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Oedipus Rex or Oedipus the King Study Guide
Oedipus Rex or Oedipus the King Study Guide
The Oedipus myth goes back as far as Homer and beyond, with sources varying about plot
details. The play that Sophocles presents is merely the end of a dramatically long story, and some
plot background must be provided to make the story understandable for modern audiences
(please see the section on ‘Oedipus and Myth’ for this full backstory). The real myth begins a
few generations before Oedipus was born. The city of Thebes was founded by a man named
Cadmus, who slew a dragon and was instructed to sow the dragon's teeth in order to give birth to
a city. From these teeth sprang a race of giants who were fully armed and angry; they fought
each other until only five were left, and these five became the fathers of Thebes.
Ancient Greek audiences would already know the background, and in fact the entirety, of the
Oedipus story. Therefore what makes this particular play so great is its ability to present this
material in an evocative and powerful manner, in order to nullify the reality that most of the
audience already knew its contents. Modern audiences might recognize the name Oedipus from
Sigmund Freud's famous "Oedipus Complex" - particularly his theory that young boys lust after
their mothers and see their fathers as competition for their mothers' favors. This theory springs
from Jocasta's comment that killing your father and marrying your mother are the kinds of things
men often dream of (981). Freud's theory has been hotly debated and, indeed, is currently
dismissed by most classical scholars – though the fact that the issue remains the subject of much
psychological debate is proof that the Oedipus story continues to be powerful even thousands of
years after the advent of Sophocles' play.
Creon enters, asking the people around him if it is true that Oedipus slanderously accused him.
The Chorus tries to mediate, but Oedipus appears and charges Creon with treason. Jocasta and
the Chorus beg Oedipus to be open-minded: Oedipus unwillingly relents and allows Creon to go.
Jocasta asks Oedipus why he is so upset and he tells her what Teiresias prophesied. Jocasta
comforts him by telling him that there is no truth in oracles or prophets, and she has proof. Long
ago an oracle told Laius that his own son would kill him, and as a result he and Jocasta gave their
infant son to a shepherd to leave out on a hillside to die with a pin through its ankles. Yet Laius
was killed by robbers, not by his own son, proof that the oracle was wrong. But something about
her story troubles Oedipus; she said that Laius was killed at a place where three roads meet, and
this reminds Oedipus of an incident from his past, when he killed a stranger at a place where
three roads met. He asks her to describe Laius, and her description matches his memory. Yet
Jocasta tells him that the only eyewitness to Laius's death, a herdsman, swore that five robbers
killed him. Oedipus summons this witness.
While they wait for the man to arrive, Jocasta asks Oedipus why he seems so troubled. Oedipus
tells her the story of his past. Once when he was young, a man he met told him that he was not
his father's son. He asked his parents about it, and they denied it. Still it troubled him, and he
eventually went to an oracle to determine his true lineage. The oracle then told him that he would
kill his father and marry his mother. This prophecy so frightened Oedipus that he left his
hometown and never returned. On his journey, he encountered a haughty man at a crossroads -
and killed the man after suffering an insult. Oedipus is afraid that the stranger he killed might
have been Laius. If this is the case, Oedipus will be forever banished both from Thebes (the
punishment he swore for the killer of Laius) and from Corinth, his hometown. If this eyewitness
will swear that robbers killed Laius, then Oedipus is exonerated. He prays for the witness to
deliver him from guilt and from banishment. Oedipus and Jocasta enter the palace to wait for
him.
Jocasta comes back out of the palace, on her way to the holy temples to pray for Oedipus. A
messenger arrives from Corinth with the news that Oedipus's father Polybus is dead. Overjoyed,
Jocasta sends for Oedipus, glad that she has even more proof in the uselessness of oracles.
Oedipus rejoices, but then states that he is still afraid of the rest of the oracle's prophecy: that he
will marry his mother. The messenger assures him that he need not fear approaching Corinth -
since Merope, his mother, is not really his mother, and moreover, Polybus wasn't his father
either. Stunned, Oedipus asks him how he came to know this. The messenger replies that years
ago a man gave a baby to him and he delivered this baby to the king and queen of Corinth - a
baby that would grow up to be Oedipus the King. The injury to Oedipus's ankles is a testament to
the truth of his tale, because the baby's feet had been pierced through the ankles. Oedipus asks
the messenger who gave the baby to him, and he replies that it was one of Laius's servants.
Oedipus sends his men out to find this servant. The messenger suggests that Jocasta should be
able to help identify the servant and help unveil the true story of Oedipus's birth. Suddenly
understanding the terrible truth, Jocasta begs Oedipus not to carry through with his investigation.
Oedipus replies that he swore to unravel this mystery, and he will follow through on his word.
Jocasta exits into the palace.
Oedipus again swears that he will figure out this secret, no matter how vile the answer is. The
Chorus senses that something bad is about to happen and join Jocasta's cry in begging the
mystery to be left unresolved. Oedipus's men lead in an old shepherd, who is afraid to answer
Oedipus's questions. But finally he tells Oedipus the truth. He did in fact give the messenger a
baby boy, and that baby boy was Laius's son - the same son that Jocasta and Laius left on a
hillside to die because of the oracle's prophecy.
Finally the truth is clear - devastated, Oedipus exits into the palace. A messenger reveals that he
grabbed a sword and searched for Jocasta with the intent to kill her. Upon entering her chamber,
however, he finds that she has hanged herself. He takes the gold brooches from her dress and
gouges his eyes out. He appears onstage again, blood streaming from his now blind eyes. He
cries out that he, who has seen and done such vile things, shall never see again. He begs the
Chorus to kill him. Creon enters, having heard the entire story, and begs Oedipus to come inside,
where he will not be seen. Oedipus begs him to let him leave the city, and Creon tells him that he
must consult Apollo first. Oedipus tells him that banishment was the punishment he declared for
Laius's killer, and Creon agrees with him. Before he leaves forever, however, Oedipus asks to
see his daughters and begs Creon to take care of them. Oedipus is then led away, while Creon
and the girls go back in the palace. The Chorus, alone, laments Oedipus' tragic fate and his
doomed lineage.
The King of Thebes was Laius, a descendant of Cadmus, and an oracle predicted, before the
birth of his son, that this son would one day be his father’s murderer. When born, Laius (and, in
some versions of the myth, Jocasta, Oedipus’ mother and Laius’ wife) gives the child to a
herdsman and orders him to take him out beyond the city and kill him. Out of pity for the child,
the herdsman gave the baby to another herdsman, tying his feet together and wounding them (in
some versions, Laius pierces Oedipus’ feet and exposes him to die, where the herdsman finds
him by chance). This herdsman took the baby to Polybus, King of Corinth, who adopted him as
his own son.
Oedipus, now fully grown, is told that he is not the son of Polybus, and seeks help from an
oracle, who tells him he is destined to kill his father and sleep with his mother. Oedipus –
presumably still thinking that Polybus is his father – flees from Corinth to Thebes in an attempt
to escape the fate the oracle has predicted for him. As he is travelling, he gets involved in a
dispute at a crossroads with a man in a chariot (Laius, his birth father) – and kills him.
As he approaches Thebes, Oedipus is approached by the Sphinx, who proposes her famous
riddle: ‘What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?’ – the
answer is man, who crawls, walks upright, and in his age, walks with a stick. The Sphinx, who
has been plaguing Thebes, is defeated – Oedipus has solved the riddle that no Athenian could
solve. In gratitude, the Thebans appoint Oedipus the king of Thebes (in Laius’ place) and reward
him with the dead king’s wife, Jocasta, his birth mother. Oedipus and Jocasta have four children:
two daughters (Electra and Ismene) and two sons (Polyneices and Eteocles).
At this point, Sophocles' play begins. Years later, a plague strikes Thebes, and Oedipus as King
promises to end it. He sends Creon, Jocasta’s brother, to the Delphic Oracle to seek guidance and
is told that the murderer of Laius must be found and either killed or exiled (depending, again, on
which version you read). As he begins to search for the killer, he encounters (or sends for)
Tiresias, who tells him that he is the killer of Laius and warns him that he will only be seeking
out himself. Oedipus ignores this advice.
A messenger arrives from Corinth giving Oedipus the news that Polybus is dead, and it seems
the oracle’s prophecy for Oedipus has failed to come true. The herdsman who delivered him to
Corinth then appears and informs Oedipus that he is an adopted baby. Jocasta, hearing this,
realizes what has happened and kills herself. Oedipus seeks out the herdsman initially ordered to
murder him as a baby, and learns that the infant raised by Polybus and Merope (his wife) was in
fact the son of Laius and Jocasta. He finally realizes that, at the crossroads, he killed his father,
and is married to his own mother. Notably in Sophocles' play, the Corinthian Messenger is also
the first herdsman: a small, but concise tweak.
Oedipus finds Jocasta dead, and blinds himself. He then (in Sophocles) leaves the city, and with
his daughter Antigone as his guide, wanders blindly through the country, dying finally at
Colonos. Some versions of the story have Oedipus commit suicide in Thebes, rather than leave
or be exiled.
Aristotle also outlined the characteristics of an ideal tragic hero. He must be "better than we are,"
a man who is superior to the average man in some way. In Oedipus's case, he is superior not only
because of social standing, but also because he is smart: he is the only person who could solve
the Sphinx's riddle. At the same time, a tragic hero must evoke both pity and fear, and Aristotle
claims that the best way to do this is if he is imperfect. A character with a mixture of good and
evil is more compelling that a character who is merely good. And Oedipus is far from perfect;
although a clever man, he is blind to the truth and stubbornly refuses to believe Teiresias's
warnings. Although he is a good father, he unwittingly fathered children in incest. A tragic hero
suffers because of his hamartia, a Greek word that is often mistakenly translated as "tragic flaw"
but really means "mistake". Oedipus' mistake - killing his father at the crossroads - is made
unknowingly. Indeed, for him, there is no way of escaping his fate.
The focus on fate reveals another aspect of a tragedy as outlined by Aristotle: dramatic irony.
Good tragedies are crammed with irony. The audience knows the outcome of the story already,
but the hero does not, making his actions seem painfully ignorant in the face of what is to come.
Whenever a character attempts to change fate, this is ironic to an audience who knows that the
tragic outcome of the story - as they know it in the myth - cannot be avoided.
For the Greeks, the word 'tragedy' was used much as we use the word 'play' - but it does not carry
the same implications of our modern word 'tragedy'.
In Athens, the performance of tragedies took place as part of festivals - the most famous being
the City Dionysia, a festival which worshipped the god Dionysos. Dionysos is the god of wine,
of revelry, of theatre, of frenzy and of ambiguity - a reading of Euripides Bacchae goes much of
the way to explain some of the logic behind his association with the Greek theatre.
The price of a ticket to the festival was distributed by the deme (the local town council) to each
citizen whose record was good, and the audience sat in the open-air theatre below the Akropolis,
divided into the same ten wedge-shaped sections that they sat in for public meetings. It is
extremely clear, therefore, that, in the words of Froma Zeitlin "theater attendance was thus
closely linked to citizenship". The Athenian festivals, as well as celebrating Dionysos, were
designed to celebrate Athenian democracy and the power of the polis.
The festivals sometimes lasted several days, and involved sacrifices, choral singing, the
performances of comedies and religious rites as well as the tragedy competition; and one of the
key things to understand about the importance of agon in Greek drama is that these tragedies
were written to compete against other tragedies. Budding playwrights submitted three tragedies
together (though not always – and, in most instances, rarely – thematically linked together) and a
satyr play, and three playwrights were chosen to have their trilogies and satyr play performed in
a competition. Ten judges, chosen by lots, would then vote for, respectively, the first, second and
third prizes.
The Greek theatre itself was famously built with a fan-shaped auditorium, in what is now called
an ‘amphitheatre’ layout. Modern examples of this layout include the Royal National Theater’s
Olivier auditorium, and a Greek theatre of this kind survives at Epidaurous (pictured). The stage
was likely circular, and the back wall of the stage was probably a permanent stone building, the
‘skene’, in which costumes and props could be stored, and which served variously as the internal
locations the play might require (houses, tents, etc.). The performances themselves would have
included little or no props, and probably very minimal costumes. The actors probably doubled
several roles between them (Sophocles famously used three actors for his plays) and
differentiated between them by switching masks.
Biography of Sophocles
As with all ancient writers, we can know little for certain about Sophocles' life: sources are few
and far between, and much of the information scholars have reached is the result of probability
and good guesswork rather than any biographical fact. Some of the sources directly contradict
each other.
Sophocles, usually considered the most accessible of the central triangle of Greek tragedians (the
other two being Euripides and Aeschylus), was probably born in or around 496 BC at Colonus,
near Athens, the setting of his Oedipus at Colonos (see, particularly, the Ode to Colonus in that
play at 668ff).
Sources tells us that Sophocles wrote 123 plays in his lifetime, of which we know the titles of
118. Of this huge output of plays (Shakespeare, in comparison, wrote somewhere between 36-39
plays in his lifetime) only seven survive: Antigone, Oedipus Rex (sometimes also called Oedipus
Tyrannos, Oedipus at Colonos, Ajax, Electra, The Women of Trachis, and Philoctetes. The tiny
size of this sample (around 6% of Sophocles’ total output) should be enough to discourage us
from making generalizations about Sophocles’ style or development as a writer.
All we know about Sophocles’ personality is from Aristophanes’ later play Frogs, which seems
to suggest that Sophocles was extremely good-natured and well-liked. Dionysus, in that play,
thinks Euripides a ‘scoundrel,’ likely to try and escape from hell, but Sophocles, because he was
good-natured on earth, is assumed to be good-natured in Hades.
His father, Sophillus, was not an aristocrat but rather a wealthy man, which meant that Sophocles
was given an excellent education. The first real glimpse of him in the sources reveal that he was
chosen after the defeat of the Persians to lead a boys’ choir in singing a paean around the trophy
of victory, and further accompany the proceedings on the harp.
Nothing more is known about Sophocles until he first appears as a tragic poet at one of the
Athenian Festivals (see About Greek Theatre) in 468 BC (indeed, we have clearer records for
these festivals than we do for Sophocles’ life story). He would then have been about twenty-eight
years of age, and was entering his first trilogy against the extremely well-renowned Aeschylus.
Supposedly, the excitement at this festival was so high that the ten generals, rather than a jury
drawn by lots, were asked to decide the winner. They chose Sophocles.
From that point forward, Sophocles seems to have entered tragedies in the competitions
something like once every two years, generally winning first prize. He won either eighteen or
twenty-four first places at the City Dionysia, and never placed lower than second – and won
several other prizes at the Lenaea. Oedipus Tyrannus, incidently, did not place first: the poet
Philocles, on this occasion, won the prize (though it is possible that Philocles was entering using
the tragedies of his uncle, Aeschylus, rather than ones he had himself written!). No full trilogy of
Sophocles’ survives: the so-called ‘Theban Plays’, of which Oedipus Tyrannus is one, is not
actually a full trilogy, and were not written in the order of their story, across Sophocles’ lifetime
(Antigone comes first, Oedipus Tyrannus in his old age, and Oedipus at Colonos is only
produced after Sophocles’ death).
Sophocles is famously supposed by Aristotle in the Poetics to have added the third speaking
actor to the Greek stage (probably sometime around 460: Aeschylus’ Oresteia [which requires
three actors] follows two years later in 458 BC. Sophocles also supposedly increased the chorus
size, even writing a treatise on the use of the chorus within the plays (which has not survived).
The bond between Greek theatre and Greek society is also evident in Sophocles’ career. He was
a senior administrator in the Athenian Empire, and elected to become one of the ten generals in
charge of the military. He is also credited with introducing the cult of the healing god Asclepius
into Athens: a result, perhaps, of the great plague that struck in the early years of the
Peloponnesian War.
For many years, a long tradition of criticism held Sophocles above both Aeschylus and
Euripides, hailing his work as the apex of Greek tragedy. This conclusion, it might be said, has
undergone considerable revision, and any such value judgment would today be shot down by
classical scholars. That said, Aristotle praised him above all other playwrights, using Oedipus the
King as a model for the perfect tragedy in his highly influential Poetics.
Sophocles continued to write and serve in government well into his eighties. He died in c.406
BC. And yet, despite leaving us only a small sample of seven complete plays, Sophocles still left
a legacy powerful enough to make him one of the founding fathers of Western drama.
Themes
Main Ideas Themes
Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in a literary work.
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Motifs
Main Ideas Motifs
Motifs are recurring structures, contrasts, and literary devices that can help to develop and
inform the text’s major themes.
Suicide
Almost every character who dies in the three Theban plays does so at his or her own hand (or
own will, as is the case in Oedipus at Colonus). Jocasta hangs herself in Oedipus the King and
Antigone hangs herself in Antigone. Eurydice and Haemon stab themselves at the end
of Antigone. Oedipus inflicts horrible violence on himself at the end of his first play, and
willingly goes to his own mysterious death at the end of his second. Polynices and Eteocles die
in battle with one another, and it could be argued that Polynices’ death at least is self-inflicted in
that he has heard his father’s curse and knows that his cause is doomed. Incest motivates or
indirectly brings about all of the deaths in these plays.
Sight and Blindness
References to eyesight and vision, both literal and metaphorical, are very frequent in all three of
the Theban plays. Quite often, the image of clear vision is used as a metaphor for knowledge and
insight. In fact, this metaphor is so much a part of the Greek way of thinking that it is almost not
a metaphor at all, just as in modern English: to say “I see the truth” or “I see the way things are”
is a perfectly ordinary use of language. However, the references to eyesight and insight in these
plays form a meaningful pattern in combination with the references to literal and metaphorical
blindness. Oedipus is famed for his clear-sightedness and quick comprehension, but he discovers
that he has been blind to the truth for many years, and then he blinds himself so as not to have to
look on his own children/siblings. Creon is prone to a similar blindness to the truth
in Antigone. Though blind, the aging Oedipus finally acquires a limited prophetic vision. Tiresias
is blind, yet he sees farther than others. Overall, the plays seem to say that human beings can
demonstrate remarkable powers of intellectual penetration and insight, and that they have a great
capacity for knowledge, but that even the smartest human being is liable to error, that the human
capability for knowledge is ultimately quite limited and unreliable.
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Symbols are objects, characters, figures, and colors used to represent abstract ideas or concepts.
Main Ideas
Key Facts
Main Ideas Key Facts
Context
Further Study Context
Greek Theater
Greek theater was very different from what we call theater today. It was, first of all, part of a
religious festival. To attend a performance of one of these plays was an act of worship, not
entertainment or intellectual pastime. But it is difficult for us to even begin to understand this
aspect of the Greek theater, because the religion in question was very different from modern
religions. The god celebrated by the performances of these plays was Dionysus, a deity who
lived in the wild and was known for his subversive revelry. The worship of Dionysus was
associated with an ecstasy that bordered on madness. Dionysus, whose cult was that of
drunkenness and sexuality, little resembles modern images of God.
A second way in which Greek theater was different from modern theater is in its cultural
centrality: every citizen attended these plays. Greek plays were put on at annual festivals (at the
beginning of spring, the season of Dionysus), often for as many as 15,000 spectators at once.
They dazzled viewers with their special effects, singing, and dancing, as well as with their
beautiful language. At the end of each year’s festivals, judges would vote to decide which
playwright’s play was the best.
In these competitions, Sophocles was king. It is thought that he won the first prize at the
Athenian festival eighteen times. Far from being a tortured artist working at the fringes of
society, Sophocles was among the most popular and well-respected men of his day. Like most
good Athenians, Sophocles was involved with the political and military affairs of Athenian
democracy. He did stints as a city treasurer and as a naval officer, and throughout his life he was
a close friend of the foremost statesman of the day, Pericles. At the same time, Sophocles wrote
prolifically. He is believed to have authored 123 plays, only seven of which have survived.
Sophocles lived a long life, but not long enough to witness the downfall of his Athens. Toward
the end of his life, Athens became entangled in a war with other city-states jealous of its
prosperity and power, a war that would end the glorious century during which Sophocles lived.
This political fall also marked an artistic fall, for the unique art of Greek theater began to fade
and eventually died. Since then, we have had nothing like it. Nonetheless, we still try to read it,
and we often misunderstand it by thinking of it in terms of the categories and assumptions of our
own arts. Greek theater still needs to be read, but we must not forget that, because it is so alien to
us, reading these plays calls not only for analysis, but also for imagination.
Antigone
Antigone was probably the first of the three Theban plays that Sophocles wrote, although the
events dramatized in it happen last. Antigone is one of the first heroines in literature, a woman
who fights against a male power structure, exhibiting greater bravery than any of the men who
scorn her. Antigone is not only a feminist play but a radical one as well, making rebellion against
authority appear splendid and noble. If we think of Antigone as something merely ancient, we
make the same error as the Nazi censors who allowed Jean Anouilh’s adaptation of Antigone to
be performed, mistaking one of the most powerful texts of the French Resistance for something
harmlessly academic.
Oedipus the King
The story of Oedipus was well known to Sophocles’ audience. Oedipus arrives at Thebes a
stranger and finds the town under the curse of the Sphinx, who will not free the city unless her
riddle is answered. Oedipus solves the riddle and, since the king has recently been murdered,
becomes the king and marries the queen. In time, he comes to learn that he is actually a Theban,
the king’s son, cast out of Thebes as a baby. He has killed his father and married his mother.
Horrified, he blinds himself and leaves Thebes forever.
The story was not invented by Sophocles. Quite the opposite: the play’s most powerful effects
often depend on the fact that the audience already knows the story. Since the first performance
of Oedipus Rex, the story has fascinated critics just as it fascinated Sophocles. Aristotle used this
play and its plot as the supreme example of tragedy. Sigmund Freud famously based his theory
of the “Oedipal Complex” on this story, claiming that every boy has a latent desire to kill his
father and sleep with his mother. The story of Oedipus has given birth to innumerable fascinating
variations, but we should not forget that this play is one of the variations, not the original story
itself.
Oedipus at Colonus
Beginning with the arrival of Oedipus in Colonus after years of wandering, Oedipus at
Colonus ends with Antigone setting off toward her own fate in Thebes. In and of itself, Oedipus
at Colonus is not a tragedy; it hardly even has a plot in the normal sense of the word. Thought to
have been written toward the end of Sophocles’ life and the conclusion of the Golden Age of
Athens, Oedipus at Colonus, the last of the Oedipus plays, is a quiet and religious play, one that
does not attempt the dramatic fireworks of the others. Written after Antigone, the play for which
it might be seen as a kind of prequel, Oedipus at Colonus seems not to look forward to the
suffering that envelops that play but back upon it, as though it has already been surmounted.
Are people truly responsible for their actions? This question has puzzled humanity throughout
history. Over the centuries, people have pondered the influence of divine or diabolical power,
environment, genetics, even entertainment, as determining how free any individual is in making
moral choices.
The ancient Greeks acknowledged the role of Fate as a reality outside the individual that shaped
and determined human life. In modern times, the concept of Fate has developed the misty halo of
romantic destiny, but for the ancient Greeks, Fate represented a terrifying, unstoppable force.
Fate was the will of the gods — an unopposable reality ritually revealed by the oracle at Delphi,
who spoke for Apollo himself in mysterious pronouncements. The promise of prophecy drew
many, but these messages usually offered the questioner incomplete, maddenly evasive answers
that both illuminated and darkened life's path. One famous revelation at Delphi offered a general
the tantalizing prophesy that a great victory would be won if he advanced on his enemy. The
oracle, however, did not specify to whom the victory would go.
By the fifth century, B.C., Athenians frankly questioned the power of the oracle to convey the
will of the gods. Philosophers such as Socrates opened rational debate on the nature of moral
choices and the role of the gods in human affairs. Slowly, the belief in a human being's ability to
reason and to choose gained greater acceptance in a culture long devoted to the rituals of augury
and prophecy. Socrates helped to create the Golden Age with his philosophical questioning, but
Athens still insisted on the proprieties of tradition surrounding the gods and Fate, and the city
condemned the philosopher to death for impiety.
Judging from his plays, Sophocles took a conservative view on augury and prophecy; the oracles
in the Oedipus Trilogy speak truly — although obliquely — as an unassailable authority. Indeed,
this voice of the gods — the expression of their divine will — represents a powerful, unseen
force throughout the Oedipus Trilogy.
Yet this power of Fate raises a question about the drama itself. If everything is determined
beforehand, and no human effort can change the course of life, then what point is there in
watching — or writing — a tragedy?
According to Aristotle, theater offers its audience the experience of pity and terror produced by
the story of the hero brought low by a power greater than himself. In consequence, this catharsis
— a purging of high emotion — brings the spectator closer to a sympathetic understanding of
life in all its complexity. As the chorus at the conclusion of Antigone attests, the blows of Fate
can gain us wisdom.
In Greek tragedy, the concept of character — the portrayal of those assailed by the blows of Fate
— differs specifically from modern expectations. Audiences today expect character exploration
and development as an essential part of a play or a film. But Aristotle declared that there could
be tragedy without character — although not without action.
The masks worn by actors in Greek drama give evidence of this distinction. In Oedipus the King,
the actor playing Oedipus wore a mask showing him simply as a king, while in Oedipus at
Colonus, Oedipus appears in the mask of an old man. As Sophocles saw him — and as actors
portrayed him — Oedipus displayed no personality or individuality beyond his role in the
legend. The point of the drama, then, was not to uncover Oedipus' personal motivations but to
describe the arc of his fall, so as to witness the power of Fate.
In his plays, Shakespeare also created tragedy that revolved around a heroic character who falls
from greatness. But Shakespeare's heroes appear fully characterized and their tragedies develop
as much from their own conscious intentions as from Fate. Macbeth, for example, pursues his
goal of the throne ruthlessly, with murderous ambition. When the witches' prophecies, upon
which he has based his hopes, turn out to be just as misleading as any oracle's pronouncement at
Delphi, the audience is more likely to blame Macbeth for his heartless ambition than to bemoan
his fate with him.
In contrast, Sophocles' hero — even with his tragic flaw (as Aristotle terms it) — maintains the
audience's sympathy throughout the drama. The flaw of his character represents less a vicious
fault and more a vulnerability, or a blind spot. Oedipus' brilliance, then, is matched by his
overconfidence and rashness — a habit of mind that makes him prey to the very fate he wishes to
avoid.
Significantly, Oedipus' desperate attempt to escape Fate arises not from ambition or pride, but
from an understandable and pious desire to live without committing heinous offenses. Prudently,
he decides never to return to the kingdom where the people he believes to be his parents rule. But
when an overbearing man on the road nearly runs him down and then cuffs him savagely,
Oedipus rashly kills his attacker, who turns out be his father. So, just as he thinks himself free of
his fate, Oedipus runs right into it — literally, at a crossroads.
In Oedipus the King, Oedipus displays his characteristic brilliance and overconfidence in what he
regards as his heroic search for the murderer of Laius. He pursues the mystery relentlessly,
confident that its solution will yield him the same glory he enjoyed when he answered the riddle
of the Sphinx. Oedipus' self-assurance that he has taken care of his fate blinds him to it and
begins the fall that will end in his literal blindness. Thus he becomes the victim — rather than the
conquerer — of Fate.
In Antigone, Creon also displays a blind spot. Wrapped up in the trappings of power, Creon puts
his responsibility for Thebes above the laws of the gods and has to be reminded of the gods' will
by Tiresias. Creon's last-minute attempt to conform to the gods' wishes only reveals to him his
own inescapable fate — the destruction of his family and the end of his rule.
Antigone herself is painfully aware of the power of Fate, attributing all the tragedy in her family
to the will of Zeus. When she acts decisively, choosing to obey the laws of the gods rather than
the laws of the state, she seems almost like a modern heroine — a model of individual courage
and responsibility. Yet, before her death, Antigone shrinks in horror, acknowledging that she has
acted only within the rigid constraints of Fate; indeed, in that moment, her earnestness and
conviction fade as she feels the approach of her own doom. Antigone, like the rest of her family,
must yield to Fate — the curse that hangs over the house of Oedipus.
Oedipus at Colonus features prolonged debate and protestations over Fate, before granting a
unique blessing to the suffering hero. By the time of the story, a sullen Oedipus has grown used
to his role as the pariah, the greatest sinner in the world. Still, he argues to the chorus that he did
not consciously or willfully commit any crimes. At this point — the end of his life — Oedipus
concedes the power of Fate as the reason for his destruction; at the same time, he embraces Fate
in his death and fights vigorously to meet his end as the gods promised — at peace and as a
benefit to the city where he is buried. Ironically, then, the victim of Fate becomes part of the
force that has tortured him; his will to reward and to punish becomes as powerful as the will of
the gods themselves.
In Oedipus at Colonus — Sophocles' last play — the dramatist seems intent on making a peace
between the power of Fate and his willful, all too human hero. The chants of the chorus, as well
as the formal, poetic speeches of the characters, suggest that Oedipus' heroic suffering results in
a profound transformation into godlike glory. As tragic and terrible as the story of the Oedipus
Trilogy is, then, Sophocles grants his audience the hope that the blows of Fate lead not only to
wisdom, but to transcendence.
In the great amphitheater of Athens, curious tourists can see an inscription on each of the marble
seats of honor near the stage: Reserved for the priest of Dionysus. The carved letters, still
readable after 2,500 years, attest to the religious significance of the theater in the culture of
ancient Greece.
For the Greeks of the fifth century B.C., the theater represented a sacramental place, where the
actors and audience joined together to worship. The drama — whatever its subject — was an
offering to the gods, a ritual that might bring blessing to the city.
The stage itself, actually a dancing area in the style of a threshing floor, recalled the most ancient
forms of communal worship. At harvest, people traditionally celebrated the culmination of the
growing season by worshipping the god of vegetation in wild, frenzied dances. At the Festival of
Dionysus, the stage became a more sophisticated platform for a similar experience — the
masked actors' loss of self in music and art for the creation of an emotional closeness with divine
power. And the chorus, while chanting their poetry, maintained the simplicity of the older
tradition in their obligatory dancing.
Sophocles underscores the connections between drama and the traditions of the fertility god
in Oedipus the King. Evidence of the trouble in Thebes emerges as a plague, a blight on the land
that ruins crops and causes women to miscarry. The close association of human and vegetative
fertility — and the connection of both to the capability of the king — represents one of the
earliest forms of religious belief. In Sophocles' time, the mysterious but vital union of humans
and nature still informed the culture. Accordingly, Oedipus' immorality — however unconscious
— pollutes the land, and only his removal and punishment will bring back life to Thebes. In this
context, Sophocles offers a ritual of death and rebirth, as well as a formal tragedy in Oedipus the
King.
In Oedipus at Colonus and Antigone, Sophocles refers to a particular ritual that inspired and
uplifted many of his contemporaries, the Eleusian Mysteries, a rite that offered its initiates the
assurance of eternal life. In Antigone, when Creon decides to honor the gods' laws by burying
Polynices and freeing Antigone, the chorus rejoices with a triumphal paean (joyful song) to
Dionysus, calling him "King of the Mysteries!" (1243). The evocation of the god and the
mention of the rites at Eleusis underscore Antigone's premature burial and the expected joy of
her return to life, the promise offered to the initiates of the Mysteries themselves.
The references to the Mysteries in Oedipus at Colonus that extend throughout the drama in the
chanted odes of the chorus prepare for the conclusion of the play and the end of Oedipus' life.
The poetic allusions to the narcissus, the sacred flower associated with the Mysteries, and the
mention of the "awesome rites" (1199) of Eleusis keep before the audience the hope of life after
death. At the end of the tragedy, when Theseus witnesses the passing of Oedipus, a messenger
delivers a description of the hero's last moments that seems more a mystical transcendence than
the death of an old man. The promise of Eleusis, the audience can infer, has been made real in
the passing of Oedipus into eternal life.
Of the Eleusian Mysteries itself, modern readers know very little since those who celebrated
were sworn to secrecy. But the ritual represented a powerful, transforming experience for many,
including the great Roman orator and philosopher, Marcus Tullius Cicero (104-43 B.C.), who
praised the Eleusian Mysteries as the source of civilization itself.
The Mysteries recreated in imagination the search of the goddess Demeter for her daughter
Persephone (also called Kore), and so demanded a form of personal identification with a divine
figure, culminating in an intense religious (and dramatic) experience. The rite began with a
procession from Athens to Eleusis, where initiates fasted, sacrificed offerings, and drank a
special potion made from barley. At some later time, the initiates were blindfolded and led in
darkness to an underground cave where — in some unknown manner — they experienced a kind
of death, terrifying beyond words.
Afterwards, standing together in the darkness of an underground chamber, the initiates saw a
vision of Kore herself, rising glorious from the depths of the underworld. As fires illuminated the
chamber, the ritual celebrant held up a single stalk of wheat, proof of the gods' blessings and the
regeneration of life. The initiates rejoiced ecstatically, purged of fear, and confident, as they
attested, that eternal life was theirs.
Sophocles himself, in a fragment from Triptolemus, wrote of the blessings of life after death
granted to those who had experienced the transforming dread and glory of the Eleusian
Mysteries. And in his plays, as Aristotle explains, Sophocles proved to be a master in evoking
the pity and terror and producing the emotional catharsis that defines tragedy. Like the Eleusian
Mysteries, Sophocles' tragedies create a powerful emotional — even religious — experience:
The terror of a heroic self crumbling under the blows of Fate, followed by the purging of fear
and the coming of wisdom.
Sophocles' continued references to the Eleusian Mysteries indicate his high regard for their
power. It may be that in his drama, Sophocles was striving to capture a comparable intense
experience of dread relieved by hope and wisdom in an open, public context. For the original
audience and centuries of readers, the experience of the tragedies of the Oedipus Trilogy, like a
mystical ritual, gives a new birth to the human spirit and, perhaps, makes possible civilization
itself.