“Wisdom is by far the greatest part of joy
and reverence towards the gods must be safeguarded.
The mighty words of the proud are paid in full,
with mighty blows of fate, and at long last
those blows will teach us wisdom.”
Wisdom: (noun) defined as “having gained knowledge, experience, and intuitive understanding, along with a capacity to apply these well. It is the judicious application of knowledge.” Its definition and its application vary from individual to individual, along with the way in which each person receives said piece of wisdom. In Antigone, the chorus does not adequately cover the scenarios from which wisdom can be garnered. It simply implies that wisdom can only become known to a person after he or she reaps the consequences of a bad decision, so that they are better able to “judicious[ly] appl[y] knowledge” to their everyday lives. But what about the kind of wisdom absorbed through the passing on of information, from generation to generation? Wisdom gained early on in life from parents or peers is often information that has, too, either been passed down or gleaned from a memorable experience.
Humility is not an emotion that can be intrinsically known. It is an sentiment that is carefully taught, cultivated, and reinforced throughout a person’s lifetime by the people surrounding him or her, as well as the experiences that help shape him or her. Both humility and wisdom, though occasionally occurring too late to save a person from a terrible fate, are not specifically always left until the end of a person’s life to be discovered, as if by magic. By reading Antigone, for example, the lessons learned by Creon are passed on to the reader. Knowing how “pride cometh before the fall” in the case of this archetypal Greek tragedy only reinforces the reader’s own sense of humility as well as his or her stores of wisdom, but without their directly experiencing the loss of a son, wife, almost daughter-in-law, and the respect of one’s peers, but rather through watching or reading about such an occurrence.
The fact that pride leads to suffering and pain is an overwhelmingly vague statement. Pride is a necessary part of life; pride in one’s work, in one’s character, in the way one person treats another. However, while toeing the very thin line between having an appropriate amount of pride in one’s daily life and being an egotistical jerk who boasts about everything they do in great detail, it is very easy to fall into the side of hubris. Overweening pride is infamous in most stories, and especially Greek tragedies, as the cause for the eventual downfall of a person, whether it be the protagonist of a story, or the antagonist. Creon’s arrogant manner won him no friends, only enemies, and it kept him from witnessing the scene around him with completely open, impartial eyes. He was so quick to judge Antigone’s actions, and so firm in his belief that he was right, that anyone who stood up against him was quickly torn down and/or threatened by the proud tyrant standing before them. By the time he realized that he was, in fact, wrong, about the way he went about treating Antigone, “[t]he mighty words of the proud [were] paid in full.” Creon lost everything that he held near to his heart: his family, the love of his peers, and the respect of his country. (526)
Friday, September 12, 2008
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1 comment:
Steph--you make a good point. If wisdom can only be learned through mistakes and sad experiences, then what is the point of literature? According to Aristotle, there is a vicarious emotional experience (catharsis) which is at the heart of drama, through which the audience benefits from the sufferings of the characters. So presumably we can gain ourselves from the serious discussion of the nature of wisdom in a work of drama.
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