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The Oedipus Cycle: Oedipus Rex/Oedipus at Colonus/Antigone

Page 14

by Sophocles


  Philoktetes was performed four years after the defeat of the Greek fleet at Syracuse, and two years after the first oligarchic coup in 411 BCE. Democracy was restored the following year, but the ongoing stasis (i.e., a ‘standing’ apart or against, a state of civil strife) portended the end of the Athenian empire. This was five years before the absolute end, when the walls of Athens were razed and an oligarchic constitution was installed under the dunasteia—the ‘collective tyranny’ or junta—of the Thirty Tyrants in 404–403 BCE. Given the protracted turmoil of the times, it would seem Herakles speaks as much to the Athenian audience as to Philoktetes. Reaching deeper than the factionalism that was surely rife in Athens, Herakles delivers the final word on what is right, what is holy, what Zeus ordains. He tells Philoktetes what is required of him, predicting his cure and his success at Troy. Yet ‘success’ isn’t everything. Just as significantly, Herakles goes on to demonstrate the proper attitude Philoktetes must have in victory: “You will sack Troy and be honored / with the choicest spoils. Bring these / home with you to the Oitan highlands / to please your father, Poias. The other / spoils such as common soldiers get / lay on my funeral pyre: as a tribute / to my bow” (1615–1621). Herakles, the most illustrious of warriors, lines himself up with ordinary soldiers, setting aside his own aristocratic, heroic prerogative. How could Philoktetes do less?

  What then of Neoptolemos, whom we witness coming of age—an ambitious, righteous, initially callow youth mellowed by Philoktetes and growing into a morally conscient, yet no less ambitious, maturity? Herakles has words for him as well. He doesn’t name Neoptolemos—technically, he’s still addressing Philoktetes—but the Greek audience would have known to whom the words referred: “Yet remember, when / you sack Troy show piety toward all things / relating to the gods. To Zeus, nothing / matters more. The sacred doesn’t die / when men do. Whether they live or die, / holiness endures” (1631–36). Some values are sacralized: they transcend the moment, outlasting factions and parties. Yet even as Herakles makes this pronouncement, the audience knows that the youth we’ve watched growing fitfully into a decent, feeling man will become notorious for his savagery at the conquest of Troy—among other atrocities, killing old Priam, whom his own father Achilles had spared, at the altar of Zeus. Is nothing, then, to be sacred? Sophocles’ vision toward the end of his long life, very nearly at the end of the Athenian empire, is not for the faint of heart.

  —JS

  NOTES

  1. A view close to that of Sophocles—because its baseline is not one stratum of a stratified polity, but the whole of the polity, however internally stratified that whole may be—is articulated by Enzo Siciliano in remarks on the poet Pier Paolo Pasolini: “The [young] Pasolini already had clearly in mind the idea that it is lethal in a collectivity to break, cast aside or forget historical continuity to the point of denying it—and history is a synthesis of languages, customs and usages. The ideal of action, in such a poet, was directed, then, toward the defense of that ‘continuity,’ that ‘historicity.’ ” In Aias as well as in Philoktetes, Sophocles assumes a comparably deep commitment to ‘historicity.’

  Given how “fragile and fractious” Athens became, especially from 461 BCE on, though plays “might be matchless in their honesty, with their forensic analysis of the extremes of the human condition, their investigation of human flaws . . . [they were also] where you came to process information, to learn to form an opinion of the world around you, and love your polis. . . . The experience of theater was meant to be one that reaffirmed Athens’ [once] robust sense of dêmos-solidarity” (Hughes, 214–215, 262).

  2. Philoktetes’ refusal of salvation evokes depictions of a miserably risen Lazarus, or Donatello’s rendering of Christ’s Resurrection (in San Lorenzo, Florence). The comparison is not of individuals, certainly, but of their outlooks. The Resurrection is by definition a glorious event, yet Donatello shows the just-risen Christ drastically aged and stooped, clinging to his staff at the edge of his tomb as—melancholy beyond belief—he looks out onto the world: he had to come back to this? Not a rational response to his salvation, yet it does make sense. As does Philoktetes’ tenacious refusal of an offer that, on the face of it, he should not be able to refuse. When Philoktetes does come round he does so spontaneously—not in the name of success, nor of a cure (he reasons nothing out), but responding instinctively to a vision and a ‘call’ of such scale and cultural depth it is irresistible.

  Philoktetes

  Translated by James Scully

  CHARACTERS

  ODYSSEUS

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  CHORUS, sailors under the command of Neoptolemos

  LEADER of the Chorus

  PHILOKTETES

  MERCHANT, agent sent by Odysseus

  Sailors under the command of Odysseus

  HERAKLES

  Cliff on the desolate island of Lemnos. Ocean below. Occasional glowing above Mosychlos, a distant volcano. ODYSSEUS appears, followed by NEOPTOLEMOS and one of his sailors (unseen). Sounds of the sea.

  ODYSSEUS

  This is it!

  Lemnos. A no-man’s-land

  in nowhere but ocean. No one

  comes here, no one lives here.

  Now, Neoptolemos, as you’re truly the son

  of Achilles, the noblest of all the Greeks,

  listen to me.

  It’s here years ago

  I put Philoktetes the Malian, son of Poias,

  ashore . . . under orders from the chiefs 10

  of course . . . what with his foot all

  runny with pus from a flesh-eating sore,

  well, we couldn’t get a moment’s peace!

  couldn’t start the sacrifice, never mind

  the wine offering, what with his

  screaming, hollering, it was a bad sign,

  it never let up! But that’s . . . too much

  to get into. This is no time for talk.

  If he catches me here my scheme

  to take him is wasted. From now on 20

  it’s your job to help me carry this out.

  Look for a rock cave like a tunnel.

  In cold weather, early or late in the day,

  there’s always a sunny spot to sit in.

  In summer a cool breeze blows through

  bringing sleep. Below, to the left,

  there should be a bubbling spring

  to drink from—if it’s not dried up.

  Easy now. Go see. Signal me if he’s

  still there, or should we look elsewhere, 30

  then we’ll know what to do. I’ll tell you,

  you’ll listen. Together we can pull this off.

  NEOPTOLEMOS cranes to look.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Odysseus, sir, what you’re looking for is here.

  That cave? I think I see it.

  ODYSSEUS

  Above you? Below? I can’t see from here.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Above. No footsteps, far as I can hear.

  ODYSSEUS

  Watch out he’s not sleeping in there.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Now I see. Empty, yes, nobody’s there.

  ODYSSEUS

  No sign anyone lives there?

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Yes. A bed of leaves pressed down 40

  like it’s been slept on.

  ODYSSEUS

  Nothing else in there? That’s it?

  NEOPTOLEMOS looks into the cave.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  A wooden cup. Rough, poorly made.

  And some kindling.

  ODYSSEUS

  Those would be his all right.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  And rags drying in the sun. Whew!

  Loaded with pus.

  ODYSSEUS

  That clinches it. He lives here. Can’t be far off.

  How far could he get with a rotting foot? No,

  he’s out scrounging for food, or some herb 50

  to ease the pain. . . . Send your man to watch
out

  so he doesn’t catch me off guard. Of all the Greeks

  I’m the one he really wants to get his hands on.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  (gestures off)

  Say no more. He’s going. Consider it done.

  Sailor (unseen) leaves, as NEOPTOLEMOS stares after him.

  He’ll look out. But you were saying . . . ?

  ODYSSEUS

  As the son of Achilles you must carry out

  your mission. But you can’t just put

  your body into it.

  You may hear something mmm ‘novel.’

  Some plan you haven’t heard yet. Well 60

  you have to go along with it. That’s what

  you’re here for.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  What are your orders?

  ODYSSEUS

  As you’re giving him your story

  reach into his soul. Take it! He asks

  who you are, where you’re from, tell him

  straight out: you’re the son of Achilles.

  Can’t lie about that. Only you’re headed home,

  you’ve left the Greek fleet, you hate them. After

  they’d begged you, prayed you, to leave your home 70

  hey, you were their only hope of taking Troy

  they didn’t think you deserved Achilles’ armor

  or arms! wouldn’t give them to you when you

  claimed them; by rights they were yours! Instead

  they handed them over to Odysseus. Say

  anything you want about me, nothing’s too nasty,

  I couldn’t care less—but if you don’t do this

  the whole Greek army will be demoralized. Just

  get that bow. If you don’t, you’ll never take Troy.

  It’s you who will have to deal with him. 80

  He’ll trust you. Me, never. You didn’t

  come to Troy bound by an oath. You came

  on your own, not forced to—unlike those

  of us who came on that first expedition.

  He sees me, and has that bow, I’m dead,

  and you are too, my comrade in doom.

  No, here’s how we have to approach this:

  as the bow is unbeatable, you have to be

  clever enough to steal it.

  O . . . I know, it’s not like you 90

  my boy, to say or do anything out of line.

  Yet to succeed is such a sweet thing,

  go for it! We can be honest some other time.

  Give yourself to me but one short, shameless

  stretch of day.

  Then, forever after, you’re free to be known

  as the very soul of honor.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Son of Laertes, advice I can’t stand to hear

  I’d hate to act on. It’s not in me

  to scheme and lie. It wasn’t in my father, 100

  either. Everyone says so. I’d sooner

  take him head on, not sneak around. He’s got

  one good foot! Can’t get the best of us on that.

  Of course I’m here to help you, do as you say.

  I’d hate to be called a traitor. Yet I’d rather do

  what’s right, and fail, than succeed by deceit.

  ODYSSEUS

  You are your father’s son. Brave man.

  At your age, just like you, my hand

  was quicker than my tongue.

  But now I’ve learned it’s words 110

  that move people, not deeds.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Then you’re ordering me to lie?

  ODYSSEUS

  I’m telling you: disarm Philoktetes.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  By being ‘disarming’? Why not

  persuade him straight out?

  ODYSSEUS

  He won’t listen. And then force won’t work.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  What is it makes him so sure of himself?

  ODYSSEUS

  Arrows definite as the death they deliver.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  No one dares approach him then!

  ODYSSEUS

  No. Unless . . . you insinuate yourself. 120

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  You don’t think it’s shameful? To tell lies?

  ODYSSEUS

  Not if lying gets us through this

  dragged-out war.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Won’t the look on my face give me away?

  ODYSSEUS

  Look to what’s in it for you! Can’t be shy about it.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  What good’s it do me if he comes to Troy?

  ODYSSEUS

  Troy is taken . . . only with his arrows.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  I’m not going to take Troy? Like you said?

  ODYSSEUS

  Not you without them. Nor them without you.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Well, if that’s how it is, we’ll have to go get them. 130

  ODYSSEUS

  You do that, you’re coming away with two prizes.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Two? Tell me, and I won’t hesitate.

  ODYSSEUS

  You’ll be called both shrewd and brave.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Then no matter what, I’ll do it. No shame.

  ODYSSEUS

  Remember what I told you then? Understood?

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  (irritated)

  Yes! I’ll do it. Now that I’ve said I would.

  ODYSSEUS

  Wait here. He’ll show up. I’m leaving

  so he doesn’t see me here, with you.

  I’ll take the lookout back to your ship.

  If you’re running late I’ll send him back 140

  dressed like the skipper of a merchant ship.

  The disguise will help. He’ll spin a yarn,

  you pay attention! he’s feeding you leads,

  go along with him. I’m going to the ship

  now. But you know what you have to do.

  May Hermes, who knows the way, lead us

  on, and Victory, along with Athena

  Defender of Athens

  who always watches over me!

  ODYSSEUS slips away. CHORUS of Neoptolemos’s sailors (mostly older than he) approach from the shore below. They cannot see the cave.

  CHORUS

  (severally)

  Sir: 150

  what should we say, what

  not say?

  we’re strangers in a strange land,

  this hermit will be suspicious!

  Instruct us.

  The cleverest

  of the clever,

  the wisest advice, comes from

  the one Zeus gave his godly scepter to.

  You, still in youth, 160

  have had this passed down to you.

  So tell us, how can we serve you?

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  For now, you might look at the sea-cliff cave

  he holes up in.

  Don’t worry, it’s OK. But when this

  dread figure works his way back

  be ready.

  If I signal you, come running. Help

  as best you can.

  LEADER

  We’ve been watching out for you 170

  a long time now, sir. But at least

  tell how he shelters himself. Where?

  We need to know he can’t sneak up on us.

  Where does his foot touch the ground

  now? In there

  or out here somewhere?

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Well, you see where he lives up here.

  Two openings. Rock . . .

  LEADER

  But the cursèd creature! Where is he?

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  I’m sure he’s dragging his agony around 180

  hereabouts, looking for food. Word is

  that’s how he lives: looking for game

  to kill

  with his wingèd arrows.
r />   Rotten miserable as he is,

  no one comes to him with a cure.

  CHORUS

  (severally)

  I feel sorry for him: a man

  no one cares for

  with the face of a man

  no one lives with, 190

  alone always in pain.

  Each time he feels a new need

  bewildering him, his mind wanders.

  How does he go on?

  Dark are the doings of the gods. Unlucky

  the strains of men

  whose resources fall short of their doom.

  This man’s as wellborn

  as anyone. Yet here

  stripped of all life gives, 200

  even human company,

  he lies alone

  among dappled or shaggy beasts—

  pitiful, tormented, hungering,

  his pain incurable

  the while the garbling Echo looms

  from afar

  crying back at him his own crying.

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  There’s no mystery in it. From the beginning

  the gods, I believe, were in on this, 210

  working through the vicious Chryse-.

  All his suffering all alone

  comes from a god—

  to keep him from bending his almighty bow

  against Troy—

  until the time comes

  when the city must fall.

  LEADER

  Shsh!

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  What now?

  CHORUS

  (severally)

  A sound came up! 220

  Like what a man would make

  excruciated by pain!

  Over there!

  Or there! Listen,

  listen! Such pain

  dragging this way!

  The voice of a man, sure now, sounding

  the anguish of his way.

  LEADER

  Time now sir . . .

  NEOPTOLEMOS

  Why, what . . . ? 230

  LEADER

  Change of plans!

  He’s almost here!

  That’s no shepherd piping his way

  home from pasture, no

 

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