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Aeschylus is the father of tragedy. Of his estimated 92 plays, only six confirmed works have survived to the present day (with another possible, Prometheus Bound, whose authorship is now uncertain, but once was credited to Aeschylus). Of these six, the earliest is The Persians, a notable play in that it is the only extant Greek tragedy based on contemporary events, though he was not the first to do so.
In 480 BCE the Battle of Salamis ripped through the strait between Piraeus and Salamis Island. The Greek city states and Persia battling over territory came finally to this decisive battle – an event that shaped not only the futures of Greece and Persia, but some historians argue the rest of Western Civilisation as it allowed for the preservation of Athenian democracy. Aeschylus was recalled to military service in 480 BCE became a part of the Greek force at Salamis, and fought the Persians. Eight years later, with memories of this battle still on his mind, he dramatised this now famous conflict in his play, The Persians. It is unique not only for being the only extant Greek tragedy based on contemporary events, but that Aeschylus took the opposing view. The Persians is seen from King Xerxes’s point of view.
The Persians was the second part of a trilogy (the first part had been called Phineus and can be presumed to detail Jason and the Argonauts rescue of King Phineus; the second part was Glaucus, and concerned itself either with a mythical Corinthian king or a Boeotian farmer) and won the first prize at the City Dionysia festival in 472BCE at Athens. The Persians cast Xerxes’s defeat as divine retribution for attempting to build a bridge across the Hellespont, and given Aeschylus’s apparent love of connected trilogies, one can also assume that the two missing plays concern themselves in some fashion with that theme.
The Persians is set in Susa, and a chorus of old men are joined by the Queen Mother Atossa, awaiting news of her son King Xerxes campaign against the Greeks. The chorus tell us of Xerxes’s ambitious plans.
However, the arrival of a messenger, and his detailed and gory description of the Battle of Salamis:
“But since the multitude of our ships was crowded in the narrows, and they could give no assistance the one to the other but [on the contrary] were rammed by the brazen-pointed beaks of their friends, they splintered their whole equipment of oars, the Greek ships, too, all around them noting their opportunity, kept charging them on every side, and the hulls of our vessels began to be capsized nor was the sea any longer visible, so choked was it with wrecks and slaughtered men ; and the shores and the reefs were full of them.” (p.53)
The Persians have been defeated, and Aeschylus, not missing a trick, allows a brief flurry of Greek patriotism, with the now famous cry:
“Sons of the Greeks, advance! Deliver your country, deliver your children and your wives, the temples of your fathers’ gods, the tombs of your ancestors. Now is the contest which decides all!” (p.52 – 3)
At the tomb of her dead husband Darius, Atossa summons his ghost, and Darius condemns the hubris of his son. Before departing Darius foretells of another Persian defeat at the Battle of Plataea (479BCE).
Xerxes’s arrives home, crushed by the defeat, and laments the future of his once great nation, and the failures that are to come. This final section of the play has led some to read it as being sympathetic to the Persians loss, revealing a deeper humanity within Aeschylus, whilst others have read it as a deeper celebration of one Greek victory in a brutal ongoing war. This second reading could bring in claims of xenophobia on Aeschylus’s part – but in a time of conflict, hatred of one’s enemy is natural.
The Persians became an important play, often having revivals in Greek culture, and seventy years after its premiere, it is still being referenced in Greek theatre. It is a play that also became popular in the Roman Empire and the Byzantine Empire. Aeschylus’s form of tragedy transcended its national boundaries, to become a true work of art. In 1993, Robert Auletta wrote and Peter Sellars directed a new version of The Persians, which articulated the play as a response to the Gulf War of 1990-1991, proving again the versatility of Aeschylus’s work.
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The Suppliants is the first part of a lost trilogy that would have included the works The Egyptians and The Daughters of Danaus. As such, The Suppliants reads as an introduction to a larger work, and ends openly, with very few of its narrative threads resolved.
The Danaids are the fifty daughters of Danaus, and they serve as the chorus and the protagonists of The Suppliants. The Danaids are to be wed to their Egyptian cousins, but flee, and when they reach Argos plead for King Pelasgus to protect them.
King Pelasgus refuses them this request, pending the decision of the Argive people, but the people consent, and the Danaids praise the Greek gods. Then a herald of the Egyptians attempts to force the Danaids to return to their cousins for marriage, and so King Pelasgus threatens the herald and offers his protection to the women, who retreat behind Argive walls, and here the play ends.
Reconstructions of the remainder of this trilogy have it that following a war with the Egyptians, Pelasgus has been killed, and Danaus becomes tyrant of Argos. His daughters are forced into the marriage, but Danaus instructs his daughters to kill their husbands on their wedding night following a prophecy. All obey their father except Hypermnestra, whose husband Lynceus flees but later returns and murders Danaus and takes the throne with Hypermnestra. Lynceus must now decide how to punish the murderous Danaids – only with the last minute intervention of Aphrodite absolving the women of their crimes, does the play close with the Danaids marrying forty-nine local Argive men.
As an introduction to this story, The Suppliants works well. The poetry of Aeschylus’s language is more discernable here than it was in Seven against Thebes, and he uses the chorus in a much more innovative fashion than previously. The true extent of Aeschylus’s work here cannot be completed however, due to the bulk of it being missing. There is one speech from Aphrodite that is extant, and from it one can deduce that the third play at least would concern itself somewhat with the redemptive nature of love. Another of Aeschylus’s themes comes through somewhat unclearly in this first part, but would become evident in the third, and that is that society must be based upon reason. Finally there is his slight distorting of the myth for public consumption – one of the issues of the original myth was that the Danaids viewed the proposed union as incestuous, but as the Greeks thought nothing of marrying their cousins, Aeschylus downplays this issue in his retelling.
The Suppliants marks the beginning of what may have been a strong trilogy from Aeschylus – the anthropological interest of early Egyptian society being represented by a Greek alone would be fascinating – but we shall have to live with this fragment alone.
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Like The Persians, Seven against Thebes is part of a trilogy of which the other two parts are missing. In this instance, Seven against Thebes would have been paired with Laius and Oedipus, forming a connected Oedipus trilogy. Seven against Thebes marks the first known appearance of Aeschylus’s interest in the polis (the city) being a vital development of human civilisation.
Etreocles and Polynices are the sons of the King of Thebes, Oedipus. Oedipus is resigning the throne, and so decides that his sons will alternate the throne of the city, but after a year Etreocles refuses to step down, so Polynices wages war to claim the crown, with the help of the eponymous seven.
Seven against Thebes has very little plot, but is instead constructed around a series of monologues in which a scout describes each of the seven and the devices on their respective shields.
The brother go on to kill each other in combat, and Aeschylus’s original ending, was of lamentation for these fallen men.
“Brothers indeed, and now utterly destroyed by wounds unkind in frenzied strife as a termination to their feud. Their hatred is stilled, and their life-blood is mingled with the gory dust: thus are they united by blood indeed.” (p.104)
A sudden shift in tone and style at this point in the play reveals another ending attached, some fifty years later. Antigone and Ismeme mourn their dead brothers when a messenger enters announcing an edict prohibiting the burial of Polynices. Antigone declares her intention to defy this edict. This ending was attached to capitalise on the popularity of Sophocles’ Antigone.
Seven against Thebes is a play that has caused some consternation for historians. Archaeologists have been trying to reconcile the “seven-gated Thebes” with the actual city of Thebes which had fewer entrance points than that. Some postulate that the number seven may have been chosen for symmetry, or to refer to some other myth. Nobody is quite sure.
Of all Aeschylus’s work, I find Seven against Thebes the least well formed. Its construction is dramatically unconvincing, and although his language is as rich as before, the vital element of surprise is missing from this work. Seven against Thebes seems obvious and therefore duller than his other works. Nevertheless, we are lucky that it survives – for so little of Aeschylus’s work does – and to criticise so great a playwright seems a little disserving.
In 480 BCE the Battle of Salamis ripped through the strait between Piraeus and Salamis Island. The Greek city states and Persia battling over territory came finally to this decisive battle – an event that shaped not only the futures of Greece and Persia, but some historians argue the rest of Western Civilisation as it allowed for the preservation of Athenian democracy. Aeschylus was recalled to military service in 480 BCE became a part of the Greek force at Salamis, and fought the Persians. Eight years later, with memories of this battle still on his mind, he dramatised this now famous conflict in his play, The Persians. It is unique not only for being the only extant Greek tragedy based on contemporary events, but that Aeschylus took the opposing view. The Persians is seen from King Xerxes’s point of view.
The Persians was the second part of a trilogy (the first part had been called Phineus and can be presumed to detail Jason and the Argonauts rescue of King Phineus; the second part was Glaucus, and concerned itself either with a mythical Corinthian king or a Boeotian farmer) and won the first prize at the City Dionysia festival in 472BCE at Athens. The Persians cast Xerxes’s defeat as divine retribution for attempting to build a bridge across the Hellespont, and given Aeschylus’s apparent love of connected trilogies, one can also assume that the two missing plays concern themselves in some fashion with that theme.
The Persians is set in Susa, and a chorus of old men are joined by the Queen Mother Atossa, awaiting news of her son King Xerxes campaign against the Greeks. The chorus tell us of Xerxes’s ambitious plans.
However, the arrival of a messenger, and his detailed and gory description of the Battle of Salamis:
“But since the multitude of our ships was crowded in the narrows, and they could give no assistance the one to the other but [on the contrary] were rammed by the brazen-pointed beaks of their friends, they splintered their whole equipment of oars, the Greek ships, too, all around them noting their opportunity, kept charging them on every side, and the hulls of our vessels began to be capsized nor was the sea any longer visible, so choked was it with wrecks and slaughtered men ; and the shores and the reefs were full of them.” (p.53)
The Persians have been defeated, and Aeschylus, not missing a trick, allows a brief flurry of Greek patriotism, with the now famous cry:
“Sons of the Greeks, advance! Deliver your country, deliver your children and your wives, the temples of your fathers’ gods, the tombs of your ancestors. Now is the contest which decides all!” (p.52 – 3)
At the tomb of her dead husband Darius, Atossa summons his ghost, and Darius condemns the hubris of his son. Before departing Darius foretells of another Persian defeat at the Battle of Plataea (479BCE).
Xerxes’s arrives home, crushed by the defeat, and laments the future of his once great nation, and the failures that are to come. This final section of the play has led some to read it as being sympathetic to the Persians loss, revealing a deeper humanity within Aeschylus, whilst others have read it as a deeper celebration of one Greek victory in a brutal ongoing war. This second reading could bring in claims of xenophobia on Aeschylus’s part – but in a time of conflict, hatred of one’s enemy is natural.
The Persians became an important play, often having revivals in Greek culture, and seventy years after its premiere, it is still being referenced in Greek theatre. It is a play that also became popular in the Roman Empire and the Byzantine Empire. Aeschylus’s form of tragedy transcended its national boundaries, to become a true work of art. In 1993, Robert Auletta wrote and Peter Sellars directed a new version of The Persians, which articulated the play as a response to the Gulf War of 1990-1991, proving again the versatility of Aeschylus’s work.
--
The Suppliants is the first part of a lost trilogy that would have included the works The Egyptians and The Daughters of Danaus. As such, The Suppliants reads as an introduction to a larger work, and ends openly, with very few of its narrative threads resolved.
The Danaids are the fifty daughters of Danaus, and they serve as the chorus and the protagonists of The Suppliants. The Danaids are to be wed to their Egyptian cousins, but flee, and when they reach Argos plead for King Pelasgus to protect them.
King Pelasgus refuses them this request, pending the decision of the Argive people, but the people consent, and the Danaids praise the Greek gods. Then a herald of the Egyptians attempts to force the Danaids to return to their cousins for marriage, and so King Pelasgus threatens the herald and offers his protection to the women, who retreat behind Argive walls, and here the play ends.
Reconstructions of the remainder of this trilogy have it that following a war with the Egyptians, Pelasgus has been killed, and Danaus becomes tyrant of Argos. His daughters are forced into the marriage, but Danaus instructs his daughters to kill their husbands on their wedding night following a prophecy. All obey their father except Hypermnestra, whose husband Lynceus flees but later returns and murders Danaus and takes the throne with Hypermnestra. Lynceus must now decide how to punish the murderous Danaids – only with the last minute intervention of Aphrodite absolving the women of their crimes, does the play close with the Danaids marrying forty-nine local Argive men.
As an introduction to this story, The Suppliants works well. The poetry of Aeschylus’s language is more discernable here than it was in Seven against Thebes, and he uses the chorus in a much more innovative fashion than previously. The true extent of Aeschylus’s work here cannot be completed however, due to the bulk of it being missing. There is one speech from Aphrodite that is extant, and from it one can deduce that the third play at least would concern itself somewhat with the redemptive nature of love. Another of Aeschylus’s themes comes through somewhat unclearly in this first part, but would become evident in the third, and that is that society must be based upon reason. Finally there is his slight distorting of the myth for public consumption – one of the issues of the original myth was that the Danaids viewed the proposed union as incestuous, but as the Greeks thought nothing of marrying their cousins, Aeschylus downplays this issue in his retelling.
The Suppliants marks the beginning of what may have been a strong trilogy from Aeschylus – the anthropological interest of early Egyptian society being represented by a Greek alone would be fascinating – but we shall have to live with this fragment alone.
--
Like The Persians, Seven against Thebes is part of a trilogy of which the other two parts are missing. In this instance, Seven against Thebes would have been paired with Laius and Oedipus, forming a connected Oedipus trilogy. Seven against Thebes marks the first known appearance of Aeschylus’s interest in the polis (the city) being a vital development of human civilisation.
Etreocles and Polynices are the sons of the King of Thebes, Oedipus. Oedipus is resigning the throne, and so decides that his sons will alternate the throne of the city, but after a year Etreocles refuses to step down, so Polynices wages war to claim the crown, with the help of the eponymous seven.
Seven against Thebes has very little plot, but is instead constructed around a series of monologues in which a scout describes each of the seven and the devices on their respective shields.
The brother go on to kill each other in combat, and Aeschylus’s original ending, was of lamentation for these fallen men.
“Brothers indeed, and now utterly destroyed by wounds unkind in frenzied strife as a termination to their feud. Their hatred is stilled, and their life-blood is mingled with the gory dust: thus are they united by blood indeed.” (p.104)
A sudden shift in tone and style at this point in the play reveals another ending attached, some fifty years later. Antigone and Ismeme mourn their dead brothers when a messenger enters announcing an edict prohibiting the burial of Polynices. Antigone declares her intention to defy this edict. This ending was attached to capitalise on the popularity of Sophocles’ Antigone.
Seven against Thebes is a play that has caused some consternation for historians. Archaeologists have been trying to reconcile the “seven-gated Thebes” with the actual city of Thebes which had fewer entrance points than that. Some postulate that the number seven may have been chosen for symmetry, or to refer to some other myth. Nobody is quite sure.
Of all Aeschylus’s work, I find Seven against Thebes the least well formed. Its construction is dramatically unconvincing, and although his language is as rich as before, the vital element of surprise is missing from this work. Seven against Thebes seems obvious and therefore duller than his other works. Nevertheless, we are lucky that it survives – for so little of Aeschylus’s work does – and to criticise so great a playwright seems a little disserving.