Opening Of The Play Oedipus example essay topic

Oedipus has been made King of Thebes in gratitude for his freeing the people from the pestilence brought on them by the presence of the riddling Sphinx. Since Laius, the former king, had shortly before been killed, Oedipus has been further honored by the hand of Queen Jocasta. Now another deadly pestilence is raging and the people have come to ask Oedipus to rescue them as before. The King has anticipated their need, however. Creon, Jocasta's brother, returns at the very moment from Apollo's oracle with the announcement that all will be well if Laius' murderer be found and cast from the city. In an effort to discover the murderer, Oedipus sends for the blind seer, Tiresias.

Under protest the prophet names Oedipus himself as the criminal. Oedipus, outraged at the accusation, denounces it as a plot of Creon to gain the throne. Jocasta appears just in time to avoid a battle between the two men. Seers, she assures Oedipus, are not infallible. In proof, she cites the old prophecy that her son should kill his father and have children by his mother. She prevented its fulfillment, she confesses, by abandoning their infant son in the mountains.

As for Laius, he had been killed by robber's years later at the junction of three roads on the route to Delphi. This information makes Oedipus uneasy. He recalls having killed a man answering Laius' description at this very spot when he was fleeing from his home in Corinth to avoid fulfillment of a similar prophecy. An aged messenger arrives from Corinth, at this point, to announce the death of King Polybus, supposed father of Oedipus, and the election of Oedipus as king in his stead. On account of the old prophecy Oedipus refuses to return to Corinth until his mother, too, is dead. To calm his fears the messenger assures him that he is not the blood son of Polybus and Merope, but a foundling from the house of Laius deserted in the mountains.

This statement is confirmed by the old shepherd whom Jocasta had charged with the task of exposing her babe. Thus the ancient prophecy has been fulfilled in each dreadful detail. Jocasta in her horror hangs herself and Oedipus stabs out his eyes. Then he imposes on himself the penalty of exile, which he had promised for the murderer of Laius. Fate and the Hero in Oedipus Rex Steve Juanico Introduction to Literature Dr. Rhoda Sirlin 12 December 1998 God. God.

Is there a sorrow greater? Where shall I find harbor in this world? My voice is hurled far on a dark wind. What has God done to me? -Oedipus Let every man in mankind's frailty Consider his last day; and let none Presume on his good fortune until he find Life, at his death, a memory without pain.

-Choragos Fate and the Hero in Oedipus Rex My literature professor, Dr. Rhoda Sirlin, asked the class one Saturday afternoon whether Oedipus was a victim of fate or of his own actions. I ventured to say that maybe it was his destiny to suffer, but Dr. Sirlin asked me to explain why Oedipus, in the act of gouging his eyes out, cries explicitly: No more, no more shall you look on the misery about me, The horrors of my own doing! Too long you have known The faces of those whom I should never have seen, Too long blind to those for whom I was searching! From this hour, go in darkness!

(Sophocles 830) Clearly, Dr. Sirlin pointed, Oedipus was aware that he alone was responsible for his actions. Moreover, Dr. Sirlin also stressed the fact that if Oedipus was not responsible for his actions, then he could not be viewed as a tragic figure since he would be a mere puppet of fate or the gods. I was not prepared to argue one so scholarly as the professor, so I stayed silent. Roy, the loquacious spokesperson of the class, and the professor then discussed Oedipus's explosive temper whether it was a tragic flaw or not, as seen in what the professor aptly called the earliest recorded incident of 'road rage.

' Dr. Sirlin believed that his volatile temper was one factor that contributed to his downfall. I cannot remember now the salient points of Roy's argument, but I do recall that I partook in the debate by urging the class to look at Oedipus as a hero who was trying to assert his rights, as a hero who was trying to defend his honor, when he slew those who violated his right of way on that fateful day where the three highways came together: There were three highways Coming together at a place I passed; And there a herald came towards me, and a chariot Drawn by horses, with a man such as you describe Seated in it. The groom leading the horses forced me off the road at his lord's command; But as this charioteer lurched over toward me I struck him in my rage. The old man saw me And bought his double goad down upon my head As I came abreast. He was paid back, and more! ...

I killed him. I killed them all. (Sophocles 819) I tried to support my contention by repeating what my history professor, Dr. Martin Pine, taught me about the hero: the hero prizes above all else his honor and the excellence of his life. When his honor is at stake, all other considerations become irrelevant. My argument, Juanico 2 however, failed to sway Dr. Sirlin's opinion in my direction. She concluded that Oedipus's inability to control his violent anger was a tragic flaw or what the ancient Greeks called hubris.

Two ideas kept recurring in my mind as the class finally ended that afternoon: fate and the hero. I knew instinctively that the thesis for my paper lay buried in those two concepts. After much arduous searching and sleepless nights reading, I now believe that fate victimized Oedipus, but he was a tragic figure since he was not a puppet of fate or the gods. Being a hero, he freely chose to pursue and accept his own destruction. I will first focus my attention to the ancient Greeks' idea of the hero.

The hero is a person who possesses superior qualities of mind and body and who proves his superiority by doing great deeds of valor, strength, or intellect. Oedipus was certainly a hero who was exceptionally intelligent though one can argue that killing four men at Phokis singlehanded ly more than qualified him as a physical force to be reckoned with. He undeniably knew his heroic status when he greeted the supplicating citizens of Thebes before the palace doors saying: 'Would not have you speak through messengers, and therefore I have come myself to hear you-I, Oedipus, who bear the famous name' (Sophocles 801). The priest, speaking in behalf of the suffering citizens of Thebes, recognizes Oedipus's heroic qualities when he entreats him to save the city from the plague: You are not one of the immortal gods, we know; Yet we have come to you to make our prayer As to the man of all men best in adversity And wisest in the ways of the God. You saved us Juanico 3 From the Sphinx, that flinty singer, and the tribute We paid to her so long; yet you were never Better informed than we, nor could we teach you: It was some god breathed in you to set us free.

(Sophocles 802) Donna Rosenberg, editor of World Mythology: An Anthology of the Great Myths and Epics, states in her introduction to Greek mythology that the hero 'valued strength and skill, courage and determination, for these attributes enabled the person who possessed them to achieve glory and honor, both in his lifetime and after he died' (38). Glory and honor were the most important goals of the hero, for these guarantee him immortality. The hero, being blessed with superior qualities of mind and body, loved to engage in battle, preferably with another hero, since combat gave him the best chance to demonstrate his excellence. D. Brendan Nagle, author of The Ancient World: ASocial and Cultural History, contends that the hero was always belligerent because he regarded combat as the 'ultimate test of human valor, strength, and ability' (91). Victory in battle, according to Nagle, justified his eminent position in his community (91). Both Rosenberg and Nagle agree that death was the inevitable and final fate of the hero. The hero, Rosenberg acknowledges, 'never forgot that death was inevitably his ultimate fate' (38).

Death was the sine qua non of a hero's life since how he died was a 'vindication' of what he stood for in life; death would not take the hero in some 'trivial accident,' but at 'the precise moment' destiny has assigned for his " exit' (Nagle 92). Yet, the hero never questioned his fate. He accepted his destiny by directing his energies to those aspects in his life he could control: his honor and the excellence of his life (Rosenberg 38). All other considerations were subservient to these two values. Composed by Homer more than two thousand years ago, Juanico 4 the exchange between Hector and Andromache, when she begs him not to return to the battle raging outside the walls of Troy, for it was foretold that he would die in the hands of mighty Achilles, exemplifies best the essence of the heroic spirit: Andromache grasped his hand, and said, 'O Hector! your strength will be your destruction; and you have no pity either for your infant son or for your unhappy wife who will soon be your widow. For soon all the Achaeans will set upon you and kill you; and if I lose you it would be better for me to die.

I shall have no other comfort, but my sorrow. I have no father and no mother: for my father Ection was slain by Achilles... And I had seven brothers in my home, and all of them swift-footed Achilles slew; and my mother, who was Queen at Places, died in my father's house. Hector you are father and mother and brother to me, and you are my proud husband. Come, take pity on me now! Stay on these walls, and do not leave your son an orphan and me a widow.

' To her in reply said Hector of the flashing helmet... 'But I should feel great shame before the Trojans and the Trojan women of long robes if like a coward I should linger away from battle. Nor do I find that in my heart, for I have been taught to be brave always, and to fight in the forefront among the Trojans, winning great glory for my father and for myself. ' (qt d. in Kitto 57) One can see from the preceding passage that the hero will not even consider the needs and love of his family when his glory and honor are at stake. But it would be a mistake to view the hero as someone who is devoid of compassion-Hector also shows how much he cares for Andromache as he continues talking to her: 'For well do I know this, and I am sure of it: that the day is coming when the holy city of Troy will perish, and Priam and the people of wealthy Priam. But my grief is not so much for the Trojans, nor for Hecuba herself, nor for Priam the King, nor for my many noble brothers, who will be slain by the foe and will lie in the dust, as for you, when one of the bronze-clad Achaeans will carry you away in tears, and end your days of freedom...

And then a man will say, as he sees you weeping, 'This is the wife of Hector, who was the noblest in battle of the horse-taming Trojans, when they were fighting around Ilion. ' This is what they will say: and it will be fresh grief for you, to fight against slavery, bereft of a husband like that. But may I be dead, may the earth be heaped over my grave before I hear your cries, and of the violence done to you. ' So spake shining Hector, and held out his arms to his son. (qt d. in Kitto 57) Oedipus, a hero of superior intelligence, also displays this uncompromising attitude in his pursuit of the truth. Compare this Juanico 5 dialogue between Oedipus and Jocasta, when she begs him not to pursue his inquiry regarding his origin, to that of Hector and Andromache and see the similarities: Oedipus. Do you know anything about him, Lady?

Is he the man we summoned? Is that the man this shepherd means? Jocasta. Why think of him? Forget this herdsman.

Forget it all. This talk is a waste of time. Oedipus. How can you say that, when the clues to my birth are in my hands? Jocasta. For God's love, let us have no more questioning!

Is your life nothing to you? My own is pain enough for me to bear. Oedipus. You need not worry. Suppose my mother a slave, and born of slaves: no baseness can touch you. Jocasta.

Listen to me, I beg you: do not do this thing! Oedipus. I will not listen; the truth must be made known. (Sophocles 825) Oedipus also demonstrates his compassionate nature when he tells the plague-stricken citizens of Thebes how he feels for their distress: Poor children! You may be sure I know All that you longed for in your coming here. I know that you are deathly sick; and yet, Sick as you are, not one is as sick as I. Each of you suffers in himself alone His anguish, not another's; but my spirit Groans for the city, for myself, for you.

(Sophocles 803) The hero's conscious choice to pursue and accept his doom, however, makes him a tragic figure. Bernard M.W. Knox, author of The Heroic Temper: Studies in Sophoclean Tragedy, points out that the hero has to choose between his doom and an alternative 'which if accepted would betray the hero's own conception of himself, his rights, his duties,' but in the end the hero 'refuses to yield; he remains true to himself, to his phys is, that 'nature' which he inherited from his parents and which is his identity' (8). Therefore, one can see Oedipus's unwavering insistence to uncover the truth about the murder of Laius and then about himself as proof of the hero's resolute commitment to uphold his own 'nature. ' Oedipus's unyielding quest for the truth fits his self-image as 'a man of action,' 'the revealed of truth,' and the " solver of riddles' (Knox 28). Knox adds that the hero's Juanico 6 determination to act is 'always announced in emphatic, uncompromising terms' (10).

Oedipus proclaims his intention of finding Laius's killers by saying, 'Then once more I must bring what is dark to light' (Sophocles 804). When Jocasta begs him to cease his inquiry regarding his identity, Oedipus replies, 'I will not listen; the truth must be made known' (Sophocles 825). The hero cannot be swayed by threats or reason; he will not capitulate. One can only hope that the hero will realize the folly and error of his ways in time (Knox 26).

Creon, after being accused by Oedipus of conspiring against the king, retorted, 'You do wrong when you take good men for bad, bad men for good... In time you will know this well' (Sophocles 815). The hero, however, never learns in time; 'he remains unchanged' (Knox 26). Oedipus, after his terrible self-mutilation, realizes that he treated Creon unjustly: 'Alas, how can I speak to him? What right have I to beg his courtesy whom I deeply wronged?' (Sophocles 833). But later Creon has to remind Oedipus that he is no longer king when he starts issuing imperious commands such as: 'But let me go, Creon!' ; 'Take pity on them; see, they are only children, friendless except for you.

' ;' Promise me this, Great Prince, and give me your hand in token of it. ' ; 'No! Do not take them from me!' (Sophocles 834-35). The hero provided the ancient Greeks the belief that in some chosen person " humanity is capable of superhuman greatness... that a human being may at times magnificently defy the limits imposed on our will by the fear of public opinion, of community action, even of death, may refuse to accept humiliation and indifference and impose his will no matter what the consequences to others and to himself' (Knox 57). This unyielding resolve to accept his doom, 'no matter what the consequences to others and to himself,' to bestow meaning to his life, gives the hero 'a dignity, a nobility, and a grandeur that do not tarnish with the passage of time. When he is most vulnerable, he is most noble' (Rosenberg 39).

Juanico 7 What about Oedipus's fate? If fate victimized Oedipus, then he is not a tragic figure since he would be just a mere puppet of destiny. Ido not subscribe to this view. I believe that Oedipus is a tragic figure because it is his own heroic qualities, his loyalty to Thebes, and his fidelity to the truth that ruined him. Even though he is warned many times to stop seeking for the truth, he keeps on searching. Moreover, he is ignorant of the circumstances surrounding his birth (hamartia), which is another reason that makes him a tragic figure.

Aristotle explains that the nature of the tragic character is that of a person who is eminently just and good, but whose misfortune is brought about not by some vice or depravity but by error, ignorance, or frailty. Oedipus fits this description perfectly. According to E.R. Dodds, author of the essay 'On Misunderstanding the Oedipus Rex,' the story of Oedipus fascinates us because of the spectacle of a man freely choosing, from the highest motives, a series of actions which lead to his own ruin. Oedipus might have left the plague to take its course; but pity for the sufferings of his people compelled him to consult Delphi. When Apollo's word came back, he might still have left the murder of Laius un investigated; but piety and justice required him to act.

He need not have forced the truth from the reluctant Theban herdsman; but because he cannot rest content with a lie, he must tear away the last veil from the illusion in which he had lived so long. Teiresias, Jocasta, and the herdsman, each in turn tries to stop him, but in vain: he must read the last riddle, the riddle of his own life. (23) Juanico 8 Yet it seems to me that fate has dealt Oedipus a bad hand right from the start. The royal House of Thebes has a long history of undeserved misfortune starting with the founder and Oedipus's great-great-grandfather, Cadmus, and his wife, Harmonia.

They were both turned into snakes by the gods. All four of their daughters we revisited with great misfortune. One daughter, Semele, was killed by the splendor of Zeus. Ino, another daughter, committed suicide by leaping down from a cliff with her dead son, who was killed by her mad-stricken husband, in her arms. Agave, the most, was driven mad into thinking that her son was a lion, and she killed him with her own hands. Auto noe, the last daughter, had to endure the death of his son, who was turned into a stag by Artemis and later was felled by his own hounds.

Edith Hamilton, author of Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes, admits that these members of the House of Thebes were innocent, but their fate was not punishment rather 'proof that suffering was not punishment for wrongdoing; the innocent suffered as often as the guilty' (256). Believe that Oedipus inherited the curse of the House of Thebes. Oedipus, after knowing the ghastly truth, cries, 'I, Oedipus... damned in his birth, in his marriage damned, damned in the blood he shed with his own hands!' (Sophocles 828). After blinding himself, he questions his fate: God.

God. What has God done to me? (Sophocles 831) The chorus sings Oedipus's fate after he rushes into the palace: Child by Laius doomed to die, Then doomed to lose that fortunate little death, Juanico 9 Would God you never took breath in this air That with my wailing lips I take to cry: For I weep the world's outcast. (Sophocles 829) Furthermore, the prophesy proclaimed by the oracle is unconditional, and what the oracle foretells is 'inevitably and inexorably bound to happen no matter what Oedipus may have done to avoid it (Dodds 21).

In conclusion, I want to reiterate my belief that Oedipus was a victim of fate, but he was no puppet because he freely and actively sought his doom though he was warned many times not to pursue it. His past actions may have been determined by fate, but what he did in Thebes he did so as a free individual. He claimed full responsibility, as a hero would, when Choragos asked what god drove him to blind himself: 'Apollo. Apollo. Dear children, the god was Apollo. He brought my sick, sick fate upon me.

But the blinding hand was my own!' (Sophocles 831). Sophocles ends this tragic story by warning us not to take anything for granted lest we suffer like Oedipus: Men of Thebes: look upon Oedipus. This is the king, who solved the famous riddle And towered up most powerful of men. No mortal eyes but looked on him with envy, Yet in the end ruin swept over him. Let every man in mankind's frailty Consider his last day; and let none Presume on his good fortune until he find Life, at his death, a memory without pain.

(836) Juanico 10 Works Cited Dodds, E.R. 'On Misunderstanding the Oedipus Rex. ' Twentieth Century Interpretations of Oedipus Rex: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. Michael J. O'Brien. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968.17-29. Hamilton, Edith.

Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. New York: Penguin Books, 1940. Kitto, H.D.F. The Greeks. New York: Penguin Books, 1951. Knox, Bernard M.W. The Heroic Temper: Studies in Sophoclean Tragedy. Berkeley: U of California Press, 1964.

Nagle, Brendan D. The Ancient World: A Cultural and Social History. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1979. Rosenberg, Donna. World Mythology: An Anthology of the Great Myths and Epics. Illinois: Passport Books, 1988. Sophocles.

'Oedipus Rex. ' An Introduction to Literature, 11th ed. Eds. Sylvan Barnet, et al. New York: Longman, 1997.800-836. Some Definitions of Greek Terms hubris: wanton insolence, arrogance from pride, violent anger; presumption (originally toward the gods); excessive self- confidence. hamartia: to fail of one's purpose, to go wrong (originally, to miss the mark, target), error, mistake in judgment; Aristotle: error derived from ignorance of some material fact or circumstance (ignorance combined with absence of wicked intent). tragedy: an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in the form of action... : through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions and; plot is the first principle, the soul of tragedy; most important of all is the structure of the incidents. nature of the tragic character: Aristotle: the change of fortune must presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought from prosperity to adversity, for this moves neither pity nor fear: it merely shocks us.

Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity to prosperity, for nothing can be more alien to the moral sense nor calls forth pity or fear. Nor, again, should the downfall of the utter villain be exhibited. A plot of this kind would, doubtless satisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear, for pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune... There remains, then, the character between these two extremes-that of a man who is eminently good and just. Yet whose misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity but by some error or frailty.

Taken from one of Dr. Rhoda Sirlin's handouts in her Introduction to Literature class. Tragedy was performed in Athens at the annual festival of Dionysus, the Great, or the City, Dionysia in late March. Competition was held on three successive mornings of the festival. Three tragic poets, who had been selected earlier in the year, each presented a tetralogy, consisting of three tragedies and a satyr play. Additional festivities included comic and dithyrambic contests, religious processions and rituals of various kinds. At the close of the festival ten judges chosen by lot determined the winners and awarded the prizes.

The poets wrote the plays, composed accompanying music, directed the production, supervised rehearsals, and in earlier times acted the role of the protagonist. The chore gus, who paid the cost of the production, was a wealthy citizen appointed by the government to do this public service. In turn the chore gus shared the praise and the awards won by the poet. Tickets were originally free since attendance was seen as a civic and religious obligation as well as entertainment. Eventually there was a charge for the tickets; however, the state provided funds for citizens who could not afford the price.

Tragedy developed from ancient dithyramb or choral lyric, which was sung by the male chorus in honor of the god Dionysus at his annual festivals. Performances included group dancing and some brief dialogue between the leader and the chorus. The dithyramb was at first a crude improvisation based on the myths about Dionysus; it may have taken the form of a rough burlesque or satire from the satyr play. In time it came to have a more formal, artistic structure and its content was expanded to include stories from the whole legendary tradition. Radical transformation in approach, a serious philosophical approach, replaced the older boisterousness. The addition of an actor allowed more complicated and lengthy stories to be included.

Thespis, the father of drama, first used an actor in his productions, and was responsible for several innovations. In 534 B.C. Thespis put on his first tragedy at the festival of Dionysus at Athens. Aeschylus wrote the first tragedy in the sense the word is used today. Tragic performances remained an important element in the civic worship of Dionysus. The dithyramb also developed along independent lines as a choral medium. The plots were taken from the great cycles of mythology.

Myths and legends recorded what was thought to be the collective social, political and religious history of the people. These stories included many problems of human life and the nature of the gods. The custom requiring use of these mythological stories in tragedy satisfied an essential requirement of the religious function of the drama, for it enabled the poets to deal with subjects of great moral dignity and emotional significance. From a dramatic point of view, the use of plots and characters already familiar to the audience gave the poets many opportunities for the use of irony and subtle allusions that are not available to the modern playwright. Theaters were built in the open air, and were sometimes quite large; the Theater of Dionysus at Athens had 17,000 seats.

They were usually built in hollowed out hillsides, insuring excellent acoustics. The thea tron was the area in which the audience sat; horseshoe-shaped, the rows of seats rose upward and backward in tiers. The first row of seats were stone thrones for principal citizens and the priest of Dionysus. The orchestra, the dancing place of the chorus, was a circular area at ground level, enclosed on three sides by the U-shaped thea tron. The thy mele in the center of the orchestra was an altar to Dionysus on which sacrifices were made. The altar was sometimes used as a stage prop during plays.

The right and left entrance passages were called the. The chorus assembled in the orchestra after marching in through the right or left parados, and remained there during the rest of the performance. The flute player and occasional harpist who provided musical accompaniment for the tragedies generally sat in a corner of the orchestra. Situated on the side of the orchestra, which formed an open end to the thea tron, was a wooden building, the scene, used as a dressing room for actors. Its facade was usually made to resemble a palace or temple, which served as a backdrop for the action of the play.

The three doors of the scene were used for entrances and exits. The level area in front of the scene was called the proscenium. The proscenium was where the action of the plays took place; there was no curtain. Although the proscenium may have been raised one step higher than the orchestra, there was no elevated stage. There were items of technical equipment in use. For special effects there were devices for imitating lightning and the sound of thunder, and there were other noise makers.

The was a wheeled platform which was rolled out of the scene to reveal a tableau of action which had taken place indoors, mainly scenes of violence. The "machine" was a kind of derrick that could be mounted on the roof of the scene and was used to bring about the miraculous appearance of the gods. The actors, all male, wore elaborate formal costumes and masks that emphasized the dominant traits of the characters they were impersonating. They had to be competent singers because many of their lines were chanted to music. The mode of action was conventional and stylized rather than naturalistic.

The acting could not have been too artificial since many scenes called for lively, realistic action, by their standards, if not by ours. The chorus, the nucleus from which tragedy evolved, continued to have a central place in the drama throughout classical times. The use of the chorus varied depending on the method of the playwright and the needs of the play being performed. The chorus often acted as the "ideal spectator", as in Oedipus Rex, wherein it clarifies the experiences and the feelings of the characters in everyday terms and expresses the conventional attitude toward the developments in the story. In general the tragedians used the chorus: one, to create its odes; two, to introduce and question new characters; three, to point out significance of events as they occurred; four, to establish facts; five, to affirm the outlook of society: and, six, to cover the passage of time between events; seven, to separate episodes. At a typical performance of tragedy in the fifth century, the chorus marched into the orchestra chanting the parados and remained there until the end of the play.

At various points it divided into semi-choruses and moved around the orchestra to suit the requirements of the play, but its most important moments came when it sang the choral odes to music, accompanied by the stylized gestures and a series of intricate group dances. At times the chorus also engaged in lyrical dialogue, , with one of the characters and made brief comments or inquiries during the course of an episode. The trend in tragedy was toward a decline in the importance of the chorus. This was caused mainly by the introduction of additional actors and increasing sophistication in their dramatic use, and by the more personal and complex nature of the stories chosen for dramatization. With the passage of time the proportion of choral to individual lines decreased significantly, and the dramatic functions of the chorus, aside from the continued use of choral odes, which were performed between episodes, were greatly reduced. Classical tragedies were composed within a definite structural framework, although there were occasional minor variations in some plays.

Greek tragedy was performed without intermissions or breaks. The Prologue is the opening scene, in which the background of the story is established, usually by a single actor, or in a dialogue between two actors. The Parados was the entrance of the chorus, usually chanting a lyric which bore some relation to the main theme of the play. The Episode is the counterpart of the modern act or scene, in which the plot is developed through action and dialogue between the actors, while the chorus sometimes plays a minor role. The Sta simon, a choral ode, came at the end of each episode so that the tragedy is a measured alternation between episode and choral comment. The Exodus was the final action after the last sta simon, ended by the ceremonial exit of all the players.

"Each culture must necessarily possess its own destiny-idea. Each culture is nothing but the actualizing and form of a single, singularly constituted soul. The sense-actual person of Oedipus, his empirical ego, is hunted and thrown by Destiny. Oedipus complains that Creon misused his "body" and the oracle applied to his "body".

There is no pure-soul agony in Oedipus. The West developed Character-Drama; the Greeks developed Situation Drama, what man feels as the basic life form is what is imperiled by the onset of tragedy and fate. It is time that is tragic, and it is the meaning that one Culture differentiated from the other. The Classical mind developed tragedy of a moment; the West developed a whole life as tragedy. The West saw an inexorable Logic of Becoming; the Greeks saw an illogical, blind Casual of the Moment".

1 Kitto discusses a permanent feature of Greek thought-that the universe, both the physical and moral universe, must not only be rational, and therefore knowable, but also simple; the apparent multiplicity of physical things is only superficial. 2 The Greek is not trying to give a representative picture of life, but to express one conception as forcibly and as clearly as he can. 3 Greek plays are built on a single conception and nothing that does not directly contribute is to admitted. 4 Oedipus expresses not so much man's guilt or exile, as his ineluctable lot, the stark realities, which are and always will be.

In Greek tragedy there is little pining for a lost Golden Age, or yearning for utopia, red emotion, or heavenly restitution. But if it stresses man's fate, it does not deny him freedom. Dramatic action assumes freedom; without it no tragedy can be written. Oedipus is less concerned with ultimate things than with things here and now; less with man and the gods as they should be than with man and the gods as they are. The Greeks had no One God, no Code, no Covenant, or sacred Scriptures. Though they knew their gods had a part in every breeze that blew, in every vital force, and in every human action, the nature of divine participation in human affairs was unpredictable.

One did not know why at any moment happiness or safety or plenty would be denied. The ways of the gods were reflected in the precarious and uncertain conditions of existence. Legends told of changes of dynasty even in heaven. Though some gods behaved better than others toward man, the Greeks expected perfect justice from none of them. Piety consisted in doing nothing to anger the gods, and in pleasing, or appeasing them through offerings. A Greek's fondest wish was that the gods would leave him alone.

Fate, to which in a mysterious way the gods themselves were subject, was an impersonal force decreeing ultimate things only, and unconcerned with day by day affairs. Beyond this Greek theology did not go. The State could regulate religious festivals and in times of political tension try a Socrates for atheism. The Homeric tales helped mold and guide the Greek imagination, but each individual, each new poet or philosopher made of them what he could. They combine many useful truths: how heroes behaved, what heroic virtues were, and how to be a good Greek, but not the Truth of Revelation. The Greeks could be said to have an open society, as the Hebrews in their Decalogue and Prophecy did not.

This dangerous freedom added an unique terror to the Greek tragic vision, but at the same time made the Greek drama possible. The terror lay in this: that, in extremity, the individual man was singularly un accommodated and alone; he could not trust in the goodness of God or abide under the shadow of the Almighty; he could expect no recompense for a blameless life, nor, if he had sinned, could he put any hope in repentance and a contrite heart. But if there were no orthodoxy to comfort and sustain him, there was none either to confine or circumscribe. Greek culture nourished an atmosphere hospitable to drama, which became at its height an important medium of instruction in the deepest matters of human life and destiny. Here the Greek could witness the disparate elements of his life brought together in a viable aesthetic-if not moral-synthesis. What the materials of the Greek religion-myth, folklore, legend-did with these disparate elements was so contradictory and / or sketchy that for the thoughtful Greek it must have given cause for little more than a quiet speculation or quiet amusement. but the very formlessness of these materials gave good cause to the Greek tragic theaters, where in the presence of the gods themselves the tragedies brought them into formal and vital relationship with the affairs of man.

The poets submitted their culture to the same critical and creative process that the poet of Job had exercised on the folk story. Out of the contradictions and conflicting claims of legend and myth, which in actual practice they saw making havoc of the lives of men, they too hammered out a new form. The political and social reforms of Pisistratus in the Sixth Century strengthened Athens in all ways, and gave it a new sense of dignity and power. His encouragement of the arts and the institution of the great festivals, at which in the next century the dramatic contests were held, prepared the way externally for tragedy. The victory at Marathon gave to the Athenians the same spur and tonic that Elizabethan England knew after the defeat of the Spanish Armada. National vitality and nerve, essential to creativeness of any sort, were high.

The threat from the East, though successfully overcome, brought about a crisis in Athenian affairs in which, as in any war situation, traditional values were brought into new focus; a new way of thinking and a new self-consciousness emerged. Athenian democracy under Pericles, who built the Parthenon and the Proplyaea and counted Sophocles among his friends, provided the ideal milieu for their expression. Untold new possibilities were at hand, new discoveries were imminent. In war, politics, and trade, and the manual arts, the Greeks were learning what they could do; they were preparing to learn from the tragedians and the philosophers who they were. The Greek vision focused on the immediacy of experience and on the nature of man: Man is free, but fated, fated but free.

What qualities does he reveal? Through suffering, what does he learn, not about the gods, for they are simply "given", but about himself? Oepidus the King is Sophocles' farthest penetration into these mysteries. The story of Oedipus is of a man plunged suddenly from prosperity and power to ruin and disrepute. We see him at the height and the depth of his worldly fortunes. Oedipus, whom in the first scene the Priest calls "the first of men", to whom all knees are bent, is at the end of the play polluted, blind, banished from the land he ruled and loved and from the people who lovingly obeyed him.

The problem raised by this play is: is there justice in a world, where, for no reason clear to ethical understanding, the worst happens to the best? Oedipus can not be held accountable for his sufferings. He had faults of temper and pride and he made mistakes in judgment. But Sophocles does not present him as a guilty man. The slaying of his father was done in ambiguous circumstances and in ignorance of Laius' identity, nor did he know that Jocasta was his mother when he married her. The play presents a mystery, the stubborn and destructive stuff of experience as man meets it "on the way".

Why do such things happen? All attempts to rationalize the play, to remove the "secret cause" fail; Oedipus's earch for his own identity is of course capable of large extension. "Who am I?" is a variant of Job's "What is man?" The answer is not that Oedipus is a sinner being punished by righteous gods, or an innocent man trapped by unconscious sexual jealousy of his father or as the Chorus says finally, a man better off dead. The answer is in all that Oedipus says, does and becomes, all that is implicit in image and metaphor; all that is revealed through the rapid and relentless dialectic of the action. No analysis can convey more than a part of the rich meaning of the play. What emerges is not a doctrine or a system; it is rather an impression or sense of life.

The hard, discrete particularities are brought into a kind of unity, but it is ambiguous, precarious, un final. We are left with images that cling, that fascinate and horrify, attract and repeal, whose meanings cannot be stated precisely or ever fully reckoned. The meanings change and accrue with the advancing action, and afterwards in our thoughts. Sophocles, accepting the terms of Oedipus's situation as in the old story, sets him free, though fated, free to open his mouth in the midst of his afflictions. Oedipus speaks as much through actions as through words, and the precise or full meaning of what he does is forever beyond our reach. What mysterious dynamic within him impels him to pursue his quest so tenaciously?

No god was at his shoulders. Why did he blind himself? As he gives reason after reason, each one loses it cogency. At the end of the play much remains to be seen, to praise, to blame and much to wonder at. What we thought was impossible has happened. The destructive element has yielded more than destruction.

The first of the images that cling, and the play's first intimation of human condition, is the plague-stricken city of Thebes. It stands to the play as the afflictions of Job stands in The Book of Job. It is the permanent backdrop of the play, the steady reminder of the precariousness of our lot, of the blight man was born for. The play opens at the point of crisis in the city's affairs. Normal life is suspended and survival is threatened. Prayer and sacrifices have been unavailing.

The people turn in despair to Oedipus, who saved them from a similar fate before. But against this setting another situation unfolds, involving Oedipus not as king and savior but as an individual human being, a situation so horrible in its possibilities that the people, engrossed in the new revelation, all but forget their own afflictions. Predestination is not typical of Greek popular thought. Fate is something which is usually spoken of in the past tense; where the future is concerned, there is usually an alternative or uncertainty. Sophocles places no emphasis on determinism in this play, but he does stress the infallibility of the oracle of Apollo. See the second sta simon and the speech of the conservative Creon to Oedipus near the end of the play (l.

1445): "Aye, for thou thyself wilt now surely put faith in the god". Like ghosts and witches in Shakespeare, oracles and prophecies are employed primarily for the purpose of foreshadowing, for dramatic irony and for creating tragic atmosphere. The basic theme of Oedipus Rex is the irony of fate. No mortal man, no matter how powerful and wealthy, can be pronounced happy until he is dead; for no man, however wise, knows what tomorrow will bring. This is the burden of the last complete choral song and of the last lines of the play (which are sometimes called spurious). Oedipus confesses that he slew a man at the crossroads in anger.

He has angry clashes with Teiresias and Creon. Oedipus is guilty of pride and temper, injustice as a ruler and an unorthodox attitude toward seers and oracles. However (l. 1329), after the catastrophe, although Oedipus cites Apollo as the author of his misfortune, he does not charge the god with cruelty or injustice. Dramatic irony, the irony of fate, is the most important element in the play. It begins with the first appearance of Oepidus in his kingly robes and with his first words", I myself have come hither, Oedipus, famous among all men".

The pitiful townspeople have appealed for aid to the one who is in reality the cause of their woe. Teiresias is the blind man who sees, Oedipus the seeing man who is blind. Oedipus welcomes the information Creon brought him from Delphi. His optimism, his zeal to carry out all the commands of Apollo and to punish the murderer of Laius is ironical. At the beginning of the next episode, Oedipus ironically curses the murderer of Laius (ll.

258-65). Examining the structure of the play we notice the inevitability and rapidity of the plot's progression. Nothing can be omitted; nothing really pertinent can be added. Each incidence with the exception of the entirely plausible arrival of the messenger from Corinth follows naturally from what precedes and leads inevitably to what follows. The play is marked off into six sections by five choral songs, These vary in length from 76 to 350 lines.

The opening scene (the pro logos, 150) opens in medias res; the small amount of exposition given is wholly incidental. The appeal of the townspeople to Oedipus really begins the play. Complication start with the entrance of Creon and with his report. The characterization of Oedipus is also an important function of this scene.

Oedipus shows himself to be just, merciful, successful, religious, a prince, a father to his country. Oedipus' pride is evident in his first lines. After Creon's report Oedipus expresses his suspicions that bribery from Thebes emboldened the thieves who slew Laius, and he suspects the same party would like to put him out of the way in similar fashion. These suspicions prepare for the later erroneous conviction of Oedipus that an intrigue exists between Creon and Teiresias.

The first section of the play ends with Oedipus' resolve to search out and punish the murderer and with his command that the Thebans be summoned before him, a nice motivation for the appearance of the chorus. The chorus now enters (parados, l. 65); they first express their trepidations at the messages from the oracles, and then invoke several gods to come to their aid. Then they describe the plague and the suffering and death which it brings, again they pray for help. They ask the god of death be driven out by Zeus, lastly invoking Apollo, Artemis and Dionysus to fight in their behalf, "against the god who has no honor among the gods". These opening choral songs furnish what might be called the emotional exposition of the play.

The next section (the first episode, 247 lines) opens with Oedipus reassuring the chorus somewhat too confidently, as if he could answer their prayers now as he did when he solved the riddle of the Sphinx. Exhorting them to aid him in the search for the murderer of Laius, he proclaims his curse upon the murderer with dreadful irony, interdicts him from concourse with Thebans and emphasizes his own zeal in the cause. The chorus insist they are without a clue but they suggest Teiresias be consulted. Oedipus has already sent for Teiresias on the instigation of Creon, an important bit of information, for the fact that Creon first offers this suggestion later makes Oedipus, already suspicious of political intrigue, surmise that Creon is the latter and thus prepares for Creon's re-entrance.

Just before Teiresias enters the chorus praises his infallibility. This character preparation adds to his dignity and, by assuring us that Teiresias speaks the truth, emphasizes the irony of Oedipus's kepticism and suspicions of treachery. The bitter quarrel that follows has several important effects. It brings out certain unattractive features in Oedipus' character, his wrath and his unjust haste to condemn without evidence.

The portrayal of these features is important, for they perhaps explain in part his slaughter of Laius, and they certainly furnish some moral justification for the downfall of Oedipus. The quarrel serves also to recall Creon into the action, who, in turn, naturally brings in Jocasta, his sister and wife to Oedipus, and it furnishes the motivation of Jocasta's all important story of the death of Laius. Most significant of all, perhaps, the dire predictions of Teiresias first name Oedipus himself as the slayer and prepare Oedipus to be thoroughly shaken when he hears that Laius was slain where three roads meet. Oedipus loses all patience and without the slightest shred of evidence accuses Teiresias of the murder.

Teiresias responds by immediately accusing Oedipus. His accusation, therefore, seems not a seer's prophecy but the mere return of Oedipus' angry abuse. So the chorus at this point interpret the accusations of both Oedipus and Teiresias as angry retorts (l. 404-5).

The episode ends with Teiresias pronouncing his prophecy-though for Oedipus this is essentially a repetition of the oracle given him long ago at Delphi. Now for the third time he hears the prophecy in language, which is as ominous as it is plain and unmistakable. Thus the emphasis of the whole episode is placed upon its most significant content. The chorus now sing their first song after completing their entrance (first sta simon, 50 lines). In spirited measure they wonder who the murderer may really be and poetically imagine his futile efforts to escape the inevitable revenge of Apollo. In more passionate strain, they confess they are dreadfully troubled by the words of Teiresias but know nothing that confirms the charge.

The gods have true knowledge but there is no certain evidence the seer knows more than other men; and they will never condemn Oedipus without proof, for he has formerly been the savior of the state. The second episode (350 lines) begins with a quarrel between Creon and Oedipus. Here Oedipus expresses a very tyrannical and offensive theory of autocratic rule. The injustice of Oedipus here is very different from the calmness and justice of Creon in the final scene of the play. Although the quarrel seems to threaten a complication extraneous to the basic plot, it really advances the plot, for Jocasta naturally comes in as an arbiter between her brother and her husband. The scenes of the quarrel differ in tone and subject from the revelations of Jocasta, but all three scenes are properly included in one section of the play.

If they had been divided by a choral song the play's movement would have been retarded. Jocasta's intervention leads to Oedipus' reviewing his case against Creon, especially the declaration by Teiresias that Oedipus is the murderer of Laius. The other prophecies are not related. They might more quickly suggest the true identity of Oedipus to Jocasta.

Mention of Teiresias' prophecy leads to Jocasta's ironic effort to prove the prophecies and oracles are all untrustworthy by citing the oracle given to Laius. In her story Jocasta mentions one fact that strikes Oedipus forcefully: Laius was murdered at a place where three roads met. Oedipus' optimism has been checked by the quarrels with Teiresias and Creon; but now, though Jocasta's tale was designed to allay all these fears, he conceives his first real apprehension. Now he realizes he is within the toils and the remainder of the play is taken up with the frantic and pitiful efforts of Jocasta and himself to free him. But with growing horror the audience realize that every move, though it may seem to promote release, really binds the victim more tightly. If Jocasta had not long ago resolved to put no faith in oracles and if Oedipus had not been so prejudiced and infuriated at the pronouncements of Teiresias, one or both must have seen that the oracle which which Oedipus now relates supplements the oracle given to Laius.

It also agrees with the prophecy of Teiresias; but this fact might have caused Oedipus to be even more skeptical of Teiresias, as if the seer was repeating an old oracle to embarrass him. Now, however, Oedipus has begun to suspect that he is the murderer of Laius; the time, the place, and the appearance of Laius and his followers all coincide, but Oedipus was traveling alone and thought he had killed every man in the party, whereas Laius was said to have been slain by a band of robbers or wayfarers (l. 292) and one member of the party escaped. Even the language in which Creon has first reported the oracle suggests that more than one man was responsible for the murder (l. 107). Oedipus still believes himself the son of Polybus and Merope of Corinth.

Oedipus, thoroughly shaken, anticipates his wretchedness if the man whom he slew was akin to Laius. His anxiety naturally leads to the summoning of the surviving witness. Jocasta, however, insists that the man's story, known to all, cannot now be changed; and, instead of recognizing the truth, she here sees further proof of the untrustworthiness of oracles, for Apollo said Laius must die by the hand of his own child. Here on a note of false and ironic optimism, and as we await the story of the witness of Laius' death, the second episode ends.

(Second sta simon, 48 lines) In a reflective mood, the chorus now pray they may ever keep the divine and deathless laws of heaven. Insolence begets the tyrant, but at the very moment of its triumph insolence is hurled to utter destruction. Here the manner is reflecting on the insolent manner in which Oedipus has brought his unfounded charges against Creon, upon the unorthodox attitude of Jocasta toward oracles and prophecies and upon discussions of the pollutions of blood guilt and incest. In their second strophe and antistrophe, they curse those who show no reverence for the gods. Jocasta's orthodox prayer to Apollo, which begins the third episode (175 lines) shows that she has faith in the gods themselves and adds a necessary corrective after the extreme criticism of the chorus. The joyful messenger from Corinth appears almost immediately, as if in answer to the prayers.

Some preparation for his appearance has been made in the repeated mention of Polybus and of Corinth and in the story Oedipus relates of his early life. Jocasta is elated at the news of the death of Polybus, "father" of Oedipus and king of Corinth, for she interprets the news as releasing Oedipus from his predicted fate. Now for the third time Jocasta has cited such "proof", and with each repetition the irony of her words has become more apparent and more dreadful. But Oedipus is convinced that she is right, though he still fears wedlock with his mother.

Jocasta again attempts to reassure him by pointing out that many men in dreams have lain with their mothers but such dreams are best disregarded, forgotten (l. 981-82). This is the only hint of an Oedipus Complex in the play, and the adoption of this ugly phrase by modern psychology is unfortunate and misleading. The joy at the news at the death of Polybus is stifled when the messenger, like Jocasta earlier and with similarly ironical result, attempts to reassure Oedipus and to remove his fears concerning his mother. Oedipus is not the son of Polybus and Merope. He was exposed by a servant of Laius on Mount Cithaeron with his ankles pierced.

The effect which these words have on Oedipus stands out in sharp contrast with that which they produce on Jocasta, since this information constitutes full recognition for her, and she rushes into the palace with ominous words. Such an exit was a favorite device with Sophocles. So Eurydice withdraws in Antigone just before her suicide, and Deianira does so in the Trachiniae. For the moment Oedipus is saved by his pride.

Curiosity about his birth has been a primary motive in his life. It caused him to leave Corinth; it made him for an instant forget his wrath at Teiresias (l. 437), and now in his turmoil of spirit, it prevents him from recalling Jocasta's story of Laius' child and its exposure on a lonely mountain with his ankles pierced. This episode ends with Oedipus rejecting the ominous warning of Jocasta and expressing his determination to solve the riddle of Laius' death. Thus the subject of Oedipus' inquiry has shifted from the identity of Laius' murderer to his own identity. But the audience hardly realizes this, for they know the answer to both questions is the same.

The change is almost imperceptible, furthermore, because the preparation for this has been so subtle. Reference has been made to Oedipus' birth by Teiresias. Then too Oedipus himself has related his history. But most important of all the dramatist has facilitated this shift by making the servant who exposed the infant identical with the surviving attendant who witnessed Laius' death. Thus the resolving character of both inquiries is the same person and both inquiries are solved at the same time so that an earlier and unnecessary discovery is avoided and the plot is more neatly unified. Sophocles has also made the shepherd who gave the infant to Polybus identical with the messenger from Corinth.

This could be rationalized by assuming the man who originally found Oedipus would be most interested in his future welfare and in bringing good news to him. Simplification of minor details adds greater emphasis to major ones. The third sta simon (24 lines), the following choral song is very short since Oedipus remains on the stage, tensely waiting the arrival of the shepherd who exposed him at birth and who witnessed the death of Laius. To a gay and lively measure, the chorus dances and sings of Mount Cithaeron as the nurse of Oedipus, and then they speculate on which of the gods was his sire and who was his mother.

An ironically joyful song just before the catastrophe, such as this, is a favorite device of Sophocles. The fourth episode is the shortest section of the play (76 lines). Jocasta is gone and Oedipus faces his cruel destiny alone-a magnificent climax to the play. The tortured reluctance of the herdsman), nicely contrasting with the eagerness of the messenger from Corinth, is finally overcome. The iambic lines at the climax are divided between speakers, and most skillfully divided. Of the first divided line, Oedipus is given two-thirds and the reluctant slave only two words; the next two lines are divided approximately in halves; but of the following line the horrified Oedipus has only one word, while the slave completes the recognition with the rest of the line.

Oedipus winces in this scene, but nowhere is his masculine honesty more clearly portrayed. Unlike Jocasta in her final words, Oedipus is determined to have the whole truth, no matter how disastrous the truth may be. His recognition of his identity constitutes the reversal of his fortune. From his final lines, in which he prays now for the last time to look upon the light of day, we might expect his suicide if we had not heard the prophecy of Teiresias.

The chorus begins the lament for the fate of Oedipus in unusually weighty and solemn measure (fourth sta simon, 37 lines). As frequently in Greek tragedy, the fate of the hero is generalized into the fate of all mankind. No human can be counted purely blessed if such a one as Oedipus, after achieving the pinnacle of worldly good fortune and saving the state, is thus destroyed. The second part of the song is a dirge over the dreadful fate of Oedipus, ending in a wish they had never laid eyes on him; for though he once saved them, he has not brought them to grief. The final section (exodus, 308 lines) is essentially an epilogue to the main plot, for the tragedy is practically complete with Oedipus' discovery of his identity.

The messenger reveals the house is polluted with such ills that not even the great rivers of the Danube and the Rion (Phasis) could wash it clean, a simile that flows through Seneca to Macbeth (II, ii, 60). This report prepares for the shocking sight of the blinded Oedipus. Here again a lengthy section includes several scenes. Rapidity is highly desirable after the catastrophe. The rhythmic monotony of the iambic lines is broken by a lyric exchange between Oedipus and the chorus. A more important result of the employing of lyrics the meters here as elsewhere are most subtly adapted.

At the first horrifying appearance of the blinded Oedipus, the chorus breaks out in a lament in simple anapestic meter. The woeful cries of Oedipus begin in the same meter, primarily a marching meter and well suited to accompany an entrance. The chorus now drops back into the simplest subdued iambic meter, whereas Oedipus, in sharp contrast, laments in a most passionate meter. Verbal gemination adds to the pathos of the meter. At the very end of the play, Creon and Oedipus break into animated trochaic measure. These final scenes are designed primarily to impress the full import of the tragedy.

They suggest the miserable future of Oedipus and his children. The young girls add pathos to his downfall by their very presence, and by bringing out the more kindly aspects of his character. Thus after the catastrophe Sophocles presents his main character in the most favorable light. At the opening of the play Oedipus is rational, mature, admired, independent of others, while others are wholly dependent on him.

He has the power to curse the unknown criminal and therefore is nearly divine (confident of Apollo's will), sure of his strength and foresight. He is the self-assured king in search of the murderer of Laius, and after that in quest of his own identity, not knowing the powers of the forces he is confronting. His physical blinding coincides with the awakening of his spiritual vision into reality, and he turns to reliance on his daughter and his stick. Finally, at the end, be enters the palace, the proper secular dominion in which his birthright lay.

Crippled Oedipus appears before the Thebans leaning on a staff, a staff which indicates as much his present authority as the use he once made of it to kill his father. The staff is triply significant: one, as a support for his infirmity; two, as a sign of his political position; three, as an instrument of patricide. We also see there is a three-fold division of the people who come to seek Oedipus' help: children, old priests, and unmarried men stand before him (a reflection of the answer to the Sphinx's riddle). Women are absent because a blight has fallen upon all generations; a bloody tempest, says the priest of Zeus, threatens to swamp the city. The city wastes away in the unopened fruitful buds of the earth; it wastes away in the herds of grazing cows and in the abortive births of women. The plague of Thebes fits Oedipus' crimes; defective offspring are suppose to be the consequence of incest.

Oedipus neither understands the meaning of the plague nor sees anything defective in the delegation. His first words, "O children" suggests he understands himself as the father only in a metaphorical sense and is blind to the literal meaning of generation. The play therefore moves from the question of who killed Laius to that of who generated Oedipus. It moves from a political to a family crime, which is, paradoxically, from the less comprehensive to more comprehensive theme (l.

635). Tyranny links the political and the family crime. The choral ode (ll. 865-870) sees the tyrant as the transgressor of "laws that step on high, born in the heavenly aether, whose only father is Olympus, and which the mortal nature of men did not give birth to"; (l. 823-833,870) these laws are the prohibitions against incest and patricide. The tyrant's crimes are incest and patricide, for the tyrant's is the paradigm of the illegal, and illegality seems best exemplified in the two crimes that stand closest to the unnatural both in the family and in the city.

Oedipus violates equally the public and private with a single crime. He is the paradigm of the tyrant. Oedipus is a completely public man (l. 63) with no room for the private and secret (ll. 58-63); Oedipus suffers collectively for the city; the citizens suffer individually. The crippling was considered a sign of tyrannical ambition (878).

Oedipus' name, the sign of his defect, shows the general truth expressed in the riddle of the Sphinx does not apply to himself. His defect by placing him outside of the species-characteristic of man allowed him to see the species-characteristic. Oedipus has never reflected.