An examination of prominent women in Greek tragedy often reveals to the audience one crucial lesson: strong women should not be underestimated. No matter how loyal and innocuous a wife or mother may seem, it is often the fatal flaw of the woman's spouse to assume that the woman is not capable of sentiments and actions equal to those of her male counterparts. Nevertheless, the gruesome deeds often performed by tragic women cannot be discussed without criticism, and Aeschylus' Klytemnestra and Euripides' Medea are no exceptions to this rule. While the actions of both Klytemnestra and Medea can be somewhat justified based on the dire circumstances present in each woman's life, both women are undoubtedly guilty of despicable acts against others. Still, the lack of remorse present in the actions of Klytemnestra ultimately makes her a more dangerous woman of Greek tragedy. Moreover, I will also attempt to argue some reasons behind the motives of these two characters through an in-depth look at their respective portrayals, in an effort to help explain why one is more dangerous than another.
Aeschylus introduces Klytemnestra to the audience in his play Agamemnon as a dedicated and loyal wife who has been faithful to her husband since his departure for Troy. She initially reveals herself to the audience as a woman "who has / not broken the seal upon her in the length of days" (L609-10). In fact, the audience may initially be sympathetic towards Klytemnestra for the loss of her child, while feeling reproach for her husband, Agamemnon, who sacrificed their child Iphigeneia "to stay the strength of war" (L225). However, the first clue as to the potential danger of Klytemnestra is revealed when the leader of the chorus approaches her "in reverence of [her] power" (L258). I propose that this line characterizes the metis of Klytemnestra, a powerful tool that will aid her in her later quest to avenge her daughter's death, and a trait that ancient men might believe contributed to her danger. If she can assume the responsibilities of the throne while her husband is away, then the logical assumption would be that she is capable of the actions of men in a number of capacities. Nevertheless, she declares that the return of her husband has provided her a "griefless heart," and the audience watches Klytemnestra eagerly approach the chariot of the returning Agamemnon (L895).
These early characterizations would lead the audience to believe that Klytemnestra is simply a woman who was so devoted to her husband that she was willing to accept the duties of the throne for the duration of his absence. Nevertheless, this characterization begins to quickly be questioned when she asks Agamemnon to walk on a bright carpet on the way to the palace door against his wishes. Agamemnon responds to her wishes by stating that "[her] lust for conflict is not womanlike" (L940). This line causes the audience to ask themselves if they are witnessing womanlike tendencies in Klytemnestra, or if indeed she is exhibiting the actions of a man; if this be the case, they must question what she is ultimately capable of. Klytemnestra finally lures both Agamemnon and the lover that he has returned with from Troy into the palace, where she proceeds to stab and kill them both. Not only is this close-combat killing a type of murder that would not usually be associated with a woman, but to further perpetuate her image as a dangerous female, she expresses no remorse after the fact, and claims that her actions were committed in "strength of righteousness" (L1406). Klytemnestra even informs the chorus that she stabbed her husband three times, the third blow felling him "When he was down" (L1385). Her lack of regret for her actions and the fact that she continues to believe that her actions were justified despite the protests of the chorus allow one to conclude that she is the most dangerous type of person: one who believes she has nothing to lose, and one who is self-righteous to the point that she will do whatever it takes to further her own personal agenda. Finally, the fact that she had already taken a lover by the name of Aegisthus in Agamemnon's absence, coupled with her closing remark of "forget them, dearest [we] / have the power," illustrates an obsession with and potential abuse of power, which are both dangerous in their own right (L1672-3).
Euripides tells a story in his play entitled Medea of a character whose actions rival those of the oft-dangerous Klytemnestra. Medea is spurned by the man she loves most when her husband "takes to bed a royal bride" (337). Medea is visibly shaken and devastated by the affair of her husband; according to the Nurse, "she does not eat, [she] lies prostrate slumped in anguish" (337). Nevertheless, the Nurse foreshadows the actions of Medea when she calls her a "dangerous woman," and utters that "anyone who crosses her will not easily sing a song of triumph" (338). Beyond losing her husband and potentially her children, Medea sacrificed the life of her brother to flee her home with Jason. Medea not only struggles with these burdens, but the father of Jason's new bride soon attempts to push Medea "out and over the border" (346). Soon thereafter, Medea becomes invigorated with her feelings of betrayal and disbelief. When approached by Jason, she tells him, "first things first, / I saved your life" (353). Because of the multitude of unfortunate occurrences in Medea's life, it may be easy for the audience to have some compassion for her; Medea appears to be a concerned mother, as she is seen with "dewy eyes" after hearing that Jason will be keeping their children. However, her tears quickly turn into hatred for Jason, and she actively seeks to destroy everything precious to him. She soon realizes that she must go after the two things Jason cherishes the most: his new lover, and his children.
Medea obviously values the lives of her children, as she is constantly appearing unable to carry out what she feels she must do: murder his husband's lover, and kill her own children. In speaking to herself, she says, "Stop me my heart / Spare your sons," but ultimately her want to ruin the life of Jason outweighs her inhibitions (376). Medea is also clearly frustrated with the position that she has found herself in, as she says "How pointless / my nursing all your growing up," and she ultimately allows all of these emotions to accumulate inside of her. This accumulation results in her using metis to bring about the downfall of Jason's royal bride, and her using the sword to end the lives of her children, just as Klytemnestra used the sword to end the lives of those who wronged her. Medea's actions are indeed despicable and abhorrent, but she succeeds in her mind by "[killing Jason] too with childlessness," and by "[refusing] to let [Jason] / set [their] wedded life aside and make [her] cheap" (387-88). Finally, while Medea's actions are equally as detestable as those carried out by Klytemnestra, I deem Medea the less dangerous of the two because of the fact that she experienced remorse for the deaths of her sons, and because I do not believe she would ever repeat such actions.
Aeschylus' Klytemnestra and Euripides' Medea are two equally troubled women who were placed in incredibly unenviable situations. They both were overwhelmed by the power of the love for their spouses and children, and they became somewhat incontrollable when that love was betrayed. They were overcome with madness after their husbands returned home with new lovers, and this anger towards their respective husbands was ultimately what triggered the unsettling events that concluded each play. Additionally, they both shared a deep bond with their children, and this bond was also evident in the actions of their "end game." Nevertheless, one can debate that it was more disturbing that Medea killed everyone but Jason perhaps as a way of getting back at him and allowing him to suffer the losses of those close to him; however I would argue that this illustrates the fact that Medea is more troubled than Klytemnestra, not more dangerous. Klytemnestra ultimately can be deemed the most dangerous of the two because of the fact that she is hungry for power, and one gets the feeling that she would be willing to commit murder on many subsequent occasions in which she felt her power was being threatened.
Bibliography
Grene, David and Lattimore, Richmond. Greek Tragedies Volume 1: Second Edition. University of Chicago Press: 1960. pp. 5-60.
Roche, Paul. Euripides 10 Plays. Signet Classic: 1998. pp. 336-390.