Monday, June 28, 2010

Dichotomy and Gender in Greek Myth

In the summer of 2010, I took a course called Myth and Criticism. It was a third level course that came midway through my MA and was a bit of a reprieve from the standards that I had been maintaining for the previous year. The course covered functionalist, feminist, structuralist, comparatist, Freudian, and euhemeristic theory with a focus on Greek myth but with broader applications. One of the trends I noticed that was especially obvious in structuralist analyses was a polarization between dichotomous institutions in Greek culture that caused social tension or anxiety and that, according to Levi-Strauss, were mediated by elements in myth. Most obvious was the cultural regulation of the roles of and perspectives on men and women in a definitively patriarchal society. Although I was not required to write a full essay for the course, it reminded me of a course I had taken in 1994 in which I wrote an essay on Euripides' Bacchae, that addressed a similar idea, in an admittedly naive vein.

ECSTASY: FUN AND FEVER

-A Study in Euripides' The Bacchae-


David C. Long
(198480)


Carleton University
Instructor D.G. Beer
Greek and Latin Literary Genres - 18.209 A
March 23, 1994


The male, female dichotomy in Euripides' The Bacchae, is of particular interest for the way it represents a symbolic set of polar extremes. A simplification of the stereotype of the era is that men were rational and women were irrational. Although Euripides probably believed that these were only stereotypes, he used it as a vehicle to demonstrate the perils of blindly associating yourself with either extreme. That isn't to say that this polarity is the only function. Indeed, the confused sexuality plays an integral role in creating an atmosphere of paganistic wantonness; an exemplification of the dichotomy of beauty and the horrific that occur simultaneously in emotional abandon. The male, female dichotomy is also implicit to a series of paradoxical opposites he was using to demonstrate the ironic relationship between symbol and truth in human understanding.
The text is replete with examples of the gender stereotype. Pentheus comes across as purely logical. He is the young male king who has not matured enough to understand the value of tempering logic with insight. To him, everything must have a rational explanation. He can only believe that
"The truth about Dionysus
Is that he's dead, burnt to a cinder by lightning
Along with his mother because
she said Zeus lay with her" (Velacott 199).
He accuses the young Bacchic foreigner, actually a disguised Dionysus, of a shape
"not unhandsome - for the pursuit
Of women, which is the purpose
of your presence here" (Velacott 206).
He assumes that the only reason "every eastern land dances these mysteries" is because "Their moral standards fall far below ours" (Velacott 207). The women, in his opinion, have not left to worship a god, but, "on some pretence of Bacchic worship" in order to drink "bowls full of wine" (Velacott 198). Pentheus claims to Teiresias that his acceptance of Dionysus is out of a "hope to advance (his) augurer's business, to collect more fees" (Velacott 200). Pentheus will accept only the completely rational.
As soon as Pentheus must face the existence of the irrational, he becomes associated with the feminine. After the 'miracle' earthquake caused by Bacchus, Pentheus becomes confused and begins questioning the rationality of what is occurring around him. Dionysus uses this time to escape prison, which to Pentheus was an impossibility. His confusion throws him into a flurry of repetitive questioning, wondering, "what's going on now? How did you get out?" (Velacott 213). The ensuing tale of the supernatural powers of the Maenads told by the messenger further disillusions Pentheus and Dionysus takes this opportunity to impose his trance on him. Now, completely open to the suggestion of the irrational, Bacchus convinces him to dress "in female garb" (Velacott 222). Bacchus explains,
"While sane, he'll not consent to put on women's clothes,
Once free from the curb of reason, he will" (Velacott 222). At this point Pentheus has become totally submerged in irrational surroundings. He says, "a bull I see leading me" and notices "the seven gates appear double", as does the sun (Velacott 224-225). Pentheus' confusion reduces him to a simpering fairy and he croons,
"How do I look?
Tell me, is not the way I stand
Like the way Ino stands,
or like my mother Agaue?" (Velacott 225).
Dionysus agrees, "You are the very image of one of Cadmus' daughters" (Velacott 224). Simultaneous with Pentheus' descent into the irrational is his complete transformation into the feminine.
Pentheus and Dionysus play the male and female dichotomy together in a reversal of the hunter and hunted relationship. The emotional abandon represented by Dionysus is nothing more than a "vile cult" to Pentheus (Blaiklock 228). "His enthusiasm had dwelt with pleasure on a disciplined state, and here was a movement likely to destroy its harmony" (Blaiklock 216). His "home had been thus invaded, and he was bitter" (Blaiklock 213). He becomes the hunter of Bacchus, as is evident in the guards' words,
"Pentheus, we've brought the prey you sent us out to catch;
We hunted him" (Velacott 205).
Dionysus pretends to be the helpless victim of Pentheus' suppression. Upon his entrance, "He has long flowing hair and a youthful almost feminine beauty" (Velacott 191). His hair is described as "Flowing in scented ringlets" and his face is "flushed with wine" (Velacott 199). Pentheus is well deceived about his ability to "track down // That effeminate foreigner" (Velacott 203). In this part of the play, he appears as the strong, dominant, male figure, attempting to crush any deviant irrationality.
Dionysus is quick to reverse these roles. Early in the story, the chorus establishes his ultimate role by hinting that Dionysus "hunts for blood" (Velacott 196). Sure enough, once Dionysus has raped Pentheus of his logic and his masculinity, he tells the women, "this man is walking into the net" (Velacott 222). Bacchus, toying with his prey, tells Pentheus he might catch a glimpse of the Maenads, "if you are not first caught yourself" (Velacott 226). To complete the reversal, Dionysus releases the crazed Maenads on their 'maiden' sacrifice, Pentheus. More than even a simple 'lynch-mob', they are described like rabid hunting dogs.
The irrationality of women is established immediately in Bacchus' opening speech. He says, about the Maenads, that "Their wits are gone", and that
"...the whole female population of Thebes,
To the last woman, I have sent raving
from their home" (Velacott 192).
Pentheus begins imprisoning what he refers to as "all these crazy females" (Velacott 200). He also chastises Cadmus, dressed in effeminate Bacchic garb, for engaging in "crazy folly" and that he will "punish this man who has been your instructor in lunacy" (Velacott 203). Euripides is blatantly exploiting the stereotype of women as irrational.
The irrationality of women was further emphasized by the public belief that Euripides was a misogynist. Aristophanes often ridiculed Euripides for this reputation in his comedies. Euripides held women up to such close examination in his plays, a humiliation to the "modest" women in his era, and invariably portrayed them as evil. With such comments as,
"...as for women,...
wherever the sparkle of sweet wine adorns their feasts,
No good will follow" (Velacott 200)
and,
"...This is beyond
All bearing, if we must let
women so defy us" (Velacott 219),
it seems in his opinion that the honour and behaviour of women is to be esteemed lesser than that of men, and certainly as irrational.
The irrationality stereotype of the woman is perhaps best exemplified by the chorus. In their emotional rapture, they oscillate between the serenely beautiful and the bloodily horrific. In dreamlike verse, they chant such passages as,
"O for long nights of worship, gay
With the pale gleam of dancing feet,
With head tossed high to the dewy air -
Pleasure mysterious and sweet!
O for the joy of a fawn at play
In the fragrant meadow's green delight" (Velacott).
Their very next words are bloodthirsty and strike a startlingly fickle contrast.
"...sever the throat
Of the godless, lawless, shameless son of Echion,...
[Then with growing excitement, shouting in unison, and
dancing to the rhythm of their words]...
...let the stampeding
Herd of Maenads
Throw him and throttle him,
Catch, trip, trample him to death!" (Velacott 229).
Irrationality is a 'double-edged sword'. Aside from the combined natural beauty and frenzied horror of the chorus, the Maenads also exemplify the dangers of totally succumbing to ecstasy. They are initially described by the herdsman as behaving
"...modestly, not - as you told us - drunk with wine
Or flute music , seeking the solitary woods
For the pursuit of love" (Velacott 215).
They appear as virginal forest nymphs revelling in the thrill of vitalism. But, as the Bacchic intoxicant becomes overwhelming, Bacchus' wish to
"...join that army
Of women possessed and lead them to battle"
comes to pass (Velacott 193). At the peak of their Bacchic hysteria, they reach a tumultuous climax of unparalleled evil.
"Agaue was foaming at the mouth; her rolling eyes
Were wild; she was not in her right mind, but possessed
By Bacchus, and she paid no heed to (Pentheus). She grasped
His left arm between wrist and elbow, set her foot
Against his ribs, and tore his arm off by the shoulder.
...On the other side
Ino was at him, tearing his flesh; and now
Autonoe joined them, and the whole maniacal horde.
A single and continuous yell arose - Pentheus
Shrieking as long as life was left in him, the women
Howling in triumph. One of them carried off an arm,
Another a foot, the boot still laced on it. The ribs
Were stripped, clawed clean; and women's hands, thick
red with blood,
Were tossing, catching, like a plaything,
Pentheus' flesh" (Velacott 232).
There is a dual nature to ecstasy, one of freedom and pleasure, the other of verifiable evil in the extreme absence of logic.
Dionysus embodies the ambiguous dichotomy of ecstasy. He is both feminine and masculine and, by extension, evil and divine. He delineates himself as "Most terrible, although most gentle" (Velacott 222). The guard concurs, telling Pentheus that, "the beast was gentle" when he was hunted (Velacott 205). Ironically, Dionysus' evil, normally associated with women by Euripides, reaches full bloom when Dionysus is no longer the feminine hunted, but the masculine hunter. He relieves Pentheus of his trance at the moment of his death for no other reason than to watch him suffer the pains of his demise all the more lucidly. Dionysus establishes his divinity by purporting, "I am a god, and you insulted me", but is summed up more accurately by Cadmus' lamentation, "your revenge is merciless" (Velacott 243).
The state of drunkenness, which Dionysus is the god of, is a perfect example of his duality (Segal 156). Teiresias reminds us that
"When mortals drink their fill
Of wine, the sufferings of our unhappy race
Are banished, each day's troubles
are forgotten in sleep" (Velacott 200).
In the short run, this euphoria is all well and good, and quite therapeutic, but at what cost? The women became "riotous bands", caught in the "maddening trance of Dionysus" (Velacott 195). Excessive imbibement is well known to cause a dangerous lack of inhibition.
The male, female dichotomy, when associated with the ecstatic ritual, creates an almost paganistic atmosphere of wanton sexuality. Revelling in nature,
"...the Maenads catch
Wild snakes, nurse them and twine them
round their hair" (Velacott 195).
In all nature, however, occurs a "brute wildness" (Velacott 195). Pentheus believed that the
"...women go creeping off
This way and that to lonely places and give themselves
To lecherous men" (Velacott 198).
These words might be 'taken with a grain of salt' considering his insanely rational logic but are somewhat reified by Teiresias when he says,
"Dionysus will not compel
Women to be chaste" (Velacott 201).
The combination of the confused gender role of Dionysus, the paganistic wildness and the sexual promiscuity paint a vivid picture of 'heart-pounding' ecstasy.
Pure rationality is no less dangerous. Using Pentheus as the paradigm for pure rationality, Euripides establishes it as negative as well. Teiresias, the voice of truth and vision, insists that Pentheus' rejection of Bacchus is because "a most cruel insanity has warped his mind" (Velacott 202), and later blatantly tells him, "now you are insane" (Velacott 203). Dionysus himself tells Pentheus, "I am sane and you are mad" (Velacott 208) and,
"You know not what you are saying, what you do, nor who
You are" (Velacott 208).
Pentheus' sin was a strict devotion to the purely logical and as a result, Bacchus destroys him. He does not have the faculties to deal with his emotional alter ego, and is thus decimated when he comes in contact with it. Anagnorisis is achieved only once the characters have been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. The revelation is that denying one emotional extreme, rational or irrational, can only result in tragedy.
Pentheus' realization occurs at the time of his death in a last moment of lucidity. Returning from his trance, he cries,
"Mother have mercy, I have sinned,
But I am still your own son.
Do not kill me!" (Velacott 232).
The sin is that which Dionysus mentions in his introduction.
"He is a fighter against gods, defies me, excludes from
Libations, never names me in prayers" (Velacott 193).
This sin is tantamount to the sin of chaste Hippolytus against Aphrodite in Euripides' Hippolytus, if we consider that emotion is personified in Dionysus. More specifically, Pentheus is denying his emotionally irrational side and in so doing, realizes his own destruction.
Agaue, too, only achieves anagnorisis after having been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. Returning from the Bacchic ritual in which she believed herself to be "hunting wild beasts with (her) bare hands", she is "still rapt in her unhappy frenzy" (Velacott 236). The 'double-edged sword' of her revelry is coming to light and it is noteworthy that the Bacchic frenzy is described for the first time as "unhappy". In a particularly poignant and concise anagnorisis, Cadmus forces her back to the world of the rational by instructing her to examine her hunting trophy. "Look at it steadily; come closer to the truth" (Velacott 238). She realizes, "I hold Pentheus' head in my accursed hand. Dionysus has destroyed us. Now I understand" (Velacott 238). Her return to the rational world coincides with her understanding that she has not been hunting but mesmerized in an emotional and violent delirium.
Teiresias embodies a link between polar extremes and avoids tragedy. He is the combined male and female, old and young, and logical and emotional. Teiresias, appearing with Cadmus and also dressed effeminately in Bacchic garb, is first referred to as "the wise voice of a wise man" (Velacott 197). The distinction here is that he is said to be wise, not strictly rational. His wisdom emerges from his ability to experience the revelry of emotion. Teiresias quickly agrees, for example, with Cadmus' assertion,
"...What joy it is
To forget one's age!" (Velacott 197).
Teiresias is able to see that "no one is exempt" from the necessity of Bacchus (Velacott 198). He continues to say that
"...the god draws no distinction between young
And old" (Velacott 198).
Maintaining the female half of the dichotomy, his words are echoed by the herdsman. He describes the Maenads as "women both old and young" (Velacott 215). Cadmus is destroyed as a part of Pentheus' tragedy (Segal 156), but Teiresias points out that their attempt to breach the parameters of age and masculinity has given him the wisdom to "see things clearly" and that "all others are perverse" (Velacott 197). These words foreshadow his survival and the doom of all who do not achieve this dually emotional and logical anagnorisis.
Euripides employed the male, female dichotomy as an implicit element to a series of dichotomies he was using to philosophize on the nature of truth, symbol and understanding. He was concerned with such intellectual developments of his era as sophistry, tragedy, and religious revolt. The Dionysiatic ritual, whereby the hunter becomes the hunted, actually became the model for all subsequent tragedy (Conacher 56-58). Even such non-structured details as the sinister in sexuality are evident in works as late as Shakespeare's Hamlet. This tragedic model was ironic to Euripides "because by creating illusion tragedy seeks to convey truth; by causing us to lose ourselves it gives us a deeper sense of ourselves; and by representing events filled with the most intense pain it gives us pleasure" (Segal 156). "The mind runs back over the strange pain and beauty of the play, and there comes the sudden realization that the whole day has been a carnival of madness" (Blaiklock 228). Much in the same way wisdom occurs when logic is balanced with emotion in the play, we see self-awareness for the audience emerging from the emotional engagement in theatre.
"Dionysus is the god of wine, and religious ecstasy; he is also the god of the drama and the mask. His worship breaks down the barriers not only between god and beast and between man and wild nature, but also between reality and illusion" (Segal 156). The chorus supplies a concise summation to the audience in the concluding lines of the play.
"The things we thought would happen do not happen;
The unexpected god makes possible:
And that is what has happened here today" (Velacott 244).
More broadly, nobody young or old, male or female, is exempt from the need to temper the rational with the irrational, to combine logic with emotion, to see what reality lies behind appearances, and to learn truth from fiction.




BIBLIOGRAPHY

Blaiklock, E.M. The Male Characters of Euripides. Wellington:
New Zealand University Press, 1952.

Conacher, D.J. Euripidean Drama. London: Oxford University
Press, 1967.

Segal, Charles. "The Bacchae as Metatragedy", in Burian, Peter,
ed. Directions in Euripidean Criticism. Durham: Duke
University Press, 1985.

Velacott, Philip, tr. Euripides The Bacchae and Other Plays.
Toronto: Penguin Books Canada Ltd., 1973.