Eso’s Chronicles 153
The Thumbsucker’s War for Human Rights (2)
© Eso A.B.

Air Brush

If one is to take seriously what J.D. Salinger wrote and what Mark Chapman read to the court as the statement why he assassinated John Lennon, re: “…I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids….” (see end of previous blog), and if one is to understand the text literally and has ever seen a real field of rye http://static5.depositphotos.com/1003699/523/i/950/depositphotos_5237387-Country-road-through-rye-fieldcountry-road-through-rye-field.jpg , it makes for either an absurd picture or a scene of vandals on the loose.

A farmer coming to a field of trampled rye would swear that the next time he will come with a shotgun to punish the culprits by spraying buckshot at their legs.

If one wishes to take the sentiments of Mark Chapman as signifying more than a literal interpretation of the text, one has to re-imagine that in place of the ‘rye’ there is a wood, and that the wood stands for the Sphinx in Sophocle’s well known play “King Oedipus”. The thousand ‘little kids’ then become the sacrifices the Thebans bring to the wood to appease their near uncontrollable desire to go hedonistically ‘wild’ after spending a life time of living in a city. The pain and suffering caused by the loss of their children to the Sphinx, keeps the City of Thebes a relatively orderly city inspite of everyone being unhappy.

As some readers may already suspect, Prince Oedipus, who is fleeing the home that he has imagined as that of his parents (in the kingdom of Cithaeron), comes to a wood, better, a sacred grove—the maw of the Sphinx, so to speak—and discovers that children are wandering aimlessly and lost until they die of hunger or cold, or fall down a deep chasm that bisects the grove. The chasm is known as the “Cithaeron chasm”.

At the edge of the chasm stands a temple dedicated to the Sphinx (who stands for the mystery of the wood). When any of the lost children happen to come upon the temple, they are greeted by the priest Tiresias. Tiresias offers each child an apple. After the apple has been eaten, Tiresias gives each child two bird feathers, leads them to a platform at the edge of the chasm, stands them close to the edge of the platform, and asks them to start swinging their arms as if they are the wings of a bird. Tiresias also asks the children to close their eyes and imagine that they are flying. When the children do as Tiresias suggests, he gives each child a push, and the child loses balance and falls into the chasm.

It happens that Prince Oedipus (impersonated by Mark Chapman) comes to the wood and the temple at just the right moment. As Chapman walks up the temple path, he sees Tiresias push a child over the edge of the cliff. He hears the child (all are boy children) scream, then he sees Tiresias walk back to the temple, where he is awaited by Mark’s father—John Lennon, a well known entertainer in the city of Thebes.

Lennon is Marks father from a liaison he had as a teenager with a young woman older than he. The young woman was so taken by the teenager’s voice, that after the concert, she invited the young singer to her bedroom.

When the young woman discovered herself pregnant, her young lover was on a concert tour, and though she wrote him several letters, her letters got lost among the fan mail. Because pregnancy was not something the young woman expected, and because she came from a strict Catholic family, she sold the new born infant to a family of gypsies, who were raising children for the purposes of human sacrifice practiced by another religion in a far away kingdom on the other side of a mountain ridge known as Cithaeron Mountains.

All would have gone well, except the young woman gave her young son a name, Mark. She never forgot the name.

There is a strange word about; it is little known; and it is also not wholly understood. The word is known among linguists and artists as ‘pareidolia’. Pareidolic associations are associations most commonly found in words and images http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareidolia . What is not so well known is that pareidolia may also happen as an event or a series of events.

It happened that the young woman was forced by circumstances to earn her living as a prostitute. This is how she met Charles. Charles happened to be the king of France. Charles fell in love with Joan and wished to marry her. Because he was also a Catholic, Charles had to ask the priests of his court what they thought about the idea. When the priests asked Charles why he had to marry this particular young woman, one with a reputation for being a sinner besides, Charles could not think of a good answer.

What King Charles eventually said was: “Because her name is Joan.”

“So, what in the hell makes Joan so different from other such?” the Council of priests wanted to know.

“You see,” answered King Charles, “Joan comes from Arc. It is said that all Frenchmen are descended from the Johns of Arc. Joan says that she knows we are in a civil war with the Burgundian English, who say that their Johns are better than our French Johns. She claims that when the French Johns hear that the Queen of France is called Joan, they all will get a rise, and I, King Charles, will win the war as a result.”

The Catholic priests had a long discussion among themselves. It was not so long ago that they had suppressed the French Johns and driven them from the wood where most of them had resided. The French priests needed to cut down the wood to fire the bricks they needed to build their cathedrals. On the other hand, it was true that the Burgundies (and English) were getting the upper hand in the civil war, and the French would soon have to ask the Germans to come help. The Germans were known to be materialists and would agree to help. But this would cost the French king many of France’s eastern provinces, and the French would be squeezed between the Germans and the English more than ever. In the end, the Catholic priests agreed that king Charles and Joan of Arc could marry.

After she was married to King Charles, Queen Joan found in the royal mail a letter from the kingdom of Cithaeron, which kingdom was on the other side of the Cithaeron Mountains. The letter offered to sell to King Charles a dozen gypsy children for the sacrificial needs of the court. Joan noticed that one of the children had a name. It was—Mark.

Queen Joan of Arc immediately suspected that Mark was her son by John Lennon, who besides being an entertainer, had invested in the lucrative business of selling children for sacrificial purposes. John was an excellent salesman, because most of his songs were not only entertaining (re: “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqXmBy1_qOQ ), but proselytized for peace. Everyone knew there could not be peace without sacrifice of life.

It is a long story of how it all worked out. There remains the story of how Queen Joan persuaded Mark to leave his home at Cithaeron Beach by telling him he was destined to marry his mother and kill his father. A rewritten version of the antique version is at http://oedipusrexrewritten.blogspot.com . However, if we want to learn about the adventures of Mark, we must—without further ado—explain that just as Tiresias was offered a wagonload of smutty children (all of who had been promised a trip to see ‘a sky filled with diamonds’), one of them shouted: “My name is Mark, and I don’t want to die. There are no diamonds in the sky! Those are only stars!”

At that instant, Mark realized that (for some pareidolic reason) he himself could be that boy. Mark instantly went into an attack mode. He managed to shoot Lennon dead in no time. As for Tiresias, Mark tied him up, and ordered him to order the temple staff to find all the children who were wandering lost in the wood. After the children were on the road and marching to Thebes, Mark took a large branch out of the bonfire and stuck and ground the burning end of the branch into both of Tiresias’ eyes.

The story would have ended there and then (as it would have if Joan had not given her son a name), except that Mark did not understand that even though he became a hero to the Thebans for putting an end to child sacrifices, he could stay a hero only if he replaced the sacrifices of children with the sacrifice of himself.

© Eso Antons Benjamins, a.k.a. Jaņdžs

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR
76 Climbing Mt. Citheron (IX)

There is yet a thirteenth death in “Tiresias’ Revenge”. It is the death of the Sphinx, the chimera of child sacrifice child sacrifice that has been haunting Thebes.

When fleeing Corinth—in order to escape the prediction that he is about to kill his father and marry his mother—and on his way to Thebes, Oedipus meets and kills his father. Sophocles presents the scene as if it is a fated accident. We are told that King Laius and Oedipus meet on the road, but neither of the parties identify themselves, and both try to push each other off the road. The fight over who has the right of way escalates into a deadly fight. In the melee, the captain of Prince Oedipus’ bodyguard kills Laius, the king of Thebes.

After the “victory”, Oedipus continues his journey until he reaches the temple of the Sphinx. The temple is not far from Thebes. The Sphinx, we are told, is plaguing the city of Thebes. The Sphinx will continue to plague Thebes, that is, demand the city to sacrifice its young for its dinner, until someone is brave enough to come before it and answer its ridiculously simple riddle: Who walks in the morning on four, at noon on two, and in the evening on three legs? The answer is “man”, at least this is the answer that everyone in the last two thousand years plus (according to Scaligeri’s chronology) has accepted as being the right answer.

One may accept the given answer as the correct one. On the other hand, we should not forget that the third leg, which is not a nature made instrument, but an instrument made by man, may be presumed to be other than a cane. After a crawl on all fours and learning to stand upright, the hands may hold more than a stick. This is to say that after learning to walk, one may support himself on a spear, a sword, or a rifle. The instrument need not be associated with the physiological nature of man. It may be an instrument that is typical to a cultural ethos.

In any event, Oedipus and his father do not meet each other by accident as Sophocles misleads us to believe. To the contrary, the meeting has been prearranged by Queen Iocaste, the wife of King Laius and mother of Prince Oedipus. The Queen knows that on a certain morning the King is to go and pick up a wagon full of children he has bought from some traders for sacrifice to the Sphinx. The purchase is in lieu of having to sacrifice the children of Thebes.

The Queen arranges an as if accidental meeting by conspiring with her sister, Queen Merope of Corinth. [The history of the two sisters is discussed in greater detail in “Tiresias’ Revenge” (blog 47)]. The captain of the guard which accompanies Prince Oedipus’ flight from Corinth is informed of King Laius’ upcoming transaction, and is to take advantage of the circumstances and kill the king.

In terms of the story, we need to understand that Prince Oedipus’ journey to the temple is not so much the next episode of the play as it is a continuation of action that began at the crossroad where the exchange of the children for payment took place. In short, the death of King Laius is to be identified with the death of the Sphinx. This identification need not be made by anyone else but Queen Iocaste, because it is she who starts the story of Oedipus by refusing to expose him to the elements on Mt. Citheron, which will put him at risk of becoming a sacrifice to the Gods of Fate. Since the Sphinx has wings, we may imagine that he-she could fly from the temple to Mt. Cytheron and snatch the royal child exposed there and deny him life and the right to become part of the royal retinue. Queen Iocaste has a plan that may outwit the Sphinx.

There is no need here to tell the details of the original plot of Sophocles. What we know is sufficient to understand that Sophocles wrote a riddling play from which a number of essential elements of plot have been removed or have been so abstracted as to make the play a riddle. The most likely reason for creating the riddle is political repression. Since the political repression may be for the purpose of ridding society of self-sacrifice by identifying it with the sacrifice of children, the censure and repressive force can only come from a hierarchical society in which self-sacrifice—from the point of view of its elite—is undesirable. Self-sacrifice is an individualistic act in that it is unpredictable (subject to the subjectivity of the individual) and may cast doubt on the authority of those at the top of the pyramid, especially if those at the top have no intention of doing self-sacrifice themselves. Rather than submit their lives to fate, they rather enjoy the “pleasures of life”, albeit a diminished life in that it asks for itself no more than a leisurely drift to Hades via a river called Yana, G(Y)anges, D(Y)on, D(Y)onava, or D(Y)au(n)gava.

As mentioned in earlier blogs, other than sacrifices made during the violent times of Latvia’s founding, Latvia had two distinct opportunities for self-sacrifice in the twentieth century. One was in 1940, when the President Karlis Ulmanis could have (but did not) self-sacrifice himself in the face of the ultimatum to the nation by the Soviet Union, because Latvia had no chance of winning a fight against the aggressor, except make it a symbolic act. The other was in the years immediately after the fall of the Soviet Union, when the post-Soviet Latvian government was on its way to becoming so corrupted that it was obvious (though not necessarily noticed) to most people outside the government, and one Adolfs Bukhis (1993). The latter attempted to redeem the government’s failure by protesting the direction the government by sacrificing his life. His effort was denied recognition by both the post-Soviet Latvian government and its media.

One may object by saying that the troubles of Thebes have little to do with the troubles of Latvia. As the saying goes: yes and no. In this writer’s opinion, we shouldremember that the story of King Oedipus is

1. not as “ancient” as we are led to believe it to be by the Scaligeri chronology (I am inclined to agree with Anatoly Fomenko’s suggestions as to the reliability of orthodox history);
2. fails to confront the interests of a secular and fundamentally laissez faire prince (government) to repress self-sacrifice;
3. substitutes self-sacrifice with a return of child sacrifice, but in place of children, places young immature men and woman, re soldiers;
4. leaves the elite occupy the summit of the power pyramid, where it never makes a sacrifice, but frequently changes chairs of office among its members to escape coming into focus of the public.

The substitution of self-sacrifice and child sacrifice with “war sacrifice” by modern government confirms that our modern orientation of rule is toward maximum, rather than minimum use of violence and terror as the tool of authority for keeping government in power. This keeps the weak bonds of community weak and under the control of the government. Invariably such power is usurped power. How long will it endure? If once the answer was “not for ever”, today it is “not for long”.

Asterisk & Notes of Interest:
On material depravation in Latvia. 
On the theme of “more-equal-than-others” George Orwell's AnimalFarm.  
A recommended read: “The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism” by Emmanuel Goldstein (A book within a book from George Orwell's "1984" )  
Of great interest to me is this and like articles. It presents some of my reasons for supporting the growing of Johns Grass in Latvia.
These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.
Partial entries of my blogs may be found at LatviansOnline + Forum Home + Open Forum –ONLATVIANPOPULISM vs LATVIJASLABEJIE. If you copy this blog for your files, or copy to forward, or otherwise mention its content, please credit the author and http://esoschroniclnes.blogspot.com/  

© Eso Antons Benjamins, a.k.a. Jaņdžs

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR
75 Climbing Mt. Citheron (VIII)

Let us begin the play by pretending that we are its directors.

Imagine that you are going to the theatre tonight. The play you are going to see is some author’s scandalous rewrite of the ancient and famous playwright’s Sophocles play “Oedipus the King”. The reinterpreted and rewritten version is called “Tiresias’ Revenge”. What is Tiresias revenging? Perhaps the “truth”. What is truth? Perhaps what ought to have been done and can be done still.

This is a long play, which is why some readers have compared it to Wagner’s Der Ring des Niebelungen Der Ring Des Niebelungen cycle. No music for this one yet though. There will be a long intermission after the second act, when one may have coffee and cake. In the basement cafeteria of the theatre there will be young aides to help those interested to understand parts of the play that they did not understand. If asked, the aides will also explain what is ahead in the fourth and fifth acts. Tip the aides generously.

Imagine that the curtain of the stage is closed. It is still some minutes before the play is about to begin. The audience is in taking seats. The volunteer selling programs is still sitting in in the lobby. The balcony seats are almost filled.

There is movement from behind the stage curtain, then it parts a little, and to the front of the stage steps one of the actors. The actor is holding in his or her hand a mask to indicate that he or she is part of the production. He-she intones: “Ahem… I have an announcement to make. There are some changes in the scenery tonight. You will see one of the scenes twice. I will briefly tell you about the scene, so you know what occurs if we decide to skip through it quickly. Here it is:

“There is a temple. It stands in the mountains, indeed its rear exit stands right over the edge of a cliff. The temple is on the road from ancient Corinth to ancient Thebes. [Some directors may wish to replace the name of Thebes with that of Riga.] In the centre of the temple on a high and broad pedestal sits the Sphinx. It is a horrible beast and inspires terror the moment one sees it. However, in fact, you see nothing of the Sphinx but its Face. The face, horrible to behold, is drawn or projected on a curtain. Its features show the anxiety of life facing Death. The Sphinx is a former dragon that has devoured itself from the tail up, and the image resembles—I will let you imagine—that of your own face after you have cannibalized yourself from the tail end of yourself. The road of your rage to live has been a bloody and horror filled voyage. Now you cannot devour yourself any further. The Face cannot eat itself, but only express its terror of Death if it takes the next step towards it. Perhaps the Face looks something like the one Picasso drew in one of his last drawings, except in place of man’s tightly drawn lips, there should be teeth as horrible as the teeth of a saw.

“On the road below the temple appears a wagon drawn by four oxen. In the wagon sits a large cage, and the cage contains four to eight children. [This scene may in fact be projected on the screen behind the actor’s back as a video clip.] The driver of the wagon is Tiresias, the priest of the temple. Tiresias has not been blinded yet, but somehow he already has that “blind” look of one who has gone snow blind from having seen too much snow. On top of the cage sits a guard armed with a spear.

“Tiresias stops the wagon before the temple, opens the cage and motions one of the children to follow him. The child is dressed as if he or she has been invited to a children’s birthday party. The child and Tiresias walk toward the temple, then walk up the temple steps right up to the curtain, to the Face of the Sphinx directly in front of them. To the right and left of them in the shadows may be present some other figures. Perhaps these are the witnesses of the proceedings.

“When Tiresias has come before the large temple curtain and the face of the Sphinx, he seizes the child by the scruff of the neck, grabs the belt around his or her waist, and pushes him-her with some force through the curtain. The curtai has a tear or an opening in the middle to facilitate a quick “disappearance” of the victim. Tiresias performs the motions as if he has had lots of practice. The children do no more than cry out in surprise.”

A few moments after each child disappears behind the curtain the audience hears a thud. [Thud! x 4.] Some men may bring onto the stage four sacks of sawdust and let them drop there in a matter of fact manner, one after the other: Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!] If you want to know, yes, the remaining four children are to be saved for a later sacrifice.

“Let the  plague begin!”


Asterisk & Notes of Interest:
On material deprivation in Latvia.
On the theme of “more-equal-than-others” George Orwell's Animal Farm. 
A recommended read: “The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism” by Emmanuel Goldstein (A book within a book from George Orwell's "1984"). An article to orient yourself on populism in America (and hear the echo in Latvia), Retrieving the Democrats’ Reason for Being by Sam Smith.
Of great interest to me is this and like articles. It presents some of my reasons for supporting the growing of Johns Grass in Latvia.
These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.
Partial entries of my blogs may be found at LatviansOnline http://latviansonline.com/forum/ + Forum Home + Open Forum –ONLATVIANPOPULISM vs LATVIJASLABEJIE. If you copy this blog for your files, or copy to forward, or otherwise mention its content, please credit the author and http://esoschroniclnes.blogspot.com/  

© Eso Antons Benjamins, a.k.a. Jaņdžs

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR
74 Climbing Mt. Citheron (VII)

The response that I received over my interpretation of Sophocles’ “King Oedipus” (“Tiresias’ Revenge”) was somewhere between a statement and a question: “How is anyone to perform all those deaths in one [the last] act?.” I was taken aback. I thought that this is what directors of a play do—besides choosing a cast, they also solve problems and think of ways to do what may seem impossible to do. A stage need not have only one platform.

Nevertheless, on second thought, I could only agree that one may get the impression that death arrives as a pile up of speeding cars speeding cars. It all comes after the discovery of the facts or, if you will, the truth. Let me count the deaths.

1. First to die is the blind seer Tiresias;
2. then comes Iocaste, Oedipus’ mother and wife;
3. & 4. their two sons, Polynices and Eteocles;
5. then Antigone, their daughter;
6. Antigone’s lover Haemon, Prince Creon’s son;
7. then Prince Creon’s wife, Eridike, because Creon will not pardon Antigone for burying her brothers. No doubt, Creon also does not forgive his son for not abandoning Antigone.

This makes for a total of seven (7) deaths. However, these seven were preceded by four (4) others:

1. The infant who was substituted for Oedipus, but whose death is not declared.
2. King Laius, killed by his son Oedipus.
3. Polybus, the king of Corinth. He is killed by the Queen of Corinth, Merope, Iocaste’s sister.
4. Oedipus.

Seven plus four is eleven, quite a few deaths indeed. A dramatic denouement, not least because the central act no longer is Oedipus stabbing out his eyes as Sophocles seemingly wants to makes us believe, but the other deaths. All lose their lives as a result of the refusal by Queen Iocaste to expose for a night her son Oedipus on Mt. Cytheron and discover whether he is fated to become the king of Thebes, Greece,  or not. And then there is the “plague” itself, obviously with death lurking at the end of the road.

The reader, who knows the play according to Sophocles, will quickly notice that either Sophocles hid the motive why Oedipus was exposed to the elements, or I have added it. In Sophocles’ version of the play, at least the version that has come down to us, King Laius wishes to kill his newborn son for reasons unknown. In my rewrite or deconstruction of the plot, I propose that Laius does not wish to kill Oedipus for reasons unknown, but to test the will of the Gods. In other words, by exposing Oedipus to the elements on Mt. Citheron, Laius and all Thebes will know if the fates are agreed that he is suited to grow up to be king of Thebes. There are other additions as well, for example, Sophocles nowhere mentions that Queen Merope of Corinth is Ioacaste’s sister.

My acquaintance made no comment on my interpretation of the play or, more accurately, my resolution of the riddle posed by Sophocles. Rather than probe and embarrass myself by having to listen how perhaps my Latvian skills made reading the play difficult, I let the matter rest. Perhaps on another day would come and offer another opportunity. After all, the plague that plagues Thebes may be said to plague Riga and Latvia, and plagues do not simply disappear. King Oedipus may be renamed King John, and imagined as a descendant of the king of Jersika, King Visvaldis. [See blog 58 ff. for a discussion of the kingdom of Jersika and its king.] An interesting coincidence is the fact that the current President of Latvia is a surgeon, and the English name “surgeon” may be read as “sur-john” or Superjohn.

In any event, the several years that separate my probe into the nature of the Protestant mindset in Latvia has done little to change my impression that self-sacrifice as the cause of death is a subject too touchy to touch. It has obvious political implications. The sacrifice by Adolfs Buķis (see blogs 16, 36, 67, 68) of his life in front of the Freedom Monument in Riga and the dismissal of the event as inconsequential by the authorities and the media is ample evidence of the unwillingness of Latvia’s post-Soviet government and society to take itself “that” or so seriously as to involve self-sacrifice. The bureaucracy of the state, with self censorship its second nature—thanks to eight hundred years of self-repression—knows how evade any subject, itself including.

Mostly my disappointment was however the way the echoes of self-sacrifice rebounded on Latvian society itself. It simply had no ear for it. No doubt, the fate of Oedipus and Thebes could be imagined as in some way applicable to not only the current political situation in Latvia, but indeed to the political atmosphere the world over. Whatever the rest of the world may think or make of self-sacrifice, in Latvia it is but a clump of clay stuck to the shovel and what the shovel needs to be freed of. This is taken for evidence that everything is as it should be. Self-sacrifice as a phenomenon necessary for the creation and maintenance of a community, which makes it a political force, has not been able to find room for imagination here.

Now the act which my actor acquaintance was questioning is the last act, the fifth. (See blogs 46-47.) It is true that most of the deaths in the play (eleven +) occur or, better, are declared in this act. The entire network of relationships among those who are part of or somehow connected with King Oedipus’ court unravels here.

For the time being my probe to try discover Latvian reaction to tragedy had proven itself to be unsuccessful. As I came to interpret it, it was simply too risky to risk upsetting a Latvian audience with a play that insists in introducing such radical changes in how we have grown up to see ourselves. Latvians would rather continue to perceive the Sphinx as a mystery rather than a revelation.

However, there is a solution to the difficulty of having to present to the audience death after death after death. One solution is to tell the audience the story first or by giving it a hint of what the play is leading up to. Not all of the eleven and more deaths need to happen in the last act, but can be told in a brief introduction. In this way, the audience is given some tools with which to imagine the events in the play more easily.

Let see how this might work in the next blog.

Asterisk & Notes of Interest:

On material depravation in Latvia.
On the theme of “more-equal-than-others” Orwell's Animal Farm  
A recommended read: “The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism” by Emmanuel Goldstein (A book within a book from George Orwell's "1984".) 
Of great interest to me is this and like articles. It presents some of my reasons for supporting the growing of Johns Grass in Latvia.
These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.
Partial entries of my blogs may be found at LatviansOnline + Forum Home + Open Forum –ONLATVIANPOPULISM vs LATVIJASLABEJIE. If you copy this blog for your files, or copy to forward, or otherwise mention its content, please credit the author and http://esoschroniclnes.blogspot.com/

© Eso Antons Benjamins

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR
44 Tiresias Revenge (IV)

This blog continues a play called “Tiresias Revenge”.

The play has a few blogs to run 4-47). I wrote it many years ago using various sources for the text of King Oedipus, all scholarly books as I remember. Who else would read this stuff. Yech! Nevertheless, I hope you read it. The people of Latvia and their descendants abroad should find it interesting and pertaining to them--perhaps.

Scene Three

(Scene as before. Enter Prince Creon.)

Prince Creon: I don’t believe it!
The king threatens my life.
My lovers are leaving me.
What am I guilty of?
Do you, too, believe that I’m betraying Latvia?

Chorus: Our king is overcome by anger.
Tiresias set it off.
He blamed the king over Latvia’s troubles.
We do not know what to make of it.
The blind man’s words were strange.
King Oedipus has done Latvia much good.
He says it was you, Prince Creon, not he,
who suggested going to Tiresias for consultation.

Prince Creon: The king accuses me and Tiresias,
both, of plotting against him.

Chorus: That is what he believes.

Prince Creon: Is he in his right mind?

Chorus: I do not always understand
the court’s reasoning.
But here comes King Oedipus.
He apparently is in control of himself.

(Enter King Oedipus.)

King Oedipus: Well, well, Creon!
The man who will seduce the Queen of Fate herself.
Do not look so surprised to see me.
Yes, I know you are against me.
Do not say it is not so.
It was you who persuaded me to send you
after that murderer of children,
that empty-socketed soothsayer.
It was you who told him
what was to be in his report.

Prince Creon: You are making this up.

King Oedipus: You are sending Tiresias about Riga
to mutter a falsehood. Worse!
Falsehoods against me!

Prince Creon: King Oedipus, let me speak.

King Oedipus: Do not say you are not guilty.

Prince Creon: I am not guilty.

King Oedipus: You are wrong if you think
you will escape punishment
because you are Queen Iocasta’s brother.

Prince Creon: Punishment will be earned
only if you prove my guilt.

King Oedipus: You are the one who brought Tiresias to Latvia.

Prince Creon: So? Everyone is in awe of him.
What is more, you agreed to it.

King Oedipus: You tricked me into it.
I now regret the day I took pity
and removed from him his eyes only.
For how many years has he now spun
his web of deceits?

Prince Creon: It is twenty years since King Laius died.

King Oedipus: You have counted those years, haven’t you?
It is the same number that you plot.

Prince Creon: What makes you say so?

King Oedipus: It is as clear to me as anything is.
You murdered King Laius.
You did it to gain the throne.
Tiresias was to vouch for you
with more child offerings.
But I thwarted your plans.
The truth is, Creon—the Gods do not
stand by either you or Tiresias.
You are finished.

Prince Creon: I cannot speak for Tiresias.
As for me, I deny your accusations.
You do not know what you are talking about.

King Oedipus: You never made an effort
to look for Yahn’s killer.

Prince Creon: I can say the same about you.
You’re the one who became king, not me.
You’re the one who had no curiosity
about your predecessor.
Why pretend to revive him now?

King Oedipus: Tiresias did not divine
where King Yahn lies buried, did he?

Prince Creon: You can see with his eyes.
You know where you buried him.

King Oedipus: Is that how you answer a king?

Prince Creon: You are the one who says
you heard what Tiresias said.
I was not present when you and he,
and the Sphinx met.

King Oedipus: It was no time for talk.
It was a time to get on with life or die.

Prince Creon: I hope your innocence is proved
with the same certainty
as you are the husband of my sister.
But tell me something.
You rule over Latvia and give
like rights to Queen Iocasta, don’t you?

King Oedipus: All the queen desires, she gets.

Prince Creon: Then tell me,
is she not with me
one of the three legs of the cauldron
on which Thebes stands?
I have like rights to yours even if I—
like the queen—
defer to you and let you rule.
If you die, the queen will rule next.
If you die and the queen dies, I rule.
Why should I wish to kill my sister or you?
Why do you try to tip the altar by exiling me
(which is what I presume you want to do)
and unbalance our Latvia?

King Oedipus: So, you want Queen Iocasta and me dead?

Prince Creon: If you believe that,
you will believe anything.
Why should I wish to rule and live in fear
when life is meant for easy sleeping?
I do like to sleep easy.
You have no understanding of life.
I was not born with the desire to become king—
though if need be I will take on the responsibility.
I do not wish to give up my present way of life
for the sake of the throne. I do not deny
that I wish to live like a king.
But why should I be king
if a king’s privileges are mine without effort?
Because of our existential relationship
I have become rich.
I am grateful for your generosity to me
regarding the building of public monuments.
You get your share, and I am satisfied with mine.
Why should I let this slip from my hands?
If you believe I have worked against you
and can prove it, kill me.
However, do not accuse me of being a traitor

before you have proof of it.
Chorus: King Oedipus, step back.
Peace is paramount.

King Oedipus: When an enemy works against me in secret,
I have no time to waste.
If I wait, I lose.

Prince Creon: Do you want me to leave Latvia then?

King Oedipus: I want your head.

Prince Creon: You are not right in the mind.

King Oedipus: What parent of Latvia agrees with you?

Prince Creon: You are being reckless.
You began the accusations.

King Oedipus: It is I who rule.

Prince Creon: Do you wish the cauldron
to stand on two legs?

King Oedipus: How long must I be patient!?

Prince Creon: You have no right to presume
your decision is final if I contest it.
Queen Iocasta, too, must be consulted.

Chorus: Is this dispute a family matter?
King Oedipus, your accusations are without proof.
Prince Creon, you claim to be a leg of the holy tripod,
but your words pretend to authority greater than the king’s.
Do you know something we do not?
Look! Here comes Queen Iocasta.
May she establish peace.

(Enter Queen Iocasta.)

Queen Iocasta: King Oedipus, Prince Creon, I’m aghast.
Your pettiness should embarrass you both,
especially now when Latvia suffers from uncertain times.
Oedipus, it is time for you to go back into the castle.
Creon, do not air your disagreements before the public.

Prince Creon: I will go, but not before you know that
King Oedipus, your husband, believes
only he has a say in Latvia.
He believes he only has to say his wish
and he has my head.
Did he sleep on the Holy Mountain, Mt. Citheron,
the day after he was born? Damned well, no!

King Oedipus: You do all you can, don’t you, Creon,
to make the plague worse?

Prince Creon: May the Gods curse me!
May I die if your accusation is true.

King Oedipus: Liar! You sent Tiresias
to spread rumors that I am to blame
for Latvia’s troubles.

Queen Iocasta: Is that true, Creon?

Prince Creon: No.

King Oedipus: Don’t believe him.

Prince Creon: I swear.

Queen Iocasta: Oedipus, accept Creon’s oath.
Do it for the sake of Latvia.

Chorus: Be peace loving, King Oedipus.
Prince Creon’s oath is believable.
To kill him will spread into a contagion of plagues.
Spare him.

King Oedipus: Do you know what you are asking?

Chorus: May the Sun forgive me.
May I die without her blessings and without friends
if what I wish for is not for the best.
You yourself, King Oedipus, said
that without our support Creon has no chance.

Queen Iocasta: King Oedipus, we stand witness to
and respect your authority.

King Oedipus: Though you request mercy for him,
Creon himself has not asked for it.

Prince Creon: That’s because your mercy is reluctant.

King Oedipus: What magic protects you?
None, but your sister. So, go your way.

Prince Creon: I’m going, but note:
the citizens of Latvia do not say I am guilty.

(Exit Creon.)

Chorus: Let there be silence for a space.

King Oedipus (suddenly clutching his head):
Shame is me! What a fool!
Why did I give in? I should have
taken the head of Tiresias and Creon, both,
with a nod to the guards.

(The Chorus turns its back to the audience as if to absent itself.)

Queen Iocasta: Oedipus, don’t take this so seriously.
Creon is not destined to be king.

(The Chorus appears to have second thoughts and turns toward the audience again.)

Chorus: King Oedipus, we are with you.
You freed us from the Sphinx.
You brought happiness to children and parents, all.

(The Chorus turns away again.)

Queen Iocasta: What angered you so?

King Oedipus: It was Creon’s lies.
Because of him there are those who now don’t know
whether to support me or him.

Queen Iocasta: What are the lies?

King Oedipus: Creon got Tiresias to say
that I murdered King Laius.
His own tongue, though, remains innocent.
He only delicately hints.

Queen Iocasta: I understand.
Nevertheless, leave the matter be.
I will take care of Tiresias.
Creon will fall in line.

King Oedipus: I am not sure that he will.
I fear he has laid a curse on me.

Queen Iocasta: What? What curse?

King Oedipus: I have not told you the story.

Queen Iocasta: What story?
What have you not told me?
What bullshit are you giving me?

King Oedipus: Well, you know of course that
my parents are the King and Queen of Lithuania.
I have a throne to inherit
in Lithuania someday.

Queen Iocasta: Yes. It is the King and
the Queen of Lithuania
who remember you often with kind gifts.

King Oedipus: So why do I live here, not there?
Listen. This is true. This is what I know.
Fifteen years ago when I came of age
and Lithuania was to make me its citizen,
I was visited by a witch, a fortune teller.
She said she came from Riga to tell my fate.
We sat under an old oak,
its branches heavy with acorns.
She laid upon the grass a linen sheet
and waited for a finch to alight on a branch.
Then she hit that branch with her stick so hard,
the acorns fell from their cups.
She looked at the lay of the seeds and foretold
that I would soon kill my father
and lie in bed with my mother.
I was horrified, but the witch
assured me that all would be well if I left Lithuania,
killed the child-eating Sphinx at Šauliai,
leveled the Sphinx’ temple, blinded its priest,
and took up residence in Riga.

(Enter Eteokles, a son of King Oedipus and Queen Iocasta.)

Eteokles: Father, uncle Creon says
you killed my grandfather.

King Oedipus: The viper speaks!

Queen Iocasta: How did uncle Creon say he knows all this?

Eteokles: He says Tiresias told him.
He says Tiresias is to be believed more than father.
He says he will support Polynices
as king of Latvia. He says that
I will die if I do not leave.

Queen Iocasta: Listen, son, your father is right.
It happens. Uncle Creon, a man who loves tulips,
has been bit by a viper.

(Exit Queen Iocasta, King Oedipus, and Prince Eteokles. The Chorus turns to face the audience, perhaps one of Latvians.)

Chorus: I defer to fate
ruled by laws that mortals have not yet
understood and may never.

Antistrophe: Our king a murderer?
But because of him
thousands of children live today.

Strophe: People twist what they hear
and as the story changes so does truth.

Antistrophe: My thoughts are like the wind,
here, there, everywhere.
What will become of Riga?
Is ruin our future?
Is the sacred cauldron to spill
its sacred content for the dogs?

Chorus: May Gods allow the serpent
of wrath to catch its tail.
Let good prevail.

Scene Four next.

These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you have read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.

If you copy this blog for your own files, or to be forwarded, or its content is otherwise mentioned, please credit the author and http://esoschronicles.blogspot.com/  /

© Eso Antons Benjamins

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR
43 Tiresias Revenge (III)

This blog continues a play called Tiresias Revenge.
It has a few blogs to run Blog 40-47).
I wrote the play many years ago using various sources for the text of King Oedipus, all scholarly books as I remember. Who else would read this stuff. Yech! Nevertheless, I hope you read it.
Scene Two

(Scene as before. Enter King Oedipus.
The ‘people’ he addresses are actually the Chorus of Scene 1.)

King Oedipus: I’m losing my patience.
Dear people, do not listen to rumor.
If you don’t know, don’t guess,
and do not credit the opinions of Riga’s kitchen maids.
I am not responsible for the plague of Thebes.
I was not born among you.
I have no loyalties born of childhood in me
that tear me hither and thither.
As your king, I call on everyone
to come forward and tell me what you know
about the death of King Yahn.
Nothing bad will come to you.
I will even reward you.
Of course, those who hide from me
what they know, when I discover it,
I will deny them the right to live in Thebes.
Worse, any Theban worthy of his name
will spit you in the face.
Curse the murderer.
May his life be pain and suffering,
so much so that he seeks death.
A king’s death cannot remain a mystery.
Since I share my bed with Queen Iocasta,
once King Laius’ wife,
if she and King Laius had had descendants,
we would be as one family.
Indeed, I wish to discover King Laius’ murderer
as if Laius were my own father.

Chorus: IWe do not know who killed King Laius.
May the Sun help discover the guilty one.

King Oedipus: I hope the Sun is listening to you.

Chorus: May we add something
to all that has been said?

King Oedipus: Speak!

Chorus: Tiresias, the man who long ago
accompanied children to the Sphinx’s temple
has eyes that pierce the dark.
You should seek him out.
Discover his thoughts.
King Oedipus: I’ve thought of that.
I’ve already sent Prince Creon
to visit the Sun’s temple,
where Tiresias now dwells.

Chorus: One more thing.

King Oedipus: Yes?

Chorus: Perhaps the killers of King Laius bragged.
Violence brags about its deeds.

Else it cannot be justified.
At the same time, killers threaten violence
if their violence is revealed.
You must offer protection to those who tell the truth.

King Oedipus: Yes, of course.

(Enter Tiresias. He is led by a youth and followed by a guard.)

King Oedipus: Tiresias! Great friend of Latvia!
A finch tells me you’ve made good use of my mercies,
and your nether eyes have discovered
new secrets of the night.
People seek out your touch.
They let you touch their bodies for signs of illness.
You’ve grown fat healing their fears.
Be that as it may, I’m happy to see you.
You no doubt have heard the daughters of the Sun sing
that Thebes will not be free of its troubles
until we discover who killed King Yahn.
Do not hold back from us what you know.
Tell us what’s hid in the crevices
and holes where the snakes and bats live.

Tiresias: Gods, if you only knew
how heavy wisdom lies on a man
if it earns him no profit.
King Oedipus, let me go.

King Oedipus: You speak as one who has no respect
for either Riga or its king.
Are you refusing to tell what you know?

Tiresias: Do you wish to condemn me already?

King Oedipus: If you know something, tell it.

Tiresias: Promise me Riga.
Else I say nothing.

King Oedipus: I don’t believe it!
You know something, but refuse to tell?

Tiresias: Promise me Riga.

King Oedipus: Guards! Pick up this fool by his hair.

Tiresias: You’re forcing me to have pity
for neither myself nor you.

King Oedipus: I, not you, lead Latvia!
Speak! Don’t stand dumb.
I’ll show you your piece of gold.

Tiresias: I’m blind, not deaf and dumb.
Even so, I see better than you.
Let me have your necklace instead.

King Oedipus: Outrageous man!
Do you want Riga to once again
sacrifice her children?

Chorus (screams!): No!

Tiresias: King Oedipus, you swing as a door,
but see neither the past nor future.
But matters discover themselves
even if kings hide them.
I don’t wish to own Thebes.
I seek reward only because your
demand for truth is unduly impatient.
The fate of Thebes will be
decided by the Gods whom you, not I, deny.

King Oedipus: You say truth is on its way?
Why not tell it sooner than later.

Tiresias: I hold my tongue.
King Oedipus: Let me see!
I already took your eyes from you.
I will now tell what I think of you.
I think you are among those
who conspired against Yahn.
As a former servant of the Sphinx
murder comes naturally to you.

Tiresias: Let me remind you, King Oedipus,
of the promise you made to
King Yahn’s murderer. You said he
would be allowed to speak to no one.
You said he would be chased from Riga and worse.
I’ll tell you who deserves such a fate.
You, King Oedipus,
because you’re the misfortune of Latvia.

King Oedipus: By what magic
do you hope to escape punishment?

Tiresias: Truth will save me.

King Oedipus: Who taught you the truth?

Tiresias: You forced me to speak against my will.

King Oedipus: You spoke the truth?

Tiresias: Did you hear what I said?

King Oedipus: Your words are like a squid’s ink.
Alright, I’ll hear you once more
if you bear in mind that should you lie,
I’ll throw you down the same cliff
from which the Sphinx threw the children of Riga.

Chorus: Oh Dearest Goddesses!
Laima, Mahra!

Tiresias: You’re looking for yourself.
It’s you who murdered King Yahn.

Chorus: Oh Dearest Goddesses!

King Oedipus: You’ll not speak like that for long.
Guards!

Tiresias: You live in shame with those you love.
Ask your wife!

King Oedipus: How dare you?!

Tiresias: You provoked me to it.

King Oedipus: Oh, now I understand. Traitor!
You’re doing the work of that fart, Creon.

Tiresias: You are playing into Creon’s hands.

King Oedipus: It’s clear now (oh Gods!)
that Creon is using this blind charlatan
to make himself king.
How very clever, indeed!
Tell me, Tiresias, why,
when the stomach of the Sphinx hungered,
you didn’t save Latvia?
It was I who understood the madness
of child sacrifice, not you,
nor King Laius, nor Prince Creon.
I see now! I see now how you plan
to surrender Riga to Creon.
Neither he nor you will spare Latvia’s children
if child sacrifice is what brings you power.

Chorus: Listen, both!
Your words reach beyond anger.
But we need words that make sense.
Think of us, King Oedipus!

Tiresias: I’m slave to no one, but the truth.
Even if Oedipus kills me,
the truth will come to light.

King Oedipus: The plot against me could not be plainer.

Tiresias: Is that so?
Then listen to what even a shadow sees.
You say your parents live in Kaunas, Lithuania?
It’s not true. You tell everyone
you solved the riddle of the Sphinx.
You say the answer is “three legs—
an old man resting on his cane.”
The answer satisfies but schoolchildren.
The legs are not legs, but three people
holding the cauldron of Latvia’s holy waters.
You, one of the legs, are a clubfoot.
You, not I, tilt the throne in Riga.

King Oedipus: May the people of Thebes
stone you to death.

Tiresias: I wouldn’t have come had you not called.

King Oedipus: I didn’t know I’d be talking to an arse.
(Exit Tiresias, then King Oedipus.)

Antistrophe: King Oedipus, be careful.
Your anger treads on your heels.

Strophe: Your anger is like a snake snatching its tail.

Antistrophe: We think that Tiresias knows the story.
He’s egging it on.
There was a time when the Dearest Goddess was angry.
A lesser spirit—its name now forgotten—
challenged her wisdom.
The universe shook from the Dearest Goddess’ wrath.
The spirit took fright and died.

Strophe: Where then did the Goddess’ wrath go?

Antistrophe: It turned into a dragon, a beast.
Fire, smoke, and sulfur wrapped its skin.
It understood but one word: Revenge!
It seized its tail and devoured itself to its face.
From the forehead of the beast grew two horns,
from tooth to tusk through the brain to the head.
As the horns grew the Dearest Goddess’ wrath
birthed naked twins, but armed with spears.
The twins threw their spears
at each other. The spears hit them and
passed through them to their hearts.
Such is the mercy of our Dearest Goddess.

Scene Three next.

These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you have read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.

If you copy this blog for your own files, or to be forwarded, or its content is otherwise mentioned, please credit the author and http://esoschronicles.blogspot.com/

© Eso Antons Benjamins

NOT-VIOLENT TERROR

40 The Horror (III)

Though stories of horror are not new and have been heightened to the point where the reader can almost feel horror not only in the abstract, but as claustrophobia [Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849) is a classic example of this literary genre], the most ancient and horrific horror story is Sophocles’ famous tragedy “Oedipus Rex” or “King Oedipus”.

Heretofore, Sophocles’ tragedy has gained most of its notoriety for three reasons: 1) as a play that has a ‘perfect plot’; 2) as a story that involves a mother and son marriage; and 3) the ‘riddle of the Sphinx’. This writer would like to add a fourth reason for notoriety of the tragedy: 4) Oedipus’ rise to power causes the death of ten persons of his extended family, beginning with his (unwitting) killing of his father, and ending with the death of Tiresias, the seer. As the latter’s death is not an event that Sophocles wrote into the play, let me explain how I came to perceive that Tiresias died.

One may argue that “horror” as a subject matter in popular literature burst on the literary stage of the 19th century for a reason: it had, more or less,. become part of everyone’s daily experience. Perhaps it was the French Revolution (1789-1799) and the decapitation of the French King (1793) that triggered the Reign of Terror (1793-1794) that made terror a subject of daily discussion for the public.

Whatever the history of horror, when Joseph Conrad wrote his novella “Heart of Darkness” (1902), horror, barely hidden, had become a part of a way of life. “Heart of Darkness” is a story of a cynical romantic, one Kurtz, who goes to Africa as a Company agent to hunt for ivory and is ready to kill to get it. See http://tinyurl.com/yfqdwlc The teller of the story, one Marlow, the captain of a ship sent to return Kurtz from somewhere far up the Congo River, finds Kurtz near death. Kurtz gives Marlow some papers he wants returned to England and a photograph of his Intended (bride) in England. When Kurtz dies, his last words are: “The horror, the horror”. The meaning of these words have been interpreted variously. One interpretation is that the words refer to life itself, as for example when one has a reputation of being a writer, a painter, a musician, a universal genius (Kurtz), yet has little hesitation to kill in order to become wealthy. In short, Kurtz stands for the character of Western civilization. Our civilization is the horror.

Upon his return to England, Marlow meets Kurtz’s Intended to deliver Kurtz’s packet and tells her nothing of Kurtz’s real doings and, as if to top it off, tells the simple minded creature that Kurtz’s last words were her name (whatever that may be). Marlow does all this to save the young woman’s feelings. Thus, Conrad’s story ends on a note of the reader wanting to vomit over the delicacy of falsehood just read and unread.

The story leaves off at a point which leaves the reader feeling that something is missing. One of the obvious things missing is Marlow himself. Though he is the story teller and tells the story while on a yawl named “Nellie” at anchor on the Thames, and though he personally visits the Intended, he acts suspiciously like a nobody, a nobody who has nevertheless a mission to accomplish. What may the mission be? Let us quote some of the last paragraphs of the novella.

“The last word he pronounced was—your name.”

“I heard a light sigh and then my heart stood still, stopped dead short by an exulting and terrible cry, by the cry of inconceivable triumph and of unspeakable pain. ‘I knew it—I was sure!’… She knew. She was sure. I heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. But nothing happened. The heavens do not fall for such a trifle. …

“Marlow ceased and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating Buddha. Nobody moved for a time. ‘We have lost the first of the ebb,’ said the Director suddenly. I raised my head. …” The “I” hear is, of course, the “I” who stands behind the story teller. It is the “I” of the story teller as well as of the reader-listener.

To this reader-listener the novella seems incomplete. Something is missing. It is even obvious. But what may it be?

When I came to think about this, I was reminded of Florence Nightingale, the founder of modern nursing, “the nurse with the lamp” during the terrible Crimean War. Florence went to the war in 1854. http://tinyurl.com/yfon9e2 This is nearly a half a century before Conrad’s own horror, which he is expressing through a faceless man named Marlow. The whole world presumably knew of Florence Nightingale. The story of the nurse giving the wounded soldier her breast may not be assignable to Florence alone, but such stories are more than telling of how some people react to violence and brutality. And here we have the male contrast to Florence—Marlow, “‘It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape… the heavens do not fall for such a trifle’ [as my lies and her pain].” What else could I do, but let her die!

The Director had stood up, but now he sat down again. “There is more to the story is it not?”

Yes, I was just thinking what the Director was thinking. I knew his question too. Marlow did not answer.

“You did tell her that Kurtz also had sent you, so that he could fuck her one last time, did you not?”

Given the teller, the question was obvious. Everyone on deck burst out laughing. This is where we make the step from Kurtz and Marlow to Oedipus and the horror story imbedded in the story of Oedipus. The story, too, has a number of unexpected turns imbedded in it.

(To be continued with the next blog.)


These blogs tend to be a continuum of an idea or thought, which is why—if you are interested in what you have read—you are encouraged to consider reading the previous blog and the blog hereafter.

If you copy this blog for your own files, or to be forwarded, or its content is otherwise mentioned, please credit the author and http://esoschronicles.blogspot.com/