The Cyclops - Euripides

A satyr-play, not divorced from tragedy, but in a considerably lighter tone, The Cyclops is perhaps the closest thing to a comedy we have from Euripides. The playwright elaborates a story well known to contemporary Greeks from the ninth book of the Odyssey.  While not straying too far from the story-line, Euripides adds the somewhat reprehensible character of Silenus.   

The Trojan War has finally ended, and on their way home, Odysseus and his men stop in Sicily to scavenge for food. Unfortunately they have stopped before the great cave of the Cyclops, at the foot of Mt. Aetna, where the Cyclops has in his service a poor captive, who plays the jester and comedic relief, Silenus. The play opens with Silenus bemoaning his woesome life:

"Polyphemus they call him whom we serve; and instead of Bacchic revelry we are herding a godless Cyclops's flocks; and so it is my children, striplings as the are, tend the young thereof on the edge of the downs; while my appointed task is to stay here and fill the troughs and sweep out the cave, or wait upon the ungodly Cyclops at his impious feast."

As Odysseus and his men find Silenus at the mouth of the cave, bedraggled and estranged, they beg him for food and water. Silenus, not used to visitors, begins sparring with his guests. When Odysseus tells him his name, Silenus replies: "I know him for a prating knave, one of Sisyphus' shrewd offspring." Odysseus, in good humor or pacified by hunger, ignores this slur. When Odysseus says they have unintentionally sailed here "From Illium and the toils of Troy," Silenus asks him how he could get lost on his way home. Looking about themselves, they ask what there is to eat. Silenus, tells them there is little besides sheep. That doesn't sound too bad to the weary voyagers. They ask if the residents of this cave are hospitable to strangers. Silenus, always the provocateur, replies "Strangers, they say, supply the daintiest meat." 

Odysseus, again ignoring this rather poor etiquette from a host, says his ship ran into some tempestuous wind, and they have arrived ashore with little besides a great deal of wine, which he would like to barter for food, they will take their chances with the cannibalistic Cyclops. 

Silenus, as it turns out, has quite the predilection for alcohol. As he hastily agrees to their every demand, bringing out cheeses and lambs he proclaims:

"I will do so, with small thought of any master. For let me have a single cup of that and I would turn madman, giving in exchange for it the flocks of every Cyclops and then throwing myself into the sea from the Leucadian rock, once I have been well drunk and smoothed out my wrinkled brow. For if a man rejoice not in his drinking, he is mad;  for in drinking it's possible for this to stand up straight, and then to fondle breasts, and to caress well tended locks, and there is dancing withal, and oblivion of woe. Shall I not then purchase such a rare drink, bidding the senseless Cyclops and his central eye go hang?"

As Odysseus and his men enjoy their feast, their happiness is short lived, for along comes the Cyclops, wondering who has been eating his food, but more to the point, who these tasty strangers might be. Somehow, in a feat of strength, surprising for someone disabled with such a narrow field of vision, the Cyclops manages to drive Odysseus and his men into the cave and to their certain death. 

Thankfully, the blood and gore happens off stage, but we are told that the Cyclops has begun to roast some of Odysseus' men over an open fire, choosing a pair "on whom the flesh was fattest and in best condition," all the while being egged on by Silenus, who has quickly changed his tune from the vigorous speech previously given; in fact he suggests the Cyclops eat out the tongue of Odysseus and thereby glean the gift of clever speech, after of course he eats the rest of him, being sure not to spare a morsel. 

As cruel as Silenus seems, he's really just an alcoholic, and will stop at nothing to get a drink.

Odysseus concocts a plan to get the Cyclops drunk and then blind him with a molten iron rod. As Odysseus convinces the Cyclops not to share his bountiful wine supply, they catch Silenus taking little sips. 

Cyclops (to Odysseus): I will feast of thee last, after all thy comrades.
Odysseus: Fair indeed the honor thou bestowest on thy guest, sir Cyclops!
Cyclops (turning suddenly to Silenus): Ho! Sirrah! What art thou about? taking a stealthy pull at the wine?
Silenus: No, but it kissed me for my good looks.
Cyclops: Thou shalt smart, if thou kiss the wine when it kisses not thee.
Silenus: Oh! but it did, for it says it is in love with my handsome face. 

This excuse seems plausible enough, and the Cyclops goes back to getting totally sloshed. Silenus does not technically get away with his turncoat / alcoholism without a bit of a penalty, and while the drunk Cyclops looks around for an amorous playmate, he decides Silenus will have to do for the time being, and Silenus is dragged into the cave a Ganymede to the Cyclops' Zeus.

The moment has come for a valiant warrior to now volunteer to sneak into the cave and brand the Cyclops. The men quickly back away from the honor, one has just recently developed a lameness, another seems to have dust or ashes in his eye, another openly admits he is a coward; so Odysseus, being the truly brave and fearless warrior that he is sneaks into the cave and burns the Cyclops with the blazing bar, rendering him sightless and non-threateningly disabled.   

Badenheim 1939 - Appelfeld

Badenheim 1939 takes place during the intermission between the quiet reality of prewar Vienna and the unimaginable horror about to be unleashed by WWII. The story unfolds throughout a series of character studies and vignettes, each moment a pause filled with anticipation and the anxiety that comes with endless waiting.

It is spring in Badenheim, a quiet little summer resort community. As the town hurries and bustles about readying itself for a new season, there is the low ominous rumblings that all is not right. The only ones able to pick up the slight seismic shifts of a new impending world order and identify the poisoned and diseased world for what it is, are the chronically ill. Trude and Martin, together run the town's pharmacy, but since Trude developed a nervous disorder, all she can do is stand by the window uttering vague and cryptic prophecies of the days to come, as her illness seeps into Martin's soul drop by drop.

Slowly, one by one, guests arrive, bringing with them the "moist breath of the big city and the smell of excitement and anxiety." This year, the highly anticipated summer festival is destined to amaze, and as the organizers organize, and the porters unload luggage and musical instruments; the musicians stand by the gate "like tame birds on a stick" waiting for orders and a season of frenzied practice and preparation.  

As more participants make their way to Badenheim, a strange quiet monster in the guise of the Sanitation Department, begins setting up a camp of its own. It is a quiet, initially unobtrusive behemoth, with rules, obligations and creeping demands. First, all those of Jewish origins must register with the sanitation department, although the Jewish inhabitants seem beleaguered  by yet another census, they are not distrustful.

"A strange night descended on Badenheim. The cafes were deserted and the people walked the streets silently. There was something unthinking about their movements, as if they were being led. It was as if some alien spirit had descended on the town."

After everyone has complied with the obligatory registration, one by one the town amenities begin to become more and more restricted. The water is turned off and the city pool is eventually emptied. The post office no longer delivers mail. A sentry is posted at the entrance to the town, and while people still wander in, no one is allowed out. Food becomes scarce and the people quietly wait for their fate.

They are told that they must all go to Poland. Those from Polish descent are overjoyed and quickly begin to create an esparanto of sorts from the smattering of Polish words they remember from their youth. The others, nervous about assimilating into a new country are regaled with the national pride and glorious past from its lost citizens.  All pack. And in a moment all are ready and waiting for the journey to begin. But as the civic noose gets tighter and tighter, they are left in limbo, to wait and worry.

Slowly the endless waiting and monotony begins to gnaw at the souls of the citizens. Some go insane; others, that seemed steeped in insanity become lucid. There is fighting and bickering. Although they share a common ancestry, they are a palimpsest of diversity. Yet all, despite wealth or birthright they have one thing in common, and that is the shared belief in humanity and a naive hope that all will turn out well.  One red flag after another is forcibly overlooked and explained away until they are led by guards to an empty train station to await their fate. As the train pulls up with its cattle cars Dr. Pappenheim remarks:

"If the coaches are so dirty it must mean that we have not far to go."

Philoctetes - Sophocles

Philoctetes centers around two interrelated themes; first, to what extent does an individual owe his society? Despite being jaded, neglected or abused is the individual responsible for the life and happiness of his fellow citizens? Second, to what extent do the ends justify the means? Does the harm of one outweigh the benefit of saving many?

During the height of the Trojan War, while guiding his fellow chieftains to a particular altar along their way to Troy, Philoctetes is bitten by a snake which leaves him crippled and repugnant to those around him who must continually be subjected to his festering and noxious wound. While the chieftains attempt to prepare their sacrifices and pay homage to the gods, none can concentrate with the perpetual cries of anguish coming from Philoctetes, a soundtrack that does not create an atmosphere of confidence and victory.

At last, Odysseus can no longer handle the constant barrage of screams, and the never ending foul smell and he maroons Philoctetes on the deserted island of Lemnos, where Philoctetes is left to live in a cave for ten years, with only the bow of Heracles as a companion. His lot is truly dire, and as he sits in his little cave, his snake bitten heal isn't the only thing that festers; his heart has become a cesspool of hate which he nourishes with a monologue of  bitterness.

And then the Greeks receive an oracle that the only way Troy can be taken is with the help of Philoctetes and his bow, so Odysseus (who Philoctetes hates more than anyone else) and Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles are sent to fetch the castaway. This is problematic, because as mentioned above, Philoctetes hates Odysseus...so how than can they convince him to let bygones be bygones and come along to save a country that has abandoned him? Odysseus believes the only way to convince Philoctetes to either come along or give up his weapons is to be cunning with a touch of guile and he debates with Neoptolemus who would rather be upfront and let the art of persuasion work its magic. Neoptolemus, the son of a hero, who has grown up listening to tales of his fathers chivalry, must now, as his first assignment, cheat a helpless cripple. And as he embarks on his mission, he is nervous and conscious stricken.  

As Neoptolemus slowly makes his way along the beachy shore of Lemnos, he ruminates over his recent debate with Odysseus.

Neoptolemus: When counsels pain my ear, son of Laertes, then I abhor to aid them with my hand. It is not in my nature to compass anything by evil arts, nor was it, as men say, in my sire's. But I am ready to take a man by force, not by fraud; having the use of one foot only he cannot prevail in fight against us who are so many. And yet, having been sent to act with you, I am loth to be called traitor. But my wish, O King, is to do right and miss my aim rather than succeed by evil ways.
Odysseus: Son of brave sire, time was when I too, in my youth, had a slow tongue and a ready hand; but now, when I come forth to the proof, I see that words, not deeds, are ever the masters among men.
Neoptolemus: What then is your command? What but that I should lie?
Odysseus: I say that you are to take Philoctetes by guile.

So Neoptolemus crafts a story of betrayal and as he finds the crippled Philoctetes he begins his narrative. He too has been deceived by Odysseus and he has fled the Greeks. Philoctetes does not need much encouragement, after being alone for ten years anyone speaking Greek within a proximity of five miles is destined to be his new BFF. After listening to his new friend's tale of betrayal and woe, Philoctetes says it is a story remarkably similar to his own, mentioning "well I know that (Odysseus) would lend his tongue to any base pretext, to any villainy, if thereby he could hope to compass some dishonest end." This last barb hits a little too close to home...isn't this exactly what Neoptolemus is in the process of doing? And in a moment, after fully gaining the trust of Philoctetes, while he is in a paroxysm of pain, Philoctetes hands his bow to Neoptolemus who now find himself in possession of the only thing that has kept this helpless cripple alive and his only belonging besides his rags and festering wounds that he can call his own.

He is about to run back to the ship that is quietly waiting along the coast for him and the bow of Heracles, when he is overcome by the suffering and heartache of Philoctetes. He instead tells him of the plot against him and after a bit of hesitation gives the bow back and tries to persuade Philoctetes to come with him to Troy where his victory has already been prophesied, but to no avail. Philoctetes is enraged by the audacity of a further betrayal, by taking his bow Neoptolemus has despoiled him of life and its return is only the merest salve on a gaping wound.

Odysseus eventually shows up and tries to persuade Philoctetes to put this recent betrayal behind him and return with them to Troy where he will "be the peer of the bravest, with whom you are destined to take Troy by storm and raze it to dust"...but the flattery and promises of grandeur do little to assuage his cosmic black hole of bitterness.

At the last minute Heracles shows up and convinces Philoctetes to go where mythic tradition requires him to go.

Heracles:...You shall go with yonder man to the Trojan city, where, first, you shall be healed of your sore malady. Then chosen out as foremost in prowess of the host, with my bow you shall slay Paris, the author of these ills. You shall sack Troy; you shall carry the spoils to your home, for the joy of Poeas your sire, even to your own Oetaean heights. And whatever spoils you receive from the host, take from them a thank offering for my bow to my pyre...

Heracles makes a compelling argument/ he's a god and no one can really argue with him, so Philoctetes, being persuaded,  puts his bitterness aside and makes his way to Troy for his glory and vindication.

According to Simon Goldhill, in his essay "The Language of Tragedy: rhetoric and communication" (The Cambridge Companion to Greek Tragedy, edited by P.E. Easterling) Goldhill says "Deception, persuasion, and the morality of how language is to be used are constant subjects of discussion in the play: it is a key sign of how men interrelate. Significantly, Philoctete's first delight in meeting Neoptolemus after many years of solitude is 'to hear a Greek voice again': that this voice should be a lure in a deceptive plot is typical of the ironies, powers and deception of language..."