At the center of Iphigeneia at Aulis is the impending Trojan War—a bloody conflict in which Greece will sail on Troy to steal back Helen (the wife of Menelaos, king of Sparta), who has absconded across the sea with a handsome young Trojan prince named Paris. The war itself is one fought on the basis of pride: the Greeks see it as their moral duty to restore glory to their humiliated king Menelaos, and the only way they can get across the sea is by sacrificing Menelaos’s brother Agamemnon’s daughter Iphigeneia. Throughout the play, Euripides engages the idea of war and human sacrifice as two activities in which bloody terror and resounding loss are the only routes to pride and glory. Ultimately, Euripides exposes the folly of both war and sacrifice, suggesting that a vicious and never-ending cycle of violence will never produce the desired ends of true glory and grandeur.
Iphigeneia at Aulis is near-revolutionary in its anti-war stance. Throughout the play, Euripides demonstrates how wars fought due to wounded pride or in pursuit of far-off glory are not just foolish but cruel—and how they often lead to a damaging, distracting vortex of chaos which, ironically, makes the attainment of pride and glory all the more unlikely. One of the major ways in which Euripides broadcasts his contempt for wars fought in pursuit of pride and glory is through Achilles. A famous figure of Greek myth known for his skill as a warrior, Achilles—a descendant of Zeus destined to soon to be a hero of the Trojan War—laments that a “frenzy has seized Greece for this war” early on in the play. He knows that the gods themselves have condoned the war and they have urged Greece to retaliate against the Trojans—but Achilles seems to believe that the war itself is a “waste,” fought to restore the pride of one man: Menelaos. In popular imagination, Achilles is often associated with pride and hubris—he is a man made invincible by the gods but he is cursed with one weak spot on the back of his heel. Achilles’s presence in myth or popular culture therefore often signals ignorance and the prideful pursuit of glory. In Iphigeneia at Aulis, however, Achilles is a morally astute, level-headed young man who tries to teach others to “curb [their] grief in adversity,” to live by “reason” instead of anger, and to not let “pride […] draw [them] on.” Euripides cannily uses the figure of Achilles to demonstrate that warmongering in the name of pride and glory does not befit any real soldier—Achilles, the greatest hero of the Trojan War, is depicted as someone who goes into battle somewhat begrudgingly and never without weighing the costs of what a war really means. Achilles’s speeches and actions throughout the play are all in this vein, and as such, they and warn against the foolish pursuit of victory in war as a means of one’s personal glorification.
Euripides also shows how sacrifice is, unfortunately, regarded among the Greeks as a casualty of war—a necessary evil meant to bolster the greater good. Prophet Kalchas declares that Agamemnon must sacrifice Iphigeneia to the goddess Artemis in order to move the winds which will enable the Greeks to sail to Troy. Agamemnon’s resultant internal conflict—and Iphigeneia’s martyrlike wish to glorify Greece by giving up her own life—mirror Euripides’s indictment of sacrifice as a means of attaining glory. “We’ll buy back our own harm / with what is most dear to us,” Agamemnon’s wife, Clytemnestra, warns her husband when she learns of his plan to sacrifice their eldest daughter Iphigeneia to the goddess Artemis. She implores her husband to understand that killing Iphigeneia in order to enable the fighting of a war based on restoring Menelaos’s wounded pride will harm their family irrevocably—they will “buy” no glory with Iphigeneia’s life, only pain. Clytemnestra is one of the few characters to see sacrifice as a crime that should be avoided rather than a necessary evil that is a part of life. She sees no glory in the act of sacrifice or in the role of being the mother to a sacrificial figure—she knows there is only “harm” in selling off what is “most dear” in hopes of appeasing the gods or the prophets. Euripides also uses Iphigeneia’s own eventual resignation to her role as a sacrifice to indict the idea of sacrifice as a means to pride and glory. “I have made up my mind to die. I want to come to it / with glory,” says Iphigeneia as she declares that she will no longer struggle to be spared from the sacrificial altar. Instead, she’ll willingly give her life so that the people of Greece can defeat the Trojan army and restore pride to their nation. Up to this point, Iphigeneia has begged ferociously for her father to change his mind and spare her life—but now, she essentially gives up and resigns herself to being sacrificed for the greater good. Her words reflect the same thoughtless striving toward an invisible, ineffable “glory” which is embodied by the very soldiers calling for Iphigeneia’s blood so that they might sail on Troy to bring pride back to their country’s name.
Euripides uses the mechanism of tragedy to show how often vain attempts to secure pride and glory through bloody, cruel means such as war and sacrifice end instead in pain and chaos. Euripides deconstructs the cultural and religious myths of ancient Greece in order to provide a commentary on the cruelty of a society which seeks above all to bestow glory upon its own name—at any cost, no matter how terrible.
War, Sacrifice, Pride, and Glory ThemeTracker
War, Sacrifice, Pride, and Glory Quotes in Iphigenia at Aulis
AGAMEMNON: I envy you, old man. I envy any man
whose life passes quietly, unnoticed by fame.
I do not envy those in authority.
OLD MAN: But it is they who have the good of life.
AGAMEMNON: You call that good? It’s a trap. Great honors
taste sweet
but they come bringing pain.
Something goes wrong
between a man and the gods
and his whole life is overturned.
AGAMEMNON: because Menelaos is my brother, they chose
me to be their general.
I wish they had saved the honor for someone else.
And when the whole army had mustered
here at Aulis,
the wind died. Calm. We still cannot sail.
There is only one hope of our going,
according to Kalchas,
the prophet. Iphigeneia, my daughter,
must be sacrificed to Artemis,
the deity of this place.
Then the wind will take us to Troy,
and the city will fall to us.
CHORUS: I have crossed the narrows
of Euripos, I came sailing and I beached
at Aulis, on the sands. I left
Chalkis, my city, where the spring
of Arethousa wells up and runs flashing
down to the sea. I came
to see for myself this army of the [Greeks,]
the oar-winged ships of the heroes,
the thousand galleys
which blond Menelaos and Agamemnon of the same
great lineage sent,
as our husbands tell us,
to fetch Helen again:
Helen.
MENELAOS: At this point you'd never murder your daughter.
Well. This same sky
watched you speak otherwise. It's true
men find this happening to them
all the time. They sweat and clamber
for power until it's theirs,
then all at once they
fall back and amount to nothing again.
AGAMEMNON: Even if I
could escape to Argos, they would follow me there.
They'd tear the city to the ground,
even the great walls that the Cyclopes built.
You see why I'm in despair. Almighty gods, how helpless
you have made me now!
There is nothing I can do.
ACHILLES: It is not the same for all of us
having to wait here
by the straits. Some of us,
who have no wives, sit here by the shore, having left
empty houses at home. Others, who are married,
still have no children.
Such is the frenzy that has seized Greece
for this war,
not without the consent of the gods.
CLYTEMNESTRA: Son of a goddess, I, a mortal,
am not ashamed to clasp your knees. What good
would pride do me now? What matters more to me
than my daughter's life?
ACHILLES: Pride rises up in me
and draws me on. But I have learned
to curb my grief in adversity, and my joy
in triumph.
Mortals who have learned this
can hope to live by reason.
ACHILLES: I will be watching, in the right place.
You will not have to be stared at
hunting through the troops to find me. Do nothing
that would disgrace your fathers.
Tyndareos should not suffer shame.
He was a great man in Greece.
CHORUS: But you, Iphigeneia, on your
lovely hair the Argives will set
a wreath, as on the brows
of a spotted heifer, led down
from caves in the mountains
to the sacrifice,
and the knife will open the throat
and let the blood of a girl.
And you were not
brought up to the sound of the shepherd's pipe
and the cries of the herdsmen,
but nurtured by your mother
to be a bride for one of great Inachos’ sons.
Oh where is the noble face
of modesty, or the strength of virtue, now
that blasphemy is in power
and men have put justice
behind them, and there is no law but lawlessness,
and none join in fear of the gods?
IPHIGENEIA: And now you want to kill me. Oh, in the name
of Pelops, of your father
Atreus, of my mother, suffering here
again as at my birth, do not let it happen.
AGAMEMNON: It is Greece that compels me
to sacrifice you, whatever I wish.
We are in stronger hands than our own.
Greece must be free
if you and I can make her so. Being Greeks,
we must not be subject to barbarians,
we must not let them carry off our wives.
IPHIGENEIA: It is hard to hold out against the inevitable. […]
Now mother, listen to the conclusion
that I have reached. I have made up my mind to die.
I want to come to it
with glory. […]
You brought me into the world for the sake
of everyone in my country.
IPHIGENEIA: If it means that one man can see the sunlight
what are the lives of thousands of women
in the balance? And if Artemis
demands the offering of my body,
I am a mortal: who am I
to oppose the goddess? It is not to be
considered. I give my life to Greece.
MESSENGER: And the miracle happened. Everyone
distinctly heard the sound of the knife
striking, but no one could see
the girl. She had vanished.
The priest cried out, and the whole army
echoed him, seeing
what some god had sent, a thing
nobody could have prophesied. There it was,
we could see it, but we could scarcely
believe it: a deer
lay there gasping, a large
beautiful animal, and its blood ran
streaming over the altar of the goddess.