1 Doing Things with Words Together
In the mid-twentieth century, the American classicist G.M. Kirkwood wrote about the functioning of Sophoclean drama that it depended, more than in the cases of Aeschylus and Euripides, on âcharacter interactionâ.1 While I am not going to probe the claim concerning Aeschylus and Euripides, I will undertake a reading of a scene of a Sophoclean drama, the prologue of the Ajax (1â133), where I will pay close attention to the way the characters interact, utterance for utterance, and show how intimately the communicative mechanisms that are displayed in the charactersâ dialogue are tied up with the functioning of the prologue as a dramatic text.2
Looking at interaction means, first and foremost, being aware of the fact that dialogue is a joint product of the interlocutors involved, hence something they do together. Doing things together with words is where pragmaticsâor, for the sake of this paper, the concept of resonanceâenters the picture. Central to this concept, developed by the American linguist J.W. du Bois within his theory of dialogic syntax, is the insight that not only is a dialogue as a whole a joint product, but so is, to a certain extent, also every single contribution by the interactants.3 For, to understand the meaning of a single turn-at-talk, it is not sufficient to look at it by itself, but it needs to be considered in the light of what has been said before, i.e. of the material already present in the âhistoryâ of the dialogue (the âco-textâ) with which the speaker makes it âresoundâ:4 how does an interactant embed his or her contribution in the dialogue? How does he or she, at the different levels of syntax, semantics, and pragmatics, take up and make use of what has been said before and expand on it, thus adding new elements to the âhistoryâ of the conversation?5 I shall explain this by means of an example from the play under discussion. In the second half of the Ajax, Teucer and Menelaus argue about the latterâs denial of burial to Ajax. In their dispute, the following exchange occurs:6
[1a] Sophocles Ajax 1139â1141
Î¤ÎµÏ . οὠμᾶλλον, á½¡Ï á¼Î¿Î¹ÎºÎµÎ½, á¼¢ Î»Ï Ïá½µÏομεν.
Îεν. á¼Î½ Ïοι ÏÏá½±ÏÏÎ Ïόνδâ á¼ÏÏὶν οá½Ïὶ θαÏÏέον.
Î¤ÎµÏ . á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î½ÏακούÏηι Ïοῦθâ á¼Î½, á½¡Ï ÏεθάÏεÏαι.
Teu. To no more pain, I think, for me than for you.
Men. I will say one word to you; this man must not be buried!
Teu. But you shall hear one word in reply, that he shall be buried!
The pragmatic value of Menelausâ affirmation consists not only of his denial of Ajaxâs burial, but also of claiming unconditional authority by virtue of his word, as is shown by his breaking off the preceding discussion. Instead of continuing the discussion, he affirms without further argument, but with the metalinguistic expression âI will say one word to youâ, that Ajax will not be buried (note the verbal adjective θαÏÏέον 1140, âmust [not] be buriedâ).
Teucerâs riposte also dispenses with any supporting argument but states as a fact that Ajax will be buried. Thus, not only does he affirm his determination to bring about the burial, but he also challenges Menelausâ claim to authority by virtue of his word that he has made before. (Note that Teucer, as well, prefaces his affirmation with a metalinguistic utterance, viz. âBut you shall hear one word in replyâ, thus echoingâalso syntacticallyâMenelausâ âI will say one word to youâ.) Teucerâs contestation of Menelausâ claim to authority by virtue of his word is central to the entire exchange of the two men,7 and, in the excerpt just discussed, this contestation can be grasped by looking at resonance.
In order to visualise the relationships between single turns-at-talk, I will make use of typographic means. I will italicise elements taken up and print in bold new elements with which the interlocutors expand on the preceding dialogue (e.g. 1140 being bold means that Menelaus does conspicuously not engage with what has been said before, but breaks off the discussion):
[1b] Sophocles Ajax 1139â1141
Î¤ÎµÏ . οὠμᾶλλον, á½¡Ï á¼Î¿Î¹ÎºÎµÎ½, á¼¢ Î»Ï Ïá½µÏομεν.
Îεν. á¼Î½ Ïοι ÏÏá½±ÏÏÎ Ïόνδâ á¼ÏÏὶν οá½Ïὶ θαÏÏέον.
Î¤ÎµÏ . á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î½ÏακούÏηι Ïοῦθâ á¼Î½, á½¡Ï ÏεθάÏεÏαι.
Teu. To no more pain, I think, for me than for you.
Men. I will say one word to you; this man must not be buried!
Teu. But you shall hear one word in reply, that he shall be buried!
In the following, I am going to look at several instances of interaction in the prologue of the Ajax where participants engageâor ostentatively refuse to engage, which is, of course, also a sort of engagement (cf. Menelausâ line 1140 above)âwith the preceding âdialogue materialâ. Doing so will make it possible to better understand the clues Sophocles gives to his recipients,8 particularly how he creates audience involvement by the depiction of the ways his characters engage with preceding utterances.
2 The Participation Framework(s)
The Ajax starts with what is often called a dumb-show: a Greek warrior is seen lurking around a hut, looking to the ground, obviously searching for something. This warriorâOdysseusâis then joined by the goddess Athena. Their exchange starts as follows:
[2] Sophocles Ajax 1â17, 21â24, 31â35
Îθ. á¼Îµá½¶ μέν, ὦ ÏαῠÎαÏÏá½·Î¿Ï , δέδοÏκά Ïε
Ïεá¿Ïάν Ïινâ á¼ÏθÏῶν á¼ÏÏá½±Ïαι θηÏώμενονÎ
καὶ νῦν á¼Ïὶ Ïκηναá¿Ï Ïε Î½Î±Ï Ïικαá¿Ï á½Ïῶ
ÎἴανÏοÏ, á¼Î½Î¸Î± Ïάξιν á¼ÏÏá½±Ïην á¼Ïει,
Ïάλαι ÎºÏ Î½Î·Î³ÎµÏοῦνÏα καὶ μεÏÏούμενον
á¼´Ïνη Ïá½° ÎºÎµá½·Î½Î¿Ï Î½ÎµÎ¿Ïá½±ÏαÏθâ, á½ ÏÏÏ á¼´Î´Î·Î¹Ï
εἴÏâ á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î½ εἴÏâ οá½Îº á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î½. εὠδέ Ïâ á¼ÎºÏá½³Ïει
ÎºÏ Î½á½¸Ï ÎÎ±ÎºÎ±á½·Î½Î·Ï á½¥Ï ÏÎ¹Ï Îµá½ÏÎ¹Î½Î¿Ï Î²á½±ÏιÏ.
á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î½ Î³á½°Ï á¼Î½á½´Ï á¼ÏÏι ÏÏ Î³Ïάνει, κάÏα
ÏÏάζÏν ἱδÏῶÏι καὶ Ïá½³ÏÎ±Ï Î¾Î¹ÏοκÏá½¹Î½Î¿Ï Ï.
καί Ïâ οá½Î´á½²Î½ εἴÏÏ Ïá¿Ïδε ÏαÏÏαίνειν ÏύληÏ
á¼Ïâ á¼Ïγον á¼ÏÏίν, á¼Î½Î½á½³Ïειν δâ á½ ÏÎ¿Ï Ïá½±Ïιν
ÏÏÎ¿Ï Î´á½´Î½ á¼Î¸Î¿Ï Ïήνδâ, á½¡Ï ÏαÏâ Îµá¼°Î´Ï á½·Î±Ï Î¼á½±Î¸Î·Î¹Ï.
Îδ. ὦ Ïθέγμâ á¼Î¸á½±Î½Î±Ï, ÏιλÏá½±ÏÎ·Ï á¼Î¼Î¿á½¶ θεῶν,
á½¡Ï Îµá½Î¼Î±Î¸á½³Ï ÏÎ¿Ï , κá¼Î½ á¼ÏοÏÏÎ¿Ï á¼¦Î¹Ï á½ Î¼ÏÏ,
Ïώνημâ á¼ÎºÎ¿á½»Ï καὶ Î¾Ï Î½Î±ÏÏá½±Î¶Ï ÏÏενὶ
ÏαλκοÏÏá½¹Î¼Î¿Ï Îºá½½Î´ÏÎ½Î¿Ï á½¡Ï Î¤Ï ÏÏηνικá¿Ï.
[â¦]
Î½Ï ÎºÏá½¸Ï Î³á½°Ï á¼¡Î¼á¾¶Ï Ïá¿Ïδε ÏÏá¾¶Î³Î¿Ï á¼ÏκοÏον
á¼Ïει ÏεÏá½±Î½Î±Ï [sc. á½ ÎἴαÏ], εἴÏÎµÏ Îµá¼´ÏγαÏÏαι ÏάδεÎ
á¼´Ïμεν Î³á½°Ï Î¿á½Î´á½²Î½ ÏÏανέÏ, á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î»á½½Î¼ÎµÎ¸Î±Î
κá¼Î³á½¼ âθελονÏá½´Ï Ïῶιδâ á½Ïεζύγην ÏόνÏι.
[â¦]
εá½Î¸á½³ÏÏ Î´â á¼Î³á½¼
καÏâ á¼´ÏÎ½Î¿Ï á¼Î¹ÏÏÏ, καὶ Ïá½° μὲν Ïημαίνομαι,
Ïá½° δâ á¼ÎºÏá½³Ïληγμαι, κοá½Îº á¼ÏÏ Î¼Î±Î¸Îµá¿Î½ á½ ÏÎ¿Ï .
καιÏὸν δâ á¼ÏήκειÏÎ ÏάνÏα Î³á½°Ï Ïá½± Ïâ οá½Î½ Ïá½±ÏοÏ
Ïá½± Ïâ εἰÏá½³ÏειÏα Ïá¿Î¹ ÎºÏ Î²ÎµÏνῶμαι ÏεÏá½·.
Ath. Always, son of Laertes, my eye is on you as you prowl about to snatch some opportunity against your enemies; and now I see you by the hut of Ajax near the ships, where he occupies the last position, a long while on his trail and scanning his newly made footprints to see whether he is inside or not; moving like a Spartan hound with keen scent, you travel quickly to your goal. Yes, the man is now inside, his face and hands that have slaughtered with the sword dripping with sweat. And now you no longer need to peer inside this gate, but you must tell me what is the reason for your efforts, so that you may learn from me who knows.
Od. Voice of Athena, dearest of the gods to me, how easily do I understand your words and grasp them with my mind, even if I cannot see you, as though a Tyrrhenian trumpet spoke with brazen mouth. [â¦] during last night he [sc. Ajax] has perpetrated a thing appalling, if indeed he is the doer; we know nothing precise, but we are at sea, and I, as a volunteer, have been charged with this task. [â¦] and at once I darted off on the trail. Some things I can make out, but by others I am thrown off course, and I cannot discover [lit. âlearnâ] where he is. You have come opportunely; because as in the past, so in the future it is your hand that steers me.
What is of interest here for our purposes is the motif of âknowingâ and âlearningâ. It is brought up by Athena when she tells Odysseus to inform her on what he is up to, so that he may âlearnâ from her, who is âthe one who knowsâ. Odysseus reacts to this by first expressing how well he understands the voice of the goddess (he calls it εá½Î¼Î±Î¸á½³Ï, using a word that derives from the root of âlearnâ) to whom he is linked by a particular closeness that is already established in the Iliad (note that he calls her âthe dearest of the godsâ in line 14).9
Then, he goes on to describe the background of his quest: in the morning, the Greeks had seen that, during the night, someone had attacked and slain the cattle they had captured before Troy. This mysterious event had left them flabbergasted, as Odysseus says at line 23: âWe know nothing for certain, but we are at sea.â In this situation, however, the Greeks thought of Odysseus and gave him10 the task of elucidating the events that had taken placeâa task Odysseus energetically took on.11 Although he has made some progress, some things remain unclear to him, as he says at line 33: â[â¦] I am thrown off course, and I cannot discover [lit. âlearnâ] where he isâ. He then closes his remarks by coming back to his closeness to Athena which he mentioned in the beginning. He reminds her of the fact that she has already âsteeredâ him in the past in everything and is going to do so in the future as well. These two closing lines are, of course, an implicit request to Athena to deliver the information, as she had promised at the end of her turn.
If one now looks at the way in which Odysseus takes up as well as develops the motif of âknowingâ and âlearningâ, two things become clear: first, if he says that the Greeks at large âdonât know anything preciseâ and that he still has only partly made up for this deficit (33), he positions himself vis-Ã -vis Athena as representing the Greeks, thus enlarging the initial participation framework established by the goddess.12
Second, âknowing nothing preciseâ is not only the situation Odysseus and the Greeks find themselves in, it also describes the situation of an ancient audience at the beginning of a play: the mythical material, from which the poet derived his plot, was familiar to the audience, but the precise handling of it and the extent to which the playwright would innovate were unknown. If one now takes into account that precisely what Odysseus is about to discover, namely Ajaxâs attack on the Greeksâ cattle, was probably an innovation by Sophocles, it becomes highly likely to see here a specific allusion to the audienceâs state of knowledge:13 Odysseus, in his partial knowledge vis-Ã -vis the âknowingâ Athena and his quest to âlearnâ from her, acts as a focaliser for the audience.14 Thus, the first two utterances establish not only an internal, but also what one could call a âmetalepticâ participation framework.
3 Gods and Humans
Athenaâs reaction to Odysseusâ implicit request is remarkable:
[3] Sophocles Ajax 34â40
Îδ. ⦠καιÏὸν δâ á¼ÏήκειÏÎ ÏάνÏα Î³á½°Ï Ïá½± Ïâ οá½Î½ Ïá½±ÏοÏ
Ïá½± Ïâ εἰÏá½³ÏειÏα Ïá¿Î¹ ÎºÏ Î²ÎµÏνῶμαι ÏεÏá½·.
Îθ. á¼Î³Î½Ïν, á½Î´Ï ÏÏεῦ, καὶ Ïάλαι Ïύλαξ á¼Î²Î·Î½
Ïá¿Î¹ Ïá¿Î¹ ÏÏá½¹Î¸Ï Î¼Î¿Ï Îµá¼°Ï á½Î´á½¸Î½ ÎºÏ Î½Î±Î³á½·Î±Î¹.
Îδ. ἦ καί, Ïίλη δέÏÏοινα, ÏÏá½¸Ï ÎºÎ±Î¹Ïὸν Ïονῶ;
Îθ. á½¡Ï á¼ÏÏιν Ïá¼Î½Î´Ïá½¸Ï Ïοῦδε Ïá¼Ïγα ÏαῦÏá½± Ïοι.
Îδ. καὶ ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïá½· Î´Ï ÏλόγιÏÏον ὧδâ ἦιξεν Ïá½³Ïα;
Od. ⦠You have come opportunely; because as in the past, so in the future it is your hand that steers me.
Ath. I knew it, Odysseus, and some time ago set out on the way, eager to guide you in your hunt.
Od. Dear mistress, am I labouring to any purpose?
Ath. Know that these are the actions of that man!
Od. And why did he lash out so foolishly?
In her answer, she does not react to Odysseusâ request. Instead, she just states that she had already known what he has just told her. By withholding further information, she makes him ask explicitly for the information she promised. Odysseus does this and she then provides him with the information in a brief stichomythia, capped by a longer rhesis (38â65): as a consequence of his having been denied Achillesâ arms, which were awarded to Odysseus instead, Ajax went mad15 and wanted to take revenge on the Greeks and, in a nightly attack, to slay as many of them as possible. He would have succeeded, had not Athena intervened by casting delusion upon him and making him attack the Greeksâ cattle instead. At the moment of her encounter with Odysseus, Ajaxâs delusion still prevails and he is in his hut, torturing the ram he thinks is his foe, Odysseus.
The way in which Athena provides this information is interesting. For after having made Odysseus ask explicitly, she gives away the relevant information in piecemeal fashion (the beginning of which can be seen in the excerpt above). In this way, she prompts her interlocutor to ask further questions time and againâa behaviour that has been correctly described as âgentle toying with her protégéâ.16 What enables her to do so is, of course, that she is a âknowingâ goddess, whereas Odysseus is a man whose knowledge is only partial. Moreover, as a goddess, she is under no threat at all, whereas the human Odysseus is dependent on learning what has happened in order to counter the danger presented by the nightly attacker.17 Sophocles thus makes the spectators follow the focaliser Odysseus through the stichomythia in the common quest for information. In a subtle but effective way, he creates awareness of the fact that Odysseus, notwithstanding his closeness to Athena, is still separated from her by the insurmountable gulf that exists between gods and humans. Importantly, this does not lead to any irritation on the part of Odysseus and, per extensionem, on the part of the spectators. The stichomythia thus not only reveals the gap between gods and humans but also the fact that this difference is a completely normal state of affairs even between exemplarily close figures such as Athena and Odysseus.
After the stichomythia has ended in a rhesis by Athena, she starts anew and wants to show the delusional Ajax to Odysseus. This utterance (66â77) is best juxtaposed with an earlier statement by Odysseus:
[4] Sophocles Ajax 23, 66â70
Îδ. ⦠ἴÏμεν Î³á½°Ï Î¿á½Î´á½²Î½ ÏÏανέÏ, á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î»á½½Î¼ÎµÎ¸Î±Î
[â¦] Îθ. â¦ Î´Îµá½·Î¾Ï Î´á½² καὶ Ïοὶ Ïήνδε ÏεÏιÏανῠνόÏον,
á½¡Ï ÏᾶÏιν á¼ÏγείοιÏιν εἰÏιδὼν θÏοá¿Î¹Ï.
θαÏÏῶν δὲ μίμνε, μήδε ÏÏ Î¼ÏοÏὰν δέÏÎ¿Ï ,
Ïὸν á¼Î½Î´ÏâÎ á¼Î³á½¼ Î³á½°Ï á½Î¼Î¼á½±ÏÏν á¼ÏοÏÏÏá½¹ÏÎ¿Ï Ï
αá½Î³á½°Ï á¼ÏείÏÎ¾Ï Ïὴν ÏÏá½¹ÏοÏιν εἰÏιδεá¿Î½.
Od. ⦠we know nothing precise, but we are at sea,
[â¦] Ath. ⦠And I will show this madness openly to you also, so that you may tell all the Argives what you have seen. Stay to meet the man with confidence, do not expect disaster; I shall divert the rays of his eyes so that he cannot see you.
Odysseus had presented himself before Athena as representing the Greeks, who âknow nothing preciseâ. If she now wants to show Ajax to him so that he âmay tell all the Argives what he has seenâ, her intention is to enable him to fulfill his task as thoroughly as possible. By adding autopsy to her report, she lends Odysseus even greater credibility vis-Ã -vis the Greeks.18
4 Divine and Human Perspectives
Odysseus, however, reacts negatively at line 74, and this triggers a stichomythic exchange in which Athena presents several arguments to convince him to give in (75â88). The first one is a reproach of cowardice, which can again be best understood by juxtaposing it with a part of the preceding dialogue:
[5] Sophocles Ajax 24, 31â32, 75
Îδ. ⦠κá¼Î³á½¼ âθελονÏá½´Ï Ïῶιδâ á½Ïεζύγην ÏόνÏι.
[â¦] εá½Î¸á½³ÏÏ Î´â á¼Î³á½¼
καÏâ á¼´ÏÎ½Î¿Ï á¼Î¹ÏÏÏ, [â¦]
Îθ. οὠÏίγâ á¼Î½á½³Î¾Î·Î¹ μηδὲ δειλίαν á¼Ïηι;
Od. ⦠and I, as a volunteer, have been charged with this task. [â¦] and at once I darted off on the trail [â¦]
Ath. Will you not be quiet, and not show yourself a coward?
Odysseus had presented himself, quite confidently, as the person the Greeks had charged with investigating the mysterious massacre, who then energetically took over this task (cf. n. 11 above). Yet now, he rejects the occasion to complete his task. Given that Athenaâs reproach can be read as taking up Odysseusâ previous self-presentation,19 that reproach does not seem totally unjustifiedâeven more so, since Odysseus not only endangers the Greeks in their desire to learn what has happended as precisely as possible but also risks to disappoint the spectators who have been following him closely in his quest for information (note that Athena has promised she would make sure Ajax would not see him, which could further justify her charge of cowardice). However, should the spectators go so far as to share Athenaâs reproach? Odysseus, at least, stands his ground, to which Athena reacts with a rhetorical question, varying the cowardice argument, followed by another implicit rejection by Odysseus:
[6] Sophocles Ajax 76â78
Îδ. μὴ ÏÏá½¸Ï Î¸Îµá¿¶Î½Î á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î½ á¼ÏκείÏÏ Î¼á½³Î½Ïν.
Îθ. Ïá½· μὴ γένηÏαι; ÏÏá½¹Ïθεν οá½Îº á¼Î½á½´Ï ὠδâ ἦν;20
Îδ. á¼ÏθÏá½¹Ï Î³Îµ Ïῶιδε Ïá¼Î½Î´Ïὶ καὶ Ïανῦν á¼Ïι.
Od. No, I beg you! Be content for him to stay inside!
Ath. What are you afraid of? Was this one not before a man?
Od. Yes, an enemy to this man here, and he still is.
This is an illuminating exchange: Athena asks whether Ajax was not âa manâ before. Odysseus replies that he was indeed but points out what is important to him: not Ajaxâs humanity but his enmity (note the particle γε at 7821). He provides a reason for this by taking up Athenaâs words, i.e. á¼Î½á½µÏ and ὠδâ, by his self-designation as âthis man hereâ (78 Ïῶιδε Ïá¼Î½Î´Ïá½·): he, Odysseus, is âa manâ himself, and thus what matters to him is that âthe manâ Ajax was and is an enemyâor, to put it differently: vis-à -vis a god, Athenaâs argument would be good, but vis-à -vis a man, it is not. This justifies Odysseusâ rejection of Athenaâs plan as an understandable human reaction, thereby deepening the status of focaliser: the spectators become aware of the fact that the natural difference between god and human that was subtly established in the beginning can be problematic. The most important point, however, is that, in this way, Sophocles establishes a pattern that is the key to the rest of the prologue: Athena tries to do justice to Odysseusâ needs, as she infers them. She does not, however, succeed; this is not because her presuppositions are falseâ Ajax was âa manââbut because she does not seize on what is relevant for her human interlocutor. This can be clearly seen in the next exchange, which is best understood when presented in two separate juxtapositions:
[7a] Sophocles Ajax 78â80
Îδ. á¼ÏθÏá½¹Ï Î³Îµ Ïῶιδε Ïá¼Î½Ïὶ καὶ Ïανῦν á¼Ïι.
Îθ. οá½ÎºÎ¿Ï ν γέλÏÏ á¼¥Î´Î¹ÏÏÎ¿Ï Îµá¼°Ï á¼ÏθÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Î³ÎµÎ»á¾¶Î½;
Îδ. á¼Î¼Î¿á½¶ μὲν á¼ÏκεῠÏοῦÏον á¼Î½ Î´á½¹Î¼Î¿Î¹Ï Î¼á½³Î½ÎµÎ¹Î½.
Od. Yes, an enemy to this man here, and he still is.
Ath. Is not laughter at oneâs enemies the sweetest kind of laughter?
Od. I am content for him to stay inside.
[7b] Sophocles Ajax 76, 78
Îδ. μὴ ÏÏá½¸Ï Î¸Îµá¿¶Î½Î á¼Î»Î»â á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î½ á¼ÏκείÏÏ Î¼á½³Î½Ïν.
[â¦] Îδ. á¼Î¼Î¿á½¶ μὲν á¼ÏκεῠÏοῦÏον á¼Î½ Î´á½¹Î¼Î¿Î¹Ï Î¼á½³Î½ÎµÎ¹Î½.
Od. No, I beg you! Be content for him to stay inside!
[â¦] Od. I am content for him to stay inside.
Odysseus has pointed out the relevance of Ajaxâs enmity. Very well then, Athena answers, what could be âsweeterâ than to laugh at than oneâs enemies in utter defeat (note the inferential particle oá½ÎºÎ¿Ï ν at 7922)? In his answer, Odysseus does not deny that laughing at oneâs enemies is the âsweetestâ thing;23 he simply restates the fact that he wants Ajax to stay inside, repeating his initial rejection and thus making it clear that the fundamental issue, the danger that Ajax constitutes, has not been grasped by Athena.
Then, the exchange gets slightly more complicated: Athena brings forward a new argument, initiating a new stage of the conversation:
[8] Sophocles Ajax 81â88
Îθ. μεμηνόÏâ á¼Î½Î´Ïα ÏεÏιÏÎ±Î½á¿¶Ï á½ÎºÎ½Îµá¿Ï ἰδεá¿Î½;
Îδ. ÏÏονοῦνÏα Î³á½±Ï Î½Î¹Î½ οá½Îº á¼Î½ á¼Î¾á½³ÏÏην á½ÎºÎ½Ïι.
Îθ. á¼Î»Î»â οá½Î´á½² νῦν Ïε μὴ ÏαÏόνÏâ ἴδηι ÏέλαÏ.
Îδ. ÏῶÏ, εἴÏÎµÏ á½Ïθαλμοá¿Ï γε Ïοá¿Ï αá½Ïοá¿Ï á½Ïᾶι;
Îθ. á¼Î³á½¼ ÏκοÏá½½ÏÏ Î²Î»á½³ÏαÏα καὶ δεδοÏκόÏα.
Îδ. γένοιÏο μενÏá¼Î½ Ïᾶν θεοῦ ÏεÏνÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î¿Ï .
Îθ. Ïίγα Î½Ï Î½ á¼ÏÏá½¼Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ μένâ á½¡Ï ÎºÏ Ïεá¿Ï á¼ÏÏν.
Îδ. μένοιμâ á¼Î½Î ἤθελον δâ á¼Î½ á¼ÎºÏá½¸Ï á½¢Î½ ÏÏ Ïεá¿Î½.
Ath. Do you fear to see a man directly who is mad?
Od. Yes, for if he were sane, I would not have shrunk back from him in fear.
Ath. But now he will not even see you near him.
Od. How so, if he is seeing with the same eyes?
Ath. I shall place his eyes in darkness, even though they see.
Od. Indeed anything can happen if a god contrives it.
Ath. Then stand in silence and remain as you are.
Od. I shall remain; but I wish I were not here.
Whether it is Ajaxâs madness that made him reject her offer, she asks. As Odysseusâ taking up âmadâ by âsaneâ and âDo you fear â¦?â by â[I would not have shrunk back] in fearâ shows, the goddess has hit the mark with her question: were Ajax sane, Odysseus would not have âshrunk backâ. Athena counters this by pointing out once more that Ajax will not see him, a claim of which Odysseus at first remains sceptical: how could he not see him if his eyes do see? She then explains more clearly what she will do, and Odysseus agrees: he had indeed not understood how her protection measures would work and will âremainâ where he is. However, even after Athena seems to finally have convinced Odysseus, he closes the encounter at line 88 by saying that he still would prefer not to see Ajax. So even after he has given in, the basic pattern remains intact: Athena still does not meet Odysseusâ needs, and his fear, although becoming somewhat diffuse, remains understandable as a human reaction to an enemy who, being mad, is dangerous to the point that Odysseus does not want to stand directly next to him even if he cannot not see him.24
5 The End of the Exchange and the Beginning of the Drama
Athena then speaks to the delusional Ajax, who triumphs in the middle of the carcasses of the cattle he thinks are his enemies, whilst cruelly mocking him in front of the onlooker Odysseus (lines 89â117). Thereafter, she suggests a lesson to Odysseus from what he has just seen: she asks him to acknowledge the godsâ power who can bring down even someone as âprudentâ as Ajax. Odysseus, however, draws his own conclusion, opposing Athenaâs suggestion by taking up the word á½Ïá½±Ï, âto seeâ:25
[9] Sophocles Ajax 118â126
Aθ. á½ÏᾶιÏ, á½Î´Ï ÏÏεῦ, Ïὴν θεῶν á¼°ÏÏὺν á½ Ïην;
ÏούÏÎ¿Ï Ïá½·Ï á¼Î½ Ïοι Ïá¼Î½Î´Ïá½¸Ï á¼¢ ÏÏονούÏÏεÏοÏ
á¼¢ δÏᾶν á¼Î¼Îµá½·Î½Ïν ηá½Ïέθη Ïá½° καίÏια;
Îδ. á¼Î³á½¼ μὲν οá½Î´á½³Î½â οἶδâÎ á¼ÏοικÏá½·ÏÏ Î´á½³ νιν
δύÏÏηνον á¼Î¼ÏαÏ, καίÏÎµÏ á½Î½Ïα Î´Ï Ïμενá¿,
á½Î¸Î¿á½»Î½ÎµÎºâ á¼Ïηι ÏÏ Î³ÎºÎ±Ïá½³Î¶ÎµÏ ÎºÏαι κακá¿Î¹,
οá½Î´á½²Î½ Ïὸ ÏούÏÎ¿Ï Î¼á¾¶Î»Î»Î¿Î½ á¼¢ Ïοá½Î¼á½¸Î½ ÏκοÏῶν.
á½Ïῶ Î³á½°Ï á¼¡Î¼á¾¶Ï Î¿á½Î´á½²Î½ á½Î½ÏÎ±Ï á¼Î»Î»Î¿ Ïλὴν
εἴδÏλâ á½ ÏοιÏÎµÏ Î¶á¿¶Î¼ÎµÎ½ á¼¢ κούÏην Ïκιάν.
Ath. Do you see, Odysseus, how great is the power of the gods? What man was found to be more prudent than this one, or better at doing what was right?
Od. I know of none, and I pity him in his misery, though he is my enemy, not thinking of his fate, but my own; because I see that all of us who live are nothing but ghosts, or a fleeting shadow.
In his answer, Odysseus acknowledges the awesome power of the gods. His reaction, however, is to pity his disgraced fellow human being Ajax. For he recognises that, from a human perspective, divine power means first and foremost human frailty. Again, we see Odysseus correcting the goddess Athenaâs assumptions from a human perspective. He does not prove them false but points out what is relevant to himâagain, the same pattern occurs that has been established in the first part of the prologue and has been discussed above. Odysseusâ more humanly adequate reaction entails also a thorough re-evaluation of Ajax: Athena had said that no one had been âmore prudent and better at doing what is rightâ. Whereas these qualities had just served to make Ajaxâs downfall even more impressive in her account, Odysseusâ pity brings out their ethical implications. It marks Ajaxâs downfall as something that is, in a certain sense, unmerited. This becomes clear if one remembers how intimately, as far as we can assess, pity is bound up in classical Greek thought with the unmerited character of a personâs sufferings.26 The message is clear: the Ajax whom the spectators have just seen cruelly triumphing over his âenemiesâ and wanting to torture âOdysseusâ to death cannot be the whole story. In a certain sense, Ajaxâs attack on the cattle and Athenaâs intervention must be a âmisfortuneâ,27 a âtippingâ of a fundamentally âgoodâ character. This becomes even clearer if one remembers that the qualities attributed to Ajaxâprowess in counsel and actionâare akin to traditional heroic virtues.28
A major point has been established: Odysseus has, from his human perspective, found an adequate reaction to the thwarted hero Ajax. His reaction is based on the tragic notion of human frailty which he expresses in traditional terms already found in Pindar.29 However, the prologue is not over yet; the last word belongs to Athena, who again takes up Odysseusâ preceding answer:
[10] Sophocles Ajax 125â133
Îδ. ⦠á½Ïῶ Î³á½°Ï á¼¡Î¼á¾¶Ï Î¿á½Î´á½²Î½ á½Î½ÏÎ±Ï á¼Î»Î»Î¿ Ïλὴν
εἴδÏλâ á½ ÏοιÏÎµÏ Î¶á¿¶Î¼ÎµÎ½ á¼¢ κούÏην Ïκιάν.
Îθ. ÏοιαῦÏα ÏÎ¿á½·Î½Ï Î½ εἰÏοÏῶν á½Ïá½³ÏκοÏον
μηδέν ÏοÏâ εἴÏÎ·Î¹Ï Î±á½Ïá½¸Ï á¼Ï Î¸ÎµÎ¿á½ºÏ á¼ÏοÏ,
μηδâ á½Î³ÎºÎ¿Î½ á¼Ïηι μηδένâ, εἴ ÏÎ¹Î½Î¿Ï Ïλέον
á¼¢ ÏειÏὶ βÏá½·Î¸ÎµÎ¹Ï á¼¢ μακÏοῦ ÏλούÏÎ¿Ï Î²á½±Î¸ÎµÎ¹.
á½¡Ï á¼¡Î¼á½³Ïα κλίνει Ïε κá¼Î½á½±Î³ÎµÎ¹ Ïάλιν
á¼ ÏανÏα Ïá¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½ÏειαΠÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Î´á½² Ïá½½ÏÏοναÏ
θεοὶ ÏιλοῦÏι καὶ ÏÏÏ Î³Î¿á¿¦Ïι ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ ÎºÎ±ÎºÎ¿á½»Ï.
Od. ⦠because I see that all of us who live are nothing but ghosts, or a fleeting shadow.
Ath. Look, then, at such things, and never yourself utter an arrogant word against the gods, nor assume conceit because you outweigh another in strength or in profusion of great wealth. Know that a single day brings down or raises up again all mortal things, and the gods love the prudent and hate the base.
Odysseus had âseenâ Ajax as a pitiable paradigm of human frailty. Athena, in her turn, takes up Odysseusâ âI seeâ when she admonishes him to âlook at such thingsâ (note the inferential ÏÎ¿á½·Î½Ï Î½ at 12730).31 Having become aware of human frailty (131â132), he ought not to say âhimselfâ (128 αá½Ïá½¹Ï) âan arrogant wordâ to the gods, since they âlove the prudent and hate the baseâ (132â133). This answer contains, as said above, a new piece of information: if Athena calls on Odysseus not to say an arrogant word to the gods himself, we may infer that this is precisely what Ajax has done. The spectators have now just heard Ajax speak such a âwordâ towards Athena in the direct exchange, in which he rudely had his will against theâalbeit hypocriticalâobjections of Athena. This âwordâ, however, cannot be the one Athena has in mind here, for the âhatredâ which made her thwart Ajaxâs revenge plot against the Greeks must of course be prior to her intervention.32 Rather, Athena links Ajaxâs speaking an arrogant word with his character by calling him, indirectly, imprudent and base. This challenges the re-evaluation brought about by Odysseus: was Ajax out of character during his appearance after all? Was his behaviour really a âmisfortuneâ, a âtippingâ of a fundamentally noble character? Ajax, having just been rehabilitated, becomes problematic again.
But how definitive is Athenaâs verdict? The entire conversation between Athena and Odysseus has been marked by the pattern discussed above: Athena tries to be relevant to her interlocutor but, while not saying anything false, does not meet the latterâs human needs, whereupon he discreetly opposes his own point of view to Athenaâs. The prologue is thus structured according to a dialectical pattern between divine and human, which, after Ajaxâs appearance, becomes one between a negative and a more positive (and more humanly adequate) evaluation of Ajax. This dialectical pattern suggests that, this time as well, Athenaâs information is not false, but that, at the same time, her damning verdict is not an adequate human reaction to Ajax. This time, however, Odysseus does not provide a more adequate reaction on stage. This is precisely where the central dramatic effect of the prologue lies: the spectators have, since the beginning, been following Odysseus through the dialogue, which was marked by Athenaâs repeated attempts at being relevant for her human interlocutor and his repeatedly opposing his human perspective to the goddessâ divine perspectiveâa process that we have retraced by looking at the way both characters take up preceding utterances in pursuit of their communicative goals. This dialectical process, however, breaks off after Athenaâs statement in 127â133, the spectators lose their focaliser who had provided them with an adequate human reaction to Athenaâs contributions. At the end of the prologue, they thus âinheritâ Odysseusâ function of dealing from a human perspective with Athenaâs information that is not likely to be false but needs to be accommodated by the spectators from their human perspective in a more positive image of Ajax. But how can they do so? The answer is clear: by watching the tragedy of Ajax that has just begun and that will provide them with a more comprehensive picture of its complex hero. They are thus left behind with the question âHow do I judge Ajax?â and called upon to look for an answer to this question in the continuation of the play: by having the spectators follow Odysseus through the dialectic of the conversation and by then breaking off this dialectic and leaving them behind in the way described, Sophocles generates audience involvement for the play to follow.
The further development of the tragedy will indeed enable an accommodation of Athenaâs information in a more positive image of Ajax: in the report from the seer Calchas at 762â777, it will become clear that Athena was right and that Ajax had indeed, long before the judgement of the arms, uttered an âarrogant wordâ against the goddess (note á½ÏικόμÏÏÏ at 766), thereby causing her wrath. However, by then, the play will have presented a more nuanced picture of Ajax, thereby also confirming his heroic character that lies at the base of Odysseusâ rehabilitation in the prologue; it will no longer be possible to condemn him simply as âimprudentâ and âbaseâ. This process of finding an adequate evaluation of the complex figure of Ajax that does justice both to his undeniable greatness and to his deeply problematic character starts with the prologue. There, the spectators are prepared for this nuanced reaction through the depiction of the âchsracter interactionâ, as they watch the characters try to do things together with words. This makes it clear that it is wrong to privilege Odysseusâ human perspective, as some critics tend to do with regard to the prologue:33 the prologue is marked by deliberate ambiguity, and the most productive critical attitude towards it is acknowledging the dramatic potential to generate audience involvement that lies in it.34
With this conclusion in mind, it is possible, as a sort of âcodaâ, to return to Kirkwoodâs statement mentioned at the beginning of this paper. According to Kirkwood, âcharacter interactionâ is of particular importance to Sophoclean drama. Whereas references to Aeschylus and Euripides (and to other Sophoclean plays) are beyond the scope of this paper, it can at least be said that the Ajax shows how the dialogic nature of the prologue is ingenuously used by the poet for great dramatic effect. If one now remembers that dialogic prologues are a particularly Sophoclean phenomenon,35 it could indeed be the case that he was more interested in exploiting the dramatic potential of âcharacter interactionâ than the other two great dramatic poets.
Another corollary may be added: the prologue of the Ajax is the only direct encounter between a man and a god in Sophoclesâ extant tragedies.36 The interaction between the two parties is marked by the fact that they have fundamentally different outlooksâa fact that is inculcated in spectators as they follow the focaliser Odysseus through the dialogue.
There are at least two famous passages in the Sophoclean corpus where characters reproach the gods for having let them down: At OT 1329â1335, Oedipus accuses Apollo of being responsible for his downfall because he had given the oracle that ordered him to find Laiusâ murderer. At Trach. 1264â1278, Hyllus accuses âthe godsâ in general and Zeus in particular after a misunderstood oracle by Zeus contributed to the catastrophe and demise of his father Heracles. The prologue of the Ajax suggests a possible and genuinely tragic answer to these reproaches: maybe we humans just do not understand the godsâand vice versa.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Gunther Martin, Federica Iurescia, and Giada Sorrentino for their comments on my paper, as well as the attendants of the conference in Zurich for the discussion. The research for this paper was funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation (Project PP00P1_183707).
Kirkwood (1958: 99â101).
In doing so, my paper is firmly anchored within the domain of pragmatics, since both communicative systems, the external and the internal one in the terms of Pfister (1988: 3â4), are, for the fact of being communicative, open to a pragmatic analysis (cf. Jucker and Locher 2017: in particular 1â2; an analysis of the external system inevitably shows overlaps with domains such as narratology and reception theory). This is even more the case since the paper does not analyse these two systems alongside each other (if such a thing is possible) but shows how understanding the external communicative system depends on a precise understanding of the internal one.
Du Bois (2014), especially 372â375. The genesis of the theory of dialogic syntax is influenced by the concept of dialogism famously developed by Bakhtin (1986: 87â100; see also 1981: 275â294) and VoloÅ¡inov (1973: 83â98); see Clark (1996) on language use as a âjoint actionâ and Linell (1998: 86â87, 127â154) on dialogue as a âjoint constructionâ; see also Drummen (2016b: §§â¯1â7) and cf. the concept of âcommon groundâ (Allan in this volume).
Resonance is a concept particularly helpful to investigate Greek particles, which function as âcontextualisation cuesâ (Cook-Gumperz and Gumperz 1976), i.e. as means by which interlocutors express the particular pragmatic intention of their taking up elements of preceding utterances. For the importance of particles to this paperâs argument cf. n. 21, 22, and 30 below.
Du Bois (2014: 360â365).
Texts are from Lloyd-Jones and Wilson (1990); translations are adapted from Lloyd-Jones (1994).
Barker (2009: 299â302).
The word âclueâ is important: When talking about the audience, I do not claim to reconstruct the reaction of an âempiricalâ recipient, but the signals contained in the text for its âimplied recipientâ (see Iser 1978: 34).
See, e.g., Il. 10.278â279.
á½Ïεζύγην (24) is passive, see Allan (2006: 118â119).
Note the slightly paradoxical expression âθελονÏá½´Ï [â¦] á½Ïεζύγην (24), which shows the readiness with which Odysseus took over the taskâan image he draws of himself also when he says that he âat once darted off the trailâ (31â32).
On the notion of âparticipation frameworkâ, see Goffman (1981).
Heath and OKell (2007: 366).
Cf. Ringer (1998: 34); for the use of the concept of focalisation in drama, see Hose (1993: 36).
The âmadnessâ of Ajax is a famous topic; Athenaâs report draws a picture according to which Ajax was mad before her intervention, which makes it natural to assume the judgement of the arms as tipping-point; that this picture will later be complicated (see the excellent treatment by Winnington-Ingram [1980: 11â56]) is not of interest here.
Finglass (2011: ad 36â37).
Cf. Heath (1987: 170).
Finglass (2011: ad 66â67); the scholiast already recognised this as a sign of Athenaâs âgood-willâ (schol. 66a).
In this context, it is remarkable that the subject to which Odysseus would âshow himself a cowardâ remains unspecified: sure, Athena means herself, but could her words also point to the Greeks at large?
Punctuation as in the text of Finglass (2011, cf. ad 77).
On γε in such contexts of resonance, see Drummen (2016b: §§â¯77â79); á¼Î½á½µÏ has been taken to mean âheroâ (see Finglass 2011: ad 77); however, this meaning would demand rather καί than γε in Odysseusâ answer: âWas this one not a hero before?âââYes, and an enemy to this man here.â (on this continuing function of καί, see Drummen 2016b: §§â¯89â94).
Cf. Denniston (21954: 431) and Drummen (2016a: §§â¯81â82, on οá½Î½).
Cf. Heath (1987: 168).
Note the continued presence of the god(-and-man) theme in line 86. The only real challenge to this understanding of Odysseusâ fear (which was already that of the scholiast, see schol. 74) has come from LaCourse Munteanu (2010: 188), who claims that it is a fear sui generis caused by the awesome and destabilising potential that is inherent to the act of directly seeing a madman. This interpretation has the undeniable advantage of doing away with the diffuse character Odysseusâ fear takes on when he, at line 88, still does not want to see Ajax, although he has accepted that he will not see him. It is, however, somewhat problematic in that it essentially reads the exchange of Athena and Odysseus from this line 88. For before it, there is no hint that Odysseusâ fear could be due to anything else than the fact that his enemy has become even more dangerous in his current state (at line 82 he says that Ajaxâs madness made him âshrink backâ, but line 84 shows that the possibility of being seen by the mad Ajax does bother him).
Cf. Segal (1989: 397â398).
Konstan (2001: e.g. 125).
Konstan (2001: 108).
March (1993: 18).
See Finglass (2011: ad 125â126).
Denniston (21954: 569â570).
Cf. Segal (1989: 398).
Cf. Heath (1987: 171) for the implications of Athenaâs utterance.
See Parker (1997: 152â153, especially n. 34).
In this focus on the dramatic effect of this ambiguity as rooted in the dialectical structure that marks the dialogue from a very early stage, the present paper adds to previous discussions that have acknowledged the multiperspectivity or âpolyphonyâ of the prologue (Diller 1963; Segal 1989; de Jong 2006; Burian 2012; cf. Budelmann 2000: 184â185).
This is a rough picture, of course: there are dialogic prologues in Euripides (e.g. Trojan Women) and Aeschylus sometimes has no prologues at all, e.g. Persians.
The appearance of Heracles at the end of the Philoctetes is something very different; on gods on stage in Sophoclean drama, see Parker (1999: 11â12).
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