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JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.COM "Where we celebrate the child in us all" |
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A "TWINTORETTE" IN THE MORNING PAPER To understand how James Whitcomb Riley conceived of himself, it would have helped to open up a Hoosier newspaper, The Indianapolis Saturday HERALD," on August 24, 1878. The citizens of Indiana found one of the strangest writings in all of literature on its page 6. What was it? The piece called itself a "Twintorette." What was that? As it turns out Riley was objectively writing about his subjective self, his "twin." Riley's twin turned out to be a complicated cast. No literary figure in history had attempted such a thing. The Twintorette was embedded in a column calling itself: "Respectfully Declined" Papers of The Buzz Club, Number IV. What was the Buzz Club? Who wrote it? The piece had a cast as a play does. Was it a play? Time revealed that the author of "The Flying Islands of the Night" was the young Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, very early in his career and long before fame settled upon him. In this "flight" lies the answer to Riley's poetry of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, the kenotic categories of expression of the spirit Kenotic poetry of which Riley’s is the most prominent in America is a poetry based upon theological principles of humility and dependence upon a Christ who as God took a fleshly form to save humanity. The "Christ Hymn" of Philippians is normative for kenotic analysis. It reads: "Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and give him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow..." Riley’s kenotic outlook was a birthright from Protestant frontier Methodist family. Hoosier German or Deutsch Methodism had embraced the kenotic outlook at the time of Riley’s youth. The first Incarnation theologians of the Nineteenth Century were the Germans: Thomasius, its founder, Neander, Dorner, Van Oosterzee, Pressense, Schneckenburger, Liddon, Uhlhorn, Edersheim, soon joined by such as J.P. Lange, and C.A. Ross. A primary text of the German inception is found in the Nineteenth Century lectures of Alexander Bruce, D.D, in THE HUMILIATION OF CHRIST and R.J. Cooke's THE INCARNATION AND RECENT CRITICISM. A more recent work (1965) is Claude Welch, GOD AND INCARNATION IN MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY GERMAN THOUGHT. An easy-to-read introduction to the subject is found in the OXFORD DICTIONARY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH, ed. by F.L. Cross under "Kenotic theories." Interesting variations of Incarnation Theology appeared concurrently in Germany such as Hegel's conception that the Incarnation was manifest in the human race in general and not in individuals. Even at the theological level, Incarnation Theology engaged the age's social Darwinism. SEE: Herbert Spencer's SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY, "First Principles," part 1, in which God is seen as an unknown and unknowable substratum of all phenomena rather than one known through human appearance. These should get started someone interested in Nineteenth Century theology such as became expressed popularly by James Whitcomb Riley's poetry. None of course explains the phenomenon of the Incarnation because, as theologian Edward Towne says, "What is a mystery if it can be dissolved away in an explanation?" "Kenoticism" is a more technical name for Incarnation Theology of the Nineteenth Century. It is an idea of "emptying out oneself." It derives from the Greek adjective "kenos" - the adjective used in the Philippian's "Christ Hymn" to describe Jesus's act of casting off pride, advantage and power to find satisfaction in a humble life. James Whitcomb Riley’s poetry finds its spirit in the “kenos.”
THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT
Marcus Dickey, the secretary of James Whitcomb Riley once wrote, "It was not the habit of the Hoosier Poet to explain. Again and again his friends saw him as through a glass darkly. At times he took conspicuous pride in concealing his thought and his way of doing things. My assumptions concerning him remained assumptions. The more his friends sought to know his history the more capriciously he concealed it." In the cryptic poem that follows Riley revealed his own life in the form of an autobiography with himself in his various "soul-selves" as the cast except for the woman who was his great encourager and "soul partner."
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY: THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT: A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO RILEY'S AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL POEM
It is a simple fact that James Whitcomb Riley tended to write out of his own experiences. There is not a single poem where Riley's fantasies are not based on some projection out of his life. Riley's prodigious imagination used himself always to create his poetry. If this is so, where does Riley's "The Flying Islands of the Night" fit in? It is certainly obscure at places. It stands out so in the body of his poetry like a sore thumb because of its length as well as its oddity. The only answer appears to be that Riley made it obscure for a reason. It was the most "personal" poem he ever wrote. The poem describes the groping of his own soul. It is the last rush of the madness from his impetuous youth. Then Riley sheltered his soul from criticism by obscuring his poetic expression of it. Riley's autobiographical poem (from age 28-but revised at intervals) originally contained two great themes and a minor one. The most important was Riley's "dark play" on his own dire alcoholism. The language is a combination of Middle English spiced with American folklore, and "intoxicatese" creating a fantastic and wildly "astronomically" extravagant imagery. The origins of all of this will be explained later. For now we need only remember Riley's fear of his alcoholism as its most basic theme. Riley portrays himself "married" to alcoholism personified as the "nasty" Queen Crestillomeem. Riley is first introduced as his minstrel self called Jucklet. This is Riley's "survival self" at the soul level. Jucklet has to live "underground" and he can only "peep out" when Crestillomeem permits. Riley lived by his wits and was often penniless during the period of his "minstrel wandering" twenties. Now he had begun consoling himself from tragic events in his life with overuse of alcohol. This poem tells us of the outcome of all of this. You will be very surprised. In "The Flying Islands of the Night" Riley must experience the effects of alcoholism. The "night" in the title is a reference to alcohol addiction. Riley's contempary of the related book FIFTEEN YEARS IN HELL, Luther Benson, says:"...From time to time until I tried to break the terrible chain...of intemperance, my life was one long, hopeless, blank, black night." Riley's alcoholism was his night too. He feared himself sinking into a "night" of depression, delirium and madness. The second great theme is Riley's groping for salvation from his alcoholism. As his mind turns to recollections of loving encouragement and true friendship he has known, he remembers Nellie Millikan Cooley, a married friend, who has just died in Illinois critical days before the poem was written. Nellie is the only other character in the original play which is not a Riley "personified personality breakdown." Nellie is "Dwainie" who tells the fearfully drunken Riley she will continue to encourage him and love him even though she is now dead. How can this be? Another surprise is in store! The version of "The Flying Islands of the Night" which follows was the original one. In a later expansion of the original play for a book, Riley adds his mother, Elizabeth as "AEo" as an encourager along with Nellie. Dwainie will eventually convince Riley in the poem that she is still encouraging him in spirit and this gives Riley the strength to produce the Godly poetry of "Spraivoll," the "tune fool" of Riley's cast of self-characters. A minor comical but tragic theme is the "Murphy" pledge that temperance ladies were requiring young men to sign at the time the play was written. This pledge committed a person not to drink intoxicants. Riley had recently seen how futile such a pledge was and enjoyed harpooning it. His brother, Hum (Reuben Alexander Humboldt Riley), took one as revealed in this letter to brother John Riley, in 1877:
Hum couldn't make it. Disastrous drinking soon followed. The Murphy pledge was a joke. Signing a pledge proved not a real commitment to anything. Hum became an alcoholic so severely that often he would disappear without word requiring his family to try to locate him wherever they could find him. In this same year Riley was dealing with his own alcoholism he saw what alcoholism was doing to his brother Hum. A letter contemporaneous to Riley's "The Flying Islands of the Night," reads:
Hum's fitful life continued. We know he was in Indianapolis in Feb., 1881, and wrote sister Mary to send him "his things" by express train in a telegram of Feb. 25th. Hum died November 24, 1881 at 5 a.m. at age 25 from severe hemorrhage of the bowels according to the Riley family Bible at the Riley Birthplace in Greenfield, Indiana. Someone noted underneath the entry "typhoid fever," but the suspicion is a complication of alcoholism. Hum's funeral was apparently on the Friday following. Hum isn't mentioned thereafter in family correspondence. Crestillomeem got his younger brother and now the alluring siren was after James Whitcomb Riley! The version of "The Flying Islands of the Night" which follows is the first one published. The poem seems an excellent point of departure for a biography of the poet's life. I apologize if "The Flying Islands of the Night" is sometimes hard to follow. Riley wrote it that way to cause it to be mysterious and secretive to protect his very fragile ego. Just remember that Riley was all the characters in the cast that follows except "Dwainie." Only a creative genius might conceive of himself in such an odd but imaginative way. This was James Whitcomb Riley. His poem continues into Three Acts which we will examine in greater detail as an aid in unraveling the knot of his life - a chapter per character at a time. Perhaps we should allow Riley to introduce his own autobiography as he did at his "Buzz Club" newspaper article - through Mr. Clickwad - one of the fictional members-who says of the piece: "This is an affliction," continued Mr. Clickwad, unrolling an enormous manuscript, "too great for me to bear alone, and I ask your succor and assistance as humbly and earnestly as ever beggar asked for alms."
THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT. A Twintorette. Dramatis Personae1 KRUNG.........................King of the Spirks CRESTILLOMEEM..........................The Queen SPRAIVOLL..........................The Tune Fool AMPHINE.............................Son of Krung DWAINIE.............................Of the Wunks2 JUCKLET....................................Dwarf CREECH, ) )........................Nightmares GRITCHFANG, ) Counselors, Courtiers, Etc. 1. The names of the characters have loosely evocative associative qualities. Krung is Riley's triumphant public reputation- or his hopes about it, a sober and rational personality in responsibility, success and empowerment. It is Riley as Cronus (or "Kronus"), the Titan, and "King." Spraivoll is the poetic "tune-fool" Riley. It is Riley the "Christ hymn" poet. The aspect of poetry has the feminine gender, as Calliope, the muse of poetry was feminine. Amphine evokes Riley as a lover like Amphion, son of Zeus and Antiope, who, in Greek legend, built Thebes by music of lute which he played so melodiously that the stones danced into walls and houses. Riley played the guitar and violin for romantic purposes. Dwainie is his inspirational friend, recently deceased at the time of the first writing of "The Flying Islands," Nellie Millikan Cooley, wife of George B. Cooley. "Dwainie" suggests the Old English word "Dwine" meaning waste away. Nellie was recently dead when "The Flying Islands" was first written in August 1878. Riley shared the author Thomas Chatterton's fascination with old English sounding names. Chatterton's writings were major inspiration for this poem. "Jucklet" the dwarf is Riley as self-admitted prankster but also Riley's survival self since Riley can only survive by his wits. The name evokes juggler from the Latin joculator, a jester, or joker in the Middle Ages. Jugglers of those days accompanied minstrels and troubadours and added entertainments to musical performances, e.g. sleight of hand, antics, feats of musing prowess and a staple of tricks. The form is in the diminutive just as Riley was small. The nightmares suggest interior aspects of creed for Creetch and dreads of novel encounters or depressive events where Riley is "greenhorn" and engaged or bitten as by fangs as Gritchfang. That the names are not entirely imaginative, but rather referential and elliptical is supported by some evidence. The poet in his 1898 edition of "The Flying Islands" added a footnote to additions to "Spirk and Wunk Rhymes," saying, "So, too, in numberless other aspects, must the reader's fancy freely-play- even as the writer frankly confesses his own has done,- in such particulars, for instances, as fancying the "ont-l-dawn-bird" of the Flying Islanders is our nightingale; their "trance- bird" our humming-bird; their "echo-bird" our mocking-bird, etc., etc., ad infinitum." 2. A wunk is a Hoosier folklore figure. It is not what it appears to be. It is like a ghost that can take on outward appearance at night of anything or anyone it wishes to. ACT I SCENE - THE FLYING ISLANDS Scene I. - Spirkland at Moondawn - Interior of the King's Court - A star burns dimly in the dome above the throne- Enter Crestillomeem. CRESTILLOMEEM. The throne is throwing wide its gilded arms To welcome me. The throne of Krung! Ha! ha! Leap up, ye lazy echoes, and laugh loud! For I, Crestillomeem, the queen - ha! ha! Do fling my richest mirth into your mouths That ye may fatten ripe with mockery! I wonder what the kingdom would become Were I not here to nurse it like a babe, And dandle1 it beyond the silly reach Of sycophants and serfs. Ho! Jucklet, ho! `Tis time my twisted warp of nice anatomy Were here to weave away upon our web - Of silken villainies. Ho! Jucklet, ho! 1."Dandle" is something like dangle and handle mixed up. (Lifts a secret door to the pave, and drops a star-bud through the opening. Enter Jucklet.) JUCKLET. Spang sprit1! my gracious queen, but thou hast scorched My left ear to a cinder, and my head Rings like a ding-dong on the coast of death! For, patient hate! thy hasty signal burst Full in my face as thitherward I came; But though my lug2 is fried to a crisp, and my Singed wig stinks like a little sun-stewed wunk, I stretch my fragrant presence at thy feet, And kiss thy sandal with a blistered lip. 1. "Sprit" is Chatterton's representation of the verb for "gives spirit" at "AElla," 2.1332. Chatterton, living in the century prior to Riley, wrote poetry which he fraudulently claimed was written by a monk named Rowley of the 15th Century. Chatterton sold these forgeries for income. The poetry was actually rather good and came to be much admired by Riley. There was no such monk as Rowley, of course, and Chatterton killed himself with arsenic at the age of 17 when his deception was discovered. 2. The external ear in this use. CRESTILLOMEEM. Hold! rare-done fool, lest I may call the cook And bake thee brown! How fares the king by this? JUCKLET. I left him sleeping1, but uncorked his nose, And o'er the odorous blossom of his lips2 I squeezed the tinctured sponge, and felt his pulse Come staggering back to regularity. And four hours hence his highness will awake and Peace will take a nap. 1. The setting is Riley sleeping off intoxication which becomes subject to delirium in Act II, with recovery in Act III. 2. "Liquor breath." CRESTILLOMEEM. Ha! what mean you? JUCKLET. I mean that he suspects our knaveries. Some traitor spy is burrowed in the court Whose unseen eye is ever focused fine Upon our actions, and whose hungry ear Eats every crumb of counsel that we drop In these our secret interviews -for he - The king - thro' all his talking-sleep to-day Has jabbered of intrigue, conspiracy, And treachery and hate in fellowship, With dire designs upon his royal self, To oust him from the throne. CRESTILLOMEEM. He spoke my name? JUCKLET. I never hear him speak but that thy name Makes melody of every sentence. Yes, - He thinks thou art as true to him as thou Art fickle, false and subtle! O how blind, and lame and deaf and dumb, and worn and weak, And faint and sick, and all-commodious His dear love1 is! 1. Riley's love of alcohol. CRESTILLOMEEM. Wilt thou wind up thy tongue Nor let it tangle in a knot of words! What said the king? JUCKLET. He said: "Crestillomeem - O that she knew this great distress of mine! For she would counsel with me, and her voice Would flow in limpid wisdom o'er my wounds, And, like an ointment, lave my hidden grief, And heal my bleeding heart;" and so went on Spinning the web of love in which he lies Bound hand and foot and buzzing helplessly. CRESTILLOMEEM. And did he drop no hint of his distress, And how, and when, and whence his trouble came? JUCKLET. He spoke as the tho' some woman talked with him - Full courteously he said: "In woman's guise Thou comest, yet I think thou art indeed But woman in thy form; they words are strange, And I am mystified! I feel the truth Of all thou hast declared, and yet so vague And shadow-like thy meaning is to me, I know not how to act to ward the blow Thou say'st is a hanging o'er me even now." And then, with open hands held pleadingly, He asked, "Who is my foe?" and o'er his face A sudden pallor flashed like death itself, As tho' if answer had been given it Had fallen like a curse. CRESTILLOMEEM. I'll stake my soul `Tis Dwainie1, of the Wunks, who peeks and peers With those fine eyes of hers in our affairs, And carries Krung, in some disguise, these hints Of our intent! See thou that silence falls Forever on her lips, and that the sight She wastes upon our secret action blurs With gray and grisly skum that shall for aye Conceal us from her gaze while she writhes blind And fangless as the fat worms of the grave. Here, take this tuft of downy druze, and when Thou comest on her, fronting full and fair, Say "Sherzham!" thrice, and fluff it in her face. 1. Nellie Millikan Cooley, Riley's beloved married friend, who died shortly before the publication of this piece. JUCKLET. Thou knowest little magic, O, my queen, But all thou dost is very excellent. And now for Amphine - he, too, doubtless, has Been favored with an outline of our scheme. And I would kick my soul all over hell If I might juggle his fine figure up In such a shape as mine. CRESTILLOMEEM. Then this: if thou Canst ever find him bent above a flower, Or any blooming thing, and thou canst slip Behind and reach it first and touch it fair, And with thy knuckle strike him on the breast, Then his fine form will shrink and shrivel up As warty as a toad's - so hideous Thine own will seem a marvel of rare grace, Tho' idly speakest them of mystic skill `Twas that which won the king for me - `twas that Bereft him of his daughter1 ere we had Been wedded for a month; she strangely went Astray one morning from the palace steps; And when the dainty vagrant came not back And all the spies in Spirkland in her quest Came straggling empty-handed home again Why, then the wise king wiped his rainy eyes And sagely tho't the little toddler strayed Out to the island's edge and tumbled off. I could have set his mind at ease on that; I could have told him when she tumble off. I tumbled her, and tumbled her so far She tumbled in another land, from which But one charm known to art can tumble her Back into this. 1. Spraivoll, Riley's poetic self, in this delirium tremens attack from alcoholic binge. JUCKLET. Ay, true enough, perhaps! But dost thou know that rumors float about Among thy subjects of thy sorceries? And if my counsel is worth aught to thee, Then have a care thy charms do not revert Upon thyself! CRESTILLOMEEM. Ha! ha! no fear of that While Krung remains - (She pauses abruptly, and a voice of exquisite melody is heard singing.) VOICE. When kings are kings, and kings are men - And the lonesome rain1 is raining - O who shall rule from the red2 throne then, And who shall wield the scepter when - When the winds3 are all complaining? When men are men, and men are kings - And the lonesome rain is raining - O who shall list as the minstrel sings Of the ermine robes and the signet rings when the winds are all complaining? 1. Rain most often refers to God's judgment on sinners in frontier American poetry. Such imagery often derives from scripture in this case possibly Ez. 38.22. 2. Red is the color of sin in frontier American Protestant folklore. This probably derives from Isaiah 1.18. The sin in this use would be the overuse of alcohol. 3. The wind is often a depiction of the operation of the Holy Spirit within the world in the same folklore tradition. John 3.8. In light of the imagery of Spraivoll's initial poem, we would suspect the answer to the poem's question is no one. CRESTILLOMEEM. Whence flows that sweetness, and whose voice is that? JUCKLET. The voice of Spraivoll if mine ears are tuned. CRESTILLOMEEM. And who is Spraivoll, and what song is that she sings? JUCKLET. Spraivoll, the Tune Fool is she called By those who meet her in her nightly rounds.1 She comes from Wunkland, as she so declares, And has been roosting round the palace here For half a moon. 1. Riley only wrote poetry at night. CRESTILLOMEEM. And pray, where is she perched? JUCKLET Under some dingy cornice1, like enough. She is no woman, tho' - and yet, indeed She is licensed idiot, and drifts About as restless, and as useless, too, As any lazy breeze in summertime. I'll call her forth to greet your majesty - Ho! Spraivoll! Ho! my plumeless bird, flit here! 1. Riley was writing most of his poetry at this time in a place he called the "Morgue," an upstairs space in row office buildings in downtown Greenfield, Indiana. (From behind a group of statuary Spraivoll enters.) SPRAIVOLL. (Singing1) Ting-along aling-ting! Tingle-tee! Ting-aling, aling-ting! Tingle-tee! The world runs round and round for me; Wind it up with a golden key Ting-aling, aling-ting! Tingle-tee! 1. Spraivoll's songs contain ellided and unintelligible words because, we remember, Riley cannot write poetry while he is intoxicated as he is in Acts I and II. Spraivoll does much better in Act III when she is "herself" or rather Riley "himself." JUCKLET. Who art thou, woman, and what singest thou? SPRAIVOLL. (Singing.) What sings the breene1 on the wertling-vine2, And the tweck3 on the bamner-stem4? The song they sing is the same as mine, And mine is the same to them. 1. Probably a brown wren. Under Chatterton's "Rowley" technicalities, any word that can take a terminal "e" does so. Riley's poem has elements of Chatterton "takeoff." 2. Wert, wyrt, wairt, wurt, wort (as in liverwort) refers to a herb in Middle English. A "wertling-vine" is possibly a herb-vine. 3. Probably suggestive of a "twaddling" (or silly) "peck" or "woodpecker" although the "tw" might refer to the Middle English twecche (twitch). 4. A "bamner-stem" is possibly a "runner bamboo stem" or some such. JUCKLET. Your majesty may be surprised somewhat, But Spraivoll cannot talk; her only mode Of speech is melody; and thou might'st put The gifted fool a-thousand questions, and In full return, receive a thousand songs, Each set to different tunes - as full of naught As space is full of emptiness. CRESTILLOMEEM. A fool? A fool, and with a voice so strangely sweet? A fool? JUCKLET. Ay, warranted! Around the world She walks unrivalled, and a queen of fools - Eh, Spraivoll? SPRAIVOLL. (Singing.) O, Aye! Tho' Spirkland has grown great In foolish ways, I ween Her greatest fool will intimate, He bows to me as queen. CRESTILLOMEEM. So! my Jucklet finds his peer! Come hither woman, and be not afraid, For I like fools so well I married one. And since thou art a queen of fools, and he A king, why I've a mind to bring you two Together in some way. Canst use thy tongue in such a wise thy hearer can but list? SPRAIVOLL. (Singing.) If one should ask me for a song And I should answer, then my tongue Would twitter, trill and troll along Until the song was done. Or should one ask me for my tongue, And I should answer with a song, I'd trill it till the song was sung And troll it all along. CRESTILLOMEEM. Thou art indeed a fool, and one I think To serve my purpose well. Give ear to me! And Jucklet, thou go to the king and wait His waking; then repeat these words: "The queen Impatiently awaits his majesty, And craves his presence in the Tower of Stars,1 That she may there express all tenderly Her great solicitude and" - there, say this: "So much she bade, and drooped her glowing face Deep in the shadows of her unbound hair, And with a flashing gesture of her arm Turned all the moonlight pallid, saying, "Haste!" 1. A "tower of stars" is the prison of his hopes for success. In Riley's personal symbolism, a tower is a place of bondage where one is made a prisoner. SEE: Contemporaneous Riley letter to the Cooleys and his beloved married friend, Nellie Cooley, dated October 28, 1877 "...take me your prisoner and `fasten me down forever in the round tower of your heart; and I'll never murmur for release till heaven dawns thro the gates." In Riley imagery, stars have to do with success. In a letter to his brother John of Nov. 16, 1874, Riley states, "In those dark hours (of drifting while a sign painter), I should have been content with the twinkle of the tiniest star." JUCKLET. And would it not be well to hang a pearl Or two upon thy silken lashes? CRESTILLOMEEM. Go! (Jucklet disappears.) Now fool, I'll furnish thee a topic for A song: A woman once, with angel in Her face and devil in her heart, had cause To breed confusion to her sovereign lord, And work the downfall of his haughty son - The issue of a former marriage, who Inspired her hatred from the very first; Thro' her the king is haunted with a dream That he is soon to die, and so prepares The throne for the ascension of the son. The woman now has won the husband's love, And by her craft and wanton flatteries Sways him to every purpose but the one Most coveted. And so, to serve that end She would make use of thee, and if thou dost Her will as her good pleasure shall direct. Why, thou shalt sing at court, and thy sweet voice Shall woo the echoes of the listening throne. At present does the king lie in a sleep Drug-wrought and deep as death - the after-phase Of an unconscious state in which each act Of his throughout his waking hours is so Rehearsed in manner, motion, deed and word Her spies may tell her of his very tho't, And should he come upon the throne to-night Where his wise counselors sit waiting him, Then has she cause to think her purposes Will fall in jeopardy; but if he fail, Thro' any means, to lend his presence there, Then, by a former mandate, is his queen Empowered with all sovereignty to reign And work the royal purposes instead. Therefore the queen has set an interview With him that will occur at noon to-night - One hour ere the time the throne convenes - And with her thou shalt go, and lie in wait Until she signal thee to sing, and then Shalt thou so work upon his mellow mood With that unearthly magic of thy voice - So dazzle all his serious tho't with dreams - The queen may, all unnoticed, slip away, And leave thee singing to a throneless king. SPRAIVOLL. (Singing.) And who shall sing for the haughty son While the good king droops his head? And will he dream when the song is done That a princess fair lies dead?1 1. If he is drunk, can he forget about his dead friend, Dwainie (Nellie) recently deceased? CRESTILLOMEEM. The haughty son has found his "song" sweet curse And may she sing his everlasting dirge! She comes from that near-floating land of thine, And with her fairer skin and finer ways, Has caught the prince between her mellow palms And stroked him flutterless. Didst ever hear Of Dwainie, of the Wunks? SPRAIVOLL. (Singing.)1 Ay, "Dwainie! My Dwainie!" The lurloo2 ever sings, A tremor in his flossy crest And in his glossy wings, And "Dwainie! My Dwainie" The winnow welvers call, But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. The teeper3 twitters "Dwainie!" The tcheucker4 on his spray Teeters up and down the wind And will not fly away; And "Dwainie! My Dwainie:" The drowsy oovers5 drawl; But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. O Dwainie! my Dwainie,! The breezes hold their breath; The stars are pale as blossoms, And the night as still as death; And "Dwainie! My Dwainie!" The fainting echoes fall; But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. 1. A poem of Riley's anguish over his separation from his great soul-mate, Nellie Cooley, so recently deceased. Spraivoll, Riley's poetic self, cannot reach Nellie; only Amphine, Riley's manifestation of love, can as we will soon discover. 2. Dwainie (Nellie Cooley) is evoked to Riley by an alluring but hidden spirit. "Lurloo" is a name in intoxicated onomatopoeia through formation of allegorical qualities rather than from animal sounds. The name probably derives from the archaic form "lure" in the sense of an enticement or allure and the loo which suggests a masking of an appearance as in the loo or mask a woman wore to avoid tanning her complexion. The fantastic bird creatures of "Dwainie" are spirits, a common Riley catachresis extending the obvious "bird" word into a proper poetic, as in "Song of the Rain." 3. Something which "tees" draws, tugs, pulls. Such a spirit twitters about Dwainie. Possibly a tree-toad which is said to "twitter" in Riley's poem "A Treat Ode" of roughly contemporaneous time. ("Scurious-like!" said the tree-toad, - \"I've twittered for rain all day...") 4. A tcheucker has the intoxicatese onomatopoeic ring of a squirrel's call. 5. oover suggests a compaction of "owl hooting overhead" giving its "hooooooooot." CRESTILLOMEEM. A melody ecstatic, and thy words Altho' so meaningless, seem something more - A vague and shadowy something, eerie-like, That makes me catch my breath all tremulous, But save thy music! Come, that I may make Thee ready for thy royal auditor. (Exeunt). ACT II Scene 2. - A garden of Krung's palace, screened from the moon and lighted with star flakes. An arbor, near which is a table spread with a repast. A fountain, near which Amphine sits thrumming a trentoraine.1 1. "Thrumming" is like strumming with his thumb. Trentoraine, is probably something like a "trembling instrument sounding like rain" or some such, most likely Riley's guitar with which he entertained Nellie on many evenings in his early twenties. AMPHINE. O warbling strand of silver, where, oh where Hast thou unraveled that sweet voice of thine, And left its silken murmurs quavering In spasms of delight? O golden wire, Where hast thou spilled thy precious twinkerings What thirsty ear ear has drained thy melody And left me but a wild, delirious drop To tincture all my soul with vain desire? O, Trentoraine, how like an empty vase Thou art - whose clustering blooms of song have drooped And faded, one by one, and fallen away And left to me but dry and tuneless stems, And crisp and withered tendrils of a voice Whose thrilling tone, now like a throttled sound Lies stifled, faint, and gasping all in vain For utterance. (Enter Dwainie1, unperceived) O empty husk of song, If deep within my heart the music thou Hast stored away might find an opening, A fount of limpid laughter would leap up And gurgle from my lips, and all the winds Would revel round me riotous with joy; And Dwainie in her beauty would lean o'er The battlements of night, and like the moon, The glory of her face would light the world, For I would sing of love, 1. Riley's beloved - and dead - Nellie appears in spirit. Riley elsewhere calls her his "truest friend on earth, or now in heaven" in a letter to Nellie's daughter, Mrs. Emma Cox, on April 10, 1885. He adds, "God bless us always with the sweetness of her memory!" DWAINIE. (Concealed.) And she would hear, And reaching overhead among the stars Would scatter them like daisies at thy feet. AMPHINE. O voice, where art thou floating on the air? O angel-soul, where art thou hovering? DWAINIE. I hover in the zephyr of thy sighs, And tremble lest thy love for me shall fail To buoy me thus forever on the breath Of such a dream as heaven envies. AMPHINE Then Thou lovest! O my angel, flutter down And nestle to the warm home of my breast So empty are my arms, so full my heart The one must hold thee or the other burst. DWAINIE. (Throwing herself in his embrace.) I think the hand of God has flung me here; O hold me that he may not pluck me back. AMPHINE. So closely will I hold thee that not e'en The hand of death shall separate us. DWAINIE. So, May sweet death find us, then, that, woven thus In the corolla of a ripe caress, We may drop light, like twin plustre-buds1, On Heaven's star-strewn lawn. 1. Buds which are purely lustrous. AMPHINE. So do I pray, But tell me, tender heart, as thou dost love, Where hast thou loitered for so long? For I have ordered merl1 and viands to be brought For our refreshment here, where all alone I might sip with thee words as well as wine. Why hast thou kept me so athirst, for I Am jealous of the very solitude In which thou walkest. (They sit at table.) 1. Merl is an alcoholic beverage, probably wine, and named after a fictional character of Riley poetry. SEE: Riley's poem of 1879, "To the Wine-God Merlus" (the "God" of "drink" who "blowest all my cares.") DWAINIE Nay, I will not tell, Since, if I did a thousand questions more Would vex our interview with idle tho't And speculation vain. Let this suffice - I talked with one who knew me long ago In dreamy Wunkland,1 talked of mellow nights And long, long hours of golden olden times When love lay like a baby in my arms. And life was like a tinkling toy. We talked Of all the past, ah, me, and all the friends That now await my coming and we talked Of many, many things, so many things That I forget them all in dreams of when, With thy warm hand clasped close in this of mine We walk the floating bridge that spans the gulf Between this isle of strife and gloom, and doubt, And my most glorious realm of joy and peace, Where summer-night reigns ever, and the moon Hangs ever ripe and lush with radiance Above a land were roses gloat on wings And fan their fragrance out so lavishly The winds dive out of heaven to bathe in it. 1. Earthly life. In Hoosier folklore, Wunkland persons are those who have been "wunks" on earth, personalities or selves or souls within shapes and sizes of humanity for homes. AMPHINE O empress of my listening soul, talk on, And tell me all of that rare land of thine, For even tho' I reigned a peerless king Within mine own, I think I could fling down My scepter, signet, crown and royal robes, And so walk naked down the path of life, If at the dwindling end my feet might touch Upon the shores of such a land as thou Dost paint for me. O tell me more of it, And tell me if thy sister-woman there Is like to thee - but nay! for it thou didst These foolish eyes would not believe - but thou Canst tell me of thy brothers. Are they great, And can they grapple with God's arguments, And cipher out the problems of the stars? DWAINIE. Aye, they have leaped all earthly barriers. `Twas Wunkland's son1 that voyaged round the moon, And talked with Mars, and buckled Saturn's belt; `Twas Wunkland's son that bent the rainbow straight. And walked it like a street, and so returned To tell us it was made of hammered shine, Inlaid with strips of selvedge2 from the sun, And burnished with the rust of rotten stars. `Twas Wunkland's son who comprehended first All grosser things, and took the world apart And oiled its joints with new philosophies; For now our goolores3 say, below these isles A million million miles are other worlds - Not like to ours, but round, as bubbles are, And like them, ever reeling on thro' space, And anchorless thro' all eternity; Not like to ours, for our isles,4 as they say Are living things that fly about at night, And soar above, and cling, throughout the day Like bats, beneath the rafters of the skies: and I myself have heard, at dawn of moon, A liquid music filtered thro' my dreams, As tho' a thousand trilling voices pent In some o'erhanging realm, had spilled themselves In streams of melody that trickled thro' the chinks and crannies of a crystal pave Until the wasted juices of harmony, slow-leaking o'er my senses, drowned my soul With ecstacy divine. And afferhaiks5 Who scour our coasts on missions for the King, Declare our island's shape is like the zhibb's6 When lolling in a trance upon the air, With open wings upslant and motionless. O such a land it is - so all complete In all wise habitants, and knowledge, lore, Arts, sciences, perfected government - In kingly wisdom, worth and majesty - So furnished forth in all things lovable, O Amphine, love of mine, it lacks but thy Sweet presence to make it a Paradise. 1. Riley seeks the soul within as rendering those in earthly bodies as "wunks" and the earth as we know it as "wunkland." Persons in the "beyond" will have activities including universal explorations, musical enjoyments, ministerial functions for God, etc. 2. Variant spelling of selvage, an edge of woven material which prevents ravelling out of the weft. 3. Probably an ellipse of "good lores" or "best books." 4. Riley confirms to us that "The Flying Islands" are lives that he lives at night. These are himself in fragmented souls or selves. 5. A haik is worn by an Arab explorer into the deserts. It is an outer cloth. "Afferre" is Latin meaning "to conduct inward." Afferhaiks may refer to functionaries in the universal sphere. 6. An inventive creature of Riley's vivid imagination possibly striped as a zebra and thus "ribbed" or some such. (Takes up the Trentoraine.) And shall I tell thee of the home1 that waits For thy glad coming, Amphine? Listen, then - 1. After describing the people of the "beyond" and their activities, Dwainie now tells Riley of the land itself in song in an imaginative fanciful vision in which Riley and Nellie can live together. Dwainie gives Amphine to know that their "heaven" is a garden-party. SONG A palace veiled in a gleaming dusk; Warm breaths of a tropic air, Drugged with the odorous Marzhoo's1 musk And the perfumed cynchottaire2; Where the trembling hands of the lilwing's3 leaves The winds caress and fawn, As the dreamy starlight idly weaves Designs for a damask4 lawn. Densed in the depths of a dim eclipse Of palms in a flowery space, A fountain leaps from the marble lips Of a girl with a golden vase Held atip on a curving wrist, Drinking the drops that glance Laughingly in the gleaming mist Of her crystal utterance. Archways looped o'er blooming walks That lead thro' gleaming halls; And balconies where the tune-bird talks To the tipsy waterfalls. And easements gauzed with a filmy sheen Of a lace that sifts the sight, While a ghost of bloom on the haunted screen Drips with the dews of light. Weird, pale shapes of sculptured stone, And marble nymphs agaze Ever in fonts of amber sown With seeds of gold, and sprays Of emerald mosses ever drowned, Where glimpses of shell and gem Peer from the depths as round and round The nautilus nods at them. Faces blurred in a mazy dance And a music wild and sweet, Spinning the threads of a mad romance That tangles the waltzer's feet: Twining arms, and warm swift thrills That pulse to the melody, Till the soul of the dancer dips and fills In the wells of ecstacy. Eyes that melt in the quivering ore Of love, and the molten kiss Bubbling out of the hearts that pour Their blood in the molds of bliss; `Tis worn to a languor slumber-deep, The soul of the dreamer lifts A silken sail on the gulfs of sleep, And into the darkness drifts.5 1. Possibly an ellipse of "martyrs of the Hoosiers" or such. 2. "Sin-choked air" or such. 3. Possibly "Littlest winged cupid" kind of thing. 4. A lawn of ornamental variegated pattern as is damask. 5. What kind of place is Riley heading as Dwainie tells him his destination? Is this overblown, sensation-sated place described with bawdy house parlor accouterments a delirium- evoked description of where Riley is really heading due to his alcoholism, i.e. hell? (The instrument falls from her hands; and Amphine in a gust of passionate delight, embraces her.) AMPHINE Thou art not all of earth, O angel one! I do not wonder me those eyes of thine, Have peeped above the very walls of Heaven! What hast thou seen there? Hast thou looked on God! And did he fling as bright a smile as thine Back to thee as he beckoned thee within? And tell me, didst thou meet an angel there Alinger at the gates, nor entering Till I, her brother, joined her?1 1. Riley's sister, Martha Celestia, born February, 1847, died as a baby in 1851, two years after Riley was born. DWAINIE Why, hast thou As sister dead? Truth, I have heard of one Long lost to thee - not dead? AMPHINE Of her I speak. She strayed away from us long, long ago, But I remember her - wondering eyes That seemed as tho' they ever looked on things We could not see, as haply so they did, For she went from us all so suddenly, So strangely vanished, that I of times think She found a pathway leading back to God, And bent her steps therein and slipped away Unseen of earthly eyes. DWAINIE Nay, do not grieve Thee thus, O loving heart! Thy sister yet May come to thee in some sweet way the fates Are planning, even while thy tear-drops fall; so calm thee while I speak of thine own self. And I have listened to a whistling bird That pipes of waiting danger. Did'st thou note No strange behavior of thy sire of late? AMPHINE Ay, he is silent, and he walks as one In some deep melancholy, or as one Asleep. DWAINIE And does he never speak with thee, Nor ask thy counsel? AMPHINE Once he stopped me on The palace stairs, and whispered, "Lo! my son, thy reign draws near - prepare!" and so passed on And vanished like a ghost - so pale he was. DWAINIE And didst thou never reason on this thing? Nor ask thyself "What dims my father's eye, And makes a sullen shadow of his form?" AMPHINE Why, there's a household rumor that he dreams Death lurks forever at his side, and soon Will signal him away.1 But Jucklet says Crestillomeem has said the leeches say There is no cause for serious concern; As so I am assured it is nothing more Than childish fancy; so I laugh, ha! ha! And wonder, as I see him gliding past, If ever I shall waver as I walk And stumble o'er my beard, and knit my brow, And o'er the dull mosaics of the pave Play checkers with mine eyes.2 Ho, ho! Ah,ha! 1. A possible subtle hint of a Riley suicide plan if he cannot get himself together enough to write poetry. SEE: the contemporary poem in Hoosier dialect, "Lines to an Onsettled Young Man." ("An' what is Death?" - W'y, looky hyur -\ Ef Life an' Love don't suit you, sir, \Hit's jes' the thing yer lookin' fer!"). At this point, Riley's poetry contains the theme of the relief from life that comes with nihilation. SEE the 1879 poem "Death," with its final line "Soh, bless me! I am dead!" 2. Riley is in a stupor and the fears he will die while intoxicated in tremens if he cannot come to. His intoxicated self, Crestillomeem, however, doesn't deter him from alcohol consumption. Riley notices himself tumbling about glancing in distraction as do checkers jumping about on a board, square by square. DWAINIE (Aside) How dare I tell him? Yet, I must - I must? AMPHINE Why, art thou, too, grown childish, that thou canst Find crazy pleasure talking to thyself, And staring frowningly with eyes whose smiles I need so much? DWAINIE Nay, rather say their tears, poor thoughtless prince! AMPHINE What mean you? DWAINIE Why, I mean, one hour agone, The queen, thy mother - AMPHINE Nay, say only "queen!" DWAINIE The queen, one hour agone, as so I learn, Sent message craving audience with the king At noon to-night, within the Tower of Stars. Thou knowest one hour later that the throne Convenes, and that the king has set his seal Upon a mandate that proclaims the queen Shall there preside if he do not appear.1 And therefore she, as I have been apprised, Connives to hold him absent purposely That she may claim the vacancy - for what Covert design I know not, but I know It augurs danger to you both. 1. If Riley can't get over his alcoholism, he will consign himself to a life as an alcoholic under Crestillomeem's control. AMPHINE I feel Thou speakest truth, and yet how know you this? DWAINIE Ask me not that; my lips are welded close, And more - since I have dared to speak, and thous To listen - Jucklet is accessory, And even now is plotting for thy fall - But, passion of my soul, think not of me, For nothing but sheer magic was avail To work me harm; but look thee to thyself! For thou art blameless cause of all the hate That rankles in the bosom of the queen. So have thine eyes about thee, that no step May steal behind thee ever - for in this Unlooked of way thy enemy will come. This much I know, but for what fell intent And purpose dire I dare not even guess; So look thee, night and day, that none may come Upon thee from behind. AMPHINE And thou, O precious heart! How art thou guarded, and what shield hast thou Of safety? DWAINIE Fear thou not for me at all; Possessed am I of wondrous sorcery - The gift of holy magic at my birth, My enemy must face me as he comes And I will know him at one utterance, And then I may disarm him tho' he be A giant and of thrice a giant's strength, But hist! What wandering minstrel comes this way? VOICE (In the distance.) The drowsy eyes of the stars grow dim; The wamboo roosts on the rainbow's rim, And the moon is a ghost of a shine: The soothing song of the crool1 is done, But the song of love is a sweeter one, And the song of love is mine. Then wake! O wake! For the sweet song's sake, Nor let my heart with the morning break! 1. Crooning oriole or some such. AMPHINE Some serenader, but what does he in The gardens here at glare of noon? Let us Conceal ourselves within the bower and watch. (They go within.) VOICE. (Drawing nearer.) The mist of the morning, chill and gray, Wraps the night in a shroud of spray, The sun is a crimson blot: The moon fades fast, and the stars take wing; The comet's tail is a fleeting thing, But the tale of love is not, Then, wake! O wake! For the sweet song's sake, Nor let my heart with the morning break. (Enter Jucklet.) JUCKLET Ho! ho! what will my dainty mistress say When I shall stand knee-deep in the wet grass Beneath her window, and with upturned eyes And swaying head, and all-melodious tongue Out-lolling like the clapper of a bell, Fling her a song like that? I wonder now If she will not put up her finger thus, And say, "Hist! heart of mine! the angels call For thee!" Ho! ho! Or will her blushing face Light up her dim boudoir, and from her glass Flare back to her a flame upsprouting from The red-hot socket of a soul whose light She tho't long since had guttered out - Ho! ho! Or, haply, will she chastely bend above - A parian phantom with its head atip, And twinkling fingers dusting down the dews That glitter on the tarpysma vines That riot round her casement, gathering Their blooms to pelt me with, as I below All winkingly await the fragrant shower? Ho! ho! how jolly is this thing of love! But how much richer, rarer, jollier Than all the loves is this rare love of mine! Why, my sweet mistress does not even dream I am her lover; for, to tell the truth, I have a way of wooing all my own, And waste no speech in creamy compliment, And courtesies all gaumed with winy words. In fact, I do not woo at all. I win! How is it now the old duct glides off? SONG1 How is it you woo? and now answer me true, - How is it you woo and you win? Why, to answer you true, - the first thing to do Is simply, my dear, to begin. But how can I begin to woo or to win When I don't know a Win from a Woo? Why, cover your chin with your fan or your fin And I'll introduce them to you. But what if it drew from my parents a view With my own in no manner akin? No matter, - your view is the best of the two So I hasten to usher them in. But stay! Shall I grin at the Woo or the Win? And what will he do if I do? Why, the Woo will begin with "How pleasant it's been" And the Win with "Delighted with you." Then supposing he grew very dear to my view? I'm speaking, you know, of the Win? Why, then you should do what he wanted you to, And now is the time to begin. The time to begin? O then usher him in - Let him say what he wants me to do! He is here - he's a twin of yourself, - I am Win, And you are my darling - my Woo. 1. An amusing song-poem of courtship and marriage in which Jucklet contemplates his hope of marriage with Dwainie (Nellie, already married of course.) One who "woos" is an object of courtship and one who "wins" gets married. When Jucklet says, "I am win" he is expressing his confidence that he can become a groom. The phrase is found in an early 1971 Riley courtship poem, the "Unexpected Result," as a "casual" phrase for the ritual of courtship and marriage. ("...If I were you/ I'd marry that woman, that's what I'd do,/ As certain as one and one make two!/ Or ain't you much on the marry now?/ Well, she's a mighty fat take anyhow!"/ "Well now, you can bet she ain't so slow,/ Hang it! I won't play off on her so!/ Where's my overcoat? I'm going to go!/ And you needn't sit up till I come in,/For I am right on the `woo' and the `win!'") That song I call most sensible nonsense; And if the fair and peerless Dwainie were But here with that sweet voice of hers, to take The part of "Woo," I'd be the happiest "Win" On this side of futurity! Ho! ho! DWAINIE. (Aside to Amphine.) What means he? AMPHINE. Why he means that throatless head Of his needs further chucking down between His ugly shoulders! (Starts forward, Dwainie detains him.) DWAINIE. Nay, thou shalt not stir! See; now the monster has discovered our Repast, so let us mark him further. JUCKLET. What! A roasted wheffle and a toe-spiced whum1 - Tricked with a larvey and gherghling's tail And, sprit me2! wine enough to swim them in! Now I should like to put a question to The guests, but as there are none, I direct My interrogatory to the host: Am I behind time? 1. A "wheffle" is probably something like a waffle and a truffle mix and a "whum" a wheat bun or some such. 2. Give me spirit. (Showing humbly.) Then I can but trust My tardy coming will be overlooked In my most active effort to regain A gracious tolerance by service now: Directing the attention to the fact That I have brought my appetite along, I can but feel - ahem! that further words Would be a waste of time. (Sits at table, pours out wine, and eats voraciously) There was a time When I was rather backward in my ways; But somehow, as I think I have outgrown The nice, shy age, wherein one makes a meal Of two estardles and a fork of soup. Hey, Sanaloo; but my starved stomach stands With mouth agape, awe-stricken and aghast Before the rich profusion of this feast; So will I lubricate it with a glass of merl And coax it on to more familiar forms Of fellowship with these delectables. (Pours out wine and holds up the goblet.) Mine host - thou of the viewless presence and Hush-haunted lip - thy most imperial, Ethereal, and immaterial health! Live till the sun dries up, and comb thy cares With star-prongs till the comets fizzle out And fade away and fall and are no more! (Drinks and refills the goblet.) And if thou wilt permit of the remark, - The gleaming shaft of spirit in this wine Goes whistling to its mark, and full and fair Zipps to the target center of my soul. Why, now, I am the veriest gentleman That ever buttered woman with a smile, And let her melt and run, and drip and ooze All over and around a wanton heart; And if my mistress bent above me now, In all my hideous deformity, I think she would look over, as it were, The hump upon my back; and so forget The kinds and knuckles of my crooked legs In this enchanting smile, that she would leap Love-dazzled, and fall faint and fluttering Within these open, all-devouring arms Of mine! Ho! ho! and yet Crestillomeem Would have me blight my dainty mistress with This feather from the Devil's wing, but I Am far too full of craft to spoil the eyes That yet shall pour their love like nectar out Into my own, and I am far too deep For royal wit to wade my purposes. DWAINIE. What can he mean. AMPHINE. I will rush forward and Tear out his tongue, and slap it in his face! DWAINIE. Nay, nay! It's what he says! JUCKLET. How big a fool - How all magnificent an idiot - I would be to blight her, when I have power To crush the only object that now lies Between her love and mine! Ho! ho! ho! ho! I wonder, when she sees the human toad Squat at her feet, and cock his filmy eyes Upon her, and croak love, if she wilt not Call me to tweezer him with two long sticks, And toss him from her path - O, ho! ho! ho! Hell bend him o'er some blossom quick, that I May have one brother in the flesh! (Nods drowsily.) DWAINIE. (Aside) Ha! See! Look, Amphine, he grows drunken; bide a spell And I will vex him with my sorcery1; Then will we leave him, for the hour draws on When all our arts and strategies must needs Be called in action. 1. The spirit of Nellie and her faith in Riley's poetic possibility invests Jucklet, Riley's survival personality, with awareness that his drunkenness may kill him. Jucklet yawns drowsily, stretches, and gradually sinks at full length on the sward.1 Amphine and Dwainie come forward. Amphine is about to place his foot contemptuously upon the sleeper's breast, but is held back by Dwainie, who motions him to turn away and hide his face; this time, she unbinds her hair, and throwing it forward over her face, and bending till it trails the ground she lifts to the knee her dress, and so walks backward round the sleeper, crooning to herself an incoherent song.2 Then pausing, letting fall her dress, and rising to full stature, waves her hands above the sleeper's face, and runs to Amphine, who turns about and looks upon her wonderingly. 1. A grassy surface. 2. A song of reminder of her faith in Riley which will soon combine with the terror of dementia tremens from his alcoholism to reform Riley and wake him out of the poem's delirium. DWAINIE. Now shalt thou look on Such misery as thou hast never dreamed. (As she speaks a chorus of unearthly voices is heard chanting to strange discord.) CHANT When the fat moon smiles And the comets kiss, And the Spirkland elves rejoice, The whanghoo twunkers1 A tune like this, And the nightmare nips the royce2: 1. "whanghoo twunkers" is possibly an ellipse for a wailing spirit evoking a "twang" or "plunk" sound. 2. Possibly an ellipse for "royal arse." (As these words die away, a comet-freighted with weird shapes, dips from the sky, and trails near the sleeper's feet, while from it two nightmares, Creech and Gritchfang, alight; the comet hisses, switches its tail and disappears, while the two goblins hover over Jucklet, who stares at them with starting eyes and horribly comforted features.) CREECH (To Gritchfang.) Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Flutter your wings like your grandmother does,1 Tuck in your chin, and wheel over and whir Like a dickerbug fast in the web of the wurr, Reel out your tongue and untangle your toes, And rattle your claws o'er the bridge of his nose; Tickle his ears with your feathers and fuzz, And keep up a hum like your grandmother does. (Jucklet moans and clutches at the air convulsively.2) 1. In Middle English mythology, the "nightmare" was a female monster supposed to settle upon people and animals in their sleep producing a feeling of suffocation or great distress from which the sleeper vainly tries to free one's self. The grandmother of nightmares would be the ultimate ancestral nightmare herself. 2. An account of Riley's "survival self" in tremens. AMPHINE (Shuddering) Most horrible! See how the poor worm writhes! DWAINIE But good will come of it, a far voice sings. GRITCHFANG (To Creech.) Let me dive down in his nostriline caves, And keep an eye out as to how he behaves; Fasten him down while I put him to rack, And don't let him flops from the flat of his back. (Shrinks to minute size, disappears in the sleeper's nose, and calls gleefully from within:) Lo! I have bored thro' the floor of his brains, And set them all writhing with torturous pains; And I shriek out the prayer as I whistle and whizz, I may be the nightmare that my grandmother is! (Appears, and assuming former shape, crosses to Creech, and they dance on the sleeper's stomach in broken time to chorus.) CHORUS Whing! whang! so our ancestors sang, And they guzzled hot blood and blew up with a bang; But they ever tenaciously clung to the rule To only blow up in the hull of a fool - To fizz and explode like a cast-iron toad In the cavernous depths where his victuals were stowed - When chances were ripest and thickest and best To burst every button-hole out of his vest. (They pause, float high above, and fussing together into a ponderous iron weight, they drop heavily upon the chest of the sleeper, who moans piteously.) AMPHINE (Hiding his face.) Ah! Heavens! take we hence! (Dwainie leads him off, looking backward as she disappears and waving her hands.) CREECH (To Gritchfang.) Zipp! Zipp! Zipp! Zipp! Sting his tongue raw and unravel his lip: Grope, on the right, down his windpipe, and squeeze His liver as dry as a petrified flea's. (Gritchfang bows, shrinks and disappears.) Throttle his heart till he's black in the face, And bury it down in some desolate place, Where only remorse in her agony lives To dread the advice that your grandmother gives. (The sleeper struggles convulsively, while the voice of Gritchfang calls from within.) Ho! I have clambered the rounds of his ribs, And riddled his lungs into tatters and dribs; And I turn up the tube of his heart like a hose And squirt all the blood to the end of his nose; I stamp on his stomach, and caper and prance, With my tail tossing round like a boomerang lance, And thus may success ever crown my intent To wander the way that my grandmother went. (Appears, falls hysterically in Creech's outstretched arms. They dance and chorus.) CHORUS Whing! Whang! so our ancestors sung. And they snorted and pawed, and they hissed and they stung, And they took a terrific delight in their work On the fools that they found in the lands of the Spirk. And each little grain of their powders of pain They scraped up and pestled again and again, And they mixed it in doses for gluttons and sots Till they strangled their dreams with abdominal knots. (The comet again trails past, upon which the nightmares leap and disappear. Jucklet staggers to his feet, glares frenziedly about him, and with a wild, unearthly howl of agony, rushes off.) ACT III Scene I. - Court of Krung -The royal ministers and counselors in session - Crestillomeem, in royal attire presiding - She signals to herald on her right, who steps forward - Blare of trumpets, greeted with loud murmurings and tumult from without. HERALD. Hist, ho! Ay,ay! Ay,ay! Her majesty, The all glorious and ever gracious queen Crestillomeem, to her most loyal, leal1 And right devoted subjects, greeting sends - Proclaiming, in the absence of the king, Her royal presence, as by him empowered To sit upon the throne in sovereign state And work the royal will. (Confusion) Hist, ho! Ay,ay! Ay,ay! And be it known, the king, in view of his Approaching dissolution - Hath decreed The reading of this royal document. 1. A Middle English word meaning "true." (Sensation among the counselors, etc. within and wild tumult without; cries of "Long live the king!" and "Down with the sorceress!") (Unrolls a scroll with royal seal attached. Sensation in court - wild tumult without, and cries of "Plot!" "Conspiracy!" "Down with the Queen!" "Down with the sorceress!") CRESTILLOMEEM. (Wildly) Bring me the traitor-knave who dares to cry "Conspiracy!" (Wild confusion without - sound of rioting, and a voice, "Let me be taken!" Enter officers, dragging Jucklet, wild-eyed and hysterical.) CRESTILLOMEEM. (Starting.) Why bring you Jucklet here? OFFICER. Because `tis he who cries "conspiracy!" And who incites the mob without with cries Of "Plot" and "Treason!" CRESTILLOMEEM. Ha! Can this be true? I'll not believe it! Jucklet is my fool, But not so great a fool that he would tempt His sovereign's ire. Let him be freed. Come here, My Fool. JUCKLET. (Wildly) Thy fool? Ho! ho! Why, thou art mine! (Confusion. Cries of "Strike down the traitor!") JUCKLET. Back! all of ye! I have not waded Hell That I should fear your puny enmity! But I will give you proof of what I say. (Presses toward the throne, hurling his opposers left and right. Crestillomeem sits as tho' stricken speechless, waving him off, while Jucklet folds his arms and stands before her.) JUCKLET. (To the throng) Lo! do I here defy her to lift up her voice And say this is a lie that Jucklet speaks. (The queen motions to officers, who, unperceived, close behind Jucklet.) And further - I pronounce the document1 That craven herald there holds in his hand A forgery - a trick - and dare the Queen Here in my listening presence to command Its utterance. 1. Probabaly an anti-temperance Murphy pledge to remain alcoholic rather to remain sober. CRESTILLOMEEM. (Wildly rising to her feet) Hold, hireling! traitor! fool! The Queen thou dost in thy mad boasts insult Will utter first thy doom. (Jucklet is seized from behind, and hurled, face upward on the dais at her feet, while a minion, with a drawn sword pressed against his breast, stands over him.) Ere we proceed With graver matters let this demon-knave Ben sent back home to Hell. Give me the sword - The insult has been mine - so even shall The vengeance be! (As she bends forward with the sword, Jucklet, with a super human effort frees his hand and with a sudden motion, and an incoherent muttering, flings something1 at the queen, who staggers, dropping the sword, and with her arms tossed wildly aloft, totters forward and falls prone upon the pave. In the confusion following, Jucklet mysteriously disappears, and as the bewildered and awe-stricken courtiers lift the fallen queen, a clear and piercing voice is heard singing.) 1. Sobriety which will change Riley from Crestillomeem's influence in drunkenness to Krung a respectable person in society. VOICE. The pride of noon must wither soon, The dusk of death must fall; Yet out of darkest night the moon Shall blossom over all. (For an instant a dense cloud envelops the throne, then slowly lifts, discovering Krung seated in royal state, with Jucklet in the act of presenting the scepter to him. Blare of trumpets, and chorus of courtiers, ministers, heralds, etc.) CHORUS. All hail! All hail! All hail! Long live the King! KRUNG. Thro' God's great providence, together with The intervention of an angel whom I long ago tho't lost to earth and me,1 Once more, as your sovereign, do I greet And tender you my blessing. Until late I have been subject of the baleful spells And witcheries2 of this poor woman here3 Who grovels at my feet, blind, speechless, and So stricken with a curse herself designed Should light upon hope's fairest minister. Remove her from my sight. 1. Nellie. 2. Intoxication. 3. Crestillomeem, Riley's drunken self. (As the queen is led away Spraivoll appears in royal attire. She kneels and kisses the king's hand; in return he kisses her upon the brow, and lifts and seats her at his side.1) 1. Spraivoll, Riley's "versifier" self can now write humble poetry. Behold in this sweet woman here my child, who, when a babe, The cold, despicable Crestillomeem - (He bows his head within his hands and shudders) By spells And wicked necromancies spirited To some strange real, where, happily A Wunkland princess1 found her, and undid The spell by a most potent sorcery2 She doth possess, God-given, to right wrong. Lo! let the peerless princess now appear! 1. "Dwainie-Nellie." 2. The power of encouragement and love. (He lifts his scepter, and a gust of melody, unearly beautiful, sweeps through the court. The star above the Throne drops slowly downward, bursting like a bubble on the scepter-tip, and issuing therefrom Amphine and Dwainie, hand in hand, full at the feet of Krung, who bends above them with his blessing, while Jucklet capers wildly round the group.) JUCKLET. Ho! ho! but I could shriek for very joy - For tho' fair Amphine even now bends o'er A blossom, I, ho! ho! have no desire To meddle with it, since with but one eye I slept the while she backward walked around Me in the garden. (Amphine laughs gaily, Jucklet blinks and leers, and Dwainie bites her |