CIRCE
_A
Dramatic Fantasy_
_by_
ISAAC FLAGG
With a Frontispiece
by
Bernard Maybeck
Copyright
1915
By Isaac Flagg
Acting Rights Reserved
[Illustration]
_To_
MABEL LAMMÉ HAYS
_Rarest of enchantment deem_
_The beginning and the end:_
_At life’s morning in the dream,_
_At life’s evening in the friend._
PRINTED AND BOUND BY
THE ROYCROFTERS [Illustration]
EAST AURORA, NEW YORK
[Illustration]
THE ARGUMENT
Homer relates that Ulysses, king of Ithaca in Greece, sailing homeward
after the capture of Troy, drifted into unknown seas in consequence of
the wrath of Neptune; and after losing all but one of his twelve ships,
landed with the sole remaining vessel upon the island of the enchantress
Circe, who transformed one-half of his ship’s company, twenty-two in
number, into swine. He relates further that Ulysses, apprised by Mercury
of the fate of his companions, and furnished by the god with an antidote
for the spells of the sorceress, compelled her to restore his men to
their human shape. Thereupon, at the invitation of Circe the rest of the
crew join their mates at her palace, where all spend a year in festivity
and merry-making before proceeding on their way with precise instructions
from the Enchantress regarding the homeward voyage.
The experiences of Ulysses and his followers, as described in the
Odyssey, immediately previous to their arrival at the Isle of Circe,
had been of an extraordinary and alarming character. A number of men
had been devoured by Polyphemus the Cyclops in his cave, where he had
entrapped a party, the survivors escaping by riding out, clasped under
the bellies of his sheep, after they had made the monster drunk and
blinded his one eye with a fiery stake. Later, they came to the domain of
Æolus, king of the winds, who presented Ulysses with a number of bags
holding the adverse winds in confinement. But during the sleep of their
commander, when already near their native shore, some of the men through
curiosity untying the bags, the winds broke loose and swept them back to
Æolus, who drove them all forth with contempt. They next encountered the
Læstrygones, a race of man-eating giants. Being shown the way to the town
by a daughter of the giant king, some men were seized and devoured on the
spot; while from an attack made upon the ships collected in the harbor
only one vessel succeeded in escaping.
No mention is made of Penelope, the wife of Ulysses, at any point in
the story of Circe; but we read that Ulysses lingered in the enchanted
island, until his men were finally compelled, seizing an opportunity when
Circe was away, to remonstrate with their chief and rouse him to thoughts
of a return to his home.
Homer says that the attendants of the Enchantress in her palace were
nymphs, such as derive their being from the fountains, the groves, and
the rivers flowing to the sea.
The First Act of the play brings Ulysses and his companions into Circe’s
palace; the Second Act takes them out of it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CIRCE
_A Dramatic Fantasy_
[Illustration]
PERSONS REPRESENTED
CIRCE, the Enchantress
PHILINNA }
THERMIA } Nymphs, companions and attendants to Circe
MYRTO }
THRATTIS, the lute-girl
GRAEA, the dumb swine-maiden
Other nymphs attending Circe
MIKKOS, an ape
ULYSSES, a Commander
EURYLOCHUS, his mate
THERON, the ship’s cook
ELPENOR, a feeble-minded youth, the cook’s assistant
GLAUCUS }
PHORBAS }
PHILEMON } Sailors
XENIAS }
Other members of Ulysses’ ship’s-company
MERCURY, Messenger of the Immortals and Luck-bringer to men
THE PLACE: _A small woody island, inhabited only by the Enchantress and
her Nymphs, who dwell in a palace at the centre and summit of the isle._
[Illustration: CIRCE]
[Illustration: ACT ONE]
[Illustration: THE FIRST ACT]
I
A preliminary scene of mute action. The front of CIRCE’S palace at the
hour just after sunset. The edifice is of variously tinted stone, a
combination of several architectural masses. The windows of the building
are tall and very narrow, overshadowed with creeping plants. Its main
entrance, at the Left of the Centre, is from a massive porch with
gargoyles of serpents at the corners of its roof. The porch is reached
by a flight of wide, low steps; the doorway itself, low and wide, deeply
receding and darkened by the ample foliage of overhanging vines. The
palace faces eastward upon a smooth open court-yard enclosed by a wall
of stone with spacious gateway at the Right. The entrance to the court
at the Left corner of the building is inconspicuous. At the main gateway
there is artificial representation of wolves and leopards as if tame
and serving as watchdogs. Behind the court-yard wall rise large trees
throwing deep shadows in the twilight. A fountain, dragon-shaped, with
circular basin, is centrally placed in the court, that is just at the
Right of the porch steps.
As the curtain rises, a humming sound as of a swiftly turned
spinning-wheel is heard behind the scenes; and presently the music of
CIRCE’S song (the words of which are sung in a later Scene) is played
upon flute and violin. The fountain is playing, and its spray, rising
and falling intermittently, gleams with a golden light, occasionally
changing to a faint blue, and then becoming golden again. Some of the
serpentine gargoyles are seen to sway and writhe like living snakes. A
large _ape_ emerges from a small window above the porch, stands upon its
roof at first erect like a man, then poses upon all fours at the edge,
trying to look underneath into the doorway, and remains in this position.
A glimpse also is caught of the _Swine-maiden_, a tall, gaunt, witch-like
figure robed in gray, trailing behind her a very long cowhide whip.
Appearing suddenly from some place of concealment she passes furtively
and silently, with long strides, across the Left corner and disappears
behind the palace.
II
Interior. The banquet-hall of CIRCE’S palace. A long, low apartment,
clearly but not brilliantly illuminated by torch-wood burning upon
cressets in the rear, Right and Left. The walls and ceiling of the room
are of neutral tint, light shades, but nowhere white; the decorations, of
simple Grecian type. Two wide entrances at the rear afford glimpses of a
back corridor dimly lighted; between these doors a large spinning-wheel
of fantastic pattern stands near the wall. On the Right a curtained
opening leads to the boudoir of CIRCE; and another door is situated
further back on this side. On the Left, directly opposite the boudoir, is
an entrance from an alcove or passage-way communicating with the porch;
in front of it a dais or platform, raised one step higher than the floor
of the apartment. Near another door far back on the Left stands a large
sideboard or buffet showing the usual garniture. Between the boudoir and
the dais, thus centrally placed but a little forward, are two large,
low tables nearly square, standing end to end, but far enough apart to
allow free passage between them, and showing clearly the spinning-wheel
behind. Three tall armchairs or thrones stand, one at the end of the
table on the Left, in front of the dais; another at the opposite end of
the other table, by the entrance of the boudoir; the third at the left
hand of the second throne, behind the table. There are numerous other
small Greek chairs without backs. Each table is spread with a light brown
cloth. Upon the table at the Right are several pieces of plate and a low
spreading vase of flowers near its centre; a flagon and goblets upon the
other table. As the curtain rises the music ceases, but the humming of
the wheel is continued. CIRCE is seen seated upon the throne at the head
of the table by her boudoir. Her slender golden wand is carelessly thrown
upon the table before her. Her black robe she has pushed away from her
shoulders over the back of her chair; but she wears her coronal of pearls
confining massy black hair, with long, light, pearly veil depending from
the diadem behind. Her tunic is of canary-colored silk; she wears crimson
sandals, and a golden serpent bracelet encircles her left wrist.
PHILINNA, a blonde, of beauty comparable to that of CIRCE herself, but of
the opposite type, in dress and in all other respects forming a contrast
to the Enchantress, stands behind the throne at her mistress’ left hand.
The place of THERMIA, a nymph of elegant figure and winsome expression,
is behind the table on the Left, near the throne at its head by the dais.
MYRTO, who has dark hair like CIRCE, but is of small stature and
not marked by especial beauty, sits facing the Enchantress by the
spinning-wheel, which, as she swiftly turns it, gives forth the melodious
hum that fills the air when the curtain rises.
The predominant color of PHILINNA’S dress is mauve; of THERMIA’S, azure;
of MYRTO’S, dark green. Other nymphs are drest in light gauzy material,
never pure white. All wear Grecian costume.
_As CIRCE turns toward her with a slight gesture, MYRTO stops the wheel._
CIRCE
Hush, Myrto; prithee stay
Thy busy wheel awhile; I fain would listen
To the mere silence—if that be silence, when
Naught save the light-wing’d evening zephyr breathes
His soft sea-voices through the piny boughs
And the broad vine-leaf tinkles at the porch.
No footfalls patter now; our thirsty questioners,
After the sunset shadow falls, come not.
Truly ’twere vain, save by the day’s bright beam,
To seek my mansion on this bowery summit
Through tangled briery paths and copse-wood dim—
For the first time.
PHILINNA
Thou knowest well, dear lady,
No second coming, save in four-footed guise,
Thy hand vouchsafes them.
CIRCE
Ay, not twice the cup
For the same drinker need we pour.—And, Myrto,
Remembered’st thou to cull the herbs I named,
Wolf’s-bane and hemlock and the rest?
MYRTO
Yes, lady.
CIRCE
And stored and sorted all?
MYRTO
By the full moon
Each kind I pluck’d; then, crosswise laid, I dried them
On the black adder-stone what hour no cloud
The noonday welkin streak’d.
CIRCE
’Tis well. Right soon
I shall bruise more and brew their potions.
[_After a brief pause_] Ah!
Myrto; hast thou aught seen this season yet
Of _moly_ plant?
MYRTO
No sprig, since we dug forth
Those three and to their root put fire.
PHILINNA
O Circe,
What mortal can know moly? or, if found,
Might guess that straightening salutary force
Which its pale blossom suckles?
CIRCE
Little indeed
Know they or seem to reck, who find my door,
By the four winds or vague desire impell’d.
Not of the herbs alone, wherewith I work
Transforming magic, and of their antidotes
Is saving knowledge to human sense denied;
But the mere man in equal measure lacks
Perception of all that inner occult domain
Which on my mystic vision rises clear
And blends harmonious with material scenes.
Therefore, what mortals know I know more surely,
Crowning their wisdom with profounder lore.
How oft do they who come, while at this board
They swill and gloat, ere yet the damning cup
I proffer, boast large deeds and prate of what
They call _experience_—in the same breath imploring
Guidance, which I with gracious hand might lend,
Seem’d they but worthy. [_PHILINNA nods assent._]
THERMIA
Stands some one, Circe,
At the porch door.
CIRCE
Throw open; no mortal visitor
Descends so deftly on us.
[_The door at the Left is opened by THERMIA, showing a golden-gleaming
light in the passage-way behind it. Immediately MERCURY enters, standing
as he first speaks upon the dais. His winged serpent-twined wand is
brilliant with inlaid mother-of-pearl. Dewdrops glisten upon the wings
of his cap and sandals. The mutual demeanor of MERCURY and CIRCE is
friendly, but not familiar. Neither makes show of deference toward the
other. MERCURY does not remove his cap. He takes no notice whatever of
the nymphs._]
MERCURY
All-potent Circe,
Hail!
CIRCE
Hail to thee, sir messenger! Be welcome;
Tarry and taste our cheer.
[_MERCURY seats himself upon the throne at the head of the table near
which he stands. THERMIA takes his wand and lays it upon the table._]
CIRCE
The nectar, Thermia.
[_THERMIA serves him from the sideboard and remains standing in
attendance._]
Bring’st from the Olympian conclave, Mercury,
Tidings to us?
MERCURY
Nay, nay; I do but pause
On my mid-errand’s flight a restful moment
At thy fair island-dome. Weary sometime
Falls even the airy stride of winged feet,
When at a stern omnipotent behest
They spurn the mountain’s serried brow, plunge down,
Skimming innumerable waves, and ride
From land to land the brindled ocean’s back.
But, Mistress Circe, this enchanted isle,
Topp’d by thy mansion, doth like a stepping-stone
Betwixt the shores of dawn and vesper lie,
At the convergent centre of all streams.
What roving bark shall miss it?
CIRCE
Sooner or later
’Tis true each wanderer this way passes; nor,
Our gate once spied and hospitable song
Heard trilling, turns he back.
MERCURY
I am reminded,
Whereof I once made mention, again to speak.
Fail not to pour thy strongest draught, fair Circe,
When sage _Ulysses_ heeds the languorous strain.
CIRCE
So said’st thou; I recall it. And some potions
Do stronger flow an hundred-fold than others.
MERCURY
Even so one human counsel another o’er-tops
By infinite measure.—But ’tis time to speed
And set a finish on this world-spanning errand.
[_THERMIA hands MERCURY his wand as he rises from the throne and steps
upon the dais._]
Now for the star-strewn roadways of the sky,
By the dun cloud-edge, where fork’d lightnings fly.
Farewell!
CIRCE
Farewell, sir messenger! [_Exit MERCURY._]
PHILINNA
[_After a pause_] Dear lady Circe,
Wherefore for us at eve dost thou ne’er lift
Thy voice in sweetest song, like that whose spell
Binds the doom’d callers at the moaning porch?
So might we taste the charm and spare the bane.
CIRCE
O sit, Philinna, and mark you!
[_PHILINNA seats herself in the throne near CIRCE. At the same time
THERMIA takes her seat upon one of the chairs at the other table, resting
her left arm on the table._]
CIRCE
’Tis not at will those tuneful notes upwelling
Burst from this bosom’s prison, when once the joy
Of fierce enslaving mastery sets them free.
I see not his approach who draweth nigh,
Like the limed bird in cruel toils to stick,
And whom the poison’d chalice straight transforms
To brutal shape:—I do not see them come;
But by a sudden thrill inspired to sing,
With a strange consciousness of quicken’d power,
Then _know_ I, and need not look.—Hath e’er one song
Fail’d of response, Philinna?
THERMIA
Not one; O, never!
MYRTO
How could it otherwise befall?
CIRCE
There be
Others in whom by native hap are planted
Some powers of vulgar sorcery: whom it profits
On magic wheel to lash the skewer’d wryneck;
Who their unlovely droning measures vaunt
To burst the clammy serpent in the mead,
Or from her seat pull down the horned moon.
But to their sordid craft my arts compare
As sunbeams to a sputtering pitchy torch.
When _we_ the human prowler quell and tame,
We work illumination!
PHILINNA
Yet sometimes
They shine with princely mien. Even as Mercury
In face and stature were those two comely youths
Thou once didst change to wolves.
CIRCE
’Twas their true shape!
The godlike figure hath to mankind been lent,
Which they abuse to cloak an inner core
Of bestial motive. Therefore it is to scatter
Light over darkness, when my cunning drugs
Make the shell match the kernel. No longer then,
Once the true emblem on his visage stamp’d,
Doth the pretender with mock daring flourish:
Unmask’d, he slinks and cowers.—The most, indeed,
Are of mere swinish habit; and for them
The pointed snout suffices and rough hide.
But some—[_With mock seriousness_] Thou dream’st not, sweet Philinna,
How cruelly those same youths, but for my spell,
Had rent us both!
MYRTO
[_Gravely_] Ay, true; didst thou not mark,
Philinna, what hungry looks they bent upon
The lady Circe, even while they drank? ’Twas not
The fragrant wine-cup drew them, but o’er its rim
Her neck they scann’d and watch’d the hand and arm
That reach’d the potion. So had they gazed on thee,
If Circe sat not by.
PHILINNA
Ah, Myrto; how
Could I the right herb choose and guide the beaker?
Or wield the magic wand!
THERMIA
[_Holding up her hands_] O simple, simple!
CIRCE
[_Warmly_] Thy beauty and my love for thee, Philinna,
Are of a piece; both do transcend the limit
Of usual quality. For, without thee, I
Should seem to hover in a stale vacant world;
Whilst thou, arm’d with no wand or secret drug,
Unconscious and unskill’d, canst oft divert
The most admiring, ardent, rapt regards
Away from the famed Circe—deem’d forsooth
To win by her sheer woman’s charm not less
Than by shrewd arts. It is perchance the reason
Why thou art dear, because no studied guile
Can in thy breast find lodgement. Oft we crave
That in a friend which our own temper lacks;
And the two mingle to a more perfect being
Than either by itself.
[_Laying her left hand upon PHILINNA’S right arm_]
’Tis pure simplicity
Framed as a smiling goddess at my elbow.
MYRTO
[_Gravely_] Dear lady Circe, may the gods preserve her,
Shouldst thou in turn e’er fail at her right hand
To sit with guardian thoughts.
THERMIA
Nay, Myrto!
Stand we not all in like need of that shelter
And sweet assurement which no other hand
Than Circe’s can dispense? ’Tis the good spell
Her bright superior spirit weaves round us, lends
Fragrance and bloom to our sequester’d lives.
What, but for that enrichment, would import
Fair skies and shady bowers?—But these mock dangers
Are but the flounce and garnish of our pastime.
Your mighty men I find more vain than valiant.
Didst thou fear Mikkos, Myrto, in his former,
Native habiliment?
MYRTO
[_Laughing_] O Thermia, he was terrible!
THERMIA
And that sleek scrivener, who serves now as one
Of our gate leopards—was it a peril when he,
Before his lips touch’d the transforming potion,
Offer’d me marriage?
PHILINNA
But what _is_ marriage, Thermia?
THERMIA
It is as if a clever craftsman built
A cage round Circe and yourself, then lock’d
Its door upon you both and flung the key
Under the fountain.
PHILINNA
[_Springing from her chair and drawing back behind it_]
Holy Diana!
I should break out and fly like Circe’s peacock
Into the beech-tree by the spring.
CIRCE
[_Laughing_] O children, children!
How will ye all most learnedly discourse,
Where ye know least? There lurks indeed small peril
To your fair persons, but the danger hits
Your unsophisticated silly souls.
Some men there be, whose fervid, flattering words
Would fluster and bedazzle you, till all
This tranquil sweet companionship should vanish,
As the light puffy thistle-down dispell’d,
Leaving a weary lone unrest behind it.
It is my swift preventing magic catches
And tangles their approach. We are too quick
For them; nor shall they soon outspeed us.—Yet
My brother, the great magician, told me once,
That if a drug e’er fail’d me and work’d not
For any cause its proper due effects,
Then we stood liable to some counter-spell
Of similar assignment. And he cited
My cousin Medea’s strange unhappy story.
[_To PHILINNA, playfully_] So;
When the poor Circe faints, Philinna, thou
Wouldst fly off and desert her?
PHILINNA
O no! not
Without the cage.
CIRCE
[_Laughing_] No; I am sure
Whate’er befalls, Philinna will be faithful.
THERMIA
[_Seriously_] She will indeed, my lady!
CIRCE
Of faith and love there is no dearth among us,
Though scant occasion offer which might put
A true friend’s temper to the test. For here
The spirit of petty jangling sits aloof
And common pastime smooths the tripping hours.
Its spice is in the hazard. It were indeed
A dull domain on Circe’s isle, flow’d not
The petulant human throng up to our door.
For fail’d we to suppress them, we ourselves
Might share that wearisome slow life which men
Owe to their fleeting, vain, unsteady loves.
O verily they should thank us!
[_CIRCE leans back in her chair, playing with the wand that lies on the
table. Then straightening up and looking across the room she claps her
hands twice. Directly the lute-girl THRATTIS enters at the Left corner.
She stands leaning against the sideboard and strikes chords upon her
instrument as prelude._]
MYRTO
O Circe, may Mikkos dance to-night?
CIRCE
Yes, child.—Poor Mikkos! His dancing days were over
When first he sought us and became our patient.
Now they begin anew.
[_She signs to THRATTIS, who begins a dancing tune. Other music is heard
in accord with the lute. PHILINNA and THERMIA dance, not as partners,
but singly, with Grecian or Turkish movement, passing round alternately
between the tables and in front and behind them. CIRCE leans back and
looks on with evident pleasure, beating time informally with her wand.
Immediately when the dancing begins, MYRTO runs out at the Right centre
for_ Mikkos; _but at the same time_ Mikkos _darts in at the Left centre,
drops into MYRTO’S seat, and begins to turn her wheel. The ape wears a
handsome collar with about four feet of light brass chain hanging from
it. MYRTO follows laughing, seizes the chain, and pulling_ Mikkos _to his
feet the girl and the ape dance, confining themselves to the back part
of the room. MYRTO’S dancing is similar to that of the other two nymphs,
except that she does not display the same arm movements_. Mikkos _dances
only as an ordinary trained simian might succeed in doing. Next, GRAEA
the swine-maiden enters at the Right centre and joins in the performance.
Her dancing, which she confines to the corner of the room opposite
THRATTIS, consists in snaky, gyratory movements, stooping and with long
steps trailing her great whip slowly in circles upon the floor.—Presently
CIRCE, drawing her black robe over her shoulders, still holding the wand,
rises from her throne. The music ceases. THRATTIS_, Mikkos, _and GRAEA
disappear, and the three nymphs come to a standstill at about their usual
places in the room._]
CIRCE
[_To her nymphs_]
Thus merry our lives, through the whole endless round
Of blithe days and the placid restful nights
That top their radiance. How ye are blest, forsooth
Ye cannot know, because that bliss transcends
All ken and inquisition. It is some part
Of the vast natural world instill’d and moulded
In your fair forms divine, whereto small fleck
Of human taint hath fallen; but an ethereal
Kinship of cloud and fountain and wild wood
Thrills the translucent ichor in your veins.
O sweet immortal sisterhood!
THERMIA
A mighty willow guards the meadow’s brink,
Where daisies shine and finches pause to drink:
Each year its lissome branches droop anew,
And on the straightest, smoothest shoot I grew.
MYRTO
Deep in the forest shade black water ran:
Beneath its tide my babyhood began;
And while for strength these tiny knees did lack,
A bullfrog bore me on his bright green back.
PHILINNA
Down a sheer sunny cliff wild waters whirl
In tinted gleams of amethyst and pearl:
And where that dangling riband dots the sky,
From one soft gauzy filament sprang I.
[_The curtains of CIRCE’S bower are drawn away, revealing some part of
its interior and a nymph standing on either side. CIRCE moves slowly
backward to the bower entrance; and her three nymphs move backward toward
the several exits._]
CIRCE
[_To the audience_] There is a sleep that hath no need of dreams:
When of each waking hour the passage seems
A bird-flight under lovelier skies than those
Which dreamland fancy to the slumberer shows.
[_The music of CIRCE’S song is again heard, and the drop-curtain falls
while all are just disappearing. PHILINNA goes out at Right 2; THERMIA at
Left 2; MYRTO at Left centre._]
III
A camp by the seashore just before sunrise. The ground rises at the back
and Right, rough with shrubbery and rocks. A galley of antique build has
been drawn upon the sand crosswise at the Left and there are glimpses of
the sea on this side. The mast has been unstepped and a few long oars
lean against the side of the vessel. There are other signs of a recent
disembarcation. Articles of nautical and warlike use lie on the ground
or hang upon bushes and rocks; wine-jars, cups, plates, etc. have been
deposited. The forms of a numerous company of men are seen sleeping on
the ground, wrapped in their blankets, here and there near the ship.—In
the foreground at the Right centre a fire of small sticks is beginning
to burn under tripod and kettle. THERON, the cook, is seen seated on the
ground near the fire, washing strips of meat for roasting. From the low
branch of a tree near him hangs the well stripped carcass of a deer, the
hide and the head bearing large antlers in full view near by. ELPENOR,
the cook’s helper, is at work trying to make the fire burn.
THERON
Scratch together another stick or two of wood, youngster.
[_Enter GLAUCUS at Right with a jar of water which he sets down near
THERON._]
That will do for water, Glauc. Take a hand now and help the lad
blow the fire a bit.
GLAUCUS
So I will, though I be a trifle blown myself, tramping up and
down to that spring.
THERON
That’s where the commander pinked the deer yesterday, eh?
GLAUCUS
Ay, ay; the old man hasn’t forgotten how to let slip an arrow
since we became water-dogs, for certain.
THERON
’Twas a crack piece of venison he fetched in and no mistake!
There’s a strip or two left for breakfast; but I reckon we’ll
have to make a soup of the hide for dinner—that is if other
game doesn’t turn up. [_He lays pieces of meat spitted over the
coals._]
GLAUCUS
The soup’ll do them. They took solid meat enough aboard
yesterday to last for a week’s voyage.
ELPENOR
When I saw them eating, it made me think of father feeding the
hogs up in Cephallenia.
GLAUCUS
They’re grunting yet. Just hear the beggars snore! And we
turned in before sunset too.
THERON
The Pramnian’s responsible for that: we tapped four jars. It’s
the same as keeled over that beastly hulk of a Cyclops.
ELPENOR
The commander took a mighty round swig himself; I saw him.
GLAUCUS
Trust him for keeping his head level. Besides, he can carry
more of the rosy than any three of us.
THERON
Pass over those barley spats, boy—ah! you’ve got them too wet,
you monkey.—Say, Glauc, how would you like to see such a thing
as a woman again, eh? [_THERON grins and nudges GLAUCUS’ knee
with his elbow._]
GLAUCUS
Well, you’re right; it is a long time since.
ELPENOR
Wasn’t that a woman you saw at the last landing-place?—there
where they smashed all the ships we had but this one.
THERON
What!—the giant’s daughter? Bless you, boy, that was a waddling
mountain, not a woman!
GLAUCUS
You might throw your arms round her waist twice, Elpy, and
never touch the tips of your fingers.
THERON
By the powers, she _was_ a hogshead to tackle; ha, ha!
GLAUCUS
If there be female inhabitants of this prickly country, it’s to
be hoped they’re not built after that pattern. But everything
here wears horns, so far. [_He taps the antlers of the stag._]
THERON
Well, we’re nigh about ready. Set those plates round in just
a little order. Call ’em up, Elp! Take my knife here and
hammer on that shield hanging by the tree. The sun’ll be on us
shortly. One more jar of water, Glaucus. [_Exit GLAUCUS._]
ELPENOR
[_Pounding on the metallic shield_] Ding, dong! Cling, clang!
Breakfast! Get up! Get up! Breakfast! Ding, dong! Cling, clang!
[_The men rise one after another from their beds on the ground and adjust
their garments, which look stained and weather-worn. GLAUCUS re-enters
and pours water into several basins for the men to wash their hands. They
gradually find seats on the ground near the fire and begin to eat, the
cook and his assistant serving them informally. The conversation begins
while they are dressing and getting ready, before they sit._]
PHORBAS
[_Looking around him suspiciously_] I wonder on which side the
sun rises in this blessed country.
PHILEMON
On the east side, maybe; leastwise it ought to come up opposite
to where it went down yesterday.
PHORBAS
Well, who remembers where that was? Split me if I do!
GLAUCUS
Avast there! the sun’ll peep over in a jiffy—by the spring
yonder. [_He turns his thumb backward to the Right._]
PHORBAS
All the same we don’t any of us know where we are.
THERON
We’re supposed to be at the breakfast table now, lads. Fall to
if you’ve got any appetite left over from yesterday!
XENIAS
We’ve got more appetite left over than you have chops, cook.
THERON
Ay, every chop’s a sparerib this morning—except a few choice
cuts here for the commander and the mate. They’re done now.
[_He takes the meat from the fire into a platter._]
Here, young man; take ’em over to him round the other side of
the ship.
ELPENOR
[_As he goes out_] We’re going to have soup for dinner. [_He
disappears behind the vessel._]
PHILEMON
Look here, Theron; did you put the charcoal in these barley
cakes before baking or after?
GLAUCUS
Pooh, pooh! Never mind the grit, man; it’s an aid to digestion.
We’re lucky enough to have groats aboard, anyway.
PHORBAS
We’re lucky to be alive! By Apollo, how I shiver when I think
of that Æolian duffer and the cursed wind-bags he palmed off on
us!
XENIAS
’Twas worse than a hurricane on the wrong quarter when _they_
blew up—took us straight back to the old boy himself.
PHILEMON
He _was_ a windy humbug! You’d have thought, to hear him talk,
we’d be back home in Ithaca inside of twenty-four hours.
PHORBAS
And now we’re only _here_! Another cannibal island, I’ll bet my
pile! Ye gods! I wouldn’t go up ten rods from the shore for a
gold mine.
THERON
Well, the commander took a little walk yesterday and nobody ate
_him_ up. He didn’t make much of a report as to what he saw;
but I’ve a notion he’ll say something about it to-day.
GLAUCUS
Sh—here he comes now! Mind your taps, men!
[_Enter ULYSSES and EURYLOCHUS at the Left from behind the ship. The
men finishing their meal salute without rising and arrange themselves
comfortably and informally on the ground in a sort of circle looking
toward ULYSSES in the centre. ELPENOR re-enters behind the two and sits
down with the others. EURYLOCHUS also seats himself upon the ground at
the right hand of ULYSSES. In appearance the mate is distinguished from
the crew mainly by wearing fresher and less weather-beaten garments.
ULYSSES wears a helmet and carries his sword and baldric in his hand. He
throws the weapon upon the ground, and as he begins to speak takes off
his helmet, holding it swinging by its strap in his left hand while he
stands and speaks. The rays of the rising sun now strike over the bank
behind him._]
ULYSSES
Good morrow, men! How sped the night?
SEVERAL VOICES
O, hearty, hearty!
EURYLOCHUS
They had a bout to sleep on, you remember, sir.
ULYSSES
That was high festival—too rare a hap!
’Twas sipping of the rest ye needed sore;
But now there’s toil in prospect.
PHILEMON
We thought you might tell us, sir, what the prospect showed
when you stepped out yesterday and got the deer.
PHORBAS
We’re hoping to sail away from here directly.
ULYSSES
Of sail and oar appears an end not yet,
Brave comrades,—ye sad fortune-favor’d few,
Poor relic of that once gallant troop which sat
High on three-hundred thwarts; when each proud keel,
Cleaving a homeward furrow, swept gaily past
Familiar beacons; and from known crag and scaur
Triumphal friendly greetings echoed loud,
That drop like honey in victorious ears.
Not long their cadence linger’d; but ye know
What flouts of whirlwind and black sulphurous cloud,
Wreck-witness’d warrants of Neptunian ire,
Whelm’d some with death and the scant remnant usher’d
Into these strange, uncanny, nameless seas.
And now from wave to wave your weary arms
Drive the lone pinnace, this frail shell of hope,
With mingled dread and homesick yearning freighted.
[_As ULYSSES pauses, some of the men, all of whom are looking to him
intently, shake their heads or rock themselves to and fro, and faint
groans are heard._]
But cheer, brave shipmates; cheer!
Not boundless stretch these watery wastes, but still
Shines somewhere a vine-clad slope and pebbly cove,
The fair home-harbor pictured in your dreams.
[_The men give utterance to loud sighs and groans._]
Somewhere it sparkles yet; but whether a ray
Of yonder climbing sun illumed its borders
Ere he warm’d us, or by the western rim
Of darkling eve our cherish’d haven lies,
We know not. In ourselves, thus mazed and wilder’d
By circular driftings and strange gruesome sights,
There springs no source of judgment, whence to draw
Some pilotage and index of true course.
Yet on these wild inhospitable shores
Beings we have encounter’d—and not all
Of baleful or ungracious mood—who hold
Rare store of guiding knowledge.—Should we not
Press with glad feet even now our native soil,
If ye, unhappy men, had spared to loose
The contrary winds great Æolus did tie down
To assure our safety?
[_The men manifest great perturbation; some gesticulating and shaking
their heads; others rising to their knees and striking themselves.
Mutterings and faint outcries escape them._]
EURYLOCHUS
[_Timidly; rising to his feet_]
You failed to tell them, sir, what was in the bags.
ULYSSES
[_Sternly_] I fail’d first to remember
What slender stock of prudence or just restraint
Your wits preserve. So, while I slept, ye wrought
Mischief beyond repair. It was thy watch,
Eurylochus; dost recall it?
EURYLOCHUS
Yes, sir, it was my company on duty then.
ULYSSES
Draw off thy men; let them assemble apart.
[_At a sign from EURYLOCHUS men to the number of one-half the crew arise
and group themselves around him on the Right. The rest remain seated
nearer ULYSSES. EURYLOCHUS’ company includes GLAUCUS, THERON, ELPENOR,
and PHORBAS._]
ULYSSES
[_To all as before_] I repeat, then,
There dwell in these weird regions spirits—some few,
Mighty yet not malevolent, and endued
With sapient skill and far discernment. Nor
Save by experience of them may we hope
To win the instructions craved. Here yesterday
From the bare peak whereto I clomb, the view
Of a round isle lay open; and at the point
Where these upwinding brambly folds converge
I saw faint-coiling smoke-wreaths, the sure sign
Of dwellers.
[_All of the men are visibly disturbed and give increased and anxious
attention._]
It behooves us now to prove
Their case and disposition. But whether it suits
Rather that I conduct my party thither
For the grave query, or Eurylochus his,
Allotment shall decide.
[_Sensation among his hearers_]
Ofttimes the hand
Of Fortune guides a venturous essay fitter
Than human arbitration. Mark, then, Eurylochus,
My lot and thine.
[_EURYLOCHUS with assistance from others finds upon the beach two small
flat stones. These he scratches with his dagger, marking one with a V,
the other with an E._]
Shake now the sherds, good Glaucus.
[_As he speaks ULYSSES passes the helmet which he has hitherto held in
his left hand to GLAUCUS. The two lots are thrown into the helmet; and
GLAUCUS, standing in an open space and watched with intense expectation
by all present, shakes it violently with a circular movement until one
of the lots flies out and falls to the ground. The men strain their eyes
toward the stone as it is picked up by GLAUCUS._]
ULYSSES
Well, what decision?
GLAUCUS
[_Holding up the stone_] It’s Eurylochus, sir, his mark.
[_The announcement produces various effects upon the men. The party of
ULYSSES, seated upon the ground, strive not to show too plainly their
sense of relief; while the standing company of EURYLOCHUS are more openly
affected. PHORBAS in particular is in a highly nervous state, glancing
now toward the hill, now toward the water. A few other timid ones in the
same party demean themselves similarly._]
ULYSSES
[_To EURYLOCHUS_] Enough; make ready directly, and proceed with
reasonable haste.
[_The mate’s company move apart and make preparations, helped to some
extent by the others. There is lively motion in both groups. They gather
up things needful for an expedition, spears, staves, water-flasks, etc.
THERON, a portly figure, does not change his cook’s garb, but buckles on
a very broad belt with hanging straps, and whets his butcher’s cleaver
with a stone. Shortly they are ready to start._]
EURYLOCHUS
My mission is, sir——?
ULYSSES
To announce, if those thou haply find’st wear not
Sinister aspect, our good-will and greeting;
And the right winds for homeward voyage inquire.
EURYLOCHUS
Very well, sir.—Fall in, lads!
[_EURYLOCHUS’ followers draw closer to their leader, apart from the
others. All are serious. Individuals take leave of one another here and
there with hand-shaking, etc._]
ULYSSES
The sign show’d near the summit. Your ascent,
Thorny perchance and steep, will prove not long;
The questioning, easy.
XENIAS
[_Seriously_] Have an eye to Theron, Glaucus; let him not be
too forward with that meat-knife of his!
ELPENOR
[_Taking hold of a strap at THERON’S belt_] I shall hold him
back.
ULYSSES
Full oft a forward mood and hardy daring
Is of prime merit; circumstance will teach
How far to temper zeal with slow discretion.
Farewell!
EURYLOCHUS
Farewell, sir!—Forward, men!
SEVERAL VOICES ON BOTH SIDES
Farewell! adieu! luck, luck!
[_The mate’s company go out at the Right and upward. EURYLOCHUS himself
is abreast of the foremost on their left. The vanguard consists of
GLAUCUS, THERON (cleaver in hand), and ELPENOR (a fragile, attenuated
figure) behind the cook, holding at his belt. PHORBAS and other timid
ones bring up the rear. The drop-curtain falls as they move off while the
rest watch them and wave their hands to them._]
IV
The same as Scene I. The front of CIRCE’S palace. No music or other sound
is heard when the curtain rises. The fountain plays as before.—Enter at
the Right by the main gateway EURYLOCHUS and his party, the men grouped
similarly as at the close of the last scene, but in the reverse order.
In advance are PHORBAS and the other timid ones; they enter hurriedly,
casting glances of alarm behind them. The rest of the party immediately
follow; EURYLOCHUS, GLAUCUS, and THERON last. ELPENOR is in front of
THERON, who pushes him forward. The whole company quickly come to a
standstill in a single close group with considerable space between them
and the steps of the porch. They scan the building and its environs with
looks of wonder, especially fascinated by the fountain with its changing
hues.—EURYLOCHUS stands apart from the rest, his demeanor indicating
hesitation and perplexity. While the others are talking he walks slowly
to and fro, occasionally pausing and scanning suspiciously the various
features of the scene.
THERON
It’s a rum go so far! eh, Glaucus?
GLAUCUS
[_Shrugging his shoulders_] Rum’s the word! An outpost of tame
tigers! It beats anything we’ve walked into yet. Cyclops’ cave
wasn’t a circumstance.
THERON
I had a notion to crack the skull of that overgrown wolf-cub
when he landed his dirty paws on my shoulders. But he looked
sort o’ gentle like, and besides I thought the old chap who
owns the menagerie might take a miff—whoever _he_ is.
GLAUCUS
It’s some retired show-man or prize-fighter, I reckon.
THERON
He’s got a blue devil penned up in his fountain, sure! Just
look at that, old man; hock first, and blue vitriol at the tail
end of it! There’s bitters for you with a vengeance!—Blast
me, but I’m thirsty as an oyster, whacking a way up through
that pesky brush-wood! If there’s a chance to wet our whistles
inside the house it’ll be worth the dog-show twice over.
PHORBAS
I tell you it’ll pay to be cautious about the inside. Ugh! it
did make my flesh creep, crossing that cordon of wild-cats!
There’s no knowing what we’ll put our foot on if we go farther.
ELPENOR
I put my foot on a snake.
GLAUCUS
They put an architect to work here that _saw_ snakes, anyhow.
Take a look at those water-spouts, boys! [_Pointing to the
gargoyles_]
EURYLOCHUS
[_Approaching the group_] Well, men; what’s the next step? The
commander said go ahead if the people weren’t unfriendly. The
wild beasts out there were friendly enough, you might say; but
there’s an uncanny look to it all.
THERON
I vote to go ahead and knock up the owner. If he’s no worse
than his own whelps we can stand it;—especially if he stands
for the drinks.
GLAUCUS
There’s no two-legged craft within hail outside—nothing but
four-footed gentry out here.
EURYLOCHUS
We might mount the stairs, then, cautiously, and see how
things look under the doorway yonder. [_Shaking his head_] But
I fear enchantment.
[_As they approach the steps the hum of the spinning-wheel begins to be
heard. The men pause again, and look at each other a moment in silence.
EURYLOCHUS starts at the sound of the wheel, his features betraying
heightened anxiety._]
THERON
[_Slapping GLAUCUS on the shoulder_] God-a-mercy, it’s
womankind after all, Glauc! Come on! Ha, ha!
ELPENOR
Maybe it’s a mountain.
[_They all move toward the steps again. THERON, with ELPENOR holding to
his belt, and GLAUCUS are now in advance; EURYLOCHUS is at one side;
PHORBAS and others are behind. As the first man sets foot on the steps
the wheel stops humming and faint music strikes up as prelude to CIRCE’S
song. Immediately a clear soprano voice is heard behind the scenes
singing the air, the chorus of the song being performed by a quartette
of women’s voices. The hearers are sensibly affected, showing their
feelings by appropriate pantomime as they alternately pause and mount
slowly higher and higher upon the stairs. EURYLOCHUS alone exhibits
symptoms of horror and repulsion; the others seem to be charmed and lured
on by the song. All of them except the leader are gathered together upon
the porch close to the doorway when the last stanza is sung._]
THE SONG OF CIRCE
Ah, who!—ah, who!
Who would dwell longer there _bis_
In a rude world of care,
Of toil and care!
They only live, who hear
My song and taste my cheer—
Who my life share. _bis_
Ah, who!—ah, who
Would toil and tarry there!
(_Chorus_)
They only live, who hear
Our song and taste our cheer—
Who our life share. _bis_
Ah, who!—ah, who
Would toil and tarry there!
II
I know—I know
Where bubbling waters flow;
Where shadowy willows sway
And wood nymphs hide and play
In my round isle.
I know which clustering vine
Spirts out the sweetest wine.
Who would not while
Swift hours away!
Ah, who!—ah, who!
In my round bowery isle!
(_Chorus_)
We know—we know which vine
Spirts out the sweetest wine.
Who would not while
Swift hours away!
Ah, who!—ah, who!
In our round bowery isle!
III
I know—I know
What makes the wood-dove moan _bis_
In the dark coppice lone;
I know the cure.
When floats the owlet’s cry,
Her quavering lullaby,
Who!—ah, who!
While night winds sigh,
Who would not quaff the cure!
Ah, who!—ah, who!
(_Chorus_)
We know, we know the cure.
When floats the owlet’s cry,
Her quavering lullaby,
Who!—ah, who!
While night winds sigh,
Who would not quaff the cure!
Ah, who!—ah, who!
GLAUCUS
[_Loudly, in a musical tone_] Hola!—hola!
[_Directly upon the utterance of this call the low, shaded recess of
the doorway, which was dark before, grows bright with the same golden
radiance that had shone intermittently upon the fountain; and the throng
of visitors, excepting their leader, press swiftly forward and disappear
through the opening. Again immediately the light in the doorway changes
to blue, with electrical sparks. EURYLOCHUS, who is directing his gaze
toward the opening, shrinks back in alarm; and at the same moment the
spray of the fountain becomes blue and remains of that color. Descending
to a lower stair EURYLOCHUS peers under the doorway, listening intently.
No sound is heard. Then, his attention being drawn to the sombre hue
of the fountain, while he is looking away from the entrance, a large
serpent lets down its coils from the roof of the porch; and as the man
turns again toward the entrance he is confronted with its wide-open jaws,
forked tongue, and glittering eyes. As he retreats precipitately from
the stairs the serpent draws itself up out of sight. EURYLOCHUS stops
once more in the foreground to watch and listen for some sign of his
men within the palace; but as he turns toward the building, the head of
a wolf with glowing eyes is protruded from a clump of shrubbery. Upon
encountering this final apparition he flees in consternation from the
scene._]
V
The Seashore again. The curtain rising discovers the men left behind at
the camp sitting irregularly grouped near the fire-place. ULYSSES stands
apart from them by the ship, busied in inspecting his arms, the spear,
bow, and sword, which hang near or lean against the vessel. When he
unsheathes and sheathes the sword to examine it while his men are talking
it is seen to have a brightly polished, rather broad, but not heavy
blade. Most of the time he stands with face turned toward the water, his
back to the Right.
FIRST SAILOR
Look here, lads; we can’t wait till noon for a bite! The
commander ordered breakfast so rattling early this morning I’ve
got a brand-new appetite already.
XENIAS
Well, take a nibble on that pile of Theron’s charcoal cakes
left over. They need a good appetite to make ’em slip down.
FIRST SAILOR
Maybe the mate or Glaucus’ll fetch in another stag or a wild
goat on their way back.
SECOND SAILOR
A wild goose more like; I wonder how far they’ve got anyway.
PHILEMON
They ought to turn up before noon. The commander said they
might get up there and return in a couple of hours, as he
judged—that is, if they scratched gravel lively.
XENIAS
They’ve got Theron with ’em, remember; he can’t pass between
two trees when they grow _too_ near together.
FIRST SAILOR
No, but he can clear a path with his cleaver for two men—him
and Elpy spindle-shanks.
SECOND SAILOR
[_In undertone_] By the way, the commander’s pretty busy over
there with his own cutlery. I wonder what he expects next.
PHILEMON
He expects to be _ready_, whatever comes. You don’t catch him
napping. Besides, who wants a speck of rust on a hanger like
that? The war’s an old story now; and this salt air’s the
devil’s own invention to make a blade stick to the scabbard.
XENIAS
’Twas a pity he couldn’t draw it on that Cyclops hog. But if
we’d let the blood out of him it wouldn’t have let us out of
his pesky cave with a giant’s tomb-stone clapped up to the
door!—[_Whistling low as he looks up. XENIAS sits facing the
Right._] Whew!—What’s in the wind now?
[_All turn quickly toward the point indicated by the speaker, not
excepting ULYSSES, whose attention has been attracted by the whistle. At
the Right from above EURYLOCHUS enters slowly and hesitatingly, looking
pale and haggard, his clothing torn and disordered by the brambles.
Observing that all eyes are directed upon him he stops as if afraid to
approach the company. Most of the men rise to their feet and move toward
him._]
SEVERAL VOICES
Hi! hi!—what’s the good word?—News, news? Where’s Glauc?
[_EURYLOCHUS responds only with deprecatory gestures._]
ULYSSES
What? ho, Eurylochus! Hast tidings? Why alone?
What ails thee, mate? Speak out; tell us thy story!
[_With gestures of dismay EURYLOCHUS moves nearer to ULYSSES, but does
not speak. ULYSSES regards him with an expression of deep concern. The
other men gather more closely round the pair._]
XENIAS
Wake up, man! What’s in your eye? We’re here to help; cheer up!
PHILEMON
[_Patting EURYLOCHUS on the shoulder_] Out with it; out with
it!—Go ahead; palaver!
XENIAS
Open up, old fellow. _You’re_ not dead, anyway. We’re used to
funerals by this time. [_EURYLOCHUS remains in his despairing
attitude and is still unable to speak._]
ULYSSES
[_Severely; taking a step nearer to EURYLOCHUS, while the men fall back
slightly._]
Eurylochus, I enjoin you and command
To conquer this o’er-mastering mute despair.
Deliver straightway the account we crave
Of your commission and make known why thus
Alone and fraught with visible woe thou comest.—
Where are they? Speak!—
EURYLOCHUS
[_With effort; after further hesitation._]