“He is a young god.
Mythologically obscure,
always just arriving
at some new place
to disrupt the status quo,
wearing the start of a smile.”
–from Ann Carson’s translation “The Bakkhai”
In the northern hemisphere we began our collective descent into winter’s darkness, with the fall equinox on Wednesday September 22nd.
This is a good time to meditate on the most famous myth of the god Dionysus, intoxicating god of the night. It’s a play written by Euripides in the 5th century BCE called “The Bacchae.”
Athenians found the cautionary message of this play subversive. It disturbed their image of Greek reason, democracy, social order, and power. The women don’t stay in their place. It ends on a gruesome note.
A few years after the play was performed, Athens fell to Sparta and their empire building was over. Euripides was in self-imposed exile, and perhaps he saw something that his fellow citizens could not…
Transcript of The Bacchae: How do you imagine the dark?
Hello, and welcome to Myth Matters, storytelling and conversation about mythology and why myth matters to your life today. I’m your host and personal mythologist Dr. Catherine Svehla. Wherever you may be in this wide, beautiful, crazy world of ours, you are part of this story circle.
The Fall Equinox took place yesterday, Wednesday September 22nd, in the northern hemisphere. On the Fall and Spring Equinoxs the daylight and night time hours are in balance, so these days are a threshold, a time when we make a collective step into the darkness or the light depending on the time of year. Recognizing these transitions are important to prepare ourselves for all that such a shift signifies in our inner and outer worlds.
In the last couple of episodes, we’ve talked about the Greek god Dionysus. Today I want to share another important myth about this god, as a bridge between the current move into darkness and our summertime conversations about Zeus and titanism. These personages from Greek mythology compose a catalog of perspectives, of different ways of being in the world that have their source in psyche or soul, that is our ability-our dependence really, in truth– on imagination.
The old stories of these gods and goddesses convey their character and so illuminate our own. We have made them– not the phenomena itself, but these images. They are descriptions of human experiences that invite us to consider what is at work in our soul life.
Dionysus is a god of the night, the moon, the damp dark soil that is womb and tomb, and the hidden, often invisible source of the mystery of life and death. He reminds us that our vitality comes up through the tangled roots of our material existence, and that this is both a physical and metaphysical truth. He reminds us that consciousness begins with the body and extends beyond it, and that our aliveness is most keenly felt in the dangerous joy of our mortality, in full awareness that you are ALIVE right now and that is marvelous, full of wonder, and at the same time, one stage of being on the mysterious continuum of existence. In The Mythic Image, Joseph Campbell quotes an Aztec poet who writes “Life is but a mask worn on the face of death. And is death then, but another mask? How many can say that there is, or is not, a truth beyond?”
This is the mystical wisdom of Dionysus, the Lord of Souls and the god of our many masks, that is our inherent multiplicity. The fantasy of a singular self, the egoic delusion that the ego is the sum total of our being, is deconstructed by Dionysus. He introduces us to the Other, to the diverse forms that are here with us in the world and within us, distinct in themselves and yet part of the Source. I find Dionysus in the Tao, the Way of Nature. Turning to Joseph Campbell again, in Myths to Live By he writes, ” This Way of Nature is the way in which all things come into being out of darkness into light, then pass out of the light back into darkness, the two principles–light and dark– being in perpetual interaction and, in variously modulated combinations, constituting this whole world of ‘ten thousand things.'”
My question for you to day is this: how do you imagine the dark, in the world and in your self. Where is it located and what is found there?
I invite you to let this question rest in your mind while I tell you today’s story, the plot of a play actually called “The Bacchae,” written by the ancient Greek playwright Euripides. What I’m trying to convey may inform your reception of this myth and the few reflections that I’ll share at the end.
I’m going to draw on some passages from Ann Carson’s 2015 translation of the play in my telling. The bits of dialogue are from Carson, who captures the essence of the characters very well.
One more piece– a little bit of background on Euripides and this play. Euripides wrote “the Bacchae” in the 5th century BCE, during the final years of his life and a self-imposed exile from Athens. It is a cautionary tale to the citizens of Athens, written on the eve of the collapse of Athens as a result of the Peloponnesian war with Sparta.
Euripides’ genius was his resistance to conventions. He had an uneasy relationship to the Athenian establishment, which could not deny his brilliance and yet held him at a distance. As Carson notes, “The Bacchae” is his most subversive play. It may not have been performed if not for the efforts of another playwright, Sophocles, who brought it to the city and greatly influenced the open reception it received.
I think Euripides’ message to Athens is relevant and needed today. Now, on with the story.
“The Bacchae”
Dionysus came to the outskirts of the city of Thebes first and alone. His followers, the Bacchae, the maenads, we’re not far behind. He paused to reflect on his journey, his mission, his purpose for taking a long, long road to Thebes, his mother’s family’s hometown. Semele died before Dionysus was born. She was burnt up by a thunderbolt from the great god Zeus, when she asked him, her lover and Dionysus’s father, to reveal himself to her in all his glory.
Semele’s father, old king Cadmus, built her a stone tomb and has kept it clean, in honor of the daughter that gave birth to a god. Alas, Cadmus was one of the few who believed her when she said that Zeus was the father of her unborn child. Pentheus, grandson of Cadmus and current king of Thebes, is among the unbelievers. Pentheus prides himself on being a supremely rational man.
“I came to thrill you Thebes,” says Dionysus, “don’t doubt, I will. Here’s what you’ll need. Fawn skin, thyrsos, absolute submission. My mother’s sisters failed to understand this. They’ve been going around saying Dionysos wasn’t born of Zeus. Cadmus just made that up after Semele slept with a perfectly ordinary person. It was wrong of them to say such things. I have stung them from their homes, they are gone mad upon the mountains, the whole bursting female seed pod of Thebes has gone mad. I’ve put them in Dionysian uniform and they sit beneath pine trees, staring at their own green hands. Soon they will learn soon Thebes must learn to call me son of Zeus, and call me daimon.” (Carson translation)
Dionysus will be recognized and afforded the honor given to every god. Although he has gained it in many cities throughout East Asia, he has yet to find it in Greece, and most importantly, in his hometown of Thebes. He’s joined by his band of women who are dancing and singing down the streets and heading up to the mountainside pounding their drums ,to join the women of Thebes. Dionysus has already inflicted a form of madness on the women of Thebes, who have abandoned their looms and their cooking pots and their children, and rushed up to the mountain top, where they will meet this god.
There are many who have yet to recognize the arrival of Dionysus, but a couple have seen the signs. Among them is Teiresias, the old blind prophet, who’s gone to the palace to retrieve his old friend, King Cadmus. The two of them intend to join Dionysus and the maenads and the women on the mountain top. Cadmus comes out from the palace and says to Teiresias, “Ah, I knew it was you my old friend. I heard your voice and look, I’ve got my gear on too, the costume of the god. Now the important thing is to promote Dionysus everywhere we can.”
“Yes,” says Teiresias, “I am so glad that you are willing to join me and that you are not afraid, even given your old age.” “Well” Cadmus, “says we must get to the mountain. Should we call a cab? “”Well, that doesn’t sound very Dionysian” Teiresias says. “Good point” Cadmus replied, “Let’s walk. We can lean on each other. Let’s go together. I don’t believe in despising the gods, being a mere human myself.”
The two men wrap their arms around each other and prepare to leave when Pentheus comes out of the palace. He sees the two men standing there and notes their robes and ivy- twined staffs. Pentheus is not pleased. “I was out of the country, but I kept hearing rumors of trouble in our city” Pentheus says to the two old men, “Of women leaving home. Of some fake Bakkhic revels deep in the mountains. Of women gone crazy for someone they call ‘Dionysos’ whoever that is… There’s a lot of wine involved in creeping off into the corners with men. Meanwhile they call themselves a prayer group. Obviously, it’s just sex. I’ve put most of them in jail.” (Carson translation)
Pentheus is determined to put an end to this craziness, and he’s dubious about this man who calls himself a god, this Dionysus with his deep soft eyes and his long flowing hair and his penchant for the tambourine. “I’m going to investigate this guy” Pentheus tells his grandfather, “and I’m going to curtail his mystic thing.” Pentheus stops his rant and really fully takes in the view of his grandfather and Teiresias. He thinks they look ridiculous in their robes and fawn skins with ivy in their hair. It’s pretty clear to him that Teiresias is the instigator of all of this craziness. And he tells the two old men that they should stop being ridiculous and toddle on back home.
“You’re bold and loud and glib, Pentheus,” Teiresias replies. “You should have been a lawyer. But you totally lack common sense. This new invented ‘daimon’ that you laugh at– take my word for it—he is not one to laugh at. He’s going to be big. Here’s my view: two things we mortals need to make life livable: Demeter, on the one hand, grows all the food we eat on earth. She is the dry element. Dionysos, the wet element, gives us drink. He showed us how to press liquor from grapes. Wine is an escape from grief, a slip into sleep, a cool forgetting of the hot pains of the day. What better cure for being human?” (Carson translation)
King Cadmus joins in. He tells his grandson that he is receiving some very good advice and in fact, he could do better by joining them. But Pentheus brushes them off with a rude and contemptuous laugh. He says that his plan is quite the opposite. He’s already locked up some of those crazy women and he is sending his soldiers up to the mountaintop to gather the rest of them. “I worry about you Pentheus, I really do” Teiresias says, you were always hot headed, and now you are sounding unhinged. Cadmus, we better get going.”
The two older men leave. Then a guard brings Dionysus to Pentheus. Pentheus does not see a God. He sees only a beautiful long-haired man with a sly smile on his lips. He questions the prisoner and Dionysus tells him that he is from the eastern land of Lydia and has come to Thebes to celebrate the mysteries of God Dionysus. Despite his doubt, Pentheus is curious about the forms these rites take but Dionysus offers elusive answers. In exasperation, Pentheus says, “I can’t believe your arrogance, you casuistical Bakkhic little show-off!” “And there’s a penalty for that?” replies Dionysus. “What? Scare me.” “First thing would be crew cut,” says Pentheus. “But my hair is holy, I grew it for the god,” says Dionysos. “And hand over that stupid thyrsos,” says Pentheus. “Take it yourself. It belongs to Dionysos,” says the god. “Then I’ll put you in jail,” says Pentheus, and Dionysus replies, “The god will let me out.” (Carson translation)
Pentheus orders his guards to lock up the prisoner. Dionysus’ hands are bound with rope and he is led away. But the god is not in captivity long. He calls the spirit of the earthquake and the walls shake and loosen, and Dionysus and the other women who had already been imprisoned by the king are all free. The maenads run back up to the mountains to rejoin the women up there. Pentheus is amazed. He’s having a very bad day. Somehow this stranger has managed to escape.
He’s pacing around the palace fuming when Dionysus shows up in front of him. “Take a breath Pentheus,” says Dionysos, “in through the nose out through the mouth.” “What about the ropes, the knots? I tied up you up myself,” Pentheus says. “I believe I mentioned someone would release me?” says Dionysos. They begin once again their banter. Dionysus tries to explain to Pentheus that there is no way he can be contained.
They are in the midst of an argument when a herdsman comes into the palace. He has just been on Mount Cithairon and seen the women. “I saw them all my king” he said, “and they are doing some very strange things.” He proceeds to tell Pentheus that all of the women were gathered in the grass lying under the trees, fast asleep. “Calm as buttons on a shirt,” he says. “You know it’s strange because you told us to look out for drunks and wild revelry. But there wasn’t any of that it was really quite peaceful up there until, until, well we saw your mother and your mother she starts awake,” the herdsman tells Pentheus, “and yells that yell of hers to rouse the Bakkhai and they spring straight up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They somehow instantly organized. I was impressed. Young women, old ones, girls unwed– they shook out their hair and fastened their fawnskins with snakes that slid up to lick their cheeks. Some new mothers who’d left their babies at home, cradled wolf cubs or deer in their arms and suckled them, and others were wreathing their heads with ivy and oak and bryony. One took a thyrsos and struck a rock. Clear water gushed out. ” (Carson translation)
As the herdsman relates all of these miracles, his eyes round with awe, it’s clear that he is also afraid. He goes on to tell Pentheus that they witnessed this group of women attack their herds, take a calf, and pull it to pieces with bare hands. Having delivered his report the herdsman leaves Pentheus to consider what to do next. He’s very disturbed and concerned that this insanity is going to cause trouble throughout the city. It is time for him to take more drastic action. The god himself has been present to hear this whole report and when Pentheus notices him, he turns angrily and says “Well, I should I should just kill you.” Dionysus tells him that that would be most unfortunate and unfriendly, because he’s actually there to offer a form of salvation, not only to all of the people of Thebes but to the king himself.
Dionysus has a very interesting suggestion. “How about this?” he says to Pentheus. “Would you like to see what the women are up to on the mountain?” “Oh I’d give anything for that” says Pentheus. “You’re suddenly avid” comments Dionysos, “can you say why?” “Of course it would pain me to see women crazy with drink” says Pentheus. “But a pain mixed with pleasure perhaps” Dionysos replies. “Exactly,” says Pentheus, “I can sit quiet by a pine tree.” Hiding?” says Dionysos, “But if you hide they’ll smell you out.” “Good point,” Pentheus says, “I’ll stay in the open.” “Then let’s go” says Dionysos, “Are you ready?” “Ready!” says Pentheus, “Don’t waste any more time!” “First” Dionysus tells him, “you must put on women’s clothes.” “Why? Change myself to a woman?” says Pentheus. “If they see a man there, you’re dead” Dionysos tells him. (Carson translation)
“Another good point,” says Pentheus, “You’re sharp.” “Dionysos taught me everything I know,” says Dionysus. “So how do we go about this?” Pentheus asks. “I’ll come into the house and dress you myself,” Dionysos says. (Carson translation)
Pentheus continues to insist that he would be far too embarrassed to put on a woman’s dress but his prurient curiosity has been sparked, and under its influence Dionysus leads him to put on a dress and to wear jewelry and the god even gives this young king long and flowing hair. By the time they are done, Pentheus is completely captivated by his costume and by his desire to see those women up there in their illicit and drunken orgy. By the time the two get ready to leave the palace, the web of illusion the Dionysus has cast over Pentheus is complete. Pentheus tosses his head, fondles his new long hair. He smooths the creases in his gown and when Dionysus asks him to turn about so that he can make sure that all of his pleats are hanging straight, Pentheus preens and coos over the attention. It’s time for them to go.
Pentheus says to Dionysus, “When we get there I will be able to lift Mount Cithairon on my bare shoulders, Bakkhic women and all, am I right?” “No problem” says Dionysos, “your whole attitude before was unsound. But not anymore!” “Should we take crowbars” Pentheus asks, “or shall I put my shoulder under the mountain and shove?” “Be careful though” says Dionysos, “you mustn’t do damage to the temple of the nymphs or the places where Pan plays his pipes.” “Good point” said Pentheus, “brute force is out. Doesn’t work with women anyhow. I’ll hide in the pines.” “You’ll hide in the hiding place a man should have who comes to spy on the Bakkhai” Dionysos tells him.
“You know” said Pentheus, “I can see them in my mind’s eye, little birds in the bracken, all tangled up in sex.” “Well that’s your mission, right?” says Dionysos, “Catch them at it! Unless you’re caught first.” “Take me right through the middle of the city” Pentheus says, “I’m the only man bold enough to do this.” “Yes, you alone bear this burden on behalf of Thebes” says Dionysos, “a contest awaits you: the contest of your destiny. Follow me. I am your guide and savior. Someone else will bring you home.’ (Carson translation)
Pentheus went to the mountain. Not long after, a servant who accompanied him brought a ghastly report. He met a group of Bakkhai women on the road and told them that king Pentheus was dead. The women pressed him for details and he tells them the story. He tells them that they went up to Mount Cithairon, where they found the women and the maenads sitting peacefully in the meadows, or frisking around playfully, enjoying the day. Dionysus pointed to a place between two hills where Pentheus might sit and catch some glimpses of the activity. But he wasn’t content with the view from there and noted that if he climbed a nice tall pine tree, he would be able to get a much better view of everything that was going on.
Well, this stranger, the one that we know friends, as Dionysus, performed a miracle. He grabbed onto the top of a towering pine tree, and pulled it all the way down to the ground, so that Pentheus could climb up into the uppermost branches. Then he let go of the tree and it went up gently, gently, gently, bearing Pentheus up into the sky. Unfortunately for Pentheus, this perch made him all too visible to the women below. When they saw him, they were not taken in by his disguise, and of course, his spying posture didn’t help. In a mad frenzy, they rushed at the tree, and proceeded to rock it and shake it to pull it down, while others of them pelted Pentheus with stones. Finally, the tree came down and he hit the ground, yelling and sobbing with fear. He tried to run, but the women were on top of him before he could barely get to his feet.
His own mother, Agave, eldest sister of Semele, Dionysus’ mother, was the first one to get to him. She grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and he cried out to her “Mother, Mother, it’s me, it’s your son Pentheus.” But in her frenzy and the mania imposed by the god, she did not recognize him, and proceeded to pull him apart, limb by limb. The servant tells the Bakkhaic women that as women pulled his body apart, they carried their bloody trophies off into the trees, yelling and screaming and crying in triumph. Perhaps the worst thing of all, was seeing Agave, Pentheus’s mother, rip off his head, and under the illusion that it was a mountain lion, raise it over her head and cry out with a hunter’s triumph. “That’s what happened, “the servant tells the women. The servant decides that he does not want to be around when queen Agave comes back to the palace with her terrible trophy, and he heads home.
Not long after, Agave comes down with some of the women from the mountain side, carrying this head of a mountain lion that she has slaughtered. She’s exhilarated. The Bakkhaic women question her about her experience. They know all too well what has actually happened. Agave is deep, deep in her illusion, an illusion that lasts until she gets back to the palace, where she meets her father, Cadmus. Cadmus already knows what has happened to his grandson Pentheus. He has been on the mountain and has already sent up servants to gather up the various body parts of his grandson to bring them home for burial. He has no idea what to expect from his daughter Agave when she comes back down. All he knows is that she was delirious with a god inspired bloodlust.
When she gets back and sees her father, she asks him for congratulations. She wants him to look at the head of the mountain lion, and he cannot bear it. “Oh grief without measure” he says to his daughter, “I don’t know how to look at you. Your poor butchering hands. What a first-rate sacrifice you offer the gods! What a banquet you have in mind! And you wish me to invite all of Thebes?… O sorrow. Your sorrow. My sorrow. Certainly, yes, he treats us with justice but the god goes too far. Bromios: our destroyer! Bromios: our family!” “Well aren’t you grumpy!” Agave says, “Old ages like that, always scowling. I wish my son were more like me –lucky in the hunt when he goes out after game with the young men of Thebes. But all he cares about is making war on gods. He needs a bit of talking-to from you, father. Will someone call him out here so he can witness my good fortune?” (Carson translation)
The confusion between these two versions of reality doesn’t last much longer. Cadmus learns that Agave thinks that she has killed a lion. Gently he questions her about that possibility and as he does so, the madness inflicted by Dionysus begins to fade.
“What child did you bear to your husband there?” Cadmus asks Agave. ” Pentheus” she says. “And whose head is that you have in your hands?” “A loin’s head” she says, “so the hunters told me. Look at it now” says Cadmus, “Just take a moment. Look straight.” (Carson translation)
Agave comes to realize what in fact she has done. “Who did this?” she asks her father, and when he tells her that she herself is responsible, she feels a different kind of madness, the madness of grief. She knows that her refusal to accept Dionysus as god has brought about her ruin, and the ruin of her family. Cadmus and Agave realize that for the good of the city, they and what’s left of their family should leave.
When Dionysus appears to Cadmus in the palace the old king says, “Dionysos, hear our prayer. We did wrong.” “You’ve learned too late, far too late,” Dionysos says. “Yes. yyes. But your retaliation is too much.” “I am a God, and you insulted me! Dionysos replies. “Gods should not resemble humans in their anger,” said the old king. “My father Zeus approved all this a long time ago,” answers Dionysus. (Carson translation)
And that’s the end of “The Bacchae.”
In his translation of this play, Paul Roche writes, “The play shows that there exists a dark underside to life, shrouding more than the mind can know. To war against it is to war against the elemental in one’s own nature and to cut oneself off from primary knowledge–that accumulation of primitive experience which goes to make a human being. […] Those that divorce themselves from the vibrant potency of nature are the very ones in greatest danger of losing their reason, which is the control that keeps the supernatural in its context precisely by recognizing it.”
If you are familiar with the work of C.G. Jung, you recognize this insight. Your attitude toward the many personages in your being, to the diverse players that comprise your personality, to dreams and your soul life, has much to do with their expression and the way they shape you and your world. Friendly curiosity and attention can bring insight and creative energy to a moribund situation. But denial and repression can lead to an overpowering, overwhelming, even deadly irruption of unconscious forces that are beyond your control.
In writing this play for the Greeks as a commentary on the experiment of Athenian democracy and reason, Euripides was not championing the bloody rampage of Agave and the Theben women or even offering Dionysus as an alternative. The play doesn’t posit an “either/or,” as if we must choose between two approaches to life. Euripides dramatizes the pitfalls of an “either/or,” and in particular the pitfalls of a culture that thought that it could choose only reason and a form of civilized life, and thereby dismiss the presence of the irrational and wild, uncultured nature. He was also suggesting that when we take that stance, when we think that we can choose only one and ignore the other gods, we miss the brutality inherent in our choice. We know that reason, can also bring about tremendous forms of cruelty, do we not?
Jung called the over-attachment to reason a “one-sided consciousness.” This one-sidedness, in a culture or personality, is vulnerable to those powerful forces that have been driven into the unconscious. Jung often said that those who will not face something in their lives consciously will be forced to live it unconsciously, and experience it as fate. This is what happened to Pentheus and Agave and the people of Thebes. The antidote to this, the balancing the way to establish harmony between our inner light and dark, our reason and the so-called irrational, our natural nature and civilization, is the symbolic life, the soul life.
How many people today are numb from the effort of containing the longings for deep connection or the feelings, especially the grief, that rise up in response to the world’s catastrophes, beauty, and promise, because they seem unreasonable, impractical, or strange? How many people are addicted to alcohol, drugs, sex, or shopping because they lack culturally acceptable channels and pathways to the experiences of aliveness and spirit for which they yearn? How many people are acting out in crazy, brutal ways from a desperation that is beyond reason? And how far will we stretch the definitions of what is normal and reasonable before we admit that there are conjoined forces of a different type, at work?
Perhaps we can remember our place in nature and find release from what William Blake called ‘the mind-forged manacles,’ in the body, the earth, and the wonder these inspire. Perhaps we can recover the art and practice of the soul life. I see these things happening. I sense these openings in Western culture. “The Bacchae” is a gruesome story and yet Dionysus asks for what all of the Others want, recognition. The simple acts of attention and invitation.
I’m going to close by reading the end of Ann Carson’s translator note, provocatively titled “i wish i were two dogs then i could play with me.” First, I want to give a big welcome to new subscribers Jo, Jane K and Jane G, Michael, Ethereal Spirit, Claudia, Deborah, Athena, Reina, Ines, Alisa, AJ, Tequila, and. Thanks for subscribing for email announcements about the podcast and my other programs.
If you’re new to Myth Matters, I invite you to head over to the Mythic Mojo website, where you will find information about Myths Matters, a variety of ways to subscribe to this podcast, and also information about the other work that I do with people to use stories to gain insight into life.
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Now, here is the very end of Carson’s translator note. I’ll post a link to her book on my website, in case you are enjoying this translation too.
“The shock of the new
will prepare its own unveiling
in old and brutal ways.
Dionysus does not
explain or regret
anything. He is
pleased
if he can cause you to perform,
despite your plan,
despite your politics,
despite your neuroses,
despite even your Dionysian theories of self,
something quite previous,
the desire
before the desire,
the lick of beginning to know you don’t know.
If life is a stage,
that is the show.
Exit Dionysos.”
–Ann Carson, translator, “The Bakkhai”
How do you imagine the dark, in the world and in yourself? Where do you find the irrational? And what do you believe is found there?
And that’s it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Thank you so much for listening. Take good care of yourself, and until next time, happy mythmaking and keep the mystery in your life alive.
