by Thomas; Kohn
The king takes center stage, and the two servants retreat to the side, cowering and watching in horror, as Oedipus begins a monologue (868). He addresses an unidentified group of citizens (congerite, cives, 871). It could be the Chorus, or perhaps some mute citizens who have been looking on. It is hard to tell, since nobody obeys Oedipus’ commands to come together and hurl rocks at his head (saxa in infandum caput mactate telis, 871–72). Finally, he announces his second exit from the stage (i, perge, propero regiam gressu pete, 880), leaving quickly through the center doors leading to the palace following line 881. His destination will be confirmed by the royal Servant in the next act (regiam petens, 917), along with his pace (propero gradu, 918). Phorbas and the Old Corinthian, still in shock, also exit here via the wing leading to the forum. Clearly they would not go into the palace with Oedipus; and it makes more sense for them to go into town in search of people than to go out into the countryside.
FOURTH CHORAL SONG (882–914)
The Chorus, alone on the stage, steps forward to sing in glyconics at line 882. It hears something (sed quid hoc? 911), indicating a sound cue: it is the center doors, creaking while opening (postes sonant, 911). A Servant from the palace (actor C) enters via the center doors, sad and beating his head with his hand (maestus et famulus manu regius quassat caput, 912–13). The Chorus, still using glyconics, addresses him (ede quid portes novi, 914). It will take an active role from now until Jocasta's death, and so stays downstage, not returning to the scaenae frons.
ACT 5 (915–79)
Action unit: (1) A Messenger (Servant) from the palace tells the Chorus about Oedipus’ self-blinding.
The Servant responds to the Chorus’ question, reverting back to trimeter at line 915. His account of Oedipus’ blinding is extremely vivid;49 but we should not imagine that it is being silently acted out onstage as the Servant speaks. The previously mentioned performance of this play at Grand Valley State University did, in fact, feature the miming of the blinding. And while it was quite effective for a modern audience, ancient spectators would have found it gratuitous. Once the Servant finishes his report at line 979, he falls silent and exits. It is uncertain whether he would go through the center doors back into the palace, or whether, being so upset by the events he has just recounted, he goes off through the wing leading to the forum. Since it is unclear why he entered in the first place,50 either is a possibility.
FIFTH CHORAL SONG (980–97)
The stunned Chorus sings one final song, this time in anapests, beginning at line 980. It is already downstage, and so does not have to move. At the conclusion, there is a sound cue as the center doors once again make a noise while opening (sonuere fores, 995). Oedipus himself enters alone (ipse suum duce non ullo molitur iter, 995–96). This stage direction does not simply inform the audience that he is accompanied neither by Jocasta, his usual mute attendants, nor even one or both of his daughters; it is also a note about characterization: the king is horribly and irrevocably alone, providing contrast to the blind Tiresias, who was led by Manto. Like Tiresias, however, Oedipus is now blind (luminis orbus, 997, and vacuosque vultus, 1012). The actor may wear a different mask that indicates his new ocular status, and may support himself with a staff.
ACT 6 (998–1061)
Action units: (1) Oedipus laments. (2) Jocasta confronts him, (3) and then kills herself onstage. (4) Oedipus exiles himself.
Most scholars who make act divisions label line 911 to the end as act 5.51 If, however, we accept Aristotle's definition of an act (i.e., ) as the material between choral songs (Poetica 1452b20–21), then act 5 must end with the ode at lines 980–94, and lines 995–1061 must be regarded as a sixth act.
Oedipus begins to speak at line 998, in trimeter as would be expected. The Chorus again stays where it is. At lines 1004–9 the Chorus speaks, in trimeter, within an act for the first time in this play.
Jocasta enters through the center doors from the palace, quickly and frenzied, indeed leaping out (en ecce! rapido saeva prosiluit gradu Jocasta vaecors, 1004–5). In fact, she is compared to Agave, the raving maenad who killed her own child, Pentheus (1005–7).52
Jocasta hesitates to speak to the troubled Oedipus (dubitat afflictum alloqui, 1007), both wanting to address him, and yet being afraid to (cupit pavetque, 1008). When at last she does say something, she breaks in midline, indicating delay, and addressing Oedipus directly, using the second-person pronoun (quid te vocem? 1009). The king, however, turns his head away from Jocasta in shame (quo avertis caput, 1011), eventually showing his own desire for delay by interrupting in the middle of line 1012. Oedipus extends his hands in prayer in the direction of Jocasta (precor, 1021).
At last, Jocasta can bear no more and begs for Oedipus’ sword (rapiatur ensis, 1034), pointing to it (hoc ferro, 1034). She points to where she wants her right hand to pierce her belly (hunc, dextra, hunc pete uterum, 1038–39), before fatally wounding herself. The Chorus, speaking for a second and final time within an act, describes Jocasta's death, as she falls to the ground, having stabbed herself (iacet perempta, 1040). She bleeds so much53 that the sword pops out of her wound (ferrumque secum nimius eiecit cruor, 1041). This is another instance where the original audience would believe an action to have happened without realistic effects; however, in the Grand Valley State University production of this play, a spate of stage blood accompanied the prop sword clattering to the stage. I found the effect a little silly and over the top. But a number of my fellow audience members gasped in horror, showing its potential effectiveness. After this, the Chorus falls silent and withdraws to the scaenae frons.
For the rest of the play, Oedipus shares center stage with Jocasta's corpse. He speaks at line 1042, undoubtedly pausing first. Oedipus trembles (pavitante gressu, 1047, and tremente dextera, 1049) as he prepares to depart (ingredere, i, profuge, vade, 1050–51), not only from the stage, but also from Thebes itself. Nevertheless, he warns himself to proceed carefully so that he does not trip over Jocasta's corpse (siste, ne in matrem incidas, 1051). This has struck some as poor taste, and yet, describes exactly what happened when Oedipus first came to Thebes: he was not paying attention, and so “fell upon” his mother's body.54 Oedipus finally exits after line 1061, going through the wing that leads out of town, leaving behind a dead Jocasta and a silent Chorus.
Conclusions
Seneca's play clearly owes much to Sophocles’ drama (ca. 430 BCE). The basic structure is the same, and such details as the plague and the indictment and imprisonment of Creon remain. Seneca has added the vivid description of Delphi, as well as the extispicium and necromancy, and has given Tiresias a speaking companion. There were a number of other Greek versions of the story;55 but the only known Roman dramatic rendition is one that Gaius Julius Caesar composed as a youth.56
Stage business in this play is extremely helpful for interpreting the characters. The fact that Oedipus is onstage for most of the play serves to underscore his importance to the plot.57 And even when he is not present, the audience is reminded of him, by the address of the Chorus at line 709 and by the Servant's account of his self-blinding at lines 915–79. Clearly, Oedipus is the central figure of the drama, not only standing apart from the others in importance, but also literally remaining isolated. The other characters help to reinforce Oedipus’ status as a loner. Jocasta makes only brief appearances in acts 1 and 4, saying what she needs to in order to help her husband, and then exits. Her role is so auxiliary and dependent on Oedipus that her entrances and exits are not marked. The pattern changes in act 6, when the Chorus announces her entrance; she has a longer exchange with Oedipus, and then does not leave physically, but kills herself onstage. This change is appropriate, since her status has changed; she is no longer Oedipus’ wife, but now his mother, and thus it is not unexpected that she behaves differently.
Tiresias and Manto together also serve to emphasize Oedipus’ isolation. The king and the blind seer have much in common.58 But Tiresias is accompanied by his daughter, whereas Oedipus is tragical
ly alone. So important is this comparison that Seneca apparently violates the rule of three actors in order to bring on Manto with Tiresias, while keeping Oedipus and Creon present as well. We also see this contrasting pairing again in act 4, when the Old Corinthian and Phorbas the shepherd cower together in silence while the lone Oedipus bemoans his fate; presumably, the two comfort each other, while the king has no one to turn to for support. The closest Oedipus comes to a partner is Creon, who is onstage longer than anyone besides his brother-in-law, and with whom he engages in verbal play, intertwining vocabulary and syntax. But the king is constantly sending him away: to Delphi before the play begins, to the necromancy with Tiresias and Manto, and finally to a cave.
The play is also filled with abnormalities. Sutton notes, with apparent surprise, that “[w]ith one exception, characters are clearly identified in the text with their first appearance.”59 The “one exception” is the Old Corinthian, and it soon becomes clear who he must be. Even the Chorus is identified, to a degree unusual for Senecan tragedy, and it takes on the role of frequently announcing entrances. Further, most exits are also announced. All this must contribute to the theme of puzzle-solving. The play itself is largely about Oedipus figuring out who killed Laius. Many of the clues are obvious, to one who knows what to look for, but Oedipus seems to refuse to recognize the uncomfortable truths. Similarly, the obvious information—the identity of the characters, when most of them enter and exit—is clearly stated. But the movements of Jocasta the wife, and the exits of those characters who delivered unpleasant news—the Old Corinthian, Phorbas, the Servant—are unremarked upon, as if by not mentioning them their information can be ignored.
Further unusual dramaturgical elements include a sixth act, the abundance of sound cues, the onstage altar, the fact that the Chorus speaks within the final act, as well as its second song that serves to kill time while the necromancy is performed. Separately, none of these things are out of the realm of possibility for a Roman tragedy, in the same way that any one or two of the details Manto reports during the extispicium would be dire. But together they build to tell the audience, if not the characters, that all in Thebes is not what it seems.
CHAPTER 3
Agamemnon
One actor is assigned only the role of Clytemnestra, who appears in acts 2, 3, and 5, and speaks with all the other characters except the Ghost of Thyestes and Agamemnon. Elsewhere, I argue that the festa coniunx who, according to the Chorus, accompanies Agamemnon in the fourth act (780–81) is not Clytemnestra, but Cassandra.1 Briefly, it is both unprecedented and also makes little sense for Clytemnestra to enter from the palace, go to Agamemnon as he enters via the wing leading to the harbor, walk back to center stage with him, and then exit back into the center doors, all without saying a word. On the other hand, Cassandra is already onstage and will remain after Agamemnon leaves. She more closely fits the description festa in the sense of engaging in sacred rites, since she is wearing fillets, has been called the priestess of Apollo, and in fact was just possessed by the god. And in the eyes of the Trojan captives who speak the words, Cassandra is Agamemnon's mate. Thus, Clytemnestra does not appear in act 4, although the actor would be available.
A second actor is assigned the Nurse, who almost succeeds in dissuading Clytemnestra from killing her husband, and Cassandra, who has apparently been sleeping with Agamemnon. Thus, this second actor gets female roles that are particularly attached to the king: one who tries to save his life, and the other who is physically bonded to him.
A third actor gets all the male roles: the Ghost of Thyestes, Aegisthus, the herald Eurybates, Agamemnon, and Strophius.2 This gender specialization, both in this play and in the Phaedra, helps to create an interesting dynamic. But equally intriguing is the fact that all of the male roles, aside from Eurybates, are related: Thyestes is the father of Aegisthus and uncle of Agamemnon, while Strophius is married to Anaxibia, the sister of Agamemnon.3 And it would not be too much of a stretch to consider Eurybates, Agamemnon's herald, as a member of his household and symbolically part of his family.
One character remains unaccounted for. At the end of the play, Cassandra, Electra, Clytemnestra, and Aegisthus are all onstage and talking. A fourth actor, then, is required for Electra,4 just as one is needed for Manto in the second act of the Oedipus. In addition, two mute actors are necessary to portray the silent Orestes and Pylades in act 5.
The parodos gives no indication of the identity of the Chorus, but the parallel of Aeschylus’ Agamemnon would suggest elders of Mycenae.5 The second song, however, seems to contain clues. Tarrant states that “[t]he second choral song, unlike the first, is linked to a specific persona, a chorus of Argive maidens.”6 This assertion is founded upon lines 310–14, where unmarried Inachian girls (innuba stirps Inachia, 314) are said to perform various actions in honor of Phoebus. Thus, the Chorus would don crowns (caput coronat, 311), shake laurel branches (laurum quatiens, 312), and let down its maidenly locks (virgineas comas fudit, 312–14).7 Tarrant, however, notes that “[t]he change from command in 310 to description of the chorus’ actions in 311–15” is problematic; he goes on to not so much explain the change as search fruitlessly for parallels.8 The following lines (315–21) then order other peoples to join their dances (nostros comitare choros, 315–16). The nostros further suggests that the Chorus is performing the acts it describes. Later, the Chorus calls itself Mycenaean and worshippers of Juno (tua te colimus turba Mycenae, 342). This confirms that they are Argives, but does not mandate their being young girls. The following stanza describes a number of rites performed for Juno, but which are probably not happening onstage during this song: the offering of victory wreaths in honor of Agamemnon (tu nunc laurus Agamemnonias accipe victrix, 346–47); the playing of hymns on a flute (tibi multifora tibia buxo sollemne canit, 348) and lyre (tibi fila movent docta puellae carmine molli, 349–50); the hurling of sacred torches (tibi votivam matres Graiae lampada iactant, 351–52); and finally, Clytemnestra's sacrifice of a bull (353–55). None of these actions occur onstage. The next stanza, addressed to Pallas, likewise speaks of rites that are not presently being performed (359–67). Nor does the audience see the worship of Diana (380–81), nor that of Jupiter (382–87). Since the later rites are not actually performed, I have trouble assuming that the earlier ones are. Instead, this entire hymn is a description of the kinds of activities that ought to be carried out once Agamemnon gets home.9 And while it is tempting to see the innuba stirps Inachia of line 314 as a self-identification, how can we accept that and at the same time reject the matres Graiae (351), the permixto matrona minor maiorque choro (359–60), and the grandaevi lassique senes (364)? The only definite identification is that found at line 342: tua te colimus turba Mycenae, which indicates only that the Chorus consists of Mycenaeans, but their age, gender, and marital status remains unclear.
Toward the end of the third act, Clytemnestra announces the arrival of a group of Trojan women (sed ecce! turba tristis incomptae comas Iliades adsunt, 586–87). Its identity is confirmed, first by the Chorus itself (Iliades, 655), and then by Cassandra (Troades, 660). This group sings the third ode in cantica polymetra; it also interacts with Cassandra in the following scene, using both anapests and iambic trimeter. Clearly, the Chorus has taken on a new identity of captives brought from Troy by Agamemnon.10 There is no reason to doubt the Chorus’ previous self-identification as Mycenaeans. The earlier songs definitely betrayed Achaean sympathies, and a crowd of captive Trojan women would not have appeared onstage before Agamemnon's arrival was announced. Nor is there any reason to think that the actual members of the Chorus are different. Instead, the same singers are simply wearing different masks; only the persona of the Chorus has changed. Thus, we must assume that the first Chorus of Argives exits at some point, probably shortly after the arrival of Eurybates at lines 388–91. It must guess what the soldier's presence portends—the long-awaited return of Agamemnon. Instead of waiting to hear Eurybates’ story, it goes to meet the king. Agamemnon then must
send his captive slaves ahead of him. This Chorus then remains onstage11 and retains the persona of Trojan women for the rest of the play.
Tarrant and Davis, on the contrary, maintain that the Chorus of Mycenaeans sings the fourth choral song;12 and Sutton and Davis, would then keep both Choruses, Achaean and Trojan, onstage for the rest of the play.13 Tarrant states that the fourth “ode is sung by the Argive chorus; the chorus of Trojan captives would hardly choose this moment to glorify Hercules, and, through him, Argos.”14 Davis, on the other hand, says the song is “curiously unenthusiastic about Agamemnon,” and points out that the Trojan Chorus “had already drawn a comparison between Hercules and Agamemnon to the latter's disadvantage (614f.).” He seems to assign the song to the Mycenaeans because he believes the captive maidens exit with Cassandra in the middle of act 5, but is not happy with the arrangement, noting “an inexplicable inconsistency between Odes 2 and 4.”15 This inconsistency, however, only exists if the same Chorus sings both. The fourth song is far from the lavish praise of Argos that Tarrant would have us believe, and by no means is it out of character for the Trojan women. Further, there is no indication that either the Chorus or Cassandra exits after line 909, especially since she speaks again at 1004. Finally, even if each Chorus consists of as few as three performers,16 having two such groups onstage, along with Electra, Strophius, and the two mute boys in the second section, and four speaking actors with the necessary mute attendants at the end, would be intolerably crowded. There is no good reason to have both a Chorus of Argives and a Chorus of Trojans onstage at the same time. It is most sensible to think, therefore, that there is only one Chorus, which portrays citizens of Mycenae when it first appears, and which later exits to return as captive Trojan women and remains in that persona for the rest of the play.