Ancient Greek tragedy is a lost world to me. I cannot feel its anguish. In fact, I honestly sense something comical about it, the Oedipus trilogy included. All that fear and dread of fetid family revelations. Sure, it’s no delight learning that you killed your father—but by Jove, cut yourself some slack Oedipus! After all, you killed him without intent to kill him, and he certainly intended to kill you when you were just a babe. So, his death was due punishment, and what could be sweeter than executing the very man who intended to execute you? Of course, I make bad jests, and all this blood makes a poor comedy. But then consider incest: a harmless deed, and—I say this without blushing (sorry mom)—hopefully his mother enjoyed the deed. Oops, I killed the man who tried to kill me; oops, I slept with the woman who gave birth to me. In short, Greek tragedy resembles comedy to me.
As for Agamemnon, please, he left his wife to fight for a strumpet for 10 years, and we expect his wife to chain herself to chastity? If you love a woman, but cannot please her, let another man do better, love says. As for the murders that followed her adultery: what else can one expect from people who know nothing of education?
Only the xenophobic, narcissistic, interbreeding, nepotistic, chauvinistic Athenians could see the tragedy in Greek tragedy. Nietzsche’s flattering appraisal that the Greek taste for tragedy evinces strength of spirit is just half of the story.
What about Athenian comedy? Why, with all its cruel parody and bile, it seems to warrant more tears than tragedy. Even Plautus could not write a comedy free of witty barbs, treachery and deceit born of greed. Reading such comedies, I sometimes feel like I am overhearing the crude invectives of a dog.
There’s much progress from ancient Athens to Elizabethan London. Shakespeare’s tragedies are not half as fantastical and funny as the Athenian tragedies, and his comedies are much less cruel. Sure, S. helped the upper classers laugh at our Bottom and at all the poor tradesmen in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but it’s farcical rather than mendacious.
With Jonathan Swift satire is unleashed upon the world… for it was a world ready to tolerate some criticism, though not yet criticism of religion. Was Swift funnier than Shakespeare? Perhaps not, for with satire, tragedy and comedy are conjoined and consolidated into a form bearing little resemblance to its parents.
With Mark Twain, satire softens and turns towards comedy, though the comedy, or humor, remains chained to satire, social criticism, heresy and even philosophy.
Today, in the civilized world, high tragedy has evolved from the first mythological monsters into an open critique of the world, while low tragedy–both horror shows and tear-jerkers–remains half of Hollywood.
The future has no need of tragedy beyond what we can find in every thought. The future comedy will be what we shameless ones create.
