Sophocles, Blues Man

I think we can say that Sophocles’ Antigone is over the top.

The morbidity and high seriousness are so “extra” that maybe we should respond–with a smile and a head shake–as we do when B.B. King sings:

Nobody loves me but my mother,
And she could be jivin’ too.

In that spirit, consider Antigone’s famous address to the chorus before she’s led off to die:

806-816

Citizens of the fatherland, look at me–
Last time walking this road.
Last time seeing sunlight.
This is it.

Hades who readies sleep for all
Ushers me alive to Acheron’s shore.
I did not have my wedding song;
No nuptial hymn was sung for me.
That’s ok. I’ll be Acheron’s bride.

Also, consider the bluesy earthiness of the messenger’s philosophy of life, as told to the chorus (and rendered in bluesy English):

1165-1171

When a man’s fun goes,
He’s not alive, if you ask me.
He’s a feeling corpse, that’s my view.

Live large, if that’s your jam.
Roll like a king.
But when the thrill is gone,
That stuff’s not worth a shadow of smoke.
Nope, not without the fun.

806-816

ὁρᾶτέ μ᾿, ὦ γᾶς πατρίας πολῖται
τὰν νεάταν ὁδὸν
στείχουσαν, νέατον δὲ φέγ-
γος λεύσσουσαν ἀελίου,
κοὔποτ᾿ αὖθις· ἀλλά μ᾿ ὁ παγ-
κοίτας Ἅιδας ζῶσαν ἄγει
τὰν Ἀχέροντος
ἀκτάν, οὔθ᾿ ὑμεναίων
ἔγκληρον, οὔτ᾿ ἐπὶ νυμ-
φείοις πώ μέ τις ὕμνος ὕ-
μνησεν, ἀλλ᾿ Ἀχέροντι νυμφεύσω.

1165-1171

. . . καὶ γὰρ ἡδοναὶ
ὅταν προδῶσιν ἀνδρός, οὐ τίθημ᾿ ἐγὼ
ζῆν τοῦτον, ἀλλ᾿ ἔμψυχον ἡγοῦμαι νεκρόν.
πλούτει τε γὰρ κατ᾿ οἶκον, εἰ βούλῃ, μέγα,
καὶ ζῆ τύραννον σχῆμ᾿ ἔχων, ἐὰν δ᾿ ἀπῇ
τούτων τὸ χαίρειν, τἄλλ᾿ ἐγὼ καπνοῦ σκιᾶς
οὐκ ἂν πριαίμην ἀνδρὶ πρὸς τὴν ἡδονήν.

“The fundamental function of the blues musician . . . is not only to drive the blues away and hold them at bay at least for the time being, but also to evoke an ambiance of Dionysian revelry in the process.”–Albert Murray, Stomping the Blues

Larry Benn has a B.A. in English Literature from Harvard College, an M.Phil in English Literature from Oxford University, and a J.D. from Yale Law School. Making amends for a working life misspent in finance, he’s now a hobbyist in ancient languages and blogs at featsofgreek.blogspot.com.

The Wonder and Horror of Man: Homer, Sophocles and Shakespeare

Is it possible for a classicist–much less a Homerist–to travel far from home without thinking about the Odyssey? As I prepare to journey back to the states while contemplating the horrors of violence throughout the world and the man-made catastrophe brewing in Greece (whether ‘yes’ or ‘no’, the episode is of our own making, and the human suffering completely avoidable), I find myself returning to some passages we posted a year ago.

Homer, Odyssey 18.130-5

“The earth raises up nothing feebler than man—
[of all the things that creep and breathe over the earth]
For we think that we will never suffer evil tomorrow
As long as the gods give us excellence and our limbs are quick.
But when the gods carry out painful things too,
We endure them unwillingly with a tormented heart.”

οὐδὲν ἀκιδνότερον γαῖα τρέφει ἀνθρώποιο
[πάντων, ὅσσα τε γαῖαν ἔπι πνείει τε καὶ ἕρπει.]
οὐ μὲν γάρ ποτέ φησι κακὸν πείσεσθαι ὀπίσσω,
ὄφρ’ ἀρετὴν παρέχωσι θεοὶ καὶ γούνατ’ ὀρώρῃ·
ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ καὶ λυγρὰ θεοὶ μάκαρες τελέωσι,
καὶ τὰ φέρει ἀεκαζόμενος τετληότι θυμῷ.

Uplifting? Yes. And it made me think of the famous “Ode to Man” from Sophocles’ Antigone (332-41):

There are many wonders and none
is more surprising than humanity.
This thing that crosses the sea
as it whorls under a stormy wind
finding a path on enveloping waves.
It wears down imperishable Earth, too,
the oldest of the gods, a tireless deity,
as the plows trace lives from year to year
drawn by the race of horses….

?Ο. Πολλὰ τὰ δεινὰ κοὐδὲν ἀν-
θρώπου δεινότερον πέλει·
τοῦτο καὶ πολιοῦ πέραν
πόντου χειμερίῳ νότῳ
χωρεῖ, περιβρυχίοισιν
περῶν ὑπ’ οἴδμασιν, θεῶν
τε τὰν ὑπερτάταν, Γᾶν
ἄφθιτον, ἀκαμάταν, ἀποτρύεται,
ἰλλομένων ἀρότρων ἔτος εἰς ἔτος,
ἱππείῳ γένει πολεύων.

(It keeps going… Go here for the full text).  This, of course, I cannot consider without thinking of Shakespeare’s Hamlet (2.2.303-12):

“What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.”

And this led me to listen to the musical ‘version’ from Hair, the sweetness of the song makes the bitter lesson a bit easier to swallow:

Sophocles, Antigone 648-9

 

 

“Son, never lose your mind for the pleasure of a woman.”

 

 

μή νύν ποτ᾽, ὦ παῖ, τὰς φρένας ὑφ᾽ ἡδονῆς

γυναικὸς οὕνεκ᾽ ἐκβάλῃς

 

 

Poor advice, perhaps, in the city of Thebes