that is so well-known to the Greeks (one should only recall Achilles and his slaying of Hector). While five of the six enemies are full of pride and boastful --- thereby ensuring their defeat because hubris never goes unpunished --- and the six, though pious is guilty by association, Eteocles' decision to face his own brother is abhorrent because it violates the norms against shedding kinship blood. The king is reminded of the curse and is duly warned, but he proceeds to his own doom and destruction, fully convinced that there is no escaping this fate. The same king who had just chided the Chorus of women for wailing too much and sowing fear in the hearts of the city defenders, the same king who resolutely sent his heroes to face mortal danger, the same king who was sure of the salvation of his land, could not bring himself to believe that there is hope for him as an individual.

The Persians is the odd one out here as it deals with a real historical event --- the aftermath of the Battle of Salamis --- which Aeschylus witnessed himself. There is no action to speak of, the play opens with a permonition by Xerxes' mother whose fears are allayed by an optimistic Chorus of elders. But soon thereafter a messenger arrives with the dreadful news of the annihilation of the Persian army at the hands of the Greeks. The ghost of Darius raises from the grave to lament the waste and Xerxes finally arrives amid great cries. The play is little more than glorification of a truly remarkable achievement: the tiny Greek states, mostly Athens, who managed to repulse a mighty invading force in a lengendary naval battle. Aeschylus, being Athenian, only barely mentions the Battle of Platea (won mostly by the Spartans) that sealed the fate of that invasion. The tragedian is also careful to make out the victory as one of democracy against tyranny (a back-handed stab at the non-democratic Spartants). This play has a superb and very dramatic description of the Battle of Salamis and its deadly resolution.

Choice Quotes

November 6, 2003