by W. B. Yeats
[One of the Musicians sings the following song]
Astrea’s holy child!
A rattle in the wood
Where a Titan strode!
His rattle drew the child
Into that solitude.
Barrum, barrum, barrum.
[Drum-taps accompany and follow the words]
We wandering women,
Wives for all that come,
Tried to draw him home;
And every wandering woman
Beat upon a drum.
Barrum, barrum, barrum.
[Drum-taps as before]
But the murderous Titans
Where the woods grow dim
Stood and waited him.
The great hands of those Titans
Tore limb from limb.
Barrum, barrum, barrum.
[Drum-taps as before]
On virgin Astrea
That can succour all
Wandering women call;
Call out to Astrea
That the moon stood at the full.
Barrum, barrum, barrum.
[Drum-taps as before]
THE GREEK. I cannot think all that self-surrender and self-abasement is Greek, despite the Greek name of its god. When the goddess came to Achilles in the battle she did not interfere with his soul, she took him by his yellow hair. Lucretius thinks that the gods appear in the visions of the day and night but are indifferent to human fate; that, however, is the exaggeration of a Roman rhetorician. They can be discovered by contemplation, in their faces a high keen joy like the cry of a bat, and the man who lives heroically gives them the only earthly body that they covet. He, as it were, copies their gestures and their acts. What seems their indifference is but their eternal possession of themselves. Man, too, remains separate. He does not surrender his soul. He keeps his privacy.
[Drum-taps to represent knocking at the door]
THE HEBREW. There is someone at the door, but I dare not open with that crowd in the street.
THE GREEK. YOU need not be afraid. The crowd has begun to move away. [The Hebrew goes down into the audience towards the left]
I deduce from our great philosophers that a god can overwhelm man with disaster, take health and wealth away, but man keeps his privacy. If that is the Syrian he may bring such confirmation that mankind will never forget his words.
THE HEBREW [from amongst the audience]. It is the Syrian. There is something wrong. He is ill or drunk.
[He helps the Syrian on to the stage-]
THE SYRIAN. I am like a drunken man. I can hardly stand upon my feet. Something incredible has happened. I have run all the way.
THE HEBREW. Well?
THE SYRIAN. I must tell the Eleven at once. Are they still in there?
Everybody must be told.
THE HEBREW. What is it? Get your breath and speak.
THE SYRIAN. I was on my way to the tomb. I met the Galilean women, Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary the mother of James, and the other women. The younger women were pale with excitement and began to speak all together. I did not know what they were saying; but Mary the mother of James said that they had been to the tomb at daybreak and found that it was empty.
THE GREEK. Ah!
THE HEBREW. The tomb cannot be empty. I will not believe it.
THE SYRIAN. At the door stood a man all shining, and cried out that
Christ had arisen. [Faint drum-taps and the faint sound of a rattle]
As they came down the mountain a man stood suddenly at their side; that man was Christ himself. They stooped down and kissed his feet. Now stand out of my way that I may tell Peter and James and John.
THE HEBREW [standing before the curtained entrance of the inner room] I will not stand out of the way.
THE SYRIAN. Did you hear what I said? Our master has arisen.
THE HEBREW. I will not have the Eleven disturbed for the dreams of women.
THE GREEK. The women were not dreaming. They told you the truth, and yet this man is in the right. He is in charge here. We must all be convinced before we speak to the Eleven.
THE SYRIAN. The Eleven will be able to judge better than we.
THE GREEK. Though we are so much younger we know more of the world than they do.
THE HEBREW. If you told your story they would no more believe it than I do, but Peter’s misery would be increased. I have known him longer than you and I know what would happen. Peter would remember that the women did not flinch; that not one amongst them denied her master; that the dream proved their love and faith. Then he would remember that he had lacked both, and imagine that John was looking at him. He would turn away and bury his head in his hands.
THE GREEK. I said that we must all be convinced, but there is another reason why you must not tell them anything. Somebody else is coming. I am certain that Jesus never had a human body; that he is a phantom and can pass through that wall; that he will so pass; that he will pass through this room; that he himself will speak to the apostles.
THE SYRIAN. He is no phantom. We put a great stone over the mouth of the tomb, and the women say that it has been rolled back.
THE HEBREW. The Romans heard yesterday that some of our people planned to steal the body, and to put abroad a story that Christ had arisen; and so escape the shame of our defeat. They probably stole it in the night.
THE SYRIAN. The Romans put sentries at the tomb. The women found the sentries asleep. Christ had put them asleep that they might not see him move the stone.
THE GREEK. A hand without bones, without sinews, cannot move a stone.
THE SYRIAN. What matter if it contradicts all human knowledge? — another Argo seeks another fleece, another Troy is sacked.
THE GREEK. Why are you laughing?
THE SYRIAN. What is human knowledge?
THE GREEK. The knowledge that keeps the road from here to Persia free from robbers, that has built the beautiful humane cities, that has made the modern world, that stands between us and the barbarian.
THE SYRIAN. But what if there is something it cannot explain, something more important than anything else?
THE GREEK. You talk as if you wanted the barbarian back.
THE SYRIAN. What if there is always something that lies outside knowledge, outside order? What if at the moment when knowledge and order seem complete that something appears?
[He begins to laugh.
THE HEBREW. Stop laughing.
THE SYRIAN. What if the irrational return? What if the circle begin again?
THE HEBREW. Stop! He laughed when he saw Calvary through the window, and now you laugh.
THE GREEK. He too has lost control of himself.
THE HEBREW. Stop, I tell you.
[Drums and rattles]
THE SYRIAN. But I am not laughing. It is the people out there who are laughing.
THE HEBREW. NO, they are shaking rattles and beating drums.
THE SYRIAN. I thought they were laughing. How horrible!
THE GREEK [looking out over heads of audience]- The worshippers of Dionysus are coming this way again. They have hidden their image of the dead god, and have begun their lunatic cry, ‘God has arisen! God has arisen!’ [The Musicians who have been saying ‘God has arisen!’ fall silent] They will cry ‘God has arisen!’ through all the streets of the city. They can make their god live and die at their pleasure; but why are they silent? They are dancing silently. They are coming nearer and nearer, dancing all the while, using some kind of ancient step unlike anything I have seen in Alexandria. They are almost under the window now.
THE HEBREW. They have come back to mock us, because their god arises every year, whereas our god is dead for ever.
THE GREEK. How they roll their painted eyes as the dance grows quicker and quicker! They are under the window. Why are they all suddenly motionless? Why are all those unseeing eyes turned upon this house? Is there anything strange about this house?
THE HEBREW. Somebody has come into the room.
THE GREEK. Where?
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THE HEBREW. I do not know; but I thought I heard a step.
THE GREEK. I knew that he would come.
THE HEBREW. There is no one here. I shut the door at the foot of the steps.
THE GREEK. The curtain over there is moving.
THE HEBREW. No, it is quite still, and besides there is nothing behind it but a blank wall.
THE GREEK. Look, look!
THE HEBREW. Yes, it has begun to move.
[During what follows he backs in terror towards the left-hand corner of the stage-}
THE GREEK. There is someone coming through it.
[The figure of Christ wearing a recognisable but stylistic mask enters through the curtain. The Syrian slowly draws back the curtain that shuts off the inner room where the apostles are. The three young men are towards the left of the stage, the figure of Christ is at the back towards the right.
THE GREEK. It is the phantom of our master. Why are you afraid? He has been crucified and buried, but only in semblance, and is among us once more. [The Hebrew kneels] There is nothing here but a phantom, it has no flesh and blood. Because I know the truth I am not afraid. Look, I will touch it. It may be hard under my hand like a statue — I have heard of such things — or my hand may pass through it — but there is no flesh and blood. [He goes slowly up to the figure and passes his hand over its side] The heart of a phantom is beating! The heart of a phantom is beating!
[He screams. The figure of Christ crosses the stage and passes into the inner room.}
THE SYRIAN. He is standing in the midst of them. Some are afraid. He looks at Peter and James and John. He smiles. He has parted the clothes at his side. He shows them his side. There is a great wound there. Thomas has put his hand into the wound. He has put his hand where the heart is.
THE GREEK. O Athens, Alexandria, Rome, something has come to destroy you! The heart of a phantom is beating. Man has begun to die! Your words are clear at last, O Heraclitus. God and man die each other’s life, live each other’s death.
[The Musicians rise, one or more singing the following words.
If the performance is in a private room or studio, they unfold and fold a curtain as in my dance plays; if at the Peacock Theatre, they draw the proscenium curtain across]
I
In pity for man’s darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all Platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
II
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day:
Love’s pleasure drives his love away,
The painter’s brush consumes his dreams;
The herald’s cry, the soldier’s tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man’s own resinous heart has fed.
Curtain
THE KING OF THE GREAT CLOCK TOWER
To
Ninette de Valois
PERSONS IN THE PLAY
First Attendant —
The King
Second Attendant —
The Queen
The Stroller
THE KING OF THE GREAT CLOCK TOWER
When the stage curtain rises it shows an inner curtain whereon is perhaps a stencilled pattern of dancers. At the right and left sides of the proscenium are a drum and gong. The Queen should wear a beautiful impassive mask; the Stroller, a wild half-savage mask. It should cover the upper part of his face, the lower part being hidden by his red beard. The Attendants stand by drum and gong; they slowly part the curtains, singing.
SECOND ATTENDANT. They dance all day that dance in Tir-nan-oge.
FIRST ATTENDANT. There every lover is a happy rogue;
And should he speak, it is the speech of birds.
No thought has he, and therefore has no words,
No thought because no clock, no clock because
If I consider deeply, lad and lass,
Nerve touching nerve upon that happy ground,
Are bobbins where all time is bound and wound.
SECOND ATTENDANT. O never may that dismal thread run loose;
FIRST ATTENDANT. For there the hound that Oisin saw pursues
The hornless deer that runs in such a fright;
And there the woman clasps an apple tight
For all the clamour of a famished man.
They run in foam, and there in foam they ran,
Nor can they stop to take a breath that still
Hear in the foam the beating of a bell.
[When the curtains are parted one sees to left the King and
Queen upon two thrones, which may be two cubes. There should be two cubes upon the opposite side to balance them.
The background may be a curtain hung in a semicircle, or a semicircle of one-foot Craig screens.
The two Attendants sit down by drum and gong. They remain facing the audience at either side of the stage, but a little in the shadow.
THE KING. A year ago you walked into this house,
A year ago to-night. Though neither I
Nor any man could tell your family,
Country or name, I put you on that throne.
And now before the assembled court, before
Neighbours, attendants, courtiers, men-at-arms,
I ask your country, name and family,
And not for the first time. Why sit you there
Dumb as an image made of wood or metal,
A screen between the living and the dead?
All persons here assembled, and because
They think that silence unendurable,
Fix eyes upon you.
[There is a pause. The Queen neither speaks nor moves. First
Attendant strikes the drum three times.
Captain of the Guard!
Some traveller strikes a blow upon the gate.
Open. Admit him.
FIRST ATTENDANT [speaking as Captain of the Guard, without turning his head], I admit him, King.
The Stroller enters
THE KING. What is your name?
THE STROLLER. — Enough that I am called
A stroller and a fool, that you are called
King of the Great Clock Tower.
THE KING. — What do you want?
THE STROLLER. A year ago I heard a brawler say
That you had married with a woman called
Most beautiful of her sex. I am a poet.
From that day out I put her in my songs,
And day by day she grew more beautiful.
Hard-hearted men that plough the earth and sea
Sing what I sing, yet I that sang her first
Have never seen her face.
THE KING. — Have you no wife,
Mistress or friend to put into a song?
THE STROLLER. I had a wife. The image in my head
Made her appear fat, slow, thick of the limbs,
In all her movements like a Michaelmas goose.
I left her, but a night or two ago
I ate my sausage at a tavern table —
A stroller and a man of no account
I dine among the ganders — a gander scoffed,
Said I would drink myself to sleep, or cry
My head among the dishes on the table,
Because of a woman I had never seen.
THE KING. But what have I to do with it?
THE STROLLER. — Send for the Queen.
The ganders cannot scoff when I have seen her.
THE KING. He seems a most audacious brazen man,
Not caring what he speaks of, nor to whom,
Nor where he stands.
THE STROLLER. — But never have I said
Brazen, audacious, disrespectful words
Of the image in my head
. Summon her in
That I may look on its original.
THE KING. She is at my side.
THE STROLLER. — The Queen of the Great Clock Tower?
THE KING. The Queen of the Great Clock Tower is at my side.
THE STROLLER. Neither so red, nor white, nor full in the breast
As I had thought. What matter for all that
So long as I proclaim her everywhere
Most beautiful!
THE KING. — GO now that you have seen!
THE STROLLER. Not yet, for on the night the gander gabbed
I swore that I would see the Queen, and that —
My God, but I was drunk — the Queen would dance
And dance to me alone.