Medea

In Classical tragedy, important events—especially violent ones—often occurred offstage, and then were reported rather than depicted. Seneca does not represent the death of Creusa and Creon; the character of the messenger offers a vague report that “daughter and father together lie mixed with ash” (V.880). Since the audience is already privy to Medea’s plan to subject Creusa to a fiery death, they can infer that Medea’s plan has succeeded. In fact, Medea has achieved more than she was striving for: Creon has died in addition to his daughter and the palace has gone up in flames. However, these events get very little description or time, with the absence of detailed representation mirroring the absence of Medea’s satisfaction. She decides to “look for new punishment” (V.898). This turn of events is expected, since an audience familiar with the Medea story is already well aware that she does not contentedly stop seeking vengeance once Creusa is dead. However, this acceleration of the plot also reveals the corrosive nature of the pursuit of vengeance: Medea mistakenly believed that she might achieve some sort of peace if she could kill Creusa and Creon but, having done so, she only longs for a greater and bloodier revenge.

Her lack of satisfaction prompts Medea to reflect on what else she can do. Seneca portrays the idea of killing her children dawning on Medea slowly. She reflects, “my savage heart has made a plan/ A secret one, stored deep inside” (V.916-917). Medea’s reference to her “savage heart” reveals that she feels psychologically split or divided; while her ultimate plan has been gradually brewing throughout the action of the plot, she has not been fully conscious of it. The repression of her heinous idea belies some of Medea’s earlier characterization and self-identification. She has repeatedly discussed having no limits when it comes to the violence she is willing to commit, but she was not able to consciously admit to herself that she was beginning to think about killing her own children. By displacing agency for this idea onto her “savage heart,” Medea evades taking moral responsibility for concocting this plan.

Medea’s repulsion and hesitation add moral complexity to her character by revealing that she does not immediately embrace the brutal act she has conceived. She initially states, “let that horrible deed, that dreadful crime, be unthought of/Even by me” (V.931-932). However, only a few lines later, Medea concedes to her anger, and even says, “I wish I had/Twice-seven sons” (V.955-956), implying that if she had more children, she would kill all of them, and thus magnify her crimes. While Medea does waver briefly, she readily regains her relentless focus on revenge, and her hesitation perhaps serves to make her capitulation even more striking.

Interestingly, Medea kills her first son in an apparent act of atonement directed towards her deceased brother. She imagines that she can see his spirit, and states, “use this hand, my brother/Which has drawn the sword: we appease your spirit now/With this sacrificial victim” (V.968-970). Medea is apparently less interested in revenge against Jason than in atoning for the murder of her brother by sacrificing her child; this implies that despite her insistence throughout the play that she does not regret her past crimes, she has actually been haunted by them. Once Medea unlocks her subconscious by acknowledging her murderous plan, she is also forced to confront the guilt that she has been repressing. Her first child-murder being couched as a sacrifice (and thus potentially righteous and justifiable) also allows Medea to kill her first child without fully owning the agency of the action.

However, Medea’s intention to punish Jason is fully on display when he pursues her onto the roof of a building, unwittingly creating an ideal vantage point for her to force him to witness the second murder. The rooftop becomes a stage within a stage for a gruesome act which Medea self-consciously scripts and directs for maximum effect. Jason pleads ineffectually with her, first for her to spare the child, and then to at least kill him quickly. Medea chillingly responds, “I am using the time I was given” (V.1017). With this rebuttal, Medea taunts Jason and Creon’s naivety in granting a delay in her exile and allowing her to see her children. Both men’s limited understanding of what a woman could be capable of made them vulnerable and susceptible to Medea’s schemes.

According to myth, Medea had access to a flying chariot pulled by dragons. In the play’s final moments, she makes a dramatic exit. Strikingly, despite the havoc and violence that she has wreaked, Medea leaves Corinth unscathed and arguably triumphant: She has been completely successful in wreaking her vengeance on everyone who hurt her. However, the play’s dramatic ending leaves significant questions unanswered in the context of what has come before. Medea has already lamented that she has nowhere to go. While her pitiful description of herself as a friendless exile contrasts strongly with her forceful and powerful depiction at the end of the play, a very real question lingers about where Medea could find refuge. Moreover, Medea has now lost everything: her triumph may be visceral, but it also seems likely to turn hollow. While Seneca depicts a character being completely consumed by the pleasure of revenge, he leaves it to his audience to ponder whether that pleasure will ultimately prove worthwhile.