The Seduction of Pentheus

 In the manner of his type, the Messenger exits (or rejoins the chorus, possibly, in a modern instantiation) and is not seen again. But the impact of his words remains - Pentheus reacts to the presence of marauding Bacchae that invert, to a certain extent, the social function of women. In the following passage, his initial impulse toward military action is perverted into something . . . different.

But first, an initial note. From 534 on, this translation has been assisted by the Bryn Mawr (I believe) commentary on the Bacchae by Beth Causey. This commentary was a necessary crutch during the class I took several years ago, when Dodds was proving inadequate for our needs as students, to put it mildly. Unfortunately, like a work attended to by absentminded scribes, it survives only in fragments dredged out of my notebook, covering lines 534-1391. It provides consistently useful vocabulary help and explanations, although anyone hoping for thematic/analytical commentary will have to turn to Dodds or elsewhere.

Pentheus' interest is first in military action, but Dionysus instead persuades him to infiltrate the inner sanctum of the Bacchae to spy upon their proceedings. How does he change his mind so quickly, and acquiesce to the suggestions of his hated prisoner? The answer has at least two important components. One is that Dionysus plays upon an element that Pentheus has fixated upon from the beginning - his obsession with the supposed libidinous nature of the Bacchae. He desires to see them from a hidden location, to spy upon them while they are drunk, and beyond that, both our and Pentheus' imagination plays on. The tipping point is Dionysus' question at 811, which completely changes the nature of the stichomathia at that point. Dodds writes that it "has touched a hidden spring in Pentheus' mind, and his self-mastery vanishes" (175).

Dionysus' interaction with Pentheus is not limited to mere persuasion. Throughout the scene, wherein Pentheus is convinced to don the apparel of a Bacchant, in essence becoming what he hates, the god seems to be exercising some sort of mental power over the king. "What happens is rather the beginning of a psychic invasion, the entry of the god into his victim" (172), as Pentheus is alternately interested in and disturbed about his assisted crossdressing experiment, but offers no real resistance. Dionysus brags about how he's twisted the mind of Pentheus once his target leaves the stage, reversing Pentheus' attempts to influence the Dionysiac ritual (Who's the prisoner now? Why the talk of casting nets? For this reason.). Foreshadowing shades into a literal description of what will happen - Pentheus will be humiliated and killed, and the only question between now and the play's end will be the precise shape of Dionysus' irresistible power and how it destroys his unlucky opponent.

775-861

(Exit MESSENGER)

CHORUS: I’m afraid to speak honestly

to the tyrant, but it must be said all the same:

Dionysus has risen, no less than a god.

PENTHEUS: The arrogance of the Bacchae

already burns near, like a fire; it’s very wrong in Greece.

But we shouldn’t hesitate. Go towards the gate

of Electra! Command all the shield-bearers

and the entire cavalry with their swift-footed horses

and all that carry small shields and pluck bowstrings

with their hand to assemble so we may march

against the Bacchae. This crosses all the boundaries,

for us to suffer what we’ve already suffered from women.

DIONYSUS: Though you’ve heard my words, Pentheus,

you do not listen. Although I’ve suffered horribly by your hands,

I say you shouldn’t marshal soldiers against the god,

but relax. Bromios will not allow you

to displace the Bacchae from the hills of rejoicing.

PENTHEUS: Don’t instruct me! Shouldn’t you save yourself,

a fugitive from prison? Or should I inflict justice upon you again?

DIONYSUS: I would rather sacrifice to him than, as a mortal,

kick in fury against the divine goad.

PENTHEUS: I’ll make a sacrifice, a mass slaughter of women,

which they deserve, in the glades of Cithaeron.

DIONYSUS: All of you will flee. This is shameful, for shields

of beaten bronze to be defeated by Bacchic thyrsoi.

PENTHEUS: I’m tangled up with this impossible stranger,

who never shuts up, whether he’s victim or torturer.

DIONYSUS: Good sir, there’s still a chance to set things right.

P: By doing what? By being a slave to my slaves?

D: I will lead the women here, with no need for weapons.

P: Ah? Hmm. This is some trick you’ve devised against me.

D: What? If I want to save you through my own devices?

P: You’ve made some agreement with him, to keep your revelry.

D: This is true – I made an agreement with the god.

P: Bring my arms out here! Stop talking, you!

D: Ah,

do you want to go to the mountains to see the women lying there?

P: Very much! I’d give a countless amount of gold for that.

D: Why do you possess such great desire for this?

P: I should be ashamed to see them drunk.

D: Would you enjoy seeing things you think are hateful?

P: Surely I would, lying in silence among the trees.

D: But they’d track you down, even if you approach stealthily.

P: Clearly so. You’re using good reasoning.

D: Shall I guide you, then? Will you attempt this expedition?

P: Yes, as quickly as possible – I’m blaming you for delay.

D: Now, clothe yourself in these linen garments.

P: What’s this? You’re turning me from a man into a woman?

D: They’ll kill you if they see you’re a man there.

P: Again, you make a good point. How wise you’ve been all along!

D: Dionysus taught these things to me.

P: How can what you well advised me of be carried out?

D: I’ll go into the house and equip you.

P: In what clothes? Women’s clothes? I’m ashamed at this.

D: Then you aren’t a willing enough spectator of the maenads.

P: What’s this apparel you say you’ll put on my body?

D: I’ll straighten out some long hair upon your head.

P: What’s the next portion of my costume?

D: Floor-length robes, and a band across your forehead.

P: What else are you draping on me in addition to this?

D: A spotted fawnskin, and a thyrsus for your hand.

P: I can’t put on a woman’s clothes.

D: But you’ll cause bloodshed if you start a battle with the Bacchae.

P: Right. We have to go out first as reconnaissance.

D: Certainly that’s wiser than hunting evils with other evils.

P: How will I go through the city unseen by the Thebans?

D: We’ll go through lonely roads. I’ll take the lead.

P: All this is better than being ridiculed by the Bacchae.

I’ll go into the house . . . and plan out what seems best.

D: Possibly. As for me, I’m entirely ready and prepared.

P: I’ll go. Either I’ll advance carrying arms

or I’ll pay heed to your arguments.

(PENTHEUS exits)

D: Women, this man is caught in the cast of my net; he will

come to the Bacchae, and there he will pay the penalty and die.

            Dionysus, it’s your work now. You aren’t far off.

We will punish him. First of all, alter his mind,

put him in a dizzying madness. If his wits were whole,

he wouldn’t be willing to dress in women’s clothes,

but he’ll wear them since I drove him out of his mind.

I’d like him to bring the laughter of the Thebans onto himself,

venturing from the city dressed like a woman

as opposed to his previous boasts, which were horrible.

But I’ll attend to the costume which he’ll be wearing

when he goes to Hades, torn apart by his mother’s hands,

dressing him in it. He will understand that Dionysus

was born from Zeus, produced by a god’s authority,

most dreadful, but also kindest to men.

Notes:
The Gate of Electra is located at the southern end of the city of Thebes.

The Messenger's Speech

It's a little too late for analysis tonight.

677-774

MESSENGER: The pastured herd of calves was ascending

towards the crags, when the sun was

sending its rays and warming to the earth.

I saw three bands of dancing women:

Autonoë led the first, your mother Agave

the second, and Ino led the third.

All were sleeping, relaxing their bodies,

some were leaning their heads against the bark of firs,

some were modestly placing their heads on piles

of oak leaves on the ground at random, and were not,

as you said, intoxicated from wine and the lotus-pipe’s noise,

hunting Aphrodite throughout the forest in solitude.

            Your mother howled out loud, standing up

in the middle of the Bacchae, rousing their bodies

from sleep, as if she’d heard the roars of bulls with horns.

They threw off the bloom of sleep from off their eyes

and stood upright, a marvel of good order,

old ladies, young girls, and unmarried women.

First they arranged their hair about their shoulders

and raised up the fawnskin bonds of the girdles

they had loosened, and girded their spotted

hides with snakes that were licking their cheeks.

They nursed with white milk baby deer and fierce

wolf-cubs that they held in the crooks of their arms,

as many as had just given birth and left their

infants behind, women whose breasts were swollen.

They put on garlands of ivy, of oak,

and of the flowering smilax tree. One of them

who had a thyrsus struck it against a rock,

and there the dewy moisture of water sprung forth.

Another struck her wand on the ground’s surface,

and the god sent forth a spring of wine at that spot.

For as many as desired the white drink,

when they scratched the earth with their fingertips,

they found streams of milk; from the ivy

of the thyrsoi dipped streams of honey.

So, if you’d been present and seen these things,

you’d be sharing in the prayers to the god you now accuse.

            We came together, we shepherds and cowherds,

debating with each other about what we’d all seen,

as the women were performing miracles worthy of wonder.

Some wanderer from the town, experienced in speaking,

told everyone: “Dwellers of the holy

mountain-plains, do you want us to hunt

Agave, mother of Pentheus, out of the splendor of

Bacchic rites and give heed to our lord?” He seemed

to us to speak rightly, so we lay in ambush in the

olive bushes and hid ourselves there.

At the appointed time, the women moved

their thyrsoi in a Bacchic ritual,

calling Iacchus, Bromios, the son of Zeus,

their voices combined. The entire mountain and the beasts

were involved in the rite, nothing was motionless.

            Since Agave happened to be near me, I sprang,

jumping out and intending to grab her,

leaving the thicket where I’d been hiding.

She shouted “My roaming dogs,

we’re being hunted by these men! But follow me,

chase them with the thyrsoi you have in your hands!”

            We fled, escaping being torn to pieces

by the Bacchae, while they attacked the herd of calves

grazing on the plants, making war without weapons.

You would have seen one holding a bellowing,

swollen-uddered heifer in her two hands,

while others tore steers into little pieces.

You’d see them tossing ribs and cloven hooves

in all directions. Stained with blood, they stuck in the

branches of pines, dripping with gore.

As for the bulls, who had vented their fury before

with their horns, their bodies fell to the ground,

dragged down by the hands of countless young women.

The expanse of flesh was torn apart faster

than you could close your royal eyelids.

They moved along the stretches of the plains

like lofty birds in flight, the plains beside Asopus

that produce fruitful grain for Thebes.

They made an attack on Hysia and Erythra,

towns situated below the rocks of Cithaeron,

and scattered everything in every direction.

They seized children from the houses, and whatever

they put over their shoulders, although it wasn’t bound

in place, it still didn’t fall to the black earth, whether

it was bronze or iron. There was fire in their hair,

but they did not burn. Some out of anger took up arms

against the Bacchae and advanced against them.

Then there was a dreadful sight to see, O lord.

The men didn’t bloody their lance-headed weapons,

while those women, fighting with thyrsoi hand-to-hand,

wounded the men and forced them to retreat,

not without some assistance from the god.

Then they returned to where they made their advance from,

to the springs which the god created for them.

They washed off the blood, and snakes licked the

drops of it off the skin of their cheeks with their tongues.

            Whoever this god is, O master, admit him

into the city. As he is powerful in these other ways,

as I hear, they say he is that divinity

who gives the pain-ending vine to mortals.

If there were no wine, there would be no Aphrodite

nor any other delight remaining for men.

Notes:

Iacchus is a regional title of Dionysus meaning "lord of cries".

Asopus refers to a river that runs near Mt. Cithaeron.

Double Messages

This is a relatively short section of the play, chronicling Dionysus' confrontation with Pentheus after the collapse of the palace and also the arrival of a messenger from the ritual haunts of the Bacchae. Dionysus is unharmed, Pentheus is unfazed in his desire to persecute the mysterious stranger, and we have a further manifestation of Dionysus' power in the form of a phantom he conjures to torment the enraged Pentheus. At least, if you believe Dionysus' story.

Since I don't have much time for analysis today, I'll stick to one quick point. Most action in any Greek drama takes place offstage - the murder of Agamemnon, the suicide of Jocasta, almost every death, to be concise, as well as crowd scenes, violence, and anything that would require complex mechanisms to pull off onstage. Which might include the previous scene with the earthquake collapsing the house of Pentheus. These actions are relayed to the audience and the characters onstage, typically, by a nameless messenger devoid of obvious personality traits. The job of this messenger is to describe offstage action in striking terms in order to keep the audience's attention, painting a picture with words, so to speak.

Here we have, perhaps, two messengers in quick succession. Dionysus narrates events that occurred within the palace before, during, and after the quake - and not only does he do so, but he sometimes describes Bacchus in abstract terms, as if he were merely observing the god; but then again, he switches into the first-person at numerous points. Why does he do so? Is there a value for him in keeping his identity secret from the Bacchae, as opposed to Pentheus? Remember that, at this point, they only know him as their Bromios, their cult-leader, and not the deity. Is he being cautious so that the nearby Pentheus will not hear him? Dodds has no comment, unless I'm misreading him. When our second, proper, messenger arrives, his speech is immediately contrasted with Dionysus' in terms of his confidence. His initial reaction to Pentheus is fear, so much that he delays his (stage-typical) address to first seek permission.

The messenger's actual message will be translated in the next post.

617-676

DIONYSUS: I mocked him in this, that, while he seemed to chain me,

he didn’t touch me, didn’t hold me, but was fed by his hopes.

He found a bull at the feeding-trough where he shut me in,

and threw ropes around its knees, its hooves, its feet,

panting with his emotion, him biting his lips,

the sweat dripping from his body. I was sitting nearby

at rest and I beheld it. And at that very time

Bacchus came and shook the house and lit a fire

at his mother’s tomb. As Pentheus saw this, that the

house seemed to burn, he rushed to and fro, telling the slaves

to carry in water – all the slaves were busy at this, working in vain.

When he left this effort behind, since I had escaped,

he drew his dark sword and ran into the house.

Then Bromios, as it seemed to me – I’m stating my opinion –

created a phantom in the courtyard. Then Pentheus sprung forward,

attacked and stabbed the shining air, like he was slaughtering me.

Bacchus destroyed his dignity in this way and in others.

He crumbled his house to the ground. All was broken

by the one who saw my most bitter chains. After this

Pentheus gave up and dropped his sword; for as a man

he attempted to do battle with a god. Now, still at rest,

I’m leaving the house and coming for you, caring not for Pentheus.

            It seems to be that there are footsteps inside the house –

soon he’ll be at the entrance. What’ll he say about all this?

I’ll easily endure it, no matter what hot air he blows.

It befits a wise man to practice a wise good temper.

(Enter PENTHEUS)

PENTHEUS: I’ve suffered monstrous things! The stranger’s escaped me,

he who had just been confined by chains.

Eah! Eah!

It’s this man! What’s this? How did he leave

and show himself right here, in front of my house?

DIONYSUS: Stop there, and put a quiet foot under your anger.

PENTHEUS: How did you escape your bonds and get outside?

D: Didn’t I say – or didn’t you hear – that someone would free me?

P: Who? You’re always giving such bizarre explanations.

D: It’s he who generates the vine full of grapes for mortals.

P : [---here a line has been lost ---]

D: You reproach Dionysus for something wonderful.

P: I command that all towers on the perimeter be shut.

D: What’s this? Can’t gods step over the walls?

P: You’re wise, very wise, except for when you need to be.

D: Especially in those things – I was born wise in them.

Learn! Hear the report of this man,

who’s come as a messenger to you from the hills.

We’ll stay right here with you, and will not flee.

(Enter the MESSENGER)

MESSENGER: Pentheus, controller of the land of Thebes,

I left Cithaeron and came here, Cithaeron,

where the bright snowfall never disappears.

PENTHEUS: And you come to contribute what serious message?

MESSENGER: I saw the regal Bacchae, those that were stung

departed this land, running with white limbs,

I’ve come, I need to tell you and the city, lord,

that they do amazing things, more powerful than wonders.

I want to hear whether I can speak to you honestly

about what’s going on there, or if I should check my words.

Lord, I fear the quickness of your emotions,

your sharp-temperedness, and your extremely regal nature.

PENTHEUS: Speak, since you’ll be completely unharmed.

There’s no reason to become angry at just actions.

As much as you speak of the terrible acts of the Bacchae,

so much I will subject to justice the man

who introduced these practices to our women.

Notes:

The Troubled House

We start today's segment of the Bacchae with another choral passage known as the Second Stasimon (the First Stasimon was the previous choral episode). It contains a last appeal to Thebes, a denouncement of the hubris of Pentheus, and a reaffirmation of the chorus' faith in Dionysus, even though their leader is in captivity. It also, interestingly, ends with an extension of the choral passage as an exchange of song with Dionysus known as an epeisodion before returning to more typical tragic verse.

However, the most interesting part of this section is the first manifestation of Dionysus' power and will lead us into a discussion of Greek special effects. Dionysus' maenads, although they have escaped from prison, are concerned about their missing leader; the god answers their prayers by causing an earthquake which shatters Pentheus' palace and delivers him to freedom. Apparently no guards were stationed. We then see the interaction between the god and his followers, their insistent praise, and his warm but distant handling of their apprehension.

So what actually happened on stage? Was there a physical indication that palace had indeed collapsed? Dodds admits the possibility but is tentative in calling it a certainty, only venturing that offstage noise was likely used as accompaniment. He also claims that "palace miracles" were likely a common event in plays addressing the coming of Dionysus, citing as evidence the fragments of Aeschylus' Lycurgeia (xxxii). Which is only one set of plays, but whatever. A later scholarly interpretation of the same question which makes some bolder inferences (if I remember correctly) is Victor Castellani's "That Troubled House of Pentheus in Euripides' Bacchae". I might review the article later, as I have currently left it 700 miles from my present location. It is certainly not unfeasible that our Greek thespians could have created mechanical devices to pull the ever-present prop house apart, at least.

In a certain sense, this scene is all about perception. Our interlocutors repeatedly draw our attention toward the events at hand - if there is no physical evidence of the house falling to pieces, there is definitely elements in the performance which make it clear. The chorus repeatedly asks variations of "Don't you see?" to either the audience or each other, directing us towards and through the action, real-or-imagined (part of a complex idea scholars call deixis (dake-sis)). Even if we see nothing of the palace actually collapsing, there is another wrinkle. As people perhaps uninitiated into the cult of Dionysus, we may be unable to see the evidence of the divine power, since we have not ascended to the necessary plane. This is especially apt, given the earlier exchange between Dionysus and Pentheus where the mortal king is repeatedly mocked for not being able to perceive the manifestations of divinity. In this spot, we may ourselves be like Pentheus, called to observe the rituals of a deity or to run a terrible risk.

519-616

(Enter CHORUS)

CHORUS: Daughter of Achelous,

blessed maiden, queen Dirce,

you once held the Zeus’ baby

in your streams,

when Zeus, having begotten him,

seized him out of the divine fire
and put him into his thigh,

shouting out this:

“Go, Dithyramb, come

and enter my male womb,

I reveal you to Thebes,

O Bacchus, known by this name.”

But you expelled me, blessed Dirce,

while I controlled crown-wearing

bands upon your banks.

Why’d you reject me? Why’d you flee?

Yet, by the grape-cluster, the grace

of the Dionysiac vine,

Bromios will still matter to you.

Such rage, such rage

does the earthborn race display,

and also Pentheus, descended

from dragons, whom Echion

planted under the ground;

a wild monster, not

a mortal man, who fights

against the gods

just like a bloody giant.

He will quickly enclose me,

a follower of Bromios, in nets,

and currently is holding

a member of this band prisoner,

hidden away in dark prisons.

Do you look upon these things,

O Dionysus child of Zeus, and see

your prophets in contests of force?

Come down from Olympus,

shaking your golden thyrsus,

and restrain the hubris of this bloodthirsty man.

O Dionysus, where do you assemble

your mobs with your thyrsus, on

Nysa, the mother of beasts, or

on the mountaintops of Corycia?

Perhaps in the heavily wooded

hollows of Olympus, where

Orpheus once played the cithara

and called together the trees with his songs,

called together the fierce animals.

O blessed Pieria,

the god of Euoe reveres you,

he will soon be present, dancing

the Bacchic dances; he’ll stride past

the swift-flowing Axios,

leading his twirling maenads,

and father Ludias, giver of

happiness to mortals, whom they say

anoints the land of fine horses

with his beautiful waters.

(DIONYSUS is heard)

DIONYSUS: Oh,

hear me, hear my speech,

O my Bacchae, my Bacchae.

CHORUS: Who’s this? From where

does the clamor of Euoe call me now?

DIONYSUS: Oh, oh, I call again,

it is the child of Semele and Zeus.

CHORUS: O our master, our master,

come now to our gathering,

O Bromios, Bromios.

DIONYSUS: Queen of earthquakes, shake the ground of this land!

CHORUS: Ah, Ah!

Swiftly it shakes the palace of Pentheus

to pieces in a tumult.

Dionysus is throughout the palace.

Now be reverent to him! – We are reverent.

Do you see the stone lintel of the column

in ruination? Bromios shouts

under the roof inside.

DIONYSUS: Take up the fiery lightning-torch!

Burn, burn down the house of Pentheus!

CHORUS: Ah, Ah!

Don’t you perceive the fire, don’t you discern it,

around the sacred tomb of Semele,

where she, struck by lightning,

left a flame from Zeus’ thunder?

Throw, throw yourselves earthward,

trembling maenads! For our lord,

the son of Zeus, is present,

breaking the palace into pieces.

(DIONYSUS enters)

DIONYSUS: Barbarian women, were you so amazed with fear

that you fell to the ground? It seems you perceived that

the house of Pentheus is shaken to pieces. But stand up,

take courage, and stop the trembling of your bodies.

CHORUS: O greatest light of our joyous revelry,

such was my joy at seeing you when alone in solitude.

DIONYSUS: Did you come to faintheartedness when I was sent in

so I would fall into the dark enclosures of Pentheus?

CHORUS: How could I not? Who would be my guardian, if misfortune

happened to you? But how did you free yourself from that outlaw?

DIONYSUS: I saved myself easily, without any trouble.

CHORUS: Didn’t he bind your hands in snares and chains?

Notes
Achelous (akh-ey-loose) is a high-echelon river god who controls streams on the mainland after he was defeated by Oceanus, god of the sea.
Dirce (deer-kay) is a personified river that flows near Thebes.
Dithyramb is variously 1) Dionysiac choral performance, 2) a member of the Dionysiac band, 3) Dionysius himself as a quasi-personification of choral song.
As for Echion, recall that he was sowed into the earth as the tooth of a dragon by Cadmus and only then turned into a man.
Nysa is a mountain sacred to Dionsyus which is difficult to place, esp. given that there are over a dozen different mountains named Nysa.
Corycia is part of Mt. Parnassus.
Axios and Ludias are rivers in Macedon.

A Willing Victim

The play's second, shorter choral passage (just two pairs of strophes and antistrophes) opens with a technique I've briefly covered before, the transformation of a concept into a divinity. Holiness, the divine power that makes a god a god, is addressed directly, and with good purpose. To this point, the central issue of the narrative has been establishing the divine status of Dionysus (whether the play ends on the same point is another argument altogether). This technique is stressed further into the ode, where Desire (pothos) and Peace (irene) receive the same treatment.

Beyond this, the chorus delivers two alternating messages: the strophes concentrate on the peace which Dionysus delivers to man and wish for an escape to Cyprus, where the question of whether or not the Bacchae would be persecuted would be meaningless. The second strophe mixes the typical qualities of Dionysiac cult with a wish to be in the land of Aphrodite, near to deities of love and desire. This raises the question of how interconnected these two forms of worship were, especially since the chastity of the Bacchae is stressed on numerous occasions within the play. Dodds argues that "in the present context she is a symbol not of sensuality but of the happiness and liberation which comes from the gay and reverent acceptance of natural impulse. Her association with Dion., the other great Nature-power, is rooted both in popular thought and in the imagination of poets and artists" (123). I don't find this particularly believable, and would be inclined to see Euripides' portrayal of his maenads as slightly more complex.

The antistrophes focus more on what might be described as universal truths: what is good in life, how one can lead a good life, the nature of man's relationship to the gods. There are some beautiful thoughts here, although my personal favorites are later in the text.

In the next dialogue scene, we have a nameless attendant, a variation on the messenger character, a typical member of a Greek play's dramatis personae who usually delivers information about offscreen events (In this case, the capture of Dionysus). These characters also provide us a possible window into Greek social history, as they are typically the only lower-class characters present in a Greek play.

We also see the return of a particular type of exchange seen earlier in the scene between Tiresias and Cadmus: a series of single-line sentences which respond to each other. Here it occurs between the captive Dionysus and his interrogator Pentheus, and it functions as the mechanism by which the god torments his human opponent. The term for this interchange is stichomathia (stick-oh-math-ee-ah), and it often focuses on a concept called the icthus (ick-toos), or crudely the "thwack", wherein each sentence contains a central word or idea, which is then picked up by the next sentence and manipulated by the other speaker. Obviously not all sentences in stichomathia have an icthus, and some of the Greek wordplay does not translate well to English, so not every sentence will display this pattern. However, I hope that some of it is still noticeable. This process also ensures that these passages take the longest time and are among the most difficult to translate.

Perhaps most interesting to this point, we have seen no indication of Dionysus' true power. It has only been threatened and described in vague terms (paralleling Pentheus' graphic depictions of what he intends to subject the intruder to). His revenge upon Pentheus remains entirely in the audience's imagination, and the consistent, yet unclear, foreshadowing creates an atmosphere of suspense and perhaps dread as to the coming events of the play. All that is certain is that it will not end propitiously.

370-518

(CHORUS enters)

CHORUS: Holiness, queen of the gods,

Holiness, you who bear your

golden wings across the earth,

do you perceive the deeds of Pentheus?

Don’t you see the unholy hubris

towards the Bromios, the son

of Semele, he who is the god

blessed most of all in terms of

beautiful crowns and merriment?

He controls these things, brings Bacchantry in dances,

laughs along with the flute,

puts an end to cares,

whenever the joy of the grape

comes into the feasts of the gods,

and the drinking-cup

tosses sleep to ivy-wearing men

in their festivities.

There’s an unlucky fate

for unbridled mouths

and lawless foolishness.

A life of rest

and wisdom

remains tranquil

and holds houses together.

All the same, the children of the heavens,

who dwell in the ether far away

look over the affairs of mortals.

Cleverness is not wisdom,

it’s not mortal to be wise.

Life is short; if someone pursues

great things in such a span,

he doesn’t experience what’s at hand.

This, in my opinion,

is the fate of mindless

and ill-advised men.

I wish that I would come to Cyprus,

the island of Aphrodite,

where the gods of love

distribute their love-charms to mortals,

and to the hundred-mouthed rainless streams

of the barbarian river

that nourishes Paphos.

Lead me there, O Bromios, Bromios,

to Pieria, where the beautiful

seats of the Muses lie,

the holy slope of Olympus,

Euoe, O Bacchic spirit of worship.

There the Graces are,

there is Desire. There it is right

for Bacchae to celebrate.

The god, child of Zeus,

rejoices in festivals

and loves the goddess Peace,

giver of bliss, who raises young men.

He gives the same to the blessed man

and the unfortunate man, to have

the painless delight of wine.

He hates the man who cares naught for these,

to live a happy life through day

and blessed night,

to keep wise his mind and his heart,

and away from extravagant men.

I would wish to accept this:

whatever the majority of men

and the lower class think and deem right.

(exit CHORUS)

(Enter the ATTENDANT, DIONYSUS, and PENTHEUS)

ATTENDANT: Pentheus, we’re here, having caught the target

you sent us after, our efforts weren’t in vain.

The beast was tame for us, he didn’t withdraw

in flight, but he willingly gave his hands to us,

didn’t pale in fear, didn’t change his wine-dark complexion;

he laughed and ordered me to chain him and take him away,

and stayed put, making my job easily done.

I was ashamed and said to him “O Stranger, I’m not

seizing you willingly, but Pentheus gave me orders to do this.”

            Besides, the Bacchae which you confined, carried off

and bound in chains under the jailhouse roof,

they’ve vanished, escaped towards the meadows,

where they leap and invoke the god Bromios.

The chains spontaneously detached from their feet,

and the bars and doors opened, from no mortal hand.

This man has come to Thebes full of many wonders –

but it’s your job to take care of these things.

PENTHEUS: Release him. Since he’s already in the net,

he’s not swift enough to escape from me.

Still, your form is not unsightly, stranger,

at least, to a woman’s taste – and that’s why you’re in Thebes.

You’ve got long hair; you’re no wrestler,

it’s pouring over your cheeks, full of desire.

Your skin is white, from deliberate contrivance,

from no strokes of the sun, but instead from shade,

hunting for Aphrodite’s charms through your beauty.

First off, tell me from what people you’ve come.

DIONYSUS: This is no boast – it’s easy to say.

You’ve heard, you know where Tmolus is.

P: I know – it bends around the city of Sardis.

D: I’m from there – Lydia is my fatherland.

P: Why are you bringing these mysteries to Greece?

D: Dionysus, the son of Zeus, guided me.

P: Is there a “Zeus” there who creates new gods?

D: No, but the one that joined Semele in marriage here.

P: Did he compel you at night, or before your eyes?

D: I saw him as he saw me, and he showed me the rituals.

P: What form did these rites hold?

D: It is unspeakable for uninitiated mortals to know.

P: Does it offer an advantage for those who worship?

D: It’s not right for you to hear, but it is worthy to know.

P: You’ve dissembled so well that I want to know.

D: The god’s rituals hate the man who practices impiety.

P: You say that you saw the god clearly – what was he like?

D: However he wanted – I didn’t control it.

P: You diverted that well by saying nothing.

D: If you speak wise things to an idiot, you’ll seem foolish yourself.

P: As you led the god, did you come here first?

D: All the barbarian peoples celebrate choral dances.

P: Their minds are entirely inferior to Greeks.

D: Much wiser in this case, although their laws are different.

P: Do you celebrate the mysteries by day or by night?

D: Always at night. Darkness has a certain dignity.

P: This is treacherous and rotten towards the women.

D: Someone might also discover something shameful by day.

P: You deserve to be punished for your evil contrivances!

D: You as well, for foolishness and impiety towards the god.

P: This Bacchant is spirited, and not inexperienced in speaking!

D: Say what punishment should be endured. What terrible thing will you do to me?

P: First I’ll cut off your luxurious locks.

D: The hair is sacred. I grow it for the god.

P: Next, hand over the thyrsus in your hands.

D: Take it yourself! I carry it for Dionysus.

P: And we’ll guard you, yourself, in prison.

D: The divinity himself will free me, whenever I wish it.

P: You can call him only when standing among the Bacchae.

D: Since he is present nearby, he sees the things I suffer.

P: So where is he? He’s not visible to my eyes.

D: Right next to me. Since you are impious, you don’t see him.

P: Seize him! He’s slandering me and all of Thebes!

D: Word from the wise to the unwise – don’t chain me.

P: I say bind him – I have more authority than you.

D: You don’t know why you live, what you’re doing, or who you are.

P: I am Pentheus, son of Agave; my father is Echion.

D: Your name is fitting for being unfortunate.

PENTHEUS: Get going. Shut him in near the horse stables,

so he may look upon total darkness.

Dance there. As for the women you’ve been leading around

as your colleagues in wickedness, I’ll either sell them into slavery

or, once I’ve stopped them from the beat and crash of the drum,

I’ll enslave them for working at the looms.

DIONYSUS: I will go, for what is not to be I will not have to suffer.

But, fool, Dionysus, whom you day does not exist,

will come and exact a price for your outrages.

By unjustly imprisoning us, you also put him in chains.

(Exeunt)

Notes
Paphos is a city on the island of Cyprus
Piereia is a hilly region to the north of Mt. Olympus, a long distance north of Thebes.
The Graces are minor goddesses of festivities, charm, and nice things in general.
Dionysus' "wine-dark complexion" is most likely a reference to the epic poet Homer, in whose poems the sea is often described as "wine-dark", although perhaps for a very different reason.
Sardis is a city in Lydia in western Asia Minor.

The King's Hubris

The Bacchae, like many, if not a majority of texts from the ancient world, does not survive to the present day in its entirety. This has not been apparent to this point in the play, but some later sections have been mangled, and only chance will determine if the missing sections will be recovered. Our situation is reliant on the manuscript tradition - only two parallel editions of Euripides have been traced to the pre-medieval period: one only has the first half of the play, and the other has a badly damaged ending. For a more complete manuscript history of the play, see Dodds.

This section introduces a new character, Pentheus. His name means "grief" in Greek, which foreshadows his eventual fate. He exemplifies a variety of a common character trait in early Greek literature, which is the hubristic man. Hubris can be translated in a variety of ways (although it probably shouldn't): the most common, perhaps, to a modern audience would be "willful ignorance", where the force of a character's personality takes them in directions which they know will lead to their own destruction (see Oedipus Rex); the version we encounter in the Bacchae corresponds better to the legalistic definition of "illegal violence", as Pentheus seeks to use force not just against a man, but against a god, thus breaking some conception of divine law as opposed to human law. In Greek mythology in general, mortals who attempt to break the barrier between men and gods wind up in unfortunate situations. Note also that Pentheus, much like Oedipus, willfully ignores the advice given by Tiresias.

What is the source of Pentheus' anger towards Dionysus?

There are multiple elements to the antipathy he expresses. The first is that the women have abandoned their stations inside the homes of Thebes to take part in ritual celebration; this fits in well with typical Greek fears about allowing license to women. Pentheus is concerned not just with the displacement of women, but also about their sexual fidelity - that they're having adulterious sex in the forest - and their consumption of alcohol, which was frowned upon in the Greek household. This even applies to his older female relatives.

Pentheus also consistently insists on the falsehood of the mysterious stranger Dionysus. This is not necessarily unrealistic (later Greek historial literature shows that the country could be overrun by dubious holy men), but the conviction with which he pursues this point is excessive, especially in the absence of evidence. Dodds remarks that some scholars have seen inferences in this episode to legal and rhetorical themes, in which Pentheus is either a sophist or a bad speaker or both. Also, he seeks horrible punishments for a foreigner, a bizarre deformation of typical practice in a society that was very keen on hospitality.

The other, more tenuous possibility is that Pentheus fears a weakening of his own personal power in the city of Thebes. He has already lost control of the assumedly weakest portion of his populace (the women), and he refuses to undermine his power further by giving personal submission to the god. However, in Euripides' world, mortal power, even exercised with authority and might, cannot compete with the pitiless irrationality of the divine. Tiresias attempts to convince him so as he references the death of the hunter Actaeon - Actaeon, Pentheus' own cousin, was transformed into a deer and killed by his own dogs after seeing the goddess Artemis bathing nude in the forest - but his plea falls on deaf ears.

At this point in the play, both divine and mortal characters in opposition have announced their plans re: the coming of Dionysus and the Bacchae. After the next choral interlude, we will see what happens when the two come into contact.

215-369

(Enter Pentheus)

PENTHEUS: Having been on a journey, just returned to this land,

I’m hearing that some new evil has come upon the city

that the women, being in assembled Bacchic revelry,

have left our houses behind and are running around

the bushy mountains, paying honor to

this new god Dionysus, whoever he is, by dancing,

and they set up many cups of wine in the middle

of their bands, and at different times they crawl off

to solitary places to do service in the beds of men,

and although they seem to be Maenad priests of sacrifice,

they serve Aphrodite more so than Bacchus.

As for the ones I seized, right now civil servants

keep their bound hands under the jailhouse roof;

the ones that have left, I’ll hunt them out of the mountains,

Ino and Agave, she who bore me to Echion,

and the mother of Actaion, Autonoë, that is.

When I’ve gathered them in iron nets,

I’ll quickly put a stop to this evil Bacchic rite.

            They say that some foreigner came by,

a sorcerer, an enchanter from the land of Lydia,

who has yellow locks of sweet-smelling hair,

holding the dark graces of Aphrodite in his eyes,

and that he keeps company with young girls day and night

offering his mysteries of “euoe” to them.

If I caught him under this roof, I’d put a stop

to the crashing thyrsus and the shaking hair,

and I’d cut his head off of his body.

            This man says that he is the god Dionysus,

he says that he was once stitched up in Zeus' thigh

and was burned up by the fires of lightning along with

his mother, because she lied about a marriage to Zeus.

Isn’t this worthy of a terrible hanging, whoever

this stranger is, that he commits acts of violence?

            But this is some other marvel, that I see

the prophet Tiresias in a spotted fawnskin,

and my maternal grandfather, who’s very old,

doing the Bacchic dance with a wand? I’m disgusted,

father, looking upon your mindless old age.

Grandfather, won’t you shake off the ivy

and release the thyrsus from your hand?

            You convinced him of this, Tiresias.

By bringing a new god to men, do you want to

examine birds and earn wages from sacrifices once more?

If grey old age wasn’t protecting you, I’d place you

in chains in the middle of the other Bacchae,

for introducing insane rituals. For whenever

the joy of the grape-cluster is present at a womens’ feast,

I say there is no longer anything healthy about those rites.

CHORUS: Such impiety! Stranger, aren’t you ashamed of deriding the gods

and Cadmus, who sowed his offspring into the earth?

Child of Echion, why dishonor your people?

TIRESIAS: Whenever a wise man seizes upon

a good occasion for speech, it’s no challenge to speak well.

You have a quick tongue as if you were thoughtful,

but there is no thought in your words.

A man who has ability, and the ability to speak,

but has no wisdom, is a bad citizen indeed.

            As for this new god, whom you’re laughing at,

I cannot express how great his power will be

throughout the land of Greece. There are two, young man,

who are foremost among men. The goddess Demeter-

she is the earth, call her whichever name you want;

she nourishes mortals with dry sustenance.

When he arrived, the spawn of Semele introduced

its counterpart to mortals, the moist drink of the grape,

which stops the pains of mortal sufferings,

whenever they’re filled with the stream of the vine:

it gives them sleep and forgetfulness from the daily evils;

there is no other medicine for man’s labors.

He, being a god, is poured out for the other gods,

so that, through him, men experience what is good.

And you laugh at him, because he was sewn up inside

Zeus’ thigh? I will instruct you how this is for the best.

When Zeus snatched him away from the thunderbolt’s fire,

he carried the infant god up to Olympus, but

Hera wanted to wanted to throw him out of the heavens.

The divine Zeus contrived against such things.

Breaking off a part of the ether that surrounds

the earth, he produced and gave a hostage

[--- here a line has been lost --- ]

saving Dionysus from the quarrels of Hera. In time

mortals said that he’d been stitched into the thigh of Zeus,

and by changing the name, since as a god he had

served as a hostage for Hera, they wrote the story.

            The deity can see the future. For Bacchantry

and Maenadism possess much prophetic power.

Whenever the god comes to a body in full force,

he makes the maddened ones speak of what will be.

He lays claims to and holds some portion of Ares’ power;

For, when there’s an army in their gear and in formation,

fear scares them away before their grab their spears.

This is madness that comes from Dionysus.

Still, you will see him both upon the Delphine rocks,

bounding over the two-peaked plain, carrying pine torches,

and swaying and shaking the Bacchic branch,

powerful over Greece. Pay attention to me, Pentheus.

Do not boast that force holds power over mortals,

nor, if you have a thought, if it is a sick thought,

should you mistake that thought for wisdom. Accept the god

upon the earth, pour libations, dance, and crown your head!

            Dionysus does not force women to be chaste

as regards Aphrodite; you must look for that

in human nature. Also, in the Bacchic rites,

prudence itself is not corrupted.

            Don’t you see, you rejoice when many people crowd

around the gates, and the city extols the name of Pentheus.

I think he, also, delights in being honored.

Now I and Cadmus, whom you ridicule,

will wreathe ourselves with ivy and dance;

a gray-haired pair, but we must dance all the same.

I will not fight against the gods or be persuaded by your words.

For you are mad most painfully, in that drugs will not

provide you a cure, even though they have caused your illness.

CHORUS: O elder, you aren’t dishonoring Apollo by your words –

you are prudent in honoring Bromios, a powerful god.

CADMUS: My child, Tiresias gave you good advice.

Dwell among us – don’t go outside the laws!

For now you’re fluttering about and aren’t using your wits.

If this one isn’t a god, like you’re saying,

speak to him like he is one and pretend well

that he is, so it seems like Semele gave birth to a god,

and honor might be paid to you and your people.

            Do you see the wretched fate of Actaeon,

who was torn apart in the meadows by

the flesh-eating dogs he himself raised, he who

boasted that he was better than Artemis at hunting?

Don’t make yourself suffer! Now crown your head

with ivy! Come with us and pay honor to the god!

PENTHEUS: Don’t hold out your hand to go and play Bacchant,

don’t rub your foolishness off on me!

I’m pursuing justice against this teacher

of mindlessness. Someone, go as fast as you can,

go to the seat where he takes the auguries,

overturn it with crowbars, knock it over backwards,

throw the garlands to the winds and the stormblasts!

If I do this, I’ll really hurt him then.

            Some of you – go up to the city, track down

this stranger who looks like a woman, the one that brought in

this new illness for women and who degrades our beds.

Anyway, get him, then carry him here in chains,

so he might be sentenced to death by stoning

and die – he’ll have a bad Theban revelry then!

TIRESIAS: Cruel man, you don’t know what you’re saying.

You’re insane now, and even before, you were out of your mind.

Let’s go, Cadmus, and pray that the god

will do nothing terrible to him, even though

he’s gone wild, and nothing to the city as well.

But now, follow me with your ivy staff,

try and guide my body straight; I’ll do the same for you.

It’s shameful for two old men to fall down.

Come what may, we must serve Dionysus son of Zeus.

Pentheus! I hope he doesn’t bring grief to your house,

Cadmus. I’m not speaking as a prophet now, just

about what’ll happen. A fool, he speaks foolish things.

(Exeunt)

Notes:

Ino (EE-noh), Agave, and Autonoë (auto-no-way) are the daughters of Cadmus. Agave is Pentheus' mother.

They "joy of the grape-cluster" is one of the play's many descriptions of wine.

Demeter is the goddess of agriculture, most often associated with the growing cycle of grain, and to some degree human fertility as well.

Ares is the god of war, a relatively minor deity among the Olympians.

The Delphine rocks refers to Delphi, the site of the most famous oracle of Apollo in the Greek world, where many people went to receive prophecies.

The "two-peaked plain" is probably the plateau of Livadi near Delphi.

Auguries refers to augury - the process of telling the future by plotting the movement of birds through the sky.

Aphrodite is the relatively minor Olympian goddess of sex.

Apollo is the god of wisdom, music, and healing, among various other functions.

Two Old Men

At this point in the play we have our first onstage conversation, and also the first instance of more than one actor onstage; Tiresias and Cadmus, along with Pentheus, who will arrive midway through the scene, will carry on together until the next chorus at Line 370.

This scene, a conversation between two geriatric characters about their entrance into the Dionysiac worship and revelry, has been a subject of academic debate for well over a century. The fundamental issue is to what degree this episode should be interpreted as a comic scene, and if so, to what extent.

Our characters, for this first portion, are relatively important figures in the world of Greek mythology. Cadmus is the founder of Thebes, who emigrated from Phoenicia (modern Syria and Lebanon) and supposedly created some of the original citizens of Thebes by sowing a dragon's teeth into the earth. At this point, he has abdicated his power to his grandson Pentheus, the current king of Thebes. Tiresias is a famous, blind prophet probably best known in modern times for his appearances in the Oedipus cycle. Like many prophets in mythology, he continually gives good advice which is often ignored.
When this scene begins (or at least as it progresses), the characters are dressed in Dionysiac garb: fawnskin garment, crown of leaves, and thyrsus. Whether or not their costume is meant to be amusing in and of itself is unclear: Dodds believes it is not, although many scholars would disagree with him. As the old men are determined to go off and dance with the Bacchic revelers, they may provide additional humor with pathetic attempts to be nimble and energetic. However, it could be argued that the divine power of Dionysus has rejuvenated them and given them the ability to do so; the characters say as much.

Another interesting question is to what degree Cadmus and Tiresias are willing participants in the Bacchic ritual. Their commentary is laced with a subtle pragmatism: when Tiresias advises what is necessary to placate the god, Cadmus accepts without opposition. The fear of the divine, the unknown, is enough to motivate them both to enter into what seems like a crazy escapade. Dodds writes that they seem to not be motivated by faith (90); however, Greco-Roman religion was mostly transactional (I know I'm oversimplifying this), and "faith" per se was not as important as correct performance of ritual, which the two old men are tremendously concerned about.

170-214
(Enter Tiresias)

TIRESIAS: Who’s at the gates? Call Cadmus from the house,

the son of Agenor who, after he left the city of Sidon

behind, built towers around the city of Thebes.

Somebody, go and let him know that Tiresias

is looking for him. He knows why I’ve come,

since, even though I’m old and he’s older, we agreed

to tie together thyrsoi and wear the hides of fawns

and to crown our heads with shoots of ivy.

(Enter Cadmus)

CADMUS: O, my dear Tiresias! When I listened and heard your voice,

the wise tongue of a wise man, I was inside the house.

I’m ready and I’m coming, wearing a god’s attire.

Dionysus – who is my daughter’s son, and who

revealed himself as a god to mortals- we have

to augment his great power as much as we can.

Where should we be dancing, where should we

set down our feet and shake our gray heads?

You, Tiresias, lead me forth, an old man

leading an old man. You’re wise. I hope I’ll

never tire of striking the earth with my thyrsus

all day and night. I’ve gladly forgotten that I’m old.

TIRESIAS: You’re feeling the same thing as me.

For I feel young and I’m going to try out the dances.

C: Shall we use a carriage to drive to the mountain?

T: But the god wouldn’t have the same honor.

C: Should I, even though we’re old, lead you there like a student?

T: The god will lead us there effortlessly.

C: Will we alone from the city dance for Bacchus?

T: We alone are in our right minds; the others are thinking poorly.

C: The delay is great; still, hold my hand.

T: Come, tie and bind our hands together.

C: Being born mortal, I don’t think ill of the gods.

T: We don’t make fancy arguments with the gods.

What was handed down from our fathers, which is as old as

time itself – no argument will overthrow these things,

not even if our minds discover something in the heights of cleverness.

Will someone say that I am dishonoring old age,

being about to dance and putting a wreath on my head?

If there must be the dance, the god does not distinguish

between those that are young and those that are old,

but he wants to take a common honor from everyone,

and wants to be exalted, making no distinctions.

C: Since you can’t see the light, Tiresias,

I’ll explain to you in words what I see. Pentheus,

the son of Echion, whom I gave rule over this land to,

is coming towards the palace, in haste,

as if he were terrified. What news will he tell us?

Notes:
Agenor is a Phoenician king, father of Cadmus and also of Europa, who was famously raped by Zeus (in both senses) in the form of a bull.
Sidon is a city in Phoenicia.
Echion is the son-in-law of Cadmus, husband of Agave, and father of Pentheus.