Bacantes

by Euripides, Vasileios Balaskas (contributor), Carlos García Gual (translator)

One of the greatest of all Greek tragedies - savage, comic and intensely lyrical - The Bacchae powerfully dramatises the conflict between the emotional and rational sides of the human psyche. The magnetic young Dionysus - icon, hedonist, god - returns home with his cult of female followers to exact his revenge, unleashing the full force of female sexuality on the city.

David Greig's version of The Bacchae premiered at the King's Theatre, Edinburgh, in August 2007 in a co-production between the Edinburgh International Festival and the National Theatre of Scotland.

Genres: Classics, Plays, Drama, Mythology, Fiction, Theatre, Poetry

112 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 406

About the author

Euripides (Greek: Ευριπίδης) (ca. 480 BC–406 BC) was a tragedian of classical Athens. Along with Aeschylus and Sophocles, he is one of the three ancient Greek tragedians for whom any plays have survived in full. Some ancient scholars attributed ninety-five plays to him, but the Suda says it was ninety-two at most. Of these, eighteen or nineteen have survived more or less complete (Rhesus is suspect). There are many fragments (some substantial) of most of his other plays. More of his plays have survived intact than those of Aeschylus and Sophocles together, partly because his popularity grew as theirs declined—he became, in the Hellenistic Age, a cornerstone of ancient literary education, along with Homer, Demosthenes, and Menander.
Euripides is identified with theatrical innovations that have profoundly influenced drama down to modern times, especially in the representation of traditional, mythical heroes as ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. This new approach led him to pioneer developments that later writers adapted to comedy, some of which are characteristic of romance. He also became "the most tragic of poets", focusing on the inner lives and motives of his characters in a way previously unknown. He was "the creator of ... that cage which is the theatre of William Shakespeare's Othello, Jean Racine's Phèdre, of Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg," in which "imprisoned men and women destroy each other by the intensity of their loves and hates". But he was also the literary ancestor of comic dramatists as diverse as Menander and George Bernard Shaw.
His contemporaries associated him with Socrates as a leader of a decadent intellectualism. Both were frequently lampooned by comic poets such as Aristophanes. Socrates was eventually put on trial and executed as a corrupting influence. Ancient biographies hold that Euripides chose a voluntary exile in old age, dying in Macedonia, but recent scholarship casts doubt on these sources.

Reviews

[Count No Count · Rating 4 out of 5]

This, dear friends, is a chilling reminder of why I seldom attend parties.

[Persephone's Pomegranate · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have quite an extensive list of fictional Greek mythology husbands. It includes Hades, Helios, Cupid, and Achilles, just to name a few. One particular 'guy' surpasses almost all of them.

He enjoys wine, celebrations, strolls along the shore, leopards, and dispatching his female followers to cause chaos in cities that have offended him.

He goes by many names - Dionysus, Bacchus, and even the patron saint of frat boys, rock stars, and married people.

The god of wine, festivity, fertility, and theatre rarely seeks revenge, but when he decides to, he does so in a truly stylish manner.

I hear about disgusting things going on, here in the city - women leaving home to go to silly Bacchic rituals, cavorting there in mountain shadows, with dances honouring some upstart god, this Dionysus, whoever he may be.

SPOILERS:

I thought about which book to revisit, Bacchus or Medea. The choice was easy. There's crazy, and there's my husband left me, so I murdered our children crazy.

Medea:




I prefer to indulge in stories about a hot deity struggling with alcoholism and leading an all-female cult that negatively impacts others JUST BECAUSE.

I have many friends who aren't familiar with Greek mythology, so before diving into the story, let me provide you with a quick background on Dionysus.

Dionysus was born to Semele, a mortal, and Zeus, the ruler of the gods. Semele was seduced by Zeus and ended up pregnant. Hera, Zeus' wife, disguised herself as an elderly woman to gain Semele's trust. Through manipulation, Hera convinced Semele to ask Zeus for a wish. Zeus, bound by his oath on the River Styx, had to comply. Semele's wish was to see Zeus in his full divine form. Despite his shock and sadness, Zeus had to reveal himself. It is essential to honor any commitment made on the River Styx. When a mortal lays eyes on a god in their full splendor, the result is fatal, and Semele was consumed by flames.

Zeus rescued the unborn baby by stitching him inside his thigh (don't ask how; I'm not a doctor). If you find that insane, you better dig into the origins of Athena, the half-sister of Dionysus. Don't worry about Semele - when Dionysus reached adulthood, he ventured into the Underworld and brought her to Mount Olympus. It seems like Hades took the day off or something.

Let's dive into the book now.

Dionysus was chilling, minding his own business:



Suddenly, some of the citizens of Thebes, including his three aunts, began spreading rumors about his mother. They accused Semele of being promiscuous and getting pregnant by a mere mortal. They refused to accept that Dionysus was Zeus' son. Enraged, Dionysus vowed to seek justice for his mother and teach a lesson to those who dared to speak badly of her.

You messed up by angering not just any god but one of the twelve Olympians. Well done, Thebes.

'Tis a majestic thing, the darkness.

Dionysus causes the women of the town to go insane, even his aunts, and guides them to the mountains to participate in 'sacred' rituals. By 'sacred,' I mean some weird shit went down.

That's what you get for talking smack about a deity's mother.



He wants to avenge his mother, prove his divinity to all, and establish a cult. Sounds like a bulletproof plan to me.

Upon discovering the existence of the Dionysus cult, Pentheus, the king of Thebes (and the son of Semele's sister Agave), becomes furious. He prohibits the worship of Dionysus and vows to hunt down and eliminate the enigmatic stranger responsible for seducing his subjects (who is, in fact, Dionysus in disguise).

Dammit, Pentheus, if people want to join a cult, let them! What else is there to do in ancient Greece?

The stranger (Dionysus) is captured and confined. Utilizing his godly abilities, he frees himself and wreaks havoc on his surroundings. Meanwhile, the women of the town, now identifying as the Bacchae, descend into madness. They begin assaulting the villagers. I haven't questioned anything so far, so why begin now? Do what needs to be done, ladies.

Dionysus, in disguise, successfully convinces Pentheus to refrain from resorting to violence against the women. He manipulates and distorts Pentheus' mind. He leads him out of the security of his palace. Pentheus begins to act strangely. I'm going to climb a tree kind of crazy. Dionysus reveals his true identity, and the Bacchae show up to begin killing Pentheus (his mother, Agave, is among the women).

Pentheus loses his head. Literally. Agave returns to the town, holding her son's decapitated head. She proudly presents it to her father, the former king of Thebes. Shock and horror fill his face as he witnesses the gruesome sight. As Agave's madness gradually subsides, she starts to comprehend the magnitude of her actions. She and her sisters are forced into exile. Her parents transform into serpents. Dionysus and his followers embark on their mission to destroy another city. What else is there to do in ancient Greece?

Exclusive clip from Semele, chilling in the afterlife, watching her sister Agave kill her son Pentheus:



I'm sure most of you are familiar with the tale of Theseus leaving Ariadne on a deserted island only to be saved by Dionysus, who later became her husband. I'm currently on a quest to discover a deserted island, intentionally lose my way, and patiently await the arrival of a hot deity who will rescue me.

P.S. There are several translations of this book. Choose wisely.


Playlist:

Living Colour - Cult of Personality
MGMT - Little Dark Age
Billie Eilish - You Should See Me in a Crown
Lana Del Rey - Gods and Monsters
David Kushner - Daylight
The Chainsmokers - Sick Boy
Echos - Saints
Post Malone ft. 21 Savage - Rockstar

[Sean Barrs · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dionysus is my favourite ancient Greek god. Why? Because he is the coolest, simple as.

“He is life's liberating force.
He is release of limbs and communion through dance.
He is laughter, and music in flutes.
He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep!"


- The Young Bacchus by Caravaggio, 1595.

Not only is he the god of theatre (a huge passion of mine) but he is also the god of wine, festivals, ecstasy and madness. Every set of self-respecting Gods needs one like him on the team. In a way he represents excess, the excess of human emotion and passion. Every so often we all need a good binge of some sort and any god that denies our needs is a very poor god. Dionysus gets it. He understands.

And he is capable of great good and filling the needs of his subjects, but his whims can easily slip into darkness. In this play he presents himself in a clam collective manner; he does not really represent the aspects of human nature he is god of: he merely facilitates them. He gives man the opportunity to go too far; it’s up to him if he takes it and falls into complete intoxication. And this bespeaks his enthralling power. He is not controlling and does not tamper with free-will, if his subjects worship him to heavily then it is of their own accord.

The Dionysian cult Euripides creates here is one completely necessary in the society of Ancient Greece. He is the solution for the ongoing battle between freedom and restraint. He suggests that the irrational and the indulgent are both necessary for society to function and develop. Any society that denies these things will fall apart in misery. So Dionysus is an important force, but one that should be taken is small measures.

So this is a good play, and it’s completely character driven and loaded with this message (supposedly as a learning tool.) It’s real fun to read.

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 4 out of 5]

If I’ve learned one thing from Greek myths it is this: give in to hubris and the gods will be pissed. Do not fuck with these gods or they will fuck you up. Sisyphus wasn’t hospitable and hubris’d himself into being a perfect working class metaphor about going to work and forever rolling a boulder getting nowhere, don’t say you are superior at child birthing than Leto, don’t assume you are as lovely as Aphrodite, don’t even let your mom say you are as lovely as Aphrodite, and definitely do not be better at tapestry making than Athene or she will beat your ass until you have no choice but to hang yourself. Fucked up, I know, but like you can’t outsmart the oracle at Delphi so don’t even try. Trust me. Commissioned by the Almeida Theater in London, Anne Carson brushed the dust off Euripides’s classic play and offered a blissfully brilliant retranslation of Bakkhai—which was heaped in praise for reading ‘simultaneously ancient and contemporary’—that once again shows that hubris is a horrid way to make friends with the gods. And not just any god because Bakkhai is the tale of King Pentheus of Thebes insulting none other than Dionysus, you know, the dude who brings the party everywhere he goes toting about wine and frivolity. I believe that the friends with wine are the friends you want around, and so does the Herdsman here:

‘Why, without wine we’ve no freedom from pain.
Without wine there’s no sex.
Without sex
Life isn’t worth living.’

You don’t wanna end up like Arachne do ya? But Pentheus would rather drink a bottle of his own folly it seems and so Carson offers us a front row seat to the Bacchanalia festival of gods in disguise, wild women, madness on the mountains, and hubris leading to a good old fashion humbling.

Ben Wishaw (left) as Dionysos, Bertie Carvel (right) as Pentheus on stage at the Almeida Theater in 2015

Fun fact, when this play was first performed in 405BC (directed by Euripides’ son after his death) it won first prize in the City Dionysia festival competition. Now I’m not gonna say it feels rigged that the City Dionysia paid tribute to the Dionysus play talking about how you better respect Dionysus or else because it IS actually an amazing play, but still seems sus.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Anne Carson is SO cool. A classicist who has given us fresh and fantastic translations of Sappho, playful “retranslations” that are queer retellings of greek myths like The Autobiography of Red, poetry that uses physical space as a medium as much as the words within it…Carson has inexhaustible creativity and always arrives with something unique, unexpected, and while you often initially think “what the actual hell is this?” you end by thinking “wow, that was amazing and possibly way over my head, thank you may I please have another.” So when I heard Carson retranslated one of the only Greek plays I actually read before I HAD to check it out. It’s fantastic. Carson retains a sense of the ancients yet it feels very modern at the same time. The choral odes appear weaving and winding across the page like modern poetic form that practically provides its own percussive beat, the language is sharp and accessible, the humor is highlighted, the themes feel relevant even after all these centuries, and it makes for a great read. Always one for fun, Carson’s introduction to the work is written as a long poem as well. It’s a great way to revitalize the play considered Euripides’ masterpiece.

‘Learn what kind of god I am!’

Does anything good ever happen in Thebes because it feels like just the mention of the city lets you know some shit is about to go down and end poorly for some mortals. Especially when Dionysus just wants to party and everyone wants to be weird party-poopin prudes (looking at you Pentheus) and deny Di his divinity and festivities. Disguised as a mortal and driving women into “madness” and celebratory state (...so he just spiked the punch with MDMA right?) he absconds to the mountains with his party people. King Prude and Di get into some debates over the validity of the Bacchanalia but what really makes this story is that Dionysus plans to outwit Pentheus don’t take a path of logic and reasoning but of deception and manipulating him right into his own demise. It’s pretty wild, everyone is more or less on some party drugs and things turn violent. The ending of this story is wild and I kind of love how petty Dionysus is, not gonna lie.

But I just kind of dig Dionysus here. He is, as Carson says in her poem intro, ‘your first sip of wine / from a really good bottle. / Opening page // of a crime novel,’ and is described as the 'swoony type' with ‘bedroom eyes’ and ‘cheeks like wine’ by Petheus. SO, Pentheus, what you are saying he is hot and down to clown but you…don’t like this guy? You had it coming. There is also this great sense of duality in the story, particularly with our reverent reveller who embodies both logic and passion. The aspect of his trickery feels quite relevant to our modern day too, where a charismatic leader can build a cult and get people to act against their own interests. They might even vote for him because a passionate lie is often more enticing than a harsh truth or, as Kadmos says, ‘truth is an unbearable thing. And it’s timing is bad.’

While I cannot read the original I can’t really say much about Carson’s translation per say, but having read another translation I do find this to feel really fluid and accessible. Carson’s theories on translation have always intrigued me. In her essay Nay Rather, Carson discusses how a ‘metaphysical silence’ occurs when a word is unable to translate directly into a different language.

‘Metaphysical silence happens inside words themselves. And its intentions are harder to define. Every translator knows the point where one language cannot be rendered into another.’

Carson cannot be stopped, even by metaphysical silences, and she uses them to her benefit to keep the text in a context of its ancient times and language while still rendering it fresh and modern. For instance, Carson never translates the term ‘daimon,’ having it always appear in italics to denote the untranslated (and untranslatable) state. Dionysus even gets a chance to explain the choice:

‘I am something supernatural-
Not exactly god, ghost, spirit, angel, principle or element-
There is no term for it in English.
In Greek they say daimon–
Can we just use that?’

Carson is always clever. A translator could, for instance, go with demon, yet it would strip the word of the nuances that Carson hopes to imply. And that nuance is what keeps this feeling sharp.

With this new translation, Carson brings Bakkhai to life and it is a joy to read. This is a really fun story with a pretty bonkers conclusion and I would love to see it performed. But I also love how Carson can make the idea of getting excited for new translations of old Greek plays such a fun event. She’s so cool.

4/5

[Roy Lotz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of Greek tragedy. But when I attempt reviews, my tongue turns to ashes in my mouth. It’s not that they’re too old (I’ve reviewed older books), nor because they’re so foundational (I’ve reviewed equally fundamental books). It’s because I strongly suspect that I just don’t get it. It strikes me that the Greek tragedians were trying to accomplish something essentially different from what I’ve come to expect from literature.

Greek tragedy has not even the slightest element of suspense. When you read one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, you know that it will end badly for the protagonist (and at least a few other people)—otherwise it wouldn’t be a tragedy. But there always seems to be a glimmer of hope, a chance that it could’ve turned out differently. The tragic outcome hinges on the character of the tragic hero; the final result is tragic because of that tantalizing “what if?” which lingers in the air as the curtain falls.

But in the plays of the Greek tragedians, the story is a fait accompli. Everything happens because of the will of the gods, or the mysterious hand of fate. Every character inexorably fulfills their destiny. The only thing they can do, it seems, is to sing about how awful their situation is. Thus we get line after line of the chorus—interrupting the action like a song in a musical, telling the audience what they already know in sing-song verse.

This isn't the fault of the playwrights. Because hardly anybody can read Ancient Greek nowadays, we’re forced to read the plays in translation; and poetry is always sub par in translation. Also, these chorus interludes actually did have music when they were performed; so it’s a bit unfair to judge them merely as poetry. (Imagine if archaeologists dug up a book of Beatles lyrics 2,000 years from now. They would have no idea why the Beatles were such a hit.)

Nietzsche thought this aspect of Greek tragedy was the root of its power. In his first published work, The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche spills much ink in describing his love for the unbridled spirit of life in the music of the Greek tragic chorus. For Nietzsche, the very fact that the music wasn’t ‘realistic’—that it didn’t attempt to portray the facts of life—is what gave it its tremendous power. This is why Nietzsche thought that Euripides was decadent.

Euripides is distinguished from Aeschylus and Sophocles precisely for his realism. His plays actually do have that element of unpredictability we’ve come to expect from modern tragedy. We don’t feel that the action is foreordained; that the people are merely acting out the decree of Fate. When his characters give monologues, the poetry doesn’t seem stylized or wooden—like old song-lyrics do. Rather, Euripides seeks to portray the psychology of his protagonists as if they were real people; the final result is more like reading someone's thoughts than reading sing-song poetry.

This is not to say that he didn’t include mythological or fantastic elements. Take this play. For a completely illogical reason, the god Dionysus decides to wreak havoc in Thebes. He doesn’t do it for the sake of justice; nor to accomplish some goal. He does it, more or less, on a whim. This is what makes the action of the play so shocking. It’s as if the reader has been dropped in via helicopter down on some battlefield, and is forced to watch the senseless violence.

Nietzsche admired, almost worshiped, the Dionysian impulse—the mad impulse to riot, to dance, to sing, to live. He found in the character of Dionysus the solution to everything wrong with Christian morality and the scientific mentality. Nietzsche believed that the drive to divide up the world into good and evil, and to value the literal truth above figurative myth, destroys man’s ability to reach his highest potential. But Euripides sees something much darker and devious in the character of Dionysus. Euripides sees that, once morality and truth are abandoned, one is left only with naked power. And naked power can be used just as easily for wanton destruction as for beneficent creation.

So it’s hard for me to agree with Nietzsche and consider Euripides as a decadent playwright. Every one of his plays I’ve so far read has been a dramatic masterpiece; and when you think about them, there’s usually an intriguing lesson to be learned, a thought to be pondered. Aeschylus and Sophocles remain partially veiled in translation; their music, lost to time. But now, I can at least say I’ve found one Greek playwright I ‘get’.

[Luís · Rating 5 out of 5]

In disguise, Dionysus returns to the land of his birth, Thebes. He is angry at the women of Thebes for denying him his rights of worship and sends them all mad. The women become his Bacchantes and run into the forest to revel in Dionysus's ownership. They become drunk with wine and dance in wild displays of Dionysian rituals. He is especially angry with the family of Cadmus and seeks their destruction.
The chaste and prudish King of Thebes, Pentheus, is furious when he returns to discover that the women, including his mother, have gone into the forest. His grandfather, Cadmus, and the seer, Tiresias, also decide to join the women in the woods, wisely realizing the danger of going against the gods' wishes.
Pentheus orders the destruction of Tiresias' shrine to restore order, and he imprisons Dionysus in disguise. The women, however, have not been able to overcome. So, after Dionysus regains his freedom, God convinces Pentheus to dress as a woman and enter the forest as one of the Bacchantes to go among them in disguise, find his mother, and bring her back to the city.
After dressing as one of the female Bacchantes, Pentheus enters the forest and finds the women's dwelling place. However, Dionysus achieves his ultimate revenge by driving the women into their madness to think that Pentheus is a wild beast. At Pentheus' mother's insistence, the women fall upon him and tear him to pieces. Agave, his mother, holds Pentheus' head in her hands, imagining it as a wild beast, and Dionysus' revenge is complete.
After the horrible act, Dionysus releases the women from their madness, and Agave realizes she has destroyed her son. Dionysus reveals himself as the God and tells the former Bacchantes that he had Pentheus killed because he refused to honor and worship him and thus put himself against the gods' will.
Agave and Cadmus protest the dreadful punishment bestowed on Pentheus and Cadmus' family, who will be exiled.

[mina reads™️ · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Your name means grief you are suited for it”


Dionysus remains my favorite of the pantheon

[Peiman · Rating 4 out of 5]

اساطیر و خدایان یونانی از جذاب‌ترین موضوعات برای منه. قهرمان کتاب کاهنه‌های باکوس دیونیزوس هست. دیونیزوس خدای شراب و انگور و شهوته و جوان ترین ایزد در بین خدایان یونان.
حاصل ازدواج کادموس و هارمونیا چهار دختر به نام های سمله، آگاوه، آتونوئه و اینو و یک پسر به نام پلیدروس بود. زئوس پادشاه خدایان، فرزند رئا و کرونوس، عاشق سمله میشه و حاصل این عشق دیونیزوس هست. آگاره که به این عشق باور نداشت، به سمله گفت از زئوس در خواست کند که خودش را به تمامی به او نشان دهد. زئوس که عهد کرده بود به تمام درخواست‌های سمله پاسخ مثبت دهد، خود را به سمله نمایاند و سمله چنان سوخت که حتی پس از مرگش هم دود از آرامگاهش بلند بود. زئوس، دیونیزوس را در ران خود جا می‌دهد و تا زمان متولد شدن از او نگهداری میکند. پس از اعلام خدایی، پنتئون پسر آگاوه از پرستش دیونیزوس سر باز میزنه و میخواد با اون بجنگه اما گرفتار کینه‌ی دیونیزوس میشه و این نمایشنامه شرح ماجرایی هست که در برخورد دیونیزوس و پنتئوس به وجود میاد. یک رویارویی همراه با شیدایی، جنون، نفرت و سنگدلی. دیونیزوس یک خدای بسیار انتقام گیرنده هست و سرنوشت دشمناش بسیار غم‌انگیزه. این نمایشنامه میتونه برای علاقه‌مندان به این ژانر جذاب و کمی سخت خوان باشه.ه

[Marc Lamot]

What is it about great literary geniuses who, at the end of their lives, produce works that exude a completely different atmosphere than their previous work? I am thinking of Shakespeare, Goethe, but also Euripides. The latter wrote this play in the very last year of his life, and it was not performed until after his death, in 405 BCE. It gives a somewhat messy impression, but that could also be due to the incomplete transmission of the text.

It is highly atypical for Euripides (at least if we judge by the plays we know of him, which is about a fifth of his oeuvre) that a deity appears here from beginning to end, and in a very prominent manner at that: the god Dionysus, Bakchos in Greek, represented in popular culture as the god of viticulture and drunkenness, and by extension also of the exuberant, the boisterous, the frenzied—in short, of anything that gets out of hand, and thereby also as the flip side of the orderly and the rational, that for which the ancient Greeks are so well known in our Hellenophilic culture. Following in the footsteps of Nietzsche, this deity and his cult have become the subject of unceasing study and, consequently, of continuous reinterpretation. This is why these Bacchae by Euripides can count on particular interest in that sense as well.

I have tried to read this piece as an outsider, and I must confess that it does not stick with me as much. Here, we are presented with few, if any, individual dilemmas or struggles, but rather with the simple premise of the leader of a city-state who cannot cope with the rise and popularity of a new, unruly cult (that of Dionysus, that is), and does everything possible to crush it. An important and obviously misogynistic element is that this cult has enormous success among women.

The play frequently takes on the characteristics of a comedy of errors, and involves a gender-shifting masquerade, only to end in an orgy of blind violence, after which Dionysus himself punishes the perpetrators. This is strange, especially since, as a reader, you simply fail to discover exactly what Euripides’ message is: did he want to warn against such excesses, or did he want that other side of reality—not order but chaos—to be taken seriously? The debate on this is still raging. The fact is that this play crosses quite a few boundaries, and that is a manifest Dionysian characteristic in itself. As a consequence, this piece is difficult to place within Euripides' oeuvre, but that it offers food for thought, despite its formal flaws, is beyond dispute.

I highlight a few more historical aspects in my History account on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show....

Disclaimer: I'm reading and reviewing classic ancient Greek plays, more or less in chronological order. But I'm not giving a rating. How could I, given their age? I'll make an exception only when a play is exceptional and still strikes an emotional and/or intellectual chord.

[David Sarkies · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Ancient Greeks had raves
2 May 2013

We actually don't have a complete copy of this play though the edition that I read attempts to reconstruct the missing sections (which is mostly at the end) because, as they say, this is a popular play that is regularly performed. This in itself is a strange statement since I have never seen it performed (in fact I have only ever seen one Greek play performed, and that was Oedipus Tyrannous and that was by an amateur theatre group). Mind you, Greek plays tend to be short, meaning that they last generally only as long as about a third of a Shakespeare play (though when they were performed in ancient times, it would usually be along with three others plays).

The Bacchae is about change and about the resistance to change and how our attempts to resist change is generally futile. Mind you it is a tragedy and it does have a pretty bloody ending (in that a number of the main characters end up dead, though the progenitor of change, Dionysus, doesn't, but then again he is a god). There are two things that do strike me about this play, the first being how there are reflections of Christianity in it, particularly early Christianity, and the second involves reflections of the modern rave culture. However, before I go into exploring those two aspects of the play I should give a bit of a background so you may understand where I am coming from.

The cult of Dionysus was a rather new cult to appear in Ancient Greece, as far as the gods are concerned, and he was not one of the traditional gods of the pantheon. He apparently was introduced through migrations from the north, particularly through Thrace. The cult itself was a mystery cult, meaning that the rituals and celebrations tended to be conducted behind closed doors (and this comes out in the Bacchae, particularly since the main worshippers were women). The celebrations (as also comes out in the Bacchae) generally involved drunken revelries out in the bush.

The Bacchae itself is set in the mythical period of Ancient Greece in the city of Thebes. The king of Thebes, Penthius, is concerned about this new cult that has appeared that is seducing all of the women into joining. As such he goes out of his way to attempt to put an end to it, including arresting Dionysus. It is interesting that Dionysus, unlike the gods in many of the other Greek plays, has a major role. Most of the gods in Greek drama tend to only come in at the beginning or the end, either to provide an introduction, or to intervene in a hopeless situation. However Dionysus is one of the major characters in this play.

Anyway Dionysius, in an attempt to defend his cult (and one wonders if his portrayal here is similar to the charismatic cult leaders that we have seen throughout history) convinces Pentheus to spy on one of the celebrations. However, in a drunken haze, the women in the midst of their celebration mistake Pentheus for an mountain goat, capture him, and tear him to pieces. However, the women do not get away scot free as they are exiled for, well, murder, despite their arguments that they were not in control of their faculties at the time.

The idea of the new cult is something that societies have faced throughout time, and it goes to show that the Roman persecution of Christianity is something that is not limited to that particular religion at that particular time. It is interesting to note that in the play Pentheus does not believe that Dionysus is a god, despite certain actions (such as blowing up his palace) that suggest otherwise. Further, the ignorance of the bacchic rites is also similar to Roman ignorance of certain Christian rites, such as the Lord's Supper.

Some have even suggested that Dionysus is a Christ figure, and the introduction to the play even has some similarities with the virgin birth. For instance, Dionysus is born of a woman but has Zeus as his father (though unlike Christianity, where the term 'conceived of the Holy Spirit' does not indicate a sexual union between God and Mary, where it is clear from this play that there was a sexual union between Zeus and Dionysus' mother, though this can be put down to our failure to understand, or accept, the possibility that conception can occur outside of sexual union, though these days this is changing). More interesting is that Dionysus mother is accused of extra-marital sex, which Mary also faced. Another interesting note is that after Dionysus' birth, Zeus hides him to protect him from being killed by a jealous Hera, which has reflections in the Christ story in that Jesus was spirited off to Egypt to protect himself from the murderous rampages of a jealous king.

Some might suggest that I am drawing some rather tenuous examples here, but I would argue otherwise. One of the reasons is generally because of the fear of Christians to look outside the box. We are more than happy to accept the Bible, but to consider anything outside of that, particularly with regards to pagan representations (or could they be prophecies) of the Christ, can open up to many probabilities. I guess it has to do with the conservative bent that most Christians have, in that what has been done over hundreds of years has proven itself and anything that is new can be dangerous or even destructive. However, remember what Paul writes in the book of Thessalonians: test everything, hold onto what is good, and reject what is bad. He did not say 'reject everything' but to 'test everything' which includes age old traditions.

I want to finish off with a comment on the modern rave scene. Okay, the idea of the outdoor rave out in the bush rose out of Britian where, in an attempt to stamp out drug use, the government made raves themselves illegal. However, it could also be suggested that the reason the mystery cults of ancient Greece met out in the bush was because they were also illegal. However (particularly since I have been to raves myself) there is something almost bacchic about the rave. The idea of taking drugs to induce feelings of pleasure, as well as the lights and the sounds adding to that, reflects what was occurring here in the Bacchae. In many cases, the rituals were sensual experiments in pleasure, which is similar to what happens at a rave. This also goes to show that the rave is not something new, but something that has been going on for centuries.

[Armin Ahmadianzadeh · Rating 5 out of 5]

باکخانت‌ها

پنجمین و آخرین نمایشنامه از کتاب پنج نمایشنامه ائوروپیدس ترجمه استاد کوثری عزیز نمایشنامه باکخانت‌ها هستش.

|خلاصه داستان باکخانت‌ها

"باکخانت‌ها" اثر اوریپیدس یک تراژدی یونانی است که بر روی تضاد میان خدای دیونیسوس و پادشاه پنتئوس از تبس تمرکز دارد، که از پذیرش الوهیت دیونیسوس سر باز می‌زند. این نمایش به بررسی موضوعاتی چون جنون، دین و عواقب خودبزرگ‌بینی می‌پردازد.

پیش‌زمینه داستان باکخانت‌ها(backstory)

داستان سمله و زئوس:

سمله که دختر کادموس پادشاه تبس بود توجه زئوس، خدای خدایان، را جلب کرد و از او باردار شد. این فرزند همان دیونیسوس بود. اینجای ماجرا هرا، بانوی حسود و قدرتمند زئوس وارد قضیه میشه و خودش رو به شکل دایه سمله در میاره و دائم تو گوشش می‌خونه که از زئوس بخواد تا شکل واقعی‌شو نشونش بده. زئوس هم در نهایت تصمیم می‌گیره به‌خواسته سمله توجه کنه و اینکارو بکنه. دیدن ظاهر واقعی و با ابهت زئوس همان و مرگ تراژیک سمله همان! با این حال، زئوس موفق شد دیونیسوسِ متولد نشده را نجات دهد و او را به ران خود بدوزد تا زمانی که آماده تولد شود. این داستان تولد غیرمعمول، جایگاه دیونیسوس را به عنوان خدایی که پلی بین قلمروهای الهی و فانی است، نشان می‌دهد.

دیونیسوس به عنوان پسر زئوس، در میان خدایان در کوه المپ بزرگ شد. او به مراقبت هرمس، خدای پیام‌رسان، و حوریان کوهستان سپرده شد که اسرار طبیعت، مانند کشت، پرورش انگور و شراب‌سازی را به او آموختند. این تربیت در هر دو حوزه فانی و الهی، دیونیسوس را به خدای شراب، باروری و گیاهان تبدیل کرد.

|تحلیل دقیق‌تر کاراکترهای نمایشنامه باکخانت‌ها:

دیونیسوس

دیونیسوس یا باکوس خدای شراب، باروری و تئاتر است و شخصیت مرکزی نمایش به شمار می‌آید. او نمایانگر قدرت شوق مذهبی و عواقب بی‌احترامی به مقام الهی است. دیونیسوس هم انتقام‌جو و هم زیرک است و از قدرت‌های خود برای فریب و مجازات کسانی که به او بی‌احترامی می‌کنند، استفاده می‌کند. شخصیت او یادآور اهمیت دیانت و تأثیر خدایان بر امور انسانی است. به‌نظرم باز هم نبود اخلاق در خدایان رو می‌تونیم در دیونیسوس ببینیم. نه‌اینکه ضداخلاق باشند، صرفا عاری از هر گونه اخلاق هستند و خدایی می‌کنند!

پنتئوس

پنتئوس پادشاه جوان و مغرور تبس است و شخصیت مقابل دیونیسوس در "باکخانت‌ها" به حساب می‌آید. او نمایانگر خطرات خودبزرگ‌بینی و بی‌احترامی است، زیرا عدم پذیرش الوهیت دیونیسوس منجر به نابودی نهایی او می‌شود. در طول نمایش، شخصیت پنتئوس از یک حاکم سرسخت و مغرور به فردی دچار جنون و ترس تبدیل می‌شود که عواقب مخرب بی‌احترامی به خدایان را برجسته می‌کند.

آگاوه

آگاوه مادر پنتئوس و پیرو دیونیسوس است. شخصیت او تجسم قدرت تحول‌آفرین و مخرب تأثیر الهی است، زیرا در جنون ناشی از دیونیسوس گرفتار می‌شود و به‌طور ناخواسته پسرش را می‌کشد. داستان آگاوه نشان‌دهنده آسیب‌پذیری انسان‌ها در برابر خشم الهی و عواقب ویرانگر درگیر شدن در تعارضات میان مخلوقات و خدایان است.

تیرسیاس

پیشگوی نابینا که به پنتئوس درباره خطرات بی‌احترامی به الوهیت دیونیسوس هشدار می‌دهد.

کادموس

پادشاه پیشین تبس، و پدربزرگ پنتئوس. او هم‌چنین پدربزرگ دیونیسوس هم هست. خود کادموس هم داستان جالبی دارد. او به‌عنوان بنیان‌گذار شهر تبس شناخته می‌شود. طبق افسانه‌ها، کادموس پسر پادشاه فنیقیه، آگنور، بود. داستان او زمانی آغاز می‌شود که خواهرش، ائوروپه، توسط زئوس که خود را به شکل یک گاو درآورده بود، ربوده می‌شود. کادموس به همراه برادرانش به جستجوی او می‌رود.

پس از اینکه نتوانستند ائوروپه را پیدا کنند، کادموس به پیشگوی دلفی مراجعه کرد تا راهنمایی بگیرد. پیشگو به او دستور داد که جستجویش را رها کند و به دنبال گاوی با علامت مشخص—هلال ماه روی پهلو—برود و تا زمانی که گاو برای استراحت کردن بایستد، او را دنبال کند. جایی که گاو استراحت کرد، کادموس باید شهری جدید تأسیس کند.

کادموس گاو را دنبال کرد تا اینکه در بئوتیا استراحت کرد و تصمیم گرفت شهر تبس را تأسیس کند. برای قربانی کردن گاو به آتنا، او مردانش را فرستاد تا آب از چشمه‌ای نزدیک بیاورند. اما چشمه توسط یک اژدهای مار مانند محافظت می‌شد که بیشتر مردان او را کشت. کادموس خشمگین شد و آن موجود را کشت و به توصیه‌ی آتنا، دندان‌های آن را مانند بذر در زمین کاشت.

از دندان‌های اژدها یک نژاد از جنگجویان وحشی به نام اسپارت‌ها متولد شدند. کادموس سنگی را در میان آن‌ها پرتاب کرد و باعث شد که آن‌ها با هم بجنگند تا تنها پنج نفر باقی بمانند. این پنج جنگجو به کادموس کمک کردند تا تبس را بسازد و خانواده‌های بنیان‌گذار شهر شدند.

برای جبران مرگ اژدها که مقدس آرس بود، کادموس به مدت هشت سال خدمت این خدا را پذیرفت. به عنوان پاداش، او با هارمونیا، دختر آرس و آفرودیت ازدواج کرد. این زوج چهار دختر—آگاوه، اینو، آتونوئه و سمله—و یک پسر به نام پلیدروس داشتند. تبس تحت فرمانروایی آن‌ها رونق یافت.

زندگی کادموس و هارمونیا بدون تراژدی نبود. دخترشان سمله به دلیل نقشه‌ای از سوی هرا، که نمی‌توانست عشق زئوس به او را تحمل کند، جان خود را از دست داد. در ادامه‌ی زندگی، کادموس و هارمونیا شاهد از دست دادن نوه‌هایشان نیز بودند، از جمله پنتئوس که توسط ماینادها تکه‌تکه شد و آکتائون که توسط سگ‌های خود خورده شد.

با افزایش مصائبشان، کادموس و هارمونیا تصمیم گرفتند تبس را ترک کنند که سرانجام، آن‌ها به مار تبدیل شدند—پایانی که می‌تواند هم به عنوان مجازات برای مصائبشان و هم نمادی از تولدی دوباره تعبیر شود. در برخی نسخه‌ها، آن‌ها به قلمرو خدایان صعود کرده و الهی می‌شوند. ولی برحسب باکخانت‌ها ائوروپیدس به‌عنوان مجازات محکوم به‌زندگی به عنوان مار شدند.

باکخانت‌ها
پیروان زن دیونیسوس که به "ماینادها" نیز معروفند و در پرستش شیدایی و جنون‌آمیز خدا شرکت می‌کنند.


|کلام آخر در باب باکخانت‌ها

به‌نظرم این نمایشنامه ائوروپیدس با بقیه نمایشنامه‌ها یک فرق اساسی داشت و حتی حس‌و‌حال خوندنش هم با بقیه یکی نبود. در این نمایشنامه برخلاف قبلی‌ها که خدایان در جایگاه خدایی بودند و نظاره‌گر سرنوشت‌هایی که رقم می‌زدند بودند، دیونیسوس در کالبد آدمی وارد عرصه شده بود و نقش به‌شدت فعال‌تری را به‌عهده داشت. و در کل نمایشنامه‌ عجیبی بود. اواخر نمایشنامه رو از ابتدای اون بیشتر دوست داشتم.

ترجمه:
امان از ترجمه‌های نفیس و شاهکار استاد کوثری...🔥🔥

امتیاز من به‌این اثر: ۴.۵ از ۵

تکه‌هایی ناب از نمایشنامه:

"بدان که هر گستاخ بی‌پروا
که عنان به‌دست زبان می‌سپرد
شهروندی خطرساز است و نادانی مهلکه‌انداز."

[Moira]

....no, I don't know why Elvis's mugshot is on the cover either.

[Ali Ahmadi · Rating 5 out of 5]

باکخانت‌ها (کاهنه‌های باکوس)
یا
ظهور در یک بعدازظهر بهاری

بچه که بودم یک بار این سوال را جایی دیدم و بعد تا مدت‌ها ذهنم را مشغول کرد: «فردای ظهور امام زمان، تیتر اول روزنامه‌ها چه خواهد بود؟» به هر حال نسل ما اینطور بار آمده بود که وقتی می‌خواند موسا در مقابل فرعون عصایش را اژدها می‌کند و دستش را نورانی، تنها واکنشش تاسف به حال فرعون بود که چطور می‌بیند و ایمان نمی‌آورد. (البته که فارغ از آنچه در خانه و مدرسه یاد می‌گرفتیم، اقتضای سن کم همین بود که دیدن یعنی باور کردن.) اما بزرگ‌تر که شدم فهمیدم یک پای لنگ منجی‌گرایی همین است که هیچ راهی برای باوراندنش به همه وجود ندارد جز زور. نتیجه‌ی منطقی اعتقاد به این که کسی، جایی و زمانی می‌آید و ما را نجات می‌دهد، بدبینی و شک است. این که من به وجود منجی باور داشته باشم دلیل نمی‌شود که هر کس با کتاب و معجزه و هوادار بیاید را منجی‌ بدانم. پس واکنش فرعون به موسی, نمرود به ابراهیم یا داریوش مادی به دانیال را نه لزومن از سر غرور، که از دین‌داری آن‌ها هم می‌توان دید. (امروز میدانیم که برخلاف ادعاهای کتب‌ مقدس، شاهان میان‌رودان و ایران خود را پروردگار مطلق نمی‌دانستند و دیگران را به پرستش خود مجبور نمی‌کردند، بلکه خود را نماینده‌ی الوهیتی غیرمادی می‌‌دیدند و پادشاهی‌شان را فرهی ایزدی که یک وظیفه‌اش به‌پا داشتن نیایش خدایان است.)

برقص یا بمیر
باکخانت‌ها هم داستانی از همین جنس است. بسیاری از کسانی که با اساطیر یونان چندان آشنا نیستند، به لطف نیچه و یونگ (یا شارحان اینستاگرامی‌شان) با کهن‌الگوهای دیونیزوسی و آپولویی را می‌شناسند. احساسات، غریزه و ناخودآگاه در برابر نظم، منطق و اراده. دو جنبه‌ی متضاد روان آدمی که در حالتی ایده‌آل، در تنشی پویا اما متعادل‌اند. اما ورای جنبه‌ی فلسفی و روان‌شناسانه، دیونیزوس یا دیونوسوس —که نام دیگرش باکوس است— تفاوت مهمی از نظر اسطوره‌ای با آپولو دارد: او خدایی جوان است که بعد از انسان‌ها به‌دنیا آمده.

در اساطیر یونان به نمونه‌های زیادی برمی‌خوریم که مثل هراکلس، هلن یا پرسئوس فرزند یک خدا و یک میرایند، اما تا وقتی زنده‌اند نیم‌خدا به‌حساب می‌آیند نه چیزی بیشتر. پس باید حق بدهیم که باورش سخت است که باکوس، با مادری آدمیزاد، یک خدای واقعی و تمام و کمال باشد. خانواده‌ی باکوس —به‌طور ویژه خاله‌هایش و پسرخاله‌اش پِنتئوسِ پادشاه— هم می‌گویند که او در حقیقت پدری انسان و ناشناس دارد و برای فرار از بی‌آبرویی این داستان را سر هم کرده. (در حقیقت این اشاره‌ی مهم اوریپیدس است به یکی از دلایل فرعی برآمدن ایده‌ی وصلت خدا و انسان در خانواده‌های سلطنتی یعنی پنهان کردن نسب فرزندانی که نسب‌شان نامعلوم یا نامطلوب است.) باکوس به تبعیدی خودخواسته در آسیا می‌رود (که در آن زمان به آناتولی و قلمروی هخامنشیان گفته می‌شده) و با هواداران پرشماری برمی‌گردد که به آیین رقص و شادخواری او پیوسته‌اند. او دو راه برای پنتئوس، خاله‌هایش و باقی مردم شهر می‌گذارد: ایمان بیاورید یا طعم انتقام را بچشید.

خداحافظی در اوج
باکخانت‌ها از چند نظر نمایشنامه‌ی مهمی‌ست. از نظر تاریخی، آخرین نمایشنامه‌ی اوریپیدس و آخرین تراژدی یونانی‌ست که به ما رسیده. [باکخانت‌ها یکی از دو نمایشنامه‌ای بود که عمر نویسنده به کارگردانی‌اش نکشید و توسط پسر یا پسر برادر اوریپیدس روی صحنه رفت.] شاید بهترین شکلی که میشد کارنامه‌ی یک فرد و یک دوره‌ی ادبی به پایان برسد. باکخانت‌ها پر از معجزه، خشونت و عناصر دیداری دیگری‌ست که صحنه را زنده می‌کنند و تماشاگر را میخکوب. البته که اوریپیدس در پرداخت چنین صحنه‌هایی بسیار باتجربه‌ بوده، اما تفاوت اینجاست که این حوادث دهشت‌بار بار به شکلی اندام‌وار (ارگانیک) بر بدنه‌ی نمایش می‌نشینند. برای اولین بار (در تراژدی)، خدایی در قامت انسان درآمده و آنطور که میخواهد کیفر می‌دهد. اعمال اراده‌ی او بر شخصیت‌ها و پیش بردن داستان با خواست مطلقش او را درجایگاه کارگردان نمایش قرار می‌دهد؛ یا به عبارت بهتر، مرز بین خدا و کارگردان را کمرنگ می‌کند. مورد دیگر نام اثر است. باکخانت‌ها در اصل همان گروهی هستند که با باکوس به شهر تِبِس می‌آیند و همسرایان نمایشنامه را می‌سازند، که نقششان در مقایسه‌ با بسیاری از تراژدی‌های متاخر محوری‌تر و پررنگ‌تر است. اما باکخانت‌ها گروهی دیگر را هم شامل می‌شوند: زنانی که دعوت باکوس را نمی‌پذیرند و به دام دیوانگی جمعی می‌افتند، انگار که همان گروه اول را ده برابر افراطی‌تر کنیم. بار دیگر تقابل زن مستقل و زن دیوانه. باکوس زن‌ها را از زندان خانه نجات می‌دهد یا با فریب دادن آنها بنیان جامعه را تهدید می‌کند؟ و بلاخره می‌رسیم به نقش پادشاه. پنتئوس معجزات باکوس را می‌بیند اما باورش نمی‌کند. چرا باید جلوی چنین آدم بی‌ربطی که زمین و زمان را به هم دوخته و ادعای خدایی می‌کند زانو بزند؟ پنتئوس هم محافظه‌کاری ترس‌خورده‌ست که می‌خواهد جلوی موج آزادی را بگیرد، هم پادشاهی وظیفه‌شناس که خانواده و شهرش را دوست دارد و می‌خواهد تا آخرین نفس از آن دفاع کند. منطق آپولویی یا غریزه‌ی باکوسی؟ اوریپیدس پاسخی نمی‌دهد و همین اثر او را درخشان می‌کند.

خوانده‌شده از ترجمه‌ی کوثری

[Ana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dos "três grandes" da tragédia grega, faltava-me ler o "mái novo", Eurípedes.😁
Foi através desta sua tragédia "As Bacantes", considerada por muitos a sua obra prima, que finalmente me resolvi a descobri-lo.

Que tragédia forte esta! Proporcionou-me emoções que estiveram muito perto das que senti ao ler Édipo Rei de Sófocles. Apesar de não destronar esse meu favorito de sempre, foi sem dúvida uma experiência de leitura também ela inesquecível!

Será que a vingança de Dioniso, filho de Zeus e da mortal Sémele, se abaterá sobre a casa de Cadmo, sua linhagem mortal na terra?
Ou será que Penteu, a quem Cadmo agora na velhice entregou o governo de Tebas, deixará de negar que Dioniso é um deus e conceder-lhe-á o culto e honras que lhe são devidas? Dioniso é mesmo um deus ou Sémele terá realmente mentido ao afirmar a sua gravidez como divina?...

Encontrarão nesta pequena tragédia um embate bem desequilibrado entre as forças terrenas e divinas, bem retorcida e com muitos apontamentos retorcidos, cruéis e macabros!

Sinto como sempre um privilégio que esta tragédia tenha chegado aos nossos dias, mas ao mesmo tempo pena que não tenha chegado a tetralogia completa, para entender melhor o lugar desta no todo. No entanto parece que outra das tragédias que compunham a obra original também chegou aos nossos dias: "Ifigénia em Àulis" que por sorte já tenho também na estante. No que toca a tragédias gregas será essa a minha leitura seguinte 😍

[Fionnuala]

Blind Tiresias has some great lines in this play: "Maybe some one will say, I have no respect for my grey hair in going to dance with ivy round my head; not so, for the god did not define whether old or young should dance, but from all alike he claims a universal homage, and scorns nice calculations in his worship."

"A headstrong man, if he have influence and a capacity for speaking, makes a bad citizen because he lacks sense."

"Two things there are, young prince, that hold first rank among men, the goddess Demeter, that is, the earth, call her which name thou please; she it is that feedeth men with solid food; and as her counterpart came this god, the son of Semele, who discovered the juice of the grape and introduced it to mankind, stilling thereby each grief that mortals suffer from, soon as e’er they are filled with the juice of the vine; and sleep also he giveth, sleep that brings forgetfulness of daily ills, the sovereign charm for all our woe. God though he is, he serves all other gods for libations, so that through him mankind is blest."

But Tiresias reminds us too that "Likewise Dionysus hath some share in Ares’ rights; for oft, or ever a weapon is touched, a panic seizes an army when it is marshalled in array; and this too is a frenzy sent by Dionysus."

And that "the words of a fool are folly."

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

O que é a sabedoria? Ou que dádiva mais bela
dos deuses, aos olhos dos homens,
do que manter a mão segura
sobre a cabeça do inimigo?

... quando o inimigo é poderoso, sabedoria será "dançar com as Bacantes" para não se perder a cabeça. Como a perdeu Penteu, cuja tragédia é das mais terríveis da Mitologia Grega.


(Morte de Penteu - Fresco da Casa dos Vettii, em Pompeia)

Penteu, rei de Tebas e neto de Cadmo e Harmonia, quando Tirésias o avisa da chegada de um deus - que será a sua destruição caso não se submeta ao novo culto - escarnece do vidente. Penteu não aceita que o seu povo idolatre um rapaz efeminado que diz ser filho de Zeus. Todos o tentam chamar à razão, mas Penteu não cede e manda prender Diónisos. Iludido pelo deus, vai ao local de culto onde as Bacantes, enfeitiçadas, o despedaçam. É Agave, a mãe de Penteu, que lhe arranca a cabeça exibindo-a, triunfante, julgando tratar-se de um leão.

Se tivésseis sabido ter senso, o que não quisestes, poderíeis ser felizes, tendo por aliado o filho de Zeus.

[withdrawn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Euripides & Anne Carson. Exquisite!

[رزی - Woman, Life, Liberty · Rating 4 out of 5]

دیونیزوس/دیونوسوس یا باکوس؛ ایزد جشن و شراب
ایزدی نه همیشه رحمت‌آور بلکه به‌شدت انتقام‌جو.

بسیار بوده است که آدمی از راه و بیراه بر دیگران پیشی جسته و دست بر مکنت و مال نهاده.
هزاران هزار آرزو و هزاران هزار مرد
لیک از این میان تننها برخی به کامیابی رسیده‌اند
و بسیاری دیگر مانده‌اند با تیری به سنگ آمده.
اما به پندار من نیکبخت آن مردی‌ست
که هر روزش به شادمانی بگذرد.

پیش از این‌که به داستان نمایشنامه برسیم...
«سمله» دختر کادموس عاشق زئوس شده و طبق بعضی روایت‌ها با حیله‌ی خواهرش آگاوه و طبق روایت‌های دیگری با اصرار هرا، از زئوس درخواست می‌کنه که خودش رو با تمام خدایی و شکوهش جلوی اون نشون بده. زئوس هم به‌خاطر این‌که با سمله پیمان بسته بود به ناچار خودش رو نشون سمله می‌ده اما تن میرای سمله طاقت تماشای کمال زئوس رو نداشت و طوری آتش گرفت که حتی از قبرش هم دود بیرون می‌اومد. اما زئوس به موقع کودک شش‌ماهه رو از رحم سمله درمی‌آره و در شکاف ران خودش پنهان می‌کنه تا به دنیا بیاد. البته طبق روایت تیرسیاس که یکی از شخصیت‌های نمایشنامه‌ست، در واقع زئوس به علت مخالفت هرا با حضور دیونیزوسِ کودک در اولمپوس، بچه رو در پاره‌ای آسمان جا داد و مردم این افسانه رو به زبون انداختند که دیونیزوس در ران زئوس پنهان شد. خلاصه، روایت به دنیا اومدن این خدا رو ببینید چه دیوانه‌وار بود؛ این نمایشنامه روایت زندگیش، خشمش علیه کسانی که قبولش ندارند و تلاشش برای ثابت کردن خودش به انسان‌هاست. اینجا خدا نجات‌دهنده یا بلاآور و به‌طور کلی شخصیتی در حاشیه نیست، بلکه حتی شخصیت اصلی تراژدیه.

این عکس اسپویل داره البته نمی‌دونم درمورد این نمایشنامه‌ها اسپویل داریم یا نه-

تکه‌تکه شدن پنتئوس به دست آگاوه و اینو.

کادموس: ای دیونوسوس بر ما رحمت آور
اگرچه گناهکارانیم
دیونوسوس: دریغا که دیر مرا به جای آوردی
نه آن زمان که می‌بایست.
آگاوه: اما خدایان را نشاید که خشم آدمیان را با خشم پاسخ بگویند.

[Jonfaith · Rating 4 out of 5]

That which is beyond us, which is greater than the human, the unattainably great, is for the mad, or for those who listen to the mad, and then believe them.

Setting a goal of reading 10 ancient Greek book this year including the Homer(s). It is decision based in deficit.

This is powerful, alight with natural bliss and bubbles of madness. It is a shame the Gods so enjoy dispensing the latter at their whim. Pastoral nightmares, this prefigures Hoffmann and the Romantics.

This play is more spiteful than heroic. I did like it. Aside from crowd psychology and chemical issues it does offer a cautionary tale focused upon ridiculing minority sects. The reveal is always so agonizing, it is protracted and the recipient character doesn't understand--until she does.

[max theodore]

this one really has it all. homoerotic rival foil characters. fanatic fevered bacchic maenad girls' night. dismemberment

[♥Milica♥ · Rating 4 out of 5]

I grew up loving Greek Mythology, but somehow never read Bakkhai? Very strange of me. But better late than never.

The translation I read was quite modern, so I had no trouble figuring out what was going on and the introduction was very informative as well.

But the play itself did nothing to endear me to Dionysius, I'm just saying. He's always been one of my least favourite Greek Gods, and hasn't moved up nor down my list post read. Was it good though? Yes. And I would reread it in the future.

[Cemre · Rating 2 out of 5]

Bu sefer kolaya kaçıyorum ve yorum yapmayıp kitaptan benim için kitabın özeti olan iki alıntı yapmayı tercih ediyorum.

"İnsani tutkular tanrılara yakışmaz" (s.62).

"Tanrılar insanların bahtında
türlü türlü gösterirler kudretlerini.
Türlü hallere sokarlar bizi hiç beklenmedik,
umduğumuz şeyler olmaz
ummadığımız hallere getirirler bizi.
İşte bu dram da böyle bitti" (s.64).

[leynes · Rating 3 out of 5]

Okay, this is a really cool play. And Anne Carson's translation of it is dope as hell. It's just not as good as her Oresteia, so I'm a bit salty about that, but anyways. This play is essentially about gendered power and female rage, so buckle up, bitches, because we will get in this thang.

Euripides' Bakkhai tells the story of how Dionysus (the god of wine, ecstasy, transformation, and altered states) basically fucks up his birthplace, Thebes, because the city (especially its ruler Pentheus) refuse to acknowledge him as a god. We all know the gods are petty as hell and Dionysus is no exception. He essentially punishes the city because they have disrespected him.

Disguised as a mortal, he captivates many of the local women and turns them into his "Bakkhai", so his female devotees. These women literally run young, wild, and free, honey. They've left the city and are literally living their best lives away from men in the woods. Doing nothing but singing, dancing, and drinking wine all day. Oh, and fucking up men when they come near, of course. Like, literally tear them to pieces kind of fucking up – "Proud angry bulls stumbled to the ground unter the hands of girls / who clawed the meat off them". It's pretty epic.

Anyways, kinda understandably, the young king of Thebes, Pentheus, sees this new "religion" as a threat to the social order of the city (*coughs* it is), because the women no longer fulfill their "domestic roles" as devoted wives and loving mothers etc. etc. (boo boo tomatoes tomatoes). He therefore orders for the foreign stranger, whom he doesn't recognise to be Dionysus, to be arrested.

Dionysus being the God that he is, naturally has the upper hand and manages to trick Pentheus into going into the mountains himself to spy on the Bakkhai.

Look at Pentheus
twirling around in a dress,
so pleased with his girl-guise
he's almost in tears.
Are we to believe
this desire is new?

Dionysus convinces Pentheus that he has to dress up as a woman, for the girls to not rip him to shreds. To no one's surprise he immediately betrays Pentheus once he arrives at the mountain, by revealing his location and his true identity to his Bakkhai. The girls, Pentheus own mother Agave among them (the Greek sure love a good tragedy, honey), attack him, and in their ecstatic state, tear him apart. (It's pretty epic, ngl.) Agave then returns to Thebes carrying what she believes is the head of a lion she has killed. Only gradually does she realize that she is actually carrying the head of her own son. (womp womp)

It's a romp, really, and it says a lot about male violence, female rage and what happens when women escape male control. Pentheus' fear of the Bakkhai can be boiled down to his general fear of women outside male supervision. The women have literally (as in physically) left the city to live in the mountain, but they've also spiritually left the city and its moral codes behind. Within the city they are restricted and confined to the roles men have designed for them: as wives, mothers, and daughters. Outside of male control, they can move freely and form their own community.

And Pentheus is obsessed with them, obsessed with the thought of what they are doing when the men aren't watching. Pentheus repeatedly associates the Bakkhai with sexual disorder, while the play never fully validates his assumptions. In the play, the world the Bakkhai inhabit is described as "This is the world before men." And it is that negation that terrifies Pentheus the most.

With men in the picture, women are (forced to be) obedient, nurturing, domestic, sexually controlled, and physically non-threatening. In the woods, they are liberated from these boxes. But their liberation, of course, is terribly violent. And we also cannot deny the fact that their "freedom" is mediated through a male god, Dionysus, whom they women still worship. So there's a lot to say about that as well. The question that arises towards the end is if the women are actually becoming independent, or if they are being used as mere instruments of divine power.

That tension is tangible. Dionysus gives women access to power—but he also controls the circumstances in which they exercise it. Of course, in the tragic finale, Agave, Pentheus' mother, recognises her son, and therefore what she has done (aka kill him). And then poof, gone is her rage. The woman, who in her frenzy, was capable of extraordinary violence is now left with extraordinary grief.

So, by the end of the play, rage has collapsed into grief, and the ecstatic freedom of the mountains has given way to the unbearable reality of what happened there. It lowkey made me think of Langston's poem "Harlem", in which he muses about what happens to a dream deferred: "Maybe it just sags / like a heavy load. / Or does it explode?"

Bakkhai seems to answer that last question with a decided YES. When desire, freedom, and rage are suppressed for long enough, they do not simply disappear; they find another way out. The play leaves us with the terrifying possibility that what looks like irrational female violence might also be the eruption of everything that has been denied, controlled, and silenced—and that once it explodes, nobody, not even the women themselves, gets to decide where the pieces land.

[Sense of History]

Just as with Iphigenia at Aulis, Euripides' previous work, a warning applies once again: the textual transmission of this work is rather flawed. Of the first half of this play there are two complete manuscripts, but they date from the 14th century, and for the rest of the text we have to rely on shattered fragments. The conclusion must be that the text has only limited reliability, and that is likely one of the reasons why experts endlessly disagree on the interpretation of the whole or parts of it.

Of historical importance is the focus of this tragedy (which at times resembles a hilarious comedy), namely the cult of the deity Dionysus. I read among various experts that this play is connected to the arrival of foreign religions in Ancient Greece, particularly cults described as "orgiastic," especially of European (Thracian) but also Asian (Persian/Indian?) origin. Those cults had a very different character when you compare them to the beautifully ordered pantheon of Olympus: there a dysfunctional family reigned, but in a remarkably coherent way.

The strange thing is that Euripides centers here on the introduction of the cult of Dionysus, which is indeed related to the new movements, yet was much older and much more indigenous. When reading this play, one sometimes gets the impression that Euripides wanted to argue for the integration of those new movements, but at other times that he wanted to point out the dangers involved. Opinions on this vary widely, partly due to the incomplete transmission of the text.

However, there is no doubt that the Greece of his time, the late 5th century BCE, underwent enormous changes and was the subject of major cultural shifts. This was, moreover, partly the result of the very cosmopolitan attitude of the Greeks, who, despite cultivated chauvinism (I refer to the term 'barbarians'), were still open to external influences. It is fascinating to recognize the impact of this in this play as well!

[Matthew Ted · Rating 4 out of 5]

113th book of 2021.

CADMUS
And whose head do you hold in your hands?

AGAVE (averting her eyes)
A lion's . . . The huntresses . . . They said . . .

CADMUS
Look at it properly. Just a quick glance.

AGAVE
What is it? What am I holding in my hands?

CADMUS
Look closely now. Be sure.

AGAVE
Ah! No! No! I see the greatest sorrow.

CADMUS
Does it still look like a lion?

AGAVE
No! No. It is . . . Oh gods! It is Pentheus's head I hold.

CADMUS
Now you see who I was mourning.

AGAVE
Who killed him? How did he come to be in my hands?

CADMUS
This is too hard, this truth. It took so long to come to this.

AGAVE
Tell me! Please! My heart beats with terror.

CADMUS
You killed him. You and yours sisters.

AGAVE
Where did it happen? Here, at home? Where?

CADMUS
On Cithaeron, where the dogs tore Actaeon apart.

AGAVE
Cithaeron? But why was Pentheus there?

CADMUS
He went to mock the gods, and your rituals.

AGAVE
But we - why were we there?

CADMUS
You were out of your wits.
The whole city was possessed by Bacchus.

AGAVE
I see. Dionysus has destroyed us all.

CADMUS
You enraged him. You denied him as a god.

AGAVE
And where, Father, is the rest of my poor son?

CADMUS (pointing to the stretcher)
Here. I found all I could.

AGAVE
Is he complete, and recently arranged?
But why should Pentheus suffer for my crime?

CADMUS
Like you, he refused the god.
And so the god ruined us all:
you, your sisters, and this boy.
This house is destroyed as well, and me with it.
I have no male heirs, and now I have lived to see
the fruit of your womb so shamefully destroyed.
(addressing the corpse) It was through you, my boy,
that this house regained its sight.
It was you, my daughter's son,
who held the palace together and the citizens in line.
It was you who would punish anyone who slighted me.
But now I shall be dishonoured,
an outcast from my own home.
I, Cadmus the great, who sowed the Theban race
and reaped that glorious harvest.
Dearest of men - for even in death
I count you as the man I love the best -
no more will you stroke my beard, child,
no more will you hug me, call me 'Grandfather' or say:
'Has anyone wronged you or shown you disrespect?
Has anyone disturbed or hurt you?
Tell me, Grandfather, and I will punish them.'
But now there is grief for me and a shroud for you,
and pity for your mother and her sisters.
If anyone still disputes the power of heaven,
let them look at this boy's death
and they will see that the gods live.

[Katya]

"Quando falta o bom-senso ao homem audaz e simultaneamente poderoso e hábil na palavra, ele torna-se um cidadão perigoso."
28


Com obras destas, fica difícil escolher um tragediógrafo de eleição. Os três grandes poetas gregos autores de tragédias (Ésquilo, Sófocles, Eurípides) competem belamente, não haja dúvida. Já quase desisto da insistência de que o primeiro deles é realmente o melhor... quase.

Agora a parte gira.

De três anos à boleia em Clássicas, o latim não resistiu lá muito bem, mas isto, curiosamente, ficou:

As Grandes Dionísias, celebravam-se no início da primavera e duravam vários dias durante os quais o público participava em sacrifícios, cerimónias cívicas (como homenagens fúnebres, militares etc.) e, claro, assistia à representação teatral.
Um dia estava reservado à comédia e três à tragédia (com a representação de 3 tragédias + 1 drama satírico).

E quem era este público?
Certamente homens (embora as mulheres, garantidamente, participassem nos primeiros dias do festival para as procissões e sacrifícios) e certamente aliados da Liga de Delos (uma das coligações entre cidades aliadas durante a guerra aos persas - a par da Liga do Peloponeso -, liderada por Atenas. Estas ligas representavam o expoente máximo da democracia grega - gorado pela guerra, claro, do Peloponeso.

De entre as representações que aí tomavam lugar, nas Dionísias, sabemos hoje, ironicamente, que muito poucas obedeciam à temática dionisíaca. Isto talvez se explique - entre várias outras razões de origem esotérica - pelo facto do dionisismo ser um culto flagrantemente feminino. Ora pois, a cultura helénica assentava fortemente na fórmula do patriarcado, logo, em valores misóginos.*

Em As Bacantes, Eurípides - frequente concorrente no festival - retoma a tragédia mítica e traz-nos um rei (Penteu) derrotado pela força do deus (Baco), e um traçado geral da forma como o homem soberano encara a postura, o papel e o "potencial" da mulher ateniense (diga-se desde já que, quando as mulheres são retratadas como Ménades - sacerdotisas bárbaras de Baco - a despedaçar homens e animais em êxtases orgiásticos, o suposto potencial não é propriamente simpático...).

À parte isso, não deixa de ser curiosa a escolha de Eurípides por várias outras razões, entre elas a forma como escolhe apresentar os deuses e os homens - neste caso, o deus e o homem:

Desde logo, porque, para um grego, existem três categorias de seres vivos:

Animais;
Humanos;
Mortais.

Estes últimos obedecem, por ordem, a estas qualidades:

Racional e mortal;
Racional e imortal.

Espantosamente, nem Penteu nem Baco parecem honrar o primeiro desses atributos. Falta a ambos, desde logo, aquilo a que um ateniense chamaria de aretê (virtude essencial para a formação de um herói, por exemplo) e que consistia no respeito pelos valores morais da civilização. Neste caso, e para Penteu, o respeito pelos deuses; para Baco, o respeito pelo inimigo.

Assim, e porque a ambos manca essa qualidade, o rei desrespeita o deus e o deus vinga-se no rei (e na família toda que isto é uma tragédia que se preza!)

Ficam os reis desde já avisados, e contra isto pouco há a dizer:


"Infinitas são as manifestações da vontade divina; infinitos os acontecimentos que os deuses desencadeiam contra o que tinhamos previsto. Os que esperamos, esses não se realizam, os que não esperamos, um deus lhes abre o caminho."
91


Esta peça fez Eurípides subir na minha consideração ao ponto de ficar envergonhada pelas vezes que já disse não gostar da sua Medeia.
É assim bom!





* sobre esta temática, e os desafios contemporâneos de interpretação e encenação, existem vários estudos muito interessantes, nomeadamente: "Rebel Women, Staging Ancient Greek Drama Today", editado por John Dillon and S. E.Wilmer

[Sasha · Rating 4 out of 5]

Antigone on PCP

Sophocles' Antigone is about tyranny, or more broadly authority: Creon's need for order vs. Antigone's need for personal freedom. Everyone loses, Creon most of all, and your reaction to Antigone might depend partly on your feelings about authority; if you're a pro-authority type of person, your sympathies might tend towards Creon.

Here we have essentially the same debate. Dionysos shows up in his birthplace of Thebes to start his cult, with a band of ecstatic lady followers in tow. Theban leader Pentheus (also Dionysos' cousin, which doesn't particularly come into play) is all "You guys are nuts and I'm having none of this bullshit." And Dionysos responds.

Because this is Euripides, who's relatively lurid, Dionysos' reaction seems completely out of proportion, at least to me: he sends Pentheus's mom into a frenzy during which she tears off Pentheus's head. Holy shit, right? Isn't that sortof a ripoff of True Blood season 2?

But the point is authority vs. freedom, a theme the Greeks returned to again and again - see, in addition to Antigone, that whole Socrates thing. This is about what leadership should be - what should be led and what left alone - and it's a good thing the Greeks spent so much time thinking about it, considering that they were in the process of inventing leadership as we know it. And that exploration, cast through the double-crazy lens of Dionysos and Euripides, is terrific.

Guys, I'm so glad I figured this out. My original review was like "WTF is this, I don't get it," and I feel way smarter now. Also, now I really like this play. High five!

Also: nice to see the old blind sex-shifting prophet Tiresias, as he gets ready to go out Bacchaeing with Pentheus's grandfather:

Well, where do we dance?
Where do we let our footsteps fall
and waggle our decrepit grizzly heads?

which is something I might put on my tombstone. Tiresias kicks ass.

This is a review of the play, not this translation; I used Paul Roche's translation, which was (as usual) fine.

[Jenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

Όσους κολακευτικούς χαρακτηρισμούς κι αν χρησιμοποιήσω,θα είναι λίγοι.Λίγα θεατρικά έργα με άγγιξαν όσο αυτό-διαβάστε το και θα με θυμηθείτε!

[Sinem]

bu kitabı klasik yunan tragedyası olduğunu varsayarak okumaya başlamayın çünkü bu bir inanç kitabı. üstelik klasik yunan tragedyalarında olduğu gibi sadece karşılıklı kısa diyaloglardan oluşmuyor, hikaye anlatımı da var.
Sabahattin Eyüboğlu kitabı iki farklı fransızca çevirisini karşılaştırarak çevirmekle birlikte Azra Erhat'a kontrol ettirmiş. Metni okurken üçüncü dilden okuyorsunuz gibi bir his hiç yok. O dönemin çevirmenlerindeki bu hassasiyet ve işini iyi yapma aşkına hayranım. Kitabın girişinde Mario Meunier'in Dionysos Dini başlıklı makalesini metinden önce okumakta fayda var, fakat makalenin aşırı akademik ve dipnotlarla bezeli olduğunu söylemeden geçemeyeceğim. Ben geçtiğimiz aylarda birkaç defa başlayıp karmaşık geldiği için bırakmıştım. Dionysos iki kere doğmasından başlayarak özünde ikilik barındıran ve bölgeye göre miti değişen bir tanrı. bu da okuduğunuzu anlamayı, kişileri ve tanrıları konumlandırmayı zorlaştırıyor.
Zeugma öncesi Mainadlarla tanışmam süper oldu, çingene kızını bambaşka bir gözle göreceğim şimdi.

[Maria A 🌙]

This is why I dont go to parties