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Prometheus dared, and suffered for it, and therefore his story speaks to every single person who has dared and suffered. The Athenian playwright Aeschylus told well the story of Prometheus’ transgression and torment back around 430 B.C.; and as this Penguin Books edition of four of Aeschylus’ plays demonstrates, the same themes that predominate in Prometheus Bound can also be found in other Aeschylean plays such as The Seven Against Thebes, The Suppliants, and The Persians.
Prometheus Bound starts off on a grim note, and only gets grimmer from there. As the play begins, the Titan Prometheus, who has defied the will of Zeus by stealing fire from heaven and giving it to humankind, is being bound to a rocky mountaintop near the sea. A sympathetically depicted Hephaestus, god of the forge, is notably reluctant to chain Prometheus to the mountain – “how can I/Find heart to lay hands on a god of my own race,/And cruelly clamp him to this bitter, bleak ravine?” (pp. 20-21) – but feels that he cannot defy the will of Zeus.
Bound to his rock, knowing that he will be condemned to unending torture, Prometheus states that his reason for giving fire to humans was not simply to raise them from the level of the other animals. Rather, he says that Zeus “Of wretched humans…took no account, resolved/To annihilate them and create another race”, and claims that “This purpose there was no one to oppose but I:/I dared. I saved the human race from being ground/To dust, from total death” (p. 27). Some modern readers might see a parallel between Prometheus’ story and the Biblical account of Christ’s enduring the torments of the Crucifixion in order to save humankind from being lost to sin. Others, who have seen Ridley Scott’s science-fiction film Prometheus (2012), will no doubt recall the revealing words of the android David: “Sometimes, to create, one must first destroy.”
Yet Prometheus holds a sort of trump card; he knows the identity of the woman who is fated to bear a son greater than his father – whose offspring could, theoretically, dethrone Zeus himself, if Zeus pursues a liaison with her. A cold and unsympathetic messenger-god Hermes demands that Prometheus reveal the identity of this woman – “The Father bids you tell him what this marriage is/Through which you boast that he shall fall from power” (p. 48) – and adds that Prometheus’ punishment, if he fails to submit to Zeus’ command, will include having his liver gnawed every day by an eagle. The Chorus, which usually in Greek drama expresses the likely sensibility of the audience, urges Prometheus to relent: “To us it seems that Hermes’ words are sensible./He bids you quit resistance and seek good advice./Do so; a wise man’s folly forfeits dignity” (p. 51). Yet Prometheus is unmoved, and the play ends with him crying out against his torment.
Prometheus Bound was the first play of a trilogy; the other two plays in the trilogy, Prometheus Unbound and Prometheus the Fire-Bringer, are lost. But if the dramatic trajectory of this trilogy was anything like what one sees in Aeschylus’ Oresteia, then perhaps these plays showed Prometheus softening his pride and Zeus moderating his wrath – a scenario in which, while humans need to learn to serve the gods faithfully, so the gods must learn to rule justly.
Certainly Prometheus has a major and enduring role in our culture – not just the film Prometheus, cited above, but also examples as varied as Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818), bearing as it does the subtitle The Modern Prometheus; Percy Bysshe Shelley’s lyrical drama Prometheus Unbound (1820), which gives Shelley’s Romanticism-inflected version of the events following Aeschylus’ play; and even the Prometheus statue that dominates the lower plaza at New York’s Rockefeller Center, where the fire-bringing Titan is made to symbolize New York’s enduring spirit of commerce and enterprise. I suppose it is for the best that sculptor Paul Manship didn’t show Prometheus bound to the rock, with the liver-gnawing eagle and all that – would have sent the wrong message.
The suppliants of Aeschylus’ The Suppliants are 50 women – the “Danaids” or daughters of Danaus, whose brother, the Egyptian king Aegyptus has 50 sons. Aegyptus believes that it would be a simply perfect arrangement if all of Danaus’ daughters married all of Aegyptus’ sons – 50 brides for 50 brothers – but the Danaids are having none of it. Therefore they have left their Egyptian homeland and taken refuge on Greece’s Peloponnesian coast, saying, “Exile is our choice,/Our hope of escape from lust of men,/From abhorred and impious union with Aegyptus’ sons” (p. 54). The Argive king Pelasgus is skeptical at first regarding their request for political asylum in Argos, stating that “Marriage within the family gives increase of strength” (p. 64); evidently, it doesn’t much bother him if cousins marry. Yet Pelasgus faces a dreadful dilemma: if he shelters the Danaids, the Egyptians will make war upon him; if he rejects the Danaids, he will violate the obligation of every Greek king to shelter the suppliant. And an arrogant Egyptian herald, arriving on the Peloponnesian coast, makes all too clear his readiness to drag the Danaids – by the hair, if necessary – back into the slavery of marriage to the Aegyptids.
The play ends on a note of cautious hope for the Danaids; but the true shape of things to come may be seen in the words of a second chorus, a chorus of maids who counsel restraint and reverence for the will of the gods: “[Y]ou, it seems, would alter the unalterable….[I]n your prayers use restraint….Towards the gods – never be uncompromising” (p. 85). In the remaining plays of the tetralogy that The Suppliants begins, perhaps Aeschylus spun out the rest of the story: the Danaids’ forced marriage to the Aegyptids, their wedding-night murders of their husbands, and their punishment in Tartarus – forever carrying water in perforated buckets, to fill a tub that will never be filled.
The Seven Against Thebes invokes a mythological scenario that will be familiar to readers of Sophocles’ Antigone -- a civil war between Oedipus’ sons Eteocles and Polyneices. Greek viewers of Aeschylus’ time would have known well the story of how the two brothers are supposed to rule Thebes jointly; but Eteocles seizes sole power for himself, and in response Polyneices raises a mercenary army of Argive soldiers to lay siege to Thebes, with one Argive captain stationing himself outside each of Thebes’ seven gates – hence, the Seven Against Thebes. Eteocles commands elite Theban officers to defend the gates, and goes forth to lead the defense himself.
The scenario creates an ethical double-bind. Does one support the king who rules unjustly? Or does one follow the rebel who threatens to bring all the horrors of civil war to the city he wants to rule – who will, in effect, destroy Thebes in order to save it?
Eteocles possesses the arrogance characteristic of many of the tragic heroes of classical Greek drama, confidently asserting that the Theban people need “Never fear this horde of foreigners!/God will give victory” (p. 89). A chorus of Theban women meanwhile express their anxiety regarding the coming conflict, and pray to the gods for relief for the fate that awaits them if Polyneices’ rebel army prevails: “Come, all you gods who guard our country;/See us, threatened with slavery, joining in supplication” (p. 91).
The result of the battle is an eloquent denunciation of the horrors of civil war. All of the Seven Against Thebes are killed; so are the Theban captains who defended the city against them. Worse yet, the two brothers Eteocles and Polyneices have killed each other. Antigone and Ismene, sisters of Eteocles and Polyneices, come together to mourn over their dead brothers. As in Sophocles’ Antigone, it is ordained that Eteocles will receive honourable burial, while the body of the rebel Polyneices will be exposed to the elements; and Antigone boldly announces her intent of giving her brother Polyneices a dignified burial, come what may. The play ends on a note of division, with half of the chorus following the funeral procession of each of the dead brothers.
The Persians differs from the other plays in this collection, in that it draws from history rather than mythology for its source material. The tragic protagonist here is Xerxes, king of Persia; the time is sometime in 480 or 479 B.C., not long after the Greek victory at the Battle of Salamis destroyed Xerxes’ dreams of conquering the Greek city-states and incorporating them into the Persian Empire. When The Persians premiered in 472 B.C., the Greeks’ victory at Salamis was just eight years in the past – rather as if a playwright today, in 2017, wrote a play dramatizing a major 2009 event.
Standing at the tomb of Xerxes’ predecessor Darius, a Chorus of Persian councilors waits anxiously for the return of Xerxes, wondering what the result of the Persian expedition against Greece may have been. They are joined in front of the Persian royal palace at Susa by Xerxes’ mother Atossa, who expresses her own sense of dread “That our vast wealth may in its rash course overturn/That fair peace which Darius built with heaven’s help” (p. 127).
Atossa sees in a dream the destruction of the Persian forces at Salamis; and when the ghost of Darius arises, King Hamlet-like, from his tomb, having sensed disquiet in his former kingdom, Atossa must tell him the bad news of Xerxes’ defeat. The Persian Darius sounds very Greek when he bemoans how “my son, in youthful recklessness,/Not knowing the gods’ ways, has been the cause of all” (p. 143). That theme of impious pride being thrown down by divine will is reinforced when Xerxes himself enters, in rags, describes his defeat, and denounces himself as “A loathed and piteous outcast,/Born to destroy my race” (p. 148). Did the original Athenians watching this play feel sympathy for Xerxes in his downfall? Did they look at this play as an opportunity to do a bit of an “end-zone dance” over their defeated Persian enemy? Or were there elements of both?
With helpful commentary and notes from the distinguished translator Philip Vellacott, this Penguin Books edition of Prometheus Bound and Other Plays provides a fine and strong introduction to these works by the first of Athens’ great dramatists.
Prometheus Bound starts off on a grim note, and only gets grimmer from there. As the play begins, the Titan Prometheus, who has defied the will of Zeus by stealing fire from heaven and giving it to humankind, is being bound to a rocky mountaintop near the sea. A sympathetically depicted Hephaestus, god of the forge, is notably reluctant to chain Prometheus to the mountain – “how can I/Find heart to lay hands on a god of my own race,/And cruelly clamp him to this bitter, bleak ravine?” (pp. 20-21) – but feels that he cannot defy the will of Zeus.
Bound to his rock, knowing that he will be condemned to unending torture, Prometheus states that his reason for giving fire to humans was not simply to raise them from the level of the other animals. Rather, he says that Zeus “Of wretched humans…took no account, resolved/To annihilate them and create another race”, and claims that “This purpose there was no one to oppose but I:/I dared. I saved the human race from being ground/To dust, from total death” (p. 27). Some modern readers might see a parallel between Prometheus’ story and the Biblical account of Christ’s enduring the torments of the Crucifixion in order to save humankind from being lost to sin. Others, who have seen Ridley Scott’s science-fiction film Prometheus (2012), will no doubt recall the revealing words of the android David: “Sometimes, to create, one must first destroy.”
Yet Prometheus holds a sort of trump card; he knows the identity of the woman who is fated to bear a son greater than his father – whose offspring could, theoretically, dethrone Zeus himself, if Zeus pursues a liaison with her. A cold and unsympathetic messenger-god Hermes demands that Prometheus reveal the identity of this woman – “The Father bids you tell him what this marriage is/Through which you boast that he shall fall from power” (p. 48) – and adds that Prometheus’ punishment, if he fails to submit to Zeus’ command, will include having his liver gnawed every day by an eagle. The Chorus, which usually in Greek drama expresses the likely sensibility of the audience, urges Prometheus to relent: “To us it seems that Hermes’ words are sensible./He bids you quit resistance and seek good advice./Do so; a wise man’s folly forfeits dignity” (p. 51). Yet Prometheus is unmoved, and the play ends with him crying out against his torment.
Prometheus Bound was the first play of a trilogy; the other two plays in the trilogy, Prometheus Unbound and Prometheus the Fire-Bringer, are lost. But if the dramatic trajectory of this trilogy was anything like what one sees in Aeschylus’ Oresteia, then perhaps these plays showed Prometheus softening his pride and Zeus moderating his wrath – a scenario in which, while humans need to learn to serve the gods faithfully, so the gods must learn to rule justly.
Certainly Prometheus has a major and enduring role in our culture – not just the film Prometheus, cited above, but also examples as varied as Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818), bearing as it does the subtitle The Modern Prometheus; Percy Bysshe Shelley’s lyrical drama Prometheus Unbound (1820), which gives Shelley’s Romanticism-inflected version of the events following Aeschylus’ play; and even the Prometheus statue that dominates the lower plaza at New York’s Rockefeller Center, where the fire-bringing Titan is made to symbolize New York’s enduring spirit of commerce and enterprise. I suppose it is for the best that sculptor Paul Manship didn’t show Prometheus bound to the rock, with the liver-gnawing eagle and all that – would have sent the wrong message.
The suppliants of Aeschylus’ The Suppliants are 50 women – the “Danaids” or daughters of Danaus, whose brother, the Egyptian king Aegyptus has 50 sons. Aegyptus believes that it would be a simply perfect arrangement if all of Danaus’ daughters married all of Aegyptus’ sons – 50 brides for 50 brothers – but the Danaids are having none of it. Therefore they have left their Egyptian homeland and taken refuge on Greece’s Peloponnesian coast, saying, “Exile is our choice,/Our hope of escape from lust of men,/From abhorred and impious union with Aegyptus’ sons” (p. 54). The Argive king Pelasgus is skeptical at first regarding their request for political asylum in Argos, stating that “Marriage within the family gives increase of strength” (p. 64); evidently, it doesn’t much bother him if cousins marry. Yet Pelasgus faces a dreadful dilemma: if he shelters the Danaids, the Egyptians will make war upon him; if he rejects the Danaids, he will violate the obligation of every Greek king to shelter the suppliant. And an arrogant Egyptian herald, arriving on the Peloponnesian coast, makes all too clear his readiness to drag the Danaids – by the hair, if necessary – back into the slavery of marriage to the Aegyptids.
The play ends on a note of cautious hope for the Danaids; but the true shape of things to come may be seen in the words of a second chorus, a chorus of maids who counsel restraint and reverence for the will of the gods: “[Y]ou, it seems, would alter the unalterable….[I]n your prayers use restraint….Towards the gods – never be uncompromising” (p. 85). In the remaining plays of the tetralogy that The Suppliants begins, perhaps Aeschylus spun out the rest of the story: the Danaids’ forced marriage to the Aegyptids, their wedding-night murders of their husbands, and their punishment in Tartarus – forever carrying water in perforated buckets, to fill a tub that will never be filled.
The Seven Against Thebes invokes a mythological scenario that will be familiar to readers of Sophocles’ Antigone -- a civil war between Oedipus’ sons Eteocles and Polyneices. Greek viewers of Aeschylus’ time would have known well the story of how the two brothers are supposed to rule Thebes jointly; but Eteocles seizes sole power for himself, and in response Polyneices raises a mercenary army of Argive soldiers to lay siege to Thebes, with one Argive captain stationing himself outside each of Thebes’ seven gates – hence, the Seven Against Thebes. Eteocles commands elite Theban officers to defend the gates, and goes forth to lead the defense himself.
The scenario creates an ethical double-bind. Does one support the king who rules unjustly? Or does one follow the rebel who threatens to bring all the horrors of civil war to the city he wants to rule – who will, in effect, destroy Thebes in order to save it?
Eteocles possesses the arrogance characteristic of many of the tragic heroes of classical Greek drama, confidently asserting that the Theban people need “Never fear this horde of foreigners!/God will give victory” (p. 89). A chorus of Theban women meanwhile express their anxiety regarding the coming conflict, and pray to the gods for relief for the fate that awaits them if Polyneices’ rebel army prevails: “Come, all you gods who guard our country;/See us, threatened with slavery, joining in supplication” (p. 91).
The result of the battle is an eloquent denunciation of the horrors of civil war. All of the Seven Against Thebes are killed; so are the Theban captains who defended the city against them. Worse yet, the two brothers Eteocles and Polyneices have killed each other. Antigone and Ismene, sisters of Eteocles and Polyneices, come together to mourn over their dead brothers. As in Sophocles’ Antigone, it is ordained that Eteocles will receive honourable burial, while the body of the rebel Polyneices will be exposed to the elements; and Antigone boldly announces her intent of giving her brother Polyneices a dignified burial, come what may. The play ends on a note of division, with half of the chorus following the funeral procession of each of the dead brothers.
The Persians differs from the other plays in this collection, in that it draws from history rather than mythology for its source material. The tragic protagonist here is Xerxes, king of Persia; the time is sometime in 480 or 479 B.C., not long after the Greek victory at the Battle of Salamis destroyed Xerxes’ dreams of conquering the Greek city-states and incorporating them into the Persian Empire. When The Persians premiered in 472 B.C., the Greeks’ victory at Salamis was just eight years in the past – rather as if a playwright today, in 2017, wrote a play dramatizing a major 2009 event.
Standing at the tomb of Xerxes’ predecessor Darius, a Chorus of Persian councilors waits anxiously for the return of Xerxes, wondering what the result of the Persian expedition against Greece may have been. They are joined in front of the Persian royal palace at Susa by Xerxes’ mother Atossa, who expresses her own sense of dread “That our vast wealth may in its rash course overturn/That fair peace which Darius built with heaven’s help” (p. 127).
Atossa sees in a dream the destruction of the Persian forces at Salamis; and when the ghost of Darius arises, King Hamlet-like, from his tomb, having sensed disquiet in his former kingdom, Atossa must tell him the bad news of Xerxes’ defeat. The Persian Darius sounds very Greek when he bemoans how “my son, in youthful recklessness,/Not knowing the gods’ ways, has been the cause of all” (p. 143). That theme of impious pride being thrown down by divine will is reinforced when Xerxes himself enters, in rags, describes his defeat, and denounces himself as “A loathed and piteous outcast,/Born to destroy my race” (p. 148). Did the original Athenians watching this play feel sympathy for Xerxes in his downfall? Did they look at this play as an opportunity to do a bit of an “end-zone dance” over their defeated Persian enemy? Or were there elements of both?
With helpful commentary and notes from the distinguished translator Philip Vellacott, this Penguin Books edition of Prometheus Bound and Other Plays provides a fine and strong introduction to these works by the first of Athens’ great dramatists.
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Though I’ve already written a review in Romanian for Prometheus Bound, it would have been strange if I didn’t write something about the entire volume that includes four of Aeschylus’ tragedies: The Suppliant Maidens, The Persians, The Seven Against Thebes and Prometheus Bound.
What you need to know about Aeschylus is that he is one of the three emblematic figures of Greek tragedy along with Sophocles and Euripides. It is said that Aeschylus wrote around one hundred plays during his lifetime, but only seven survived the test of time, four of which I’ve mentioned above, while the other three form the Oresteia Trilogy. Aeschylus is also known for introducing the second actor on the stage. He gradually diminished the role of the chorus and he shifted the focus from the lyricism of the composition to the dialogue – an important change that gives the tragedy its dramatic characteristics we all recognize even today. For his artistic achievements, Aeschylus is also called the Father of Tragedy and he is praised by the Greek philosopher Aristotle in his famous work, Poetics.
The Suppliant Maidens (Ἱκέτιδες) is the earliest play of Aeschylus’ that survived to the present day, but it is less known in contrast with his other works. I actually read this one last because the subject didn’t appeal to me that much and I found the play pretty mediocre in theme and ‘action’. The subject has its roots in Greek mythology and it is the story of Danaus’ daughters who flee from Egypt to Argos, in order to avoid their incestuous marriages to the sons of Aegyptus, who were their cousins. The maidens (escorted by their father) find shelter in Argos hoping not to be captured by their suitors. In order to help the newcomers, Pelasgus (the King of Argos) asks his people to vote and their decision is crucial for the maidens’ destinies. Though the other two parts of the trilogy are lost, there are some scarce references to what happens to the maidens in Prometheus Bound and in one of Horace’s Odes.
E. D. A. Moreshead wrote about The Persians (Πέρσαι) that it “was brought out in 472 B.C., eight years after the sea-fight of Salamis which it commemorates” (p. 5), a play that had a great significance for those who fought against the Persian Empire in the Battles of Termopilæ, Marathon, Salamis and Plataea. The Persians might be the second play of a trilogy “standing between the Phineus and the Glaucus” (Idem.), Phineus being a prophet like Tiresias, who foreshadowed the conflict that is depicted in The Persians. I won’t spoil your read, but I will only add that, through this play, Aeschylus sends a patriotic message to his fellow Athenians and he revives their past victories against the Persians or the triumph of civilisation against barbarism, as Ovidiu Drîmba writes in his study of the history of theatre. t
The Seven Against Thebes (Ἑπτὰ ἐπὶ Θήβας) depicts the siege of Thebes along with the cruel fate of the two brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, who were cursed by their father, the late King Oedipus, for not taking care of their blind parent and for their selfishness and thirst for power. From my point of view, the most lyrical and heartbreaking parts of the play are those recited by the Chorus of Maidens, who depict the terrific battle scenes and address helpless and desperate prayers to the gods to protect the city and not let it fall into the hands of their enemy. The irony is that the name Thebes doesn’t appear anywhere in the text, but Cadmea or Cadmus. The one that gave the play the name we all know was actually Aristophanes, who referred to it in his comedy Frogs as "the Seven against Thebes, a drama instinct with War, which anyone who beheld must have yearned to be a warrior" (p. 6).
In Prometheus Bound (Προμηθεὺς Δεσμώτης), Titan Prometheus is punished by Zeus for creating the first humans, for stealing the Sacred Fire from Mt. Olympus and for giving it to the earthlings to start the process of civilisation. Though Prometheus is bound to a rock on Mt. Elbrus and Zeus uses various types of torture to make the titan repent, Prometheus stands tall and doesn’t have any reason to be ashamed or to apologize for what he has done. He has the power to predict the future and that future will not be a bright one for Mighty Zeus. Prometheus is not afraid of Zeus because he is immortal; therefore, all he has to do is to endure all the torture until his saviour will fulfil the prophecy. Unfortunately for us, the second and third plays of the Promethean trilogy are lost, but we can find out who the saviour is by reading the Greek myths.
Overall, the plays were very interesting, due to their unique structure and well-known characters from history and myths, but the language was pretty old and sometimes difficult to understand – a factor that made the reading too slow for my liking. I’m sure that I would have enjoyed this volume a little more if the writing had been a bit more modern, but this is a matter of taste.
http://elitere.ro/four-plays-of-aesch...
http://elitere.ro/four-plays-of-aesch...
What you need to know about Aeschylus is that he is one of the three emblematic figures of Greek tragedy along with Sophocles and Euripides. It is said that Aeschylus wrote around one hundred plays during his lifetime, but only seven survived the test of time, four of which I’ve mentioned above, while the other three form the Oresteia Trilogy. Aeschylus is also known for introducing the second actor on the stage. He gradually diminished the role of the chorus and he shifted the focus from the lyricism of the composition to the dialogue – an important change that gives the tragedy its dramatic characteristics we all recognize even today. For his artistic achievements, Aeschylus is also called the Father of Tragedy and he is praised by the Greek philosopher Aristotle in his famous work, Poetics.
The Suppliant Maidens (Ἱκέτιδες) is the earliest play of Aeschylus’ that survived to the present day, but it is less known in contrast with his other works. I actually read this one last because the subject didn’t appeal to me that much and I found the play pretty mediocre in theme and ‘action’. The subject has its roots in Greek mythology and it is the story of Danaus’ daughters who flee from Egypt to Argos, in order to avoid their incestuous marriages to the sons of Aegyptus, who were their cousins. The maidens (escorted by their father) find shelter in Argos hoping not to be captured by their suitors. In order to help the newcomers, Pelasgus (the King of Argos) asks his people to vote and their decision is crucial for the maidens’ destinies. Though the other two parts of the trilogy are lost, there are some scarce references to what happens to the maidens in Prometheus Bound and in one of Horace’s Odes.
E. D. A. Moreshead wrote about The Persians (Πέρσαι) that it “was brought out in 472 B.C., eight years after the sea-fight of Salamis which it commemorates” (p. 5), a play that had a great significance for those who fought against the Persian Empire in the Battles of Termopilæ, Marathon, Salamis and Plataea. The Persians might be the second play of a trilogy “standing between the Phineus and the Glaucus” (Idem.), Phineus being a prophet like Tiresias, who foreshadowed the conflict that is depicted in The Persians. I won’t spoil your read, but I will only add that, through this play, Aeschylus sends a patriotic message to his fellow Athenians and he revives their past victories against the Persians or the triumph of civilisation against barbarism, as Ovidiu Drîmba writes in his study of the history of theatre. t
The Seven Against Thebes (Ἑπτὰ ἐπὶ Θήβας) depicts the siege of Thebes along with the cruel fate of the two brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, who were cursed by their father, the late King Oedipus, for not taking care of their blind parent and for their selfishness and thirst for power. From my point of view, the most lyrical and heartbreaking parts of the play are those recited by the Chorus of Maidens, who depict the terrific battle scenes and address helpless and desperate prayers to the gods to protect the city and not let it fall into the hands of their enemy. The irony is that the name Thebes doesn’t appear anywhere in the text, but Cadmea or Cadmus. The one that gave the play the name we all know was actually Aristophanes, who referred to it in his comedy Frogs as "the Seven against Thebes, a drama instinct with War, which anyone who beheld must have yearned to be a warrior" (p. 6).
In Prometheus Bound (Προμηθεὺς Δεσμώτης), Titan Prometheus is punished by Zeus for creating the first humans, for stealing the Sacred Fire from Mt. Olympus and for giving it to the earthlings to start the process of civilisation. Though Prometheus is bound to a rock on Mt. Elbrus and Zeus uses various types of torture to make the titan repent, Prometheus stands tall and doesn’t have any reason to be ashamed or to apologize for what he has done. He has the power to predict the future and that future will not be a bright one for Mighty Zeus. Prometheus is not afraid of Zeus because he is immortal; therefore, all he has to do is to endure all the torture until his saviour will fulfil the prophecy. Unfortunately for us, the second and third plays of the Promethean trilogy are lost, but we can find out who the saviour is by reading the Greek myths.
Overall, the plays were very interesting, due to their unique structure and well-known characters from history and myths, but the language was pretty old and sometimes difficult to understand – a factor that made the reading too slow for my liking. I’m sure that I would have enjoyed this volume a little more if the writing had been a bit more modern, but this is a matter of taste.
http://elitere.ro/four-plays-of-aesch...
http://elitere.ro/four-plays-of-aesch...
...
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Read directly after the relatively familiar Sophocles plays, which felt at times like the better parts of Shakespeare or Arrested Development, Aeschylus' drama applied itself to me in bold, even savage strokes. No wonder the young Nietzsche considered the soldier-turned-propagandist to have orchestrated tragedy's purest form - anything here resembling subtlety is bound in service to one or another unapologetic chauvinisms, any subversion of which is punished, catastrophically and unavoidably, by greater powers. The human position, the tragic position, is to walk into the gnashing jaws of fate. Pelasgus and Eteocles do so by placing themselves in harm's way. Xerxes flees his punishment and crumbles in humiliation. Throughout, the righteous noblesse of the lionised, masculinised Greek civilisation is contrasted with images of barbarian decadence. The Danaids are the only female (or indeed feminised) characters whose fear is transmuted to nobility - their preference for death over dishonour, as a sticking point, places them alongside the otherwise individual, "heroic", and definitely male tragic protagonists.
Prometheus Bound stands out, and the theory attributing its authorship to Aeschylus' own son, working from his father's notes, is appealing if only for the sense of teleological continuity it offers for the evolution of the tragic form. The matured, schizoid Nietzsche might be more compatible with this hero, whose challenges to the gods may actually promise to shake them from their pedestals, and whose noble suffering, though long and deep, comes yet with the certainty of vindication at the hands of his beneficiaries. The lines are blurred between the divine and the mortal. Glory is within reach, at least for some.
Once again, the OWC paperbacks deliver a wealth of supplementary material, including seventy-odd pages of introduction, and explanatory notes that match the play-texts themselves for volume. Alternating comfortably between two bookmarks remains a challenge, but as with operatic surtitles or anime subtitles, one learns to develop rhythms so as to integrate the stage-action and accompanying text into a cohesive, narrative experience.
Prometheus Bound stands out, and the theory attributing its authorship to Aeschylus' own son, working from his father's notes, is appealing if only for the sense of teleological continuity it offers for the evolution of the tragic form. The matured, schizoid Nietzsche might be more compatible with this hero, whose challenges to the gods may actually promise to shake them from their pedestals, and whose noble suffering, though long and deep, comes yet with the certainty of vindication at the hands of his beneficiaries. The lines are blurred between the divine and the mortal. Glory is within reach, at least for some.
Once again, the OWC paperbacks deliver a wealth of supplementary material, including seventy-odd pages of introduction, and explanatory notes that match the play-texts themselves for volume. Alternating comfortably between two bookmarks remains a challenge, but as with operatic surtitles or anime subtitles, one learns to develop rhythms so as to integrate the stage-action and accompanying text into a cohesive, narrative experience.
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really enjoyed prometheus bound and i’ve always liked the suppliants. this reminds me to finish reading the first two works in the oresteia + prometheus unbound by percy shelley
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Prometheus is by far and away the stand out of this little collection of Greek drama - fragments of longer trilogies that were otherwise lost. The grandeur and drama of Prometheus Bound is spectacular, but the other three plays included in this edition just don't measure up.
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1) Filottete (Sofocle) - 4 stelle.
Mi è piaciuta molto questa tragedia! Pur essendo nel complesso piuttosto statica, si è fatta leggere con interesse ed emozione!
Belli i personaggi, bello il tema trattato, bello anche lo scenario dell’isola selvaggia e deserta! :)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
2) Agamennone (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Sempre affascinante leggere un testo così antico. E’ proprio l’espressione di un altro modo di pensare. Come dice Enrico Medda in una delle note, in questa tragedia, ancor più nel seguito della trilogia, non c’è una contrapposizione tra giusto e ingiusto, ma tra diverse concezioni di giustizia.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
3) Coefore (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Come quasi tutti i capitoli di mezzo delle trilogie, è un po’ appeso, meno incisivo del primo (il terzo devo ovviamente ancora leggerlo), ma comunque interessante.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
4) Eumenidi (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Da quando a scuola lessi il riassunto di questa trilogia, mi venne il desiderio di leggerla perché una cosa in particolare mi aveva grandemente affascinato: la scena d’inizio di questa tragedia. La Pizia si prepara ad accogliere i pellegrini in cerca di profezie, e si ritrova davanti Oreste, con le mani ancora insanguinate, circondato dalle Erinni che dormono. Penso che sia una scena fantastica, non so come potevano essere i costumi all’epoca, ma anche solo con la fantasia è un’immagine spettacolare, questo ragazzo che per forza di cose si trova a familiarizzare con questi esseri mostruosi! :)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
5) Aiace (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
Ma sapete che Sofocle era proprio bravo a scrivere? ;) Anche questa tragedia mi è piaciuta molto, nonostante la storia, stavolta, non fosse particolarmente interessante.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
6) Sette contro Tebe (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Forse dopo l’Orestea mi sarà difficile provare le stesse emozioni per un’altra tragedia greca, però sono sempre una lettura che mi piace moltissimo. Situazioni assurde, scelte incomprensibili, il fato che sovrasta ogni cosa e impone il suo volere… eppure si parla sempre di sentimenti umani, e per questo colpiscono ancora oggi, a millenni di distanza, noi lettori che apparentemente non abbiamo il benché minimo tratto in comune con questi personaggi. E’ tutto un po’ una metafora, efficace sempre, allora come oggi.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
7) Trachinie (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
Conoscevo già il mito su cui si basa questa tragedia, sapevo quindi come la storia sarebbe andata a finire. Poi, è una tragedia, perciò il finale tristissimo pieno di morte e sciagura era previsto, però devo dire che l’ho trovato davvero molto deprimente.
Tenuto conto di tutto ciò, comunque mi è piaciuto leggere questa tragedia, non l’ho trovata per nulla pesante o noiosa, e anche se non credo sia una di quelle che mi rimarrà impressa com’è accaduto invece qualche altra volta, è stata una bella lettura.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
8) Persiani (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Mi è piaciuta molto questa tragedia, anche se la parte del Coro l’ho trovata noiosa perché troppo ripetitiva. Mi è piaciuto che rappresentasse, una volta tanto, un evento storico e non mitologico, e mi è piaciuto che decidesse di mostrarcelo da un punto di vista originale, quello dei vinti. Intendiamoci, solo dal loro punto di vista, non certo dalla loro parte, perché comunque lo scopo di Eschilo era esaltare i Greci e la loro famosa vittoria. In ogni caso una lettura molto piacevole e interessante!
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
9) Edipo Re (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
La grandezza di autori come Sofocle sta nell’essere stati in grado di raccontare qualcosa che tutti già conoscevano, e renderlo comunque appassionante. La storia di Edipo è così, strafamosa che noi lettori/spettatori vediamo la tragedia avvicinarsi a poco a poco agli ignari personaggi, ma non per questo siamo meno coinvolti emotivamente.
E allora fissa il tuo occhio al girono estremo e non dire felice uomo mortale, prima che abbia varcato il termine della vita senza aver patito dolore.
(Corifeo nell’explicit)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
10) Elettra (Sofocle) - 3 stelle
Il voto un po’ più basso del solito è dovuto al fatto che non amo particolarmente questa parte del mito, e non sono riuscita a farmi coinvolgere come è accaduto per altre tragedie, ma alla fine comunque il libro mi è piaciuto e, pur non concordando con lei, ho apprezzato molto la protagonista.
https://www.naufragio.it/iltempodileg...
Mi è piaciuta molto questa tragedia! Pur essendo nel complesso piuttosto statica, si è fatta leggere con interesse ed emozione!
Belli i personaggi, bello il tema trattato, bello anche lo scenario dell’isola selvaggia e deserta! :)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
2) Agamennone (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Sempre affascinante leggere un testo così antico. E’ proprio l’espressione di un altro modo di pensare. Come dice Enrico Medda in una delle note, in questa tragedia, ancor più nel seguito della trilogia, non c’è una contrapposizione tra giusto e ingiusto, ma tra diverse concezioni di giustizia.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
3) Coefore (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Come quasi tutti i capitoli di mezzo delle trilogie, è un po’ appeso, meno incisivo del primo (il terzo devo ovviamente ancora leggerlo), ma comunque interessante.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
4) Eumenidi (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Da quando a scuola lessi il riassunto di questa trilogia, mi venne il desiderio di leggerla perché una cosa in particolare mi aveva grandemente affascinato: la scena d’inizio di questa tragedia. La Pizia si prepara ad accogliere i pellegrini in cerca di profezie, e si ritrova davanti Oreste, con le mani ancora insanguinate, circondato dalle Erinni che dormono. Penso che sia una scena fantastica, non so come potevano essere i costumi all’epoca, ma anche solo con la fantasia è un’immagine spettacolare, questo ragazzo che per forza di cose si trova a familiarizzare con questi esseri mostruosi! :)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
5) Aiace (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
Ma sapete che Sofocle era proprio bravo a scrivere? ;) Anche questa tragedia mi è piaciuta molto, nonostante la storia, stavolta, non fosse particolarmente interessante.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
6) Sette contro Tebe (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Forse dopo l’Orestea mi sarà difficile provare le stesse emozioni per un’altra tragedia greca, però sono sempre una lettura che mi piace moltissimo. Situazioni assurde, scelte incomprensibili, il fato che sovrasta ogni cosa e impone il suo volere… eppure si parla sempre di sentimenti umani, e per questo colpiscono ancora oggi, a millenni di distanza, noi lettori che apparentemente non abbiamo il benché minimo tratto in comune con questi personaggi. E’ tutto un po’ una metafora, efficace sempre, allora come oggi.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
7) Trachinie (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
Conoscevo già il mito su cui si basa questa tragedia, sapevo quindi come la storia sarebbe andata a finire. Poi, è una tragedia, perciò il finale tristissimo pieno di morte e sciagura era previsto, però devo dire che l’ho trovato davvero molto deprimente.
Tenuto conto di tutto ciò, comunque mi è piaciuto leggere questa tragedia, non l’ho trovata per nulla pesante o noiosa, e anche se non credo sia una di quelle che mi rimarrà impressa com’è accaduto invece qualche altra volta, è stata una bella lettura.
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
8) Persiani (Eschilo) - 4 stelle
Mi è piaciuta molto questa tragedia, anche se la parte del Coro l’ho trovata noiosa perché troppo ripetitiva. Mi è piaciuto che rappresentasse, una volta tanto, un evento storico e non mitologico, e mi è piaciuto che decidesse di mostrarcelo da un punto di vista originale, quello dei vinti. Intendiamoci, solo dal loro punto di vista, non certo dalla loro parte, perché comunque lo scopo di Eschilo era esaltare i Greci e la loro famosa vittoria. In ogni caso una lettura molto piacevole e interessante!
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
9) Edipo Re (Sofocle) - 4 stelle
La grandezza di autori come Sofocle sta nell’essere stati in grado di raccontare qualcosa che tutti già conoscevano, e renderlo comunque appassionante. La storia di Edipo è così, strafamosa che noi lettori/spettatori vediamo la tragedia avvicinarsi a poco a poco agli ignari personaggi, ma non per questo siamo meno coinvolti emotivamente.
E allora fissa il tuo occhio al girono estremo e non dire felice uomo mortale, prima che abbia varcato il termine della vita senza aver patito dolore.
(Corifeo nell’explicit)
http://www.naufragio.it/iltempodilegg...
10) Elettra (Sofocle) - 3 stelle
Il voto un po’ più basso del solito è dovuto al fatto che non amo particolarmente questa parte del mito, e non sono riuscita a farmi coinvolgere come è accaduto per altre tragedie, ma alla fine comunque il libro mi è piaciuto e, pur non concordando con lei, ho apprezzato molto la protagonista.
https://www.naufragio.it/iltempodileg...
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Quality Rating: Four Stars
Enjoyment Rating: Three Stars
I definitely preferred Prometheus Bound and The Persians to the other plays in this collection. Divine intervention is always more interesting for me, but even the plays I didn't like so much were still written very well. There's a level of eloquence classical writers are known for that you really don't find these days, and I think Aeschylus demonstrates this perfectly. I'm definitely enjoying studying this over some of the other texts, and I think it's a good way to go into classical plays if you're at al interested but slightly daunted by the idea.
Enjoyment Rating: Three Stars
I definitely preferred Prometheus Bound and The Persians to the other plays in this collection. Divine intervention is always more interesting for me, but even the plays I didn't like so much were still written very well. There's a level of eloquence classical writers are known for that you really don't find these days, and I think Aeschylus demonstrates this perfectly. I'm definitely enjoying studying this over some of the other texts, and I think it's a good way to go into classical plays if you're at al interested but slightly daunted by the idea.
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As theater goes I have read nothing of higher caliber than this. Prometheus Bound especially stirs great emotion in the reader and would be amazing to see live. The conversations with the Ocean, the nature of the gods, mans relation to fire. It is all very poetic and lovely. It was a sheer pleasure to read these works of Aeschylus.
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I'm really enjoying my exploration of these ancient Greek works, I just wish more of them survived! I was so invested in The Suppliants, just for the trilogy to be incomplete
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I recommend that you look at Terence's review at http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/... , but I would like to add some remarks to his.
Amongst these plays I much preferred The Persians. It opens with the elderly councilors to Xerxes who remained behind in Susa. They recall the pride and confidence with which the Persian army set forth but now are filled with foreboding and anxiety at the lack of news of victory. The tension between these emotions is very well drawn. The sense of foreboding is heightened when Xerxes' mother arrives and relates a dream and an omen. Then the news of Persia's calamity at Salamis arrives. The messenger recounts the battle - since Aeschylus was probably in the Athenian navy at Salamis (in any case, since the play was written only 8 years after that battle, he surely knew what he was writing about), I found this report to be riveting and composed in a noble and exciting poetry. In their grief they summon the shade of Darius, Xerxes' father (not the last ghost to haunt Western theater), who warns at length against hubris (he is clearly Aeschylus' puppet here). Then the defeated Xerxes arrives to emphasize in most dramatic speech the disastrous consequences of hubris. This emphasis on hubris is, of course, Greek, not Persian. But I very much appreciate that Aeschylus, instead of gloating over the Greeks' victory, empathized with the defeated foe.
This play has none of the frequent invocations, laments and pleas to the gods found in the other plays. I understand that ancient Greek drama had religious ceremony at its origin and only slowly developed its more human concerns, and, since Aeschylus is the eldest of the Greek playwrights whose work has survived, it is natural that there are, seemingly, more such invocations in his work. But, as understandable as it may be, it was a relief not to have to read them in The Persians . And since much of Prometheus Bound consists of such addresses, my pleasure in that play, clearly the most dramatic of the four in this book, was diminished.
Indeed, I find that I disagree with the relative ranking of Prometheus Bound and The Suppliants made by so many. Yes, Prometheus Bound can be read as a rebellion against tyranny, but as such an allegory it is quite thin. The rebellion occurred before the action of the play - the play is actually about the sufferings of those who rebel against tyranny. This is emphasized by the arrival of Io. How much more appealing, to my mind, is the story of a father trying to shelter his daughters (their number, 50, is absurd, but let that pass) from violent and unwanted suitors! And the moment when King Pelasgus realizes how bad of a situation the arrival of the descendants of Io has placed him in is real.
As for Seven Against Thebes, the less said the better. I was not surprised to read, after I had finished the play and felt that the appearance of Antigone and Ismene was superfluous, that Aeschylus' original ending was replaced by this foreign appendage 50 years after his death.
Rating
http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/112...
Amongst these plays I much preferred The Persians. It opens with the elderly councilors to Xerxes who remained behind in Susa. They recall the pride and confidence with which the Persian army set forth but now are filled with foreboding and anxiety at the lack of news of victory. The tension between these emotions is very well drawn. The sense of foreboding is heightened when Xerxes' mother arrives and relates a dream and an omen. Then the news of Persia's calamity at Salamis arrives. The messenger recounts the battle - since Aeschylus was probably in the Athenian navy at Salamis (in any case, since the play was written only 8 years after that battle, he surely knew what he was writing about), I found this report to be riveting and composed in a noble and exciting poetry. In their grief they summon the shade of Darius, Xerxes' father (not the last ghost to haunt Western theater), who warns at length against hubris (he is clearly Aeschylus' puppet here). Then the defeated Xerxes arrives to emphasize in most dramatic speech the disastrous consequences of hubris. This emphasis on hubris is, of course, Greek, not Persian. But I very much appreciate that Aeschylus, instead of gloating over the Greeks' victory, empathized with the defeated foe.
This play has none of the frequent invocations, laments and pleas to the gods found in the other plays. I understand that ancient Greek drama had religious ceremony at its origin and only slowly developed its more human concerns, and, since Aeschylus is the eldest of the Greek playwrights whose work has survived, it is natural that there are, seemingly, more such invocations in his work. But, as understandable as it may be, it was a relief not to have to read them in The Persians . And since much of Prometheus Bound consists of such addresses, my pleasure in that play, clearly the most dramatic of the four in this book, was diminished.
Indeed, I find that I disagree with the relative ranking of Prometheus Bound and The Suppliants made by so many. Yes, Prometheus Bound can be read as a rebellion against tyranny, but as such an allegory it is quite thin. The rebellion occurred before the action of the play - the play is actually about the sufferings of those who rebel against tyranny. This is emphasized by the arrival of Io. How much more appealing, to my mind, is the story of a father trying to shelter his daughters (their number, 50, is absurd, but let that pass) from violent and unwanted suitors! And the moment when King Pelasgus realizes how bad of a situation the arrival of the descendants of Io has placed him in is real.
As for Seven Against Thebes, the less said the better. I was not surprised to read, after I had finished the play and felt that the appearance of Antigone and Ismene was superfluous, that Aeschylus' original ending was replaced by this foreign appendage 50 years after his death.
Rating
http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/112...
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Unlike his successor Sophocles, Aeschylus is extremely difficult on the modern reader. He is our earliest surviving example of drama, and this clearly shows. This is theater at its most primitive state. Undeveloped, with much growing up to do. Aeschylus wrote about seventy plays, of which only six (and one's authorship being disputed) now survive. Only one of his trilogies remain, The Oresteia, and three of his plays were part of trilogies that are now lost. The Persians is a historical curiosity for being the oldest play in existence; and unique among Greek tragedies for its subject matter being based on a recent historical event.
Aeschylus's verse is known for its grandeur, and for its lack of action. His plays are made completely of speeches, with no action happening on stage. This fact combined with the piety of the writing makes the plays painful to get through, despite their short length. Some plays make the readers scratch their heads in wondering why they were chosen by copyists to remain down through the generations. Why The Suppliants or The Seven Against Thebes? These are questions still unanswered.
For the casual reader of Greek literature, Aeschylus is a trying author to read. For the average reader I would simply leave him unrecommended (Except for The Oresteia and Prometheus Bound, both of which are quite good for those interested). For those interested in Greek tragedy without dealing with the extravagantly outdated verse, Sophocles is the recommended course. I have not yet read Euripides, but from what I've seen he is also probably much easier to relate to as well. Aeschylus's writings remains important for Greek academics and historians, but as enjoyable reading there is much to be desired.
Aeschylus's verse is known for its grandeur, and for its lack of action. His plays are made completely of speeches, with no action happening on stage. This fact combined with the piety of the writing makes the plays painful to get through, despite their short length. Some plays make the readers scratch their heads in wondering why they were chosen by copyists to remain down through the generations. Why The Suppliants or The Seven Against Thebes? These are questions still unanswered.
For the casual reader of Greek literature, Aeschylus is a trying author to read. For the average reader I would simply leave him unrecommended (Except for The Oresteia and Prometheus Bound, both of which are quite good for those interested). For those interested in Greek tragedy without dealing with the extravagantly outdated verse, Sophocles is the recommended course. I have not yet read Euripides, but from what I've seen he is also probably much easier to relate to as well. Aeschylus's writings remains important for Greek academics and historians, but as enjoyable reading there is much to be desired.
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