1) Tireseas tells Creon “pride is a crime.” Creon, however, is far from the only character guilty of this human stumbling block. Discuss how other characters also fall victim to pride’s traps.

2) Creon says that the most difficult thing for him to do is “giving up his heart’s desire.” Describe the “heart’s desire” of Antigone and reflect on how her family history plays role in her own struggles with desire. Consider her attraction to death and refusal to bend as factors in her own fate.

3) The messenger brings the news that all is “lost, all gone.” What might he mean beyond the literal reality of the suicides?

4) The messenger tells Eurycide, “Truth is always best.” Is it?

5) The final lines of the play are voiced by the Chorus, whose lament claims that “Wisdom is the greatest part of joy” and that when humanity suffers “blows,” we are taught wisdom. Support or refute this argument using specific examples from the play and/or from historical events.

The conclusion of Antigone is action-packed, to say the least!   The problems discussed in earlier lessons, such as Antigone’s obsession with death, Creon’s misogyny and the corruption of leadership are all intensely revisited.  Tragedy compounds tragedy, as the victims of the original Oedipal curse add more numbers to their body count. 

In line 900, Antigone pleads to the chorus to understand the finality of Creon’s decree.  She cautions the assembly that her current fate will eventually be met by all mortals, but the gods have decided that her time has come whether she feels ready or not.  Creon, she argues, has forced their hands.  Now those lords of the underworld are leading her “down to the banks of Acheron alive” (904).  ”Acheron” is translated as “the river of sorrows,” an apt title for Antigone who anticipates her decent into its “dark waters” (907).

When Antigone finishes her appeal, the chorus chides her as being singled out for special punishment saying to the young prisoner “(you are) a law to yourself / alone” (912).  In this respect, Antigone has something in common with Creon:  both interpret the laws on their own; both will suffer equally tragic consequences.

Antigone defends herself by calling up a list of “character witnesses” from the past.  She urges the men to “think of Niobe,” widely considered to be one of the most tragic female characters in mythology, and compares her own sentence to that of Niobe’s, anticipating a “rocky death like hers.”  (In Greece, there really is a rock formation that resembles a woman’s face and is thought to be the image of Niobe.  The formation is called “Spil Mount” and can still be seen today.) 

As the dialogue continues, the chorus is beginning to be swayed, or at least to see Antigone’s tragic history as a motivator for her actions, asking her, “do you pay for your father’s terrible ordeal?”  Of course, Antigone has long believed that this is exactly what has happened.  She details the tragic consequences of her parents’ coupling.  Her assesment of her mother is rife with symbolism of her disgust.  The treachery and deceitfulness of snakes is the symbolism she chooses, describing Jocasta’s marriage bed as “coiling with horrors.”  There is some softening in Antigone’s rhetoric towards her mother — she calls her “doomstruck,” helpless towards her ultimate fate. 

Progress with the chorus, however,  seems to have slipped by the time Antigone recounts her parent’s story.  They charge, “Your own blind will, / your passion has destroyed you.”  Ironically, none of the chorus seems to realize yet that Creon is guilty of the same blindness and passion.

Creon’s patience with Antigone (paper-thin to begin with) has reached its end.  As he bellows for his son’s fiance to be taken away, we see him lose any credence he may have earlier retained in his punshiment of Antigone; his demand that she be “wall(ed) up in the tomb” and his orders to the soldiers to “abandon her there, alone,” go beyond keeping order, they are pure hate and revenge.  Furthermore, as was discussed in earlier posts, he takes away Antigone’s fundamental status as a rightful citizen of Thebes, and a heir to its royal lineage as well.  This smacks of totalitariansim, not democracy.

Antigone is resigned to her fate (and as also discussed earlier) welcomes it.  Like Niobe in previous lines, she seems eager to take her place among the fabled women of mythology:  “I’ll soon be there,” she promises, “soon embrace my own / the great growing family of our dead / Persephone has received among her ghosts” (980-983).  Again, she reiterates her belief in the gods’ laws, which she feels she is faithfully following, and rejects any attempts to sway her otherwise.

For Creon, her intransigence makes it all the easier for him to carry out his revenge.  As Antigone cries out, “Oh, god, the voice of death.  It’s come / it’s here,” one can fairly hear the snide tone in Creon’s voice on the printed page:  “True.  Not a word of hope — your doom is sealed,” he says.

Following Antigone’s example, the chorus too evokes names from the pantheon of doomed mythological heroines, comparing Antigone’s plight to that of Danae and that of “young Lycurgus.”  They recall the “far north where the Black Rocks / cut the sea in half,” due to the outrage of the god Ares, and recall Danae’s suffering at the whim of the North Wind (also known as the god Boreas) as well as her helplessness at the hands of the Fates. 

Enter the blind prophet Tireseas.  He has been a long-time confidant of Creon’s and does not demonstrate any of the sycophantic tendencies others display in the king’s presence.  Indeed, he tells Creon outright, “I will teach you.  And you obey the seer.”   Creon quickly responds, “I will, / I’ve never wavered from your advice before”  (1093-1095).

Tireases reveals the vision he has seen.  It’s not good.  The images of talons, death and despair, disease and bloodshed, and perhaps even worse, the “gods deaf to our prayers,” is the future for Thebes and its ruler.  Free will does have some role to play, however, Tireseas argues.  Creon can reign in his hubris, admit that he has been wrong, and swallow his pride. 

Instead of heeding this advice, Creon lashes out and goes on a tirade against his advisor and anyone else who would dare question his authority.  He yells, “You and the whole breed of seers are mad for money!”(1170).  Tireseas is unimpressed and even angrier.  He delivers his last propechy to Creon:  “The chariot of the sun will not race through / so many circuits more, before your own loins, / your flesh and blood, / a corpse for corpses (are) given in return…” (1180-11185).  Tireases warns of “the great hatred” that “rises against” him, and takes his leave. 

Perhaps now aware of his mistakes, Creon begins to doubt his own bluster.  He asks the leader if he should indeed admit his fault and is advised to do so immediately.  He flees to the tomb where Antigone is being held, intent on undoing his wrongs.

Unfortunatley, his time has run out.  A messenger arrives to tell the chorus the horrific news of Antigone’s suicide by hanging, Haemon’s failed attempt to murder his father, and then Haemon’s own suicide by turning his sword on himself.  Eurycide, the queen, arrives just to hear enough to question what has happened.  Cognizant of the web lies create, the messenger tells Eurydice, “truth is always best,” and describes the deaths of both Haemon and Antigone.  (Be aware of the use of color symbolism in the messenger’s lines:  red is not only literally blood, but symbolically passion and anger.  Likewise, “white” is not only the color of Antigone’s veils, but also represents her innocence and purity.)

Eurycide takes the news in stoic silence.  Some among the chorus feel that this is a good sign, but others know better.  The leader rightly observes, “a long heavy silence promises danger, / just as much as a set of empty outcries” (1381-1383).

It is not long before the discovery of Eurycide’s suicide.  Tireseas’ prophecies have been fulfilled.  Creon is ruined as a ruler; he is utterly alone in the world.  In the final lines of the play, the chorus reflects on the tragedy and hopes to impart lessons for the future, warning, “The mighty words of the proud are paid in full / with mighty blows from fate, and at long last / those blows will teach us wisdom.” 

As we pick up the dialogue once again, the first thing to be aware of is the differing assessments of Ismene.  The chorus is full of sympathy, noticing her tears, her flushed face and how her overwhelming sorrow “puts her lovely radiance in the dark.”  Clearly, Creon holds quite a different opinion of the distraught woman before him.   He calls Ismene a “viper, slinking undetected / sucking my life-blood!” 

Antigone has a third take on the character of her sister.  She rejects any appeals Ismene offers to share in her grief and in her punishment.  In her vitriolic rejection of Ismene, Sophocles offers us a complex character.  While Antigone claims to be doing the will of the gods, there is more than a little preoccupation with the rewards due her in Hades: her love of the dead exceeds any compassion for the living.  While Antigone is full of pardon for her brother and willing to do anything to comfort him, even at the expense of her own life, she offers no such compassion for her sister.  Ismene pleads, “Oh no, my sister, don’t reject me, please, / let me die beside you, consecrating the dead together!”  but Antigone scoffs, “Never share in my dying, /don’t lay claim to what you never touched. / My death will be enough.”  For Antigone, there is no room for forgiveness.  Furthermore, she is blatantly unfair to Ismene, who, once again trying to prove her love and loyalty to Antigone agonizes, “What do I care for life, cut off from you?”  But Antigone’s response is the curt, “Ask Creon.  Your concern is all for him.”  Obviously this is not the case.

As the two sisters continue their exchange, Antigone’s preoccupation with the dead and their world becomes ever more apparent.  She tells Ismene (as well as Creon and the chorus by default):  “I chose to die” and “I gave myself to death , / long ago, so I might serve the dead.”

Following Antigone and Ismene’s argument, Ismene addresses Creon, who once again reveals both his cruelty and misogyny, two character flaws that are incongruous with a just and diplomatic head-of-state.  Creon’s world, much like Antigone’s, is black-and-white.  When Ismene expresses shock that Creon would have his own son’s fiance put to death, his cold reply is, “(T)here are other fields for him to plow” (in other words, women are interchangeable and replaceable.)  The choral leader asks Creon if his mind is truly made up.  His answer shows both his hatred and fear of women, as well as his underestimation of Antigone’s strength.  He orders the leader:  “Stop wasting time. / From now on they’ll act like women. / Tie them up, no more running loose; / even the bravest will cut and run, / once they see Death coming for their lives.” 

Finally, the chorus seems to be “getting it.”  They understand the injustice being done here, and as they review the history of the plight of the Oedipal household, they remember that no matter what a man decides or how virulently he argues (or tries to circumvent Fate), the law of the gods “throughout the future, late and soon / as through the past, your law prevails: / no towering form of greatness / enters into the lives of mortals / free and clear of ruin…Sooner or later / foul is fair, and fair is foul / to the man the gods will ruin”  — / He goes his way for a moment only / free of blinding ruin.” 

The entrance of Haemon, Creon’s son, takes the play into deeper emotional and spiritual territory.  Creon is quick to challenge his son, before the young man can say a word:  “Are you coming now, raving against your father?” he asks.  “Or do you love me, no matter what I do?”  Such blind loyalty is not the mark of a true leader, especially one who is supposed to be upholding the tenets of democracy. Creon continues pressing, asking if Haemon will “subordinate to (your) father’s will in every way…be dutiful and attentive” and promise to “never lose your sense of judgment over a women…a worthless woman.”  Creon’s penchant for totalitarianism is completely revealed as he tells Haemon (and again, by default, all who are present), “that man / the city places in his authority, his orders / must be obeyed,/ large and small, / right and wrong.”  Is this the way a democracy should operate?  Certainly not!

Haemon shows his mettle when he stands up to his father, rejecting the sycophantic ways of others in the room.  He is unafraid to tell Creon what is being whispered about him on the streets; the general consensus is that “No woman…ever deserved death less” and they call her burial of Polynices “glorious” and think she instead deserves “a crown of gold!”  Haemon boldly advises his father to not be “quite so single-minded, self-involved, / or assume the world is wrong and you are right.” 

Hoping to reach his father by whatever rhetorical device works, Haemon uses a beautiful analogy to make his point.  He compares a leader who is able to bend with that of a tree that survives a storm:  “You’ve seen trees by a raging winter torrent, / how many sway with the flood and salvage every twig, / but not the stubborn — they’re ripped out, roots and all.  Bend or break.”  Admit that you have been wrong, Haemon advises, or be replaced altogether.

Nothing gets through to Creon.  He bellows back,  “And is Thebes about to tell me how to rule?”  If things were operating properly, absolutely, but sadly, Creon has gone past this point.  Haemon reminds him, “It’s no city at all, governed by one man alone.”  Creon’s final retort, the one he feels most hurtful, is “This boy, I do believe, is fight on her side, the woman’s side,” and continues for several more lines with his derogatory comments about women.  Haemon exits, defeated and bitter that his father has become so hardened.  The chorus wrings its hands about the tribulations of love and await the arrival of Antigone once again. 

1) Why does Antigone seem to be so attracted to death?

2) How has Creon become a corrupted leader?

3) What is Creon most afraid of and why?

4) Find specific lines that indicate Creon’s misogyny. What do they say about his character and ability to lead?

3) Is Antigone a feminist?

4) Do you see any modern parallels to political corruption?

5) Speculate on the way the Chorus changes their opinions of Creon through line 895.

6) How do you think the play will conclude?

In eText, read from:

Lo from out the palace gate,
Weeping o’er her sister’s fate,
Comes Ismene

until Haemon’s lines,

Think not that in my sight the maid shall die,
Or by my side; never shalt thou again
Behold my face hereafter. Go, consort
With friends who like a madman for their mate.
[Exit HAEMON]

As we delve more deeply into the play, some themes become increasingly evident:  Creon’s maniupulation of the Chorus, the Chorus’ first inklings of misuse of power, Antigone’s attraction to death and Hades (the underworld), Creon’s ranking his law above the laws of the gods, and the misogyny that clouds his judgment. 

First, let’s talk about the Chorus.  Before the sentry arrives with his news, they are eager to hear how Creon will guide the city through its latest crisis, asking hopeful questions such as “What, I marvel, pondering? / Why this summons? / Wherefore call / Us, his elders, one and all, / Bidding us with him debate, / On some grave concern of State?” 

At this point, the statesmen have no reason to doubt Creon.  A king’s duty was to protect its citizenry in times of danger, and to consult with the elders on matters of security.  The assembly has no reason to be displeased with what Creon has to say to them in the beginning.  He comforts them by projecting himself as a strong leader, the helmsman at the “ship of state” who remained steadfast even as the gods tested him and as the city went through the “long, merciless pounding of the storm” (the battle between Oedipus’ sons and himself.)   Now the gods have rewarded Thebes by having “righted her once more.”  Creon praises the chorus for its loyalty and recognizes that the elders “stood by” Oedipus’ children as well they should have at the time; their allegiances were in the right place.  But now, he argues, both of the sons of Oedipus have died, and as the “next in kin to the dead,” Creon claims that he now has the right to “the throne and all its powers.”

Ironically, Creon himself raises the sticky problem of assessing leadership when he declares “Yet ’tis no easy matter to discern / The temper of a man, his mind and will, / Till he be proved by exercise of power; / And in my case, if one who reigns supreme / Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied / By fear of consequence, that man I hold, / And ever held, the basest of the base.” Creon has yet to prove himself in a sustained leadership role.  But at this point, the chorus still has nothing to quibble with precisely.  Creon’s statement, “whoever places a friend / above the good of the country, he is nothing” would have been very acceptable and welcome rhetoric, for the good of the city was held paramount to all else. 

But as Creon continues with his vitriolic decree against any man who dares bury or mourn the corpse of Polynices, some faint warning bells begin to sound in the chorus’ collective conscience.  The choral leader acknowledges the king’s right to treat the enemy’s body as he sees fit, but there is some doubt about his decision.  He says, “The power is yours, I suppose, to enforce the laws…”.  This little word, “suppose,” is the first questioning of Creon’s motivations.

The arrival of the sentry does nothing to soothe these early fears.  Everyone has heard the expression, “don’t kill the messenger,” and of course, we do not mean it literally.  Bearers of bad news in Sophocles’ time indeed faced the possibility of being killed for their delivery of unpleasant messages.  (As far as I am able to find, the expression itself, in this form, originated right here in Antigone.)  As the sentry reluctantly tells the news of the burial of Polynices, Creon loses a grip.  When the choral leader suggests that the burial might “possibly be the work of the gods,” he becomes enraged, accusing the leader of being senile or insane.  As with all megalomaniacs, Creon begins to show his paranoia, thinking some people have been out to get him from the beginning and more are likely to follow if he doesn’t maintain a tight-fisted rule: “No, from the first there were certain citizens / who could hardly stand the spirit of my regime…. / These are instigators, I’m convinced — / they’ve perverted my own guard, bribed them / to do their work.” 

Creon’s cruelty is also beginning to be more overt.  He not only threatens to kill the sentry if he does not provide accurate information, but also to torture him as well.  “(S)imple death won’t be enough for you,” he growls, “not till we string you up alive / and wring the immortality out of you.”  Though a simple man and hardly a moral one, the sentry does have some valuable insights into Creon’s character, especially when he argues, “Oh it’s terrible when the one who does the judging / judges things all wrong.” 

Still, the chorus, while feelings some doubts, tries to reassure its members that the king has the good of the city at heart.  They go back to their earlier ways of praising men who must wrestle with the troubles of the world, contend with the slings and arrows of fortune (to use Shakespeare’s words).  The men try to convince themselves that, in the end, it is the governing body of the city who will “cast out / that man who weds himself to inhumanity / thanks to reckless daring.”  They will have a chance to practice what they preach as Antigone is hauled before Creon.

Creon is incredulous that a woman, that lesser of beings, could be capable of defying his rule.  Antigone is not the least hesitant to claim responsibility:  “I did it.  I don’t deny a thing,” she emphatically confesses.  Antigone is challenging both Creon and the leadership to acknowledge that the rule of the gods is of higher importance than the rule of men.  She has no fear of death, in fact, one could easily argue (as many have) that she welcomes and desires death.  She wants to be free of the pain of the living and dwell forever among the shades:  “And if I am to die before my time,” she says, “I consider that a gain. Who on earth , / alive in the midst of so much grief as I , / could fail to find his death a rich reward?” 

For his part, Creon looks upon his niece’s defiance as both a challenge to his authority and a challenge to his manhood.  Though in his heart he may know that Antigone is right (god’s law is above man’s law, even if that man is the king) his pride (also called “hubris”) will not take a hit.  “If I am not the man, not now:  she is the man / if this victory goes to her and she goes free,” he claims.   Before Creon commands Antigone’s sister, Ismene, to come before him, he reiterates his stubbornness, yelling to Antigone, “Go down below and love , / if love you must — love the dead! While I am alive, / no woman is going to lord it over me.”  Creon’s hubristic stance will  bring the wrath of the gods upon his family and ultimately, and more importantly, the city of which he is supposed to be the guardian. 
 

Read lines 173-594. 

In eText, this will be from Creon’s line that begins,

Elders, the gods have righted one again
Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port.

And concludes with Creon’s declaration to Antigone,

Die then, and love the dead if thou must;
No woman shall be the master while I live.
[Enter ISMENE] 
 

As the play opens, we find Antigone lamenting the death of her dear brother, Polynices. Immediately you must have some background knowledge of the family history to fully understand her line “dear Ismene / how many griefs our father has handed down!” and her distinct feeling that the gods are actively working to make her family’s lives miserable. (Please see this post for the “curse” of which Antigone speaks)

Soon the audience learns what the latest problem is for the daughters of Oedipus. Creon has declared that Polynices’ body be left unburied, and even unmourned, “a lovely treasure / for birds to scan the field and feast to their hearts content,” Antigone cries. Polynices had tried to overthrow Creon’s rule, while his brother, Etocles, remained loyal to Creon. Again, for more information on their conflict, click the link above.)

Antigone goes on to say that she has heard that Creon has declared “martial law” and that “Whoever / disobeys in the least will die.” Don’t skip over this important element! Remember, Athens was a democracy. It will be the first hint that Creon has become power obsessed, putting his own grudges against what is best for his city and its people. More on this later.

Ismene and Antigone squabble. Antigone declares that she will see to it that her brother will be buried, no matter what penalty she must personally pay. Ismene balks, saying at first only that “the law forbids the city” to bury Polynices.

Antigone is scornful. She finds it incredible that her sister would allow her brother to suffer the fate of dead souls who are not given a proper burial. The Greeks believed that any body not buried was condemned to roam restlessly for eternity, never given a moment of comfort. Antigone cannot bear to think of this happening to her beloved brother.

But more important than even this plot element is the setting up of the ultimate conflict of Sophocles’ tragedy: Antigone is recognizing a higher law than man’s law, even if that man is the king. She firmly believes that her first duty is to the gods. Creon, as will be shown, has become heady with power, and forgetful of this greater responsibility. For Antigone, though, she can never forget her ultimate duty. When Ismene tries to back out of helping, she weakly offers the excuses, “Remember, we are women, we’re not born to contend with men. / Then too, / we’re underlings, ruled by much stronger hands, so we must submit in this, and things still worse.”

Antigone’s response is one that is hard with which to argue. She shoots back at her sister, “I have longer to please the dead than the living here: / in the kingdom down below I’ll lie forever. / Do as you like, dishonor the laws / the gods hold in honor.”

Ismene cannot be convinced completely to defy the city. Once again, you must remove yourself from modern times and understand how integral loyalty to the city was for the Greeks. Soon after Antigone and Ismene’s argument, the Chorus enters. They are full of praise for Creon, who has defeated the coup attempt of Polynices’ army. Their rhetoric is like the choral praise of older times (see this post), full of effusive accolades for the king who has protected the city.

Pay attention to the choral intrusions, for they contain valuable foreshadowing, sometimes ironically, of the coming action. For example, in lines 140-142, the chorus says, “Zeus hates with all bravado / the mighty boasts of men.” The chorus is correct on this point, but they do not yet understand that Creon is guilty of boasting and bravado at the cost of their city’s security. At the end of their speech, they are still completely unaware of Creon’s flaws and await his entrance with eagerness and obvious pleasure.

Based on the introductory material, respond to the following questions by Wed 11/07.

1) Speculate on the character of Antigone based on the introductory material. How do you expect her to react to the charges Creon will level against her?

2) Why do you think Creon is so angry? What ulterior motivations might make him react swiftly to Antigone’s breaking the law?

3) What elements of Antigone’s family past might be a foreshadowing of events to come?

Read Lines 1-172 (on eText, this is from the opening line until the line when Creon enters, attended by his guards:

“Why this summons? Wherefore call
Us, his elders, one and all,
Bidding us with him debate,
On some grave concern of State?
[Enter CREON]