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38 pages 1 hour read

Sophocles

Oedipus Rex

Fiction | Play | Adult

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Pages 160-198Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Pages 160-170 Summary

Oedipus—the King of Thebes, who rose to power by solving the riddle of the Sphinx—asks a crowd of his wailing, lamenting citizens what’s wrong. A good king, he wants to ease their pain if he can. An old priest steps forward to speak for everyone: Plague, famine, and every other kind of ill fortune have beset Thebes. The citizens’ appeals to the gods do no good, so now they turn to their king, whom they consider “first of men, both in the common crises of our lives/and face-to-face encounters with the gods” (161).

Oedipus assures his people that these very sufferings have been weighing on his mind. He’s already sent his brother-in-law, Creon, to Apollo’s oracle at Delphi to ask what will alleviate Thebes’s misery. Oedipus will do whatever the oracle instructs him.

Just then, Creon himself returns wearing the laurel wreath of victory—seemingly a sign of good news. However, he doesn’t want to tell Oedipus the oracle’s message in front of everyone. When Oedipus insists, Creon reports the oracle’s words: “Drive the corruption from the land, / don’t harbor it any longer, past all cure, / don’t nurse it in your soul—root it out!” (164). In other words, people of Thebes must execute whoever killed the former king, Laius. But no one knows who that was: Laius set out to visit an oracle one day and never returned. The only survivor of the attack reported that a band of thieves was responsible. Oedipus vows that he’ll track them down.

A Chorus enters and sings an awe-struck hymn to Apollo, Zeus, Artemis, and Dionysus, praising the gods and begging them to do away with the horrible blight on their land.

Pages 171-187 Summary

Oedipus again addresses his people, commanding anyone who knows anything about Laius’s murder to speak to him. If one of the murderers himself should come forward, Oedipus will treat him mercifully, exiling him rather than killing him. No one speaks up, so Oedipus adds that it is every Theban’s duty to drive out the murderer if they know who he is. Appalled that Laius’s murder has gone uninvestigated for so long, he vows to “fight for him as if he were my father” (173).

A man in the crowd speaks up, observing that if Apollo knows there’s a murderer among them, Apollo should also tell them who it is. Oedipus replies that there’s no compelling the gods. But the man suggests that Oedipus consult Tiresias, a blind prophet known to speak directly for Apollo. Oedipus has already thought of that—in fact, Tiresias has been sent for and Oedipus is surprised the old man isn’t here already.

Right on cue, Tiresias arrives. He’s been avoiding this encounter because he knows the horrible truth. Oedipus presses him, getting angrier and angrier, but Tiresias stonewalls until Oedipus accuses him of murdering Laius himself. At last provoked, Tiresias tells him what he knows: “I say you are the murderer you hunt” (180).

Oedipus is enraged at this accusation, and spits insults at Tiresias, scorning his age and blindness: Maybe Tiresias has been conspiring with Creon, or maybe if he’s so smart, he should have solved the riddle of the Sphinx when that monster plagued the city.

The citizen leader who started this conversation breaks in and tries to cool down the tempers of both king and prophet, advising them to focus on the real matter at hand. This doesn’t work: Tiresias replies that Oedipus is blinder than he’ll ever be, and that “No man will ever/be rooted from the earth as brutally as you” (183). Oedipus leaves in disgust before Tiresias can deliver the most ominous part of his prophecy: Oedipus will find he is both son and husband to his mother, both brother and father to his children.

The Chorus sings a terrified song. They’ve seen too much that they don’t understand, and they feel the approach of the future like a flock of dark birds. But they will never side with Oedipus’s accusers until they see some real evidence; even seers need proof.

Pages 188-198 Summary

Creon arrives, infuriated. He’s heard that Oedipus has accused him of conspiracy. While the citizen leader cautions him that Oedipus may merely have spoken in anger, Creon isn’t satisfied. Oedipus emerges from the palace and throws oil on the fire, repeating his allegations of treason. Oedipus interrogates Creon about his past involvement with Tiresias, wondering why Tiresias has made no accusation against Oedipus until now.

Creon replies that he has no interest in kingship—he already has a king’s privilege without a king’s responsibilities, which “[n]o one with any sense of self-control” would want (193). If Oedipus doubts him, he should go to Delphi himself and ask the oracle to repeat the message. The citizen leader jumps in and agrees, warning Oedipus against jumping to conclusions. But Oedipus is too suspicious to listen: He wants Creon dead.

As the two men get into a shouting match, Jocasta arrives and orders her husband and her brother to stop their fighting. When Oedipus repeats his accusations, Jocasta begs him to give up this folly. The Chorus supports her, warning, “Respect [Creon]—he’s been no fool in the past / and now he’s strong with the oath he swears to god” (197). Out of love for Oedipus, a great king who saved their city, the Chorus doesn’t want him to make a terrible mistake. Oedipus relents—for the Chorus’s sake, not Creon’s. 

Pages 160-198 Analysis

One of the most prominent features of the first part of Oedipus Rex is crushing dramatic irony—the tension created when an audience knows crucial elements about the forthcoming plot while the characters remain in the dark. Oedipus was a famous mythological figure, so Sophocles’s original audience would have known exactly what was going to happen to the unfortunate king before the show even started. (It’d be sort of like going to see a play called Little Red Riding Hood today—you’d know the gist even if you didn’t know exactly how the playwright was going to work with the source material.) As such, each new ominous detail—like Oedipus swearing that he’ll bring justice down on Laius’s murderer even if it’s someone in his own family, declaring that he will think of Laius as a father during his investigation, or mocking Tiresias’s blindness—waves at the audience like a little red flag.

As Hilary Mantel once said of writing historical fiction, the question isn’t what’s going to happen to Oedipus, it’s how he’s going to get there. Here, Sophocles focuses on Oedipus’s unwillingness to leave well enough alone—a technique known as exploring the fatal flaw, or the negative character trait that leads inexorably to destruction. Tiresias is only the first of a sequence of people who’ll tell Oedipus to stop asking these questions because he’s not going to like the answer. Oedipus persists regardless. Part of the play’s agony is that Oedipus seems to be a genuinely good and responsible king, concerned with the welfare of his citizens and empathetic to their sufferings. But as he pries into the lockbox of the past, he becomes carried away with suspicion and rage, and by the play’s midpoint he has begun to lose his grip on himself, accusing his brother-in-law of treachery and threatening Tiresias. His emotional frenzy slowly works itself up over the course of the play as he draws nearer and nearer to the horrible truth at the core of his life story.

The play uses a wide stylistic range, from the naturalistic (if intense) back-and-forth between Oedipus and Tiresias to the elevated poetry of the Chorus’s hymns. These registers often interweave, suggesting that everything from the lowly to the sublime is part of the tightly-woven pattern of fate.

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