Comparative analysis of Antigone, Gilgamesh, and Merchant of Venice

Tragic Truth

The Search for Truth in Tragedy

It has been said that life is a tragedy for those who fell, and a comedy for those who think. The truth of this statement is a matter of some debate, but it was never meant to be taken completely literally. That is, though comedy is largely an intellectual matter, tragedy is hardly limited solely to the realm of emotion. Many great tragedies, especially the Greek forerunners of the genre, do work on a largely visceral level, but there is also always a measure of cerebral conflict. This has been true of tragedy since the beginnings of human storytelling, and has continued to be so over the millennia of mankind's many civilizations and artistic movements. Tragedy relies mainly on emotion, but it also requires intellectual justifications, motives, and morals in order to evoke the emotive responses it is (according to some, most notably Aristotle) meant to. This fact is entirely observable in practically any example of a tragic text. It can even be seen in texts that are not considered pure tragedies, but that have tragic elements or heroes in them -- a good tragedy consciously seeks out an intellectual; truth in addition to its ultimate goal of catharsis or the emotional release of the reader.

The easiest way to illustrate this fact is through an examination of several prominent examples of tragedy, especially the characters that find themselves at the center of such stories and texts. Such strains can be traced from the earliest known human civilizations, through the Greeks who became masters of the tragic form, and up to the early master of the modern age, William Shakespeare. An understanding of the heroes that were created by in these time periods and their unique and individual journeys on a search for truth shows the clear connection between these historically and artistically widespread tragic texts. The nature of tragedy is not really found in emotion and feeling, but in the impossibility of establishing objective truth.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature known to man, from one of the most (perhaps the most) ancient civilizations. In the modern English verse retelling by Herbert Mason of this ancient Sumerian epic, the tragic nature of the hero's quest is rendered remarkably clear for modern readers. The story opens with a description of Gilgamesh as a king: "As king, Gilgamesh was a tyrant to his people...[he] left his people dreaming of the past / And longing for a change" (Mason 15-6). The journey of adventure that Gilgamesh embarks on deals with his dissatisfaction with his role as king, and his desire to find a deeper truth about life and death than the power he holds in the purely mortal and physical realm.

This does not occur until he has had many adventures of a physical nature, however; it is not until his friend dies that Gilgamesh begins to despondently reflect in the temporary nature of corporeal life. He realizes that truth is not to be found in having wealth, power, or brute strength. None of these things made Gilgamesh wise, or a good ruler, nor were they able to save his friend from death. Ultimately, Gilgamesh realizes that his strength and even the fact that he is superhuman, as the child of a goddess, will not save him from death, either. In one scene where he is beginning to realize this, he is told that "youth is very / Cruel to an old face...it looks into it lines for wisdom...but there is nothing there to find (Mason 84). Ultimately, Gilgamesh's search for truth ends in tragedy because he realizes that there might not actually be any such thing as truth -- because everything ultimately ends in death, there is no real point to anything.

But though death comes to us all, not all literary works -- not even all tragedies -- view this as rendering life and the physical world meaningless. Another ancient work with many more modern adaptations and interpretations is the tragedy of Antigone, first written by Sophocles. It recounts the travails of Antigone, daughter of Oedipus the former king of Thebes, who disobeys King Creon in burying the body of her slain brother. She knows that she faces death for doing this, but insists that she does not care, saying "For whoso lives, as I, in many woes,

/ How can it be but death shall bring him gain? / And so for me to bear this doom of thine / Has nothing painful" (Arrowsmith, lines 508-12). Antigone does not see meaninglessness in death, but rather is willing to face death for the symbolic gesture of burying her brother. This illustrates her own tragic quest for truth; like Gilgamesh (and Creon), she is frustrated by the rules and order imposed by a mortal government, and feels that it pales in comparison to the divine moral laws such as those regarding the treatment of the dead and the importance of familial relationships and loyalty, which supersedes loyalty to a government.

The final words of the play also illustrate the truth that Antigone and several of the other characters discover: "Great words of boasting bring great punishments; / And so to gray-haired age / Comes wisdom at the last" (Arrowsmith, lines 1536-8). The boasting and other reflections of physical and worldly power, wealth, and glory are ultimately shown to be empty. The fact that it takes suffering to come to this realization is what makes the search for, and the discovery of, truth so inherently tragic. Antigone is, oddly, somewhat more optimistic than the Epic of Gilgamesh in that it does not determine that everything is meaningless, but rather that there are grand universal externalities that provide truth. Antigone, Creon, and others learn, however, that this world is not nearly as meaningful as these other grander principles.