The Greek playwright Sophocles was born in 496 BC at Colonus, near Athens. Unlike his younger contemporary, the often-misunderstood Euripides, Sophocles had the fortune of being revered for his genius during his own lifetime. He lived to the ripe old age of ninety, and his life coincided with the great golden age of the city-state of Athens. Sophocles came from a stable, well-to-do family, and from the beginning, it seemed that he was blessed in every way. Handsome, wealthy, and well-educated, Sophocles lived and died as one of Athens' most beloved citizens. In 468 BC, his debut dramatic production took first prize at the festival of Dionysis - no small feat for a beginner in his twenties, especially considering that among his competitors was the great Aeschylus. By 450 BC, Sophocles had written some two dozen plays. He was the most prolific of the three great Greek tragedians, writing 120 plans over the span of his remarkable career. Only seven complete plays survive. He received the prize at the Dionysia a total of twenty-four times‹more than Aeschylus or Euripides‹and in the years that he competed and did not win, he took second place. Since playwrights produced trilogies for the Dionysia, this impressive record means that seventy-two of Sophocles' plays were first-place winners. He was an innovator in his art: Sophocles improved stage scenery, reduced the importance of the chorus, and, most significantly, added a third speaking actor to the traditional two. He made some of the best use of this last convention, writing scenes that capitalized on the dramatic potential of three on-stage actors. Of the three tragedians, he has what is arguably the best sense of drama and pacing. His plays are cleanly made, tightly constructed and filled with beautiful poetry. In many ways, he was a conservative man, a firm believer in Athenian religion and Athenian government. Sophocles' characters are tragically flawed, but their heroic stature is beyond question. The larger-than-life attributes that make them great are the same traits that cause their destruction‹but their greatness is preserved, even emphasized, by Sophocles' unique dramatic sensibility. They are far from the complex and troubling psychological portraits we see in the plays of Euripides. This difference should not be seen as a shortcoming on the part of Sophocles, because his vision would not have been served by the kinds of characterization found in Euripides' plays. Nor was Sophocles unaware of these differences of characterization: supposedly, Sophocles himself said that he wrote men as they ought to be, while Euripides wrote them as they really are. A long tradition of criticism exalts Sophocles above both Aeschylus and Euripides, hailing his work as the apex of Greek tragedy. Aristotle praised him above all other playwrights, using Oedipus the King as a model in his highly influential Poetics. A very old paradigm treats Aeschylus' plays as the preparation for Sophocles' work, with Euripides' plays representing the decline of the art form. This model tends to draw heavily on the Aristotelian approach to dramatic criticism, but it says more about Aristotle's taste than it does about the three tragedians. More nuanced critical approaches make it almost meaningless to exalt one of the three men as "the Greatest." All had very different concerns‹although their lives overlapped and they lived in the same city-state, each man had his own unique voice and powerful vision. In the end, perhaps the frenzied descent into disorder so often imagined by Euripides was truest to Athens' fate‹infighting and the dirty work of politics compromised Athens' good name, and Athens fell to her hated enemy, Sparta, just two years after the death of Sophocles. Sophocles continued to write and serve in government well into his eighties. Oedipus at Colonus and Philoctetes are two of his last plays, and they are among the most praised works of classical art. He died in 406 BC. With only seven complete surviving plays, Sophocles left a legacy powerful enough to make him one of the founding fathers of Western drama.

The specific circumstances surrounding the origin of Greek drama were a puzzle even in the fourth century BC. Greek drama seems to have its roots in religious celebrations that incorporated song and dance. By the sixth century BC, Athenians had transformed a rural celebration of Dionysis into an urban festival with dancing choruses that competed for prizes. An anonymous poet came up with the idea of having the chorus interact with a masked actor. Later, Aeschylus transformed the art by using two masked actors, each playing different parts throughout the piece‹making possible Greek drama as we know it. With two actors and a chorus, complex plots and conflicts could be staged as never before, and the poets who competed in the festival were no longer writing elaborate hymns, but true plays. Athens was the only Greek city-state where this art form evolved; the comedies, tragedies, and dramas handed down to us from the period, although labeled generically as "Greek," are in fact all Athenian works. After the defeat of the Persians in a decisive campaign (480-479 BC), Athens emerged as the superpower of the independent Greek city-states, and during this time, the drama festival, or the Dionysia, became a spectacular event. The Dionysia lasted four to five days, and the city took the celebrations seriously. Prisoners were released on bail and most public business was suspended. Roughly ten thousand free male citizens, along with their slaves and dependents, watched plays in an enormous outdoor theater that could seat seventeen thousand spectators. On each of three days, the Athenians were treated to three tragedies and a satyr play (a light comedy on a mythic theme) written by one of three pre-selected tragedians, as well as one comedy by a comedic playwright. The trilogies did not have to be an extended drama dealing with the same story, although often they were. At the end of the festival, the tragedians were awarded first, second, and third prize by the judges of Dionysis. Although Antigone is grouped together with Oedipus the King and Oedipus at Colonus as a trilogy (sometimes called "The Theban Plays" or "The Oedipus Trilogy"), the three works were actually not written as a trilogy at all. It would therefore be totally erroneous to say that Antigone presents some kind of "final word" on the themes of the trilogy. In fact, although Antigone deals with the events that happen chronologically last in the myth, the play was produced in 441 BC‹some fourteen or fifteen years before Oedipus the King, and a full thirty-six years before Oedipus at Colonus. Sophocles was clearly fascinated by the Oedipus myth, but inconsistencies in the events of the three plays seem to indicate that he wrote each play as a separate treatment of the story. For modern readers, the Chorus may be the most alien element of the play. Greek drama was not meant to be what we would consider "naturalistic." It was a highly stylized art form: actors wore masks, and the performances incorporated song and dance. The Chorus delivers much of the exposition and expounds poetically on themes, but it is still meant to represent a group of characters. In the case of Antigone, the Chorus is constituted by the Theban elders, old and powerful citizens of the city who watch and comment on the action. It interacts with the actors, and in Antigone the Chorus intercedes at a crucial point near the end of the play. Consistent with the norms of Greek drama, Antigone is not divided into acts or scenes. Action flows uninterrupted from beginning to end. However, time elapses in non-naturalistic fashion: at certain points, from reports of what has happened offstage, it is clear that a great amount of time is meant to have passed even though only a few minutes have passed for the audience. In general, as noted by Aristotle, most Greek tragedies have action confined to a twenty-four hour period. In his influential Poetics, Aristotle set guidelines for the form of tragedy, using Oedipus the King as his ideal model. Tragedy is usually concerned with a person of great stature, a king or nobleman, who falls because of hubris, or pride. There are unities of time, place, and, most importantly, action. Action may be though of simply as motive or "movement of spirit": in Oedipus the King the action for most of the play is "find Laius' killer and stop the plague in Thebes." The action in Antigone is "preserve rightness and order in Thebes." Antigone is a strange case because the "movement-of-spirit" arguably comes from two directions: Antigone and Creon are both championing what is right, but they define rightness through different sets of values. Key elements include the moments of reversal and recognition, although not every tragedy has these moments. Reversal means a great and unexpected turn in events when the action veers around and becomes its opposite. Antigone experiences no reversal, but Creon does: at the Chorus' prodding, he finally backs down and listens to the advice he has been given, turning against the preservation of the kind of order he cherishes. Recognition means that a character gains sudden and transformative understanding of himself and the events he has experienced, moving from ignorance to knowledge. In Antigone, Creon finally recognizes that he has been misguided and that his actions have led to the death of his wife and son. Ideally, according to Aristotle, the reversal and the recognition hit at the same instant, as they do in Oedipus the King. While the Poetics are indispensable for the student of Greek drama‹and, indeed, drama in general‹Aristotle's theories should not be a straitjacket. Aristotle's guidelines make it difficult to appreciate the genius of Euripides, and by the standards of the Poetics, the great tragedies of Shakespeare would be failures. Aristotle is writing from a particular time and place, and he is also speaking from a very specific artistic sensibility. He may be the first word on Greek tragedy, but he is not the last. For these summaries, the quotations and the line numbers given with the citations match the lines in the David Grene translation; the reader is encouraged to look at different translations of Antigone to get a feel for the great difference that a translator can make.

The drama begins at dawn, after a night in which there has been a war in Thebes between armies led by the two sons of Oedipus. Keep in mind that the Greek theater was in the open air, and that the first performances of the day would begin at daybreak. Thu s, imagine that the time of day of the setting would be identical to the performance time.

As you read the first scene, consider the gravity of the city's condition and how aware Antigone seems of it.

Throughout the play, Antigone and Creon will talk much about friends and enemies. Think about what each means by these terms. In general, Antigone and Creon tend to use the same words but mean different things by them. For example, consider Antigone's re ference to being a "traitor" (57). This is a political term; does Antigone mean a traitor to the city, or to something else? Compare with Creon at 580.

Why does Antigone assume that Creon's order is directed against her and Ismene? When Creon appears later, consider whether his conduct and language in fact supports her assumption.

Do you sympathize at all with Ismene's caution? Does Antigone treat her fairly?

Why is Antigone so concerned with glory (113)? Should she be?

How old do you think Antigone is?

After the initial dialogue the Chorus emerges for their first choral ode (stasimon), which concerns the previous night's battle. Contrast the picture of Polynices drawn there with Antigone's earlier discussion of her brother; does your opinion of h im, and of Antigone's position, change at all?

The chorus evokes Dionysus (171), the first of several times this god is mentioned. Why should the chorus call upon Dionysus?

Creon enters. It is very important that you do not project Creon's later conduct back into his first speech. Read this speech carefully, consider his values and beliefs, and ask yourself whether there is anything wrong with his principles, whether in Gree k terms or your own. Later, compare Creon's subsequent actions with the principles he articulates here.

Throughout this scene, pay close attention to the assumptions Creon makes about gender.

When Creon talks about the gods and the law (317ff), is he talking about the same types of gods as Antigone does?

How would you compare Creon's speech with Pericles' Funeral Oration? Do Creon's ideas resemble Pericles? (And his Antigone more like her father or Sappho?

Second stasimon, perhaps the most famous choral ode in Greek tragedy. What image of man does this ode present? In this vision, what is human greatness? What are the limits of human ability and action? When can a daring man get into trouble?

Choral odes often generalize a given problem specific to the play's action into a statement about human life as a whole. Is that the case here? If so, then is the chorus alluding to Antigone, or to Creon, or to both?

Why is Creon so surprised when the Sentry brings in Antigone?

Antigone is compared to a mother bird (471ff), not the last time she is referred to as maternal in this play. Is there anything strange or ironic about Antigone being represented as a mother?

Antigone's defense to Creon (499-524) is very important, so read it carefully.

Ismene defends Antigone and asks Creon how he could kill his own son's bride (641). Has there been any reference to this relationship before?

Contrast this stasimon with the previous one. Is this ode's thought and tone similar or different? What, if anything, has changed?

Compare the Creon in this scene with the one who first entered the play. Has he changed at all in language or conduct?

To what does Haemon appeal in his attempt to save Antigone?

Does Haemon threaten his father, as Creon thinks (842)?

Why does Creon chose the particular method of execution that he does (870-8)? What does it say about him?

The ancient Greeks had two words for "love"; philia, meaning something like "friendship", and eros, which has more to do with passion. When the chorus talks about "love" in the ode, which of the two do they mean? And why is the chorus gener alizing about love here?

How would you characterize the chorus' exchange with Antigone here?

Consider Antigone's speech which begins at line 978. Is this speech consistent with what she has argued before?

Is Antigone's faith in the gods wavering here?

Consider what these myths have in common with each other, and with the story of the play at this point.

What does the failure of Tiresias' sacrifice have to do with Polynices and Antigone?

What, specifically, in Tiresias' warnings leads Creon to change his mind?

Why does the chorus call on Dionysus in this ode?

Why does Antigone chose to commit suicide? Does it suggest her mother's death, or is there an important difference?

Creon's wife is only on stage momentarily, yet she plays a key role in Creon's disaster. What does her suicide mean to him?

Is Creon a tragic figure? Do you feel sympathy for him at the end as someone who initially tried to do good yet was overwhelmed by circumstance, or do you believe that he is a bullying, misogynistic control-freak who gets what he deserves? Try to compe up with arguments for both sides. Could the play have been called Creon, instead?

Conversely, what, specifically, makes Antigone a tragic figure? Think about what, exactly, you mean by such words as "tragedy" and "tragic".

Polyneices and Eteocles, two brothers leading opposite sides in Thebes' civil war, have both been killed in battle. Creon, new ruler of Thebes, has declared that Eteocles will be honored and Polyneices disgraced. The rebel brother's body will not be sanctified by holy rites, and it will lay unburied to be the food of carrion animals. Antigone and Ismene are the sisters of the dead brothers, and they are now the last children of the ill-fated Oedipus. In the opening of the play, Antigone brings Ismene outside the city gates late at night for a secret meeting: Antigone wants to bury Polyneices' body, in defiance of Creon's edict. Ismene refuses to help her, fearing the death penalty, and she is unable to dissuade Antigone from going to do the deed by herself. Creon enters, along with the Chorus of Theban elders. He seeks their support in the days to come, and in particular their support for his edict regarding Polyneices' body. The Chorus pledges their support. A Sentry enters, reporting fearfully that the body has been buried. A furious Creon orders the Sentry to find the culprit or face death himself. The Sentry leaves, but after a short absence he returns, bringing Antigone with him. Creon questions her, and she does not deny what she has done. She argues unflinchingly with Creon about the morality of the edict and the morality of what she has done. Creon grows angrier, and, thinking Ismene must have helped her, summons the girl. Ismene tries to confess falsely to the crime, seeking to die with her sister, but Antigone will have none of it. Creon orders that the two women be temporarily locked up inside. Haemon, Creon's son and Antigone's fiancé, enters to pledge allegiance of his father. He initially seems willing to obey Creon. But when Haemon tries gently to persuade his father to spare Antigone, the discussion deteriorates and the two men are soon bitterly insulting each other. Haemon leaves, vowing to never see Creon again. Creon decides to spare Ismene but to imprison Antigone in a cave. She is brought out of the house, and she bewails her fate and defends her actions one last time. She is taken away, with the Chorus expressing great sorrow because of what is going to happen to her. Teiresias, the blind prophet, enters. He warns Creon that the gods side with Antigone. Creon accuses Teiresias of being corrupt, and Teiresias responds that because of Creon's mistakes, he will lose one child for the crimes of leaving Polyneices unburied and putting Antigone into the earth. All of Greece will despise him, and the sacrificial offerings of Thebes will not be accepted by the gods. The Chorus, terrified, asks Creon to take their advice. He assents, and they tell him that he should bury Polyneices and free Antigone. Creon, shaken, agrees to do it. He leaves with a retinue of men to help him right his previous mistakes. The Chorus delivers a choral ode on/to the god Dionysis, and then a Messenger enters. He tells them that Haemon has killed himself. Eurydice, Creon's wife and Haemon's mother, enters and asks the Messenger to tell her everything. The Messenger reports that Haemon and Antigone have both taken their own lives. Eurydice disappears into the palace. Creon enters, carrying Haemon's body. He understands that his own actions have caused these events. A Second Messenger arrives to tell Creon and the Chorus that Eurydice has killed herself. With her last breath, she cursed her husband. Creon blames himself for everything that has happened, and, a broken man, he asks his servants to help him inside. The order he valued so much has been protected, and he is still the king, but he has acted against the gods and lost his child and his wife. The Chorus closes by saying that the gods punish the proud, but punishment brings wisdom.