Author. 2£ J5jsz..(9±. nio Title. Imprint. IC — «7S73-2 OPO It ft- ',1 W la If ^ S^^ €lm i f i^ « 1 iw^a THE ORACLE A MUSIC-DRAMA PETER ROBERTSON HUMPHREY J. STEWART BOHEMIA '} MCMX -2 i THE ORACLE A Music-Drama especially written for and first produced at the dedication of the new home of the Bohemian Club, San Francisco, on Saturday, November the twelfth, nineteen hundred and ten. Book by PETER ROBERTSON Music by H. J. STEWART Apollo . . . Euterpe, Muse of Song Thalia, Muse of Comedy - Calliope, Muse of Poetry Messenger of the Lares High Priests of Apollo Assistant Priests of Apollo Attendant of Bohemia Bohemia - . - 1 H. McDonald spencer - WYATT ALLEN - J. C. DORNIN - HARRIS ALLEN - FRANK MITCHELL - FRANK P. DEERING E. COURTNEY FORD FRANK ONSLOW CARL E. ANDERSON REGINALD E. G. KEENE - HENRY L. PERRY ROY RYONE ALLAN DUNN Chorus of Greek Populace Dramatic Ensemble by ALLAN DUNN Stage Manager, WM. H. SMITH Scenery, GEORGE LYONS Lighting, ED. J. DUFFEY Copyright. 1910. by Peter Robertson and Humphrey J. Stewart. Printed for private publication. ^^-^=^ < ^ir-^ THE ORACLE Interior of a Temple of Apollo. At the back is the Shrine of the Oracle. It is nightfall and the assemblage is present at the appeal to the Oracle of a stranger from a far off country. Eternal Mystery, the Mystery of Fate ! The Temple's silence, vibrant, trembles in its awe ; The craven hearts of men stand still 'twixt fear and hope; They quake before the Unseen Presence of the Gods ; The Gods, at whose brief nod the destinies of men In misery sink or to a triumph glorious rise. By Will divine the shuttle noiseless weaves the web; By Will divine the blending strands take hue and shade ; By Will divine the fatal shears their angles close ; So mortals die and pass as falls the severed thread. As secret as the farthest future of our days. The moment of our lives that lies so close beyond. Dust of our Mother Earth, our Frames ! Breath of the Gods, our Souls ! Oh, gift divine ! and by that gift alone Mortals may pray and Deities attend. Powers who, with the unuttered thought, create ; Powers who. with the unuttered wish, destroy ; For all our weakness be ye pitiful ! For all our mortal evil, merciful ! Grant us what Gods and men alike may crave, Eternal Happiness! Enter the High and Attendant Priests. THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS Glorious Apollo! From thy Celestial Orb All being springs. (3) Thy gentle beam, j^'ooing the clod, Charms from the sullen clay Leaf, flower, and fruit. The eyes of mortals, touched by thy pure ray As with a spell. Behold a world all loveliness. 'Twas thus the Gods, in love, into men's frames breathed life. Through beauty still thou speakest to men's souls. TWO ATTENDANT PRIESTS The Source of Life the Gods have made thy charge; Thou see'st far into the fates of men; Even to the end, if that there be an end ! To thee no time, no distance nor to thee The Future, nor the Present, nor the Past. All is as if 'twere one. Thy Prophecy, The unsealed purpose of the Gods. TWO ATTENDANT PRIESTS The spheres at thy command make music, And the sweet, melodious strains That move men's souls on earth Spring from thy lyre divine ! THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS AND THE CHORUS Glorious Apollo ! Thy chariot wheels to mortal ears unheard, Thy steeds unseen ; Thine Orb of Fire Celestial silent rolls ; From jocund Earth springs Life all beautiful ; And, from the hearts of men, a song of joy, Swayed by thy lyre, To music of the spheres. But by thy Will, through this, thine Oracle, May mortals trembling peer into their fates. Flere at thy shrine we wait in awe The mystic message from the Infinite ! THE PRIESTS Apollo, Hear! (4) Apollo, Hear! Apollo, Hear ! Apollo. Hear! Apollo, Hear! Apollo, Hear! A light begins to glotv within the shrine. THE C?iORUS THE PRIESTS THE CHORUS THE PRIESTS THE CHORUS The Oracle ! THE CHORi;S THE CHORUS The radiant light, light of the God, Glows from the shrine ; Through dazzled eyes of mortals Pierces to their souls ! The Oracle ! Our prayers are heard ! A HIGH PRIEST The God will speak! THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS Who would consult the Oracle, And tempt the hidden secret of his fate ? BOHEMIA I! Enter Bohemia. (5) A HIGH PRIEST Who art thou? BOHEMFA From a far off land I come ! A HIGH PRll'ST There is no far off land; unto the Gods All lands are near! What would'st thou know? Hast thou an argosy upon the deep? W'ould'st ask the Gods to search a woman's heart? Or dost thou crave a boon for thine own self? BOHEMIA No argosy have I ; Nor care I for the beat of woman's heart. No boon I crave. I would but ask The counsel of the God. My country is Bohemia ! There have we raised a temple. Consecrate — A HIGH PRIEST The God has read thy thought! THE CHORUS The God has read thy thought. The Oracle! VOICE OF THE ORACLE What thou see'st is not seen. What thou knowest is not known. What thou doest is not done. BOHEMIA The words I hear. Their meaning mystic As the shrine. (6) A HIGH PRIEST The Temple wliich tliine eyes behold is all unseen. Thy purpose is not finite as thy knowledge is. Thy consecration is an act that never ends. BOHEMIA Still do I listen! THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS The Temples of the Gods are in men's souls. Theirs not the \\'hat thou doest. but the Why. Nor carved stones, nor pillars, nor the festive halls. The music nor the laughter; nor the light heart, Nor even the kind deed, Nor aught thou showest outwardly ; but only this. Thy thought, its meaning, and the spirit of thine act ! BOHEMIA We are but mortals, and to mortals is forbid Perfection of the Gods. Yet would we strive that so Our thought, its meaning, and the spirit of our act May for Bohemia win the favor of the Fates. VOICE OF THE ORACLE Thy fate is not in thee. BOHEMIA Again thy words are mystic. A HIGH PRIEST The wind that steals away the vagrant seed Changes its destiny. A HIGH PRIEST The stream that gently murmurs through the glen Bears many a fate. BOHEMIA These be the things that have no souls. I speak of Men ! (7) THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS • The Gods have made Mankind, not Men; Each soul its own, to render back Stained or unstained ; The peril theirs ! That fire divine, which Men call Life, Is but the spirit of the Universe. BOHEMIA Yet for all Men are fates — A HIGH PRIEST The Fates weave not the future. Out of each moment is a moment born ; Inheritor of every splendor, grace, or taint Of all the aeons Men have known as time. I'hat moment is thy fate ! BOHEMIA The Gods have woven the aeons ! A HIGH PRIEST Men make Men's fates ! The Furies. Men ! Each thought and act is fate. Not for thyself alone, but for thy Fellowman, Oh, purblind race, the Gods pursue you not. The Will of High Olympus is the Law I BOHEMIA So have the Gods of High Olympus made Mankind, Souls, kindred to themselves, chained in coarse frames of clay, The Creatures of a Law, now cruel and now kind : A Law inscrutable, Men must not comprehend ! The high ideal nursed within the soul, and sought With eager will, is but a dream. It is the Law! The sentient thrill of beauty, throbbing for an hour, Turns into pain as beauty fades. It is the Law ! The hope that stirs the souls of men becomes a pang. All bitter as it vanishes. It is the Law! (8) The love twixt man and woman that brings joy untold Its own keen shafts of torture bears. It is ':he Law ! The mother's heart that, o'er her offspring, beats with bliss Beats faster with an unknown fear. It is the Law ! The blessing that, with all our earnest prayer, we crave Comes not; but in its place, howe'er "tis undeserved. There falls the blow we dreamed not of. It is the Law ! The will to do all kindness, owning not the means; The right that turns to wrong ; the good deed misconstrued; Changed into ill; the ill deed done that we re\-cnge; The ill deed done that we forgive; all might not be! Life knov.'s no everlasting or unsullied joy 1 It is the Law ! Bold is Bohemia! He flouts the Gods ! THE CHORUS BOHEMIA ! I do not flout the Gods! All reverently I speak. The grain of dust beneath the avalanche were more Than I, did but the Gods of High Olympus breathe. THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS The God is patient! VOICE OF THE ORACLE The stones of earth have reason in them. A HIGH PRIEST Thou comest of the race Deucalion raised By Jove's command. THE CHORUS In Ancient Days, The World was Paradise, So fair, the Gods abode with men, And filled their life with radiance As of Heaven. (9) Till, in the Age of Iron, Drunk with false pride Of the Celestial favor, Men defied the Gods, Stained the fair World With sin and crime, Dared to probe Into great Nature's secrets. And disdained Even Jove himself! Then rose the God in rage majestic, Hurling forth the storm, With flood tempestuous, He Swept them to Chaos ! From stones of earth Deucalion cast behind, Jove framed a race anew ; Made them know pain ; They might not then forget Mortality. BOHEMIA Within my soul I feel but reverent fear and awe, My words a prayer! VOICE OF THE ORACLE Who would dispute the Means Should know the End. A HIGH PRIEST Men's craving is not prayer. The Gods are just. Men pray for their desire. Not knowing oft th' injustice of the wish. A HIGH PRIEST Thou may'st deserve; But thy deserving given. From others may take that they more deserve. Thou canst not know ! (10) THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS The knowledge that thou seekest Is not for thy good! The zest of life lies ever in suspense. The ill foreknown kills every joy That comes between ; The happiness foreseen Is in anticipation lost. Without the sorrow, who could know the joy ; Without the misery, who could happy be? THE CHORUS The thrill of beauty lives within the pain; Behind the pang, the pleasure of new hope; Twice sweet the love that is from torture freed ; The mother's bliss would into folly turn, But for the unknown fear; The wrong is oft the right ; The right oft wrong; The ill deed more a blessing- than the good, The Gods alone may know ! BOHEMIA Men still seek happiness ; since by thy Law alone, May mortals make the lesser part of life the pain, We crave thy counsel. Let us know but how to live! VOICE OF THE ORACLE Turn to thyself ! A HIGH PRIEST The Gods have given thee reason. Since it leads Thee to pursue the Mysteries for thy Good, And for thy Purpose High, thy boldness is forgiven ! The Law thou hast. THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS Upon thy Conscience carved. As on a stone, thou hast the Law, So often, unconsidered, conned. (11) That its Commandments pass ^ Like proverbs without meaning From each tongue. Read thou thy Conscience, Therein shalt thou find This Law ! THE CHORUS In bounds and limits all things work for good. Love well, but be not blind To evil that love may beget. Hate thou, but pity still. The evil man as evil thing. The ill, when 'tis revenged Is all undone ; The ill with patience met Falls on its source. The kindness willed Without the means Is more than kindness That seeks gratitude. Seek not reward ; Who seeks reward May merit punishment. So follow thou the Good, And leave thy soul To judgment of the Power Supreme, Who knoweth all ! BOHEMIA The Gods are Wisdom ; wise must be the end. I ask no more but strength to do thy will. VOICE OF THE OR.\CLE What thou hast, thou shalt receive ! A HIGH PRIEST The Gods have loved thee long, Bohemia, Through all thy mortal failings, Still thy aims approved. The Muses long have dwelt with thee, (12) And now renew the gifts They gave thee at thy birth. The Muse of Song sakites thee ! Euterpe enters and presents the Lvre. THE CHORUS Hail, Muse of Song! Harmony Infinite ! Thou quellest all things base; To thy mysterious thrill The pulses of the Universe keep time ; The Earth inanimate throbs at thy sound; The mortal frame, vibrant beneath the spell Thou castest on the soul, becomes a lyre. Hail, Muse of Song! Exit Euterpe A HIGH PRIEST Thalia greets thee ! Thalia enters and gizrs the Mask. THE CHORUS Hail, Muse of Comedy! Thy mimic power plays on the lives of men, Thy smiling mask oft hiding purpose grave ; Thy keen shafts prick the bubble of the vain, .Shame base hypocrisy, and at thy laugh Things sordid shrink to naught. The merriment of life is thine, and oft Thou bringest men the tear wrapt in the smile. Hail, Muse of Comedy, Hail! Hail! Exit Thalia A HIGH PRIEST The Muse of Poetry crowns thee ! Enter Calliope and gii'cs the Scroll. (13) \ THE CHORUS Hail, Muse of Poetry ! The soul of all things dost thou find, And lo ! all things are beautiful, The shining green of hill and plain, The barren rock, the mountain rill. The raging torrent, and the roaring main. Lo! thou art there! The grosser life of man knows not of thee ; Thou ever art in him whose soul is pure ; And in that soul there lies thy noblest theme. The Infinite ! Kail, Muse of Poetry, Hail! Hail! Exit Calliope BOHEMIA To be but worthy these, is gift divine ! These sacred do I hold, To thy High Purpose consecrate Now and forever. A HIGH PRIEST Yet one more message have the Gods for thee ! Thy Lares welcome thee ! Spirits of those, whom, from Bohemia, The Gods have ta'en, and for their love of thee Lent to thee still, thy Watch and Guard ! A HIGH PRIEST Hearken ! they speak ! THE CHORUS OF THE LARES Though you no more behold us. no more hear Our voices echoing through the festal halls In song and jest and laughter; cannot know The love in which we left you still is yours, The Gods have willed that we our memories hold, Of all the glow and warmth of genial soul That is Bohemia ! Willed that for our love (14) We should around you hover evermore, Cluster about your hearth, j-our Household Gods ! Your revels and your moments of grave speech. The merry hour, the peace unspeakable, The ever kindly thought, the generous deed. We have our part in, though you know it not. Hold to these ever! Let no discord be. To mar Bohemia's loving harmonv ! Enter the Messenger of the Lares, bearing mantle. The High Priests inz'est Bohemia with tiie manth', on tlie breadth of zvhicli is emblazoned an owl. THE MESSENGER This gift thy Lares send, symbol of attribute. Nearest the Gods, Love of thv Fellowman ! THE ATTENDANT PRIESTS The Gods made life the sunshine; Care and pain but passing clouds. They ask no sacrifice ; better far they love Those who with garlands deck the shrine I THE I\1ESSEK13ER OF THE LARES With wreath of bay thy brows are crowned ; With gift of song thou art endowed: Thalia's mirthful mask is thine ; Still take thou heed of what they Lares send! Be thou but true ! Open wide thy heart to all the joys of life; Spare not the pleasures that the Gods may send ! Thy happy revelry can hold no strife With graver purpose ; all things work their end ! Forget not that, without thee, there is pain, And care forever hovers round thy door ; That sympathy bears sorrow in its train ; And others' woes but draw them to thee more ! (15) Within thee let the weary soul find rest, The saddened spirit lighten with thy cheer; Love of thy Fellowman, be that thy best And chiefest virtue, by the Gods held dear. Be thou but true! BOHEMIA So to the Will and Purpose of the Highest Good Is our Bohemia's Fane forever dedicate ! The Gods have said ! Apollo appears, Bohemia kneels before the shrine as Apollo croivns him ivith his fillet. THE PRIESTS W^ith fairest garlands wreathe Bohemia's walls, Let joy re-echo through Bohemia's halls, The paean raise ! Praise ye the Power Supreme, The Power Omnipotent ! Around whose throne the Universes swing In harmony sublime! Life infinite dwells in Him, And from his store He peoples the unnumbered worlds. Praise ye the Power Allseeing, who, on high, Men's lives through tortuous ways, Guides to His End, His End the Good ! Praise ye the Power Omniscient, Wisdom Absolute I W^hose law benign, If men but heed. Leads to immortal bliss ! With songs of joy Praise ye Bohemia's God, His Will be done ! (The End) ^RINTSD BY TOWM TALK PRKSB • 8 FIRST aTNKrr