Even in translation, one gets the sense of Aeschylus' taking language as far as it can go, and it a number of instances, too far. But of the three Greek tragedians he is by far the most interesting to me.

The Chicago University Press translations are the ones I keep coming back to. They were the first I read and I associate them most closely with the plays. It’s deeply frustrating that they do not provide more context on the language and culture. These wonderful plays deserve a deeper analysis and understanding. Fortunately, there is James C. Hogan’s excellent companion piece called A Commentary on the Complete Greek Tragedies: Aeschylus. I highly recommend having this at your side, especially when reading the Oresteia and Prometheus Bound.

Aeschylus’ fame rests on his wonderful Oresteia trilogy and revolutionary Prometheus Bound. The rest are minor pieces, without the dramatic depth or breadth of these two. Interestingly, he’s very interested in the aftermath of war.

This is one of my favorite authors and books. I highly recommend it.


The Oresteia ***** – One of the most striking things about The Oresteia is its dense imagery. The trilogy, presented on a bare stage with a strictly limited number of speakers, focuses on several key images and words that interact throughout the three parts. Imagery related to nets, houses, birds/animals, illness/healing, stains/cleaning, torches, sleeping/dreaming and sailing appear throughout. It is truly minimalist.

The Lattimore translation has many memorable lines and phrases including:

“I tell you he is alive and killing the dead.” (The Libation Bearers 887)** (Apparently that can also be read in the original Greek as “The dead is killing the living.”)
“Pain flowers for him.” (The Libation Bearers 1009)
“Let go / upon this man the stormblasts of our bloodshot breath.” (Eumenides 137)
“Caught inside / the hard wrestle of water.” (Eumenides 557)

I don’t have anything to add to the thousands of years of criticism. This is a remarkable play that I’ve returned to many times throughout my life, and I’m sure I’ll return again. The Lattimore translation, as noted above, contains many gems, though I’m baffled by the odd line breaks. Is that in the original? Is he following Aeschylus line for line? Or is that Lattimore's attempt to mimic modern (i.e., 1950s) poetry? I didn't like it. (10/13)


The Suppliant Maids *** – This play appears to lay the groundwork for the succeeding two parts of the trilogy. There are a few interesting lines, but other than that there isn’t a whole lot of drama or conflict. It is mostly building up to the climactic moments that are now lost. (05/18)


The Persians *** – This is not a very compelling play to read. It is a long lament by the Persians who had lost a war to the Athenians. In performance, with music and staging, it may have been a more compelling piece, but on the page it is rather anticlimatic. (02/11)


Seven Against Thebes *** – This is a bit more compelling than Aeschylus’ other minor plays. The ending is a bit marred and there isn’t much action (even by Greek standards), but otherwise I found the language and situation interesting. Of the three minor plays, this one deserves a re-reading.


Prometheus Bound ***** – Greek mythology is full of men struggling against gods. And losing. In Prometheus Bound, Prometheus, a fellow god, vies with a tyrannical Zeus for the benefit of mankind -- and for his trouble he’s nailed to a rock.

Aeschylus presents Zeus as a tyrant -- attempting to destroy mankind, raping Io and leaving her to Juno’s harsh fate, nailing Prometheus to a rock for defending mankind, suppressing dissent, and intimidating foes. As the preface to the Oxford edition notes, Zeus “foreshadows the methods of twentieth century totalitarianism” inflicting “’isolation, deprivation of sleep, intimidation, endlessly repeated accusations of lying, maintenance of very painful postures,’” etc. (p. 12) (After 2001, we in the U.S. can’t say these are exclusively the tools of totalitarians.)

But Prometheus has one trump card -- he knows how Zeus’s reign might end -- which even Zeus doesn’t know. The death of a god -- the rise of a new day free from tyranny -- are promised. Such thoughts agitated the pens of Romantics like Shelley and Byron. But as the Oxford preface notes, that’s probably not the direction Aeschylus took in the remainder of the trilogy. This is but part one, and evidence points to a conciliation between Prometheus and Zeus at the end. Zeus remains supreme.

By itself though, Prometheus Unbound is a romantic struggle against the seemingly omnipotent god in which the underdog, the downtrodden, the victim might actually taste victory. It’s a stirring work. It’s not surprising this part of the play survived. (01/15)

Glad to have this under my belt, and intriguing to read first hand the beginnings of drama as we know it. The Agamemnon trilogy did not touch me as much as _Prometheus Bound_. The story of fate and the cleansing of inherited sin may have modern parallels, but they are not concerns I care much about. By contrast _Prometheus Bound_ is the archetype for all future tales of resistance against contemptible rulers and abusers all the way down to Star Wars, and beyond.

It has been almost 50 years since I read the Oresteia, by Aeschylus. This volume-- translated, edited and with helpful notes by the great Richard Lattimore and David Greene-- contains the key three plays Agamemnon, the Libation Bearers and the Eumenides, as well as Prometheus Bound. Aeschylus wrote these plays after the Persian wars, and during 400-500 BC—thus almost 3000 years ago. How can these plays possibly be relevant? But, as I hope to show, they are.
As will be remembered, the Oresteia’s not so simple plot involves the returning father, Agamemnon, triumphant from the Trojan Wars, returning to his wife, Clytemnestra. In Agamemnon’s more than 10 years’ absence, his wife has been courted by many would be successors to the throne—finally succumbing to Aegisthus. Fresh off the boat from his victory in Troy, Agamemnon enters his home only to be murdered by Clytemnestra and her beau. As collateral damage, Cassandra—accurate in her prophecy of doom but to no avail, is murdered as well. Shortly thereafter, Agamemnon’s and Clytemnestra’s son, Orestes, returns to a home in grieving, and after listening to Apollo and other gods, decides to kill his mother.
To complicate matters, the gods had earlier delayed the Greek boats being launched against Troy, until as per the oracle, Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter, Iphigenia, who we are told was a willing offer at her father’s request. Hardly the safe and happy home then. Not only did Clytemnestra get angry with her husband for sacrificing their daughter, but more generally she wondered why a war that required Agamemnon’s 10+ years’ absence, and lots of death and violence was necessary in the first place-- all to bring back Helen, a very possibly willing refugee from her Greek home to the bed of the Trojan prince Hector. A pretty good question one might say.
What ensues is a debate among the gods, including the Eumenides (aka the Furies), which act a lot like our conscience. The Furies chase Orestes and make his sleep troubled. To propitiate them, he seeks relief from the gods, and ultimately is saved by the deciding vote of Zeus’s daughter, Athene at a tribunal where Athene was “only one vote”, even if the deciding one.
Prometheus Bound also examines the basis of the Olympian gods’ authority. We hear that Zeus tricked the original gods (the Titans), with Zeus displacing his father and locking him and the other up in a deep and far away place. But lest we think Zeus is all knowing and all powerful, we hear of a prophecy that the Titans will return one day and return to power. Prometheus—like Zeus-- was also a son of the Titans, and specifically the son of the Earth goddess. His brother was Atlas, also enlisted in service to the world as it were. Prometheus’ great sin was that-- without Zeus’s permission-- he gave the secret of fire to men, and thereby gave them a huge leg up towards establishing civilization and dignity, as well as some (imperfect) measure of power—evidently displeasing Zeus et al as a result. The consequences are that Prometheus is nound to a giant rock/mountain where he is attacked by vultures who eat his liver a little at a time for many years until, according to prophecy, he will be released by the liberated Titans to rule again.
Thus, despite what the audience would say are sympathetic reasons for their actions, both Orestes and Prometheus are rebels of a sort-- trying to do what they think is the right thing, seeking justice as they see it, but in their own incomplete power and understanding and without the approval of the (temporarily) ultimate god(s). Aeschylus explores what could and is likely to go wrong to people who exhibit their own, insufficiently considered, independent will—ignoring the authority of the (reigning) gods in the process (one asks why?). The upshot is that while one could expect these rebels ultimately to be vindicated (given their motives were sort of pure), such vindication would only come after suffering and doubts.
In the Oresteia, we see Orestes (son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra) confronting a very difficult question—does he kill his mother to avenge the death of his father as a good son (and perhaps also in response to his being supplanted in his mother’s affections by the slippery Aegisthus?)? Aeschylus goes deeper: should Agamemnon have sacrificed their daughter, Iphigeniea, or does he climb down from the (silly) war to the possible calumny of his colleagues and subjects? And does Clytemnestra forgive Agamemnon for the death of their daughter or avenge that death (perhaps enjoying some benefits along the way while Agamemnon is fighting the silly war). As Lattimore writes “Every correction is a blood-bath which calls for a new correction.” Where does it end?
From Prometheus, what kind of moral authority does Zeus (or the other gods) have given their elevation due to tricking the previous gods, the Titans? In a very real way, all have sinned and fallen short…
A few quotes and a conclusion of sorts:
“Zeus, who guided men to think,
Who has laid it down that wisdom
Comes alone through suffering.”

The Chorus makes clear that man’s incapacity to understand his actions:
“And any man who prays that different things befall
The city, may he reap the crime of his own heart.”

In fact the gods ordain “that fate should stand against fate to check any man’s excess…”

Yet Orestes dares to act. Impelled by a call from his dead father and armed with as always ambiguous guidance from Apollo’s oracle (as well as possibly “the loss of my estates [which] wears hard on me…”), Orestes goes on and acts, because “Who acts, shall endure. So speaks the voice of the age-old wisdom.” Well, maybe, and not without Orestes being warned by the Chorus “…that when the red drops have been spilled upon the ground they cry aloud for fresh blood.” He then murders his mother, but Orestes senses the curse of the Furies coming after him. What seemed so clear too him is no more so clear:

“Eyes illuminate the sleeping brain
But in the daylight man’s future cannot be seen.”

The Furies stick to the fact that matricide is bad and must be punished. Enter Athene:
“You wish to be called righteous rather than act right. …I say, wrong must not win by technicalities.” Yet Athene is only the deciding vote of the jury that “tries Orestes”, as she fears judgment by any single tyrant: “No anarchy, no rule of a single master. Thus I advise my citizens to govern and to grace, and not to cast fear utterly from your city. What man who fears nothing at all is ever righteous.”
Of course, as Athene notes, she had no mother, but famously jumped out of her father’s (Zeus’) head. So she has in the end no problem casting the deciding vote for Orestes, in avenging the murder of his father, even by his killing his mother. But she cuts a deal with the Furies that they remain in a position to decide which families prosper in Athens and so to co-rule with Athene herself, in a very boosterish happy ending for the citizens of Athens (no doubt pleasing to the audience).
If the Oresteia is ambiguous, leaving the reader/audience with a sense that a happy ending is possible but to some extent random, Prometheus Bound spotlights the Olympian divine superstructure being both jealous of human success and strongly conflicted in terms of taking care of the human citizens who are clearly less than gods—one would think Aeschylus here is being blasphemous or at least reflective of Athenian pride and prevailing skepticism of their gods (cf American Gods by Neil Gaiman).
In Prometheus, Aeschylus examines the conflict between “(physical) might is right” and “by reasoning, man can progress peacefully.” Athenians no doubt wanted human wisdom and reasoning to take precedence over what seemed like arbitrary divine edicts. Prometheus brought fire to men that they might progress; however, in doing so he upset the balance of power between man and “the gods”, in favor of man. Little wonder that Zeus has Prometheus punished although in a particularly cruel manner.
“Might” and “Violence” are in fact introduced as “demons of Zeus”—showing clearly which side Aeschylus favors as if that were unclear. Aeschylus appeals to the times and mores of the Titans: “…new are the customs by which Zeus rules, customs that have no law to them, but what was great before he brings to nothingness.” (the latter sung by the Chorus).
Prometheus calls Zeus a tyrant (not popular with the Athenians) and more. When the chorus asks Prometheus if perhaps he did not go a little far with his love for humans, Prometheus proudly says “I caused mortals to cease foreseeing doom.”
The Chorus then begins to act like Job’s friends in questioning Prometheus’s excess:
“Do you not see how you have erred? It is not pleasure for me to say that you have erred, and for you it is a pain to hear. But let us speak no more of all this and do you seek some means of deliverance from your trials.
[To which Prometheus replies:
“It is an easy thing for one whose foot
Is on the outside of calamity
To give advice and rebuke the sufferer.”

And weren’t we supposed to learn wisdom from suffering? Others also come to urge Prometheus to make peace with Zeus, including Oceanos. But Prometheus stubbornly continues to boast of the seeds and tools of civilization which he gave man, and has faith in the Furies and fates which he says are more powerful than Zeus.” Other gods come by and doubt Prometheus’ prophecy, including Hermes, who just sees Zeus has the power now. Prometheus should never “think that obstinacy is better than prudent counsel.”

But the play ends with Prometheus complaining of his unjust suffering and calling on his mother, the Earth, for help.

The themes that come out these plays are that overweening pride results in suffering, and that fear of the gods is prudent—yet for Aeschylus such fear should be tempered by one’s own conscience (despite the almost certain existence of irony). Action and conviction matter as well, whether by a god such as Prometheus or men like Orestes. There is no guarantee for success—only the hope that the action taken will succeed and even be blessed. All this makes the belief in an omnipotent God much more attractive!

Review of n  The Oresteian

Review of n  Prometheus Boundn

The Classical Greeks placed a very high value on drama. A dramatic competition was included in the Olympic Games - in stark contrast to the purely physical contests included in the modern Olympics - and Aristotle set himself the task (in the Poetics) of analyzing what made successful drama. Still, only about 50 Greek tragedies have survived the nearly 2,500 years that have elapsed since the heyday of the Greeks.

This volume contains all surviving surviving plays by Aeschylus. A couple of the entries ring hollow to modern ears (or at least to my modern ears). The dramatic scenario of The Suppliant Maidens, concerning 40 young women who flee from Egypt to avoid being forced to marry their cousins, is far enough from modern concerns that it comes off flat. This play also isn't helped by the fact that it was the first play of a three-play trilogy, the remaining two of which have been lost. As a result, we can't see the full development of the drama. Similarly, Seven Against Thebes consists largely of descriptions of the armor and heraldry of the participants. While the ancients no doubt were familiar with this type of material, and considered it dramatic and entertaining, it does not possess the same interest for modern readers.

The remaining five plays, however, retain their power even 2,500 years after they were written. The Persians is notable as the only surviving Greek tragedy that dealt with then-current events rather than mythological characters and stories. (The play is set at the Persian Emperor's court in the immediate aftermath of Greece's great naval victory at Salamis, which saved Greece from Persian overlordship.) The play treats the Persians as defeated heroes on a par with the mythological Trojans, or Greece's own heroes. This empathetic portrayal of Greece's mortal enemy, written not long after Greece's desperate battles against the invading Persians, is truly stunning.

Prometheus Bound is based on the legend of Prometheus, the Titan who took pity on mankind and gave them the secret of fire (i.e. science and technology), and was punished by Zeus for this act of charity by being chained to a rock and tormented by a giant bird which tore out and ate his liver, only to return the next day and repeat the whole agonizing scenario after the liver had grown back. (Titans being immortal, their organs were able to regenerate.) The play is a political allegory, with Zeus standing in for the tyrants and would-be tyrants jostling for power in Athens. In addition to being powerful drama, and non-traditional in that it completely ignores Aristotle's rules for successful drama, this play is noteworthy for the contempt it heaps on Zeus in his role as tyrant. Clearly, Aeschylus did not worship the Olympian gods, and apparently enough of the public had joined him to allow the play to avoid the charge of sacrilege.

The Oresteian Trilogy (Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, and The Eumenides) is most powerful of all. These plays concern Agamemnon, the mythical king who was appointed to lead the Greek assault on Troy. When the Greeks offended one of the Gods - something which happened all the time in Greek mythology - the Greek fleet was becalmed. Eventually, Agamemnon, as commander, was informed by an oracle that he would have to sacrifice his beloved daughter Iphegenia to appease the God. Faced with this fatal choice, Agamemnon killed Iphegenia, enabling the Greeks to proceed with their attack on Troy and setting the stage for the action of the plays. The trilogy is a cycle of sin, revenge that itself is sinful and leads to still more violence, and ultimate redemption. It is powerful stuff which has fascinated, thrilled, and appalled men and women for over 2,500 years, and much longer than that if one goes back to the original myths.