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James Joyce鈥檚听Ulysses听is a venerable and yet intimidating tome, slashing rules of plot, narration, and style with relentless acuity, and presenting a new vision of what the novel should be. When considering the intricacies that make this work function on the many levels that it does, the role of the author himself is called into question鈥攆or what sort of an author might Joyce have been to create such a work as听Ulysses? And when considering Joyce鈥檚 role as author, the question of art itself surfaces in terms of the composition of the novel (i.e., what artistic vision prompted Joyce to write the novel as it is written), but also within the context of plot and characterization (i.e., how art is infused within the novel itself, affecting the characters therein). In lieu of the question of the role of the artist, one might look to a quotation regarding art and the artist from Joyce鈥檚 prior work,听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which presents the artist as being 鈥渓ike the God of creation, [in that he] remains within or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, paring his fingernails鈥� (Joyce,听A Portrait,听269). In light of that statement, bearing in mind Carlyle鈥檚 sentiments regarding the true nature of the Poet, and by examining the craftsmanship of听Ulysses, particularly in the use of style and objective narration, James Joyce鈥檚 view on the artist emerges: the artist, whether he/she takes the form of the writer, the reader, or the characters themselves, is any individual that is able to see the world through untainted lenses, to rip aside illusory vestures in order to reveal the heart and meaning which lurks subtly within the innocuous events of daily life.

In听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen ruminates on the role of the artist in the creation of his/her art, and determines that 鈥渢he personality of the artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalizes itself.鈥� Here, he suggests that though the artist himself is deeply immersed within the work, his personality 鈥渇lowing round and round the persons and the action like a vital sea,鈥� he also takes great care to eliminate traces of his opinions and personal thoughts from the narrative. The work of art then becomes universally accessible, and is 鈥渘o longer personal鈥� (248). Joyce鈥檚 role in听Ulysses听mirrors Stephen鈥檚 notion, in that Joyce is simultaneously absent from the text and involved in it.

In order to examine how Joyce achieves this balance of objectivity toward and immersion within his text, we must first isolate the narrative devices he employs, for, as Stephen determined, the narration must be free of the artist in order for it to be read universally, and in order for the characters to be allowed to speak for themselves (249).听Ulysses听is renowned for its use of stream of consciousness narration. A classic example of stream of consciousness within Joyce鈥檚听Ulysses听occurs in the closing segment of the novel, the 鈥淧enelope鈥� episode, which features the unadulterated flow of Molly Bloom鈥檚 thoughts as she attempts to fall asleep. The episode is comprised of eight enormous sentences of no punctuation, and thereby effectively portrays the continuous flow from thought to thought. The following lines begin the episode, and stand as an adequate representation of the stream of consciousness method of narration:

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Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the听City Arms听hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting to that old faggot Mrs. Riordan鈥� (Joyce,听Ulysses,听871)

In utilizing the stream of consciousness form to portray the psychological nature of his characters, Joyce is able to distance himself from the work, and to thereby portray the characters in an untainted, unbiased way. In order to illustrate the extent to which Joyce鈥檚 characters are made to speak for themselves, one might look to another novel with a psychological preoccupation.听Mrs. Dalloway听by Virginia Woolf shares much in common with听Ulysses; they both portray the happenings of one single day, and both focus on the psychological nature of the characters. Woolf鈥檚 style of narration is differentiated from Joyce鈥檚 in her frequent use of interior monologue, which allows for a third-person perspective to help guide the reader through a character鈥檚 thoughts. This is exemplified in the following passage: 鈥淗ow fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did . . .鈥� (Woolf 1). While the third-person guidance is helpful in navigating the thoughts of the character, Woolf鈥檚 use of interior monologue instead of straight stream of consciousness allows for an interlocutor in the character鈥檚 thoughts, thereby making the thoughts into less of a genuine or natural reflection of the character.

Joyce does employ third-person narration so as to portray the unfolding of action around the central character, but he uses it less frequently, and more seamlessly within the characters鈥� thoughts than Woolf does. This occurs, for example, in the following passage: 鈥淢r Bloom, alone looked at the titles.听Fair Tyrants听by James Lovebirch. Know the kind that is. Had it? Yes. He opened it. Thought so鈥� (Joyce,听Ulysses,听302). There, a third-person narrator is present, but is integrated so intricately within Bloom鈥檚 thoughts that it is hardly noticeable, and hardly distracts from the thoughts themselves. Joyce鈥檚 form of narration, especially when compared to Woolf鈥檚, depicts Joyce鈥檚 view of the artist: that is, that the artist 鈥渞efines himself out of existence鈥� in order to present an unbiased portrait of the characters鈥� thoughts. This allows an honest portrayal of daily life to emerge, from which the reader is then challenged to gather meaning and understanding. And this vision of reality is critical to the notion of art, as Carlyle explains in 鈥淗ero as Poet.鈥� According to Carlyle, 鈥淭he job of 鈥� the artist, is to reveal to us the divine mystery, to pull aside the vesture and to bring the meaning to the surface. That always is his message; he is to reveal that to us, that sacred mystery which he more than others lives ever present with鈥� (Carlyle 2).

Though Joyce inserts no personal opinion within the narration on the characters鈥� thoughts, actions, and choices, he bears indisputable artistic presence in the novel鈥檚 intricate craftsmanship. This is particularly evident in Joyce鈥檚 use of style; the novel functions as a sort of compendium of Western literary style and form. Stylistic approaches in the novel vary from the journalistic approach (in Aeolus), the mathematical/scientific, naturalistic approach (in 鈥淚thaca鈥�), and the musical approach (in 鈥淪irens鈥�), and so on. An ideal example of Joyce鈥檚 stylistic control is 鈥淥xen of the Sun,鈥� an episode brimming with imitations and parodies of a full panorama of major English prose styles. The episode tours through English literary history, touching upon the most renowned works and authors of the language, such as听Everyman,听Morte d鈥橝rthur, Pilgrim鈥檚 Progress, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, David Copperfield,听andFaust. In his scrupulous stylistic rendering of this episode, which begins in the Anglo-Saxon period and ends in the garbled slang language of twentieth century America, Joyce implies disdain at the decline in the efficacy of the English language. Here, then, Joyce is present; through artistic craftsmanship, he calls attention to a personal concern or observation.

When considering the complexity of the composition of 鈥淥xen of the Sun,鈥� the reader is forced to ask the question: why? Certainly the episode is not just the product of some literary experiment. The constant fluctuation in style is Joyce鈥檚 way of calling attention to some greater idea, of alerting his readers to some greater truth. Multiple interpretations have been offered in regards to what that greater truth or idea may be. One critic, Lawrence, suggests that 鈥淛oyce is at pains to show that style confers a role on character; when the style changes, a new fictional role is created鈥� (Lawrence 131). Evidence for that notion lies in the ongoing changing of the characters鈥� names: Bloom becomes traveller Leopold, Leop. Bloom of Crawford鈥檚 journal, and Mr Cautious Calmer (132). Rod Mengham purports that the episode stands as an indictment of literary anthologies, which are created with the intention of representing the English language. In keeping with that theory, 鈥淥xen of the Sun鈥� exemplifies the inability to anthologize听Ulysses, because no one style reigns. The digression into common slang at the end of the episode, with the use of such phrases as 鈥淟ovey lovekin,鈥� 鈥渟itinems,鈥� and 鈥渃hokeechokee,鈥� is perhaps suggestive of Joyce鈥檚 most obvious criticism in this episode (Joyce,听Ulysses, 558-560). For, in tracing the evolution of the English language, and in ending with the muddled slang of the twentieth century, Joyce points to the steady disintegration of the English language. Words are misused, phrases corrupted, and the eloquent prose of the past is reduced to nonsense. His presence is subtle, and yet Joyce, as the artist, calls upon and reveals an issue of great importance, upon which the reader is then challenged to contemplate and reflect.

鈥淥xen of the Sun,鈥� and the novel as a whole, is so meticulously crafted that the reader senses a degree of authorial expectation.听Ulysses听is no breezy paperback to be read wistfully on the beach; instead, it seems that each word is charged with layers of meaning, ready to be unravelled by the careful reader. Joyce, then, expects his audience to commit to the novel, and to devote a good amount of reflection and contemplation to each word written on the page. Otherwise, the meanings of the novel are lost, and much time has been wasted. The difficulty of understanding the text requires that the reader be an artist him/herself. The scrupulous reading that听Ulysses听requires is a form of intricate craftsmanship, yes, but also, if the reader is able, by means of that craftsmanship, to understand the novel, to hear the whispered words of meaning latent in the text, a connection has been made, and a barrier between reader and writer has been felled. This calls to mind Stephen鈥檚 theory of aesthetics in听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which claims that lyrical literature is effective when 鈥渢he centre of emotional gravity is equidistant from the artist himself and from others.鈥� In reading听Ulysses, the reader is involved in the text, or becomes a part of the novel itself, due to emotional involvement and discourse with the author, but also due to personal responses to it. In the words of Stephen:

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To speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and, having understood it, to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand鈥攖hat is art. (242)

And is that not the exact process undergone in not only the writing, but in the reading ofUlysses? The reader is presented with a text, which in a way represents the very 鈥渘ature鈥� that Stephen speaks of, and 鈥渟lowly and humbly and constantly鈥� attempts to understand it. And once it is understood, the reader is able to hold that understanding, that 鈥渋mage of beauty鈥� within them, and to integrate that new knowledge within their own lives. In reading it, then, and in reading it well, the audience creates art, too. Echoes of Carlyle are heard here, for he affirmed that 鈥淲e are all poets when we read a poem well鈥� (Carlyle 2).

Joyce, as the artist, is present in听Ulysses听in his stylistic flourishes, and in his challenges and expectations of the reader, but is also present in a more straightforward way. As Stephen suggests in听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,听鈥渢he simplest epical form is seen emerging out of lyrical literature when the artist prolongs and broods upon himself as the centre of an epical event and this form progresses till the centre of emotional gravity is equidistant from the artist himself and from others鈥� (Joyce,听A Portrait,听269). Joyce as the artist encapsulates this notion, since he based the two main characters of his novel, Leopold Bloom and Stephen Dedalus, after various aspects of himself.听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man听has been referred to as a semiautobiographical work; it chronicles Stephen Dedalus鈥� youth, including his boyhood experiences with bullying, burgeoning sexuality, and increased dissatisfaction with the constraints enacted by his country and by his religion. It is commonly understood that Joyce drew upon his own boyhood experiences for the writing of the novel, and indeed the parallels between fact and fiction are many: Joyce too was subject to bullying, was faced with his mother鈥檚 death, and was wrought with anger and confusion regarding nationalism and religion. Stephen is not a perfect echo of Joyce, of course; his character fluctuates persistently throughout听A Portrait, and as Thomas Grayson suggests, 鈥淎fter the fourth chapter of听A Portrait, the author鈥檚 attitude toward Stephen becomes one of estrangement. It is almost as if听A Portrait听serves to exorcize Stephen from the personality of Joyce, thereby permitting the emergence of the artist鈥� (Grayson 2).

Correspondingly,听A Portrait听ultimately serves as Stephen鈥檚 (and perhaps Joyce鈥檚, by extension) growing understanding of art, of what it means to him, and of what role art shall play in his adult life. Stephen comes to realize that he must shun those conventions which he finds limiting in pursuit of self-expression: "I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning." (Joyce,听A Portrait,听286). The same can be said of Joyce, who shunned his religion, nation, and home in exchange for exile and a life devoted to literary self-expression. In听A Portrait, Joyce masterfully imbues personal experience with artistic flourish. As Roy Pascal points out, 鈥渨hile a great deal in [A Portrait]听could be taken over, as true fact . . . and is attested by his family and friends, at the same time it clearly is arranged and shaped by an artist鈥檚 hand; it is mysteriously lit . . . so that the distinctive features of the artist-hero are lifted into prominence鈥� (Pascal 2).

While听A Portrait听can be seen as a reflection of Joyce鈥檚 youthful sparring with maturity, restraints of convention, and with the notion of art,听Ulysses听can be viewed as an expression of Joyce鈥檚 middle-aged identity. Indeed, upon examining the authenticity of Bloom鈥檚 character as a reflection of an aging man, especially in comparison to the youthful vivacity of Stephen in听A Portrait, Harold Bloom suggests that听鈥�Ulysses听might indeed be called听A Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man鈥澨�(Bloom 2). Joyce鈥檚 perception of himself as a middle-aged adult helped him to form the character of Leopold Bloom: 鈥淗e was prodded to [Bloom鈥檚 creation] by a conviction that his own nature was cast in the heroic mould, although physically he was as cowardly as morally he was intrepid,鈥� claims Richard Ellman, author of听The Consciousness of Joyce听(Ellman 11). In examining his own feeling of potential heroism, in combination with his physical limitations, Joyce came to the conclusion that 鈥測et another heroism, too everydayish to be recognized as such, might be secretly at work in a seemingly unheroic age鈥� (11). From such a notion blossomed the character of Leopold Bloom鈥攎orally and artistically advanced within a mundane, illusory world.

In fashioning the protagonists of his novels after former or current versions of himself, Joyce exercises the ultimate form of honest writing鈥攖hat is, writing from experience. And as Stephen suggests in听A Portrait, such immersion of the artist within his characters allows a naturalness that is unique to personal experience. Yet, because of his retraction from the narration itself, the characters are universally applicable and sympathetic. Stephen鈥檚 notion that an artist must be ingrained within the content of his work in order for it to be true art is echoed in Carlyle鈥檚 鈥淗ero as Poet.鈥� Carlyle claims that true art is not formed by mere effort and self-discipline; he posits that 鈥渋n order for a Poet to be effective, he must be experienced with the matters which he discusses or portrays鈥� (Carlyle 1). Carlyle鈥檚 notion of the Poet, used interchangeably with the notion of the Great Man, can be in this case extended to the artist in general. So, in keeping with Carlyle and Stephen鈥檚 claims, personal experience is necessary to effectively convey emotions or truths. As Carlyle claims, 鈥淭o know a thing, what we can call knowing, a man must first love the thing, sympathize with it: that is, be virtuously related to it鈥� (10). Only upon knowing a thing truly, through love or experience or sympathy, can the artist authentically replicate or portray that thing. Joyce鈥檚 personal intimacy with Bloom and Stephen allows for that authenticity, and allows for an emergence of truth and meaning from their relationship with each other, and from their separate wanderings through an ordinary day.

Stephen and Bloom, as extensions of Joyce himself, have artistic aspects to their characters. Stephen is identified as an artist in the very title of听A Portrait, and his quest for art predominates in both that novel and听Ulysses.听Unfortunately, Stephen鈥檚 preoccupation with his as-of-yet artless life actually prevents him from creating anything, and prevents him from seeing the world from the artist鈥檚 perspective, which is one based on observation and understanding of underlying truths. Some critics, such as Peake, suggest that Stephen-the-artist is born through association with Leopold Bloom. While the theory is interesting, and perhaps even plausible, Stephen鈥檚 existence, obfuscated by religious concerns, political concerns, and self-imposed isolation, is not one of artistic bearing, as far as this reading is concerned. Trapped in his own mind, Stephen is unable to see the world around him, and is therefore unable to understand the world around him. Instead, it is Bloom who truly triumphs in terms of artistry, and who effectively observes, understands, and reveals truth about the world around him.

Leopold Bloom has more than just the touch of the artist about him, for he navigates through the inane trivialities of daily living, and in doing so, reveals underlying truths and meanings. Leopold Bloom鈥檚 perambulations through humdrum routines and everyday trifles may not be remarkable in and of themselves; it is Bloom鈥檚 understanding of those routines which is remarkable. Bloom is keenly perceptive, and is able to see to the heart of things, and to peel back the chimerical layers of falsehood, corporeality, and superficiality to reveal the essence and meaning within daily living. We see Bloom鈥檚 observant nature and understanding of that which he observes in the following passage:

Cityful passing away, other city coming, passing away too: other coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. ... Piled up in cities, worn away age after age. Pyramids in sand. Built on bread and onions. Slaves. Chine wall. Babylon. Big stones left. Round towers. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerry-built, Kerwan鈥檚 mushroom houses, built of breeze. Shelter for the night. No one is anything. (Joyce,听Ulysses,听208)

This passage shows the extent to which Bloom is aware: he observes the houses, the street, the evidence of mankind stacked up, brick by brick all around him, and perceives in it the transience of it all, the insignificance of it all. He is able to understand the smallness of mankind and the mortality of man and all his creations. Of this passage, William Schutte contends, 鈥淚n the eye of history, the individual is literally nothing鈥� (Schutte 6). Bloom鈥檚 reflections on the streets of Dublin suggest that he 鈥渋s not ... merely a commentator. Despite his detachment from many of the concerns of his fellow Dubliners, his musings reflect an intense involvement with the world that streams by him as he walks鈥� (6). In this way, Bloom himself is an artist, for 鈥渉e incarnates not only kindness and goodness, but high art鈥檚 vision of reality鈥� (Bloom 2). Bloom embodies Joyce and Carlyle鈥檚 shared view on the artist: that individual who looks, sees, and understands, that individual who sees past the physical world and into the mystery underlying it all, and who reveals that mystery to those who might have difficulty seeing it.

Through the examination of Joyce鈥檚 works,听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man听andUlysses, much evidence can be found regarding Joyce鈥檚 view of the artist, in reference to himself, and in general. Consistent with Stephen鈥檚 premise about art鈥攖hat the artist is simultaneously within the text and above it鈥擩oyce fashions his art around real experience and observation from his own life, while maintaining objectivity through the use of stream of consciousness and narration. His techniques, manipulation of style, and the characters he created all indicate Joyce鈥檚 notion of the artist as he who is able to see the meaning in life, and to reveal it to others. So be it reader, writer, character, or any innocuous wanderer of sidewalks and streets, if he or she sees the truth and expresses it, art has been created, and another artist has been born.

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Works Cited

Bloom, Harold.听James Joyce. New York: Chelsea House, 1986. Print.

Carlyle, Thomas, and Carl Nimeyer. "The Hero as Poet."听On Heroes, Hero-worship, and the Heroic in History.Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1966.听The Literature Database. Web. 13 Aug. 2011.

Ellmann, Richard.听The Consciousness of Joyce. Toronto: Oxford UP, 1977. Print.

Grayson, Thomas W. "James Joyce and Stephen Dedalus: The Theory of Aesthetics."听James Joyce Quarterly4.4 (1964).听JSTOR. Web. 14 Aug. 2011.

Joyce, James.听A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.听New York: Viking, 1964. Print.

Joyce, James.听Ulysses: Annotated Student Edition.听London: Penguin, 2000. Print.

Lawrence, Karen.听The Odyssey of Style in Ulysses. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1981. Print.

Pascal, Roy. "The Autobiographical Novel and The Autobiography."听Essays in Criticism听IX.2 (1959): 134-50.Oxford Journals. Web. 14 Aug. 2011.

Peake, Charles H.听James Joyce the Citizen and the Artist. London: Arnold, 1977. Print.

Woolf, Virginia.听Mrs. Dalloway. New York: Harcourt, Brace and, 1925. Print.

听 听 听 听 听 Political issues have a tendency to manifest in popular culture in an overwhelmingly polarizing manner. The content of such conversations often revolves around monologues in which opposing factions seek to one-up each other in order to emerge victorious, rendering true dialogues in which the nuances of complex issues are elucidated and actually discussed all but obsolete. Taken at face value,听Antigone听by Jean Anouilh can be interpreted as an inventive re-imagining of Sophocles鈥� Ancient Greek play of the same name. It can also be taken as an examination of the coming of age process in which idealism meets harsh reality. However, when viewed in light of the political climate of 1944 France, where this play was written and when it was first performed, Anuoilh鈥檚Antigone听emerges as a complicated exploration of the various responses to the Nazi occupation of France in the early 1940s. Beyond the political climate in which the play was written, the mere mention of the name Antigone conjures the tragic image of an inescapable fate. Thus, in presenting his political commentary through the frame of an already defined story in which the end result is known from the beginning, Anouilh creates a forum through which he is able to engage in the particularities of the issues at hand within a pre-defined scenario eliminating the mystery and focusing on the motivations. It is through Anouilh鈥檚 presentation of the conflict between Antigone and Creon that he is able to explicate the complex, multi-faceted motivations behind both those who resisted and those who colluded with the Nazi occupation of France in a way that neither condemns nor shows full support of either side. Instead, Anouilh鈥檚 argument can more effectively be seen as embracing the intricacies of both sides in a way that acknowledges the struggles and decision making practices that are used to justify standing as collaborator or member of the resistance.听
听 听 听 听 听 At no point in听Antigone听does Anouilh claim to present a new story, or even a significant variation in plot from the familiar, original Sophocles version. In fact, at two separate times throughout the unfolding of events, Anouilh, through the characters of the Prologue and Chorus, speaks directly to the audience, reaffirming that the story will end as they expect. Anouilh鈥檚 manifestations of the characters here are introduced in the prologue not just as characters, but as actors who are playing the characters. This effectively blurs the line between performer and character, introducing an aspect of meta-theatre that serves to strengthen the impact of the allegorical relationship between the characters as they are written and the larger political ideals that they represent. The prologue explains, 鈥渢he people gathered here are about to act the story of Antigone. The one who鈥檚 going to play the lead is the thin girl sitting there silent . . . She鈥檚 thinking she鈥檚 going to die鈥� (3). This introduction clarifies that this is a set of actors enacting the roles of individuals who are written, the actors are merely performing parts. Beyond the audience鈥檚 assumed prior engagement with the material, Anouilh, with this prologue, provides a reminder that the actors too are aware of the events of the play. Anouilh goes on, 鈥渂ut there鈥檚 nothing to be done. Her name is Antigone, and she鈥檚 going to have to play her part right through to the end鈥� (3). She has no choice but to portray a character meeting her death. Creon too is introduced in the prologue. His background is given as he is described 鈥渂efore, in the reign of Oedipus, when Creon was only the most influential man at court, he loved music and fine buildings, would spend hours prowling round Thebe鈥檚 little antique shops鈥� (4). But, due to factors far outside of his own control, 鈥淥edipus and his sons are dead. And Creon, forsaking his books and his collector鈥檚 pieces, has rolled up his sleeves and taken their place鈥� (4). Anouilh then introduces a note of doubt into Creon鈥檚 character when he reveals that 鈥渉e wonders whether it鈥檚 not pointless, being a leader of men. Whether it鈥檚 not a sordid business that ought to be left to others less . . . sensitive than himself鈥� (4). Again, Anouilh makes no effort to reinvent the plot of the basic story. The characters find themselves in the same situations and under the same obligations as Sophocles鈥� characters. However, as early as the prologue, Anouilh begins to redefine their motivations.
听 听 听 听 听 Another aspect of the structure of the play paramount to developing Anouilh鈥檚 political exploration is the Chorus鈥檚 speech that occurs once the definitive events have taken place and the ramifications are beginning to be acknowledged. Anouilh breaks the action to remind his audience that he has written a tragedy, which is 鈥渘ice and neat鈥� (26). It is unlike a drama, which presents 鈥済limmers of hope鈥� in which 鈥渄eath becomes something terrible, a kind of accident鈥� (26). No, Anouilh is dealing in tragedy in which 鈥渢here鈥檚 no lousy hope left. You know you鈥檙e caught, caught at last like a rat in a trap, with all heaven against you鈥� (26). He further explains that 鈥渢ragedy is gratuitous. Pointless, irremediable鈥� (26). Tragedy seemingly has no reason or cause and there is no cure. Once the events have been set into motion, there is no option but to see it through as any attempts to contest or change the structural factors of the situation will prove futile. It is within these parameters then, from which there is no escape, that Anouilh is able to present, in a non-threatening and exploratory manner, the complexity of the motivations of the different characters, namely Antigone and Creon, as they attempt to navigate their way through an unbeatable convergence of events. In presenting the seemingly opposed nature of Antigone and Creon as a representation of the struggle between the resistance and colluders of the Nazi occupation of France, Anouilh creates the freedom to work within a defined and definite space. He removes the importance of cause and effect, thus isolating motivation and paving the way for his intensive character study in which motivations are explored and justifications are attempted.听
听 听 听 听 听 Now that his structure has been explored it is possible to examine Anouilh鈥檚 discussion of the nature of those who colluded with the Nazi occupation of France through his depiction of Creon, the world worn, politically savvy but reluctant king of Thebes. As is revealed in the prologue, Creon did not seek this position, but in a move that is vital to his character, he did not fight it once it was bestowed upon him. When he is presented with Antigone as the violator of his decree, his law, he is astonished and immediately attempts to devise a cover-up that would keep Antigone from suffering the consequences of her actions. He says to her, 鈥淟isten, then. Go back to your room, go to bed, and say you鈥檙e ill and haven鈥檛 been out since yesterday. Get your nurse to say the same. I鈥檒l get rid of those three men鈥� (31). In this moment, Creon demonstrates that he is not fundamentally committed to the law, as he appears only too eager to violate it in order to protect his family at the first instance of discontent. When Antigone refuses this offer, he launches into an explanation of the differences between his style of ruling and that which had previously been employed by members of Antigone鈥檚 immediate family. He claims that 鈥渨hat Thebes needs now is an ordinary king with no fuss. . . all I aim at now I鈥檓 king is to try to see the world鈥檚 a bit more sensibly run. There鈥檚 nothing very heroic about it 鈥� just an everyday job, and like the rest of them, not always very amusing鈥� (33). Creon does not view his kingship as some kind of grand decree, bestowing upon him unlimited power over the Thebans; rather, Creon describes his relationship to the job as that of a typical laborer, charged with enacting a role. Further, he demonstrates his keen understanding of the political climate in which he exists. He tries to explain to Antigone, 鈥渄on鈥檛 you realise that if anyone other than those three louts gets to know what you鈥檝e tried to do, I shall have to have you killed?鈥� (34). He does not have to kill her for her actions, but rather for the public perception of her actions. Essentially, to Creon, it does not matter what she has done on a moral or ethical level. What matters is that he is perceived as keeping the law, as he has defined it, by those over whom he is ruling. Not only is he aware that these are the motivations under which he operates, but he is willing to share his thought process with Antigone, apparently feeling no shame or regret over ruling in such a manner. While these acts and philosophies exist on a personal level for Creon, each of his moves can be seen as a calculated attempt to justify his behaviors and, by extension, the actions of the collaborators.
听 听 听 听 听 In a passionate attempt to convince Antigone to understand his point of view, Creon constructs a metaphor through which he attempts to paint his role as peacekeeper as not only more important, but also far more difficult than the role of rebel that Antigone ascribes to herself. Creon explains that

Someone has to say yes. Someone has to steer the ship. It鈥檚 letting in water on all sides. It鈥檚 full of crime and stupidity and suffering. The rudder鈥檚 adrift. The crew won鈥檛 obey orders. . . the sails will soon be in shreds, and the whole lot of them will die together because they think of nothing but their own skins and their own petty concerns. (39-40)

Creon paints a picture of widespread destruction that, as has been established of the nature of tragedy, cannot be curbed or escaped by any amount of heroics or effort. In such a situation, Creon believes that somebody must steer the ship, somebody must step in and contend with the conflicting forces attacking from all directions. Somebody must balance the threat of the Nazi forces, attempting to impose their power from the outside while simultaneously keeping some sort of peace in the kingdom that is already chaotic and in the midst of political upheaval. Without a central figure, a voice striving to keep these competing forces in check, the kingdom will either descend into anarchy, in which the citizens heave themselves into destruction, concerned only for their own ideals and well being, or they must relinquish power to horrific and听 unjust rule by force. Creon goes on to claim that 鈥渢o say yes you have to sweat, roll up your sleeves, grab hold of life, plunge in up to the neck. It鈥檚 easy to say no, even if it means dying鈥� (40). So not only is he able to establish his view as right and necessary for the survival of the state, but it is more difficult and requires more sacrifice and suffering, even more than, as he puts it, simply dying for a cause.
听 听 听 听 听 Creon, at this point realizing that there will be no rehabilitating Antigone and that she has resigned to die, decides to explain to her the truth behind the deaths of her brothers and his role in constructing the story behind their demise. He weaves a tale of their insolence and mistreatment of their father, their exile and attempts to end their father鈥檚 life and their eventual murder of each other (43-44). He then claims 鈥渋t was necessary for me to make a hero of one of them. . . I gave orders for whichever corpse was least damaged to be scraped together for my national obsequies. And for the other to be left to rot. I don鈥檛 even know which was which. And I assure you I don鈥檛 care鈥� (44). In this revelation, Creon attempts to paint this extreme act of obscuring the details surrounding the lives and deaths of the brothers and his decision making process that went into declaring one hero and one as traitor as normal and even necessary to maintain the balance that he is striving to project as king. In creating a hero and an enemy, Creon is able to harness the emotions of the people in such a way to affirm his own power as ruler. Once again, Anouilh imbues Creon with a thought process that attempts, on one level, to explain away and justify these, what can certainly be seen as, horrific and even criminal acts in the name of a semblance of peace and happiness, however surface-level this ideal may seem. In the end, Creon, and through him the colluders, exist to perpetuate the survival of their people, giving little thought to the quality of life they are able to achieve. Creon himself has had to give up his former passions, 鈥渕usic and fine buildings鈥� (4) in order to keep the boat afloat. In fact, in the name of keeping the boat afloat, Creon turns his back on his entire immediate family, losing both his son (58) and his wife (59) to self inflicted deaths. All the while, after the tragedy and loss, Creon explains, 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 just fold your arms and do nothing. They say it鈥檚 dirty work. But if you don鈥檛 do it, who will?鈥� (60). Thus, Anouilh presents a view of the collaborators as hard workers, more concerned with the survival and maintenance of the state than they are with any other aspect of life. Personal happiness, tragic losses and difficult sacrifices take a back seat to mere existence.
听 听 听 听 听 Antigone, on the other hand, encapsulates Anouilh鈥檚 depiction of the resistance movement against the Nazi occupation of France. Antigone is the young, idealistic, and some might say stubborn niece of the king. Antigone is presented as an individual who is unwaveringly devoted to her cause. Whether or not she is able to conceptualize and convey exactly what her cause is, she certainly knows what it is that she stands against. From the beginning, Antigone has chosen a path, and nothing will deter her from burying her scorned brother and facing death for her actions. She explains to Ismene, 鈥淓veryone has his part to play. Creon has to have us put to death, and we have to go and bury our brother鈥� (11). Not only does she stand firmly in her convictions regarding what act she will take, she does so with the full knowledge of the consequences of her actions. As the events of the play unfold, however, Antigone finds that her reasoning, her justification for her actions, is eroded away one excuse at a time. First, Creon calls to her attention the question of legitimacy in the burial process where the priests of Thebes are 鈥渟crambling through it like overworked clerks, gabbling the words, skimping the movements, getting the deceased out of the way as fast as they can so they can botch another one before lunch?鈥� (35). In this moment, Antigone鈥檚 justification of providing her brother with a proper burial is problematized, as the burial rights she perceives as so important are not even taken seriously by the religious leaders of the state. She claims that she must bury him because there is 鈥渘othing else鈥� she can do, 鈥渂ut at least I can do that. And one must do what one can鈥� (35). Interestingly, here she backs up her actions with a justification similar to Creon鈥檚 own: doing what one can with the situation in which they find themselves. Antigone then frames her resistance in terms of her actions in opposition to Creon鈥檚; she explains 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 say yes! What do I care about politics and what you 鈥榟ave鈥� to do and all your paltry affairs! I can still say no to anything I don鈥檛 like, and I alone am the judge. You, with your crown and your guards and your paraphernalia 鈥� all you can do, because you said yes, is have me put to death鈥� (38). Through this explanation, the resistance view can be seen as responding to the collaborator鈥檚 willingness to forfeit a certain degree of personal freedom and freedom of choice in order to perpetuate a way of life that is neither satisfying nor worth the sacrifice.
听 听 听 听 听 After learning of the true nature of her brother鈥檚 demise, Antigone is once again thrust into uncertainty as her justification, the moral center around which she has structured and defended her argument up until this point, has been effectively proven unworthy. Antigone admits to Creon that 鈥淧erhaps. I believed in it鈥� (44). She, like the rest of the citizens, bought into Creon鈥檚 political spectacle in which the brothers died in their attempt to claim the crown over a sense of duty to the state. Antigone鈥檚 illusions are shattered and she, for the first time, abandons her convictions as she agrees to go to her room and let Creon orchestrate a cover up so that Antigone can continue to live as she has been. However, Creon takes his minor victory too far in his attempt to illustrate the type of life that Antigone has just reclaimed in escaping death. He describes a life in which he wishes her to 鈥済et married quickly, Antigone, and be happy. Life鈥檚 not what you think. It鈥檚 like water 鈥� and the young let it slip through their fingers without thinking. . . life is probably nothing other than happiness鈥� (45). Using the word happiness is his fatal flaw as Antigone begins to wonder for herself what her happiness would consist of in the climate that Creon and the collaborators are securing. She exclaims,

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You disgust me, all of you, you and your happiness! And your life, that has to be loved at any price. . . With just a little hope left every day 鈥� if you don鈥檛 expect too much. But I want everything, now! And to the full! Or else I decline the offer, lock, stock and barrel! I don鈥檛 want to be sensible, and satisfied with a scrap 鈥� if I behave myself. (47)

Thus the resistance stands strongest not for what it supports, not for its attempts to justify their actions based on individual acts or beliefs, but instead they gain their strength and backing in what they stand in opposition to. They are responding to a way of life that has forgone what they see as worth living for in favor of a mock happiness, content to survive but to the detriment of standards and a quality of life that Antigone, and by extension the resistance, deem necessary to maintain a worthwhile existence. Finally, just as Creon鈥檚 reality involves unimaginable sacrifices, specifically the loss of his entire immediate family, Antigone does go to her death, though in the end she too kills herself. However, Antigone does not go to death with the unwavering certainty she exhibited at the beginning of the play. She admits to the guard 鈥溾�橧 don鈥檛 know any more what I鈥檓 dying for . . .鈥� . . . 鈥業鈥檓 afraid. . .鈥� (She stops, straightens up.) No, cross all that out! It鈥檚 better no one should ever know鈥� (57). Unlike the collaborators, members of the resistance, as captured by Anouilh, are unable to effectively articulate their position. They have no carefully constructed metaphor justifying their actions. They must rely on their instinct and passion to live a life that has more to offer than survival at any cost. Despite her never-ending attempt to justify, perhaps just for herself, her motivations for her actions, Antigone goes to her death, young and idealistic and without having truly experienced life outside of the comfort of childhood: an unnecessary death indeed.
听 听 听 听 听 The importance of Anouilh鈥檚听Antigone听lies in its rare capacity to present a situation in which the cards have been dealt. There is no contesting the actions that have occurred or the end results that will follow. The contribution of this play centers less on whether or not it makes a persuasive argument for those who resisted or colluded with Nazi forces; rather it provides a forum for the vast complexity of motivations behind both positions to be explored and the harsh reality faced by both to be understood beyond the theoretical implications. Creon, as representative of the colluders, exhibits noble motivations in his desperate attempt to keep the ship afloat. He recognizes in himself the fact that he has given up on the way of life expected by youth. He knows he has sacrificed, but he does so in order to ensure the survival of as many people as possible. However, in trying to prevent death and destruction he plays a part in perpetuating just that in his own family. The colluders are painted as realists posed to sacrifice, perhaps everything they hold dear, for the benefit of the survival of the state. Antigone, as she typifies the resistance, also enacts complex but equally flawed ideals. She wants to sacrifice nothing, but with no regard for her personal well-being. She searches for a valid justification for her actions, unable to effectively articulate her position other than that she stands for what the opposition has forgone. Despite her flaws, she does not deserve death. In the end, Anouilh presents two flawed but passionate individuals representative of the opposing factions in a deep-rooted political, moral and ethical struggle. Antigone moves the discussion from polarizing political debates to a fully formed exploration in which Anouilh delves deeply into both sides of the issue, allowing his audience to engage in both arguments; neither fully condemning nor declaring one superior to the other.

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Works Cited

Anouilh, Jean. Antigone. Trans. Barbara Bay. United Kingdom: Methuen Publishing, 2000.

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Wyrd and Wyrm, Brenda Kessenich