Euripides, Nietzsche and the Decline of Tragedy
Jim Safley

Fifth century Greece was the age of the great tragedians. The three playwrights, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, wrote during this time, all the while establishing and developing the new theatre of tragedy. The first tragedian, Aeschylus, refined primitive drama and became the archetype for the subsequent playwrights. Sophocles further improved upon his predecessor, achieving a balanced use of the elements of tragedy. The last great tragic writer, Euripides, focused less on the crudities of Aeschylean drama and more on systematic and analytical tragedy.

Euripides’ schism from archetypal tragedy has been a matter of academic debate. Critics, such as Friedrich Nietzsche, go as far as to say that Euripides caused the decline of ancient Greek tragedy, which occurred in the early fourth century. This essay will attempt to explain in what way Euripides fell from the “pure” tragedy of Aeschylus and offered a more philosophical outlook on drama. Nietzsche’s nineteenth century treatise, The Birth of Tragedy, will be used to aid in my examination of the decline of tragedy. Moreover. I will focus on the Euripides’ last play, the Bacchae, which, ironically, is also his most Aeschylean work.

BIOGRAPHY, INTELLECTUAL ENVIRONMENT, AND CRITICISM

Euripides was most likely born in 485 BCE to people of good position. Living in Salamis, Phlya, and Syracuse, he had the opportunity to associate with many notable individuals, including Prodicus, Archelaus, and Protagoras. Probably his biggest influence was the philosopher Socrates, who is said to have been a great admirer of his tragedies. Other than his priesthood at Phlya and his duties as a soldier, Euripides spent much of his time studying and writing in retirement. He was not known for his affability, which is probably why he was later criticized by the comic poets.

Euripides started writing tragedies professionally in 455, when he placed third in a tragic contest. Dramatic contests began at Athens in the early fifth century; they formed a part of the Great Dionysia, the spring festival of Dionysus Eleuthereus. Three poets competed against each other, each producing three tragedies and one satire, and a winner was chosen by judges. In his fifty years of producing plays Euripides earned only five victories – his contemporaries, Aeschylus and Sophocles, won most of the contests. At first Euripides’ plays were ill received by Athenians, but for generations after his death in 406 his works were highly praised.

During the period in which Euripides composed his plays, several movements of thought were developing in Greece. Theories advanced e.g. by Protagoras ascribed the causes of natural phenomena to scientific reasons rather than divine intervention. Moreover, the cruelties and excesses of the Peloponnesian War spawned a skeptical outlook on the existence of gods. Greatly affected by these new, unconventional thoughts, Euripides, unlike Aeschylus and Sophocles, ascertained that traditional legends and myths implied that gods were less moral than good men. These feelings were reflected in his tragedies. While he incorporated gods in his plays, they usually took the form as the immoral, or amoral, antagonist. His tragedies were generally human dramas, focusing on the human mind and emotions. His first interest, it seems, was the reaction of the human character to certain horrible and pitiful circumstances, usually instigated by the gods.1

His irreverence toward the gods and unorthodox style of writing riled many critics. The great philosopher Aristotle described Euripides as the most tragic of the three master tragedians, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. This statement, however, was derived not entirely from adulation of the poet, but from that most of Euripides’ plays ended unhappily. (Many earlier tragedies concluded with a resolution of some sort.) There was, according to Aristotle, “faulty management in other respects” concerning the poet’s mismanagement of plot and scene.2 Euripides introduced into his plays inconsistent transitions and unstructured plot development, both of which were innovative yet eccentric novelties of drama during the fifth century BCE – and distasteful to critics of later periods.

Aristotle’s temperate critique of Euripides as playwright reflects an even larger number of brash criticisms, ancient and modern. The philosopher Plato and comedy playwright Aristophanes, for example, blamed him for debasing tragedy by presenting his heroes in rags (thus denying them the customary dignity of heroes). Others argued that he focused too much on emotional triviality, giving unnecessary details that distorted true human nature.3

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY

In 1872 Friedrich Nietzsche, the noted philosopher and nihilist, composed a compelling yet enigmatic criticism of Euripides, titled The Birth of Tragedy. The treatise advances the controversial academic argument about the origin and decline of ancient Greek tragedy. The plays of Euripides, he believed, represented the decline of tragedy, which saw its zenith in early to mid fifth century with Aeschylus and Sophocles.

To elucidate his argument Nietzsche presents two competing but complimentary impulses in the Greek psyche: the Apollonian and the Dionysian. Apollo, the god of light, dream and prophecy, personified the cultural aspects of rational knowledge and moderation; Dionysus, the god of intoxication, personified the cultural aspects of mysticism and excess. The Apollonian, therefore, is associated with the distinct moral individual, while the Dionysian is associated with man’s communal, and chaotic, relationship with nature. These impulses are further clarified by distinguishing that which is logical and lawful (nomos) with that which is illogical and beyond human control (physis).

In Nietzsche’s belief, the early fifth century tragedians, Aeschylus and Sophocles, sufficiently reconciled the Apollonian and Dionysian psyche within their plays. This duality represented the fusion of the two major currents in Greek poetry: the Apollonian element of Greek tragedy was responsible for advancing serenity and rational imagery, as reflected in the epics of Homer, while the Dionysian element of Greek tragedy offered a darker insight into the irrational and unpredictable nature of human kind, as reflected in the poems by Archilochus and Pindar.4

After praising the two early tragedians for accurately representing Greek culture – inasmuch as reconciling the two basic elements of that culture – Nietzsche continues his criticism of Euripides, the last of the great playwrights. He argues that Euripides failed to balance the Apollonian and Dionysian psyche within his plays: “To excise that original and all powerful Dionysian element from tragedy and to rebuild tragedy purely on the basis of an un-Dionysian [Apollonian] art, morality, and world-view – that is the Euripidean tendency.”5 By disregarding the dark and irrational nature (physis) of the Greek psyche, and focusing almost exclusively on the rational and the visible (nomos), Euripides had, in Nietzsche’s view, occasioned the decline of Greek tragedy.

There is a correlation between Nietzsche’s criticism and the movements of thought that were developing in ancient Greece during Euripides’ time. The drift toward a more secular, and scientific, perspective of life complimented the Apollonian psyche because of its emphasis on rational knowledge. Conversely the Dionysian psyche, which represented mysticism and intrigue, gradually eroded with the rise of philosophical inquiry, which chiefly originated from the teachings of Socrates. So Euripides, who adhered to the new movements of thought, naturally adopted the Apollonian psyche and reflected it within his plays.

Nevertheless, Nietzsche is careful not to place the blame of the decline of tragedy solely on Euripides. Indeed, it was Socrates, an admirer and acquaintance of the poet, who “talked through” him. The famous Socratic aphorism “knowledge is virtue” underscored the divergence of the Apollonian and the Dionysian within ancient Greek culture. Now that rational knowledge (the Apollonian) equated to moral excellence, the dark and chaotic characteristics of the Dionysian were deemed unfavorable. Therefore, those who found the teachings of Socrates acceptable naturally would abandon the irrational aspects of life and adopt a more rationalistic mindset. Euripides was heavily influenced by this “Socratic tendency”; and, according to Nietzsche, that tendency negated the Dionysian within his works, and was that which ultimately conquered Aeschylean and Sophoclean tragedy.6

EURIPIDES, THE BACCHAE

Because the Bacchae was Euripides’ last, and, ironically, most Dionysian, tragedy, its plot deserves some explaining. The god Dionysus, disguised as an Asian cult leader, has returned to the city of his birth, Thebes, and tells of his intention to establish a cult there. He is enraged by his mother’s three sisters’ (Agave, Autonoe, and Ino) disbelief in his divine birth, and drives the women of Thebes into frenzy and sends them to Mt. Cithaeron where they are transformed into maenads (also called Bacchae). (Maenads were female followers of Dionysus characterized by their ecstatic and animalistic nature.)

King Pentheus, the son of Agave, has a heated discussion with his grandfather Cadmus and the blind old prophet Tiresias, whom have both succumbed to the magical influence of Dionysus. Pentheus scolds the two old men for accepting the newcomer’s false religion, and orders the arrest of the Asian stranger. Still not revealing his true nature, the imprisoned Dionysus performs several miracles to demonstrate his power. A messenger then recounts to Pentheus the gruesome actions of the maenads on Mt. Cithaeron, including the rending of beasts and the ecstatic, sexual dancing and singing.

Now under the intoxicating spell of Dionysus, Pentheus adorns himself with women’s clothing and beholds several visions: he sees two suns, two cities, and the stranger as a horned bull. Dionysus then suggests that he should spy on his mother and the maenads performing the Dionysiac rites. Pentheus, intrigued and curious, agrees and follows the stranger to Mt. Cithaeron. Once there, the king climes a tree to better see the maenads. Having been incited by Dionysus, the frenzied women uproot the tree and Agave tears Pentheus apart. Thinking she has killed a lion, she then impales her son’s head on a staff and triumphantly returns to Thebes with her trophy.

Once at the city Agave invites Cadmus and all of Thebes to feast on the “lion” she had killed. Cadmus, who had gathered the mangled pieces of Pentheus, coaxes the still ecstatic Agave out of her spell as she unknowingly holds her son’s head cradled in her arms. She gradually regains her senses and recognizes her son’s head. While Cadmus and Agave lament the death of Pentheus, an angry Dionysus, now in god form, appears on the palace roof and orders Cadmus and Agave into exile. He then formally establishes his cult in Thebes.

Because the Bacchae was the only play by Euripides that involved the god Dionysus, it is no wonder that it is his most Dionysian play. From its beginning the play takes on a dark and unreal character. Without provocation Dionysus enters the city and forcibly initiates the Theban women into his cult. Pentheus imprisons the Asian stranger only to be possessed by supernatural illusions. Dionysus then allows the afflicted Pentheus to be torn apart by his own mother. The conclusion brings on feelings of intense dread, with the faultless Cadmus and pitiful Agave expelled from the city.

On account of the oppressive severity of its ending, the Bacchae truly follows the quality of an “absolute tragedy.” Indeed, it has been remarked that “the termination of this play presses toward total despair, toward annihilating terror far transgressing any plausible moral or compensatory motives.”7 Dionysus has no evident reason for punishing Cadmus, for he even defended the cult of Dionysus in the face of the truculent Pentheus. Although Agave did warrant some punishment – because of her hubris in not recognizing Dionysus’ divine birth – the induced killing of her son and exile from Thebes seems extreme.

The oppressive nature of Dionysus’ punishments is reconciled by the divine qualities of the god. As the god of intoxication, Dionysus is characterized by his irrational and excessive actions, not in any way bound by the logic and lawfulness of nomos; the punishments are, therefore, a product of the illogic and disorder of physis. Following the same line, Nietzsche was correct in assuming that the Bacchae was a “glorification” of the Dionysian – not that Euripides commended Dionysus’ brutal actions, but that he finally acknowledged the darker and more unpredictable Greek psyche which he had neglected all his life.

CONCLUSION

Nietzsche points out that Euripides’ last tragedy, Bacchae, was also his only Dionysiac play. In fact, the play, which was produced posthumously, was Euripides’ most Dionysian endeavor, replete with the excesses and dark mysticism of the god of intoxication. “With heroic strength [Euripides] resisted Dionysus throughout a long life – in order finally to conclude his career with a glorification of his opponent and a suicide, like someone who throws himself from a tower to escape the horrific dizziness of unbearable vertigo.”8 Only in his last play, Euripides seemed to recognize the importance of the Dionysian in Greek tragedy. But the damage was already dealt, and tragedy would never survive in its original form.

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1 Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd ed., s.v. “Euripides.”

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, trans. and with an introduction by Douglas Smith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), chp. 5-6.

5 Ibid., 68.

6 Ibid., 69.

7 George Steiner, “Tragedy, Pure and Simple,” in Tragedy and the Tragic, ed. M. S. Silk (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 539.

8 Nietzsche, 68.