Angela Copper 8 July
2016
Complex yet Evocative: The Undying Art of Tragedy
Tragedy, in its conversational usage, refers to an unfortunate, sad, and
perhaps unanticipated event. The academic definition of tragedy refers to a
genre which finds its roots in Greek drama. Even though I had a general
understanding of this latter meaning to tragedy—I knew of Medea and Hamlet,
Oedipus and Othello—for most of my student career I have still incorporated the
informal definition with the formal, meaning that in my mind a tragedy was
simply a “sad play.” Upon taking this class, however, I have learned a lot about
the meaning of tragedy as a literary genre. I have learned about the importance
of plot to a tragedy, as opposed to the importance of individual
characterization found in romance. I have learned of the “mixed” characters that
are found in tragedy—and how the unfolding of events upon these characters
intends to inspire catharsis, a strong release of emotions brought on by pity
and fear. Perhaps the most important thing that I have learned is that tragedy
is constantly evolving, growing. As an extremely complex genre which exhibits
human suffering as its primary design, tragedy will never “fall out of fashion.”
It is too near and dear to us. It is not looked down upon as a “lesser” genre,
as may occur with comedy and satire, and it does not make man out to be better,
as in romance. Tragedy strikes a chord with humanity in a way that other genres
fundamentally cannot.
While tragedy is interesting and complex and often shocking, it is not
perfect. If “the same qualities that make tragedy great may also limit in
complementary ways” (White) it is because tragedy, as any other genre, has its
confinements. While it certainly will not fall out of fashion, tragedy is not
particularly popular to start with. Tragic works do not make us joyful or
inspired in the same way that comedies and romances do. Especially in America,
tragedies are not as popular due to the tragic plot seeming to revolve around an
unavoidable chain of events. Whatever the “tragic hero” does to resolve a
situation only sows his fate deeper into the field. In an individualistic
culture, it is hard to relate to classic Greek tragedies wherein man is a puppet
or an insect, writhing in futility against the will of Fate and the gods.
Indeed, in an individualistic culture, traditional tragic heroes may not
be able find their place. Tragic characters are often more “noble” in station or
spirit than comic, romantic, or satirical characters, which does not correspond
with America’s “bring yourself up by your boot straps” culture. If a tragic hero
is born into wealth and power, has the gifts of wit and strength, yet still
finds themselves in a downward spiral, many modern audiences may find themselves
unsympathetic to the hero’s plight. When, in Sophocles’
Oedipus the King, Oedipus brags to
Tiresias, “Mock my excellence, but you will find out I am truly great”
(Sophocles 533), a modern reader may feel put off by Oedipus’ perceived
arrogance and privileged position. This lack of sympathy interferes with the
goal of “inspiring pity and fear” (Aristotle IX), also known as catharsis, which
Aristotle describes in Poetics.
Aristotle notes that it is important that a tragedy “not be the spectacle of a
virtuous man brought from prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity
nor fear; it merely shocks us” (Aristotle XII). Aristotle’s insight reveals that
the reason why tragedy has staying power, regardless of the heightened nobility
of tragic heroes, lies in its complexity.
Within this class I have learned that the complexity of tragedy comes
from its mimesis, or imitation. Tragedy imitates life, in all of its
intricacies. In Poetics, Aristotle
claims that “through imitation we learn our earliest lessons; and no less
universal is the pleasure felt in things imitated” (Aristotle IV). Aristotle
goes on to explain this pleasure through the example of a portrait painting. If
a portrait is very much like the subject, the onlooker can enjoy it in two ways:
by learning what the subject looks like if they have not seen the original
person, and by appreciating how best the subject is represented in color,
painting style, etc. The latter pleasure is an appreciation of the way that the
painting imitates the subject, also known as the painting’s mimesis. Mimesis can
be complex and layered, as in a portrait painting or in a comedian’s impression
of a celebrity; or it can be simple, as in a child’s imitation of a cat’s meow.
The
imitation of human emotion and action is what makes tragic characters less flat.
Instead of being fully “good” or “evil,” tragic characters are “mixed.” In our
approach to understanding tragic characterization, we discussed in class the
notion that tragic characters are just people doing the best they can with the
cards that they are dealt. No tragic character thinks themselves evil – they are
all doing what they believe is just or necessary. This can be seen through a
contrast of character analyses between the character Phaedra found within
Euripides’ Hippolytos and in Racine’s
Phaedra. In
Hippolytos, the character Phaedra
struggles to control her secret love for her stepson Hippolytos. Phaedra
explains that when she realized that her self-control was waning, her “only
obvious option was to die” (Euripides 3.72f) so that she would not act on her
desires and bring shame upon herself and her biological sons.
While Phaedra’s sexual desire for her son is profane, her resolution to
die before she carries out any damaging actions can be viewed as noble. When a
nurse later reveals Phaedra’s secret love to Hippolytos, Phaedra decides to hang
herself, leaving behind a tablet which accuses Hippolytos of raping her. This
again reaffirms the mixed nature of Phaedra’s character, as she sacrifices
honesty and morality by lying in exchange for assurance of the safety and
preservation of the untouched honor of her biological sons.
Though Racine’s Phaedra tells the
same tale of Phaedra’s illicit love for Hippolytos, there is a notable
difference in plot and thus in characterization. In Racine’s version, Phaedra
herself exposes her secret love to Hippolytos, who rejects her. Phaedra’s nurse,
Oenone, takes it upon herself to frame Hippolytos. This simple change shifts the
evil act of lying from Phaedra onto an outside character, so while in Racine’s
version Phaedra is guilty of attempted adultery, she is not guilty of falsely
accusing Hippolytos of assaulting her. Rather, even though Hippolytos’ father
Theseus proclaims to Phaedra “Since you accuse him, I’ll believe him guilty”
(Racine 1705), Phaedra still tells the truth, insisting on Hippolytos’
innocence. This slight difference in the plot and resulting characterization of
Phaedra within the same overarching story shows how complex the “mixed”
characters are in tragedy. All characters within tragedy have their redeeming
qualities as well as their faults, creating realistic depictions of humans who
resemble ourselves and those around us.
Often, in real life, the people surrounding us are our family. Parents and
children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives. This is also the case within
tragedies, the best of which, Aristotle notes, “are founded on the story of a
few houses [i.e., families] … who have done or suffered something terrible”
(Aristotle XIII). The reason why a story revolving around a family can make a
more complex and pitiable narrative lies within the nature of family relations,
which are logically more close and personal than the relationship between two
strangers or two enemies who come to harm one another. Due to the understood
closeness between relatives, strong pity is felt when the familial bond is
broken, “if, for example, a brother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son
his father, a mother her son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the kind is
done” (Aristotle XIV). This, therefore arouses the pity aspect of catharsis,
which is vital to a tragedy.
The
other aspect of catharsis, fear, can be excited through means of spectacle or
through the woven plot. Fear, in relation to catharsis, can be defined as a
feeling of shock and horror. In Aeschylus’
Agamemnon, the character
Clytaemnestra kills her husband Agamemnon as well as a blind prophet, Cassandra,
who he brings home with him as a prisoner captured during the Trojan War. The
stage directions outline when “[The palace doors open, revealing the bodies of
Agamemnon and Cassandra. Clytaemnestra stands over them. She is covered in
blood]” (Aeschylus 1622), detailing a gory scene which would be shocking to the
audience. While spectacle can be used in this way to inspire fear within an
audience, it is important that it is carefully managed. Within the same play,
the murder of Agamemnon was not shown on stage. An overdose of spectacle, such
as a brutal onstage stabbing, can detract from the pity aspect of catharsis. The
second way of inspiring fear, through plot device, can be observed within
Sophocles’ Oedipus the King, in which
fate curses Oedipus and his household, leading him to unknowingly murder his
father and marry his mother. Free will is seemingly laughed at by the gods when
Oedipus, trying to avoid a prophecy that was given to him by the Oracle at
Delphi, proves himself a mere puppet of Fate and the gods. Fear of the gods’
power would have been inspired within the Grecian audience who watched
Sophocles’ play. In the context of Ancient Greece, catharsis was considered to
be an important part of the Dionysia festival which hosted most of the tragedies
which survive to this day.
Though we no longer celebrate the god Dionysus and thus have no religious
inclination to experience catharsis, tragedy is still of value to modern
society. As detailed in the “Horace on the dual purpose of Literature” page on
the course website, literature, according to the Roman poet Horace, can have two
purposes “1) to entertain… provide escape from the limits of daily existence or
to delight a reader or audience with its adept imitation of reality” or “2) to
instruct … or provide models of behavior … to offer a moral or lesson; also to
model successful style for other writers or artists to imitate” (White).
Entertainment, while possibly more strongly present in comedies or romances,
still is found within tragedy. The final scene of Shakespeare’s
Hamlet shows an increased amount of
spectacle for the purpose of entertainment. The deaths of the King, Queen,
Hamlet, and Laertes all take place in the final scene, in which Hamlet and
Laertes participate in a fencing match. The entertainment of the play is
heightened by the choreography of the match as well as the gory onstage demise
of most of the leading cast. Wisdom through suffering is a common theme found
throughout tragedy, as in the Eumenides where Orestes declares “My misery has
been my teacher” (Aeschylus 333). Human suffering is often displayed within
tragedy as inspiring complex thought or emotion, as well as transcendence.
Through the suffering inspired by his family’s blood curse, Orestes realizes
that he must ask help from the goddess Athena if he is to ever escape the
Furies. Critical thinking as a result of experience (White) allows for not only
the characters, but also the audience to learn from the play.
The complexity of tragedy does not only lie within the limitations of
imitating the human psyche, it also can be found on a bigger, societal scale. As
mentioned on the “Mimesis” page of the Tragedy course site, tragedy is a form of
creative writing which “in imitating the world or its realities, puts the parts
of a world back together again, so that all themes or ideas are exposed as
overly simple and re-complicated, just as real life does to any and all ideas”
(White). This simplification of complex ideas as an imitated aspect of our
natural lives found within creative writing allows for the synthesis of complex
ideas and human emotion within art. For example, while nature of civil
disobedience can be discussed at length within a non-fiction essay, its ideas
may seem unnatural, unpleasurable, and uninteresting to us. Conversely, within
the text of Sophocles’ Antigone, the
theme of civil disobedience is not explained directly to the reader or viewer.
There is no critical analysis, but rather only the imitation of life, in which a
young woman who is protesting the injustice of a law which forbids the burial of
her brother is described as “not resisting” (Sophocles 425). In two words of
stage directions, Sophocles is able to create an imitation of life and reality
which can be interpreted to make a point about the value of passive resistance
in civil disobedience. This demonstrates one of the great values of tragedy, and
for that matter drama as a whole, which is to imitate life and human society in
a way that can be pleasurable to an audience, yet “provide information about the
nature of the world beyond the text” (White). This is to say that a work of
creative fiction can be just as, if not more effective in capturing the
attention of an audience and developing an interest in a particular theme or
idea due to the nature of mimetic appreciation in humans.
As
Scott Agruso said in his 2014 essay “Tragedy is Not Just a Sad Story,” while I
still do not know even half of all there is to know about tragedy, our class
discussions can act as a “sort of Rosetta Stone for understanding and
comprehending” tragic plays. When approaching tragedy, it is vital to understand
some of the components such as mixed characters, the importance of plot,
catharsis, mimesis, family, and wisdom through suffering. After understanding
the components of tragedy, the work as a whole can be appreciated more for its
depth. I find myself explaining to my friends and family how interesting tragedy
is, and how it’s not so depressing as it is engrossing and remarkable.
|