Part 1
CIRCE
_A Dramatic Fantasy_
_by_ ISAAC FLAGG
With a Frontispiece by Bernard Maybeck
Copyright 1915 By Isaac Flagg
Acting Rights Reserved
_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
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.
CIRCE
_A Dramatic Fantasy_
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._
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