Midsummer’s Eve. A square surrounded by tall, ancient buildings. On the east side, a Temple. On the west side, a few musicians play on a dais; above them hangs a balcony, separated by curtains from an inner room. A crowd mills about. Booths line the square, advertising various wares.
Crowd. We adore now the rays
Of the beneficent sun
On this Midsummer Eve
As he sets to bid us sleep.
But on this night we walk awake
To be the first to greet him
Who usually finds us sleeping.
Tomorrow is his day, warm and long!
Today in his name
Was held a musical competition:
Wailing kortholts, lizards, bladder pipes,
Soft rackets, gemshorns, recorders,
Loud bleating of the dulcians and sacbuts,
The tambourines, drums, finger cymbals, pipes and tabors,
Organettos, rebecs, psalteries, zinks, cornamuses,
Nakers, transverse flutes, serpents, rauschpfeifes,
Hurdy-gurdies and crumhorns, harps and lutes.
Three were chosen to receive prize—
Sebastian, the charming player of the viol,
The popular favorite,
Cato, the student, with the lovely voice,
And the judges’ choice, Pascal, a monk—
He played the shawm.
And tonight we hold a dance
Gigue, chacona, allemande,
Galliard and sarabande,
Pavanne, courante, and saltarello.
The beneficent sun sets soon, to signal merriment.
Nixie appears in the middle of the crowd.
Nixie. I tire of my life,
Of all my tasks:
Tangling the horse’s tail
And planting the dandelion seeds…
I tire of men and of my purpose.
The list grows endless…
Pierre, Pierre Curie
I suppose you do not remember the day
When you told me that you longed to pierce the veil of science.
I suppose you do not even remember me.
We both were young
We both were strange and not like them
Like them, the other children of the world
We read the books that tell the stories of our souls
How is it, that even with such a small world as I had then
I could fall in love with your image:
The pale, blond, blind, intelligent prince of words?
I saw you years ago
At first I did not recognize you.
In my memories, you were much more beautiful.
But perhaps you have recently improved,
Gawky adolescence never served anyone well!
I am inextricably entwined with you
I can never fall in love with anyone who is not you.
And I wondered
If you are who I think you are…
Oberon, I dreamt once of you
You kissed the back of my head very gently.
It is the only dream I can remember without a tinge of struggle or worry.
I have spent daydreams pondering your origin.
I would swear you were born under the earth,
Amidst a mob of golden, well-formed fairies.
I have heard you sing and felt the shivers run up my spine.
I can see that you don’t belong to this world or to these people.
You must be a child of the sun, gold and golden…
I have not seen you for some time and I wonder
Are you any older than you were when we last spoke?
Have you stopped poisoning yourself?
What gives you the right, O son of earth, to destroy yourself?
Such a fair creation ought never to be marred!
You belong in a museum,
Between the white carved statues with their sleek muscles
And the Impressionist paintings, full of red lips and luscious curls.
Your voice,
Your face,
Your grace—
They are all too wonderful for reckoning.
Now there is Pascal, Pascal…
I wonder, precious darling, beautiful boy
Has anyone told you
That you are the most beautiful being on Earth?
If I could have a son,
I’d pray that he would be
Exactly like you,
Exactly like you…
I have never seen a more innocent face.
Every moment you have continued to prove your perfection.
I have watched you secretly to try to find your flaw.
I have found that your flaws are more endearing than your charms.
Your melodies are enchanting,
And I have lost my chance and my right to approach you.
How could I, with my charred remnants of integrity,
Dare to hope for your notice?
I watch as you daily blossom
Has there ever been another who, upon my better knowing him,
Never ceased to command my respect and admiration?
You will go on improving,
But I will soon cease to be beauty
I will soon cease to be lively
I will soon cease to be anything at all
But I thought I would tell you before I go
Without hope or even thought of response
That you are beautiful!
For, perhaps, no one else has ever told you so.
How am I ever to compare with you?
How am I ever to be worthy of your glance?
You fascinate me…
I will try; I must try to renounce my ways…
Crowd. Did you hear the viol player?
He never looked nervous.
His a superior master of da gamba
And an excellent showman!
His bow rests so comfortably on his upturned palm,
While his left hand commands the frets!
The viol rests between his knees with hint
Of neither instability nor tension!
He manages to grin so charmingly at the audience
As he executes his double stops and portamentos.
Buy lights to keep us safe at night!
Buy caramel apples, sweet and clean!
Buy shawls and kerchiefs to drape about you!
The thickening darkness cannot triumph
If we can only stay awake.
But water from the mountain springs!
Samir stands in his booth.
Samir. Night-worshippers, fear not—
For later, we will have our day.
Remember that we all have secrets
And secret knowledge is power!
Let not the sunlight creep in every crack.
He disappears.
Nixie. Oh, Paschal Victim,
The first notes of the shawm keened,
High-pitched and piercing.
Surely this man is a god!
He caressed the dorian tune effortlessly
As each note floated into the sky!
I could never, never play the shawm
With such excellence!
I recognize in his tone none of the harsh stridency
That squeals forth form my instrument.
The corners of his mouth dimple perfectly!
His eyes closed charmingly as he lost himself in music.
Ah, I say a god, but he is human—
I have seen him in the sunlight!
And they say he’s sworn to celibacy—
An impossible task, I have always found.
But his demise would be an insult to the world of art,
So I must stay away to keep from tempting him.
To kiss a face like that
Would be to kiss the face of God!
To capture a soul like that
Would be a reenactment of death!
But this idea of celibacy fascinates me…
It could be the answer to my ennui.
Lilith. Nixie! Darling!
How wonderful to see you here!
I can’t find anyone else I know.
How long will it be before we dance?
Nixie. Hours, I hope.
I’ve decided that I hate to dance.
I came to hear Sebastian play the viola da gamba
At the contest.
I had thought of bringing my shawm
But I am too lazy to practice.
I had much more fun
Lying in the muddy banks of the millpond
Counting daffodil petals,
Catching at the ankles of the miller’s children,
Playfully trying to pull them down.
One of the miller’s children
Is a boy with disheveled blond locks!
How I’d like to have a boy like that down at the bottom of my pond!
However does Sebastian force himself to practice?
Lilith. It is not that Father does not have such temptations,
Rather, his talent allows him to forego practicing.
At any rate, the chance at two hundred florins
Is enough to tempt him away from any number of blonds.
Oh, Nixie!
The Midsummer Fair is here at last!
We have come to celebrate the beneficent sun.
Nixie. Midsummer is an excuse to leave the miller’s,
To bind up my hair,
To slip on my sturdy shoes,
And to spend some of the guilders
That arrive in the pockets of young men.
These guilders are of no use to me at the bottom of the pond!
A fanfare. Marta appears on the balcony above the dais and addresses the crowd. Pascal, hooded and shy, appears next to her. Nixie is enraptured.
Marta. Welcome, kindly people
To our Midsummer Fair!
Let me introduce to you
The winner of the first
Of a series of contest
To honor the beneficent sun!
His name is Pascal;
He is a sacred brother
At the ancient temple here.
Pascal bows to the applause, then leaves at Marta’s gesture.
Marta. And now there will be dancing until the sun returns.
I entreat you, good folks,
To remember the sun we serve,
And to honor his day in ways that will bring no harm to his image.
Marta disappears behind the curtain.
Nixie. There is Sebastian!
Lilith. He was everyone’s favorite!
I cannot believe he won only third place.
Nixie. No, there were two that were better—
The rakish baritone named Cato
And the shawm…
She and Lilith wave. Sebastian grins back. He is putting away his bass viola da gamba across the square.
Nixie. Lilith, tell me—
Has Sebastian found a husband for you yet?
Lilith. No, he keeps bringing boys home
Heaven knows where he finds them all!
The village huts must be nigh empty!
But they are all boring and too young.
He has taken to bringing home babies,
So we can bring them up as proper consorts,
But honestly, how am I supposed to fall in love with a baby?
So now we have a lot of extra slaves.
Nixie. Extra slaves are very useful.
Be careful, dear, keep closer to the crowd.
Someone will notice that you haven’t any…
Lilith. Soon it will be dark enough that we won’t have to worry.
Oh, what a relief to be free for a few moments!
Nixie. You act as though this were your first Midsummer Fair!
Lilith. Oh, it is! Did you not know?
Father has forbidden me to come until this year—
He was afraid of the bonfires.
Oh, Nixie, it’s so wonderful!
You know I love nothing better than to dance!
Nixie. Lilith, this is not the dancing you are used to—
Not the solo dance of bringing flowers up for spring
Not the sliding movement of the arm to Sebastian’s da gamba—
But folk dances, with circles, and steps, and partners!
Oh, don’t look worried, it’s easy,
All you have to do is know left from right
And be able to count to eight.
The only reason I don’t like it
Is because the men bother me so much.
I’m so tired of men.
Lilith. You are tired of men?
You can’t be!
It would go against your very nature,
Ordained by the highest powers at the beginning of time!
Nixie. You misunderstand me, dearest!
I do not mean that I have ceased to be addicted to men!
I mean only that as time goes on,
I begin to find it wearying.
That is our curse, as you know,
The curse of longevity,
The curse of eternally fulfilling the same purpose
Until our eternal purpose does not fulfill us.
I must go on, as you note,
Luring them into the millpond,
Watching them drown and holding their corpses
While their souls go wandering the earth…
It wearies me.
Someday, young one,
You will feel this, too.
Lilith. I can’t imagine a future that isn’t bright and delicious!
The world is so big and I am so big
That I will never run out of experiences!
Nixie, see!
The last streaks of pink sunlight
Have been pulled behind us into the west
The temple bells clang the hour!
Nixie and Lilith climb atop a stone monument to see and to keep out of the way of the dancing crowd. Pascal leads the crowd in a silent, worshipful prayer to the west, then turns and joins a group of monks who ceremonially turn to the east and enter the Temple. Sebastian makes his way through the crowd and swings himself up next to Lilith and Nixie, grinning.
Lilith. Father, may I dance?
It’s so dark, no one will notice the shadows!
Sebastian. You may as well, only mind the steps,
And please appear as peasant-like as possible.
Lilith gleefully leaps down into the crowd to join the dancing.
Nixie. Why are you going through my pockets?
Sebastian. Have you any money?
Nixie. Here, in the only pocket you haven’t yet found.
I thought you just won fifty florins.
Sebastian. That’s for professional uses only.
Nixie. I see. What is this for, then?
Sebastian. Carmel apples. Would you like one?
They laugh together. Nixie hands some money to Sebastian, who pockets it.
Sebastian. First, tell me… what did you think of the shawm tonight?
Nixie. I have no words! Only fluttering eyelashes and palpitating heart!
Sebastian. I agree! Isn’t he talented?
And now for the apples?
Nixie. Please, Sebastian, don’t go just yet.
You know the minute I’m alone
I’ll be swarmed by potential dance partners,
And you know I can’t say no.
Won’t you dance with me, please?
Sebastian. You hate dancing.
Nixie. Trying to avoid it isn’t worth the effort.
I want to enjoy the music.
And if I’m not dancing with you,
I’ll have to make small talk with silly strangers.
Sebastian. I understand.
It’s difficult to really hear
The particular contrapuntal techniques
When you’ve got to make conversation.
I’ll be very glad to dance with you, Nix.
It’ll save me being asked by thirty or forty other girls.
Nixie. When we dance together,
Nobody cuts in!
Sebastian. It’s because we’re both so wonderful
That we obviously deserve each other!
Nobody else has the confidence to compete.
Sebastian and Nixie. Like burden of soft velvet and of wood,
Is warming heaviness of hard-pressed hand,
And murmur of the breezes understood,
The flavor of autumnal snow unplanned,
The scent of potion vigilant and rich,
And piercing radiance of falling sun.
Attuning to the sacbut’s voice-like pitch—
And never loath to leave the world undone—
We пошласть creatures concentrate on such
As motion, kisses, food, and gaudy cloth,
And never can achieve the faintest touch
Of dignity in spirit or in troth.
Grotesque obsession with th’ material
Forbids involvement in th’ ethereal.
They disappear into the dark, fluid crowd. All dance.
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