III Euripides and the idea of the ἀγών

III
Euripides and the idea of the ἀγών
0. Introduction
The topic of this chapter is Euripides’ treatment – mainly, but not exclusively in his
so-called ‘agon’ scenes – of what I call the ‘idea of the ἀγών’: the notion, associated
in our sources especially with Protagoras, that sound policy should be based on a consideration of the ‘two opposed λόγοι’ that arise from every πρᾶγµα. Like the ὄνοµαπρᾶγµα talk discussed in the preceding chapter, agonistic terminology is distinctly
prominent in Euripidean drama: the poet is alone among the extant tragedians in consistently using such expressions as ‘ἀγὼν λόγων’ or ‘ἅµιλλα λόγων’ to refer to onstage verbal exchange.1 Euripides also appears to go further than the other tragedians
in underlining the formality of such exchanges by means of explicit headlines and interventions;2 and accordingly, modern scholarship has come up with the term ‘agon
scene’, to describe a generic template that typically consists of a pair of opposing
speeches, balancing each other both in length and in content, separated by two or
three lines from the Chorus, and frequently followed by a further stichomythic exchange between the antagonists. This ‘agon’ template seems exclusively, or (depending on the strictness of your definition) predominantly, to have been favoured by Euripides.3
1
A preliminary conspectus: Hcld 116-7 (πρὸς τοῦτον ἁγὼν ἆρα τοῦδε τοῦ λόγου | µάλιστ’ ἂν εἴη) and
160-1 (µὴ γὰρ ὡς µεθήσοµεν | δόξῃς ἀγῶνα τόνδ’ ἄτερ χαλυβδικοῦ); Med. 546 (ἅµιλλαν γὰρ σὺ
προύθηκας λόγων), Hipp. 971 (τί ταῦτα σοὶ ἁµίλλωµαι λόγων;); Suppl. 427 (ἐπεὶ δ’ ἀγῶνα καὶ σὺ
τόνδ’ ἠγωνίσω...) and 465 (τῶν µὲν ἠγωνισµένων | σοὶ µὲν δοκείτω ταῦτ’, ἐµοὶ δὲ τἀντία); Andr. 234
(τί σεµνοµυθεῖς κεἰς ἀγῶν’ ἔρχηι λόγων); Hec. 271 (τῶι µὲν δικαίωι τόνδ’ ἁµιλλῶµαι λόγον); Her.
1255 (ἄκουε δή νυν, ὡς ἁµιλληθῶ λόγοις | πρὸς νουθετήσεις σάς); Pho. 588 (οὐ λόγων ἔθ’ ἁγών); 930
(ὀρθῶς µ’ ἐρωτᾶις κεἰς ἀγῶν’ ἔρχηι λόγων); Or. 491 (†πρὸς τόνδ’ ἀγών τις σοφίας ἥκει πέρι †).
2
In this respect, it is instructive to compare E. El. 1055-6 (Electra: µέµνησο, µῆτερ, οὓς ἔλεξας
ὑστάτους | λόγους, διδοῦσα πρὸς σέ µοι παρρησίαν [‘Mind your last words, mother, in which you
granted me the right of speaking freely to you’]) with its parallel passage in S. El.: while both plays
thematise the restrictions imposed upon Electra’s speech, Euripides’ precise marking of the speech
turns and his use of quasi-technical language (παρρησία) contrasts with Sophocles’ more naturalistic
way of introducing the discussion (554-5, ἀλλ’ ἢν ἐφῆις µοι, τοῦ τεθνηκότος θ’ ὕπερ | λέξαιµ’ ὀρθῶς
κασιγνήτου θ’ ὅµου [‘If you let me, I would like to speak my mind about the dead man and my
brother’]). For the difference between Euripidean and Sophoclean practice, cf. Lloyd, Agon 8-13.
3
Lloyd, Agon 3 lists thirteen “generally recognized” agon scenes in Euripides: more inclusive defini-
tions than Lloyd’s can be found in e.g. Duchemin, AGON 39-41; Collard, ‘Formal Debates’ 60-1 (who,
like Lloyd, differentiates Euripidean from Sophoclean conflict scenes); and Dubischar, Agonszenen 447 and 53-6.
90
Chapter III
Why did Euripides foreground the idea of an ‘ἀγὼν λόγων’ in his tragedies to
this extent? It will presently appear that the ‘agon’ in Euripides is a flexible device:
the significance of any particular ἀγὼν in Euripides is determined by such variables as
its position in the dramatic structure and its embedding in the thematic concerns of a
given play, by the nature of the issue that is being debated, by the presence or absence
of a third party to ‘judge’ the proceedings, and by the characterisation of its participants – whether they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’ characters, and (most crucially for present
purposes) whether they are ‘for’ or ‘against’ the ἀγών itself. In what follows, it is not
my intention to give a complete coverage of agonistic references in Euripides, or of
every Euripidean ‘agon’ scene; instead, as I explain in section 1.1 below, I focus on
four plays, from various periods in the poet’s career, whose ‘agon’ scenes touch particularly upon the ἀγών as a model for socio-political deliberation. By the mid-420s,
the idea of an ‘ἀγὼν λόγων’ associated with Protagoras, and featured prominently in
the political theory that Thucydides ascribes to Protagoras’ associate Pericles, had
evidently become controversial enough for Aristophanes to stage, in his Clouds of
422, a parodic ἀγών between the ‘stronger’ and the ‘weaker’ λόγος; and what I hope
to show in this chapter is that in the ‘agon’ scenes of Children of Heracles (2), Suppliant Women (3), Hecuba (4) and Phoenician Women (5), Euripides can in various
ways be seen to engage with this controversy.
1. ‘agon’ scenes and the idea of the ἀγών
1.1 As was noted above, the term ‘agon scene’ is a modern one, coined by Theodor
Bergk with reference to the ‘epirrhematic’ agon encountered in the plays of Aristophanes. Only in the early 20th cent. did it catch on as a label for the characteristic
tragic construction described in the opening paragraph of this chapter;4 and in spite of
its present currency, its definition continues to be debated.5 Indeed, even within the
narrow range of what Michael Lloyd designates as the “thirteen generally recognised
agon scenes” in Euripides (cf. n.3 above), diversity is great; and this flexibility of the
‘agon’ form allows the poet to do very different things with these scenes, and with the
conventions that determine their shape and purpose.
One striking feature of Euripides’ ‘agon’ scenes is the fact that most of them
are inconclusive: what is debated in these scenes fails to affect the course of the dramatic action.6 This can clearly be seen in a batch of dramas from the 430s-early 420s.
In Hippolytus, the formal ‘agon’ takes place after Theseus has irreversibly invoked a
lethal curse upon his son: accordingly, nothing that Hippolytus can say or do in his
4
For the history of the term, cf. Nuchelmans, ‘Agon’.
5
Cf. esp. Dubischar, Agonszenen 48-52, a critique of Lloyd’s restrictive definition (cf. n.3).
6
So e.g. Lloyd, Agon 15 (“the agon in Euripides rarely achieves anything”); Conacher, ‘Rhetoric &
Relevance’ 21; Mastronarde, ‘Optimistic Rationalist’ 205-6. See also Strohm, Interpretationen 45-6,
who differentiates between early and late Euripides.
Chapter III
91
defence will have any substantial effect upon the subsequent action, and the main
dramatic purpose of the debate (as Michael Lloyd notes) is to give the fullest exposure
of the two contestants’ points of view, before the curtain definitively falls for one of
them.7 The ‘agon’ scene of Alcestis, a debate between Admetus and Pheres about the
latter’s apparent dereliction of his parental duties, similarly takes place after Alcestis
has sacrificed herself in Admetus’ stead: the scene puts Alcestis’ self-sacrifice in perspective, but does not change the course of events.8 Finally, Medea’s ‘agon’ scene occurs, not only after Jason has already deserted Medea, but also after Medea has set in
motion the train of events that will lead to Jason’s downfall by negotiating a day’s reprieve before leaving Corinth: anything she might yet have to ask of her husband is
phrased in the counterfactual mood (e.g. Med. 586-7), and Jason’s offers are emphatically rejected (e.g. 616-7). One important difference, then, between these Euripidean
‘agon’ scenes on the one hand, and the real-life judicial and deliberative ἀγῶνες on
which the poet may have modelled them on the other,9 revolves around the fact that
the tragic ‘ἀγῶνες’ are situated more or less emphatically post eventum: they are set to
clarify issues, not to create new action.
Lloyd (as cited above, n.7) extends this conclusion to Euripides’ treatment of
the ‘agon’ in general; but in doing so, he appears to elide some notable differences between the early ‘agon’ scenes discussed above and those of other Euripidean plays.
For instance, it is notable that none of the three scenes highlighted above is explicitly
introduced as a ‘contest’. To be sure, the contestants use agonistic terminology to refer to what they are doing (e.g. Hipp. 971, Med. 546, both cited in n.1 above); but no
ἀγών has been called for: Hippolytus is gradually drawn into the altercation, without
at first understanding what his father’s abstract moralising is about (esp. Hipp. 923-4);
and neither Pheres nor Jason, both of whom come with peaceful intentions, has bargained for the invective that their addresses provoke from their interlocutors. Things
are different in, e.g., the first ‘agon’ scene of Andromache, which has a quasi-judicial
setting (being located at the altar where the persecuted Andromache has sought refuge), and opens with Hermione’s assertion of her formal right, as a free Spartan, to
speak her mind about the matter at hand (147-53):10 here, it seems, a true ἀγών has
been instituted. Yet as in Hippolytus, Alcestis and Medea, the debate – evidently
7
Cf. Lloyd, Agon 43-4 (on Hipp.) and ibid. 132, where it is noted by way of a general conclusion that
“the main advantage of the agon form for Euripides was that it enabled him to give the fullest and subtlest possible account of a given point of view”.
8
For the location of Alc.’s ‘agon’ scene in the play’s dramatic structure, see esp. Lloyd, ‘Alcestis’ (also
idem, Agon 41; and Sicking, ‘Admetus’ Case’ 52-3).
9
Cf. e.g. the general remark of Lloyd, Agon 13: “the agon in Euripides evokes a variety of situations...
in which conflicting logoi competed with each other”. For the pervasive conception of judicial and deliberative procedure as an ἀγών, cf. below, section 1.2 with n.21.
10
On this passage and its use of formal rhetoric, see Lloyd, Agon 52-3. Andromache in her turn replies:
ὅµως δ’ ἐµαυτὴν οὐ προδοῦσ’ ἁλώσοµαι (Andr. 191: ‘I will not let myself be taken without defending
myself’, a markedly judicial reply – cf. Allan, Andromache 128).
92
Chapter III
‘won’ by Andromache – has no effect upon the dramatic action, since although the
contest proceeds on the assumption that Andromache stands a good chance to escape
with her life, the audience know that Menelaus is all the while plotting off-stage to
murder Andromache and her child (e.g. Andr. 66-9).11 This construction – an ‘agon’
scene set as a genuine contest, but prejudiced by stealthy plotting – can be seen to
serve a second purpose, besides offering the poet the opportunity to expose the ‘competing’ issues at the outset of his play: like Andromache’s second ‘agon’ scene, which
(again inconclusively) pits the play’s eponymous heroine against the villainous Menelaus, it juxtaposes Andromache’s exemplary role in the ἀγών against her Spartan opponents’ brazen abuse of that instution.12
We see something similar happening in a later (but equally anti-Spartan)
drama: Trojan Women of 415.13 This play’s formal ‘agon’ scene, involving Helen,
Menelaus and Hecabe, is set up with the express purpose of deciding what is to be
done with the captive Helen, who – faced with an irate husband – asks for an opportunity to argue her case (903-4). When Menelaus refuses, Hecabe steps in to say:
ἄκουσον αὐτῆς, µὴ θάνηι τοῦδ’ ἐνδεής
Μενέλαε, καὶ δὸς τοὺς ἐναντίους λόγους
ἡµῖν κατ’αὐτῆς· τῶν γὰρ ἐν Τροίαι κακῶν
οὐδὲν κάτοισθα, συντεθεὶς δ’ ὀ πᾶς λόγος
κτενεῖ νιν οὕτως ὥστε µηδαµοῦ φυγεῖν.
(Tro. 906-10)
‘Listen to her, so she won’t die deprived of her say, Menelaus, and
let me have the opposing λόγοι against her: for you know nothing of
her mischiefs in Troy, and when you put together the whole λόγος,
you are bound to kill her so that there will be no escape.’
Hecabe’s successful intervention has the paradoxical effect that this ἀγών takes place
on the express understanding that it will not affect Menelaus’s already made-up mind
that Helen must die;14 and as she predicts in the lines cited above, Hecabe scores a decisive rhetorical victory over her opponent:15 Menelaus rejects his wife’s apologia
11
This complicated situation is deployed to great dramatic effect: note esp. Andr. 163-8, where
Hermione – apparently forgetting about her father’s plotting – envisages the humiliation that she would
have to endure should Andromache be ‘acquitted’.
12
For the marked anti-Spartan tenor of these exchanges, note esp. Andr. 437: ἦ ταῦτ’ ἐν ὑµῖν τοῖς παρ’
Εὐρώται σοφά ([Andr. to Men.:] ‘Is that what counts as wise among you Eurotas-dwellers?’).
13
Anti-Spartan: cf. e.g. Tro. 208-13, where the Chorus of captive Trojan women express their prefe-
rence for being brought anywhere, but not to Sparta, ‘most hated dwelling-place of Helen’.
14
Cf. Tro. 912-3: ... τῶν σῶν δ’ οὕνεχ’, ὡς µαθῆι, λόγων | δώσω τόδ’ αὐτῆι· τῆσδε δ’ οὐ δώσω χάριν
([Menelaus to Hecabe:] ‘But know that it is because of your λόγοι that I will let her; I won’t do it for
her sake’).
15
Cf. e.g. Grube, Dramas of Euripides 293; Lee on Tro. p. xxiii (“[Hecabe’s] arguments are more co-
gent than the feeble defence of her opponent”); Goldhill, Reading 237 (Helen is defeated by “Hecuba’s
Chapter III
93
and stands by his earlier decision to punish her for her misdemeanour. Another inconclusive ‘agon’ scene, then, that ostensibly does not affect the course of the action –
but one with a curious sting in the tail, as the audience will find it difficult to forget
that the epic tradition has Helen return home safe and sound; so that, by implication,
Hecabe loses the ἀγών after all.16
Thus, we can see Euripides put different kinds of spin on the apparent ‘rule’ or
convention that his ‘agon’ scenes fail to affect the action: some are simply not positioned so as to be able to influence the course of events, since larger forces have already been set in motion – their primary purpose seems to be expository, rather than
genuinely dramatic. Others, like Andromache’s first two ἀγῶνες, are set to make a difference, but, tragically, don’t; and while Trojan Women’s ‘agon’ scene seems not to
affect the dramatic action, it does so after all, in a dramatically effective way. Of the
four plays that shall presently be discussed in detail, two have ‘agon’ scenes that (despite the ‘rule’ or convention) result in a meaningful course of action: in Children of
Heracles, the Athenian king Demophon resolves a conflict between two contestants
by heeding each side’s λόγος, and pronouncing a verdict that all parties abide by; and
in Hecuba, the eponymous heroine successfully negotiates her impunity after having
avenged herself on the treacherous Polymestor.17 The success of Children of Heracles’ ‘agon’ scene can be fairly straightforwardly interpreted by seeing it as a paradigmatic depiction of Athenian-style, proto-democratic decision-making, designed to
promote Athens as the place to go when in trouble; but that of Hecuba’s will require a
more sustained effort; as do the inconclusive ἀγῶνες of Suppliant Women and Phoenician Women. What distinguishes these plays from the ones that we have so far been
looking at is that they feature characters who take issue, precisely with the idea that
political or judicial deliberation should take the form of an ἀγών. The ‘agon’ scenes in
which these characters become enmeshed accordingly acquire a self-reflexive dimension: they are ἀγῶνες, not just about the issue at hand, but also about the ἀγὼν λόγων
itself; and accordingly, whether these ‘agon’ scenes succeed or not becomes a reflection on the feasibility of the idea of the ἀγών as a deliberative model. In what follows,
I hope to show that this reflection does not just extend to the tragic ‘ἀγών’, but also to
the ἀγών as a socio-political phenomenon.
superior reason and superior rhetorical manipulation”); for the nature of Hecabe’s victory, see esp. the
analysis of Meridor, ‘Creative Rhetoric’.
16
Lloyd, ‘Helen Scene’ 303-4 and Agon 111-2 argues that Euripides leaves open the possibility that
Helen will be punished in spite of the tradition’s weight (cf. e.g. Gregory, Education 174; Croally, Euripidean Polemic 158-9), so that Hecabe succeeds in destroying what she, rightly or wrongly, perceives
to be the ultimate cause of her misfortune; but it is perhaps more likely that the poet intended Helen’s
trial to end in yet one more humiliation for Hecabe (so e.g. Scodel, Trojan Trilogy 98-9; Meridor,
‘Creative Rhetoric’ 26-7).
17
Hcld. and Hec. are the two exceptions that Lloyd allows to the ‘rule’ cited in n.6 above (Agon 15; cf.
Collard, ‘Formal Debates’ 66).
94
Chapter III
1.2 Towards the end of the 19th cent., Burckhardt and Nietzsche perceived that agonistic metaphors pervade Greek life and thought from the earliest times onwards;18
and although their essentialist preconceptions are nowadays not widely shared,19 contemporary scholarship is still apt to point out that ‘competitiveness’ is a defining feature of Greek social behaviour in its various forms and manifestations.20 Besides this
general ‘agonism’ ingrained in Greek culture, however, political conditions in 5thcent. Athens accommodated a more specific form of the ἀγών, as procedure both in
the city’s key political institutions and in the newly instituted or reformed lawcourts
was modelled on an ‘agonistic’ template, with ‘competitors’, ‘judges’, ‘winners’ and
‘losers’:21 it is at this period in time that the Greeks’ traditional ‘agonism’ was channelled into a highly specific socio-political discourse.22
Going by the ancient testimonies, a key figure in this process was Protagoras,
who is credited in one source with being ‘the first’ to expound that there are ‘two opposed λόγοι’ that arise from every πρᾶγµα,23 and in another with ‘instituting a contest
(ἀγών) of λόγοι’.24 At first sight, neither the rather trivial notion of ‘opposed λόγοι’
18
See Burckhardt, Kulturgeschichte 3.313 (“Endlich war das ganze griechische Leben von derjenigen
Kraft belebt, welche wir als agonale im weitesten Sinne des Wortes werden kennen lernen”), ibid. 4.82114; Nietzsche, ‘Homers Wettkampf’ passim. On the cultural climate that helped shape these interpretations, cf. e.g. Momigliano, ‘L’Agonale’ and ‘Introduzzione’; O. Murray, ‘Introduction’.
19
Cf., on the reception of Burckhardt’s ideas in the study of Greek athletics and politics, e.g. Brüggen-
brock, Die Ehre 64-81; on their persistence in military studies, Dayton, Athletes of War 7-30.
20
See e.g. G.E.R. Lloyd’s contrastive discussion of ‘agonistic’ versus ‘irenic’ cultures in Adversaries
& Authorities 20-46.
21
For the extension of the word ἀγών ‘contest’, properly applicable to sports and/or warfare (cf. the in-
structive anecdote at Hdt. 9.33-5), to cover judicial deliberation, cf. e.g. A. Eum. 744 ([Orestes to
Apollo:] πῶς ἁγὼν κριθήσεται; also Eum. 677), Lys. 3.20 (the speaker complains that his opponent involved him εἰς τοιοῦτον ἀγῶνα); Isoc. 15.1 (categorical distinction between ἀγῶνες and ἐπιδείξεις )
&c. Common though it was, however, this metaphor never quite ‘died’: cf. e.g. [Andoc.] 4.2 ὁ µὲν οὖν
ἀγὼν ὁ πάρων οὐ στεφανήφορος (‘this “contest” is not for the prize of a crown’). For the ‘agonism’ of
Athenian trials, cf. e.g. Osborne, ‘Law in Action’; Cartledge, ‘Fowl Play’; Todd, Shape 160-2; Cohen,
Law, Violence 185-8.
22
For a suggestive discussion of the relationship between the 5th-cent. re-invention of ‘agonism’ and
classical-period athletic practice, cf. Hawhee, Bodily Arts (passim). Tannen, Argument Culture 3-26
discusses the prevalence of agonistic metaphors in present-day Western culture; the contingent nature
of these metaphors is foregrounded by Lakoff & Johnson, Metaphors 3-4.
23
DL 9.51 = Protagoras 80B6a, πρῶτος ἔφη δύο λόγους εἶναι περὶ παντὸς πράγµατος ἀντικειµένους
ἀλλήλοις. It seems likely that this summary had something to do with the two-book Ἀντιλογίαι or
Ἀντιλογικοί (‘Controversies’?; cf. fr. 80B5) included in Diogenes’ catalogue of Protagoras’ works, but
the connection is not made in our sources.
24
The Suda claims that Protagoras ‘invented eristic arguments (τοὺς ἐριστικοὺς λόγους εὗρε) and esta-
Chapter III
95
nor that of an ‘ἀγὼν λόγων’ seems sufficiently spectacular for them to be credited explicitly to such a purportedly avant-garde thinker as Protagoras, as our sources do; but
both these notions gain in significance when we consider them, not in isolation, but in
relation to such other, fragmentary testimonies to Protagoras’ thought as have made it
through the ages. Thus, it seems likely that the notion that every πρᾶγµα gives rise to
λόγοι ἀντικείµενοι ἀλλήλοις was connected with Protagoras’ celebrated thesis that
‘man is the µέτρον of all things’.25 If it is so to be connected, then this notoriously underspecified claim can be taken to imply that there is no external ‘measure’ for judging the issues from which the two opposing λόγοι arise;26 and since – as yet another
isolated Protagorean fragment has it – the realm of the divine is by definition inaccessible,27 human accounts would then remain the only meaningful basis for all utterances involving the predicates ‘ἐστί’ and ‘οὔκ ἐστι’.28 This connection would make
for a radical vision of the political process, according to which the community as a
whole functions by virtue of a dual distribution of political responsibilities: for active
politicians to construct and communicate sound λόγοι,29 and for the passive majority
to judge these λόγοι on their merits, without having recourse to absolute, ‘god-given’
standards.
blished the contest of λόγοι (ἀγῶνα λόγων ἐποιήσατο)’ (80B3); cf. Pl. Prot. 335a: ἐγὼ πολλοῖς ἥδη εἰς
ἀγῶνα λόγων ἀφικόµην ἀνθρώποις ([‘Protagoras’ speaking]: ‘I have engaged with many a man in a
contest of λόγοι’) – evidently an allusion to Protagoras’ ipsissima verba.
25
Protagoras 80B1 (from various sources): πάντων χρηµάτων µέτρον ἐστὶν ἄνθρωπος, τῶν µὲν ὄντων
ὡς ἐστίν, τῶν δὲ οὐκ ὄντων ὡς οὐκ ἐστίν (‘Of all things man is the µέτρον, of the things that are that
they are, of the things that are not that they are not’); cf. below, n.28.
26
For the connection between Protagoras’ rhetorical teachings and his ‘relativism’, cf. e.g. Guthrie,
Sophists 182-3; Kerferd, Sophistic Movement 84-5; Classen, ‘Study of language’ 219-25 and
‘Aletheia’; Rademaker, ‘Most Correct Account’ 13-6.
27
Protagoras 80B3 (from various sources): περὶ µὲν θεῶν οὐκ ἔχω εἰδέναι, οὔθ’ ὡς εἰσὶν οὔθ’ ὡς οὐκ
εἰσὶν οὔθ’ ὁποῖοί τινες ἰδέαν· πολλὰ γὰρ τὰ κωλύοντα εἰδέναι ἥ τ’ ἀδηλότης καὶ βραχὺς ὢν ὁ βίος τοῦ
ἀνθρώπου (‘I cannot know about the gods, neither that they are nor that they are not, nor what kind of
beings they are: many are the things that obstruct knowledge – the uncertainty and man’s life being
brief’). DL 9.51 cites this fragment as ‘another incipit’ (καὶ ἀλλαχοῦ δὲ τοῦτον ἤρξατο τὸν τρόπον·),
and Eusebius cites it as being from a Περὶ θεῶν; but the fact that they come from different treatises
need not imply that Protagoras saw no connection between his claim about the gods and his ‘man is the
µέτρον’ thesis.
28
This is not the place to discuss the uncertainties pertaining to the interpretation of just about every
word in the ‘man is the µέτρον’ thesis, and I hope the reader will excuse the non-committal paraphrase
given above. Most of the problems are highlighted by Neumann, ‘Problematik’; full doxography can be
found in Huss, ‘Homo-Mensura-Satz’; Rademaker, ‘Most Correct Account’ 14.
29
This burden of responsibility seems to be addressed in part by the teaching of Protagoras and his col-
leagues on ὀρθοέπεια and/or ὀρθότης ὀνoµάτων: see e.g. Kerferd, Sophistic Movement 68-77; Classen,
‘Study of Language’ 22-5; Sicking, ‘Plato’s Protagoras’ 191-2; Rademaker, ‘Correct Account’ 12-3.
96
Chapter III
As Cynthia Farrar has argued most extensively, such a vision makes for an
eminently democratic line of thought; one that – if we can trust the general tenor of
our sources – was epitomised in the political climate that prevailed in Athens in the
heyday of Pericles.30 In the Funeral oration, Thucydides makes Pericles stress the crucial, if unequal, involvement of the entire Athenian δῆµος in the decision-making
process: according to the statesman, the δῆµος is involved as a whole ‘in the correct
judging, if not in the active consideration, of τὰ πράγµατα’.31 In his last speech to the
Athenian Assembly, the Thucydidean Pericles expands on this thesis, arguing that
sound government is predicated on a concern for the πόλις’s general well-being, not
on the interests of the private individual:32 accordingly, Pericles says, the πόλις’s survival as a whole relies on the readiness of the mass of the citizens to align themselves
with those who are ‘action-minded’.33 This distinction between a ‘passive’ and an ‘active’ part of the constitution makes for a division of labour, according to which the
policies that the collective must ratify are ideally proposed by men – like Pericles –
‘who have the ability to see what ought to be done and to mediate this vision to others’.34
The ability to ‘see what must be done, and mediate this vision to others’ was,
evidently, what Protagoras’ teaching aimed to instill in the would-be politicians who
availed themselves of his services. In order for the active politician to serve his πόλις
regardless of the interests of its individual citizens, he must, according to Protagoras,
be able to construct either of the two competing λόγοι that arise from every πρᾶγµα:
that, at any rate, seems to be the gist of the ‘Protagorean slogan’ (τὸ Πρωταγόρου
ἐπάγγελµα) reported by Aristotle, to the effect that the ‘weaker λόγος’ can be made
‘stronger’.35 Aristotle’s reference is contained in a wide-ranging discussion of arguments intended to make ‘what is improbable probable’; and this context suggests that
Aristotle took the terms ἥττων and κρείττων in a morally neutral way, as referring to
30
See esp. Farrar, Origins 77-98 on the political implications of Protagoras’ thought, and, for its rela-
tionship with Periclean democracy, ibid. 158-67. For the Protagorean basis of the Periclean constitution, see also Yunis, ‘How do the People Decide?’; and Taming Democracy 42-3.
31
Thuc. 2.40.2: οἱ αὐτοὶ ἤτοι κρίνοµέν γε ἢ ἐνθυµοῦµεθα ὀρθῶς τὰ πράγµατα. For the translation given
above, cf. Edmunds, ‘Thuc. 2.40.2’ 17.
32
Thuc. 2.60.2: ἐγὼ γὰρ ἡγοῦµαι πόλιν πλείω ξύµπασαν ὀρθουµένην ὠφελεῖν τοὺς ἰδιώτας ἢ καθ’
ἕκαστον τῶν πολιτῶν εὐπραγοῦσαν, ἁθρόαν δὲ σφαλλοµένην (‘I believe that the city benefits its citizens more when, as a whole, it is doing well, than when the community fares badly, while its citizens
prosper individually’).
33
Thuc. 2.63.3: τὸ γὰρ ἄπραγµον οὐ σῶιζεται µὴ µετὰ τοῦ δραστηρίου τεταγµένον (‘The passive part
of the constituency can only survive by being combined with the active part’).
34
Thuc. 2.60.5 (Pericles, speaking of himself:) οὐδενὸς ἥσσων οἴοµαι εἶναι γνῶναι τὰ δέοντα καὶ
ἑρµηνεῦσαι ταῦτα.
35
Arist. Rhet. 1402a24-6 (= Prot. 80B6b): ... καὶ τὸ τὸν ἥττω δὲ λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν τοῦτ’ ἔστιν· καὶ
ἐντεῦθεν δικαίως ἐδυσχέραινον οἱ ἄνθρωποι τὸ Πρωταγόρου ἐπάγγελµα κτλ. (‘... and that is “making
the weaker λόγος stronger”: and accordingly, men are right to take issue with Protagoras’ slogan...’).
Chapter III
97
‘probability’ or ‘persuasiveness’ – as, presumably, Protagoras himself did. On this
reading of the ἐπάγγελµα that Aristotle associates with Protagoras’ name, the successful politician must be equipped with the technical skills to construct their λόγοι so that
they transcend their lack of immediate popular appeal.36
It is this aspect of the great sophist’s programme, however, that would soon
prove to become quite controversial. In Aristophanes’ 423 play Clouds, we first encounter the tendentious substitution of ἄδικος ‘unjust’ for ἥττων ‘weak’, by means of
which Strepsiades contrives to impose a moral interpretation on the Protagorean slogan.37 This moral interpretation is elaborately worked out in the same play’s agon
scene,38 as well as by later interpreters, who tend to take it for granted that Protagoras
and other sophists taught speakers to make the ‘unjust case prevail over the just’.39
This controversy over the legacy associated with Protagoras and his scandalous
ἐπάγγελµα has its pendant in the controversy over the political legacy that Pericles left
at his death in 429. Thucydides, for one, observes that whereas his hero effectively
and successfully ruled Athens as its πρῶτος ἀνήρ, his successors, ‘who were more on
a level with each other and who were each of them aspiring to become preeminent,
began to neglect τὰ πράγµατα in order to please the δῆµος’.40 While modern scholars
are justifiably sceptical about Thucydides’ all-but-wholesale condemnation of Peri-
36
On the early sophists’ interest in arguments from probability, cf. Gagarin, ‘Probability & Persua-
sion’; see also Gagarin, Antiphon 25-6 and Woodruff, ‘Euboulia’ 259-60 on the embedding of the
technical distinction between a ἥττων and a κρείττων λόγος in Protagoras’ political theory.
37
Ar. Nub. 112-6: εἶναι παρ’ αὐτοῖς φασιν ἄµφω τὼ λόγω, | τὸν κρείττον’ ὅστις ἐστὶ καὶ τὸν ἥττονα.
τούτοιν τὸν ἕτερον τοῖν λόγοιν, τὸν ἥττονα, | νικᾶν λέγοντά φασι τἀδικώτερα. | ἢν οὖν µάθῃς µοι τὸν
ἄδικον τοῦτον λόγον κτλ. (‘I am told they have both λόγοι here, the stronger, no matter what it is, and
the weaker; and one of these λόγοι, the weaker, I am told, can plead the unjust case and win: now, if
you teach me this unjust λόγος...’); cf. Nub. 657 τὸν ἀδικώτατον λόγον and 885 τὸ γοῦν ἄδικον (sc.
λόγον). On the substitution, cf. e.g. Newiger, Metapher u. Allegorie 136n.1 (“Damit wird der wertfreie
Logos des Protagoras wertend festgelegt”); Pucci, ‘Nuvole’ 8-10; De Carli, Aristofane 62; O’Regan,
Rhetoric 32-3.
38
In the agon, the two λόγοι consistently refer to themselves as ὁ ἥττων and ὁ κρείττων λόγος (Nub.
893-5, 1038; cf. also 1336-7, 1444-5 and 1451-6), and it is in these terms that ‘Socrates’ refers to the
Aristophanic scene at Pl. Ap. 18b; but the actual debate starkly juxtaposes Weak’s immoralism with
Strong’s reactionary position. On the resulting tension between the neutral and the moral overtones of
ἥττων and κρείττων, cf. Dover on Nub. lvii-lviii; MacDowell, Aristophanes & Athens 137-8.
39
On Plato’s reframing of sophistic thought in absolute moral terms, cf. Gagarin, Antiphon 24-7 with
references. Plato’s absolutist critique is continued in the Aristotelian Soph. Elench., where it is established early on that ‘there exists a class of fallacious arguments, and the so-called sophists have perfected their use’ (165a33).
40
Thuc. 2.65.10: οἰ δὲ ὕστερον ἴσοι µᾶλλον αὐτοὶ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ὄντες καὶ ὀρεγόµενοι τοῦ πρῶτος
ἕκαστος γίγνεσθαι ἐτράποντο καθ’ ἡδονὰς τῶι δήµωι καὶ τὰ πράγµατα ἐνδιδόναι. Pericles as πρῶτος
ἀνήρ: Thuc. 2.65.8: καὶ οὐκ ἤγετο µᾶλλον ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ [sc. τοῦ πλήθους] ἢ αὐτὸς ἦγε (‘It was he who led
the people, not the other way round’).
98
Chapter III
cles’ successors, 41 writers in the 4th cent. readily concurred with him in thinking that
after Pericles, the Athenian political climate rapidly deteriorated;42 and such contemporary texts as Aristophanes’ Knights (produced in 424) suggest that in the popular
perception, if not in verifiable reality, after Pericles’ death, politics were not what they
had once been.43
Thus, by the time Euripides came to produce most of his surviving dramas, the
‘idea of the ἀγών’ as it was theorised by Protagoras and implemented – if we can trust
Thucydides on this – during Pericles’ heyday, was a matter of controversy. Still effectively dominating the goings-on in Athens’ law-courts and deliberative institutions,
the notion that for every πρᾶγµα, there are ‘two λόγοι’ to be weighed could be regarded as a relativist aberration that obfuscated rather than clarified issues, and gave
free rein to moral laxity and deterioration. In order to get a grip on this controversy,
we shall presently examine 5th-cent. literature’s most direct challenge to the idea of
the ἀγών, viz. Thucydides’ ‘Mytilenaean debate’; but first, we turn to the relatively
unproblematic world of Euripides’ Children of Heracles, a play that was most likely
produced in the late 430s, when Pericles was still alive.44
41
See e.g. Hornblower on Thuc. 2.65.7-10 (p. 1.346-7): “In retrospect it is hard to see what was so new
or different about Pericles’ successors, especially if they are compared... with Pericles the pushing politician of the 460s and 450s”. Finley, ‘Athenian Demagogues’ and Connor, New Politicians 119-33 had
already observed that the traditional dividing line may be unfairly drawn, pointing out that Pericles’
rhetorical skill, professionalism and rejection of traditional family alliances made him the first of a
‘new’ generation of politicians rather than the last of an old one. For detailed discussion, cf. Mann,
Demagogen u.d. Volk 75-83.
42
E.g. Lys. 30.28 (present-day legislators unfavourably compared to Solon, Themistocles and Peri-
cles); Pl. Gorg. 503b-c (pressed for the names of commendable politicians, Callicles can only come up
with Themistocles, Cimon, Miltiades and Pericles: cf. ibid. 517a, and for Socrates’ perversely negative
view of Periclean Athens see Dodds on Gorg. pp. 30-1); Isoc. 8.124-8 (unlike later politicians, Pericles
rated the πόλις’s interests over his private concerns); 14.230-6 (Pericles was the last in a line of politicians who used their prominence for the good); cf. [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 28 with Rhodes ad loc. (p. 344)
and Σ Ar. Pax 681 (citing the 4th-cent. historian Theopompus).
43
For comedy’s sustained criticism of e.g. Cleon and Hyperbolus cf. Ar. Nub. 549-559 (alluding to his
own Eq. as satirising Cleon, as well as to Eupolis’ Marikas and Hermippus’ Breadsellers as satirising
Hyperbolus), and see e.g. Lind, ‘Gerber Kleon’; Mann, ‘Aristophanes, Kleon’; McGlew, ‘Everybody’;
Sommerstein, ‘Demagogue Comedy’. For the nostalgia for Pericles and his predecessors expressed in
post-429 comedy, cf. e.g. Eupolis fr. 102 (from Dēmoi [produced in 417 or 412]: Pericles, returned
from the dead, is favourably compared to living politicians – cf. Braun, ‘Dead Politicians’ 204-16; Storey, Eupolis 131-4); and see Schwarze, Beurteilung des Perikles 132-5, who points to comedy’s generically determined tendency towards nostalgia and the passing of time as the factors responsible for the
progressive softening of comic poets’ view of the great statesman.
44
Hcld.’s stylistic and metrical features align the play with Med. (431) and Hipp. (428): see Cropp &
Fick, Resolutions & Chronology 5, 23. Historical arguments (first advanced by Zuntz, Political Plays
84-6 and endorsed most recently by Allan on Hcld. pp.55-6) suggest a terminus ante quem in the sum-
Chapter III
99
2. The ἀγὼν λό
λόγων in Children of Heracles and beyond
Right after the play’s prologue and parodos, which establish the presence of Heracles’
fugitive offspring on Athenian territory, the play stages a debate that, as Michael
Lloyd observes, is “clear-cut in its issues and regular in its form” (Agon 72); and its
regularity will help us hold our bearings when we come to discuss the poet’s more
complicated later agon scenes. It consitutes, as it were, a textbook ἀγών, that illustrates not only Euripides’ use of the ‘agon’ form, but also the political values associated with this form.
The speakers are Iolaus, guardian of Heracles’ children, and an Argive Herald
who acts as the spokesman of their persecutors. The issue that the two contestants put
before the Athenian king Demophon is simple: should Athens take in the fugitives
and make war with Argos, or not? The Herald is accorded the opening speech, in
which he blandly states a number of reasons why Athens should turn the fugitives
away. His speech contains a mixture of appeals to justice and appeals to expedience:
the Argives have a right to try and condemn their own subjects (Hcld. 137-43); there
is no gain and considerable risk for the Athenians in protecting these aliens (144-61);
there are many better reasons to go to war (162-8); and friendship with the Argives is
more precious than friendship with the hapless suppliants (169-78). Iolaus in his turn
observes that Argos’ right to try its citizens does not extend beyond its borders (18491), points out that Athens has a reputation for protecting aliens to keep up (189-204),
stresses the mutual obligations pertaining between Athens and Heracles’ family (20222), and then directly appeals for Demophon’s pity (223-31).
The ‘agonistic’ principles on which this debate takes place are explicitly established, both beforehand and as the scene progresses. Having learned from the Athenian Chorus who the ruler of the country is, the Herald affirms that it is to Demophon
that ‘the contest over this case’ (ἁγὼν τοῦδε τοῦ λόγου 117-8) is to be addressed.
Then, in the lines that separate the contestants’ speeches from one another, the Chorus
ask rhetorically:
τίς ἂν δίκην κρίνειεν ἢ γνοίη λόγον,
πρὶν ἂν παρ’ ἀµφοῖν µῦθον ἐκµάθηι σαφῶς;
(179-80)
‘Who can judge a case or know a λόγος before having taken clear
cognisance of both sides’ story?’
And Iolaus, before beginning his counter-speech, thanks his host for allowing him the
unaccustomed privilege to hear the prosecution and react:
ἄναξ, ὑπάρχει µὲν τόδ’ ἐν τῆι σῆι χθονί·
εἰπεῖν ἀκοῦσαί τ’ ἐν µέρει πάρεστί µοι,
κοὐδείς µ’ ἀπώσει πρόσθεν, ὥσπερ ἄλλοθεν.
(181-3)
mer of 430, after which the Spartan invasions would have put the play’s various references to Attica’s
future inviolability in a bizarre light.
100
Chapter III
‘Lord, this is how things are in your country: I can speak and listen
in turn, and nobody shall kick me out before I have done so, as happened elsewhere.’
This exchange situates the mythical debate squarely (and somewhat anachronistically)
within the institutionalised ‘argument culture’ of classical-period Athens,45 and the
Chorus give a clear statement of the rules of procedure that were no doubt supposed
to guide actual Athenian decision-making, as the play’s audience knows it to take
place in the ἐκκλησία and the law-courts: there is a λόγος to be tried, that consists of
two opposing ‘stories’ (µῦθοι), each of which deserves to be heard before judgment is
passed.
The first episodes of Children of Heracles have been characterised as displaying an unproblematic attitude towards Athenian political identity – an attitude that resembles Aeschylus’ depiction, in Eumenides, of Athens as the place to go in case of
trouble.46 This essentially positive outlook seems to be reflected in the behaviour of
the participants in its formal agon, who refrain from attempting to prejudge the issue
or contesting each other’s right to speak: whereas Iolaus and the Argive Herald compete with one another for Demophon’s approval, neither of them does so with a view
to excluding the other’s case totally from reasonable consideration. The Herald’s arguments from expediency (τί κερδανεῖς; 154) and Iolaus’ appeal to the χάρις that
Athens owes to Heracles’ family (220, 241) – arguments that make up by far the
greatest part of their performances – neatly complement one another, enabling Demophon to balance the issue’s pros and cons. True, both speakers also file opposing
claims in presenting their cases: the Herald claims that Argos has a ‘right’ (δίκαιοι
ἐσµέν 142) to try its citizens according to its own νόµοι, and Iolaus counters by questioning that ‘right’ (187; 190); but these claims concern only a sub-issue – one, moreover, that Demophon refrains from taking into account at all when he delivers his
judgment. What counts most for Demophon is Athens’ obligation to protect ξένοι, and
this is the ‘right’ to which, upon being asked by the losing party, he claims to have
given prevalence (253-4).47
As Michael Lloyd and others have observed, the verbal ἀγών at the beginning
of Children of Heracles is that rare thing, a Euripidean ‘agon’ scene that successfully
accomplishes the goals it has set for itself;48 but there is more to it than that. As the
audience witness a deliberative process that, for all its being displaced into a predemocratic past, can nonetheless be associated with Athenian deliberative mores, the
45
Cf. Lloyd, Agon 75.
46
For Hcld.’s prima facie positive take on Athenian political identity, see e.g. Zuntz, Political Plays 5.
47
Other references to δίκη concern the Herald’s general claim that he has come πολλά ... | δίκαι’
ὁµαρτῆι δρᾶν τε καὶ λέγειν ἔχων (137-8), and Iolaus’ specific claim that if Demophon should expel the
fugitives, ‘it would not be on grounds of justice, but in fear of Argos’ (τῆι δίκηι µὲν οὐ | τὸ δ’ Ἄργος
ὀκνῶν, 194-5).
48
Cf. above, nn. 6 & 15.
Chapter III
101
Protagorean/Periclean model of deliberation – a model consisting of λόγοι pro and
contra, weighed equitably on their merits alone – is upheld as a successful means of
attaining sound policy; and Athens is explicitly commended as the place, perhaps the
only place in all of Greece, where you can get a fair hearing of your case along these
lines. As the play progresses towards its darker final episodes, this positive image of
goings-on in Athens is counterbalanced by the unrestrained revenge that Alcmene exacts from the former suppliants’ pursuers: the tragic idea that Children of Heracles
dramatises is that, even in an exquisitely well-ordered world, things may go spectacularly wrong. But in the early scenes, a bright idealism about Athenian political identity prevails.49
Euripides’ depiction of an unproblematical, conclusive ἀγὼν λόγων in the
opening episode of his Children of Heracles proved to be, as far as we can tell by the
surviving plays, a one-off: his subsequent dramas problematise on-stage deliberation,
not only by situating the ‘ἀγών’ outside or beyond the dramatic action – as we have
seen in section 1.1 above – but also by including contrary voices within the ἀγών, and
thereby questioning its validity as a model for deliberative procedure. As we have already seen, the 420s produced various challenges to Protagorean/Periclean practice,
not only in Aristophanic comedy but also, going by Thucydides’ account, in sociopolitical reality. Thucydides, writing in the final decade of the 5th cent., provides a
paradigmatic example of such a challenge in his account of the ‘Mytilenaean debate’;
and although this set-piece, situated in 427, cannot simply be taken as the historical
document that it purports to be, it is the closest thing to a contemporary analysis of the
prevailing political climate of the 420s that we have; and the stark contrast between a
‘Periclean’ and a ‘Cleonic’ perspective that it construes will prove to be a helpful key
in our reading of Euripides’ Suppliant Women, Hecuba and Phoenician Women.
The Mytilenaean debate pits the prominent politician Cleon – tendentiously
labelled by the narrator as ‘the most violent-minded of citizens, and the one who held
at the time by far the greatest sway over the δῆµος’50 – against the otherwise unknown
Diodotus, with Cleon starting off the day’s proceedings by protesting against the reopening of a debate that in his opinion was settled decisively the day before.51 In the
course of this protest, Cleon takes issue with the extent to which the idea of the ἀγών
dominates discursive practice: commending citizens ‘who are judges acting on a basis
of equality’ (κριταὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἴσου) over those who ‘engage in competitions’
(ἀγωνισταί),52 Cleon enjoins speakers in the Assembly not to have recourse to ‘impos-
49
For this line of interpretation, see e.g. Burian, ‘Heraclidae’ 3-6; Albini, ‘Falsa convenzionalità’;
Allan, ‘Euripides & the Sophists’ 151-2.
50
Thuc. 3.36.6: ἐς τὰ ἄλλα βιαιότατος τῶν πολιτῶν τῶι τε δήµωι παρὰ πολὺ ἐν τῶι τότε πιθανώτατος.
51
On the general problem addressed by Cleon, see e.g. Saxonhouse, Free Speech 72-9; Yunis, Taming
Democracy 87-90 (‘the problem of reconsideration’) and Balot, ‘Free Speech’ 238-9 (‘revisability’).
For the aptness and consistency of Thucydides’ treatment of Cleon, cf. Andrews, ‘Cleon’s ethopoetics’
and Spence, ‘Thucydides’ (contra Woodhead, ‘Portrait of Cleon’).
52
Thuc. 3.37.4. Andrews, ‘Hidden Appeals’ 55 glosses the difficult κριταὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἴσου as “equal part-
102
Chapter III
ing speech and contests of cleverness’ (δεινότητι καὶ ξυνέσεως ἀγῶνι), in which they
‘strive to advise the δῆµος contrary to the opinion of the majority’ (ἀπαιροµένους
παρὰ δόξαν τῶι ὑµετέρωι πλήθει παραινεῖν);53 and he proceeds to berate the πόλις for
‘according the prizes to others while carrying all the risk itself’ (3.38.3), and the Assembly-goers for ‘organising these harmful ἀγῶνες’ (αἴτιοι δ’ ὑµεῖς κακῶς
ἀγωνοθετοῦντες).54 In these ‘contests’, the δῆµος assume the role of ‘spectators and
listeners’ who content themselves with judging the performances of able speakers,
rather than forming their own opinion of the issue at hand,55 behaving themselves in
the ἐκκλησία as they would in the theatre or gymnasium.56
By consistently and critically foregrounding the ‘agonistic’ metaphors that lie
under the surface of what the Assembly-goers are actually doing, Thucydides’ Cleon
takes issue, not just with the ἐκκλησία’s failure to stick with the specific results that
they attained the day before on Cleon’s own initiative, but also, and more importantly,
with the way it implicitly construes its own functioning. The Assembly routinely operates on the unspoken assumption that the basis for communally approved action is
to be attained through the δῆµος’s ‘judging’ of the experts’ arguments pro and contra;
but in order for Athenian democracy to achieve its full potential, this assumption
ners in the joint task of reaching sound judgment”. Hornblower ad loc. (p.1.425) interprets the phrase
as “being impartial judges”, but as Andrews observes, this does not make a contrast with ἀγωνισταί.
53
Thuc. 3.37.5: cf. Andrews, ‘Hidden Appeals’ 54, who points out that the omission of the article in
παρὰ δόξαν is significant: Cleon does not accuse the Assembly’s regular speakers of going against
‘what has been decided’ (×τὴν δόξαν τὴν ὑµετέρην), but against ‘public opinion’ tout court.
54
Thuc. 3.38.4, once again difficult to translate. The verb ἀγωνοτίθεσθαι refers to the organisation of
ἀγῶνες, as opposed to taking part in them (ἀγωνίζεσθαι): cf. e.g. Hdt. 2.160, where the two activities
are explicitly contrasted. The adverb κακῶς disqualifies the activity expressed by the verb per se (‘...
for wrongly organising’), not the way this activity is conducted (×‘... for badly organising’): Cleon does
not want ‘well-organised’ ἀγῶνες, he wants to do away with ἀγῶνες altogether. For a similar disjunctive use of the adverb, cf. e.g. E. Tro. 904 οὐ δικαίως θανούµεθα ‘it is unjust for me to die’ (not ×‘I
shall die in an unjust way’).
55
Thuc. 3.38.4: ... οἵτινες εἰώθατε θεαταὶ µὲν τῶν λόγων γίγνεσθαι, ἀκροαταὶ δὲ τῶν ἔργων· τὰ µὲν
µέλλοντα ἔργα ἀπὸ τῶν εὖ εἰπόντων σκοποῦντες ὡς δυνατὰ γίγνεσθαι, τὰ δὲ πεπραγµένα ἥδη, οὐ τὸ
δρασθὲν πιστότερον ὄψει λαβόντες ἢ τὸ ἀκουσθέν, ἀπὸ τῶν λόγων καλῶς ἐπιτιµησάντων (‘You have
become habitual speech-goers, and mere listeners to action: of future actions you estimate the possibilities by listening to able speakers; and as for the past, you rely on what you have heard in clever verbal
criticisms rather than on what you have seen being done with your own eyes’).
56
Thuc. 3.38.6: ... καὶ µάλιστα µὲν αὐτὸς εἰπεῖν ἕκαστος βουλόµενος δύνασθαι, εἰ δὲ µή,
ἀνταγωνιζόµενοι τοῖς τοιαῦτα λέγουσι µὴ ὕστεροι ἀκολουθῆσαι δοκεῖν τῆι γνώµηι, ὀξέως δέ τι
λέγοντος προεπαινέσαι, καὶ προαισθέσθαι τε πρόθυµοι εἶναι τὰ λεγόµενα καὶ προνοῆσαι βραδεῖς τὰ ἐξ
αὐτῶν ἀποβησόµενα (‘And the chief wish of each of you is to be able to speak himself, and if you cannot do that, to compete with those who can in order not to seem out of your depth when you listen to
what is being proposed, by sharply applauding a good point before it is made and by being as quick to
anticipate what is said as you are slow to foresee its consequences’).
Chapter III
103
should be abandoned.57 While Pericles had already argued that Athens’ imperialist aspirations force the Athenians to adopt a quasi-‘tyrannical’ foreign policy,58 Cleon now
goes one step further, arguing that since Athens is ‘de facto a tyranny’,59 the city
should act like a τύραννος with regard to its internal as well as its external policy:
viz., they should respond directly to the issue at hand, without having recourse to advisers who aspire to empower themselves rather than attend to the δῆµος’ wishes.60 It
is the δόξα of the masses that should guide the attainment of correct decisions – for
while the ἀµαθία of the lower classes (φαυλοί) goes hand in hand with σωφροσύνη
(‘moderation’), so the ‘cleverness’ (δεξιότης) of the ξυνετοί (‘experts’) comes with
‘excess’ (ἀκολασία).61 As Cleon has it, the majority’s δόξα should be regarded as
νόµος (‘law’);62 and the attempts of the Assembly’s regular speakers to argue παρὰ
δόξαν – as Pericles, on the Thucydidean narrator’s account, was wont to do (cf.
2.65.8) – should be suppressed in order to ensure sound government.63
Thus, Thucydides’ Cleon both challenges the ‘agonistic’ principles according
to which the ἐκκλησία purportedly functions, and offers the Assembly-goers an alternative model that would have them base their decisions upon their gut feeling of the
issue at hand, rather than on the polished λόγοι of the usual ἀγωνισταί. Since Cleon is
implicated in the very deliberative process whose construction as an ἀγών he here
challenges, it could be – and has been – argued that his whole argument is itself a
57
Cf. Andrews, ‘Hidden Appeals’ 46-7: Cleon’s general objective is to “remove for his audience the
ideological impediment to the realization of their unspoken desire for greater power”.
58
Thuc.2.63.2: ὡς τυραννίδα γὰρ ἥδη ἔχετε αὐτήν... (‘since your dominion is like a tyranny’). The
‘πόλις τυραννίς’ metaphor has been extensively discussed: see most recently Raaflaub, ‘Stick & Glue’
77-81 with references.
59
Thuc. 3.37.2:... οὐ σκοποῦντες ὅτι τυραννίδα ἔχετε τὴν ἄρχην (‘you don’t realise that you have a tyr-
anny on your hands’): note that, in reiterating Pericles’ τυραννίς metaphor, Cleon tellingly omits the
qualifying ‘ὡς’.
60
Cf. e.g. Andrews, ‘Cleon’s Hidden Appeals’ 55 (“ordinary people, if simply left to their own conclu-
sions, can be depended on to reach a wise collective decision” [author’s emphasis]); Ober, Dissent 97-8
(“Cleon wants the Assembly-goers to act according to a mimetically restored emotional state... relying
on their visceral emotions when making decisions”).
61
Thuc. 3.37.3: ἀµαθία τε µετὰ σωφροσύνης ὠφελιµώτερον ἢ δεξιότης µετὰ ἀκολασίας, οἵ τε
φαυλότεροι τῶν ἀνθρώπων πρὸς τοὺς ξυνετωτέρους ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πλέον ἄµεινον οἰκοῦσι τὰς πόλεις (‘Ignorance combined with moderation is more useful than cleverness combined with excess, and as a rule,
the lower classes are better governors than the experts’).
62
Thuc. 3.37.4: οἱ δ’ ἀπιστοῦντες τῆι ἐξ αὑτῶν ξυνέσει ἀµαθεστέροι µὲν τῶν νόµων ἀξιοῦσιν εἶναι
(‘Those who do not rely on their own wits value themselves as being less intelligent than the laws’). As
Hornblower ad loc. (1.423-4) observes, Cleon’s suggestion that the Assembly regard their own opinion
in terms of νόµος, though tendentious, is technically correct.
63
Ober, Mass & Elite 163-4 observes that in constructing this argument, Cleon is proposing an extreme
form of an idea that would become common in 4th-cent. oratory: the capacity of the many for wise decision (cf. e.g. Dem. 24.37 and 23.145-6; Arist. Pol. 1281a40-5 and see Balot, ‘Free Speech’ 238-42).
104
Chapter III
mere rhetorical gesture, a move designed to win over the Assembly for Cleon’s own
point of view; and that all this makes his performance painfully paradoxical.64 The
significance of this argument can be seen, however, to extend beyond merely putting
on record the controversial politician’s hypocrisy: in combination with Diodotus’
equally paradoxical counter-speech, Cleon’s contribution to the Mytilenaean debate
also serves the more important function of demonstrating to the reader of Thucydides’
narrative that, with Pericles gone, the political climate is changing for the worse. As
Cleon asks the Assembly to adopt a ‘tyrannical’ internal procedure, and Diodotus
nominally upholds the ideal of the ἀγών while acknowledging implicitly that the prevailing political climate makes it impossible for politicians to speak their minds honestly,65 it transpires that, unlike Pericles himself, his successors are no longer wholeheartedly committed to the principles that used to govern Athenian institutional decision-making.
As we have seen above, few scholars would nowadays accept at face value the
stark contrast between a Periclean and a post-Periclean phase in real-life Athenian
politics that Thucydides projects onto Athens’ political history: it is too clearly informed both by the historian’s possession of hindsight, and by his political preferences.66 It is notable, however, as we shall now proceed to see, that the two contrasting positions that Thucydides juxtaposes in the Funeral Oration, in Pericles’ final address and in the Mytilenaean Debate – viz., the contrast between a ‘Periclean’ and a
‘Cleonic’ perspective on political decision-making – inform Euripides’ treatment of
the idea of the ἀγών in plays ranging from the mid-420s to the century’s final decade.
3. ἀγών and πόλις:
λις Euripides’ Suppliant Women
64
Paradoxical: cf. e.g. Macleod, ‘Reason & Necessity’; Ober, Dissent 98; and the extended discussion
of Cleon’s “rhetoric of anti-rhetoric” in Hesk, Deception & Democracy 242-55. As Andrews, ‘Cleon’s
ethopoetics’ notes, however, Cleon consistently disavows the role of ‘adviser’ and claims to represent
the voice of the people rather than the voice talking to the people: the paradox is wholly in the eye of
the beholder.
65
Cf. Thuc. 3.42.4-43 (esp. 43.4 καθέστηκε δὲ τἀγαθὰ ἀπὸ εὐθέος λεγόµενα µηδὲν ἀνυποπτότερα εἶναι
τῶν κακῶν, ὥστε δεῖν ὁµοίως τόν τε τὰ δεινότατα βουλόµενον πεῖσαι ἀπάτηι προσάγεσθαι τὸ πλῆθος
καὶ τὸν τὰ ἀµείνω λέγοντα ψευσάµενον πιστὸν γενέσθαι [‘A state of affairs has been reached where a
good proposal honestly put forward is just as suspect as a bad one, so that not only a speaker who advocates dreadful measures has to win over the people by deceiving them, but a man with good advice
to give also has to tell lies to be believed’]); and see e.g. Andrewes, ‘Mytilene Debate’; Ober, Dissent
98-102; Debnar, ‘Diodotus’ Paradox’, all of whom concur in describing Diodotus’ performance as an
exemplification of the ‘Cretan Liar’ paradox.
66
As many scholars have pointed out, Thucydides’ pessimism about post-Periclean politics is not borne
out by the facts: significant victories continued to be scored after Pericles’ death (see Mann, Demagogen u.d. Volk 78-81). The historian’s programmatic remarks at 2.65.11-13, moreover, are lost sight of
in the subsequent narration of the Sicilian expedition: see e.g. Westlake, ‘Thuc. 2.65.11’; Romilly,
‘Optimisme’ 566; Andrewes on Thuc. 8 (p. 5.423-7); Rusten on Thuc. 2.65.11-13 (p. 212-3).
Chapter III
105
Euripides’ Suppliant Women is commonly dated to the second half of the 420s.67 The
drama resembles Children of Heracles – as well as such earlier plays as Aeschylus’
Eumenides and Suppliant Women – in dramatising the resolution of a Greek state
(Athens in the Euripidean plays and Eumenides, Argos in Aeschylus’ Suppliant
Women) to interfere in foreign affairs by offering protection to victims of persecution.
All these plays highlight the role of ‘democratic’ deliberation in achieving this resolve: speaking of ‘the gathering of the local λαοί’, Aeschylus’ Suppliant Women
obliquely alludes to an Argive Assembly that must ratify Pelasgus’ decision to aid the
suppliants;68 and Children of Heracles, as we have seen, stages a formal ‘agon’ scene
in which the interested parties submit their case before the Athenian king Demophon.
Euripides’ Suppliant Women goes beyond its predecessors in explicitly thematising the way in which democratic decisions are attained. Recycling mythological
material previously treated in Aeschylus’ Eleusinians, the Euripidean play provides
our first attestation of Theseus as a democratic (as opposed to merely Athenian)
leader;69 its anachronistic references to contemporary political institutions are remarkably overt; 70 and the play’s subject matter – the recovery of the bodies of the
Seven who fought against Thebes – is likely to have had an urgent topical relevance
for its audience.71 Moreover, many scholars have observed that in characterising his
hero Theseus, Euripides appears to draw on the memory of Pericles, recently de-
67
See Collard on Suppl. p.3-4 for a review of the metrical, stylistical and historical arguments.
68
Cf. A. Suppl. 517-8: ἐγὼ δὲ λαοὺς συγκαλῶν ἐγχωρίους | σπεύσω, τὸ κοινὸν ὡς ἂν εὐµενὲς τιθῶ (Pe-
lasgus: ‘I shall hurry to convene the local hosts, so that I may make the public favour you’), and ibid.
600-1: εὖ τὰ τῶν ἐγχωρίων | δήµου δέδοκται παντελῆ ψηφίσµατα (‘The decisive vote of the local
δῆµος is favourable!’). On A. Suppl.’s reflection of Athenian democracy, see e.g. Burian, ‘Pelasgus &
Politics’; Raaflaub, ‘Breakthrough’ 107-9.
69
On Aeschylus’ Eleusinians, see Mills, Theseus 229-31: as far as the scanty fragments allow us to
say, this play’s Theseus seems to have attained the decision to aid the Suppliants without recourse to
the Athenian δῆµος. Pre-Euripidean sources (Hdt. 6.131.1; Hellan. FGrH 323a fr. 23.2-3; Philochor.
328 fr. 19) know nothing about a ‘democratic’ Theseus, and the notion is ignored by Thuc. 2.15.1-2; it
is possible that the local historians of Attica ascribed ‘democratic’ policies to Athens’ first king, but we
find no mention of them before the late-4th-cent. Marmor Parium (329 fr. A20). Unless we are to assume that the idea of Theseus’ democratic leadership is simply hidden from our view, it must have entered the historiographic mainstream only by the later half of the 4th cent., with Euripides as a precursor: see Walker, Theseus 143-6 and Mills, Theseus 99-100.
70
Cf. e.g. the brief assessments of Mills, Theseus 107; Burian, ‘Logos & Pathos’ 130 and see below.
71
It has often been observed that the play’s dramatic action parallels a series of events that took place
in the aftermath of the battle of Delium in winter 423, when Athens had to negotiate the recovery of its
fallen soldiers from Theban territory (see Thuc. 4.97-9: according to Bowie, ‘Tragic Filters’ 47, it
would attest to a “remarkable prescience” on the part of the dramatist if he had written the play without
knowledge of these events; Zuntz, Political Plays 58-63 and Mills, Theseus 91-3 are sceptical about
considering the battle of Delium as a reliable terminus post quem for the play’s production, but do not
deny that its dramatic action reflects concerns current in the present phase of the Peloponnesian war).
106
Chapter III
ceased;72 and the first half of the play’s dramatic action can be read as a reflection on
the validity of Pericles’ political legacy – and thus on the idea of the ἀγών as it dominated Athenian political practice.
Suppliant Women further distinguishes itself from its predecessors in prominently displaying anti-democratic view-points; and it is in this respect that the play
deserves pride of place in the present discussion. How do these anti-democratic voices
contribute to the meaning of a drama that, according to an ancient commentator, constituted an ‘encomium of Athens’?73 The play’s first episodes take in many of the
themes addressed in Thucydides’ account of the Mytilenaean debate, as discussed
above: the feasibility of renegotiating previously attained decisions; the δῆµος’s capacity to implement sound government, the ambivalent role of expert advisers; and the
ideal constitution of a healthy political system. Like Thucydides’ narrative, Suppliant
Women uses ‘tyrannical’ one-man rule as a foil for discussing democratic ideology;
and, like Thucydides’ Cleon, Euripides explicitly signposts the ‘agonistic’ nature of
Athenian-style deliberation, not just by repeatedly using agonistic terminology and
moulding the dramatic action in the standard ‘agon’ form, but also by likening the
proceedings at the outset to a ‘game of draughts’ (see below, section 3.3).
Suppliant Women’s tragic reflection on Athens’ argument culture is, however,
more complex and, ultimately, more intractable than Thucydides’ account, which as
we have seen neatly separates out a ‘Periclean’ and a ‘Cleonic’ perspective on the deliberative process and incorporates them in a diachronic narrative of decline. Moreover, while Thucydides’ politicians strike the reader as remarkably consistent in their
views, the political ἦθος of Suppliant Women’s Theseus is more volatile: as the Athenian king’s resolution shifts between rejection and acceptance of the Suppliants’
cause, so he appears now as a champion of absolute, god-given standards of behaviour, then as a thorough-going pragmatician who wholeheartedly embraces the idea
of the ἀγών.
In what follows, I shall argue that this complexity and intractability of the deliberative process is, precisely, the point Euripides wants to put across: rather than just
a straightforward eulogy of Athenian practice (as epitomised in a ‘democratic’ Theseus), or, conversely, a denunciation of democracy’s shortcomings (broadcasted
through the play’s Theban Herald), Suppliant Women offers its audience a demonstration of the ἀγών’s capacity to accommodate and harmonise conflicting points of view.
I shall first describe the interaction between the three successive, spatially defined
paradigms of political deliberation that occupy Suppliant Women’s opening episodes:
72
E.g. Di Benedetto, Teatro e società 179-84; Podlecki, ‘Pericles prosopon’; Shaw, ‘Ethos of The-
seus’; also Mills, Theseus 103-4 (sceptical). Michelini, ‘Political Themes’ 229-30 does not press the
Pericles connection, but tellingly describes Theseus as a “conservative democrat with some considerable suspicions of the masses”; Mastronarde, ‘Optimistic Rationalist’ 208 and Walker, Theseus 147-51
further document the ‘advanced’ or ‘sophistical’ aspects of Theseus’ ἦθος.
73
So Suppl.’s ancient hypothesis, commonly ascribed to Aristophanes of Byzantium (τὸ δὲ δρᾶµα
ἐγκώµιον Ἀθηναίων).
Chapter III
107
‘Argos’ (3.1), ‘Athens’ (3.2) and ‘Thebes’ (3.3).74 With these three localities, Euripides manages to articulate multiple oppositions – bad ἀγών (Argos) versus good ἀγών
(Athens), ἀγών (Argos, Athens) versus no ἀγών (Thebes), bad decisions (Argos,
Thebes) versus good decisions (Athens) – each of which is relevant for the audience’s
understanding of what is at stake. Secondly, considering the remarkably complex figure of Theseus, who bridges all these oppositions, I shall conclude that Suppliant
Women problematises the idea of the ἀγών without rejecting its validity as a guiding
metaphor for Athenian politics (3.4).
3.1 Doing politics in Argos
After Theseus has cross-examined Adrastus, the spokesman of the Suppliants, as to
the causes of his present misfortune, he initially rejects the Suppliants’ request: his
main objection is that Adrastus should have paid closer attention to divine ordinance
than he did, when he decided to help his son-in-law Polynices and attack Thebes.
While this objection in itself is pretty straightforward, Theseus chooses to embed it in
a general evaluation of Argos’ functioning as a πόλις, and it is in its generality that his
argument is of interest to us.
Theseus begins his speech by recalling a ‘debate’ he once had,75 where he argued that man is endowed with intelligence, language, riches, protection and trade
(203-10); that ‘any matters that are unclear and of which we have no reliable knowledge’ must be referred to the competent religious authorities (211-3); and that man’s
misery is due to the presumption that leads him to think that he can ‘outsmart’ the
gods.76 That said, Theseus returns to the here and now, observing that Adrastus was
evidently guilty of such presumption,77 since he ignored the advice of his µάντεις
when he set out to wage a disastrous war,78 and allowed himself to be ‘side-tracked’
by ambitious young war-mongers.79 These observations lead back into a general re-
74
For tragedy’s tendency to employ spatial metaphrases for socio-political ideas, cf. the classic discus-
sion of Zeitlin, ‘Theater’ on the structural opposition between ‘Thebes’ and ‘Athens’.
75
Suppl. 195-8: ἄλλοισι δὴ ’πόνησ’ ἁµιλληθεὶς λόγωι | τοιῶιδ’· ἔλεξε γάρ τις... | | ἐγὼ δὲ τούτοις ἀντίαν
γνώµην ἔχω κτλ. (‘In a debate I once had with other men, I submitted the following case: a man said....
and I proffered the opposite opinion to them...’); the significance of this curious way of introducing his
present argument will be discussed below, in section 3.4.
76
Suppl. 216-8: ἀλλ’ ἡ φρόνησις τοῦ θεοῦ µεῖζον σθένειν | ζητεῖ, τὸ γαῦρον δ’ ἐν φρεσὶν κεκτηµένοι |
δοκοῦµεν εἶναι δαιµόνων σοφώτεροι (‘φρόνησις seeks to know better than the god: having our minds
full of boasts, we think we are smarter than godly beings’).
77
Suppl. 219: ἧς καὶ σὺ φαίνηι δεκάδος οὐ σοφῆς γεγώς (‘It is clear that you belonged to this unwise
crew’).
78
Suppl. 229-31: ἐς δὲ στρατείαν πάντας Ἀργείους ἄγων, | µάντεων λεγόντων θέσφατ’ εἶτ’ ἀτιµάσας, |
βίαι παρελθὼν θεοὺς ἀπώλεσας πόλιν (‘In leading all of Argos into battle, you rejected the inspired
words of the µάντεις and violently destroyed your city contrary to the gods’ will’).
79
Suppl. 232-7: νέοις παραχθεὶς οἵτινες τιµώµενοι | χαίρουσι πολέµους τ’ αὐξάνουσ’ ἄνευ δίκης | φθεί-
108
Chapter III
flection on the constitution of a sound political system (238-45); and Theseus concludes on the statement that, given Adrastus’ faux pas, it would be folly for Athens to
ally itself with the Argives’ cause (246-9).
The Athenian king’s disregard for Adrastus’ plight activates widely shared notions of proper behaviour, and is in line with the traditional perspective on the Seven’s
hybristic expedition.80 As he rejects the argument culture that, allegedly, led Argos on
its disastrous course of action, what gradually comes into view against this traditional
negative foil is the positive vision of a fully egalitarian democracy in which the
‘greedy rich’ and the ‘envious poor’ participate on equal footing in decision-making,
with the ‘middle class’ preserving a precarious balance.81 None of this follows necessarily from the situation at hand: the Athenian king’s supposition that Adrastus was
put on the fatal course of action by ambitious advisors seems at best an inspired guess,
and his subsequent reference to the ‘three classes’ is, if anything, associative;82 but
while Theseus’ diagnosis of what is wrong with Argos is hardly warranted by the
mythical situation, it is quite relevant to the political positioning of Athens itself, as a
place where, purportedly, the danger posed by private ambition is moderated through
the principle of mass participation.
3.2 The ἀγών in Athens
The episode continues by developing Theseus’ positive vision of a policy based on respect for the gods’ superior wisdom on the one hand, and on the involvement of what
ροντες ἀστούς κτλ. (‘You were led astray by young men who enjoy being honoured and who multiply
wars without justice, to the hurt of the citizens...’).
80
The hybristic nature of the Seven’s expedition is likely to have been a feature of the story as told in
the epic Thebaid (cf. Davies, Epic Cycle 26-7), and features prominently in A. Sept. (see e.g. De Vito,
‘Amphiaraus & Necessity’). All the same, to many scholars, Theseus’ attitude has seemed wrongheaded or perverse: thus Gamble, ‘Decision & Ambivalence’ 388 observes that Theseus seems to be
devoid of the “notion of a common humanity shared by suppliant and supplicated”; and notes that “the
entire play works towards the nullification of Theseus’ view of the world” (ibid. 389n.: similarly negative takes on Theseus can be found in e.g. Greenwood, Aspects 108-12; Fitton, ‘Suppliant Women’).
Even those more sympathetic to Theseus have commented on his detached and legalistic response to a
situation that should – or so one would expect – evoke pity and empathy: see e.g. Burian, ‘Logos & Pathos’ 132-3; Mastronarde, ‘Optimistic Rationalist’ 203.
81
Suppl. 238-45: ‘There are three classes of citizens: the rich are useless and always lusting for more;
the poor who lack their daily bread are dangerous, for they pursue in envy and hurl their stings against
the rich, being deceived by the tongues of wicked leaders. Of the three classes, only the middle preserves πόλεις by keeping the order that the πόλις establishes’. On this passage, cf. Michelini, ‘Political
Themes’ 227-30 with references.
82
Accordingly, the larger part of Theseus’ speech has incurred some modern editors’ suspicion: the
dramatic action requires no more than Theseus’ observation that the Seven’s expedition lacked divine
sanction. Collard on Suppl. 222-45 discusses the numerous excisions proposed by earlier editors, to
which may be added the proposal of Kovacs, ‘Tyrants & Demagogues’ 34-5.
Chapter III
109
he calls the ‘middle class’ on the other. Then, as if to exemplify these two disparate
qualities, Theseus’ mother Aethra, the Eleusinian priestess who originally welcomed
the Suppliants in Attica, speaks up:
Ae.
The.
Ae.
The.
Ae.
–
–
–
–
–
εἴπω τι, τέκνον, σοί τε καὶ πόλει καλόν;
ὡς πολλά γ’ ἐστὶ κἀπὸ θηλειῶν σοφά.
ἀλλ’ εἰς ὄκνον µοι µῦθος ὃν κεύθω φέρει.
αἰσχρόν γ’ ἔλεξας, χρῆστ’ ἔπη κρύπτειν φίλους.
οὔτοι σιωπῶσ’ εἶτα µέµφοµαί ποτε
τὴν νῦν σιωπὴν ὡς ἐσιγήθη κακῶς,
οὐδ’ ὡς ἀχρεῖον τὰς γυναῖκας εὖ λέγειν
δείσασ’ ἀφήσω τῶι φόβωι τοὐµὸν καλόν.
295
300
‘May I say something, son, that is good for you and for the πόλις?’
‘Certainly; even women can often be heard to say clever things.’
‘But the suggestion I have in mind makes me hesitate.’
‘Keeping good words from your φίλοι – that would be shameful!’
‘Then I shall not hold my tongue and at some later time tell myself
that my present silence was a bad thing. Nor shall I allow fear to
keep me from doing what good I can, as if it were useless for a
woman to speak well.’
From Aethra’s own point of view, this elaborate hedging serves as a necessary politeness strategy: she is after all, in 5th-cent. terms, a political outsider − a woman − who
deigns to question the king’s decision.83 More importantly, however, Aethra’s extended negotiation of her right to speak inscribes itself in 5th- and 4th-cent. democratic ideology, which regarded it as a civic obligation to contribute to the πόλις’ wellbeing.84 Aethra’s contribution is sophisticated and astute; and it is successful in achieving what the audience must have felt was the ‘right’ course of action all along – the
honouring of the Suppliants’ request. Being the religious authority that she is, she first
invokes the obligations due to the gods (τὰ τῶν θεῶν, 301); then, the τιµή to be gained
(306); and finally the νόµοι to be upheld (313). Standing by and doing nothing would
amount to ἀνανδρία (314) and ἡσυχία (324); interfering in the Argives’ conflict with
Thebes, by contrast, would be the ‘just’ way to proceed (σὺν δίκηι, 328).85 In reject83
Mendelsohn, Gender & the City 162-8 emphasises Aethra’s “violation of norms regarding women’s
speech” (168n.54). On the political implications of tragic women’s relative freedom of speech, cf. Roisman, ‘Women’s Free Speech’ 100-2.
84
For παρρησία as a civic duty, cf. Carter, ‘Citizen Attribute’ 217-9. Goff, ‘Aithra at Eleusis’ reads the
Aethra scene with reference to the role of the “mourning female” in the representation of Athenian
civic identity; cf. also Mendelsohn, Gender & the City 176-9.
85
For Aethra’s manipulation of key political concepts that would have struck a sensitive chord with the
spectators, cf. e.g. Burian, ‘Logos & Pathos’ 136; Mills, Theseus 66-9 and 115-23; Mendelsohn, Gender & the City 172-4.
110
Chapter III
ing the Suppliants’ request, Theseus had all these things in mind; but he failed to relate them to Athens’ position, preferring instead to apply them to a judgment of the
causes of the Seven’s present misfortune. The Athenian king acknowledges as much,
when he says:
ἐµοὶ λόγοι µέν, µῆτερ, οἱ λελεγµένοι
ὀρθῶς ἔχουσ’ ἐς τόνδε κἀπεφηνάµην
γνώµην ὑφ’ οἵων ἐσφάλη βουλευµάτων.
ὁρῶ δὲ κἀγὼ ταῦθ’ ἅπερ µε νουθετεῖς,
ὥς τοῖς ἐµοῖσιν οὐχὶ πρόσφορον τρόποις
φεύγειν τὰ δεινά.
335
‘Mother, I believe the words I spoke to Adrastos were correct, when
I gave my opinion about the policy that brought him low. Still, like
you, I can see the point of your admonishments: it is not in accordance with my ways to run from danger.’
The salient point in Theseus’ change of mind is the king’s recognition that the ‘correctness’ of his previous point of view does not imply a closure: his criticisms of
Adrastus and Argive politics ‘hold true’ (ὀρθῶς ἔχουσι) – but even so, the king is
willing to accommodate the considerations advanced by Aethra. We may let ourselves
be reminded here of the words of Children of Heracles’s Chorus, when they state the
principle on which Athenian decision-making is premised (‘Who can judge a case or
grasp a λόγος before having heard both sides’ stories?’). The exchange described
above neatly follows this precept: the issue at hand (should the Suppliants’ plea be accepted or not) entails considerations that are contrary but complementary, and can
therefore be judged by giving due prevalence to the weightiest consideration. It remains for this felicitous outcome to be ratified through the proper channels: for as
Theseus duly explains, Athens is a city ‘in which the δῆµος is sovereign and votes are
equal’.86 But that process, it seems, has a foregone conclusion: the real deliberation
has been acted out on-stage.87
86
Suppl. 352-3: καὶ γὰρ κατέστησ’ αὐτὸν [sc. τὸν δῆµον] ἐς µοναρχίαν | ἐλευθερώσας τήνδ’ ἰσόψηφον
πόλιν (‘After becoming the king of the people, I freed this city and established equal voting’).
87
In his prospective remarks following his exchange with Aethra, Theseus is confident that the δῆµος
will comply with his will and approve his decision after he has ‘presented the case’ to them (τοῦ λόγου
| προσδούς 350-1): having Adrastus as ‘living proof of what he is going to say’ (δεῖγµα τῶν ἐµῶν
λόγων 354), he will not fail to ‘persuade’ (πείσας 355) the citizens. Critics hostile to Theseus (cf.
above, n.80) read in these lines the marks of a crypto-tyrannical position; but see below, section 3.4.
Chapter III
111
3.3 Thebes versus Athens
Thus, Suppliant Women’s first episode presents two successive paradigms of political
deliberation: a negative paradigm, grafted upon the situation allegedly pertaining in
timocratic Argos, where self-interested war-mongerers wreak havoc upon their πόλις;
and, issuing from it, a positive paradigm associated with democratic Athens, where
deliberation takes the form of a constructive exchange. Before the second paradigm
can be brought to its expected apogee, however, the idyll is brutally disturbed by the
entrance of a Theban Herald who attempts to dissuade the Athenian king from getting
his decision ratified by the δῆµος. Many commentators have felt that the ensuing
‘democracy debate’ that occupies the play’s second episode is quite detached from the
play’s dramatic action;88 and Theseus himself repeatedly reproaches the Theban for
his garrulousness and failure to stick to the point.89 On closer inspection, however, the
debate takes a central place in the play’s examination of the deliberative process, by
separating out what can be seen as different aspects of Theseus’ complicated position,
and by confronting the spectators with an actual, exemplary ἀγὼν λόγων from which
they are invited to draw their own conclusions.
Whereas in the scenes discussed in the previous sections, the idea of the ἀγών
was not explicitly mentioned as such, now, at the opening of Suppliant Women’s formal agon scene, it makes a sweeping entrance. The Theban Herald appears on stage
asking naturally enough for ‘the τύραννος of this land’ (399), and Theseus takes this
inadvertent slip as a cue for a punchy exposition of democratic ideology: Athens is
not ruled by one man, it is ‘free’.90 The Herald in his turn takes this uncalled-for recital of democratic ideology as a cue for what he himself has to say: in his own words,
Theseus ‘put him one point ahead, as in a game of πεσσοί’.91 The Herald’s seemingly
trivial reference to a board-game serves as a signpost for the ‘agonistic’ exchange that
is about to ensue; and at the same time, it thematises the agonistic nature of the debate’s subject itself: for the most widely played Greek πεσσοί game – and arguably
the one many spectators would have thought of upon hearing the Herald’s words –
was a game called ‘πόλις’.92 The Herald and Theseus, bickering about the correct way
88
E.g. Duchemin, AGON 134: “ “Euripide en était arrivé... à se contenter d’une très lâche et parfois très
artificielle association d’idées entre le drame lui-même et la question débattue dans l’ἀγών. Il y a même
une pièce [viz. Suppl.] dans laquelle un débat n’a strictement aucun rapport avec la situation des personnages... absolument un hors-d’oeuvre”; cf. Conacher, ‘Rhetoric & Relevance’ 23-5; Heath, Poetics
134.
89
Suppl. 426-8: κόµψος γ’ ὁ κῆρυξ καὶ παρεργάτης λόγων· | ἐπεὶ δ’ ἀγῶνα καὶ σὺ τόνδ’ ἠγωνίσω, |
ἄκου’· ἅµιλλαν γὰρ σὺ προύθηκας λόγων (‘The herald is being clever, and digresses; but since it is you
who started this ἀγών, listen – for you’re the one who initiated this contest of λόγοι’). Cf. lines 456-62,
where Theseus blames the detour on the Herald’s ‘garrulousness’.
90
Suppl. 403-8; other foreign Heralds ask the same question (A. Suppl. 930-3; E. Hcld. 114), but get
straightforward answers.
91
Suppl. 409-10: ἓν µὲν τόδ’ ἡµῖν ὥσπερ ἐν πεσσοῖς δίδως | κρεῖσσον.
92
The game is explained by e.g. Pollux, Onom. 9.98: it was a kind of battle game, played with many
112
Chapter III
of running a city, can thus be seen to play the ‘πόλις game’ in more than one way: as
much as anything else, this is a debate about the nature of debating.
After claiming the first point in this ‘πόλις game’, the Herald proceeds immediately with an indictment of Athenian deliberative procedure, articulated against the
foil of Theban-style one-man rule:
πόλις γὰρ ἧς ἐγὼ πάρειµ’ ἄπο
ἑνὸς πρὸς ἀνδρὸς, οὐκ ὄχλωι, κρατύνεται·
οὐδ’ ἔστιν αὐτὴν ὅστις ἐκχαυνῶν λόγοις
πρὸς κέρδος ἴδιον ἄλλοτ’ ἄλλοσε στρέφει.
τὸ δ’ αὐτίχ’ ἡδὺς καὶ διδοὺς πολλὴν χάριν,
ἐσαῦθις ἔβλαψ’· εἶτα διαβολαῖς νέαις
κλέψας τὰ πρόσθε σφάλµατ’ ἐξέδυ δίκης.
ἄλλως τε πῶς ἂν µὴ διορθεύων λόγους
ὀρθῶς δύναιτ’ ἂν δῆµος εὐθύνειν πόλιν;
ὁ γὰρ χρόνος µάθησιν ἀντὶ τοῦ τάχους
κρείσσω δίδωσι. γαπόνος δ’ ἀνὴρ πένης,
εἰ καὶ γένοιτο µὴ ἀµαθής, ἔργων ὕπο
οὐκ ἄν δύναιτο πρὸς τὰ κοίν’ ἀποβλέπειν.
ἦ δὴ νοσῶδες τοῦτο τοῖς ἀµείνοσιν,
ὅταν πονηρὸς ἀξίωµ’ ἀνὴρ ἔχηι
γλώσσηι κατασχὼν δῆµον, οὐδὲν ὢν τὸ πρίν.
410
415
420
425
‘The city I have come from is ruled by one man and not by a rabble.
There is no one to puff up the city with λόγοι, and lead it this way and
that, to his own advantage: on the short term such a man is pleasing
and acquires goodwill, but after a while he causes harm; and then with
further assaults conceals his earlier misdeeds, and slips out of reach of
justice. And what is more, how can the δῆµος govern the city in the
correct way, if they cannot even judge λόγοι correctly? For better
knowledge comes with time, not with haste. The poor farmer – even if
he does not remain uneducated – has no occasion, because of his
chores, to attend to public affairs. Surely you agree that the better sort
pieces of equal value and without dice – somewhat like modern checkers or gō. The verb πολιτεύεσθαι
(although it is not unambiguously attested in this sense) would probably have been used to refer to the
playing of this game. As Kurke, ‘Board Games’ 258-9 cautiously suggests, exploitation of the
polysemy of this verb may well provide the punch-line of an anecdote about Heraclitus preserved in
DL 9.3 (= 22A1: caught out while playing a game of knucklebones with some children, the sage allegedly asked, “Is it not better to do this than to play the polis game with you? [ἢ οὐ κρεῖττον ταῦτα ποιεῖν
ἢ µεθ’ ὑµῶν πολιτεύεσθαι;]”). In her wide-ranging analysis of the ‘political’ subtext of Greek boardgame playing, Kurke does not consider the passage under discussion, which I believe supports her interpretation of the Heraclitus anecdote.
Chapter III
113
find it a nuisance, when a man of low birth achieves prominence by
enthralling the δῆµος with his tongue, when he was nothing before.’
David Kovacs has claimed that the Herald’s argument “meanders” from unprincipled
speakers to incompetent speakers and back again to unprincipled speakers;93 but this
assessment seems to rely on a misinterpretation of διορθεύων λόγους in 417, which
Kovacs, following Collard, takes to refer to the ‘composition’ of λόγοι. Kovacs’ objection disappears when we take the hapax διορθεύω to mean ‘straighten out’ or ‘steer
in the right direction’, and make it refer to the δῆµος’s competence to judge λόγοι,
rather than make them:94 just as the more common verb διορθόω refers to the complementary activities of ‘judging’ and ‘amending’, so the Herald’s phrase seems to
imply that the δῆµος was expected to ‘assess’ cases and, in ratifying the λόγος they
deem the best, ‘put them right’.95 We have seen that the Thucydidean Pericles assigns
a similar role to the δῆµος in his funeral oration (as does the Thucydidean Athenagoras after him),96 and elsewhere likewise insists on the importance of ‘straightening
out’ the city’s affairs.97 On this reading, the passage quoted above, rather than “meandering”, is neatly organised to articulate two complementary points: a. the Herald’s
anxiety about the scope democracy affords to accomplished speakers with dubious intentions, and b. his scepticism concerning the δῆµος’s competence to distinguish good
proposals from bad ones. The first point is made in lines 410-16, warning against the
93
Kovacs, ‘Tyrants & Demagogues’ 41; in his Loeb edition, Kovacs accordingly athetises Suppl. 414-6
and notes with apparent approval Kirchhoff’s deletion of 423-5.
94
So also Morwood ad loc. (“assess”); Yunis, Taming Democracy 41n.6. By contrast, Collard on
Suppl. 417 [p. 221] takes διορθεύω λόγους to mean ‘straight, honest speaking’ (coll. IA 507 ὑπέθηκας
ὀρθῶς τοὺς λόγους); and Kovacs translates accordingly, “make a speech properly”.
95
Cf. LSJ9 s.v. διορθόω II. The only classical-period instance of διορθόω with obj. λόγον vel sim. that I
can find is P. Ol. 7.20-1 ἐθελήσω τοῖσιν... | ξυνὸν ἀγγέλλων διορθῶσαι λόγον, where Race translates “I
intend, in proclaiming my message [ἀγγέλλων], to set forth truly for them their shared history” (apparently following Gildersleeve’s note “διορθῶσαι = διελθεῖν ὀρθῶς”); but the verb’s normal sense ‘put
right’ or ‘amend’ makes for a much more effective introduction to Pindar’s idiosyncratic retelling of
the myth that follows. The unique form in -ευω at Suppl. 417 may be considered analogous to -ευω
verbs formed from agent nouns in -ης (e.g. πυκτεύω ‘engage in boxing’ from πύκτης ‘boxer’); and accordingly, διορθεύω may be taken to mean something like ‘engage in judging’ (as if from ×διόρθης
‘judge’).
96
Pericles: Thuc. 2.40.2, αὐτοὶ ἤτοι κρίνοµέν γε ἢ ἐνθυµοῦµεθα ὀρθῶς τὰ πράγµατα (cf. above n.31);
Athenagoras: Thuc. 6.39.1, ἐγὼ δέ φηµι πρῶτα µὲν δῆµον ξύµπαν ὠνοµάσθαι... ἔπειτα φύλακας µὲν
ἀρίστους εἶναι χρηµάτων τοὺς πλουσίους, βουλεῦσαι δ’ ἂν βέλτιστα τοὺς ξυνετούς, κρῖναι δ’ ἂν
ἀκούσαντας ἄριστα τοὺς πολλούς (‘I say that what we call the δῆµος comprises the whole... and that
the rich are best at guarding finances, the intelligent are best at counselling, and the many are best at
listening and judging’).
97
Thuc. 2.60.2: ἐγὼ γὰρ ἡγοῦµαι πόλιν πλείω ξύµπασαν ὀρθουµένην ὠφελεῖν κτλ. (‘I believe it is most
profitable when the polis as a whole is put on the right track’).
114
Chapter III
potential danger of crowd-pleasers; the second (after a clearly marked transition:
ἄλλως τε) in 417-22; and the conclusion (423-5) subsumes both points in the powerful
image of the low-life rabble-rouser who acquires undeserved ἀξίωµα.
Even if it can be shown to be internally consistent, however, the Herald’s
speech may still seem like a rather general, topical condemnation of Athenian-style
democracy, rather than an organic part of Suppliant Women’s action.98 Certainly,
there are many points of contact between the passage cited above and later-5th-cent.
critiques of democratic practice: thus, the idea that the δῆµος is more concerned with
keeping itself in power than with sound government is the guiding thought of the
anonymous Athenaion Politeia;99 the fatal influence of smooth-talking demagogues
on the Assembly is a topic addressed in, e.g., Aristophanes’ Knights and Peace;100
both Aristophanes and Thucydides relate the belligerence of Cleon, demagogue par
excellence, to his desire to cover up his crimes and lend credit to his διαβολαί (cf.
Suppl. 415-6);101 and, as many scholars have pointed out, the Herald’s case against
democracy generally resembles that of Megabyzus in the constitutional debate reported by Herodotus (3.80-3). But for all its surface appearance as a rag-bag of antidemocratic commonplaces,102 the Herald’s speech aligns itself closely with the preceding dramatic action, as it picks up Theseus’ earlier strictures on the deliberative
process that made Adrastus ruin his city’s prospects. The man who ‘puffs up the πόλις
with his λόγοι’103 recalls the young men ‘who care only for their own positions’ and
steer the city on a disastrous course of action;104 the πονηρὸς ἀνήρ who enthralls the
δῆµος with his tongue recall Theseus’ πονηροὶ προσταταί who ‘deceive the have-nots
98
Thus, Lloyd, Agon 80, while acknowledging the “relevance of the issues themselves”, nonetheless
regards the ‘agon’ scene as a “general discussion of democracy” (my emphasis).
99
E.g. [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 1.6-9, where the speaker claims that ‘to let everybody speak and serve on the
council on equal terms’ ([µὴ] ἐᾶν λέγειν πάντας ἐξ ἴσης µηδὲ βουλεύειν) is ‘excellent’ (ἄριστα) – at
least in so far as this procedure helps to perpetuate the democratic constitution. Within this constitution,
the ignorance (ἀµαθία), baseness (πονηρία) and goodwill (εὔνοια) of the δῆµος is continually at odds
with the excellence (ἀρετή), the wisdom (σοφία) and distrust (κακόνοια) of the χρηστοί. This situation
is wholly unconducive towards anything like ‘good government’ (εὐνοµουµένης τῆς πόλεως) – but on
this speaker’s account, good government is the last of the δῆµος’s concerns.
100
101
E.g. Ar. Eq. 40-65, Pax 632-48: see the literature cited above, n.43.
Thuc. 5.16.1: Cleon opposed peace, γενοµένης ἡσυχίας καταφανέστερος νοµίζων ἂν εἶναι
κακουργῶν καὶ ἀπιστότερος διαβάλλων; cf. Ar. Eq. 801-9. As Gomme on Thuc. loc cit. (p. 660-1)
points out, Aristophanes − but not, of course, Thucydides − imputes the same motives to Pericles for
starting the Peloponnesian war (Pax 605-11; cf. Olson ad loc.).
102
An appearance sometimes taken at face value by modern commentators: cf. n.111 below.
103
For the sense of (ἐκ)χαυνόω, cf. E. Andr. 931 (Hermione:) αἵ µοι λέγουσαι τούσδ’ ἐχαύνωσαν
λόγους – αἵ referring to the women (later called ‘Sirens’, 936) who set Hermione up against Andromache and caused her to be ‘inflated (ἐξηνεµώθην) with µωρίαι’ (938). The word is frequent in Aristophanes’ political satire: cf. Taillardat, Images 264-6 and MacDowell on Ar. Vesp. 721.
104
Suppl. 232-7, partly cited at n.79 above.
Chapter III
115
with their tongues’ (243); and the Herald’s conviction that the δῆµος as a whole is unfit to govern recalls Theseus’ distrust of both the rich and the poor end of his own
constituency (238-45).105 Thus, the Herald’s speech establishes itself as a focused attack on a particular aspect of Athenian democracy – an aspect, moreover, that his opponent had already singled out in his own indictment of Argive argument culture.
How does Theseus come back to this? In his reply to the Herald’s attack, the
Athenian king combines generalities – the general repugnance of tyranny to Athenian
sensibilities – with a eulogy of Athens’ argument culture in particular. ‘Freedom’, he
says, consists in allowing whoever wants to contribute to the public cause to have his
say;106 and Athens’ commitment to this principle overrides any benefit that its governors would derive from another mode of decision-making.107 Theseus practically admits that sound government is predicated in principle on the proliferation of λόγοι –
on everybody getting the chance to contribute verbally to the collective’s well-being.
That this is, indeed, the Athenian king’s conviction is something that the audience has already had occasion to learn from Theseus’ tête à tête with his mother,
which allowed him to consider a novel perspective on the issue at hand, alongside his
own ‘correct’ arguments against helping the Suppliants. Here, the dogmatic statement
of this conviction, however, starts the Herald off on the second installment of his contribution to the ἀγών. He begins his speech with a simple ultimatum: Athens is to turn
the Suppliants from its borders, and reject their plea for help; if not, there will be war
(465-75). That said, he warns Theseus against taking a rash decision:
σκέψαι δέ, καὶ µὴ τοῖς ἐµοῖς θυµούµενος
λόγοισιν, ὡς δὴ πόλιν ἐλευθέραν ἔχων,
σφριγῶντ’ ἀµείψηι µῦθον ἐκ βραχιόνων.
(476-80)
‘Think it over, and do not, in angry reaction to my words, claiming as
you are bound to do that you ‘live in a free city’, make a boastful answer on slender grounds.’
After thus taking up Theseus’ preceding definition of Athens’ ‘freedom’, the Herald
then proceeds to argue against submitting the issue at hand to be judged in the city’s
agonistic forums. For even if this issue admitted of multiple, competing λόγοι – as the
Herald is willing to grant for argument’s sake – every man should nevertheless know
which one was the stronger:
ὅταν γὰρ ἔλθηι πόλεµος ἐς ψῆφον λεώ,
105
On the similarities between Theseus’ first speech and the Herald’s contribution to the ‘democracy
debate’, cf. further Smith, ‘Expressive Form’ 169; Lloyd, Agon 81.
106
Suppl. 438-9: τοὐλεύθερον δ’ ἐκεῖνο· “τίς θέλει πόλει | χρηστόν τι βούλευµ’ ἐς µέσον φέρειν ἔχων;”
(‘This is what freedom consists of: who wants to bring before the public a proposal that is helpful to
the city?’).
107
Suppl. 429-32 and 441-55 (the latter passage deleted for its seeming irrelevance by Kovacs).
116
Chapter III
οὐδεὶς ἔθ’ αὑτοῦ θάνατον ἐκλογίζεται,
τὸ δυστυχὲς δὲ τοῦτ’ ἐς ἄλλον ἐκτρέπει.
εἰ δ’ ἦν παρ’ ὄµµα θάνατος ἐν ψήφου φορᾶι,
οὐκ ἄν ποθ’ Ἕλλὰς δοριµανὴς ἀπώλλυτο.
καίτοι δυοῖν γε πάντες ἄνθρωποι λόγοιν
τὸν κρείσσον’ ἴσµεν, καὶ τὰ χρηστὰ καὶ κακά,
ὅσωι τε πολέµου κρεῖσσον εἰρήνη βροτοῖς.
485
‘When war comes to the vote of the people, no-one reckons with his
own death: he averts this disaster upon his neighbour. If during the
voting each man looked death in the eye, then Greece would not be
perishing from spear-madness. And then: of two opposing λόγοι, we
humans all know which one is better: what is good and what is bad,
and how much better peace is for mankind than war.’
Expanding on what he said in the first instalment of the debate, the Herald here explains in what respect the δῆµος is ‘unable to judge and amend λόγοι’: relinquishing
private insight for a collective vision, the constituency will plump for a decision that
each man individually would ‘know’ to be wrong. In order for the πόλις to be ‘governed correctly’, those in control of public affairs must be able to relate whatever
comes along to their private insight; and since everybody knows that peace is preferable over war, there is no point in debating the issue. The Theban’s phrasing (δυοῖν
λόγοιν ... τὸν κρείσσονα ἴσµεν) clearly alludes to the Protagorean notion that there are
‘two λόγοι’ to be made out of any πρᾶγµα – but only to reject its corollary, viz. the
idea that the ἥττων of these two can be made κρείττων. Not so, on the Herald’s account: adherence to private insight and general moral principles equips mankind with
a secure criterion for judging between competing accounts; and hence, at least potentially, with a means for achieving sound government.108
Accordingly, the Herald concludes his speech by asking Theseus rhetorically,
‘Was it wrong, then...’ that each of the Seven was struck down by the gods (οὔ τἄρ’
ἔτ’ ὀρθῶς κτλ., 496-503)? Surely, to deny that the gods were ‘right’ to inflict this punishment upon the agressors is to presume to ‘know better than Zeus’?109 We recall
that, as Theseus first considered the Argive Suppliants’ request for aid, he similarly
108
It may be noted here that, as the agon scene progresses, the parameters of the debate shift: the Her-
ald started off with simply juxtaposing Theban tyranny with Athenian democracy, but by the time he
comes to take issue with the idea of the ‘two λόγοι’ that he considers to be fundamental to Athenian deliberative practice, he conspicuously includes himself in what must consequently be considered an observation with universal validity – cf. Suppl. 491-3: ταῦτ’ ἀφέντες οἱ κακοὶ | πολέµους ἀναιρούµεθα
καὶ τὸν ἥσσονα δουλούµεθα (‘we worthless mortals let go of these good things, starting wars and enslaving the weak’): we all stand to gain by abandoning the idea that sound government is based on the
proliferation of λόγοι.
109
Suppl. 504-5: ἤ νυν φρονεῖν ἄµεινον ἐξαύχει ∆ιὸς | ἤ θεοὺς δικαίως τοὺς κακοὺς ἀπολλύναι (‘Either
boast that you know better than Zeus or admit that the gods were right to destroy the wicked’).
Chapter III
117
invoked the absolute superiority of divine judgment over mere human ratiocinations
(esp. Suppl. 216-8, cited in n. 76 above); and so, by this stage of the drama, we seem
to have come full circle. When the Athenian king rejected the Suppliants on the
strength of a pertinent but one-sided assessment of Argive politics, he was ‘corrected’
by Aethra; now, as Theseus defends democratic procedure against the Theban’s criticism, he finds himself ticked off once more, on the strength of his own previous argument.
3.4 Suppliant Women and the idea of the ἀγών
Thus, the three loci in which Suppliant Women’s reflection on the idea of the ἀγών is
situated can ultimately be seen to overlap: the Theban Herald sees in ‘Athens’ what
the Athenian king Theseus saw in ‘Argos’; and what both men see, though not at the
same time, is the precariousness of a deliberative practice based on the proliferation of
λόγοι. This precariousness is acknowledged both by Theseus and by the Herald: they
differ only in the conclusions they derive from their common diagnosis, Theseus staking his trust on a ‘middle class’ to maintain a balance between the ambition of the rich
and the greediness of the poor, his interlocutor forcefully rejecting this recourse.
What is an audience to make of this complicated negotiation of the feasibility
of agonistic deliberation? Of course, in principle, any spectator is as free to be ‘for’ or
‘against’ either Theseus or the Theban, as s/he is to accept, with the Heracles of Euripides’ Hercules, that ‘true divinity has no needs’ (cf. above, Intro. section 2): there
is no authoritative voice within the drama to tell him/her one way or the other. On the
other hand, in ordering the dramatic development of his play, Euripides has not made
it particularly easy for his audience to choose at all; and the effects of this authorial
distanciation can clearly be seen in the polarised history of Suppliant Women’s reception: some, privileging the Theban’s perspective, have regarded the entire drama as a
satirical exposition of the hollowness of democratic ideology;110 others have dismissed the criticism of democracy contained in the play out of hand, on the assumption that the Theban is just an apologist for a reprehensible system, no more than
that.111
In reaction to such one-sided approaches, some scholars have observed that
both Theseus’ eulogy and the Theban’s criticism seem to convey “partial truths”
about Athenian democracy;112 but this line of approach all the more forcefully raises
the question how the drama makes these ‘partial truths’ cohere with one another.
What did Euripides seek to gain by distributing his reflections on Athens’ deliberative
110
See n. 80 & 87 above.
111
E.g. Raaflaub, ‘Contemporary Views’ 45-6: “The merits of democracy are extolled e contrario... all
we have here is a rehash of the negative typology of tyranny”; Mills, Theseus 121n.150: “What the
Theban says is instantly discredited by his identity as a messenger from a state run by a tyrant, and
since the criticisms of democracy he expresses are entirely standard, Euripides might expect that the
audience would automatically have countered them with standard defences” (my emphases).
112
Cf. e.g. Burian, ‘Logos & Pathos’ 155; Lloyd, Agon 82-3.
118
Chapter III
culture over two characters whose viewpoints overlap as well as differ? It could be
argued that Theseus (who at the time of action is still quite young) is depicted, as it
were, as growing into the democratic values that he eventually upholds; yet such a
full-blown character development in such a short compass would be hard to credit; 113
and even if we allow for such a character development, the awkward fact remains that
the Athenian king fails to respond adequately to his opponent’s objections.114
I would argue that an adequate interpretation of what happens in Suppliant
Women must take into account the curious doubling effect, already remarked upon
above, occasioned by the Theban Herald and Theseus debating about the ἀγών in
what is itself emphatically characterised as an ἀγών: form and content of the ‘agon’
scene coincide, to the extent that the apparent inconclusiveness of the dramatic debate
reflects a defining characteristic of the ἀγών as an institution – and vice versa. In Suppliant Women, everything and every one is subsumed into the idea of the ἀγών. Thus,
we remember that early on in the play, Theseus frames his first reaction to the Suppliants’ request in terms of a ‘debate he once had with other men’, in which some opponent ‘defended the opposite position’ from the one that Theseus is now presenting
anew.115 This seemingly gratuitous introduction indicates from the outset that Theseus’ summary rejection of the Suppliants’ request admits of a counterargument – this
counterargument, now suppressed, in fact having apparently already once been made
in the past. In the Aethra scene, where Theseus is both ‘contestant’ and ‘judge’ in the
deliberation of the issue at hand, the Athenian king successfully assimilates his
mother’s counter-proposal, and so harmonises the two opposing view-points into
something that constitutes a sound decision – viz., to aid the Suppliants after all.
Then, with the Theban Herald, Theseus engages in a new ἀγών: a ‘game of draughts’
on the subject of sound government. It should not surprise us, then, to the extent that
it has surprised some commentators that in this debate, Theseus once more proposes a
one-sided argument, to counter the Herald’s equally one-sided criticism of Athens’
argument culture: as a true Athenian, Theseus proceeds always by means of debate –
and in this debate about the nature of debating, it is left to the audience to weigh the
two λόγοι against one another and decide on a ‘winner’. Theseus’ eulogy and the Herald’s unrefuted criticism are there, not to be explained away, but somehow to be harmonised with one another, by the people of Athens as represented in the Dionysia audience; and thus, whatever verdict on the value of ‘democracy’ may emerge from this
113
Scholars who read the intractability of Theseus’ position in terms of character development – e.g.
Mastronarde, ‘Optimistic Rationalist’ 202-3; Lloyd, Agon 77-8 – readily admit that such a development
is unparallelled in Euripidean tragedy.
114
Cf. e.g. Di Benedetto, Teatro e società 180-1; Burian, ‘Logos & Pathos’ 140-1 (“Theseus is de-
picted... as the founder of a regime in which the people are sovereign, but follow the will of a highminded leader. The herald opposes this ideal by contrasting it to the grating reality of Athenian democratic practice during the ascendancy of demagogues such as Cleon. The inconclusive quality of the debate stems largely from the fact that Theseus upholds his ideal without confronting this reality”).
115
Cited above, n.75.
Chapter III
119
exercise (this is likely to have varied according to the predilections of the individuals
that compose the audience), the drama itself can be seen to uphold all the more forcefully the idea of the ἀγών as a viable vehicle for moral deliberation.
4. Hecuba and the importance of being earnest
I now turn to another drama commonly dated to the late 420s: Euripides’ Hecuba.116
Many scholars have read this play as a harsh exposure – or at least a critical probing –
of Athens’ imperialist aspirations, and of the war-time rhetoric that some of its principal politicians used to justify these aspirations. My main interest in what follows will
be in documenting Hecabe’s ongoing engagement with the conquering Greeks’ preferred mode of decision-making; and I shall conclude that this aspect of the play’s
overall meaning entails a more positive perspective on Greek wartime politics than
has often been assumed.117 It can thus be read side by side with Suppliant Women, as
an illustration of the way Euripides thought about the idea of the ἀγὼν λόγων at this
particular point in time.
4.1 Hecabe and Odysseus
After an expository prologue speech, Hecuba’s dramatic action begins with the Chorus’ report of a debate among the Greek army. The Greeks and their Trojan captives
are detained on the homeward journey, for Achilles has put in a posthumous appearance to demand that Hecabe’s daughter Polyxena be sacrificed on his grave (35ff.);
and now the army deliberate whether to comply with the dead hero’s request or not.
Unlike e.g. the secret deliberation about Iphigenia’s fate in Euripides’ IA, this debate
takes place in a ‘full assembly’ (ἐν Ἀχαιῶν πλήρει ξυνόδωι, 107), and its issue is a
black-and-white one.118 Polyxena’s cause was furthered by Agamemnon, in recognition of his commitment to her sister Cassandra (120-2); while on the other side it is
argued that the army’s debts to Achilles outweigh the leader’s personal bonds of loy-
116
For the date of Hecuba, see Mossman, Wild Justice 5.
117
For tragic poets’ tendency to equate rhetorical competence with Greek values, cf. Hall, Inventing the
Barbarian 200; Buxton, Persuasion 58-9 (who cites Isoc. 14.293-4 as an eloquent testimony to the
Greeks’ alleged monopoly on ‘persuasion’). Other Euripidean dramas that show an interest in confronting Others – notably, foreign women – with Greek institutions include Med. and Andr.: see esp. Boedeker, ‘Vanity of Λόγος’ who highlights Medea’s outsider perspective on the Greeks’ three prototypical discourse genres (oath, supplication and debate), and on Jason’s abuse of them. Readings that emphasise Hec.’s apparent criticism of Greek/Athenian war-time politics and rhetoric include Michelini,
Euripides ch. 5; Segal, ‘Violence & the Others’ and ‘Golden Armor’; Thalmann, ‘Hekabe’; MitchellBoyask, ‘Sacrifice & Revenge’; Mossman, Wild Justice (esp. ch. 3); and Barker, Entering the Agon ch.
6.
118
Hec. 117-8: δόξα δ’ ἐχώρει δίχ’ ἀν’ Ἑλλήνων | στρατὸν αἰχµητήν (‘There were two positions divid-
ing the Greek army’).
120
Chapter III
alty (126-9).119 A deadlock occurs, when ‘support for either of the opposing λόγοι was
more or less equal’;120 but is eventually resolved by Odysseus putting in his weight in
favour of killing Polyxena (πείθει στρατίαν 133).
In commenting on the Greek army’s debate, Judith Mossman observes that “it
is important for what follows that Polyxena is not killed by a lynch-mob but by a democratically reached decision and in an orderly, indeed ritual, fashion”.121 It should
be noted, however, that the suggestion that things proceeded as they should is somewhat undermined by the Chorus’s biased presentation of the events.122 As partisans of
Hecabe, they are extremely critical especially of Odysseus, whose contribution won
over the army to sign Polyxena’s death warrant;123 and Hecabe herself readily takes to
their point of view. When Odysseus appears to demand the surrender of Polyxena, the
Trojan queen reminds him that she once saved his life (239-50), so that he should
consider himself under a personal obligation to her (251-3); and she proceeds by
roundly condemning ‘those who covet the τιµαί of political leaders’ (ὅσοι
δηµηγόρους | ζηλοῦτε τιµάς, 254-5),124 as well as Odysseus specifically for harming
119
Agamemnon’s resistance to the sacrifice is challenged by a faction consisting of ‘the sons of The-
seus’ (Acamas and Demophon: cf. Iliou Persis fr. 23 Davies), who are called ‘ὄζω Ἀθηνῶν, δισσῶν
µύθων ῥήτορες’ (125). Against the foil of the Homeric expression ὄζος Ἄρηος, which has the connotation ‘good at fighting’ (see LfgrE s.v. ὄζος: 11 times in Il., always at line-end), the phrase ὄζω Ἀθηνῶν
acquires the (ironical?) connotation ‘good at doing what Athenians do’ – viz., ‘talking’. The term
ῥήτωρ, rare in extant tragedy but not in comedy, compounds this suggestion: by all accounts, it was a
vox propria for ‘Athenian politicians’ (cf. e.g. Ar. Eq. 60, 308; Thesm. 292; and Ach. 38 with Olson ad
loc. [p. 80]).
120
Hec. 130-1: σπουδαὶ δὲ λόγων κατατεινοµένων | ἦσαν ἴσαι πως.
121
Mossman, Wild Justice 72; cf. Barker, Entering the Agon 371-5, who emphasises the “overwhelm-
ing consensus” that surrounds the decision to sacrifice Polyxena.
122
The word ῥήτορες, as used at Hec. 125 of the ‘two sons of Theseus’ (above, n.120) frequently,
though not invariably, has a pejorative connotation: in its earliest Attic attestation (IG I3 46.25: ca. 450)
the word already refers to ‘trouble-makers’, and this connotation is clearly in force at E. fr. 597 τὸν δ’
(sc. τὸν νόµον) ἄνω τε καὶ κάτω | ῥήτωρ σπαράσσων πολλάκις λυµαίνεται.
123
Hec. 131-3: ... πρὶν ὁ ποικιλόφρων | κόπις ἡδυλόγος δηµοχαριστὴς | Λαερτιάδης πείθει στρατιάν
κτλ. (‘Until that wily-minded knave, the sweet-talking crowd-pleasing son of Laertes, convinced the
army that...’). These lines can be read as a pastiche on the formula διογενὲς Λαερτιάδη µολυµήχαν’
Ὀδυσσεῦ. For a collection of adverse references to the ambivalence of the hero’s verbal dexterity, see
LfgrE s.v. πολύκροτος (on the varia lectio πολύκροτον ‘of the many rattles’ for πολύτροπον at Od.
1.1). The word δηµοχαριστής may recall contemporary abuse of Cleon, who is unequivocally designated by Ar. Eq. 732-4 as a ‘lover of δῆµος’ (a judgement that accords with e.g. Thuc. 3.36.6 [τῶι τε
δήµωι παρὰ πολὺ ἐν τῶι τότε πιθανώτατος], cf. 4.21.3 and 27.5-28.6; [Arist.] Ath. Pol. 28.3, Plut. Nicias 8.3, Theopompus fr. 92).
124
In 4th-cent. usage, δηµαγωγός and δηµηγορεύω are often markedly negative (e.g. Lys. 25.9, cf.
Ostwald, Popular Sovereignty 201-3; Ober, Mass & Elite 107-8), though not invariably so (Lys. 27.10;
Chapter III
121
his φίλοι for the sake of being able to ‘say something τοῖσι πολλοῖς πρὸς χάριν’ (256).
These remarks echo, and expand on, the Chorus’ description of Odysseus as an unprincipled crowd-pleaser, and reveal that Hecabe doubts Odysseus’ genuine commitment to the position he defended in the Assembly: on her view, the hero is concerned
with winning for the sake of winning, rather than with pursuing sound policy.
Hecabe proceeds by wondering ‘what σόφισµα the Greeks had in mind’ when
they passed the death sentence on her daughter (258),125 and points out that they
posed the wrong question: rather than debating whether or not Polyxena must be
killed, they should have been arguing about the question whether it was Polyxena who
must be killed (258-70). On the strength of this argument Hecabe feels justified to reopen the debate,126 and to enlist Odysseus’ support for doing so (272-8). With Odysseus on her side, Hecabe claims, she cannot lose:
τὸ δ’ ἀξίωµα, κἂν κακῶς λέγηις, τὸ σὸν
πείσει· λόγος γὰρ ἔκ τ’ ἀδοξούντων ἰὼν
κἀκ τῶν δοκούντων αὑτὸς οὐ ταὐτὸν σθένει.
(293-5)
‘You do not even have to speak well: your prestige will convince
them. For the same λόγος has quite a different force if it is spoken by
a man of repute or a man of no reputation.’
As it turns out, then, Hecabe operates on the assumption that Odysseus, being the
δηµοχαριστής that the Chorus make him out to be, can be induced to defend any position, the ‘weaker’ as well as the stronger. The Chorus have described the debate of the
Greek army in terms of an ἀγών, and it is as an ἀγών − as a ‘contest’ in which able
speakers vie for the crowd’s χάρις just for the sake of winning the debate − that Hecabe has come to regard it. By her reckoning, if Odysseus could win the ἀγών arguing
one thing, then he can also win it arguing the other.
But Hecabe is in for an unpleasant surprise, for while Odysseus admits that he
is under a personal obligation to the Trojan queen (301-2), he is not willing to unsay
his contribution to the debate (ἃ δ’ εἶπον εἰς ἅπαντας οὐκ ἀρνήσοµαι, 303).127 His
Hyp. 5.17 speaks about the δίκαιος δηµαγωγός, Dem. 19.251-2 about Solon as one of οἱ δηµηγορούντων).
125
For the negative overtones of σοφίζεσθαι and its cognates in tragic diction, cf. above ch. I n.16.
126
Hec. 271: τῶι µὲν δικαίωι τόνδ’ ἁµιλλῶµαι λόγον – ‘I reopen this debate with justice on my side’, as
frequently σὺν δικῆι or σὺν τῶι δικαίωι (e.g. A. Eum. 610; S. Aj. 1125).
127
Pragmatically, the tragic expression οὐκ (ἀπ)αρνοῦµαι or ἀρνήσοµαι conveys the speaker’s strong
commitment to the proposition thus qualified, as well as to all that this proposition entails: thus, at A.
Ag. 1308, Clytaemestra admits to the killing of Agamemnon (οὕτω δ’ ἔπραξα), adding for good measure ‘καὶ τάδε οὐκ ἀρνήσοµαι’ (echoed at Eum. 463 and 611, by Orestes, with reference to the killing of
Clytaemestra; and, similarly, at E. Or. 1089 by Pylades); at PV 266, Prometheus claims that he has ‘offended willingly: οὐκ ἀρνήσοµαι’; and Sophocles’ Antigone boldly confirms the charges against her,
122
Chapter III
primary commitment, he says, is not to Hecabe but to Achilles, who has earned his
fellow countrymen’s enduring loyalty (309-10); moreover, this loyalty is both politically and diplomatically expedient (306-8; 311-7). Then, moving to a more personal
level of address, Odysseus draws a parallel between the χάρις due to Achilles and the
χάρις he hopes to receive himself when he is dead (καὶ µὴν ἔµοιγε … 317); and in the
second half of his reply juxtaposes Hecabe’s sorrow with that of her numerous counterparts in Greece (321-31). He has said it all in the Assembly, and he is ready to say
it again: the shade of Achilles must have what he asked for, and there will be no reopening of the debate.
Scholars have often asked themselves why it is that Hecabe fails in her attempt
to enlist Odysseus for her own cause: is it on account of an inherent weakness in the
arguments that she uses, or is it because she offends against the rules of good rhetoric?128 I believe that a much simpler reason for the queen’s failure can be found: quite
apart from what we think of the merits or demerits of her speech, she was wrong to
think that she could simply avail herself at will of the hero’s services in the first place.
In spite of the Chorus’s imputation that Odysseus is a ‘crowd-pleasing sweet-talker’
(Hec. 132, cited above n.123), the hero is, by his own words, strongly committed to
the substance of the proposals that he pushed in the army’s Assembly;129 and there is
no compelling reason to discount this assertion.130 The Chorus’s assessment of his
dramatic persona, emphatically biased as it is, is hardly authoritative: Sophocles’
Ajax, to name a convenient example, presents a more or less parallel case of an Odysseus character who, despite the Chorus’ initial assumption to the contrary,131 belies his
traditional profile. Similarly, or so I would argue, Hecuba’s Odysseus refuses to conform to the Chorus’ imputation that he is a mere ‘crowd-pleaser’: an able speaker, uncommitted to the substance of the proposals that he pushes, bent only on winning the
ἀγών. By his own words, he is genuinely committed to the λόγος that he stands by,
saying καὶ φηµὶ δρᾶσαι κοὐκ ἀπαρνοῦµαι τὸ µή (Ant. 443; cf. also S. Aj. 96, Phil. 527; E. Andr. 436).
This heavy resonance should make it clear that Odysseus means what he says (cf. below, n.131).
128
Weak arguments: e.g. Adkins, ‘Basic Greek Values’. Bad rhetoric: Riedweg, ‘Rhetor’ 27-8 with
references.
129
And with good reason too: the linchpin of Odysseus’ argument, ‘χάρις to the brave’, is a recurrent
topos in 5th-cent. funeral orations, and must therefore be presumed to touch a sensitive chord with the
audience – cf. Collard, ‘Funeral Oration’ (on E. Suppl. 857ff.) and more generally Loraux, Invention
42-56 and 77-131. For a full analysis of Odysseus’ speech, see Mossman, Wild Justice 112-7.
130
Pace e.g. Michelini, Euripides 146, who observes: “We have heard that [Odysseus] is a man of low
morality and consummate verbal skill; what he says therefore will have less weight as showing his true
thought, and more as indicating his way of arguing”; and many scholars would concur with her in
thinking that Odysseus, true to his character, is being somehow devious (cf. e.g. Kovacs, Heroic Muse
92). On the general problem of the extent to which we are entitled to doubt a dramatic character’s professed earnestness, cf. Van Erp Taalman Kip, ‘Truth in Tragedy’.
131
Cf. esp. Aj. 148-50: τοιούσδε λόγους ψιθύρους πλάσσων εἰς ὦτα φέρει πᾶσιν Ὀδυσσεύς, καὶ σφό-
δρα πείθει ([lyrics:] ‘Such plausible λόγοι Odysseus brings to every man’s ears – and he convinces’).
Chapter III
123
and it is on account of this commendable commitment that Hecabe fails in her attempt
to avail herself of his services. This novel perspective on Odysseus capitalises on the
ever-present suspicion, voiced in Suppliant Women by the Theban Herald, that a democratic constitution gives its members too much scope to pursue their private interests, only to replace it with a striking paradigm of ideal democratic behaviour.
4.2 Hecabe on her own
On the interpretation of Hecuba’s parodos and first episode advanced above, Hecabe
has misunderstood the nature of what happened in the Greek assembly: Odysseus
readily admits that he made one of the two competing λόγοι the ‘stronger’ λόγος, but
he is not willing to go back − as Hecabe urges him to do − and make the other λόγος
stronger. Given Odysseus’ traditional readiness to say n’importe quoi as long as it fits
his purpose, his apparently genuine commitment to the anti-Polyxena cause may
strike us as surprising; but it is incontestably dramatically effective. First of all, it establishes Polyxena’s death − the event around which the first half of Hecuba’s dramatic action revolves − as an inevitable necessity, rather than as the arbitrary outcome
of a deliberative process that could have gone any way, depending merely on the level
of the speakers’ verbal accomplishments, not on the strength of their arguments. Secondly, as we shall now turn to see, Hecabe’s failure to enlist Odysseus’ services sets
up a foil for her exploits in the play’s second half, which revolve around the death of
another one of her children, Polydorus.
Her effort to save her daughter having failed, Hecabe goes on to negotiate her
right to avenge the murder of her son, first in a long supplication of Agamemnon, and
secondly − post eventum − in a formal ‘agon’ scene between victim and avenger, with
Agamemnon presiding; and it is in this final scene that Hecabe can be seen to deliver
what Michael Lloyd calls “one of the most sophisticated pieces of forensic rhetoric”
in the whole of Euripides.132 Many influential interpretations of Hecuba’s dramatic
action proceed from the assumption that in the course of the play’s second half, Hecabe undergoes some kind of reversal: once she has persuaded Agamemnon to condone her revenge on the murderer of Polydorus, the Trojan queen suddenly stops being crime’s victim, and becomes its perpetrator.133 This view of the play’s dramatic
progression in terms of its heroine’s “moral deterioration”, culminating in Hecabe’s
prospective transformation into a she-dog, has been shown to be problematical, as
Hecabe’s revenge cannot be counted as ‘unjust’ per se.134 But while it may not be
straightforwardly obvious that the development of Hecabe’s character entails a moral
deterioration, there does seem to be a definite development in the queen’s ἦθος, as she
abandons her attempts to enlist intermediaries and takes matters into her own hands.
132
Lloyd, Agon 97; cf. Buxton, Persuasion 182; Riedweg, ‘Tragödiendichter’ 18-20.
133
See e.g. Kirkwood, ‘Hecuba & Nomos’ 61-8; Conacher, Euripidean Drama 162-3; Nussbaum, Fra-
gility 398; Michelini, Euripides 152-3; and the overview at Barker, Entering the Agon 326 n.3.
134
See esp. Meridor, ‘Hecuba’s Revenge’; also e.g. Kovacs, Heroic Muse 108-9; Heath, ‘Iure prin-
cipum’ 65-8; Gregory, Instruction 105-14; Mossman, Wild Justice 134-5; Burnett, Revenge 166-76.
124
Chapter III
For it is when her project of securing the help of others threatens to fail a second time
around – Agamemnon, bound as he is by loyalty to his political allies, refusing to do
the dirty work for her – that Hecabe resolves to assume agency herself, and thus sets
herself on the road to a resounding victory.
This moment of transition is marked by a striking passage, spoken by way of
an aside, in which Hecabe laments her lack of rhetorical training:
τί δῆτα θνητοὶ τἄλλα µὲν µαθήµατα
µοχθοῦµεν ὡς χρὴ πάντα καὶ µατεύοµεν,
Πειθὼ δὲ τὴν τύραννον ἀνθρώποις µόνην
οὐδέν τι µᾶλλον ἐς τέλος σπουδάζοµεν
µισθοὺς διδόντες µανθάνειν, ἵν’ ἦν ποτε
πείθειν ἅ τις βούλοιτο τυγχάνειν θ’ ἅµα;
(814-9)
‘Why oh why do we pursue, as we must, all other forms of knowledge, but do not endeavour, paying tuition fees, to master Peithō, the
only real sovereign over mankind, all the way, so that one can argue
any case and win to boot?’
What Hecabe seems to be lamenting here is her inability to get her own way, on her
own strength: whatever else her Trojan education has offered her, no fee-charging
sophist has ever taught her to engage for herself in the ἀγὼν λόγων – and with her envisaged ally literally turning his back upon her (812-3), this now proves cause for regret. However, at the very point where Hecabe seems ready to give in to blank despair
(820-23), she suddenly and markedly reverts to the fray.135 It is from this point onwards, as she secures Agamemnon’s compliance by appealing to his relationship with
Cassandra, that Hecabe becomes her own agent, using clever deceit to entrap the
murderer of her child and, in the formal ‘agon’ scene that concludes the play’s action,
succesfully negotiating her exemption from the legal consequences of her revenge.
In the gnomic introduction to her ἀγών speech, Hecabe reverts to the topic of
rhetorical prowess that she briefly broached just before the play’s transitory moment:
... ἀνθρώποισιν οὐκ ἐχρῆν ποτε
τῶν πραγµάτων τὴν γλῶσσαν ἰσχύειν πλέον·
ἀλλ’, εἴτε χρήστ’ ἔδρασε, χρήστ’ ἔδει λέγειν,
εἴτ’ αὖ πονηρά, τοὺς λόγους εἶναι σαθρούς,
καὶ µὴ δύνασθαι τἄδικ’ εὖ λέγειν ποτέ.
σοφοὶ µὲν οὖν εἰσ’ οἱ τάδ’ ἠκριβώκοτες,
ἀλλ’ οὐ δύνανται διὰ τέλους εἶναι σοφοί,
κακῶς δ’ ἀπώλοντ’· οὖτις ἐξήλυξέ πω.
135
1190
Hec. 824-5: καὶ µήν – ἴσως µὲν τοῦ λόγου κενὸν τόδε, | Κύπριν προβάλλειν· ἀλλ’ ὅµως εἰρήσεται
(‘Still... maybe it is without sense to mobilise Cypris; but let it be said anyway’).
Chapter III
125
‘Men’s tongues ought never to be more powerful than the facts: if they
act for the good, they should speak well, but if they act for the worst,
their λόγοι ought to be unsound; they should never be able to speak
well about their crimes. Those who have thoroughly mastered this art
may be σοφοί, yet they cannot be σοφός all the way. They perish miserably, no-one ever escapes.’
Euripidean characters are as fond as anybody, then and now, of claiming that it is
somehow ‘wrong’ to use rhetoric to defend morally reprehensible positions;136 but on
the face of it, Hecabe here sounds a strikingly different note from when she wistfully
regretted her own lack of sophistic training. Many commentators have remarked upon
the irony of the present situation: if Hecabe insists that it is ‘wrong’ to use rhetoric to
defend a crime – and if Euripides expects his audience to concur – then what are we
to make of the fact that Hecabe proceeds to use rhetoric to defend her own revenge on
Polymestor?137
The apparent inconcinnity between Hecabe’s blithe condemnation of ‘immoral’ rhetoric on the one hand, and her previously advertised readiness to resort to
rhetoric herself on the other, disappears when it is realised that Hecabe’s claim extends beyond a simple condemnation of what her opponent is doing. After observing
that the power of man’s tongues ought to be restricted by the morality of their actions,
Hecabe proceeds to state as a fact that rhetorical prowess will only get a man so far:
what she says is that while there are σοφοί who are quite good at ‘τἄδικα εὖ λέγειν’,
such σοφοί cannot have it all the way; they perish miserably and without exception.
What results is not just a moralising precept against the use of clever speech, but a
declaration of faith, as it were, in the essential fairness of the universe. Given Hecabe’s own uncompromising earnestness, her claim that criminals cannot get away
with their crimes amounts to a negation of the notions that there are ‘two λόγοι’ about
every πρᾶγµα, and that the ‘weaker’ of these λόγοι can be raised to compete with the
‘stronger’. Not so, claims Hecabe – slyly imposing, like Strepsiades in Aristophanes’
136
Cf. e.g. E. fr. 583: ὅστις λέγει µὲν εὖ, τὰ δ’ ἔργ’ ἐφ’ οἷς λέγει | αἴσχρ’ ἐστί, τούτου τὸ σοφὸν οὐκ
αἰνῶ ποτε ([from Palamedes:] ‘to speak well when the ἔργα about which you speak are αἰσχρά is a
σοφόν that cannot be commended’); Med. 580-1: ἐµοὶ γὰρ ὅστις ἄδικος ὢν σοφὸς λέγειν | πέφυκε
πλείστην ζηµίαν ὀφλισκάνει ([Medea to Jason:] ‘in my eyes a criminal who is σοφὸς λέγειν merits the
severest punishment’); Tro. 967-8; Pho. 526-7 &c. Collecting such passages, Dodds on Ba. 266-71 (p.
103) sympathetically observes that “the harm done by the art of persuasion, when it is exercised by
men without principle... was in fact the greatest danger of ancient as of modern societies”, and claims
that such passages as sampled above “seem to represent a lesson which Euripides wished to bring home
to his audience” (a similar argument is construed by Jouan, ‘Rhétorique’). See however Ober, Mass
and Elite 190-1 and Hesk, ‘Rhetoric of Anti-Rhetoric’ 208-11 for a sophisticated discussion of the role
of anti-rhetorical arguments in 4th-cent. oratory.
137
E.g. Grube, Drama of Euripides 144; Buxton, Persuasion 181; Lloyd, Agon 97; cf. Mossman, Wild
Justice 133-4; Riedweg, ‘Tragödiendichter’ 13-4.
126
Chapter III
Clouds, a moral interpretation on the ‘ἥττων λόγος’ of the Protagorean ἐπάγγελµα. On
Hecabe’s view, there can never be a real competition between the ἄδικος and the
ἔνδικος or δίκαιος λόγος.
It remains true that, as a general claim about observable reality, Hecabe’s
statement is easily falsifiable: according to simple logic, you would have to come up
with just one example of a criminal successfully talking his way out of his predicament, and you have shown the Trojan queen’s claim to be just wishful thinking – an
‘ought’ disguised as an ‘is’. But the logic of the situation is something different altogether. The situation requires Hecabe not to prove her claim by showing that there are
no exceptions, but to substantiate it: and in order to do that, all she needs to accomplish is win her ‘just’ case against Polymestor. And that is exactly what Hecabe is set
to do, in a rhetorical performance that displays an elaborate concern for rhetorical
τάξις, comprises a disjunctive argument from probability in order to deny the possibility of φιλία and χάρις between Greeks and barbarians (1199-1207), and uses hypothetical syllogism in order to show that Polymestor never intended to benefit the
Greeks (1208-16 and 1217-23); a performance, moreover, that is exceptional among
Euripidean agon speeches in securing what the speaker set out to achieve.138
4.3 The ἀγών and the importance of being earnest
As a foreign woman, Hecabe comes fresh to the ἀγών, which is branded as an essentially Greek commodity that governs all decision-making; and the development of
Hecuba’s dramatic action can be read in terms of its heroine gradually assimilating
the rules of the game. Primed, perhaps, by the Trojan Chorus’ tendentious account of
what happened in the army’s Assembly, Hecabe starts out by seeing the ἀγών – just
like the Theban Herald in Suppliant Women sees it – as a forum in which competent
speakers merely vie for the crowd’s favour; but she is soon disabused of this preconception, as it turns out that Odysseus is not prepared to go back and reverse his victory. When, subsequently, Agamemnon proves to be similarly bound by his obligations to the army, Hecabe has to fall back upon her own resources, eventually pleading her own cause in the play’s concluding scene. What Hecabe ‘learns’ in the process
is the importance of being earnest: in the play’s dramatic world, contrary to what
some of its characters would initially assume, the participants in the verbal ἀγών are
intrinsically committed to the viewpoint that they stand for; they cannot be suborned
to boost cases that they do not wholeheartedly subscribe to. As for the ‘judge’: it has
often been observed that Agamemnon’s verdict in favour of Hecabe seems prejudged;
and that, consequently, the spectators must not only assess the contestants, but also
the judge.139 However, the play’s balance of sympathy is so consistently biased to-
138
For the correspondences between Hecabe’s speech and the rhetorical techniques enshrined in later
writings, cf. Lloyd, Agon 98-9; Riedweg, ‘Tragödiendichter’ 16-20. For the exceptional outcome, cf.
above n.17.
139
Pre-judged: cf. Michelini, Euripides 155; Mossman, Wild Justice 132. “Assess the judge”: cf. Bar-
ker, Entering the Agon 355.
Chapter III
127
wards Hecabe that it is hard to see how an audience could regard the ἀγών as anything
but a satisfying solution to the dramatic action.
5. Farewell to the ἀγών: Phoenician Women
The two dramas discussed in sections 3 and 4 above present, on my reading, a quite
different treatment of the idea of the ἀγών that governs Greek (or Athenian) political
praxis from that of Children of Heracles. The earlier play makes its audience party to
a successful process of deliberation, framed despite its mythical remoteness in terms
referring to contemporary Athenian political practice, without anything in the development of the dramatic action qualifying this success. Suppliant Women and Hecuba,
by contrast, juxtapose conflicting perspectives on the ἀγὼν λόγων, with some characters endorsing agonistic decision-making as a feasible or even privileged project, others rejecting the ἀγών on principle. By embedding these contrary voices in agonistic
structures, the poet in each of the plays discussed above nonetheless creates a perspective from which the idea of the ἀγὼν λόγων can be seen to hold its own.
As we now turn to Euripides’ Phoenician Women, a play produced in the final
years of Euripides’ career as a dramatist, it will be helpful to recall in more detail how
things go in the ‘agon’ scene of the early Children of Heracles. In this drama the two
ἀγωνισταί willingly submit their cases to the Athenian king Demophon, and make
good this willingness by framing their arguments in neatly competing terms, allowing
the arbitrator to formulate a meaningful judgment, and – give or take a few grumbles
on the part of the defeated party – abiding by the verdict. Phoenician Women’s ‘agon’
scene similarly has a claimant (Polynices, demanding his reinstatement as co-heir to
the Theban throne), a defendant (the usurper, Eteocles) and an arbitrator (their mother
Jocasta), engaging each other on a yes-or-no issue. However, it soon becomes clear
that neither of the two speakers is actually committed to the ‘idea of the ἀγών’ that
governs the debate. Polynices submits that since ‘truth’s account’ (ὁ µῦθος τῆς
ἀληθείας) is ‘single’, the justice of his case needs no argument; and accordingly refrains from offering more than a narratio of the facts and an ultimatum. Eteocles, by
contrast, believes in ἀµφίλεκτος ἔρις; but he will not allow his case to be judged in
terms of ‘justice’, claiming only that his adherence to the throne is καλόν. These contrary points of view leave the arbitrator with nothing to judge; and accordingly, the
only thing Jocasta can decide on is the failure of the debate that she sought to initiate.
The difference, not just with Children of Heracles, but also with Suppliant Women
and Hecuba is palpable, and warrants a closer look at the individual positions of the
three participants in Phoenician Women’s verbal ἀγών.
5.1 Polynices
Like the ‘agon’ scenes of Children of Heracles and Suppliant Women, that of Phoenician Women is expressly designed as an ἀγὼν λόγων: Jocasta initiates the upcoming
debate in the hope that allowing the two brothers each to present their case might result in the production of a judgeable issue; and she can be seen to take all due precau-
128
Chapter III
tions to ensure that the proceedings will go by the book. She warns Eteocles, the most
obviously unwilling and belligerent of the two brothers, against rash judgment (Pho.
452-3), and tells him to ‘relax’ and look his brother in the face (454-6); she makes the
same request of Polynices (457), claiming that ‘by looking at the same point, he will
speak and listen to his brother better’ (ἐς γὰρ ταὐτὸν ὄµµασιν βλέπων | λέξεις τ’
ἄµεινον τοῦδε τ’ ἐνδέξηι λόγους, 458-9). Finally, before assigning the first speech
turn to Polynices, Iocaste charges the two opponents to confine themselves to the
business at hand and forget past grievances, and invokes an unspecified ‘divinity’ to
aid in judging and resolving the issue (460-4). Then, Polynices starts off:
ἁπλοῦς ὁ µῦθος τῆς ἀληθείας ἔφυ,
κοὐ ποικίλων δεῖ τἄνδιχ’ ἑρµηνευµάτων·
ἔχει γὰρ αὐτὰ καιρόν. ὁ δ’ ἄδικος λόγος
νοσῶν ἐν αὑτῶι φαρµάκων δεῖται σοφῶν.
(464-7)
‘The argument of truth is simple, and what is just has no need for
elaborate explanations: it has a καιρός all by itself. The unjust case,
on the other hand, is sick at heart and requires clever medicines.’
For all its apparent straightforwardness, this is quite a complex opening bid. Like 4thcent. forensic orators, who would tell the jurors that the ‘justice’ of their cases should
be ‘clear and unambiguous’ for them to perceive and comprehend,140 so Polynices
considers the ‘µῦθος of truth’ to be ἁπλοῦς (‘uncomplicated, easy to grasp’) – but he
also goes further, claiming that this µῦθος can be mediated without having recourse to
elaborate ‘explanations’,141 as ‘what is just’ has a καιρός of its own. In tragic diction,
καιρός has a range of meanings that is reducible to “what is proper, appropriate, just
right”;142 but this ‘rightness’ is always relative to something else: it is never ‘rightness’ per se.143 Accordingly, when Polynices says that τὰ ἔνδικα have a ‘καιρός of
their own’, ‘effectiveness’ seems a more appropriate translation of καιρός than ‘right-
140
Dem. 18.10: θέασασθ’ ὡς ἁπλᾶ καὶ δίκαια λέγω; (‘Do you see the simplicity and justice of my
words?’); cf. e.g. 20.93 and 123, [Dem.] 44.31, 56.37, Is. 11.32.
141
ἑρµήνευµα here seems to mean ‘explanation’, as at Her. 1136-7, where Heracles inquires after the
murderer of his children, and Amphitryon replies: ἐρωτᾶις δ’ ἄθλι’ ἑρµηνεύµατα (‘you ask for terrible
explanations’). At E. Andr. 46, the word’s only other classical-period attestation, ἑρµήνευµα (used as a
predicate of σῆµα ‘grave’) must mean ‘memorial’ vel sim.
142
So Barrett on Hipp. 386-7 (p. 231).
143
E.g., Med. 127-8: τὰ δ’ ὑπερβάλλοντ’ | οὐδένα καιρὸν δύναται θνητοῖς (‘excess is inappropriate to
achieve the goals humans set for themselves’); Pho. 1431 καίριοι σφαγαί (‘lethal slaughter’). When
Phaedra claims that ‘there are good pleasures as well as bad pleasures, and the καιρός is not σαφής’
(Hipp. 385-6), she says that it is hard to decide just what degree of αἰδώς to observe with regard to
moral choices (not, as Barrett ad loc. [p. 231] claims, that it is hard to decide “when αἰδώς was out of
place’: see Cairns, Aidos 322-32 for a full discussion of these lines).
Chapter III
129
ness’.144 The sense ‘effectiveness’ follows naturally from normal usage, including its
prominent use in medical discourse, where καιρός always refers to the ‘correct dosage’ or ‘right timing’ required to heal the patient;145 and it prefigures, as it were, the
technical use of καιρός (‘occasionality’) that we find in the works of the 4th-cent.
rhetoricians Alcidamas and Isocrates.146
So, on Polynices’ account, his case would be ‘self-evident’ in the full sense of
the word: it is transparently true, and needs no argument to support it. His second sentence – the ‘unjust account’ is ‘sick at heart and needs clever medicine’ – clearly alludes to the Protagorean ἐπάγγελµα according to which the ‘weaker’ of the two λόγοι
that arise from every πρᾶγµα can be made ‘stronger’; and through the substitution of
‘ἄδικος’ for ‘ἥττων’, Polynices imposes upon it the same moral interpretation as
Strepsiades in Aristophanes’ Clouds and Hecuba’s Hecabe. Going one better than
Strepsiades and Hecabe, however, Polynices effects a second substitution: as he has it,
the ἥττων λόγος, which on the Protagorean view can be made better, is actually ‘sick’.
This takes us deeper into the world-view associated with the likes of Protagoras and
Antiphon, who – as we have seen – appear to have compared their own profession
with that of the physician, and accordingly, in advertising what they had to offer to
their prospective clients, appropriated the proverbial conception of speech (λόγος) as
a ‘healer’ (ἰατρός) or a ‘medicine’ (φάρµακον).147 Polynices here reverses this idea:
the λόγος of the clever rhetorician is not the ‘medicine’ for society’s illness – rather, it
carries ‘within itself’ (ἐν αὑτῶι) the ‘disease’ for which the rhetorician must supply
the medicine.
By thus taking issue with the ‘two λόγοι’ doctrine, Polynices goes well beyond
simply presenting his case as easy to grasp and, therefore, the more likely to win the
jurors’ support; and accordingly, the sense of ἁπλοῦς in his opening sentence can be
144
Cf. Mastronarde on Pho. 471 (p. 281): “the proper measure (sc. so as to persuade an audience)...”.
Otherwise e.g. Wilson, ‘Due Measure’ 194 (“propriety”).
145
For the prevalence of the word καιρός in medical discourse, see above, ch. I nn.22-6. In 5th-cent.
Greek καιρός and cognates could be applied to an utterance or speech act, but always in a general sense
(‘due proportion’, ‘moderation’): e.g. P. Pyth. 9.78-9 ὁ δὲ καιρὸς ὁµοίως | παντὸς ἔχει κορυφάν ‘[it is
best to praise a great achievements selectively, for] καιρός is supreme in everything alike’.
146
For the 4th-cent. ‘rhetorical’ use of the word καιρός, cf. e.g. O’Sullivan, Alcidamas 91-4; Wersdör-
fer, Philosophia des Isokrates 55-72. It is noteworthy that Gorgias, though claimed by Dionysius to
have been the first to attempt writing about καιρός from a rhetorical perspective, allegedly had nothing
interesting to say about the subject (καιροῦ δὲ οὔτε ῥήτωρ οὐδεὶς οὔτε φιλόσοφος εἰς τόδε χρόνου
τέχνην ὥρισεν, οὐδ’ ὅσπερ πρῶτος ἐπεχείρησε περὶ αὐτοῦ γραφεῖν Γοργίας ὁ Λεοντῖνος οὐδὲν ὅ τι
λόγου ἄξιον ἔγραφεν [DH comp. verb. 12.6 = Gorgias fr. B13]): Noel, ‘Καιρός sophistique’ argues that
Gorgias’ surviving work indeed suggests that καιρός was a minor concern. DL 9.52 makes Protagoras
the first to ‘expound on the power of καιρός’ (DL 9.52 = Prot. 80A1), but it remains unclear whether
Protagoras conceived of καιρός in a technical rhetorical sense, or simply exploited a notion common in
contemporary medical writings: in view of my discussion at ch. I.1, the latter may seem likely.
147
Cf. the dicussion at ch. I.1 above.
130
Chapter III
seen to shift, as the speaker’s complex γνώµη unfolds, from ‘simple’ (i.e., ‘uncomplicated’) to ‘singular’ (i.e., ‘admitting no alternative’).148 In their generality, and read
against the Protagorean subtext, Polynices’ words would effectively deny that there is
such a thing as a morally ambivalent issue, the ‘truth’ always and necessarily presenting itself as a single, self-establishing µῦθος, to the exclusion of every imaginable
contender.
Polynices’ opening contribution to the ἀγών staged by his mother thus constitutes a rejection of the ‘agonistic’ principle that the two sides of a given issue both
merit consideration; and his actual speech conforms to his theoretical position. In rhetorical terms, his ῥῆσις consists mainly of narratio (473-83) and a proposal of what he
wants (484-91), rounded off by an invocation of unspecified δαίµονες as witnesses to
the justice of his claims (491-3). Unusually for Euripidean agon speeches, Polynices’
performance contains no argumentation at all:149 true to what he says in his prologue,
the speaker acts on the assumption that a plain statement of the facts is enough to
make his case; and he says as much again in the conclusion of his speech:
ταῦτ’ αὔθ’ ἕκαστα, µῆτερ, οὐχὶ περιπλοκὰς
λόγων ἀθροίσας εἶπον, ἀλλὰ καὶ σοφοῖς
καὶ τοῖσι φαύλοις ἔνδιχ’, ὡς ἐµοὶ δοκεῖ.
(494-6)
‘Such are the facts, mother, I have spoken without mustering coils of
words: no, just for wise men and laymen alike, I think.’
In line 495, ἀλλά conjoins two qualifications of the phrase ταῦτ’ αὔτα... εἶπον, the
first adverbial (οὐχὶ περιπλοκὰς | λόγων ἀθροίσας), the second predicative ([πᾶσι]
ἔνδικα), and so suggests that these qualifications are each other’s opposites. This syntactical conjuring trick sets up a contrast between ‘coiled’ speech on the one hand,
and ‘justice’ on the other; a contrast that must be considered logically contingent
rather than necessary. Polynices’ message, however, is that ‘the facts’ must speak for
themselves; and his whole performance is designed to suggest that, in fact, they do
speak for themselves.
Taken together, Polynices’ argument and his actual comportment thus present
a challenge to the idea of the ἀγών that can be summarised as follows: ‘where moral
issues are concerned, there is just one, not two λόγοι’. Polynices shares this perspective with a number of other tragic figures: in a fragment from Aeschylus’ Hoplon Krisis, the speaker – Ajax? – has occasion to claim, like Polynices, that ‘the words of
148
‘Singular’ is the sense of ἁπλοῦς required at, e.g., E. Hel. 979: κἀκεῖνον ἢ ’µε δεῖ θανεῖν: ἁπλοῦς
λόγος (‘he must die or I: tertium non datur’); cf. e.g. Ar. Ach. 1151, [A.] PV 610 and 46 with Griffiths
ad loc., and contrast e.g. Or. 446 πάντων πρὸς ἀστύ, ὡς θανῶ· βραχὺς λόγος (‘I am to die before the
whole city: the answer is brief’) and fr. 68 µητέρα κατέκταν τὸν ἐµόν· βραχὺς λόγος, where βραχὺς
λόγος is used to qualify a statement of fact rather than a confident claim: so also at Or. 758 ἢ θανεῖν ἢ
ζῆν· ὁ µῦθος οὐ µακρὸς µακρῶν πέρι (‘to die or live: there’s a brief account of a large issue’).
149
Cf. Mastronarde on Pho. 469-96 (p. 280); Lloyd, Agon 86-7.
Chapter III
131
truth are singular’ (ἁπλᾶ γάρ ἐστι τῆς ἀληθείας ἔπη, fr. 176);150 in the Aeschylean
Prometheus Bound, Prometheus promises to tell the future ‘unequivocally ..., without
spinning riddles but with a single λόγος as it is right to converse with friends’;151 and
in Euripides’ Iphigenia in Aulis, Achilles prides himself, with resonant intertextual
reference to his characterisation in the 9th book of the Iliad, on having been taught
ἁπλῶι τρόποι (‘straightforward behaviour’, IA 927) – τρόποι which make it impossible for him to fall in with Agamemnon’s duplicitous plotting towards the death of
Iphigenia.152 Ajax, Prometheus and Achilles are, and always have been, characters
whose commitment to a monolithical world-view brooks no compromise: for them,
words are unequivocally bound up with the things they refer to; value terms like
‘good’ or ‘just’ admit of but a single interpretation; and they will not associate with
characters of a more analytical cast of mind – characters for whom there are ‘two
λόγοι about everything’. In Polynices’ contribution to Phoenician Women’s verbal
ἀγών, such tragic/epic resonances conspire with the topical rejection of the Protagorean slogan that the ‘ἥττων λόγος can be made κρείττων’, to establish a powerful obstacle for the realisation of the verbal ἀγών that is in the process of taking place.
5.2 Eteocles
As we have seen, Jocasta had hoped that instituting a formal ἀγών might result in the
production of a judgeable issue, either by herself or by the ‘divinity’ that she invoked
before Polynices took the first speech turn (467-8): such was also the premise of the
debate in Children of Heracles, where in order for the ‘case’ to be judged, it was
thought necessary to hear ‘µῦθοι from both sides’. Polynices’ contribution appears to
contradict this premiss both in spirit and in substance: he presents his case on the sole
understanding that its moral implications are beyond contestation. There is worse to
come, however, for Eteocles proves to be as uncooperative as his brother – albeit in
an entirely different way. Here are his opening words:
εἰ πᾶσι ταὐτὸν καλὸν ἔφυ σοφόν θ’ ἅµα,
οὐκ ἦν ἂν ἀµφίλεκτος ἀνθρώποις ἔρις·
νῦν δ’ οὔθ’ ὅµοιον οὐδὲν οὔτ’ ἴσον βροτοῖς
πλὴν ὀνοµάσαι· τὸ δ’ ἔργον οὐκ ἔστιν τόδε.
150
(499-502)
For the ascription of this fragment to Ajax, cf. Radt’s note ad loc.; alternatively, these words may
have been spoken by the play’s Chorus, which (like that of S. Aj.) consists of Ajax’ crew-members.
Note that in his account of the contest over the dead Achilles’ armour (Nem. 8.23-37), Pindar contrasts
the ‘deception’ (πάρφασις) allegedly practiced by Odysseus with the ‘single-track paths of life’
(κελεύθοις | ἁπλόαις ζωᾶς) travelled by Ajax and recommended to his Aeginetan audience. The coincidence may be more than fortuitous, Aeschylus and Pindar deriving the image from a common interpretation of Ajax’ homeric ἦθος.
151
PB 609-11, cited above at ch. I n.32.
152
Cf. my discussion at ch. II.3 (pp. 81-3).
132
Chapter III
‘If the same thing were καλόν and σοφόν at the same time for all,
then there would be no disagreement and dispute among men. As it
is, however, nothing is similar or equal for mankind, except on the
level of giving names: but in fact, it is not so.’
On the basis of this complex γνώµη, many commentators have come to regard Eteocles as something of a relativist; but the precise nature of this ‘relativism’ has not, to
my mind, been properly grasped, and a close reading of the passage as a response to
Polynices’ insistence on the singularity of ‘truth’s µῦθος’ seems called for.
Like his brother, Eteocles prefaces his ἀγών speech with a prologue consisting
of a two-fold argument. In the first instalment, he takes up Polynices’ belief that
‘truth’s account is single’, claiming that this could be so only if everybody would
agree on the identicity of ‘what is good’ and ‘what is wise’: if καλόν and σοφόν are
‘the same thing at the same time for all’, then there would be no room for disagreement.153 This, however, is not the case. What Polynices identifies simply as ‘just’ (τὰ
ἔνδικα, 465/496), that – so says Eteocles – can be considered under more than one aspect at a time; and since, in human interaction ‘nothing is equal or similar’ (498),
these various aspects cannot be considered identical, except on the trivial and deceptive level of synonymy (πλὴν ὀνοµάσαι). καλόν and σοφόν being contiguous value
terms, one might be excused for thinking that ‘what is good’ and ‘what is just’ necessarily coincide; but the fact is that they do not necessarily coincide.154 Consequently,
153
Kovacs’ translation of 499 (“If everyone defined justice and wisdom in the same way”) – which re-
flects the standard interpretation of the passage as expressing a relativist world-view (cf. below nn.
160-2) – overemphasises the qualifier πᾶσι, while ignoring the emphatic placement of θ’ ἅµα, which
conjoins καλόν and σοφόν. Eteocles does not deny that conclusive definitions can be given of καλόν
and σοφόν separatim; rather, he denies that for every person, ‘the same thing is καλόν and σοφόν at the
same time’, i.e., that for every person ‘what is καλόν is necessarily always the same as what is σοφόν’.
This construction is also found at Hipp. 348 ἥδιστον... ταὐτὸν ἀλγεινόν θ’ ἅµα ‘the same thing can be
most pleasant and painful at the same time’: to render this as “pleasant and painful are the same thing”
would obviously yield nonsense. For (verse-final) θ’ ἅµα conjoining two contrasting items, cf. further
Ion 643 δίκαιον εἶναι µ’ ὁ νόµος ἡ φύσις θ’ ἅµα | παρεῖχε ‘I am in my right both as a matter of νόµος
and of φύσις’; E. fr. 246 (Archelaus) νεανίας τε καὶ πένης σοφός θ’ ἄµα· | ταῦτ’ εἰς ἓν ἐλθόντ’ ἄξι’
ἐνθυµήσεως ‘He is young and poor, and σοφός at the same time: for those qualities to come together is
noteworthy’; and Hec. 819, cited above in section 4.2.
154
Two further textual notes are in order. 1) With the majority of modern scholars, I interpret ἴσον and
ὅµοιον (‘equal and similar’) as neutral terms, referring to ‘equality’ and ‘likeness’ between any two objects in reality: this reading follows naturally from the emphasis in the preceding sentence on the ‘identicity’ (ταὐτόν.... ἅµα) of ‘good’ and ‘wise’, on which cf. n.153 above. In political contexts, the terms
ἴσον and ὅµοιον can have an ethical sense (‘equal and fair’ vel sim.: cf. e.g. Thuc. 4.105 τῆς ἴσης καὶ
ὁµοίης [sc. δίκης] µετέχειν and see LSJ9 s.v. ἴσον II.2), and Σ Pho. 501 – who prefers the neutral interpretation given above – also records an alternative, ethical interpretation (glossing ὅµοιον as ‘δικαῖον’);
but it is difficult to reconcile such an interpretation with the preceding sentence. 2) Mastronarde on
Chapter III
133
if ‘what is good’ and ‘what is wise’ are distinct, there needs to be no agreement
among humans about ‘what is just’: and if this is so, then there must be ἀµφίλεκτος
ἔρις,155 and ‘truth’s µῦθος’ cannot be singular.
So, whereas Polynices began his speech by dismissing in general terms the applicability of the Protagorean ‘two λόγοι’ doctrine to moral issues – ‘truth’s µῦθος’ being ‘single’ – Eteocles starts his by reasserting it. Yet Eteocles’ reassertion of the basis
for a constructive exchange of λόγοι is founded upon the disqualification of a unified
conception of ‘what is just’ as a practicable criterion for deciding between competing
accounts. The only questions you can meaningfully ask of anyone about a given issue at
any given point in time, says Eteocles, are questions like ‘is it καλόν?’ and ‘is it
σοφόν?’.
The continuation of Eteocles’ speech shows us where this concise analytical
argument leaves ‘justice’; for like his brother, the Theban throne’s present incumbent
consistently applies his theoretical perspective to the practice of his rhetorical performance. His speech briefly raises the possibility of a compromise (515-9), but consists mainly of emotional declarations of his attachment to his kingship (504-10, 51923), interspersed with an ethical argument against giving it up: if Eteocles were to
give in to foreign pressure, this would not only be a sign of his personal ἀνανδρία
(509), it would also damage Thebes’ reputation as an independent city.156 The implication of this argument would be that giving up the throne is not a ‘good’ thing: to do
so, Eteocles implies, might be σοφόν, but it would not be καλόν. In fact, or so he
claims in conclusion of his speech, if holding on to the throne constitutes a ‘crime’ –
which for him is a meaningless term – then it must be the ‘most καλόν’ form of crime
that one can commit:
εἴπερ γὰρ ἀδικεῖν χρή, τυραννίδος πέρι
κάλλιστον ἀδικεῖν, τἄλλα δ’ εὐσεβεῖν χρεών.
(524-5)
‘If one must commit injustice, it is κάλλιστον to do so for the sake
of the throne, while in all other regards honouring the gods.’
On the basis of these lines, Eteocles has been made out to be a lot of things, from a
paragon of late-fifth-century “immoralism” to a Derridean avant la lettre;157 but on
Pho. 501-2 (p.290) defends the manuscript reading ὀνοµάσαι ‘as regards, on the level of giving names’
as lectio difficilior against Markland/Porson’s ὀνόµασιν (‘in name’), which is acceped by Diggle and
Kovacs.
155
‘Strife in which there is speech on two sides’: for the formation of the word, see Mastronarde on
Pho. 500 (p.289).
156
Pho. 510-13: αἰσχύνοµαι... ταῖς γὰρ ἂν Θήβαις τόδε | γένοιτ’ ὄνειδος (‘I am loth [to give it up] ... for
it would be a cause for others to despise Thebes’).
157
Eteocles as “the dramatic embodiment of late-fifth-century immoralism”: Balot, Greed & Injustice
209. Eteocles and Derrida: Meltzer, Poetics of Nostalgia 8 (see below n.162). Cf. Mastronarde on Pho.
499-525 (p. 288): “[Eteocles’] denial of a stable foundation for assigning crucial moral predicates re-
134
Chapter III
the interpretation advanced above, his position seems considerably less radical than
that. True, he claims to worship Tyranny,158 regards being a τύραννος as a ‘boon’
(χρηστόν), and thinks it unbecoming to give up the privileges he enjoys.159 But he is
not arguing that “no terms whatever have a firm foundation in reality”;160 he is not
“redefining moral terms in an idiosyncratic way”, or arguing that “there is no objective fairness or equality in nature”, or “denying a natural basis to morality”;161 he certainly does not say that “no voice (or sign or symbol) is necessarily privileged over
another, because all signs (including language) are conventional” and that, consequently, “no argument can be demonstrably superior to another”.162 All these interpretations place an undue emphasis on the qualifier πᾶσι in Pho. 499, while ignoring
Eteocles’ focus on the (non-)identicity of ‘what is good’ and ‘what is wise’ (cf. above,
n.153). When he claims that καλόν and σοφόν are not πᾶσι ταὐτόν... ἅµα, Eteocles
says no more than that ‘what is good’ and ‘what is wise’ do not necessarily harmonise
with one another as much as the names we use for them, being contiguous value
terms, suggest they do.
With regard to ‘reality’, then, Eteocles is not a ‘relativist’ in the sense that he
denies individual value terms (καλόν, σοφόν) to have a stable meaning or definition,
accessible to everyone alike: on the contrary, as we can see from the conclusion of his
speech, terms like ‘καλόν’ and ‘σοφόν’ have definite meanings for him; and in laying
out his case before an arbitrator, he acts as if expecting that these meanings will be
shared by others. Nor is Eteocles a ‘relativist’ with regard to language: denying that
there is such a thing as ‘similarity’ and ‘equality’ between words, he rather seems to
make the point that word meanings are necessarily discreet from one another – καλόν
and σοφόν each meaning what it means and, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, their meanings not coinciding to the point of being identical. The only sense
in which Eteocles can be considered a ‘relativist’ is inasmuch as, rejecting his
calls Protagorean relativism, Gorgianic scepticism, and sophistic manipulations of the nomos-physis dichotomy (here realized in the common disjunction of name and reality: ὀνοµάσαι vs. ἔργον)... All these
features mark Eteocles as a young man wo can use the glittering σοφία of the sophists for personal advantage”; also e.g. Craik on Pho. 499-502 (p. 196); Mueller-Goldingen, Untersuchungen 98-9.
158
Pho. 506: τὴν θεῶν µεγίστην ὥστ’ ἔχειν Τυραννίδα (‘... in order to hold Tyrannis, the greatest of the
gods’); cf. E. fr. 250 Τυραννίδ’ ἡ θεῶν δευτέρα νοµίζεται ([from Archelaus:] ‘Tyrannis is regarded as
the second of the gods’).
159
Esp. Pho. 507-10, with which, as Mastronarde ad loc. observes, Pl. Gorg. 491e-492b may profitably
be compared.
160
Mastronarde on Pho. 501-2 (p.289), continuing as follows: “... words are merely groups of sounds
shared by different speakers, but what each man really understands by each word is not the same as
what another man understands, and so one man’s καλὸν ἔργον is not καλόν to another”.
161
Lloyd, Agon 87-8 and 91.
162
Meltzer, Poetics of Nostalgia 13; cf. ibid. 8, “Eteocles’ denial of identity between signifier and sig-
nified is closely related to the Derridean concept of ‘différance’... ”.
Chapter III
135
brother’s monolithical world-view, he prefers his actions to be judged with reference
to certain values – καλόν, σοφόν – rather than others.
5.3 Jocasta
What we have at this point, then, is an ἀγών between two men who not only disagree
over the issue at hand – should Eteocles renounce the Theban throne, yes or no? – but
also, and every bit as fundamentally, over the premises on which this issue is to be
decided. While Polynices believes that the justice of his case is self-evident – ‘what is
just’ requiring no explanation, but having its own καιρός – Eteocles does subscribe in
principle to the necessity of submitting his case to scrutiny; but refuses to be judged in
terms of ‘what is just’. Now, if this were merely a theoretical incompatibilité d’
humeurs – if the hard words of the two men’s prologues were no more than that –
then there would be no real obstacle for the ἀγών to be concluded as Children of
Heracles’ ἀγών (or even that of Hecuba or Trojan Women) was concluded: by pronouncing in favour of one of the two parties, and claiming that, for good or for ill, justice has been done. As it is, however, both Polynices and Eteocles prove true to their
theoretical principles in their actual speeches, and refrain from submitting anything
upon which meaningful judgment can be passed. Polynices offers mere narratio,
Eteocles argues his case in terms that are unacceptable to his brother: what is a
‘judge’ to make of that?
Jocasta’s long arbitration speech can be read as a desperate attempt to reestablish the ‘agonistic’ principles that the two ἀγωνισταί have negated in their preceding
performances. The Theban queen begins her speech with a rather abstract disquisition
on the democratic value of ἰσότης and its opposite number, the oligarchic value of
πλεονεξία (531-58). As Jocasta speaks at length about the value of ἰσότης, she uses
this term in a much less restricted sense than was introduced by Eteocles, when he
claimed that τὸ ἴσον (‘sameness’, ‘identicity’) does not really exist.163 For Jocasta, by
contrast, ἰσότης is primarily ‘fairness’ – as it is, e.g., for Theseus in Suppliant Women,
when he claims that Athenian democracy allows each and every one to contribute to
the welfare of the πόλις and rhetorically asks: ‘what could be more ἴσον than that’?164
This apparent mismatch between Eteocles’ use of language and his mother’s is dramatically quite functional: by reframing the term ἴσοτης to mean ‘(democratic) fairness’ rather than ‘sameness’, the Theban queen implicitly corrects her son’s disparag-
163
Pho. 501-2, cited above with n.154. Jocasta sees ἰσότης in terms of ‘measures, weights and num-
bers’ (539-4) and of cosmic and natural phenomena (543-5), as well as in terms of ‘lawfulness’
(νόµιµον, 538). As Mastronarde observes, the abstract noun ἰσότης is a philosophical word that does
not otherwise occur in classical poetry. For discussion of 5th-cent. ideas about ‘equality’ as the basis
for natural and political order associated with Cleisthenes and his political reforms – ideas to which Jocasta’s speech seems indebted – see e.g. Vlastos, ‘Isonomia’; Guthrie, Sophists 148-55; Ostwald, Nomos 137-60; Ober, Mass & Elite 68-74; Egli, Zeitgenössische Strömungen 198-202.
164
Suppl. 440-1: ‘In a free city... who wants to speak in public enjoys fame, and who does not holds his
peace: τί τούτων ἔστ’ ἰσαίτερον πόλει;’.
136
Chapter III
ing of this value as a mere language-based convention. When Jocasta subsequently
proceeds to say that ‘the desire for more’ – as exemplified by Eteocles’ desire to hold
on to the Theban throne – is a ‘mere name’ (τί δ’ ἐστὶ τὸ πλέον; ὄνοµ’ ἔχει µόνον,
553), she can indeed be seen to engage explicitly with her son’s rejection of conventional language as the basis for negotiation.165 Eteocles would not allow his case to be
tried in terms of what is conventionally considered ‘justice’, and rejected ‘sameness’–
well and good, says Jocasta, but such values as he himself chooses to uphold are not
above suspicion either: πλεονεκτεῖν may sound like something worth pursuing, but
when you look at it properly, it may not be that at all.
Having thus disposed of the main burden of her speech,166 Jocasta proceeds to
address her sons individually. To Eteocles she puts ‘two λόγοι at once’ (δύο λόγω
προθεῖσ’ ἅµα, 559) – would he rather be τύραννος, or save Thebes? – but immediately adds that this is a false dilemma: for if he chooses to be king, and is defeated,
Thebes will lose the riches that Eteocles sought to possess (561-5). Polynices, by contrast, is accorded a single thing to ponder – he was a fool to march with a foreign
army on his own birthplace (569-70); but this single proposition nonetheless has a
dual implication. Both winning and losing the battle will necessarily result in disaster,
the former in the destruction of his native city, the latter in his disgrace in his adopted
city: standing to gain nothing, Polynices is ‘pursuing a twofold misfortune’ (δύο κακὼ
σπεύδεις, 582). Neither of the two arguments that Jocasta addresses to her sons seems
in itself particularly compelling, and Jocasta’s primary goal in constructing them
seems rather to correct her sons in terms that each can understand: Eteocles should be
made to see that his analytical rejection of ‘justice’ makes no odds, and Polynices
should understand that his monolithical insistence on the ‘justice’ of his case is impossibly one-sided.
Rather than resulting in a judgeable issue, then, Phoenician Women’s ἀγών
has produced a deadlock: the two ἀγωνισταί have stated their cases and the arbitrator
has given her comment, but we are no closer to a satisfactory solution to the underlying problem. Accordingly, Jocasta concludes her arbitration speech on the wry observation that:
ἀµαθία δυοῖν, | ἐς ταὔθ’ ὅταν µόλητον, ἔχθιστον κακόν.
(585-6)
‘The obtuseness of a pair of opponents, when they come together, is
the worst of calamities’;
165
Cf. the discussion of Fraenkel, ‘Phoenissae’.
166
These sections, which conspire to make Jocasta’s speech the longest extant ῥῆσις in the Euripidean
corpus, have by many been considered to be of merely tangential relevance: e.g. Lloyd, Agon 90 (“a
defence of democracy against tyranny, which has only superficial relevance to the immediate issue”);
Mastronarde, ‘Optimistic Rationalist’. Jocasta’s general criticism of tyranny, including the subsequent
lines (559-67) addressed to Eteocles, are deleted for their seeming irrelevance by Kovacs, ‘Demagogues and Tyrants’; but see Mastronarde on Pho. 549-67 (p.307-8).
Chapter III
137
and, as if in response to his mother, Eteocles observes that ‘the ἀγών is no longer one
of λόγοι’, and reaches for his weapons.167 In the context of the drama, both these remarks seem to constitute a final allusion – a farewell, as it were – to the Protagorean
notion of the ‘two λόγοι’, before the play’s action inexorably moves on towards escalating violence.
6. Conclusion
In this chapter I have discussed four plays in which Euripides can be seen to reflect
upon the idea of the ἀγών, as it was theorised by Protagoras and inscribed in Athens’
political institutions at least from the Periclean era onwards. The main vehicle of this
reflection is a distinctive handling of the poet’s hallmark ‘agon’ scenes: in various
ways, the embedding of these scenes in the plays’ structure, the characterisation of the
persons involved in the debate, the issues at hand, and the impact (or otherwise) of the
debate upon the dramatic action, all contribute to the creation of a perspective from
which the audience are invited to look upon ‘agonistic’ procedure afresh.
In section 1.1 above, I set out with the observation that Euripidean ‘agon’
scenes tend to be inconclusive: they generally fail to affect the course of the action.
Two of the dramas discussed in detail above are exceptions to this ‘rule’: in Children
of Heracles, the ἀγὼν λόγων leads unproblematically to the right decision; and Hecuba’s action culminates in a morally ambivalent, but procedurally sound judgement
that follows directly from the ‘agon’. Hecabe’s victory in this successful ἀγὼν λόγων
is especially remarkable, as Hecabe herself is vehemently opposed to the idea of the
ἀγών: from the outset, she regards it as a corruptible institution; and even though she
gradually comes to realise that, if she is to have her way, she must engage with the
ἀγών, she emphatically rejects the principle that both λόγοι that arise from a given
πρᾶγµα deserve a hearing. The more or less contemporaneous Suppliant Women likewise features a character who is fundamentally opposed to the idea of an ἀγὼν λόγων,
viz. the Theban Herald who comes to dissuade Theseus from putting the decision
whether to help the Suppliants to the vote. The agonistic debate between the Theban
and the Athenian does not affect the latter’s already made-up mind to win the δῆµος
over to an exemplary decision; but the Theban’s acute criticism of democracy, even as
it goes unrefuted, gives greater depth to that decision, by making the spectators aware
of the precarious nature of Athenian-style deliberation. Both these plays offer their
167
Pho. 598: οὐ λόγων ἔθ’ ἁγών (Canter’s palmary emendation of the MSS’s unmetrical οὐ λόγων ἔστ’
ἀγών). The expression οὐκ ἔργον or – less frequently – ἀγών with genitive/infinitive seems to be a
common way of characterising an action as out of place (cf. Or. 1292: οὐχ ἕδρας ἀγών ‘It is not the
time for sitting still’, and see Willink ad loc. [p. 294]; Barrett on Hipp. 911 [p. 338]); and Mastronarde
on Pho. 598 would read that idiom here as well. However, since Eteocles’ words follow immediately
upon an actual unsuccessful verbal ἀγών – to which the form ἁγών clearly refers back – a stronger interpretation seems required. Kovacs’ translation (“it’s too late for contests of words”) strays quite far
from the Greek.
138
Chapter III
audiences an opportunity to reflect upon the idea of the ἀγών, showing how this idea
can accommodate contrary voices in a more complex and significant way than the
straightforward template dramatised in Children of Heracles allows.
A wholly different effect is achieved with the ‘agon’ scene of Phoenician
Women. Like its counterpart in other plays, this scene is set to make a difference: if
Jocasta were to reconcile her quarrelling sons, the siege of Thebes could yet be
avoided – although the audience, of course, know that things will not end that way. As
in Hecuba, one of the ἀγών’s participants is dead set, precisely against the idea of an
ἀγὼν λόγων; but as this reluctant ἀγωνιστής faces a self-professed champion of
‘ἀµφιλεκτὸς ἔρις’, no constructive dialogue emerges, and the ἀγωνισταί part without
anything having been achieved.
Like that of Suppliant Women, this handling of the τόπος of the ‘inconclusive
agon’, I would suggest, is quite dictinctive. As we have seen above, the ‘agon’ scenes
of plays like Hippolytus, Alcestis and Medea make no difference because too much
has already happened: the tragedy in these plays is that deliberation comes too late.
The first two ‘agon’ scenes of Andromache, by contrast, are inconclusive because too
much is happening on the side: here (as in the more obviously ironical Trojan
Women) the tragedy is that the sympathetic character can, to all intents and purposes,
win the ἀγών, yet gain nothing by her victory. In Phoenician Women’s ‘agon’ scene,
there are no winners or losers – or rather: it is Jocasta, acting as the ἀγωνοθετής, who
has to acknowledge defeat. By staging an ἀγὼν λόγων between two contestants who
disagree, not so much over the issue at hand, but principally over the merits of debating this issue in the first place, and by having this ἀγών degenerate into an ἀγών that
is ‘no longer about λόγοι’, Euripides confronts his audience with the fact that agonistic deliberation can break down on purely internal grounds. As exemplified in the
‘agon’ scene, the community depicted in Phoenician Women is polarised between a
reactionary world-view that insists on the ‘singleness of truth’s µῦθος’ and an analytical world-view that atomises crucial values to the extent that meaningful debate becomes impossible. This polarisation leaves no room for the moderate world-view embraced by Jocasta, and must in terms of the dramatic action be seen as a contributing
factor to the fatal civil war that ensues.
Inasmuch as Euripides uses his ‘agon’ scenes to problematise the idea of the
ἀγὼν λόγων, the early Children of Heracles and the late Phoenician Women can thus
be situated on opposite ends of a scale, with the other dramas discussed above falling
somewhere in between. Other sources – notably Aristophanic comedy, but also Thucydides’ account of the post-Periclean decline of Athens’ deliberative culture – attest
to an ongoing controversy over the thesis, associated with Protagoras, that every
πρᾶγµα gives rise to ‘two opposing λόγοι’; and what I hope to have shown in this
chapter is that in a number of his plays, this controversy informs the way Euripides
handles the idea of the ἀγὼν λόγων in his ‘agon’ scenes, with various outcomes. In
the following chapter, I extend this demonstration to the poet’s Orestes, a play more
or less contemporaneous with Phoenician Women, that similarly depicts a community
fatally divided within itself.
Chapter III
139

Download Report

III Euripides and the idea of the ἀγών

Paperzz.com

Your Paperzz