Chapter 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._]