Aeschylus

Rory Mullarkey

He who learns must suffer. Before setting out for the Trojan War, King Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia. Many years later, when Agamemnon returns to his palace, his adulterous Queen Clytemnestra takes her revenge by brutally murdering him and installing her lover on the throne. How will the gods judge Orestes, their estranged son, who must avenge his father's death by murdering his mother? The curse of the House of Atreus, passing from generation to generation, is one of the great myths of Western literature. In the hands of Aeschylus, the story enacts the final victory of reason and justice over superstition and barbarity. The original trilogy, comprising Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers and Eumenides, is distilled into one thrilling three-act play in this magnificent new translation by award-winning playwright Rory Mullarkey.

The Oresteia

One of the founding documents of Western culture and the only surviving ancient Greek trilogy, the Oresteia of Aeschylus is one of the great tragedies of all time. The three plays of the Oresteia portray the bloody events that follow the victorious return of King Agamemnon from the Trojan War, at the start of which he had sacrificed his daughter Iphigeneia to secure divine favor. After Iphi-geneia’s mother, Clytemnestra, kills her husband in revenge, she in turn is murdered by their son Orestes with his sister Electra’s encouragement. Orestes is pursued by the Furies and put on trial, his fate decided by the goddess Athena. Far more than the story of murder and ven-geance in the royal house of Atreus, the Oresteia serves as a dramatic parable of the evolution of justice and civilization that is still powerful after 2,500 years. The trilogy is presented here in George Thomson’s classic translation, renowned for its fidelity to the rhythms and richness of the original Greek.

Agamemnon; The Libation Bearers; The Eumenides

aybüke

these obscenities! - I’ve caught them, beaten them down with sleep. They disgust me. These grey, ancient children never touched by god, man or beast - the eternal virgins. Born for destruction only, the dark pit, they range the bowels of Earth, the world of death, loathed by men and the gods who hold Olympus.

No dreams, these torments, not to me, they’re clear, real - the hounds of mother’s hate.

No man can go through life and reach the end unharmed. Aye, trouble is now, and trouble still to come.

The truth still holds while Zeus still holds the throne:

the bad seed, the curse? The race is welded to its ruin.

the cause of all, the one who works it all.

Our lives are pain, what part not come from god?

You’re brave, believe me, full of gallant heart.

Only the wretched go with praise like that.

But if you see it coming, clearly - how can you go to your own death, like a beast to the altar driven on by god, and hold your head so high?

And Apollo’s anger never touched you? - is it possible?

Once I betrayed him I could never be believed.

The nightingale - O for a song, a fate like hers!

The gods gave her a life of ease, swathed her in wings,

no tears, no wailing. The knife waits for me.

They’ll splay me on the iron’s double edge.

Why? - what god hurls you on, stroke on stroke

Why the horror clashing through your music,

Where do your words of god and grief begin?

it’s growing, massing, deep in the house,

there is no cure, and rescue’s far away and -

God of the long road, Apollo Apollo my destroyer- you destroy me once, destroy me twice -

She’s about to sense her own ordeal, I think. Slave that she is, the god lives on inside her.

God of the iron marches, Apollo Apollo my destroyer- where, where have you led me now? what house -

Why cry to Apollo? He’s not the god to call with sounds of mourning. [...]

Again, it’s a bad omen. She cries for the god who wants no part of grief.

- only the gods deserve the pomps of honour and the stiff brocades of fame. To walk on them . . . I am human, and it makes my pulses stir with dread.

A Reading of 'The Oresteia': The Serpent and The Eagle

As Aeschylus says in a famous fragment, ‘god plants an aitia [responsibility] in a man when he wants to destroy a house entirely; nevertheless a man must not be reckless with his words.’ Agamemnon and his gods are metaitioi, co-responsible, yet there is something in this man that may rival his gods for murderous self-righteousness. It is his Atê, his frenzy and his ruin, his crime and punishment in one - ‘the madness of doom’ in Werner Jaeger’s phrase, and Agamemnon’s ruling spirit. He not only conspires with the storm that strikes the fleets, he excels it with the violence of the curse.

Before the hymn Agamemnon’s murder of Iphigeneia seemed ordained, but the hymn implicitly evokes his power of choice. He is torn for a moment - how to choose between child-murder and dereliction of duty? ‘Pain both ways and what is worse?’ It is the tragic choice of evils. And it may be predetermined supernaturally by the gods and genetically by Agamemnon’s nature - being his father’s son, he is bound to choose the worst.

Oliver Taplin

The most renowned of Aeschylus' tragedies and one of the foundational texts of Western literature, the Oresteia trilogy is about cycles of deception and brutality within the ruling family of Argos. In Agamemnon, afflicted queen Clytemnestra awaits her husband's return from war to commit a terrible act of retribution for the murder of her daughter. The next two plays, radically retitled here as The Women at the Graveside and Orestes in Athens, deal with the aftermath of the regicide, Orestes' search to avenge his father's death, and the ceaseless torment of the young prince. A powerful discourse on the formation of democracy after a period of violent chaos, The Oresteia has long illuminated the tensions between loyalty to one's family and to the greater community. Now, Oliver Taplin's "vivid and accessible translation" (Victoria Mohl) captures the lyricism of the original, in what is sure to be a classic for generations to come.

Agamemnon, Women at the Graveside, Orestes in Athens

Paige Leitner

"Well, I shall never give up harrying that man."

"Go on, pursue him; make more trouble for yourselves."

"Don't you attempt to whittle down my rights."

"I wouldn't want your rights, not even as a gift."

"Because you stand secure beside the throne of Zeus: but I am drawn on by a mother's blood, and shall pursue this man until I have exacted justice."

You patronize me like some little woman with no mind to call her own. I speak with heart devoid of fear to those with wit to understand, and you can praise me or condemn me as you like, it's all the same to me. This man is Agamemnon, yes, my spouse, and yes, a corpse, the work of this right hand of mine, this architect of justice. And that is that.

‘Cry, cry for death, but good win out in glory in the end.’ The ominous refrain beats drum-like through the opening stanzas. What glory can be wrung from so much grief?

 Aeschylus presents our lives not only as a painful series of recognitions but as an initiation into stronger states of consciousness. Perhaps most great tragedy conveys this double thrust of shattering and confirmation. Tragedy is a challenge and a trap, a vehicle for our character and our fate. It was Apollo, as Oedipus tells his friends, who multiplied his pains, ‘but the hand that struck my eyes was mine and mine alone’...

...his tragic spirit of suffering and regeneration.

 The ecstasy of Dionysus became ennobling. He became Olympian; he shared Apollo’s shrine at Delphi. The suffering god was transformed into a saviour, but not in the way of later martyrs who reject this life. Dying into life, into more coherent, vibrant forms of life was the way of Dionysus and his people.

Through Dionysus, in other words, men might be restored, not by escaping their nature but by embracing it, not by expiating their guilt but by exercising it constructively. Here was a father, an authority who challenged us to challenge him. Only by acting out our fantasies against him - by ritualistically dismembering his body and partaking of his strength - could we become ourselves, human, seasoned, strong.

A really good translation of Aeschylus' plays- Agememnon, Women at the Graveside, and Orestes at Athens. These plays focus on a different perspective than that of modern retellings (like Electra by Jennifer Saint, for example) and mainly focus on Orestes and his vengeance for his father. There is some humor in these plays, as well, which is a nice juxtaposition compared to its dark nature. 

Ceej Manaloto

Black and white and everything in between!

Would've loved to have witnessed Aeschylus' plays (esp this) at firsthand.

The Oresteia (Everyman Paperback Classics)

Zeke Taylor

vera

reread (220622)  /  how do you even rate greek tragedies? simply, you don't, so i will not (five stars in my heart). anyway, the oresteia: what did i just read and why does it resonate with me so much? do we ever have a choice in our fates or are they really so predetermined? if my father's father is cursed, what does that mean for my own bloodline? are we able to make our own choices or do we live as the gods demand us to? thinking of u, aeschylus. 

Euripides

Sophocles

A Bold, Iconoclastic New Look at One of the Great Works of Greek Tragedy In this innovative rendition of The Oresteia, the poet, translator, and essayist Anne Carson combines three different visions—Aischylos' Agamemnon, Sophokles' Elektra, and Euripides' Orestes—giving birth to a wholly new experience of the classic Greek triumvirate of vengeance. After the murder of her daughter Iphegenia by her husband Agamemnon, Klytaimestra exacts a mother's revenge, murdering Agamemnon and his mistress, Kassandra. Displeased with Klytaimestra's actions, Apollo calls on her son, Orestes, to avenge his father's death with the help of his sister Elektra. In the end, Orestes, driven mad by the Furies for his bloody betrayal of family, and Elektra are condemned to death by the people of Argos, and must justify their actions—signaling a call to change in society, a shift from the capricious governing of the gods to the rule of manmade law. Carson's accomplished rendering combines elements of contemporary vernacular with the traditional structures and rhetoric of Greek tragedy, opening up the plays to a modern audience. In addition to its accessibility, the wit and dazzling morbidity of her prose sheds new light on the saga for scholars. Anne Carson's Oresteia is a watershed translation, a death-dance of vengeance and passion not to be missed.

Agamemnon by Aiskhylos; Elektra by Sophokles; Orestes by Euripides

An Oresteia

madina

my ENAMOR...something with this play gradually lessened each play because damn that agamemnon translation will never top any of the other two. i will forever remember poor kassandra, ugh, im so.

"Where I come from people say bad shit
happening
when they mean death.
Another quaint barbarian idiom is real bad
shit happenin--
that covers blood on the floors
and a houseful of swords."

The Oresteia

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