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

MEDEA. I know not, yet.

GORA. Then they will laugh at thee!

MEDEA. Laugh at me? No!

GORA. What is thy purpose, then?

MEDEA. I have no heart to plan or think at all.             Over the silent abyss             Let dark night brood!

GORA. If thou wouldst flee, then whither?

MEDEA (sorrowfully).

Whither? Ah, whither?

GORA. Here in this stranger-land             There is no place for us. They hate thee sore,             These Greeks, and they will slay thee!MEDEA. Slay me? Me?             Nay, it is I will slay them!GORA. And at home,             There in far Colchis, danger waits us, too!

MEDEA. O Colchis, Colchis! O my fatherland!

GORA. Thou hast heard the tale, how thy father died             When thou wentest forth, and didst leave thy home,             And thy brother fell? He died, says the tale,             But methinks 'twas not so? Nay, he gripped his grief,             Sharper far than a sword, and, raging 'gainst Fate,             'Gainst himself, fell on death!MEDEA. Dost thou, too, join my foes?             Wilt thou slay me?GORA. Nay, hark! I warned thee. I said:             "Flee these strangers, new-come; most of all flee this man,             Their leader smooth-tongued, the dissembler, the traitor!"MEDEA. "Smooth-tongued, the dissembler, the traitor"             —were these thy words?

GORA. Even these.

MEDEA. And I would not believe?

GORA. Thou wouldst not; but into the deadly net             Didst haste, that now closes over thine head.MEDEA. "A smooth-tongued traitor!" Yea, that is the word!             Hadst thou said but that, I had known in time;             But thou namedst him foe to us, hateful, and dread,             While friendly he seemed and fair, and I hated him not.

GORA. Thou lovest him, then?

MEDEA. I? Love?             I hate and shudder at him             As at falsehood, treachery,             Black horrors—as at myself!GORA. Then punish him, strike him low!             Avenge thy brother, thy sire,             Our fatherland and our gods,             Our shame-yea, mine, and thine!MEDEA. First I will have my babes;             All else is hidden in night.             What think'st thou of this?—When he comes             Treading proud to his bridal with her,             That maid whom I hate,             If, from the roof of the palace above him,             Medea crash down at his feet and lie there,             A ghastly corpse?

GORA. 'Twere a sweet revenge!

MEDEA. Or if, at the bridal-chamber's door,             I lay her dead in her blood,             Beside her the children—Jason's children—dead?

GORA. But thyself such revenge would hurt, and not him.

MEDEA. Ah, I would that he loved me still,             That I might slay myself, and make him groan!             But what of that maid, so false, so pure?

GORA. Ha! There thou strikest nearer to the mark!

MEDEA. Peace, peace! Back, whence ye came, ye evil thoughts!             Back into silence, into darkest night!

[She covers her face with her veil.]

GORA. Those heroes all, who made with him             The wanton Argo-voyage hence,             The gods above have recompensed             With just requital, swift revenge.             Death and disgrace have seized them all             Save one—how long shall he go free?             Each day I listen greedily,             And joy to hear how they have died,             How fell these glorious sons of Greece,             The robber-band that fought their way             Back from far Colchis. Thracian maids             Rent limb from limb sweet Orpheus' frame;             And Hylas found a watery grave;             Pirithoüs and Theseus pierced             Even to Hades' darksome realm             To rob that mighty lord of shades             Of his radiant spouse, Persephone;             But then he seized, and holds them there             For aye in chains and endless night.MEDEA (swiftly snatching her veil from before her face).             Because they came to steal his wife?             Good! Good! 'Twas Jason's crime, nay, less!GORA. Great Heracles forsook his wife,             For he was snared by other charms,             And in revenge she sent to him             A linen tunic, which he took             And clad himself therewith—and sank             To earth in hideous agonies;             For she had smeared it secretly             With poison and swift death. He sank             To earth, and Oeta's wooded heights             Were witness how he died in flames!MEDEA. She wove it, then, that tunic dire             That slew him?

GORA. Ay, herself.

MEDEA. Herself!

GORA. Althea 'twas—his mother—smote             The mighty Meleager down             Who slew the Calydonian boar;             The mother slew her child.MEDEA. Was she             Forsaken by her husband, too?

GORA. Nay, he had slain her brother.

MEDEA. Who?             The husband

GORA. Nay, her son, I mean.

MEDEA. And when the deed was done, she died?

GORA. She liveth yet.

MEDEA. To do a deed             Like that—and live! Oh, horrible!             Thus much do I know, thus much I see clear             Not unavenged shall I suffer wrong;             What that vengeance shall be, I know not,—would not know.             Whatso'er I can do, he deserves,—ay, the worst!             But—mankind are so weak,             So fain to grant time for the sinner to feel remorse!GORA. Remorse? Ask thy lord if he rue his deed!             For, see! He draws nigh with hasty steps.MEDEA. And with him the king, my bitter foe,             Whose counsel hath led my lord astray.             Him must I flee, for I cannot tame             My hatred.

[She goes swiftly toward the palace.]

             But if lord Jason wish             To speak with me, then bid him come in,             To my side in the innermost chambers—there             I would parley with him, not here             By the side of the man who is my foe.             They come. Away!

[She disappears into the palace.]

GORA. Lo, she is gone!             And I am left to deal with the man             Who is killing my child, who hath brought it to pass             That I lay my head on a foreign soil,             And must hide my tears of bitter woe,             Lest I see a smile on the lips of these strangers here.

The KING _and _JASON enter.

KING. Why hath thy mistress fled? 'Twill serve her not

GORA. Fled? Nay, she went, because she hates thy face

KING. Summon her forth!

GORA. She will not come.

KING. She shall!

GORA. Then go thou in thyself and call her forth,             If thou dost dare.KING (angrily).             Where am I, then, and who,             That this mad woman dares to spite me thus?             The servant mirrors forth the mistress' soul—             Servant and mistress mirror forth that land             Of darkness that begat them! Once again             I tell thee, call her forth!GORA (pointing to Jason).             There stands the man             That she would speak with. Let him go within—             If he hath courage for it.JASON. Get thee gone,             Old witch, whom I have hated from the first!             Tell her, who is so like thee, she must come.GORA. Ah, if she were like me, thou wouldst not speak             In such imperious wise! I promise thee             That she shall know of it, and to thy dole!

JASON. I would have speech with her.

GORA. Go in!

JASON. Not I!             'Tis she that shall come forth. Go thou within             And tell her so!GORA. Well, well, I go, if but             To rid me of the sight of you, my lords;             Ay, and I'll bear your summons, but I know             Full well she will not come, for she is weak             And feels her sickness all too grievously.

[She goes into the palace.]

KING. Not one day longer will I suffer her             To stay in Corinth. This old dame but now             Gave utterance to the dark and fell designs             On which yon woman secretly doth brood.             Methinks her presence is a constant threat.             Thy doubts, I hope, are laid to rest at last?JASON. Fulfil, O King, thy sentence on my wife!             She can no longer tarry where I am,             So, let her go; the sentence is not harsh.             Forsooth, though I am less to blame than she,             My lot is bitt'rer, harder far than hers.             She but returns to that grim wilderness             Where she was born, and, like a restive colt             From whom the galling yoke is just removed,             Will rush to freedom, and become once more             Untamed and stubborn.             But my place is here;             Here must I sit and while away the days             In meek inaction, burdened with the scorn             And scoffing of mankind, mine only task             Dully to muse upon my vanished past.KING. Thou wilt be great and famous yet again,             Believe me. Like the bow which, once set free             From the fierce strain, doth speed the arrow swift             And straight unto its mark, whenso the hand             Is loosed that bent it, so wilt thou spring back             And be thyself again, once she is gone.JASON. Naught feel I in my breast to feed such hopes!             Lost is my name, my fame; I am no more             Than Jason's shadow, not that prince himself.KING. The world, my son, is not so harsh as thou:             An older man's misstep is sin and crime;             The youth's, a misstep only, which he may             Retrace, and mend his error. All thy deeds             In Colchis, when thou went a hot-head boy,             Will be forgot, if thou wilt show thyself             Henceforth a man.JASON. O, might I trust thy words,             I could be happy once again!KING. Let her             But leave thy side, and thou wilt say I'm right.             Before the Amphictyons' judgment-seat I'll go             And speak for thee, defend thy righteous cause,             And prove that it was she alone, Medea,             Who did those horrid deeds wherewith thou'rt charged,             Prove her the wanton, her the darksome witch.             Lifted shall be the doom of banishment             From off thy brow. If not, then thou shalt rise             In all thy stubborn strength, and to the breeze             Unfurl the glorious banner of pure gold             Which thou didst bring from earth's most distant land,             And, like a rushing torrent, all the youth             Of Greece will stream to serve thee once again             And rally 'round thy standard to oppose             All foes that come, rally 'round thee, now purged             Of all suspicion, starting life anew,             The glorious hope of Greece, and of the Fleece             The mighty hero!—Thou hast got it still?

JASON. The Fleece?

KING. Ay.

JASON. Nay, not I.

KING. And yet thy wife             Bore it away from old King Pelias' house.

JASON. Then she must have it still.

KING. If so, then she             Shall straightway yield it up, perforce. It is             The pledge and symbol of thy power to come.             Ay, thou shalt yet be strong and great again,             Thou only son of my old friend! A king             Am I, and have both wealth and power, the which             With mine own daughter's spouse I'll gladly share.JASON. And I will go to claim the heritage             My fathers left me, of that false man's son             That keeps it from me. For I, too, am rich,             Could I but have my due.KING. Peace! Look, she comes             Who still doth vex us. But our task is brief.

MEDEA comes out of the palace, attended by GORA.

MEDEA. What wouldst thou with me?

KING. I did send thee late             Some slaves to speak my will, whom thou didst drive             With harsh words forth, and didst demand to hear             From mine own lips whate'er I had to say,             What my commands and what thou hadst to do.

MEDEA. Say on!

KING. Naught strange or new have I to tell.             I would but speak once more the doom I set             Upon thy head, and add thereto that thou             Must forth today.

MEDEA. And why today?

KING. The threats             That thou halt uttered 'gainst my daughter's life—             For those against mine own I do not care:             The savage moods that thou of late hast shown,             All these do warn me how thy presence here             Bodes ill. Wherefore, today thou must begone!

MEDEA. Give me my babes, and I will go—perhaps!

KING. Nay, no "Perhaps!" Thou goest! But the babes             Stay here!MEDEA. How? Mine own babes? But I forget             To whom I speak. Let me have speech with him,             My husband, standing there.

KING. Nay, hear her not!

MEDEA (_to _JASON).

I pray thee, let me speak with thee!

JASON. Well, well,             So be it, then, that thou may'st see I have             No fear of any words of thine to me.

(To the KING.)

Leave us, my lord! I'll hear what she would say.KING. I go, but I am fearful. She is sly             And cunning! [He departs.]MEDEA. So, he's gone! No stranger now             Is here to vex us, none to come between             Husband and wife, and, what our hearts do feel,             That we can speak out clear.—Say first, my lord,             What are thy plans, thy wishes?

JASON. Thou dost know.

MEDEA. I guess thy will, but all thy secret thoughts             I know not.JASON. Be contented with the first,             For they are what decide.

MEDEA. Then I must go?

JASON. Go!

MEDEA. And today?

JASON. Today!

MEDEA. And thou canst stand             So calm before me and speak such a word,             Nor drop thine eyes for shame, nor even blush?

JASON. I must needs blush, if I should say aught else!

MEDEA. Ha! Good! Well done! Speak ever words like these             When thou wouldst clear thyself in others' eyes,             But leave such idle feigning when thou speak'st             With me!JASON. Dost call my dread of horrid deeds             Which thou hast done, a sham, and idle, too?             Thou art condemned by men; the very gods             Have damned thee! And I give thee up to them             And to their judgment! 'Tis a fate, in sooth,             Thou richly hast deserved!MEDEA. Who is this man,             This pious, virtuous man with whom I speak?             Is it not Jason? Strives he to seem mild?             O, mild and gentle one, didst thou not come             To Colchis' strand, and win in bloody fight             The daughter of its king? O, gentle, mild,             Didst thou not slay my brother, was it not             At thine own hands mine aged father fell,             Thou gentle, pious man? And now thou wouldst             Desert the wife whom thou didst steal away!             Mild? No, say rather hateful, monstrous man!JASON. Such wild abuse I will not stay to hear.             Thou knowest now what thou must do. Farewell!MEDEA. Nay, nay, I know not! Stay until I learn!             Stay, and I will be quiet even as thou.—             So, I am banished, then? But what of thee?             Methinks the Herald's sentence named thee, too.JASON. When it is known that I am innocent             Of all these horrid deeds, and had no hand             In murdering mine uncle, then the ban             Will be removed from me.MEDEA. And thou wilt live             Peaceful and happy, for long years to come?JASON. I shall live quietly, as doth become             Unhappy men like me.

MEDEA. And what of me?

JASON. Thou dost but reap the harvest thine own hands             Have sown.

MEDEA. My hands? Hadst thou no part therein?

JASON. Nay, none.

MEDEA. Didst never pray thine uncle's death             Might speedily be compassed?JASON. No command             At least I gave.MEDEA. Ne'er sought to learn if I             Had heart and courage for the deed?JASON. Thou know'st             How, in the first mad burst of rage and hate,             A man speaks many hot, impetuous threats             Which calm reflection never would fulfil.MEDEA. Once thou didst blame thyself for that mad deed;             Now thou hast found a victim who can bear             The guilt in place of thee!JASON. 'Tis not the thought             Of such a deed that merits punishment;             It is the deed itself.

MEDEA (quickly).

I did it not!

JASON. Who, then, is guilty?

MEDEA. Not myself, at least!             Listen, my husband, and be thou the first             To do me justice.             As I stood at the chamber door, to enter             And steal away the Fleece,             The king lay there on his couch;             Sudden I heard a cry! I turned,             And lo! I saw the aged king             Leap from his couch with frightful shrieks,             Twisting and writhing; and he cried,             "Com'st thou, O brother, to take revenge,             Revenge on me? Ha! Thou shalt die             Again, and yet again!" And straight             He sprang at me, to grip me fast,             For in my hands I held the Fleece.             I shook with fear, and cried aloud             For help to those dark gods I know;             The Fleece before me like a shield             I held. His face was twisted swift             To maniac grins, and leered at me!             Then, with a shriek, he madly tore             At the clothes that bound his aged veins;             They rent; the blood gushed forth in streams,             And, even as I looked, aghast             And full of horror, there he lay,             The king, at my very feet, all bathed             In his own blood-lay cold and dead!JASON. And thou canst stand and tell me such a tale,             Thou hateful witchwife? Get thee gone from me!             Away! I shudder at thee! Would that I             Had ne'er beheld thy face!MEDEA. Thou knewest well             That I was skilled in witchcraft, from that day             When first thou saw'st me at my magic arts,             And still didst yearn and long to call me thine!JASON. I was a youth then, and an arrant fool!             What boys are pleased with, men oft cast away.MEDEA. O, say no word against the golden days             Of youth, when heads are hot, but hearts are pure!             O, if thou wert but now what once thou wast,             Then were I happier far! Come back with me             Only a little step to that fair time             When, in our fresh, green youth, we strayed together             By Phasis' flowery marge. How frank and clear             Thy heart was then, and mine how closely sealed             And sad! But thou with thy soft, gentle light             Didst pierce my darkness, drive away the clouds,             And make me bright and happy. Thine I was,             And thou wert mine; O, Jason, is it then             Vanished forever, that far, happy time?             Or hath the bitter struggle for a hearth             And home, for name and fame, forever killed             The blooms of fairest promise on the tree             Of thy green youth? Oh, compassed though I be             With woe and heavy sorrows all about,             Yet I think often on that springtime sweet             Whence soft and balmy breezes o'er the years             Are wafted to me! If Medea then             Seemed fair to thee and lovely, how today             Can she be dread and hateful? What I was             Thou knewest, and didst seek me none the less.             Thou took'st me as I was; O, keep me, as I am!JASON. Thou hast forgot the dreadful deeds that since             Have come to pass.MEDEA. Ay, dread they are, in sooth,             And I confess it! 'Gainst mine aged sire             I sinned most deeply, 'gainst my brother, too,             And none condemns me more than I myself.             I'll welcome punishment, and I'll repent             In joy and gladness; only thou shalt not             Pronounce the doom upon me, nay, not thou!             For all my deeds were done for love of thee.—             Come, let us flee together, once again             Made one in heart and soul! Some distant land             Will take us to its bosom.JASON. What land, then?             And whither should we flee?

MEDEA. Whither!

JASON. Thou'rt mad,             And dost revile me, that I do not choose             To share thy raving! No! Our life together             Is done! The gods have cursed our union long,             As one with deeds of cruelty begun,             That since hath waged and found its nourishment             In horrid crimes. E'en granting thou didst not             Thyself slay Pelias, who was there to see?             Or who would trust thy tale?

MEDEA. Thou!

JASON. Even then,             What can I do, how clear thee?—It were vain!             Come, let us yield to Fate, not stubbornly             Defy it! Let us each repentance seek,             And suffer our just doom, thou fleeing forth             Because thou may'st not stay, I tarrying here             When I would flee.MEDEA. Methinks thou dost not choose             The harder lot!JASON. Is it so easy, then,             To live, a stranger, in a stranger's house,             Subsisting on a stranger's pitying gifts?MEDEA. Nay, if it seem so hard, why dost not choose             To fly with me?

JASON. But whither? Ay, and how?

MEDEA. There was a time thou hadst not shown thyself             So over-prudent, when thou camest first             To Colchis from the city of thy sires,             Seeking the glitter of an empty fame             In distant lands.JASON. I am not what I was;             Broken my strength, the courage in my breast             A dead thing. And 'tis thou I have to thank             For such misfortune! Bitter memories             Of days long past lie like a weight of lead             Upon my anxious soul; I cannot raise             Mine eyes for heaviness of heart. And, more,             The boy of those far days is grown a man,             No longer, like a wanton, sportive child,             Gambols amid bright flow'rs, but reaches out             For ripened fruit, for what is real and sure.             Babes I have got, but have no place where they             May lay their heads; my task it is to make             An heritage for these. Shall Jason's stock             Be but a withered weed beside the road,             By all men spurned and trampled? If thou e'er             Hast truly loved me, if I e'er was dear             To thee, oh, give me proof thereof, restore             Myself to me again, and yield a grave             To me in this, my homeland!MEDEA. And in this             Same homeland a new marriage-bed, forsooth I             Am I not right?

JASON. What idle talk is this?

MEDEA. Have I not heard how Creon named thee son,             And husband of his daughter? She it is,             Creusa, that doth charm thee, hold thee fast             In Corinth! 'Tis for her that thou wouldst stay!             Confess, I have thee there!JASON. Thou hast me not,             And never hadst me.MEDEA. So, thou wilt repent,             And I, thy wife Medea, I must go             Away?—I stood beside you there and wept             As thou didst trace with her your happy days             Of youth together, tarrying at each step             In sweet remembrance, till thou didst become             Naught but an echo of that distant past.—             I will not go, no, will not!JASON. Thou'rt unjust,             And hard and wild as ever!MEDEA. I unjust!             Thou dost not seek her, then, to wife? Say no!JASON. I do but seek a place to lay me down             And rest. What else will come, I do not know!MEDEA. Ay, but I know full well, and it shall be             My task to thwart thee, with the help of heaven!

JASON. Thou canst not speak with calmness, so, farewell!

[He takes a step toward the door.]

MEDEA. Jason!

JASON (turning back).

What wouldst thou?

MEDEA. 'Tis, perchance, the last,             Last time that we shall speak together!JASON. True;             Then let us without hate or rancor part.MEDEA. Thou mad'st me love thee deeply. Wouldst thou now             Flee from my face?

JASON. I must!

MEDEA. Hast robbed me, too,             Of my dear father; and wouldst steal away             Mine husband?

JASON. I am helpless!

MEDEA. At thy hands             My brother met his death untimely. Him             Thou hast taken from me, too, and now wouldst fly             And leave me?JASON. He was innocent; he fell.             And I am blameless, too; but I must flee thee.

MEDEA. I left my fatherland to follow thee!