THE WORLD OF TRAGEDY
  • Syllabus
  • Unit One
    • Aristotle's Poetics
    • Ancient Greek Theater
    • Oedipus the King
    • Antigone
    • Medea
    • Playing the Other
    • The Birth of Tragedy
    • The Mourning Voice
    • Lars von Trier's Medea
    • Cherrie Moraga's The Hungry Woman
    • A Theory of Adaptation
  • Unit Two
    • Early Modern Theater
    • Richard III
    • THEATER EXCURSION
    • Original Practices
    • Women of Richard III
    • Hamlet
    • Notorious Identity
    • Shakespeare's Ghost Writers/King in the Car Park
    • Mock Hamlet Exam
    • Hamlet 2
  • ASSIGNMENTS
    • Student Website Assignments
    • MEDEA ESSAY SAMPLES
    • THEATER REVIEW GUIDELINES
    • THEATER REVIEW MODEL
    • FINAL PAPER HAMLET
    • TIPS FOR FINAL PAPER
  • Resources
    • WHAT WE LEARNED
    • Glossary
    • Further Reading
    • Professor Walsh Recommends
    • Places and Projects
    • The World of Tragedy
    • FINAL PAPERS
  • TECH
    • A History of Hamlet
    • Paul
    • Estella
    • Estella
    • Estella
  • FINAL PAPERS
    • Hamlet: Jedi Knight
    • The Lion King
    • Game of Thrones
    • House of Cards
    • Shakespeare's Hamlet
    • Sopranos
    • Tragic Women
    • Waiting for Godot
    • Films of Tim Burton
    • Miley Cyrus
Victorians’ Secret: The Fascination with Ophelia’s Death in Hamlet

by Eva (Yunfei) Li


The fascination with the dead woman has not been a novel concept. Think of Antigone,
Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, or even Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web (an
anthropomorphic spider, but a female spider nonetheless). The deaths of all of these female
characters were necessary for the progression of each of their respective plots. Tragedy dictates
that the audience sees the suffering of the body on stage to let the audience feel the suffering
along with the characters and to have catharsis when the suffering ends. But what is it about the
dead woman that makes the corpse so fascinating? Death strips a woman of her agency as a
character, leaving behind only the physicality of her person, emphasizing the importance of the
aesthetic for female characters. This could not be more true than for the death of Ophelia in
William Shakespeare’s play Hamlet. Ophelia has long been the subject of Victorian paintings,
becoming one of the most-painted characters in literature. More specifically, Ophelia’s death by
drowning has often been the subject of these paintings, rather than Ophelia alive at any other
moment of the play. This begs the question: what makes Ophelia’s death so much more
interesting than any other point in her life when she had consciousness and agency? Was it
because she died with “fantastic garlands” made of “crowflowers, nettles, daisies and long
purples” (IV.vii.192-193), surrounded by flowers when she died? Was it because of her decent
into madness? Whatever the reason, Ophelia’s death makes it clear that the fascination with dead
female bodies lies in the valuing women for their appearance and not depth as a character—
Ophelia, when alive, makes for a much more interesting subject than her dead.

“Drowned, drowned”, Gertrude says about Ophelia’s death, “Her clothes spread wide,/
And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up, […] But long it could not be/Till that her garments,
heavy with their drink/Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay/To muddy death” (IV.vii.
200-208). Her description of someone who died from drowning is a delicate one, making her
death beautiful, but obviously, the physiological effects of drowning are often not as pretty as
Gertrude describes (bloating of the body, quicker rates of decomposition, etc.). So why would
Gertrude want to describe Ophelia’s body like this? The preservation of the idea of her beauty
should hold no effect to how Ophelia lived her life, but Gertrude tells Laertes and Claudius the
sugarcoated version of the story anyways.

This preservation of Ophelia’s beauty can be seen in the famous painting Ophelia by John
Everett Millais (Figure 1). Floating in the river she later drowns in, all of her body almost
submerged under water, Ophelia is portrayed in a posture that seems like she is singing. The look
on her face is a deadened one—there seems to be no emotion. This is after her decent into
madness, and shortly before she drowns. She is surrounded by foliage, the same willow and
floral garlands that Gertrude makes reference to in her description of Ophelia. Her dress, almost
the same color as the water in the river she is floating in, seems to blend in with her
surroundings. The flowers surrounding her body are the most colorful part of the painting.
Millais has been hailed for his accurate depiction of a natural landscape in the painting. Indeed, it
almost seems to be Millais’s intention to fully incorporate Ophelia within the nature surrounding
her, making her a part of the river-plants environment. The obvious focus is not on what Ophelia
is doing, but what she looks like. From her passive body positioning (floating) and her lack of
expression on her face, Ophelia is effectively objectified by being portrayed as a part of nature.

Similarly, Alexandre Cabanel’s Ophelia portrays Ophelia as she is dying in the river
(Figure 2). Unlike Millais’s depiction, however, Ophelia takes a much more theatrical position in
her downfall. Ophelia, in this painting, has just fallen and broken the branch (described by
Gertrude as “an envious sliver” (IV.vii.198) and is barely submerged in the water, only one of her
legs completely immersed. Instead, she seems to be sitting in a shallow part of the river (with no
imminent danger of drowning present), her dress dispersed on the surface of the river. One of her
arms is outstretched upwards, like she is attempting to grasp onto something, but in an effortless
kind of way. There are flowers in her hair, as well on the river. The use of color for Ophelia in
this painting is distinct from Millais’s Ophelia in that Ophelia is clearly the brightest subject in
her surroundings. The willow, water and plants are all painted with dark and dull olives, grays
and blacks but Ophelia stands out in her pale skin, her regal blue, white, gold and pink dress and
her red and white flower garlands in her hair. There is no desire to camouflage Ophelia into her
surroundings in this painting, just to portray the beauty of her dying. What Cabanel’s painting
and Millais’s painting have in common is the similar expression on Ophelia’s face—one of no
emotion. Someone who has clearly given up with trying to live, someone who is already quietly
dying. The emphasis, again, is on the aesthetic value of Ophelia’s death rather than her life.
Neither Cabanel’s nor Millais’s Ophelia is actively struggling to grasp onto her life (and perhaps
this validates the claims of suicide expressed in the play) and both are accepting of their demise.

This focus on the end of Ophelia’s life is reductive to her character in the play—no doubt
she had a more important part in Hamlet in her life rather than her death, but the fascination lies
within her death because of the aesthetic value in a dead woman. A depiction of a dead woman is
stripped of her agency and can serve easily as an almost pornographic and voyeuristic visual for
audiences, solely using her body as a commodity for entertainment and pleasure.

Undeniably, the true value in Ophelia is in her actions throughout the play, not her death
(which is not even depicted on stage, just in Gertrude’s description). Ophelia is a complex
character that can be interpreted in a number of different ways. Was she just a victim, complacent
in fulfilling her father’s orders? Did she really love Hamlet and instead, wanted to help him by
being part of a secret plan? Perhaps she really did want to hurt Hamlet for ruining her promising
prospects for a healthy marriage. These are all more compelling to think about than her death.

For example, Edwin Austin Abbey painted the “play within a play” scene (Figure 3), an
event marked distinctly, for Ophelia, by Hamlet’s lewd and sexual harassment towards her. This
painting depicts Hamlet and Ophelia sitting closely together with Claudius and Gertrude in the
back. Hamlet is leisurely laying on the floor with his head leaning against Ophelia, on what
seems to be a carpet made of wolf skins. Ophelia has her arm slightly draped over Hamlet, but it
is obviously from her posture that she is not happy with his proximity. Indeed, in the play, she
tries to maintain a sense of dignity when talking to Hamlet—after all, they had just recently
broken up, and Hamlet had just insulted her by telling her to go to a nunnery. This is clearly seen
within this painting by Ophelia’s body language—it is hesitant to fully physically commit to any
sort of display of affection. The audience can only assume that the Ophelia Abbey is depicting
here is an Ophelia that is loyal to her father, perhaps, knowing that her romance with Hamlet was
best severed. This is not the Ophelia of the conspiracy that states that she has a secret alliance
with Hamlet. This is a proud Ophelia, one with her head held high, one that knows better than to
display anger towards Hamlet’s remarks, and one that is, most importantly, alive. The focus in
this painting is no longer on her physical body and beauty, but the tension between Hamlet and
Ophelia (and the king and queen in the background, perhaps).

Similarly, in Pierre Auguste Cot’s Ophelia (Figure 4), Ophelia is alive. This is the
Ophelia right before Hamlet approaches her and tells her to “get to a nunnery”. She has a red
book in her hands, which is the one that she pretends to read before Hamlet comes into the room.
The most interesting part of the painting is that Ophelia is looking at the audience straight on—if
it were a camera, she would be making eye contact with the lens. The look on her face can be
interpreted in a number of ways. Ophelia has a slight smile on her face—why? Her father had
just told her to theoretically betray the man she loves. Is this the Ophelia that is conspiring with
Hamlet? Or is she happy to test Hamlet’s madness? Ophelia’s head is also angled slightly
downward, but her gaze is straight ahead, making her expression slightly deviant. Does this show
a willingness or even a desire to go behind Hamlet’s back? Or does it imply something like
cooperation between the two? The light hits Ophelia from the side above, making her half of her
body well lit with the other in shadows. This is intentional—Cot wanted to make his Ophelia up
for interpretation. Cot had to have known Ophelia’s potential as a complex and diverse character
in order for him to paint an Ophelia with so much left to decipher. Regardless of which Ophelia
Cot wanted to portray, his adaptation of her character has much more depth to her intention and
motivation in the nunnery scene than the Ophelia of either Cabanel’s or Millais’s paintings of her
drowning.

Ophelia is a complex character. She is clearly distraught between her love for Hamlet as
she witnesses him descend into madness and her loyalty to her father. Her first appearance in the
play, a conversation first between her and Laertes and then her father, shows her subtle desire to
rebel against the powers that be. Her father presses her about her relationship with Hamlet, to
which Ophelia replies, “I do not know, my lord, what I should think” (I.iii.113) and “My lord, he
hath importuned me with love/In honorable fashion/And hath given countenance to his speech,
my lord,/With almost all the holy vows of heaven” (I.iii.119-123). She spends the majority of the
scene defending Hamlet’s affection for her to her father, but when her father finally asks her not
to see Hamlet again, Ophelia simply says “I shall obey, my lord” (I.iii.145). It seems
counterintuitive to spend several lines of conversation defending Hamlet only to acquiesce to her
father’s command. Ophelia must know that she cannot go against her father right to his face—
she has to see Hamlet for herself. Thus, subsequent moments with Ophelia on stage are up to
either the reader’s interpretation or the director’s intention. When Ophelia says that Hamlet came
into her room while she was sewing wearing clothes that were dirty and ripped, does she actually
mean that moment actually happened? Or did she confront Hamlet, the man she clearly loved
and defended against her father in order to construct a plan that would help both of them end up
together? Why else would she sit with Hamlet during the play even though he was being
obscenely rude towards her? What ultimately caused her decent into madness and death—
Hamlet’s apparent rejection of her, or her father’s pressure?

These questions can help readers of Shakespeare understand that Ophelia is more than the
tragic victim of her father, Hamlet and her madness. She was in love with a man bent on revenge,
who ultimately placed that above his relationship with her. She is more than the girl who
drowned in the river covered in flowers—she is a character of complexity, of different and
conflicting motives, but most importantly, of strength until the end. She is more than her dead
body.


Women and Their Discontent: The Impact of Social Norms in Greek and Shakespearean Literature

Stephen Falzone
 

            When one thinks of plays with great female characters throughout literary history, names such as Antigone and Medea are sure to come to mind. As the protagonists in their namesake plays, they are memorable characters for their strength and perseverance against their male-dominated agendas. Names like Elizabeth and Lady Anne from Richard III frequently fail to make lasting impressions on their audiences as a result of their weaker personalities. These women from Greek and Shakespearean literature act significantly differently in response to corrupt actions by a powerful, influential and more often than not, intimidating male leader. Greek literary woman had a much larger impact on their societies than Shakespearean woman because they are significantly stronger characters due to societal norms that gave them more opportunities to make a meaningful impression.

            Greek writers were affected by these social norms in such a way that allowed women to influence their surroundings on a similar level as their male counterparts. Despite the fact that they were probably treated as inferior beings in reality, as they were excluded from various privileges such as performing female roles, their powerful presences in tragedies still persists. This could be due to the existence of a variety of female gods with different roles in ancient traditions that allowed for the diversity of female roles in storytelling that ranged from loud characters like Antigone to her more reserved sister Ismene.

Sophocles, as one of Greece’s renowned playwrights, portrayed Antigone as a powerful woman who was unafraid to speak her mind about Creon’s rule. Her outrage against Creon and her willingness to die for her cause is admirable; her status as a woman basically denied her any chances of winning an argument against a king. Her reaction was possibly two-pronged. She could have simply been fighting against Creon’s edict because she believed she had a moral responsibility to bury her brother. She also could have been fighting the system of Creon’s government. However, what is important to take from Antigone was that she ultimately made a difference in the course of the plot, despite being a second class citizen. In fact, only she could have forced Creon’s hand. A man could not argue from the side of burying his brother because funeral rites were reserved for women in ancient Greece. If Antigone were only fighting to bring down Creon’s government without her justified cause of rebellion, she would not have proved as successful. She made the choice, suffered the consequence of death, and made significant change.

In Oedipus the King, Jocasta has a moment of recognition when she discovers that she is her husband’s mother. She luckily realizes this before Oedipus, and this is where she shows her strength through her emotion. Jocasta becomes enraged at Oedipus for his curiosity and does everything in her power to prevent him from knowing the truth. She commands Oedipus, “Stop – in the name of god, if you love your own life, call off this search! My suffering is enough” (Sophocles 222). This shows she was willing to bear the suffering for both of them. However, upon Oedipus’s recognition, she commits suicide. While many would interpret this as the action of a weak female, Jocasta’s action shows her true love for Oedipus. She died so that Oedipus could continue to live. Upon the discovery of Jocasta’s corpse, Oedipus rips off the brooches and stabs himself in the eyes crying, “You, you’ll see no more the pain I suffered, all the pain I caused!” (Sophocles 237). Her death was responsible for his further recognition of Jocasta’s pain, and ultimately his exile from Thebes. If this had not occurred, Oedipus would have probably attempted to continue ruling and would have fallen to an even worse fate than blindness and exile.

Euripides was more of feminist playwright than Sophocles, as evident through a chorus composed of Corinthian women and Medea due to her intense actions. While Antigone and Jocasta were strong women, Medea takes the idea of a strong female character to a new level. Despite what many think about the morality of Medea’s deeds, she fundamentally shows that she is not to be taken lightly. The instance that best shows this is her reaction to Jason leaving her for Glauce. Before Jason left Medea, she had surrendered to her initial feelings about childbirth. Early in the play, Medea declares that she would “rather stand three times in the front line than bear one child” (Euripides 25). She obviously developed a deep love for Jason in order to break this promise for him. Her murder of Glauce, Creon and her own children shows how betrayed she felt. These actions are often described as masculine, especially by Froma Zeitlin. Medea was able to transcend the view on her gender and stereotypical treatment of women in order to perform her forceful actions.

Greek women often contrast with Shakespearean women in their actions and personalities. Shakespeare wrote the women in his plays to coincide with the social norms of the age: weak and submissive. The majority were treated as second-class citizens that existed in order to move the plot forward. Some of his female characters like Ophelia, however, are very strong, but ultimately are unfortunately used as a means to an end. Other characters, such Lady Anne, actually are quite disappointing and painful to read as a result of how stereotypes end up controlling their actions.

Lady Anne in Richard III unfortunately falls victim to the silver tongue of Richard. The moment where she exposes her feminine weakness is in the famous scene where Richard ultimately tricks her into promising to marry him. How anyone could marry, let alone be in the same presence of the murderer of one’s spouse and father is beyond comprehension. Even in the beginning of the scene, Richard threatens the guards, and Anne refers to him as the devil (Shakespeare 20). He even goes as far to admit his murder of her father King Henry, whose corpse lays in front of them. Nothing in this scene would be possible in reality. Had Lady Anne been written by a Greek playwright, one could be assured that she would take up her sword and impale Richard. A Greek woman would also not have idly stood by as she was murdered. Shakespeare blatantly has shown his social bias throughout this scene.

Much like Lady Anne, former Queen Elizabeth was also forced into verbal combat with the malicious Richard. The argument displays the guile of Richard in his attempt to marry her daughter Elizabeth, and once again Shakespeare shows the feebleness of the female character in his plays. At first, however, she is potent throughout the argument, and actually succeeds in exposing Richard as a true villain to the audience. She gives some hope in the existence of a strong Shakespearean woman, and her character seems extremely powerful in the live Globe production. Richard, being the sore loser that he is, retaliates with the threat of genocide should Elizabeth fail to hand over her daughter. After Elizabeth abides, Richard calls her a “Relenting fool and shallow, changing woman!” (Shakespeare 324). This, however, is an unfair interpretation of Elizabeth. While the former queen accepts Richard’s “offer,” she disproved everything in Richard’s argument. While her character lacks the drive of a Greek character, she is undoubtedly stronger than Shakespeare portrays her, but is nonetheless reduced to the stereotype that pervaded Victorian England. She basically existed in this scene to show how dastardly Richard was. Perhaps if Elizabeth were written by Euripides, Richard would have never gotten the chance to speak, let alone succeed.

In the Shakespearean tragedy of Hamlet, the audience is introduced to the character of Ophelia, the love interest for Hamlet. Unlike other female characters written by Shakespeare, she is determined, competent, and memorable as well. Ophelia frequently trades verbal attacks with Hamlet. Some instances of her amazing wit are shown in her conversations with him. For example, she fends off Hamlet’s attacks in the “Get thee to a nunnery” scene: she answers questions with more questions, and possibly insults him by using subtle sarcasm. What is so interesting about Ophelia is that no one knows what she thinks. Her motives are a mystery, even to Hamlet. However, despite her competency, she is also treated like an invalid just before her death as she is declared mad by most of the characters, including her own father. The cause of her madness is totally unexplained, which leads to the conclusion that the cause is not totally attributable to any single character. What makes the most sense is that this was an unfortunate choice by the playwright. It is as if Shakespeare wanted to quickly progress the story, and thusly made some foolish, rash decisions in having Ophelia perish as well as Hamlet returning to Denmark through a deus ex machina. These choices lead to rushed ending that murdered who was essentially the most interesting character in the play. Much like her fellow female Shakespearean characters, Ophelia was subject to the norms of the times, and as a result was thrown away.

Social perceptions of women in Greek and Shakespearean literature clearly have shown to make an impact of the action of the characters in their respective tragedies. Shakespearean characters like Lady Anne were put into the play merely to show how strong the male protagonist is, whereas Greek women like Antigone assume the consequences of breaking the law. It is apparent that most Shakespearean women were meant to serve as a sort of framework for the protagonist, and Greek women were offered more of an opportunity to display leadership and intelligence. Even Ismene was given a chance to make an impact in Antigone. What makes her a special case is the ambiguity with regards to who buried Polynices the first time. Since this remains a mystery, it is not outlandish to believe that Ismene buried her brother at night. Even though she is interpreted as weaker than her sister, she made more of an impact in Antigone than any of the female characters in Shakespearean literature. These social perceptions have greatly skewed female action in literature. One would wonder what actions Ophelia would have taken had she not gone mad.             

      

Works Cited

Euripides. Medea and Other Plays. Trans. Philip Vellacott. N.p.: Penguin Group, n.d. Print.

Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Richard III. Ed. Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine.

New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004. Print.

Sophocles. The Three Theban Plays: Antigone, Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus. Trans.

Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Group, 1982. Print.

                                                               


Different Eras, Different Women: Attitudes and Actions in Ancient Greece and the Elizabethan Era

by Jenna Kocsis

            While women continuously are crucial characters in the theater, the women in Greek tragedies differ drastically from the women in Shakespearean theater as seen through their passion, individualism, and manipulation. Shakespearean women prove submissive and helpless while the women in Greek tragedy tend to follow more after their favorite female goddesses who embody strength, beauty, and power.

            Zeitlin in her critical essay, Playing the Other: Gender and Society in Classical Greek Literature, stresses the fact that theater has a very feminine side. While Zeitlin claims that the women are never an end in themselves in any Greek play, she does stress the strong association between the feminine and the Greek theater (343, 347). Both these facts also seem to hold true for Shakespearean theater. In Richard III and Hamlet, the strong male role, Richard III and Hamlet, are accompanied by females who often overshadow their male counterparts in certain scenes, as seen by Queen Elizabeth, Lady Anne, Ophelia, and Gertrude.  Yet, the end of the play never changes anything for these women and they are still the males submissive counterpart. Zeitlin cites this power struggle women endure when she says, “Even when female characters struggle with the conflicts generated by the particularities of their subordinate social position, their demands for identity and self-esteem are still designed primarily for exploring the male project of selfhood in the larger world” (347). Zeitlin claims that the representation of the body and the plot itself are among the reasons the theater is strongly associated with the feminine. She writes, “Men too have bodies, of course, but in a system defined by gender the role of representing the corporeal side of life in its helplessness and submission to constraints is primarily assigned to women” (352). She also claims females normally cause the men to suffer or die in the theater (352). Revolving around the plot, Zeitlin asserts that women often control the plot and continually manipulate the men (357). Female manipulation is seen heavily in the Greek tragedy Medea, yet the idea of female helplessness is not clear in Antigone or Medea, rather more in Shakespearean theater with the presentations of Gertrude and Ophelia.

            While Greek plays included many female characters, women were forbidden from participating and from viewing these plays. These Greek plays were strictly for males who were drawn to the theater to escape from women and possibly try and understand them. Women in classical Greece were contained to the house with their main responsibilities revolving around managing the household and bearing children. They had no rights as citizens and their own perception was instilled in them through behavioral instruction in the home, through myths stressing social values, and through participation in rituals educating them in the community’s values (Hemingway). Even though women seemed far below the men, the Greeks worshiped and admired many female goddesses such as Artemis, Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera. Some select women in ancient Greece held the sacred office of priestess whose roles were equal and comparable to those of men (Connelly, 2). These priestesses were chosen based on pedigree, wealth, health, and wholeness (Connelly, 29). They held very important roles in religious affairs and were in charge of linking the community with the gods, their ancestors, and other ancestral customs. Priestesses led every stage of the rituals including processionals, offerings, prayers, libations, and sacrifices (Connelly, 166). These women had high status and were allowed outside of the home, drastically differing from the common Greek woman.

            In the Elizabethan era during the time Shakespeare was writing, women were also seen as far below their male counterparts. While they were allowed in the audiences of plays, they were not allowed to perform. Women were denied education beyond the basics of reading and writing unless they were very wealthy and could hire a tutor. While women of the court such as Queen Elizabeth received a great education, major limits were still holding women back from pursuing a career. Even if a woman was educated, it was more to prepare them for a life in the domestic sphere filled with making the home life more pleasant and with helping her husband. All women’s freedoms were given and taken away by her husband (Papp and Kirkland).

            The social norms of classical Greece and the Elizabethan era can be highly seen in their plays. While both societies placed women far beneath the men, the Greeks also worshiped  female goddesses and held women in high regard in the role of priestess. These practices led to the creation of characters such as Medea and Antigone who were not afraid to speak out and fight for what they believed. Even though these women were not goddesses, they mirrored the actions of priestesses who were active outside of the house and heavily involved in religious customs. They also looked up to the Greek goddesses with whom they drew strength and resolve. While Queen Elizabeth held the throne in the Shakespearean era, the idea of the weak common female in England never changed. Queen Elizabeth was only the second Queen of England and the first queen, Queen Mary, married immediately to appease the court. In fact, Mary’s father tried everything to keep her away from the throne due to her sex. While Queen Elizabeth’s successful years on the throne did change the way history viewed future queens, Elizabeth at the time did not fully stifle the belief that women were weak and unsuited to rule (Castor). Women were still seen as far beneath man. This was clearly evident in the portrayal of Gertrude in Hamlet. As soon as her husband King Hamlet died, she could not fend for herself and needed to marry his brother Claudius immediately. It was also seen when Ophelia was thrown around by every male doing their will without ever speaking what was on her mind. Even though Queen Elizabeth was on the throne in Richard III, she never truly had any power over any other male characters. Richard III still inflicted his will upon every person in his way to the throne.   

            Antigone in Sophocles’ Greek play Antigone consistently went against the social norms that accompanied her social status and fought for what she believed. Antigone sought to have her brother Polynices buried against Creon’s decree. Regardless of this ban, Antigone knew her brother needed to be buried and mourned. While Antigone is trying to convince Ismene to help her, Ismene says, “Remember we are women, we’re not born to contend with men” (lines 74-75). Ismene knew her social status and did not tempt to stray, yet Antigone would not let up responding, “Do as you like, dishonor the laws the gods hold in honor” (lines 91-92). Antigone is completely straying from the classical perception of ancient Greek women and following more of the actions of a priestess. She knows the importance of burying the dead, honoring the gods, and following sacred rituals. Antigone fulfills her plan of burying her brother and in that action is controlling the plot. The following scenes in the play all result from the fact Antigone achieved her goal: Antigone, Haemon, and Eurydice all commit suicide leaving Creon left with no one. Antigone fails to be helpless and submissive and she disregards her normal social status as a woman to act on what she believes. Before Antigone died, she gained strength from recalling the death of the Greek goddess Niobe (lines 915-924). Niobe died weeping for her children whom were killed by Apollo and Artemis out of Titan Leo’s spite. A goddess dying in tears for her family is something Antigone could relate to and an act she could easily replicate.

            The females in Shakespearean playwrights such as Gertrude and Ophelia in Hamlet never seem able to stand on their own. They are consistently waiting for their male counterparts to tell them what to do and what to think. Gertrude fulfills Zeitlin’s claim of helplessness and submissiveness when the first thing she does after her husband dies, is marry his brother. She proves unable to stand alone as Queen of Denmark angering her son Hamlet. Hamlet says, “And yet, within a month (let me not think on’t; frailty, thy name is woman!), a little month, or ere those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father’s body, like Niobe, all tears-why she, (O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason would have mourned longer!), married with my uncle” (act 1. scene 2. lines 149-156). Hamlet picks up on this frailty of her mother and is not happy with it. He believes she can be stronger and more independent and is greatly angered at her demand for a man. He even cites the Greek goddess Niobe whose mourning never ceased as someone Gertrude should be mirroring. Hamlet’s lover Ophelia is another female character in Shakespearean theater who exhibits this weakness and frailty. She is continually pushed around by Polonius, Laertes, and Hamlet that it eventually leads to her mental breakdown and death. While her father and brother are cautioning her about Hamlet’s love and telling her to end it, she responds with answers such as “I do not know, my lord, what I should think” (act 1. scene 3. line 113) and “I shall obey my lord” (act 1. scene 4. line 145). Ophelia cannot think for herself and cannot make her own decisions. For parts of the play, Ophelia seems that she truly loves Hamlet and has feelings for him, yet she continually disregards them in order to do her father’s will. She is placed in a hostile situation with Hamlet to see if she is the cause of his madness. Hamlet attacks her questioning her and all other women. He cries out demanding her to a nunnery in order to stop her from breeding sinners (act 3. scene 1. lines 131-132). Ophelia never stands up for what she wants or believes and never disagrees with the men in her life. This behavior is consistent with that of women in the Elizabethan era. Their only jobs were to run the household and obey the men.

            The female characters in Greek tragedy and Shakespearean plays vastly differ in their countenance, actions, and personalities. The behaviors of these women greatly reflected their roles in society during their respective eras. While both societies held women in low regard with few rights, Greeks worshipped female goddesses and some women even held the highly respected role of a priestess in society. Women during the Elizabethan era were solely focused on making their husbands happy by running the household and having children. Zeitlin claims a reason for men playing female roles in the theater is for men to undergo an inversion and learn more about a woman’s behaviors and actions (345). Thus, women have played tremendous roles in the formation of history simply on the roles they played in the theater. They have influenced the way men view them and act towards them. How would a passive Antigone and a subdued Medea have affected future literature and history? How would a self supportive Gertrude and expressive Ophelia have influenced feminist texts and views? We can only imagine.

Works Cited

Castor, Helen. "Elizabeth I: Exception to the Rule." History Today 60.10 (2010). Web.

Connelly, Joan Breton. Portrait of a Priestess: Women and Ritual in Ancient Greece. Princeton,                NJ [u.a.: Princeton UP, 2010. Print.

Hemingway, Colette. "Women in Classical Greece". In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New               York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/                        wmna/hd_wmna.htm (October 2004)


"Niobe." Encyclopaedia Britannica. Encyclopaedia Britannica Online Academic Edition.                          Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 2013. Web. 16 Dec. 2013. http://www.britannica.com/                    EBchecked/topic/415802/Niobe.

Papp, Joseph, and Elizabeth Kirkland. "The Status of Women in Shakespeare's Time."                               EXPLORING Shakespeare. Detroit: Gale, 2003. Student Resources in Context. Web. 16                Dec. 2013.

Shakespeare, William, Barbara A. Mowat, and Paul Werstine. Hamlet. New York: Simon &                      Schuster Paperbacks, 2012. Print.

Zeitli, Froma I. “Playing the Other: Gender and Society in Classical Greek Literature.” Chicago: The University of Chigaco Press, Print.

Sophocles, Robert Fagles, and Bernard Knox. "Antigone." The Three Theban Plays.                                  Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England: Penguin, 1984. 59-128. Print.


 

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