Plays of Sophocles: Oedipus the King; Oedipus at Colonus; Antigone — Reading Notes

The Argument as a Guide to Action

The prose argument prefacing Oedipus the King condenses the entire myth into a single paragraph: an oracle foretold that Laius's son would kill his father and marry his mother; the infant was exposed on Mount Cithaeron; a shepherd rescued him; Oedipus later unknowingly fulfilled the prophecy. This summary is not part of the dramatic text but frames the reader's understanding before the first line of dialogue. Storr's translation retains the formal, almost legalistic tone of the argument—'the closing scene reveals Jocasta slain by her own hand and Oedipus blinded by his own act'—which contrasts with the emotional intensity of the scenes that follow. The argument thus functions as a map of events, allowing the reader to focus on how the characters navigate their fated paths.

Supplication and Civic Authority

In the opening of Oedipus the King, Oedipus encounters suppliants 'seated round the altar at the palace doors, at their head a Priest of Zeus.' He asks, 'Why sit ye here as suppliants, in your hands branches of olive filleted with wool?' The imagery of wool-wreathed olive branches signals a formal ritual of supplication, a practice deeply embedded in Greek civic and religious life. Oedipus's response—'Ruthless indeed were I and obdurate if such petitioners as you I spurned'—asserts his role as a just ruler who hears his people's pleas. This scene establishes a pattern: the plays repeatedly test how authority responds to those who seek help, whether from plague, exile, or burial rites. The excerpts show that supplication is not merely a plot device but a structural element that defines the relationship between ruler and subject.

Creon's Seizure and Theseus's Intervention

In Oedipus at Colonus, Creon forcibly seizes Antigone, declaring, 'I will lay hands on more than these two maids' and threatening Oedipus himself. The Chorus calls for resistance: 'To the rescue, one and all! Rally, neighbors to my call!' Theseus, summoned from the altar of Poseidon, intervenes with a speech that contrasts Creon's lawlessness with Athenian justice: 'Thou hast set aside the custom of the land, and like some freebooter art carrying off what plunder pleases thee.' Theseus's language—'a State that champions right and asks for every action warranty of law'—explicitly frames the conflict as one between arbitrary force and legal order. The scene dramatizes how the plays use physical confrontation to explore the boundaries of legitimate power, a theme that recurs across all three works.

Storr's translation preserves the formal, rhetorical quality of Sophocles' Greek while making the plays accessible to an English-speaking reader. The prose arguments and stage directions provide context without intruding on the dialogue. Readers may find it useful to compare the argument's summary of events with the gradual revelation of those events in the drama itself, noting how Sophocles withholds information to build tension. The three plays together offer a sustained meditation on fate, justice, and the limits of human knowledge.

That rainy afternoon, tracing Oedipus’s plea and Theseus’s quiet authority, I kept thinking how power never quite softens, even when it tries to be just. Turning the page, I stumbled instead upon Galsworthy’s strike-room, where another old man’s rage and a daughter’s stubborn love tangled just the same. Strife: A Drama in Three Acts — Reading Notes felt less like a new book, more like the same thunder heard through different walls.