Oedipus the King – Footnotes
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Sophocles and Aristotle
In his 90 years of life Sophocles wrote more than 120 plays, but only seven have survived in a complete form: Ajax, Antigone, Women of Trachis, Oedipus Rex, Electra, Philoctetes, and Oedipus at Colonus. He was the most celebrated playwright of his time, as affirmed by his record in the drama competitions of Athens. He competed in thirty competitions, won twenty-four, and was never judged lower than second place. Of the other famous Greek tragedians, Aeschylus won thirteen competitions and Euripides won four.
His life spanned the fifth century BCE, from 496 to 406. This was an extraordinary time in the history of Athenian civilisation, that included wars with Persia and Sparta, the building of the Parthenon, and the start of the golden age of Athenian democracy. During his lifetime Sophocles rubbed shoulders with the politician Pericles, the philosopher Socrates, the historians Herodotus and Thucydides, as well of course as his fellow dramatists, Aeschylus and Euripides.
As Edith referenced in our conversation, Sophocles’ dramatic reputation was later championed by Aristotle, who in his Poetics published in c 335 BCE, cited Oedipus Rex as an example of the highest achievement in tragedy. There are several features that Aristotle proposed were essential to tragedy. In terms of plot and character, two requisite ingredients are that the drama must arouse a fear for what might befall the hero, and a pity for the hero’s suffering after his downfall. It is safe to say that we feel both of these things in Oedipus. He also specified that discovery and denouement must occur in the story; that actions in the plot should follow logically from what has happened before, as well as from the character of the hero. All of which comprise Oedipus’ tragic journey of discovery. Interestingly, Aristotle also highlighted the superior intensity of tragic drama compared to epic poetry, because as Edith pointed out the presented narrative is concentrated into a much shorter time.
There are two further ingredients that Aristotle proposed must be organic in a tragic plot: Reversal (or peripeteia) and Recognition (anagnorisis). Reversal occurs when a character’s actions produce the opposite effect to what is intended. The Corinthian messenger who brings Oedipus the news of his father’s death, for example, intends that this will reassure him, but his revelation that Merope is not his birth mother has the opposite result. It could also be argued that all of Oedipus’ efforts to discover the truth turn out to be the reverse of what he intended or hoped for. Aristotle claimed that the tragic effect was heightened in Oedipus because the supreme moments of reversal and recognition coincide. It is hard to disagree about the dramatic impact of these moments of ironic discovery.
Cast of a bust of Sophocles in the Pushkin Museum.
CC BY-SA 3.0
Roman copy (in marble) of a Greek bronze bust of Aristotle
by Lysippos (c. 330 BC)
Oedipus and the Sphinx,
by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres
1808–27, Louvre, Paris
Oedipus and the riddle of the Sphinx
Many years before Sophocles’ play begins, Oedipus arrives at the city of Thebes to find it besieged by the ferocious Sphinx. The Sphinx is a beast with the head and breasts of a woman, the body of a lioness, and the wings of an eagle. Perched on a hill, it was devouring Thebans and passing travellers one by one, if they could not solve her riddle. The riddle was: “What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?”. Oedipus answered: “Man: as an infant, he crawls on all fours; as an adult, he walks on two legs and; in old age, he uses a ‘walking’ stick”. The Sphinx throws herself from a cliff in shame, and Oedipus’ reward is the kingship to the city.
Another footnote is that the name Oedipus means ‘swollen foot’ in Greek, which refers to the clamps that the baby was bound by around his ankles when he was set to be left to die on the mountainside.
The Theban chorus
The chorus in Sophocles’ play would conventionally have been composed of fifteen male members, who speak, dance and sing in unison. Their purpose is to enhance the audience’s understanding of the play. In practical terms, they also provided time for the two or three actors to change their masks and costumes.
They are simultaneously a spectator of the action and affected by it, and occasionally even intervene. They debate with the characters, and even try to advise them of the best course of action. For example, they urge Oedipus not to condemn Creon following his false accusation of Tiresias. They generally act as moral arbiters, passing judgement as the action unfolds, as well as proffering philosophical wisdom. They enact the role of judge and jury in a sense, particularly in this play which unfolds very much like a case at trial. There are times when Oedipus tries to convince them of the necessity of his actions.
As Edith stressed in the podcast, in Oedipus the King, the chorus is composed of citizens of the city of Thebes, so that it represents the voice of the people. In the political context of the play, they are the advocates of democracy, who warn against Oedipus’ hubris. They remind us of the collective impact of tragedy, providing a connection between the rulers and the people, individuals and the whole community. When they first appear in the play, for example, they cry impassioned prayers to the Gods, describing their sufferings, and pleading for mercy and healing.
At the end of the play, they offer a metaphysical commentary, singing a great ode that reflects on the existential wretchedness of mortal life.
Alas! you generations of men!
Even while you live you are next to nothing!
Has any man won for himself
More than the shadow of happiness,
A shadow that swiftly fades away?
Cecilia Noble as Tiresias
Oedipus at the Old Vic Theatre, London
February 2025
Photo by Manuel Harlan
Tiresias
We talked in the podcast about the possible political interpretations of the play, and Edith suggested that the Athenians would have recognised the challenge that Oedipus represented to the tenets of their democracy. One of the vested political powers of ancient Greek society was their religion, and its spokespeople, the prophets, such as Tiresias. Jocasta questions the veracity of the prophets, but I assume that the Ancient Greek audience would not have doubted Tiresias. The oracles’ pronouncements were an acknowledged authority, as perhaps the Vatican has been for Christians in more recent times, as one critic suggested.
Tiresias is a magnetic character – full of mystery and power. In his scene with Oedipus he initially does not want to speak of what he knows – but Oedipus pesters him, even enrages him, by accusing him of being complicit with Creon. Tiresias asserts his independent authority, saying that he serves the God Apollo directly, not the mortal rulers, Oedipus or Creon.
Tiresias derides Oedipus for his failure to see the truth: “You sneer at my blindness. You have eyes but cannot see”. He taunts him further by talking in riddles: that Oedipus passes as a foreigner in Thebes, but was actually born here; that he is brother and father to his children; that he is lover and son to the woman who bore him, and the killer of his father. The final irony is that Oedipus, the genius who solved the riddle of the Sphinx, cannot decipher the meaning of theses riddles this time.
Tiresias also predicts that Oedipus will be blind: “Those bright eyes, that perfect vision? You are so proud of, will become dark…Groping, with a stick in hand, Tapping his way, he will leave this city, Into endless exile.” Although it was foretold, Oedipus claims that his blinding himself is an act of free will. He says, “It was Apollo/…decreed that I should suffer what I suffer;/ But the hand that struck, alas! was my own”. He cannot bear to look upon his children, “Why should I have sight / When sight of nothing could give me pleasure…What have I left…to see, to cherish.” The messenger who reports on the terrible events of Jocasta’s death and Oedipus’ blinding, poignantly summarises the tragedy of their fate: “Of all our sufferings, those hurt the most that we ourselves inflict.”
113 – Arcadia by Tom Stoppard
Published 24th August
Tom Stoppard’s 1993 play, Arcadia is viewed by many as his finest play, renowned for the breadth of its intellectual interrogations and its formal invention. The play is a structural masterpiece of ideas, as well as a teasing detective story, joyous comedy, and emotionally rich exploration of love and loss.
As we record this episode a wonderful new production of Arcadia is playing at the Duke of York’s theatre in London’s West End, following its acclaimed run at the Old Vic theatre earlier this year. I am delighted to share the challenge and the pleasure of exploring Stoppard’s dazzling drama with the director of the new production, Carrie Cracknell.
112 – Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet
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David Mamet’s modern American classic, Glengarry Glen Ross, is a blistering commentary on the cut-throat reality of the American dream, and its poisonous impact on those who have bought into the myth and machismo of that dream. The play had its world premiere in the small Cottesloe theatre at the National Theatre in London in September 1983, and was first performed in New York the following year, winning the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Mamet also wrote the extended screenplay for the star-studded 1992 film version.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play was playing at the Old Vic theatre in London, with an all-female cast. This is a particularly provocative idea, because one of the primary themes of this play is masculine identity, and the salesmen in this Chicago office do not hold back in their display of machismo.
To explore Mamet’s unflinching slice of 1980s dog-eat-dog capitalism, I am joined by arts journalist Mark Lawson.
111 – The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui by Bertolt Brecht
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Bertolt Brecht’s ‘gangster spectacle’, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, is both an exuberant and funny piece of theatre, and a chillingly topical political satire. Set in the 1930s Chicago of Al Capone, Brecht presents a parody of the rise of Hitler through the character of the gangster Arturo Ui. The play is a universal cry for vigilance against the rise of unscrupulous, populist leaders who threaten democratic societies and global peace.
As we recorded this episode a new production of the play by the Royal Shakespeare Company was playing in Stratford-upon-Avon, starring Mark Gatiss as the title character.
I am delighted to be joined by both the show’s translator, playwright Stephen Sharkey, and by Brecht scholar, Professor Tom Kuhn, to guide us through Brecht’s political parody.
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