The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06

             All those fair spots our happy youth once knew,             Linked to my memory with slender threads,             All these I sought once more, when first I came             Again to Corinth, and I cooled my breast             And dipped my burning lips in that bright spring             Of my lost childhood. Once again, methought,             I drove my chariot through the market-place,             Guiding my fiery steeds where'er I would,             Or, wrestling with some fellow of the crowd,             Gave blow for blow, while thou didst stand to watch,             Struck dumb with terror, filled with angry fears,             Hating, for my sake, all who raised a hand             Against me. Or again I seemed to be             Within the solemn temple, where we knelt             Together, there, and there alone, forgetful             Each of the other, our soft-moving lips             Up-sending to the gods from our two breasts             A single heart, made one by bonds of love.

CREUSA. Dost thou remember all these things so well?

JASON. They are the cup from which, in greedy draughts,             I drink the only comfort left me now.

MEDEA (who has gone silently up-stage and taken up again the discarded lyre).

Jason, I know a song!

JASON (not noticing her).             And then the tower!             Know'st thou that tower upon the sea-strand there,             Where by thy father thou didst stand and weep,             What time I climbed the Argo's side, to sail             On that far journey? For thy falling tears             I had no eyes, my heart but thirsted deep             For deeds of prowess. Lo, there came a breeze             That loosed the wimple bound about thy locks             And dropped it on the waves. Straightway I sprang             Into the sea, and caught it up, to keep             In memory of thee when far away.

CREUSA. Hast thou it still?

JASON. Nay, think how many years             Are gone since then, and with them this, thy token,             Blown far by some stray breeze.

MEDEA. I know a song!

JASON (ignoring her).

Then didst thou cry to me, "Farewell, my brother!"

CREUSA. And now my cry is, "Brother, welcome home!"

MEDEA (plaintively).

Jason, I know a song.

CREUSA. She knows a song             That thou wert wont to sing. I pray thee, listen,             And she will sing it thee.JASON. A song? Well, well!             Where was I, then?—From childhood I was wont             To dream and dream, and babble foolishly             Of things that were not and could never be.             That habit clung to me, and mocks me now.             For, as the youth lives ever in the future,             So the grown man looks alway to the past,             And, young or old, we know not how to live             Within the present. In my dreams I was             A mighty hero, girded for great deeds,             And had a loving wife, and gold, and much             Goodly possessions, and a peaceful home             Wherein slept babes of mine.

(To MEDEA.)

             What is it thou             Wouldst have with me?CREUSA. She asks to sing a song             That thou in youth wert wont to sing to us.

JASON (to MEDEA).

And thou hast learned it?

MEDEA. I have done my best.

JASON. Go to! Dost think to give me back my youth,             Or happiness to win again for me,             By singing me some paltry, childish tune?             Give o'er! We will not part, but live together;             That is our fate, it seems, as things have chanced;             But let me bear no word of foolish songs             Or suchlike nonsense!CREUSA. Let her sing, I pray.             She hath conned it o'er and o'er, to know it well,             Indeed she hath!

JASON. Well, sing it, sing it then!

CREUSA (_to _MEDEA).

So, pluck the second string. Thou know'st it still?

MEDEA (drawing her hand across her brow as if in pain).

I have forgotten!

JASON. Ay, said I not so?             She cannot sing it.—Other songs are hers,             Like that which, with her magic arts, she sang             Unto the dragon, that he fell asleep.             That was no pure, sweet strain, like this of thine!

CREUSA (_whispering in _MEDEA's ear).

"Ye gods above, ye mighty gods—."

MEDEA (repeating it after her).             "Ye gods above—"             O gods in heaven, O righteous, mighty gods!

[She lets the lyre fall to the ground, and clasps both hands before her eyes.]

CREUSA. She weeps! Canst be so stern and hard?

JASON (holding CREUSA back from MEDEA).                                  Thou art             A child, and canst not know us, what we are!             The hand she feels upon her is the gods',             That reacheth her e'en here, with bloody gripe!             Then strive not thou to balk the gods' just doom.             O, hadst thou seen her in the dragon's cave,             Seen how she leaped to meet that serpent grim,             Shot forth the poisonous arrows of her tongue,             And darted hate and death from blazing eyes,             Then were thy bosom steeled against her tears!—             Take thou the lyre, sing thou to me that song,             And exorcise the hateful demon here             That strangles, chokes me! Thou canst sing the song,             Mayhap, though she cannot.

CREUSA. Ay, that I will.

[She stoops to take up the lyre.]

MEDEA (gripping CREUSA's arm with one hand and holding her back, while with the other she herself picks up the lyre).

Let be!

CREUSA. Right gladly, if thou'lt play.

MEDEA. Not I!

JASON. Thou wilt not give it her?

MEDEA. No!

JASON. Nor to me?

MEDEA. No!

JASON (striding up to her and grasping at the lyre).

I will take it, then!

MEDEA (without moving from her place, but drawing the lyre away from him).

No!

JASON. Give it me!

MEDEA (crushing the lyre, so that it breaks with a loud, cracking sound).

Here, take it! Broken! Thy fair lyre is broken!

[She flings the pieces down in front of CREUSA.]

CREUSA (starting back in horror).

Dead!

MEDEA (looking swiftly about her as in a daze).

Dead? Who speaks of death? I am alive!

[She stands there violently agitated and staring dazedly before her. A trumpet-blast sounds without.]

JASON. Ha, what is that?

(To MEDEA.)

             Why standest silent there?             Thou'lt rue this moment, that I know full well!

[_Another trumpet-blast without. The KING appears suddenly at the door._]

JASON (hurrying to meet him).

What means that warlike trumpet-blast without?

KING. Unhappy man, canst ask?

JASON. I do, my lord!

KING. The stroke that I so feared is fall'n at last.—             Before my palace gates a herald stands,             Sent hither from the Amphictyons' holy seat,             Seeking for news of thee and of thy wife,             Crying to Heaven the doom of banishment             On both!

JASON. This, too?

KING. So is it—. Peace, he comes.

[The palace doors swing open and a HERALD enters, followed by two trumpeters and, at a little distance, by a numerous suite.]

HERALD. The blessing of the gods upon this house!

KING (solemnly).

Who art thou? On what errand art thou come?

HERALD. A herald of the gods am I, sent forth             From the ancient council of the Amphictyons             That speaks its judgments in that holy town             Of freedom, Delphi. And I follow close,             With cries of vengeance, on the guilty tracks             Of those false kinsmen of King Pelias,             Who ruled Iolcos, ere he fell in death.KING. Thou seek'st the guilty? Seek in his own house,             'Mongst his own children seek them—but not here!HERALD. Here have I found them. Here I'll speak my charge:             Thou art accursed, Jason, thou, and she,             Thy wife! With evil magic are ye charged,             Wherewith thine uncle darkly ye did slay.

JASON. A lie! Naught know I of mine uncle's death!

HERALD. Then ask thy wife, there; she will know, perchance.

JASON. Was 't she that slew him?

HERALD. Not with her own hand,             But by those magic arts ye know so well,             Which ye have brought here from that foreign land.             For, when the king fell sick—perchance e'en then             A victim, for the signs of his disease             Were strange and dreadful—to Medea then             His daughters came, and begged for healing balms             From her who knew so well to heal. And she             Gave swift consent, and followed them.JASON. Nay, hold!             She went not! I forbade it, and she stayed.HERALD. The first time, yes. But when, unknown to thee,             They came again, she companied them back,             Only demanding, if she healed the king,             The Golden Fleece in payment for her aid;             It was a hateful thing to her, she said;             And boded evil. And those foolish maids,             All joyful, promised. So she came with them             To the king's chamber, where he lay asleep.             Straightway she muttered strange and secret words             Above him, and his sleep grew ever deep             And deeper. Next, to let the bad blood out,             She bade them ope his veins. And even this             They did, whereat his panting breath grew still             And tranquil; then the gaping wounds were bound,             And those sad maids were glad to think him healed.             Forth went Medea then, as she hath said;             His daughters, too, departed, for he slept.             But, on a sudden, came a fearful cry             From out his chamber! Swift his daughters sped             To aid him, and—oh, ghastly, horrible!—             There on the pavement lay the aged king,             His body twisted in a hideous knot,             The cloths that bound his veins all torn away             From off his gaping wounds, whence, in a black             And sluggish stream, his blood came welling forth.             He lay beside the altar, where the Fleece             For long was wont to hang—and that was gone!             But, in that selfsame hour, thy wife was seen,             The golden gaud upon her shoulder flung,             Swift hasting through the night.MEDEA (dully, staring straight before her).             'Twas my reward!—             I shudder still, when'er I think upon             The old man's furious rage!HERALD. Now, that no longer             Such horrors bide here, poisoning this land             With their destructive breath, I here proclaim             The solemn doom of utter banishment             On Jason, the Thessalian, Aeson's son,             Spouse of a wicked witch-wife, and himself             An arrant villain; and I drive him forth             From out this land of Greece, wherein the gods             Are wont to walk with men; to exile hence,             To flight and wandering I drive him forth,             And with him, this, his wife, ay, and his babes,             The offspring of his marriage-bed. Henceforth             No rood of this, his fatherland, be his,             No share in her protection or her rights!

[He raises his hand and three times makes solemn proclamation, turning to different quarters.]

               Banished are Jason and Medea!               Medea and Jason are banished!               Banished are Jason and Medea!             And whoso harbors him, or gives him aid,             After three days and nights are come and gone,             Upon that man I here declare the doom             Of death, if he be burgher; if a king,             Or city-state, then war shall be proclaimed.             So runs the Amphictyons' reverend decree,             The which I here proclaim, as is most meet,             That each may know its terms, and so beware.—             The blessing of the gods upon this house!

[He turns to depart.]

JASON. Why stand ye there, ye walls, and crash not down             To save this king the pains of slaying me?KING. A moment yet, sir Herald. Hear this, too.

[He turns to JASON.]

             Think'st thou I rue the promise I have made?             If I could think thee guilty, ay, wert thou             My very son, I'd give thee up to these             That seek thee. But thou art not! Wherefore, I             Will give thee shelter. Stay thou here.—Who dares             To question Creon's friend, whose innocence             Stands pledged by mine own words? Who dares, I say,             To lay a hand upon my son to be?             Yea, Herald, on my son to be, the spouse             Of this my daughter! 'Twas my dearest wish             In happy days long past, when Fortune smiled;             Now, when he's compassed round by stormy waves             Of evil fortune, it shall come to pass.             Ay, she shall be thy wife, and thou shalt stay             Here, with thy father. And I will myself             Make answer for it to the Amphictyons.             Who now will cry him guilty, when the king             Hath sworn him free from blame, and given him             The hand of his own daughter?

(To the HERALD.)

             Take my words             To those that sent thee hither. Go in peace!             The blessing of the gods be on thy head!

[The HERALD goes.]

KING (turning to MEDEA).             This woman, whom the wilderness spewed up             To be a bane to thee and all good men,             Her that hath wrought the crimes men lay to thee,             Her do I banish forth from out this land             And all its borders. Death shall be her lot             And portion, if the morrow find her here!

(To MEDEA.)

             Depart from out my fathers' pious town,             And make the air thou poisonest pure again!MEDEA. Is that thy sentence? Falls it, then, on me,             And me alone? And yet I say to thee,             O king, I did it not!KING. Nay, thou hast done             Enough of evil since he saw thee first.             Away with thee from out my house and town!MEDEA (_turning to _JASON).             Say, must I go? So be it—but follow me!             We bear the blame together, let us bear             The punishment as well! Dost thou not know             The ancient proverb: "None shall die alone?"             One home for both, one body—and one death!             Long since, when Death stared grimly in our eyes,             We sware that oath. Now keep it! Follow me!JASON. Nay, touch me not! Begone from me, thou curse             Of all my days, who hast robbed me of my life             And happiness, from whom, when first mine eyes             Met thine, I shrank and shuddered, though I thought             Those fearful struggles in my very soul             Were but the signs of rash and foolish love.             Hence, to that wilderness that cradled thee!             Back to that bloody folk whose child thou art             In very thought and deed! But, ere thou go,             Give back to me what thou hast stol'n away,             Thou wanton! Give Prince Jason back to me!MEDEA. Is't Jason thou desirest? Take him, then!             But who shall give Medea back to me?             Was't I that in thy homeland sought thee out?             Was't I that lured thee from thy father's house?             Was't I that forced, ay, forced my love on thee?             Was't I that wrenched thee from thy fatherland,             Made thee the butt of strangers' haughty scorn,             Or dragged thee into wantonness and crime?             Thou nam'st me Wanton?—Woe is me! I am!             Yet—how have I been wanton, and for whom?             Let these pursue me with their venomous hate,             Ay, drive me forth and slay me! 'Tis their right,             Because I am in truth a dreadful thing             And hateful unto them, and to myself             A deep abyss of evil, terrible!             Let all the world heap curses on my head,             Save only thee alone! Nay, thou shalt not!             'Twas thou inspiredst all these horrid deeds,             Yea, thou alone. Dost thou not call to mind             How I did clasp my hands about thy knees             That day thou bad'st me steal the Golden Fleece?             And, though I sooner far had slain myself,             Yet thou, with chilly scorn, commandedst me             To take it. Dost remember how I held             My brother in my bosom, faint to death             From that fierce stroke of thine that laid him low,             Until he tore him from his sister's arms             To 'scape thy frenzied vengeance, and leaped swift             Into the sea, to find a kinder death             Beneath its waves? Dost thou remember?—Nay,             Come here to me, and shrink not so away             To shelter thee behind that maiden there!

JASON (coming forward).

I hate thee,—but I fear thee not!

MEDEA. Then come!

[She addresses him earnestly in low tones.]

             Dost thou remember—Nay, look not on me             So haughtily!—how, on that very day             Before thine uncle died, his daughters went             So sorrowful and hopeless forth from me,             Because I sent them back at thy behest,             And would not aid them? Then thou cam'st, alone,             Unto my chamber, looking in mine eyes             So earnestly, as though some purpose grim,             Deep hidden in thy heart, would search my soul             To find its like therein? And how thou saidst             That they were come to me for healing balms             To cure their old, sick father? 'Twas thy wish             That I should brew a cool, refreshing draught             To cure him of his ills forevermore—             And thee as well! Hast thou forgotten that?             Nay, look at me, eye straight to eye, if thou             Dost dare!JASON. Thou demon! Why these frantic words,             This rage against me? Why recall to life             These shadows of my dreams and make them real,             Why hold a mirror up to me wherein             Naught but thine own vile thoughts do show, and say             'Tis I that look therefrom? Why call my thoughts             From out the past to charge me with thy crimes?             Naught know I of thy plans and plottings, naught!             From the beginning I have hated thee,             I've cursed the day when first I saw thy face;             'Tis pity only held me at thy side!             But now I cast thee off forevermore             With bitter curses, e'en as all the world             Doth curse thee!

MEDEA (throwing herself at his feet with a cry of agony).

No! My love, my husband! No!

JASON (roughly).

Begone!

MEDEA. That day my old, gray father cursed             My name, thou gay'st thy promise, nevermore             To leave me, nevermore! Now keep thy word!JASON. Thine own rash deeds have made that promise naught,             And here I give thee to thy father's curse.

MEDEA. I hate thee!—Come! Come, O my husband!

JASON. Back!

MEDEA. Come to my loving arms! 'Twas once thy wish!

JASON. Back! See, I draw my sword. I'll strike thee dead,             Unless thou yield, and go!

MEDEA (approaching him fearlessly).

Then strike me, strike!

CREUSA (to JASON).

Hold! Let her go in peace, and harm her not!

MEDEA. Ha! Thou here, too, thou snow-white, silvery snake?             Oh, hiss no more, nor shoot thy forked tongue             With honied words upon it! Thou hast got             What thou didst wish—a husband at the last!             For this, then, didst thou show thyself so soft             And smooth-caressing, for this only wind             Thy snaky coils so close about my neck?             Oh, if I had a dagger, I would smite             Thee, and thy father, that so righteous king!             For this, then, hast thou sung those winsome songs,             Taught me to play the lyre, and tricked me out             In these rich garments?

[She suddenly rends her mantle in twain.]

             Off with you! Away             With the vile gifts of that accursed jade!

[_She turns to _JASON.]

             See! As I tear this mantle here in twain,             Pressing one part upon my throbbing breast,             And cast the other from me at thy feet,             So do I rend my love, the common tie             That bound us each to each. What follows now             I cast on thee, thou miscreant, who hast spurned             The holy claims of an unhappy wife!—             Give me my children now, and let me go!

KING. The children stay with us.

MEDEA. They may not go             With their own mother?

KING. With a wanton, no!

MEDEA (to JASON).

Is it thy will, too?

JASON. Ay!

MEDEA (hastening to the door).             Come forth, my babes!             Your mother calls you!

KING. Back!

MEDEA. 'Tis, then, thy will             That I go forth alone?—'Tis well, so be it!             I say but this, O king: Before the gray             Of evening darken, give me back my babes!             Enough for now!

(Turning to CREUSA.)

             But thou, who standest there             In glistering raiment, cloaking thy delight,             In thy false purity disdaining me,             I tell thee, thou wilt wring those soft, white hands             In agony, and envy me my lot,             Hard though it seemeth now!

JASON. How dar'st thou?

KING. Hence!

MEDEA. I go, but I will come again, to take             What is mine own, and bring what ye deserve.KING. Ha! Wouldst thou threaten us before our face?             If words will not suffice—

(To his attendants.)

             Then teach ye her             How she should bear herself before a king!MEDEA. Stand back! Who dares to block Medea's path?             Mark well, O king, this hour when I depart.             Trust me, thou never saw'st a blacker one!             Make way! I go,—and take with me revenge!

[She goes out.]

KING. Our punishment, at least, will follow thee!

(To CREUSA.)

Nay, tremble not. We'll keep thee safe from her!CREUSA. I wonder only, whether what we do             Be right? If so, no power can work us harm!(The curtain falls.)

ACT III

The outer court of CREON'S palace. In the background the entrance to the royal apartments; on the right at the side a colonnade leading to MEDEA's apartments.

MEDEA _is standing in the foreground, behind her at a distance _GORA is seen speaking to a servant of the king.

GORA. Say to the king:             Medea takes no message from a slave.             Hath he aught to say to her,             He must e'en come himself.             Perchance she'll deign to hear him.

[The slave departs.]

(GORA _comes forward and addresses _MEDEA.)

             They think that thou wilt go,             Taming thy hate, forgetting thy revenge.             The fools!             Or wilt thou go? Wilt thou?             I could almost believe thou wilt.             For thou no longer art the proud Medea,             The royal seed of Colchis' mighty king,             The wise and skilful daughter of a wise             And skilful mother.             Else hadst thou not been patient, borne their gibes             So long, even until now!MEDEA. Ye gods! O hear her! Borne! Been patient!             So long, even until now!GORA. I counseled thee to yield, to soften,             When thou didst seek to tarry yet awhile;             But thou wert blind, ensnared;             The heavy stroke had not yet fallen,             Which I foresaw, whereof I warned thee first.             But, now that it is fall'n, I bid thee stay!             They shall not laugh to scorn this Colchian wife,             Heap insult on the blood of our proud kings!             Let them give back thy babes,             The offshoots of that royal oak, now felled,             Or perish, fall themselves,             In darkness and in night!             Is all prepared for flight?             Or hast thou other plans?MEDEA. First I will have my children. For the rest,             My way will be made plain.

GORA. Then thou wilt flee?