Aristotle was first among critics of Greek tragedy who found this conclusion ungainly. In Poetics, Medea is used as an example of a tragedy with a failed plot resolution: “The denouement of the plot should arise from the plot itself and not be brough about ‘from the machine,’ as it is in the Medea” (1454b1). More recently, G.M.A. Grube echoed the intuition that something about the ending of the play seems off. The divine chariot “is to us an incredible device which we cannot readily accept; it probably seemed awkward even to a Greek audience” (164). In his view, the chariot fulfills the narrative purpose of removing Medea from Jason’s avenging grasp, a point he argues without suggesting a fitting conclusion or just punishment. Grube’s explanation of the chariot escape does not extend beyond its plot necessity. Other critics have attempted to explain Medea’s escape as transcendence. Maurice Cunningham argues that she transforms into a goddess since, “In purely human terms, Medea should not be able to escape Jason’s retaliation” (158). Anne Burnett makes sense of the escape by arguing that Medea's humanity is “sloughed off” (22). By their reasoning, Medea’s escape only makes sense if she transcends the human realm and the judgements to which mortals are subject. For now, I want to set aside the issue of how Medea should have ended, or what Euripides meant audiences to infer by concluding the play as he did. The seeming “offness” of the ending is interesting in itself. Why is it so counterintuitive that Medea should avoid punishment? Unquestionably, it is indefensible to willfully kill one’s own children, but are these actions alone what motivates the audience’s desire for retribution? It is also true that Medea is cast as a “bad” character throughout the play. To what extent is the audience’s desire for her comeuppance fueled by her character (or characterization)? It makes sense to turn to character theory, which has roots in criminal law and is concerned with the relative weight given to action and moral character in deciding appropriate punishment. I do so with the aim of understanding Medea in more nuanced ways but also to ask questions about the role of “character” in sentencing. Using Medea and Greek tragedy more broadly in relation to criminal law is not a novel application. Edith Hall writes that “Greek tragedy has had a close and complicated relationship with criminal law … One reason for the cultural longevity of Euripides' Medea is certainly that it has so often been connected with discussions about criminal legislation … as well as the treatment of women before the law” (18). My use of Medea to reflect on the role of character in criminal law may be new, but my methodology is consistent with a scholarly tradition. Character theorists cite Hume’s writings as foundational to the idea that character serves an important role in determining punishment. In Book 2 of his Treatise of Human Nature, he observes that “[A]ctions are by their very nature temporary and perishing” (pt. 3, Sec II). Not only are they fleeting, but they are not necessarily proof that punishment is warranted. Actions may 30
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