HEBBEL’S PLAYS
GYGES AND HIS RING
ACT I
Scene 1
A Hall
Enter Kandaules and Gyges. Kandaules buckles on his sword. Thoas follows with the diadem.
Kandaules.
To-day you’ll see what Lydia can achieve!
I know you Grecians, though your necks are bended,
Just for your standstill plight bear the old yoke
With gnashing teeth and lip-curl at your lords.
No thing on earth were easily invented
You were not quick to better, were’t alone
The crown you add, you set it on—and lo,
The thing’s your work, you see that it is good!
[Thoas hands him the diadem.
Bring the new diadem! What use is this?
Has your dolt’s hand the sword as well mistaken?
[Looks at his sword.
Why yes, by Herakles whose feast we’re holding!
What, Thoas, are you doddering ere your time?
Thoas.
I thought——
Kan.
Well, what?
Thoas.
Not for five hundred years
Has King in other trapping graced the games
Your Ancestor, the Puissant, has stablished,
And when, the feast before, you made endeavour
To oust the hallowed things from olden honour,
The folk stood rooted, horrified, amazed,
Muttering as ne’er before.
Kan.
And so you think
I should have marked their gapes for my salvation?
I’ve hit your thought?
Thoas.
Lord, not without a shudder
I touch this diadem, and not till now
Has hand of mine been closed on this sword’s hilt
That all the seed of Herakles once brandished;
But these new baubles I can see unblenching
Like any other such as blinks and glances
And is your own for paying of the price.
Not on Hephaestus do I need to think,
At sight of these, who for divine Achilles
His weapons smithied,—ay, and in the fire
Wherewith the thunderbolts for Zeus are steeled;
Nor yet on Thetis, she who bade her daughters
For him be fisherfolk of pearl and coral
That thus his decking fail not of its fill.
But this sword—why, I knew the man that forged it,
And him by whom this diadem was pieced!
Kan.
Eh, Gyges!
Thoas.
Sire, fair faith speaks out of me!
If I am overbold, ’tis for your welfare.
Believe my words, the many thousand folk
That stream t’assembly hither,—ay, albeit
They walk in finer wool and fare the daintier,—
Are just as fond or pious-prim as I.
This crown here and your head—these are for them,
Your henchman vouches, halves of a single whole,
And in like grade this sword here and your arm.
Kan.
And that’s the thought of all?
Thoas.
Yes, by my head!
Kan.
Then there’s no room for dawdling! Take them off
And do what I have bid!
[Thoas takes off the regalia.
Gyges.
You’ve hurt the man.
Kan.
I know; but say, what else could I have done?
’Tis true what he has said; here the King’s worth
Is gauged but by his crown, and the crown’s worth
Owed to its rust. Woe to its furbisher!
Brighter but lighter—gain and loss are matched.
But why bemoan it if for just this once
I so forgot me—sheer worn out, and loath
Only by force of heirloom garb to glitter,
Pass current just as minted coins pass current
By take-for-granted worth, and share with statues
That in the sacred temple-niches stand
A blind and blockish sacrosanctity?
You can’t undo what’s done.
[Thoas comes with the new adornment.
Ah, thus ’tis good!
[He puts on the diadem.
That fits in place, and only what my realm
Of pearls and precious jewels disenwombs
From out the miner’s shaft or bed of ocean,
Not more nor less, is here enharmonied.
The noble stone that is not found among us,
It matters not how fair, is straitly banned.
I need not say I’ve left a place for such
As are unearthed in the next hundred years.
Now do you follow?
(To Gyges.) That one fitly suits
Some massive giant-skull such as your sculptors
Are wont to give my forebear for a head-piece,
When in his lion-skin, with bulky club,
Towering above a streamlet’s mossy rim,
You make him useful as a children’s bogy.
[He girds on the sword.
This sword is somewhat lighter than the old one;
But that’s no loss—you’ll swing it, if you must,
Not outside merely ’neath unhampered heaven
Where giants at each other volley boulders,
[He draws it and swings it.
No, but in space cramped human-small, like this!
Then, Thoas, spare the pains of a third sermon,
To-day I’ve heard the second.
Thoas.
Pardon, sire!
And yet you know ’tis not the young man’s limbs
In which a change of weather gives its warning,
It is the old man’s bones that feel it first.
[Exit.
Gyges.
He goes in sorrow!
Kan.
True; he’s loath to think
That the next thunderbolt will now strike me;
And that’s fast in his mind. I may, perhaps,
Ere that can hap, be gulped into Earth’s entrails
Unless, forsooth, the Minotaur appears!
Such is their fashion; do not therefore think
But light of them. This very day you’ll see
Their fighting stuff.
Gyges.
And wish to join the fighting.
Kan.
What, Gyges?
Gyges.
Sire, I beg you for the boon.
Kan.
No, no! Beside myself you shall be seated
That all may see how much I give you honour
And will that all men give you honour-meed.
Gyges.
But if you honour me you’ll not refuse.
Kan.
You know not what you do. Know you the Lydians?
You Grecians are a cunning folk; you set
The others all to spinning, and you weave,
And lo, a net wherein no piece of cordage
Belongs to you, yet the whole thing’s your own!
How easy ’twere to tighten, and how swift
The wide world clutched in capture if the arm
The fisher stretched were but a little stronger,
The arm that should control! But there’s the rub!
You have no trick to lure the nervy tendons
From out our bodies, so with artful seeming
We look much blinder than in truth we are,
And with a covert laugh we bungle in
Because a tiny fin-flick sets us free.
Gyges.
We celebrate these games as well.
Kan.
Yes, yes,
After a fashion, ’mongst yourselves. There Dorians
Grip with Ionians, and then, to cap it,
It comes to this—Boeotians join the fray,
And so you think that Ares’ self looks on
And with a shudder marks your every blow.
Gyges, had every prize that’s offered there
Been won by you, still were I forced to warn you
Avoid the lists e’en for the lowest guerdon.
We’ve ever set a wild and bloody pace;
But even a single twig of silver poplar,
Such as to-day are in their thousands strown,
Ventured by you, a Greek and in my graces,
Would ne’er allow you scapement of your life.
Gyges.
And so I have your “yes”; no longer now
Can you withhold consent.
Kan.
You take it so?
I were best mute.
Gyges.
I came, Sire, not alone
For begging. (He brings forth a ring.) Take it! ’Tis a royal ring.
You look on it, find naught of mark therein,
You’re mazed I am so bold to make the offer,
You’ll take it, too, as from a child a flower,
To keep the poor and artless grace unwounded
That plucked it for you, not because you’re pleased.
It’s surface-show is meagre—true—and plain
And yet you cannot, for your kingly realm,
Purchase it for your own, nor yet with force,
’Spite all your power, turn robber ’gainst its wearer
Unless of free consent he will the gift.
You wear it so (indicating with signs) to make the metal rest
With forward trend—’tis but a trinket-thing,
Perchance not even as much, but give a twist
Just so far round that with its tiny shine
This stone of dullish red can fling its rays
And presto! you are viewless and go striding
Like gods enclouded up and down the world.
Therefore contemn it not, for once again—
It is a royal ring, and this same day
Long since I chose in which to make my present.
’Tis you alone may wear it, no one else.
Kan.
Why, things before unheard sent even to us
Their rumouring; men spoke about a woman,
Medea was her name, and arts she plied
Such that the very moon was earthwards chanted;
But never have I heard of such a ring.
Where did you get it, then?
Gyges.
From out a grave.
From out a grave that lies in Thessaly.
Kan.
You oped a grave and sacrileged its peace?
Gyges.
Nay, nay, my King—I found it oped to hand.
I only crept therein to slip from robbers
Toward hid retreat, for they in whelming odds
Were hot-foot on my track and harried me
As I, by some adventurous prompting driven,
Of late a desolate wooded mountain ranged.
The urns were overthrown and spilt their ashes,
In touching disarray the shards were scattered,
And in the sickly shaft of westering sunlight
That pierced a passage through the chinkéd wall
I saw a wisp of pallid dust was swaying.
It rose before me as the final motes
That vestige death, and turned my mood so eerie
That, lest my fellow-flesh, my very fathers
Perchance, be mixed with my unconscious breathing,
Long time I held the air within my breast.
Kan.
Well? And the robbers?
Gyges.
Found my every trace
Was vanished, so it seemed, for far and farther
Their dwindling voices died, and now I thought me
Already safe assured, although not yet
I left my glimmering retreat. As now
In such a plight I cramped upon my knees
My sight fell suddenly upon this ring.
From out the wreckage heaped in tangled waste
Its stone, as though it were a living thing,
Half minding me of some sharp serpent’s eye,
Shot sparkles at me. Straight I raised it up,
I blew the ashes from it and I spoke:—
“Who bore thee once on his long-mouldered finger?”
And then, to see if ’twere a man had worn it,
I put it on, and scarce the deed was done
When from without rang—“Halt! He must be here!
See you the grave? Then onward, onward, comrades!
We have our man!” and quick appeared the troop.
But I was loath, like some defenceless beast
Harried into a hole, to suffer slaughter,
And springing forth I charged impetuous—flashing
Full at them, in my hand the lifted sword.
The sun was near the dipping of its disc
And streaming, like a candle destined soon
To quench its glow, with doubly vivid ray.
But they, as though for them alone the night
Outran its hour, stormed on with furious curses
Passing me by, and ringed them round the grave.
They raked it through, and, as I still was hid,
Cried out in scorn—“What odds? We’d find he bore
Nothing upon him but the truculent eye
That with its taunting glance so roused our rage;
Some other soon enough will blow that out!”
Then once again, but with chagrin’s slow footsteps,
Peering around and in my face even staring,
They passed me by and I was still unseen.
Kan.
And then you thought——
Gyges.
Not on the ring—not yet.
My notion was a god had wrought a wonder
To save me, and upon my knees I flung me
And thus to the Invisible One I spoke:—
“I know not who thou art, and if from me
Thy face thou hid’st, I cannot slay for thee
The beast that is thy consecrated due;
But for a sign that I have thanks at heart
And lack not courage, I will bring to thee
The fiercest of these robbers as thy meed,
And this I swear, how hard soe’er it prove.”
I hastened after them and slipped amid
Their company, and I was seized with shudders
Before myself, to see how I alone
Was marked not of them, how they spoke together,
As I were air and void, right through my form
And through it even handed bread and wine.
My eyes grew overveiled and ranging fell
Upon the ring-set stone whose radiance red
And brilliant from my hand was scintillating
With restless well and swell and pearly bubbling
Puffed into vapour; and it seemed an eye
That ever breaks in blood which ever steams.
I turned it, sheer compelled, to make confession,
Sheer terrified; for all these pearls were glinting
Like just as many stars; it touched my mood
As though the pure ethereal stream of light
Lay naked to mine eyes and I were blind
From overglory, as the harmony
They tell of in the spheres makes all men deaf.
But straight I felt me in a lusty grip
And “What is this? Hey! Who held him concealed?
A pretty joke!” was ringing in my ears.
And now ten fists were grappling for my throttle,
Ten others made to rip my raiment from me,
And I had surely met inglorious end
Had not the clumsiest fist of all the mob
Held back to snatch the ring; for suddenly
The cry was raised—“Hallo! He is not poor!
Here’s a fine fish i’ the net! See, blinking gold,
Ay, and a precious stone! Come, here with it!”
But almost in the selfsame-taken breath
Rang out—“A god, a god is come among us!”
And lo, they all were lying at my feet!
Kan.
Just as their hands about the ring were scrambling
They turned it round again and went a-quiver
As you evanished like a shape of cloud.
Gyges.
It must be so. But now I turned it back,
At last initiate in its mystic secret,
And filled with pride and recklessness I called,
“A god! Even so! And each pays penance due!”
Then hot-foot set upon them. Horror-struck,
As though I bore within my hands the thunder
And at my side new modes of death in thousands,
They scarce retained the heart and strength for flight.
But I was on their heels as though compelled
To act the vicar in the Furies’ office,
And not a soul came free of my revenge.
I would have rendered to the grave its ring,
But though I’d strewn the way with bloody corses
That marked the backward path, neither at evening
Nor yet with morning could it be discovered,
And so against my will the ring was mine.
Kan.
Such treasure has no peer.
Gyges.
Said I not so?
A royal ring! Then take it, Royal One!
Kan.
Not till the battle’s ended.
Gyges.
Sire, since then
I never have and ne’er again will wear it.
So niggard of your wood? O fie! A forest
Will not be needed for my funeral pyre;
A single tree’s enough, and trust this arm,
You’ll get remittance of the single tree.
Kan.
Then give’t! I’ll test it.
Gyges.
And I’ll weapon me.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
The Queen’s Apartment
Enter Rhodope with her attendants, among them Lesbia and Hero.
Rhodope.
And now be happy, maidens mine; to-day
Your whims are free. Though I must blame you dear
If other times you even hide and listen,
And though my gay-heart Hero yesterday,
Who clambered up the tree, were sternly scolded
Had not a bough, for all her lightsome limb,
Swift-snapping dealt her punishment enough,
Being over-weak for such a weight of wonder——
Hero.
O Queen, and if it verily caught your eyes
You’ll know as well it was the thickest one
Of all our garden-trees that I had chosen.
Rhod.
The thickest one! Maybe; but certain ’tis
The one that stood the nearest to the wall.
Hero.
The thickest one of all! I clambered up
And pierced into a very night of green.
’Twas well-nigh eerie when the golden day
Was thus behind me left, and in the darkness
I still crept on.
Rhod.
What made you do it, then?
Hero.
No wish to bring Olympus some few feet
Nearer my reach; no, such I freely granted
The nightingale a-trilling overhead.
I wanted—nay, but laugh not—I can never
Forget my cradle-rocking, and I wanted
A tiny rock up yonder.
Rhod.
Nothing more?
Hero.
And as I swung, nay not of set desire,
But as I swung—no more, just peep a fraction;
I’d be so glad to know if round our garden,
As scowling Karna ever says to us,
There runs a lake.
Lesbia.
A lake!
Hero.
Ah, you know better?
Lesbia.
Ho, have you ever heard it here a-swishing?
And is a lake untroublous as yourself?
Rhod.
I will not question further, for I know
You’ll not do thus again. Ne’er fell a maiden
So soft as you, nor e’er was frighted so.
Lesbia.
Yes, all her limbs were swooned away.
Hero.
And never
Ought I have fallen, for a stronger bough
Was near enough; but as it moved it swayed
A nest with young ones, and I would beware
Of trampling on them lest the tender brood,
Its featherless wings already in a flutter,
Be thrown in flurry.
Lesbia.
This then was the cause?
Yet they flew up. You ended with a grasp,
There’s not a doubt, a desperate grasp for safety.
Rhod.
Tease long as e’er you will; this is the day
On which the cabined house for you is open;
Now to it as you may and sate your eyes!
Hero.
And you?
Rhod.
Nay, eye not me. What’s granted you
Is merely not forbid to me. To-day
I cannot be your paragon and pattern.
Hero.
And once again you will not see the feast?
Rhod.
Nay, lest my presence mar your merry frolic.
With us it is not wont, and I should feel
As though I were to eat and have no hunger
Or drink and feel no thirst. It seems to me
That we’ve a better way at home than yours,
For ne’er without a shudder turn you home
From feasts like these whose outset is so luring.
And her I love most dearly who most deeply
Can thrill with pain nor goes a second time.
But that would not show blame in you—why, no!
Only I’m happy that my Lesbia,
Who’s grown to woman with you, feels as I.
Lesbia.
Will you to-day forgive me——
Rhod.
Why, what’s this?
And what must I forgive you? You would go?
Oh, but to take my praise back! Now she’s shamed,
Ashamed to be the daughter of her folk,
And has no cause. Am I myself aught other?
Go, go, and tell me who the victor was.
Hero.
Young Gyges too will surely join the fighting,
He of the noble voice.
Rhod.
So soon you know
How rings his voice?
Hero.
Oh, yes—but nothing more.
To-day we’ll see him, and believe my words,
She goes, like us, only for him.
Lesbia.
But I
May cheat you, and remaining prove your falsehood.
Hero.
Oh, that you’ll never do.
[Kandaules enters in haste.
Kan.
Rhodope, greeting!
But know you who I am? A carpet-gallant,
A kingly ninth-of-man, forsooth a measurer
Of ells but not of swords, who is to blame
That Herakles’ twelve deeds have not long since
Found four-and-twenty other feats and greater
For overmatch. If you will not believe ’t
Why only ask Alcaeus—old curmudgeon!
You know him not? Nor I, before to-day.
And know you how I use to make men happy?
I speak thus:—“Come, young man, here is a seed!
Now plant it in the earth and sprinkle o’er
The spot with water; do it day by day
And be assured that when your hair is frosty
You’ll have a meal of cherries for your pains.
What? ‘Sweet or sour?’—You’ll not find out till then!”
I give you Agron as my guarantee
Worthy Alcaeus names him worthy friend,
His perfect peer, but not so white of beard.
Rhod.