The King's Use Of Metaphors In Oedipus The King

Oedipus Tyrannus, as a story of revelation, abounds with metaphors for knowledge and ignorance: light contrasts with darkness, while sight opposes blindness. By following the employment of these metaphors and their referents through the play, we may observe a second revelation more foundational than the first, that of the nature of knowledge, or light, and of its relationship with the gods, the political community, and nature.
We find at first that light is to be cherished. Oedipus, the solver of riddles, guided by Apollo, not only beholds the light, but also shares his vision with the city. Through this is the city bound to him, for on its own it is blind, and its citizens are bound to “winging [their] way into darkness” (176). But as the
plot runs its course, light becomes cast in shadows before finally revealing itself as something dangerous, something unnatural. The harshness of its final form compels Oedipus to vow “I will never look on you again,” and, no longer the giver of light to the city, he orders himself hidden away from the land its people (86 - 87). The world of Oedipus Tyrannus is, by the closing of the play, a world in which knowledge of truth in its rawest form opposes nature and the community conforming to nature. It is a thing for a god, not a man. To begin, we note that keenness of vision installs and maintains Oedipus on the throne of Thebes, and that such keenness appears to be the salvation of the community.
By seeing through “the spell that hypnotized our lives,” says the priest, Oedipus “restored our life” and, it is assumed, became king of Thebes (Oedipus Tyrannus 1). During the events of the play, he justifies his reign in the same manner. Upon hearing the woes of the Thebes, he responds “I know well the pain you suffer and understand what brings you here . . . No, I am not blind to it,” before laying out the plan he had already set into motion to end their pain (OT 4). When Creon returns, sent earlier by Oedipus, with word from Apollo that “A hidden sore is festering in our lands,” Oedipus vows “I shall not cease until I bring the truth to light” (OT 4,5). In this last quotation we have an indication not only of Oedipus’s zeal for discovery but also of a democratic sentiment regarding knowledge — in bringing something to light, one shares that thing with all who have eyes, or, in this case, the chorus of Theban citizens that waits in silence before Oedipus and Creon. This sentiment appears earlier as well, for when Creon gently suggests that he accompany Oedipus inside and away from the Thebans so that they may not hear the oracle, Oedipus responds “Say it before all of us. I sorrow more for them than for myself,” as if knowledge is owed and beneficial to those suffering (OT
4). Another figure, Teiresias, “second only to Apollo, who can see the truth,” soon challenges this cozy notion of knowledge (OT 8). Teiresias introduces a new type of knowledge, for “all things are known” to him, including “the secrets of heaven and earth, the sacred and the profane” (OT 9). Knowledge of such things is perhaps unnatural, as light is to things that are by nature dark, and there is no doubt that this is what inspires Teiresias’s first words: “Oh God! How horrible wisdom is! How horrible when it does not help the wise!” (OT 9). Oedipus demands that Teiresias answer the city, but the prophet refuses, saying “I see the danger your words” (OT 9). Teiresias thus acknowledges, unlike Oedipus, that knowledge is ultimately both painful and a threat to the political community. Only when he is moved to anger does the prophet share his secrets, and this sharing is not so much a concession as it is an act of malice — the truth, far from immediately soothing the pain of the city, will not only destroy Oedipus but also disrupt the state. Accompanying this reversal of Oedipus’s conception of knowledge is a reversal of the metaphor.
Oedipus, unable still to comprehend the destructive knowledge, naturally mocks Teiresias, saying “You live in night, Teiresias, in night that never turns to day. And so, you cannot hurt me — or any man who sees the light” (OT 10). In some sense, Oedipus must be right. For one who, like Teiresias, knows the secrets of nature herself, secrets which thus are unnatural to know, perhaps light can no longer adequately symbolize knowledge. Teiresias’s mind moves in places where light does not naturally shine, and those still comforted by the sun cannot be touched by him from his
depths.
Or perhaps, as Oedipus discovers, the only comfort left to one who beholds light in its full intensity is blindness. With his birth finally revealed, Oedipus moans “O God! O no! I see it now! All clear! O Light! I will never look on you again!” (OT 27). While the last exclamation may be interpreted as a rejection of the knowledge that is to destroy him, it might just as well be a plea for forgiveness, an oath to never repeat his sin, the sin not of his unnatural marriage or his unnatural murder but of his third profanity, the unnatural viewing of what is unnatural, even if it is his own. In any case, Oedipus, upon confronting truth in its unadulterated form, here seems to understand the pain that Teiresias warned of, and blindness is the only solace left to him, for “Could these eyes have looked upon my father in the house of Hades . . . have faced my mother in her agony . . . have joy at the sight of my children? . . . Never!” (OT 31). While stabbing his eyes out is perhaps more of a dramatic metaphor than anything else, it is clear that beholding the unnatural corrupts for the beholder everything formerly natural.
At this point, Oedipus seems caught between the habits of his former self and of those he is beginning to develop. He commands dead Polybus to “see the evil from which [he] was born, the evil [he] has become,” recalling in a perverse way his earlier demands to Teiresias to tell the city what he saw. Soon after this, however, he grows weary, and perhaps truly understanding his position for the first time, he sobs “For the love of God, hide me somewhere. Hide me away from this land . . . No mortal but myself is able to bear my sins” (OT 31). The solver of riddles no longer wishes to spread knowledge indiscriminately but, recognizing its danger, and his duty to contain and thereby to bear it alone, demands his own exile. With his unnatural crimes Oedipus strikes a hammer against the values of Thebes, and if he is not removed, they will soon crack.
To end, let us consider the being who, if we are to believe the former king, caused his misery. When asked what drove him to blind himself, Oedipus responds “Apollo! It was Apollo! He brought this pain, this suffering to me” (OT 30). Perhaps he means that Apollo orchestrated Oedipus’s sins against his parents and nature, but more likely is that he recognizes Apollo, Phoebus Apollo, as the god who punished his overreaching with blinding light.