Bacchae by Euripides

*contains spoilers*

At the time of Euripides writing this piece, Bacchus, more commonly known as Dionysus, was only then just being integrated into the Greek pantheon from the Near East. In fact, the Bacchae story itself was already commonly known amongst the Greeks, and had been penned by the likes of Aeschylus, who, as you well know, preceded both Euripides and Sophocles. By that point, however, worshipping Dionysus was still in its embryonic stage, and what we see in this particular piece is Euripides addressing the two extremities, restraint and release, and how these two squared up on Dionysus’s introduction to Greek society. Much later on, nevertheless, after Euripides’s death, Dionysus was eventually established as the god of religious ecstasy, fertility, wine and prophecy. It also must be stated that Bacchae won Euripides the much-coveted first prize in the annual contest, though Euripides was unfortunately dead at this point – it would have been his first victory! Bacchae now stands as his most revered piece, alongside Sophocles’s Oedipus the King and Aeschylus’s Agamemnon in terms of relevance and notoriety.

The play begins, after Dionysus’s not-too-brief-self-introduction, with the ever-wise Teiresias, blind prophet of Apollo, getting all dressed up and ready to join in with the celebrations of Dionysus along with the former king of Thebes, Cadmus. Getting all dressed up for the ritual involves donning the fawnskin, known as the ‘sacred cloak’, and wielding the thyrsus, which is a giant fennel rod topped with a pinecone or ivy. That we see these two wise and authoritative characters engaging so enthusiastically with the Bacchic rites is no coincidence, and the theme of wisdom being twinned with a willingness to become involved in the release of the ritual is consistently hit upon throughout the play – though, as Dionysus himself proclaims, “a wise man should always keep a balanced and easy temper”. That we also see the god of cathartic release uttering such a proclamation only serves to further imbue a sense of irony alongside the willingness of such serious folk as Teiresias and Cadmus to get involved. Indeed, a sense of ridiculousness is present in the very fact that the actor portraying Dionysus would usually wear a mask with a huge smile on its face, which is also clearly indicative of the very essence of the nature of Dionysus: silly and serious.

Following Teiresias and Cadmus, comes the petulant new king of Thebes, Pentheus, grandson of Cadmus, who doubts the very validity of Dionysus’s status as a god. A little background on Dionysus before I continue any further: Zeus impregnated the mortal Semele, daughter of Cadmus, and in a jealous rage, as is her usual way, Hera tricked Zeus into visiting Semele so that she would burst into flames – but upon Semele’s incineration, Zeus rescued the still-growing Dionysus from her vaporising womb and sewed him up in his thigh. At the top of the play we see Dionysus return to his birthplace of Thebes, knowing that his cousin, Pentheus, does not believe Semele’s claim of being impregnated by Zeus, and, consequently, also does not recognise Dionysus’s status as a god. Pentheus literally means “sorrow”, and we see why much later in the play…

Pentheus is then introduced to Dionysus in disguise, and is offended by his liberal manner, his flowing hair – which he threatens to cut off – and his feminine ways, and so he imprisons him. Dionysus mocks Pentheus, and says that with Dionysus’s help he can walk free of the prison whenever he wishes it. As Pentheus locks him up, he finds that he has instead locked up a bull, which, along with the phallus, is the symbol of Dionysus, and Dionysus causes an earthquake that allows him to walk free after Pentheus attempts to stab him – the knife passes through Dionysus like a shadow; “I won my safety by myself, easily, effortlessly”. Following these events, we have a Messenger appear to tell Pentheus that none other than his own mother, Agave, is amongst the Bacchae (the female followers of Dionysus) up in the mountains, also referred to as the Maenads, which literally means “mad women”, and that they have apparently torn apart with their bare hands a herd of cows. Before sending in the military to deal with this maniacal and murderous group, Pentheus wants to see these crazed women for himself. Dionysus, having already arrived at the conclusion that Pentheus’s mind will not be altered into believing his status as a god, suddenly turns on Pentheus and convinces him to dress up as a woman. There is an element of comedy about this dressing up, as Pentheus cocks his leg and admires himself in his female attire, though this display is indicative of Dionysus’s resolute decision that Pentheus shall be stripped of his dignity on route to his tragic death.

As Dionysus becomes more excited, and as Pentheus falls further and further into a hallucinatory trance, which emasculates and strips him of his regal nobility, we see Euripides shift the dialogue into rapid couplets;

DIONYSUS: …for all to see. PENTHEUS: That is why I am going.

DIONYSUS: You will not return on foot… PENTHEUS: You want to pamper me.

What we see next is pure tragedy, as Dionysus leads Pentheus to the Bacchae, and calls the manic Maenads to tear him to pieces – literally. On returning to the palace, and after being guided out of her trance-like state by her father, Cadmus, Agave learns that she, herself, in her own ritualistic stupor, tore off her own son’s head. Agave is banished from Thebes by Dionysus, and Cadmus and his wife turned into snakes and told that they shall invade Greece with the barbarian hordes. Euripides saves his lasting comment on the vindictiveness of the gods, as Dionysus punishes all for Pentheus’s ignorance; “You have understood me too late”.