Trojan Women: Introduction 1. Gods in the Trojan Women Two gods take the stage in the prologue to Trojan Women. Are these gods real or abstract? In the prologue, with its monologue by Poseidon followed by a dialogue between the master of the sea and Athena, we see them as real, as actors (perhaps statelier than us, and accoutered with their traditional props, a trident for the sea god, a helmet for Zeus’ daughter). They are otherwise quite ordinary people with their loves and hates and with their infernal flexibility whether moral or emotional. They keep their emotional side removed from humans, distance which will soon become physical. Poseidon cannot stay in Troy, because the citizens don’t worship him any longer. He may feel sadness or regret, but not mourning for the people who once worshiped but now are dead or soon to be dispersed. He is not present for the destruction of the towers that signal his final absence and the diaspora of his Phrygians. He takes pride in the building of the walls, perfected by the use of mason’s rules. After the divine departures, the play proceeds to the inanition of his and Apollo’s labor, with one more use for the towers before they are wiped from the face of the earth. Nothing will be left. It is true, as Hecuba claims, her last vestige of pride, the name of Troy remains, but the place wandered about throughout antiquity and into the modern age. At the end of his monologue Poseidon can still say farewell to the towers. At the end of the play there is nothing left to say farewell to. What is outside the play, even when predicted, is outside the play. What about the storm that Poseidon and Athena plot? No doubt it happened and was terrifying to those who survived and deadly to those who did not. But we, the audiences, know a thing or two about the homecomings of the Greeks. And we are reminded by Cassandra of the death of Agamemnon and her own, though details are missing. As for Odysseus we are treated to a long list of his sufferings before he reaches home. If we know anything about the future we know that Menelaus brought his wife back to Sparta where they entertained guests and told stories not quite flattering of each other. In Trojan Women’s one positive prayer, the chorus prays that the ship carrying Helen and Menelaus will be sunk. This, we know, does not happen. So, not everything outside the play is really outside the play. References to the Odyssey and epic in general make sure that as critics we are supposed to be aware of Homer and the traditional stories. Poseidon rues the destruction of cities: “turning them to emptiness” whether towers or tombs. The last scene is a burial: the baby Astyanax is buried, but the place of his burial will never be known. And perhaps that does not matter. As Hecuba implies, we do these things for the living. Finally, the gods are gone, the wall, towers, graves (including we must suppose Achilles’ memorial) are gone, the people, victors and vanquished, are gone. There can be no deus ex machina. Where would she stand? And where are the gods in the scenes that follow? —In Hecuba’s monody, she says this is not like the choral hymn to the gods (149–52): mourning is not the place for the gods. They are no longer needed. —In the first episode Cassandra, the mock-bride, invokes the gods in her wedding ritual, but it is pro forma (beginning at 310). —Hecuba calls on the gods (468) but at the same time admits they are worthless allies. Rather she calls on them to witness her suffering. Athena (65-6) had said she wanted to gladden the Trojans by causing a bitter homecoming for the Greeks. How could that alleviate the suffering of the Trojan women who would go down with their captors? Athena’s desire to help Troy is abstract heartless vengeance. —The first stasimon celebrates the Trojan Horse, the gift to Athena. The barbarity is caused only by the human agents. —The gods are absent in the second episode. Andromache speaks of their ill-will. With the inanition of Troy we see more and more that there is no place for gods. —The second stasimon celebrates the gods’ love for individual Trojans, Ganymede and Tithonus, now flown to the skies. The gods’ flexibility returns as a theme from the prologue. —Gods return in the third episode, beginning with Hecuba’s New Age prayer to Zeus or whatever (884–8). She imagines an abstract ruler of the universe dispensing an abstract Justice, because this is what she hopes from the scene. Justice, however, is not a major theme in the play. Helen resorts to use of the gods in telling of the infamous beauty contest and Cypris’ coming for her (924–41), but it is as if the gods are not separate gods but props or people she can use to play roles in her script (and Menelaus seems to agree when he suggests (1139–40) that Cypris is just brought along for a boast). Hecuba’s argument mocks Helen’s. Aphrodite is no more than an abstract, lust personified (989–90). Hecuba’s explanation is god-free. —The third stasimon returns to the gods’ putative betrayal of Troy. It ends with the only genuine prayer in the play: for the destruction of the ship carrying Menelaus and Helen (1099–1105). This does not happen in the tradition, though their ships are blown off course. Poseidon’s pact with Athena is only half-heartedly fulfilled, like everything the gods do. It is easily subsumed in something else. All the hopes and visions for the future were human. The gods betrayed them all and are now betraying the other side. Or simply watch, caring little for what we call human. We are left with some questions. Some ships will be lost at sea. Otherwise Poseidon is a red herring. But what of Cassandra’s muddled prophecy? Agamemnon will be murdered along with Cassandra, but not by her (as she proclaims). Odysseus will wander for ten years. But what of Hecuba whose last word is “life” as she is taken to Odysseus’ ship? Cassandra knows that her mother will die in Troy. Usually it is only the inner audience to whom Cassandra is incomprehensible or unbelievable. This time the outer audience, both the original fifth century one, all the way down to us, must be bemused by her words. Does Hecuba actually board Odysseus’ ship? Is Apollo so far absent that his prophetic virgin’s words have no credibility or truth even for people who know the story? 2.Victory and Defeat in Trojan Women In the prologue Poseidon makes clear that victors and vanquished are not so widely separated in time. The destruction of Troy is forever, but the destroyers will soon be destroyed: “He himself will die later,” Poseidon proclaims of the destroyer (97). Cassandra, however, in her scene makes the clearest case for undermining the distinction between victory and defeat. She enters in triumph to celebrate her wedding with the king who defeated her people. Talthybius, in perhaps his most insensitive moment, thinks it is great luck that the king has chosen her (259). All to Hecuba’s despair. Mother, cover my head with crowns of victory (353). Cassandra predicts she will kill Agamemnon and bring down his house in revenge for her brothers and father. But we know, the outer audiences through the ages, that it is more complicated than that. In fact she does not kill him in the story as it is known. Her major speech confounds the distinction between victory and defeat, but we must make certain assumptions to accept her conclusions. Yes, the Greeks won, but for the ten years of the war they suffered more than the Trojans, away from their families, dying and being buried or cremated in a strange land: but does that really matter to the dead or only to the living? Their surviving companions, overseeing the rites despaired for themselves and carried on the killing. For those years the Trojans lived maybe not a normal family life, but they returned home at the end of the fighting day, and if they died they were tended by their loved ones and buried in their own land. Hector, as the heroic defender of his people, has undying glory. Even Paris married Zeus’ daughter and has his own fame. Of course they are all dead, but this is another value that will be questioned in the play. I will come victorious to the dead after destroying the house of Atreus’ sons by whom we were ruined. (460–1) The next scenes are of relentless defeat and loss until Hecuba, not always the optimist, but refusing to give in to nihilism, suggests a glimmer of hope in the boy Astyanax who will one day grow up to resettle Troy (702–5). A hope immediately dashed by the reappearance of Talthybius. Andromache’s departure is one of utter defeat: “cover my body,” she moans, “and throw it on the ship.” And yet Hecuba’s hope of a resurrected Troy was not as foolish as one might think: we are reminded in the next stasimon that Troy was devastated before and still rose again (816–17).1 Talthybius tells Andromache not to make a fuss: she is one woman, no match for the Greek army, if she has hopes for the boy’s burial.