The Sacred Drama of Eleusis Act I: The pain of Demeter

The stage represents the cave of Hecate. Large, dark rocks, barely illuminated by the pale light seeping in from the background.

Scene 1

Demeter, soon followed by Hecate. Demeter in a white peplos. A blue cloak studded with silver stars flows from her shoulders. She wears a diadem and a golden scepter. Her red-blonde hair is held back by sky-blue headbands. She enters hurriedly, holding a torch in each hand, and peeks into the background of the cave.

DEMETER:
Hecate, Hecate,
Where are you?
She too seems hidden.
Will she refuse to answer me
Like the others I asked?
Appear, O Hecate!
The anxious call of the mother of the gods
Let it not be worthless to you.

HECATE slowly steps out from the back of the cave. She wears a peplos trimmed with golden dragons and a red cloak. Her black hair falls in untangled rings onto her neck. She holds a caduceus in her hand, whose two intertwined and staring snakes seem to be formed of fire. She is beautiful, but her eyes shine with a frightening curiosity, and the enigmatic smile of the ancient statues wanders across her mouth:
It is the queen of the world,
Who calls me plaintively.
I hasten to follow the voice.
For the first time,
Demeter appears in my cave.
What command does
The high goddess give me?

DEMETER:
Daughter of Twilight and Night,
Until today I avoided your lurking gaze,
Which through the wasteland alone can find the way
To the Empyrean.
But today, in desolation, I must
Beg for the help of the one who always fled.
I allowed Persephone, my daughter,
To play with the nymphs,
Persephone, my daughter,
So that with Okeanos' children
She might pick hyacinths and irises.
Believing her to be happy, I ascended again to the Empyrean,
Surrendering myself to joy
In those floods of rays,
Which are not subject to the changing of the seasons.
But suddenly, through the spheres of ether,
A cry of lamentation echoed
In my maternal heart.
It was Persephone's voice.
As if she were suffering violence,
So sounded the terrible cry.
And three times it repeated
The terrible cry of pain,
Shaking me to my core,
Then lost in the abyss.
Seizing these two torches
I hurried down to earth,
Searching in all directions and,
Filling with my cry
The vast mountains.
All the gods should hear
The oath that escaped me!
But all remained silent to me.
Even Helios, to whom nothing is hidden,
He too owed me an answer.
Does such a horrible secret
Hide itself from my knowledge, that no one
Dares to answer the anxious question?
So tell me, O Hecate, what has happened.
You are familiar
With the crooked paths that, lying in wait,
You see as a cunning scout
In Zeus' hidden intentions.
From the enigmatic smile
On your face
I can see that
You know the solution.

HECATE:
I know it
And you shall learn it too.
But first swear to me:
Not to curse the messenger
Of the misfortune that has befallen you.

DEMETER:
I will promise you
The most beautiful gifts of light,
I swear it faithfully by the Styx.
And Demeter shall become a friend
To the savior
Of anxious, heavy doubt.
For once I know where Persephone is,
Finding her and bringing her back
Is something a mother's heart surely understands.

HEKATE:
Pluto has stolen your daughter,
With the consent of Zeus,
Lord of heaven and earth.
Your husband himself has given her to him as his wife.
her to him as his wife.

DEMETER drops her two torches, which go out:
Kidnapped by Pluto,
The king of Hell.
The only place is the one
That I must be denied
Entry to.
She settles down on a rock; her head sinks onto her chest.

HECATE:
You should consider that
Hades is not unworthy
As your daughter's spouse,
Zeus's exalted brother
And king of countless riches!
With a sure eye, I can
Trust you that joyless
The abyss is wrongly
Called.
To be the queen of the dead
Is better than the servant of the gods.

DEMETER without changing her posture:
In the realm of the dead, the immortal
Damned, defiled
The pure virgin
In Pluto's consuming arms!
In her eyes, erased
The memory of heavenly joys;
In her eyes, bright as
The star-like narcissus,
Which closed and opened again under my kisses,
Reflecting the full starry sky.
Separated from my daughter!
O pain that never fades,
O horror that never dims!
To visit the lofty Olympus
Is now forever denied me.
The horror of the abyss fills me,
From which that one feeds.
I would break the mighty structure
Of the universe,
If I could direct
My husband's lightning bolts
With my hand,
Thus forcing my daughter's return.
I want to cast off
This heavenly sign!
To be a desperate mother
Is also my fate.
She tears the sky-blue headband from her head and throws it to the ground.

HECATE:
Sublime Demeter,
Where will you live on?

DEMETER:
The miserable humans shall
Be my companions.

HECATE:
In which land?

DEMETER:
Where freedom dwells.

HECATE:
And which people
Shall take you in?

DEMETER:
Those who call boundless pride
Their own.

HECATE:
In which home?

DEMETER:
Where it is most miserable.
I want to weep immortal tears
There and defy
The lord of lightning,
Who has become the cowardly helper
Of the wicked brother.
I want to learn from you,
Where I must turn,
To find the freest land,
The proudest people and saddest house.

HECATE:
In the land of Attica,
Not far from the rock of Pallas,
A suilles, hospitable shore,
Protected by the mountains of Megara
And by the white belt of Okeanos,
There you will find what you seek.
Eleusis is its name.
The rough waves crash
To the gentle murmur
Of the sky-blue Nereids,
To the cheerful breath
Of Zephyr.
A free people live there,
Filled with a sense of justice,
Diligently devoted to their work in the fields.
They look up to you with reverence
And call you the nourishing earth.
The golden ears of corn and the bountiful harvests
They chose as protection against
The scorching gaze of Helios.
A family lives there in mourning.
King Keleos was their head,
He has just entered the realm of death.
Metanira weeps for him,
The widow, with three daughters
And Triptolem, the son,
Who loves only his horses and the plow.
Still too weak
Is the heir of the great king,
To protect the orphans.
Grief, silence, and fear reign,
As if the ruler's proud home
Had been turned into a tomb.

DEMETER:
At this gate, Demeter begs for entry;
This hearth
Shall grant refuge to the mourners.
I only need your assistance,
So that I may change my form
And wear the mask of a wandering,
Decayed old woman.

HEKATE [smiling]:
That this, O venerable goddess,
May succeed, Hecate's
Skillful hands shall willingly serve.
To weave varied masks,
To change form into form,
Has always been my calling.
To weave a fine garment
For the beings who descend from the moon
To earth, and to take it
From them again when
They must find their way back
To Uranus, all this is the responsibility
Of the queen of transformation.
The great goddess shall
Not lack the fruits
Of the art she has often practiced.
Follow me into the depths of my cave,
And through the power of the serpent staff
Your godly glory shall vanish.
This youthful, beautiful face of a god
Ruinous with deep furrows
Shall appear to the gods
And humans, unrecognizable to all.

DEMETER:
Thus, with shameful masks,
The immortals must disfigure themselves,
The goddesses must humiliate themselves.
But only thus may the tears
Flow from this broken heart.

Hecate and Demeter disappear into the background.

Act 2

The scene depicts the interior of the palace of Keleos in Eleusis. To the right and left are Doric columns. In the background is a niche, similar to the cella of a temple, with the house altar, on which a fire that has almost gone out glows under the ashes. Metanira sits in mourning on a chair. Her three daughters, dressed in mourning robes, are grouped on the steps of the altar. On the right and left, Phaino and Kallirhoe have placed their libation urns on the ground; half-lying next to them, they embrace them with their arms and their loose hair. Rhodope, sitting in the middle, holds her urn on her knees and ponders.

KALLIRHÖE:
O father, King Keleos,
Before dark death
Stole you from this house,
Festive joy shone
Within its walls. Lively
They moved beneath the sacred olive tree,
In honor of Artemis and the Graces,
The daughters.
You have left us.
And when we poured holy water
On your grave
And called your name,
No answer came to us
From the dark place.

PHAINO:
O dearly beloved father,
In the evening at the cheerful feast
I was so often granted
To bring you
The cup wreath-bound with vines,
Filled with pure wine.
And then I was allowed to hear
How you called me the light of your eyes,
Which resembled the gentleness
Of the mild dawn,
From which the wonders of the day are born.
Now we have laid the blanket
Of grass and flowers
On your grave,
And prepared fruit and cake
Prepared for the funeral feast.
Your smile was missing,
Which we usually enjoyed.
The tears that now flow
From my eyes, do they reach you?

RHODOPE:
O father, what manner of existence
Is yours now?
We gave you to the fire
With weapons and clothes,
And your ashes are in the urn,
Which rests in the depths of the grave.
Your weary shadow, where is it?
Whether it dwells in the grave,
Whether it wanders around on earth?
Only the eerie beings
Of the shadow realm know that.
But we do not want to neglect
The sacred customs
Which have been prescribed,
To honor the dear dead.

METANIRA:
There are tears in their eyes,
But in my heart there is anger.
They plead to vain shadows,
But I am consumed by the desire
To lend strength to the living.

Scene 3

The same, Triptolemus, an eighteen-year-old ephebe; he holds a horse's bridle in one hand and a lance-shaped spike in the other. His demeanor is serious and modest.

METANIRA:
Where have you been?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
At my father's grave.

METANIRA:
How did you spend your time?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I tamed a horse
And plowed my field.

METANIRA:
So you don't know
That today there is a public assembly in the Agora
And that a new king
Is to be elected in Eleusis?
The father's successor must
Be the son, by the will of the people.
But no one will elect you
If you do not appear before the people
To speak and demonstrate
The strength that belongs to your youth,
Promising to bring them
To the goal of their desires.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I will not beg
For the favor and votes of the people.
I have proven my strength
And my justice in battle
Through words and deeds.
I am known to those
Who are to choose their leader.
If they find me suitable
Without influence, then I will
Hold my father's office.
Otherwise, let another
Take up the crown's adornment and burden.

METANIRA:
They will choose their uncle,
And when Dolikos is first elected
King, he will
Rob us of our possessions
And chase us from the house
Where our father's sacred service
Has been performed for a long time.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
He shall seize
The city, the throne, he shall
Deprive me of the place
Where my father stood;
He cannot wrest the plow from me
And he must also
Leave me the clod
On which the plow works.
Only if a god calls me
Will I be king of Eleusis,
I swear this twice.

METANIRA:
O foolish man! You do not know
What gratitude means.
O woe, woe!

4th scene

The same. Demeter appears disguised as an old woman, bent over and wrapped in a gray cloak, a staff in her hand. She stops at the door and stretches out her hand imploringly toward the hearth. Triptolemus remains motionless, leaning on his spear. The three young girls rise.

METANIRA still seated end:
The stranger, who is she? Phaino:
Bent with age, an old woman.

KALLIRHÖE:
But of noble stature.

METANIRA:
She seems to have come to beg. Praino:
She lacks the strength to walk!
Allow us to lead the poor woman into the house,
O mother.

KALLIRHÖE:
Exhausted by hunger and thirst,
She is surely exhausted.

RHODOPE:
And even harder to bear
Than the pain in her limbs
Seems the misery in her heart.

METANIRA:
I cannot love
The strangers who silently
creep into our hearth,
Hiding their dishonest intentions.
One cannot know which enemy
Sent them to harm us,
And what misfortune lurks
In the folds of their cloaks.
I ask you, strange woman,
Whether you have a message to bring
Or a favor to ask.
I will only allow you to stay
If you will speak
Of those who sent you.
If you refuse, then
Do not enter my house.

Demeter stretches both hands toward the hearth, then brings them back to her face and seems to sob silently.

PHAINO:
She is asking for shelter.

Metanira remains motionless and silent.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
In the name of the great Zeus,
Who is hospitable to all exiles,
You shall be welcomed, O stranger,
Into this house, whether known,
Or unknown your name may be.

The three sisters try to support Demeter and lead her to the hearth to a chair, on which she slowly settles, with her head bowed, in a posture of hopeless grief. Triptolemus lays aside his bridle and spear, takes a cup of wine, and hands it to Demeter.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I offer the cup to the stranger,
Who is noble and venerable to me.
Quench your thirst and be our guest.
If you wish to speak afterwards,
We will listen to your words.
But even if you remain silent and
your misfortune remains hidden,
no less sacred shall
your restrained pain be to us.

Demeter takes the cup and drinks a sip under her veil; then she hands it to Triptolemus, folds her hands in gratitude, and sinks back into herself.

METANIRA:
Now that you have become our guest,
And this roof protects you,
It is only right and proper
For you to tell us
Where you come from and who you are,
In which country you live
And by what fate you were forced
You fled to this shore.

DEMETER raises her head slightly and speaks in a majestic voice that contrasts with her rags:
I come from Crete.
There I lived in a house
Built of marble and
Adorned with precious gold.
For I was entrusted with the care
Of a king's children.
Blessed by the grace of the gods,
I myself was given a daughter,
Who was as delicate as a deer
And as gentle as a nymph
In the forest.
A robber stole my precious child.
Wandering from shore to shore
Has been my fate ever since,
Searching in vain
For a trace of the lost one.
Many years have passed
In this homeless life,
And old and powerless is
The heart that beats without comfort for me.
Will you take me into your house,
O Meuanira: I will faithfully care for your daughters,
teaching them
to weave beautiful fabrics
on ivory looms,
and other arts of value.
The mysteries of the royal palaces
Are all familiar to me.
The balms are also known to me,
Which heal black pains.
The magical herbs on Mount Ida,
To which Zeus descended,

At the name of Zeus, a slight flame flares up

Are not hidden from my knowledge.
They can bring healing to all,
Except to me, the healer.

PHAINO:
How gentle is the voice
Of the sufferer, how mysterious.

CALLIRHOE:
It resembles the lyre,
Which sounds plaintively in the temple.

RHODOPE:
The words she speaks,
Are like those from the mouth of a queen.

METANIRA:
Like a message from a king's daughter
Your words sounded, stranger,
And therefore you shall be welcomed
Into this noble house,
Which we may not be able to call ours For much longer.
For you must know that Dolikos
Wants to snatch from his son
The sacred office that for so many years
Has been held by his worthy father.
O woman, experienced through age,
And wise, you artist
Of speech, remain alone
With my son for a while,
To teach him caution,
So that before all the people
He may desire his father's crown.

DEMETER
Yes, I will speak to him.

METANIRA to her daughters:
A meal shall be prepared
For the stranger, and Triptolemus
Shall stay with her.
Meanwhile, I myself will endeavor
To find the ear
of the old men of the council.
She exits with her three daughters.

Scene 5

DEMETER:
What dark sorrow weighs
on your young brow,
my Triptolemus?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
My father has died.

DEMETER Consider that it is less painful
For a son
To lose his father
Than for a mother to lose her daughter.
And direct your lament
your lament to the gods?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I accuse no one,
For I suffer no other fate
Than all others.
Even more cruel is death
To those who have passed away than to those
Who must remain behind.

DEMETER How do you know this?

TRIPTOLEM in a low voice:
One evening, as I was commemorating the rite
that Pluto loves,
I slaughtered a lamb
on Keleos' grave,
Invoking his soul.
In the smoke of the black blood
I saw the shadow rise,
Pale and terrifying.
Through the heavy mist
I heard the words he spoke to me:
"Only a shadow, driven about,
Unfortunate and tormented
By images of horror ...
For Pluto's heart is relentless.
He shrouds in deep darkness
Those who in life
Have devoted themselves
To lust and senseless pleasure.
If no immortal genius protects
The dead, they can live
Only by the love
Sent to them by the living.
We must scatter
Like vain smoke down here,
Abandoned by them.
In night and terror I must
Wander around, a shadow,
Chased by other shadows,
A terrifying image that
Must be horrified
By other images of terror ...
Only you, Triptolem, my son,
You could give me
The peace of Elysium.“
”I am ready to do so,“
I said to him,
”But how can I
Reach you?" Pale
The shadow then appeared,
And sighed: “O forget me not,
My son,
For I must suffer, suffer.”
Then the shadow image disappeared.

DEMETER aside:
O terrible realm of Pluto.
Persephone banished to it.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
You seem agitated to me.
Your hands tremble
on your staff.
Through your veil,
I can see your tears.
What is wrong with you,
O woman in pain?

DEMETER in a dull voice:
O tell me, what did you manage
To do for your father's
Damned shadow?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I crowned his grave with flowers
And then turned
Back to the plow.
Calling upon the great Demeter,
I tilled the field
And scattered the seed.

DEMETER:
Why did you call upon
Demeter?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I do not know her,
But she is called the greatest
Of the goddesses
And mother of the gods.
Is she not the one who dwells
In heaven and rules the earth?
And grain and flowers,
Do they not flourish through her powers?

DEMETER:
But on what can you base
The opinion that she can redeem
The soul of your father?

TRIPTOLEMUS:
It is she who spreads a blanket
Over Mother Earth,
Who has taken up these
The seeds from the hands of men.
But with the warm breath
Of spring,
The green tips appear,
Which then ripen
And become golden ears!
But who can awaken
The golden fruit into existence,
Who can call to new life
Even the souls that
Have descended into the realm of the dead.
This has been proclaimed by hope,
Which sang above my head,
Like the lark above the furrow.

DEMETER trembles and looks at Triptolemus with emotion.
Aside:
How beautiful is
The proud young man!
In his bold hope
He appears more glorious to me
Than all the Olympian gods
In their serene tranquility.
It is the soul of a hero
In his breast, and worthy
He is without doubt
To be a god.
If Jupiter without my help
Created Athena, the wise:
I too must succeed
In forming a god
From a virgin
Ephebe!
[She sits up abruptly.]
It is my will that he become immortal,
For he can only repay
Me with my daughter.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
O strange exile, what has come over you,
That in your thoughts
Your age falls away,
And sparks fly from your peplos
And torches
Ignite behind your veil?

DEMETER sits down and resumes the posture of an old woman:
It is only the reflection of the hearth,
Reflected in my dress,
And fiery appear
The tears you shed
In the pain of a mother.
But come closer to me.
And hear what I have to say.
I have learned much, and
Secrets are known to me,
And many a remedy
Revealed by the age
Of the good sorceress,
Who now stands before you.
You weep over your father's
Damned soul, but I
Mourn the lost daughter.
I will vow to you
that your father's soul
shall be freed from
the dark realm of the abyss,
if your mighty strength
will snatch the daughter
from the robber who
has chosen her as his prey.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
I will not hesitate,
Once I recognize
The robber who has inflicted such
Unjust suffering upon you.

DEMETER If you recognized him,
The courage in your soul would not be enough.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
Who, like me, can tame wild horses
And subdue
The raging beasts
Of the mountains with his spear,
He will not shrink back
From such a robber either.

DEMETER:
Know then that my daughter is dead
And that Pluto is the robber.
So you must take the risk
Of descending
Into the dark realm of Tartarus.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
The appearance of shadows
The appearance of shadows
Is frightening for those
Who love the realm of light.
I will descend
To hell, if you open
The gates for me.

DEMETER:
You dare to do so without
Knowing whether a return
will be granted?

TRIPTOLEMUS solemnly and calmly:
What does it matter? I will call
The great Demeter
On my father's
Consecrated field, where
The grain sprouts.
I know that my call will penetrate
My call will reach her
Even in the depths of Uranus.

DEMETER:
O noble blood, you young lion,
Nourished by a woman's milk!
The piety of the child,
It lives in your heart;
From your lips flows
The honey of the wise,
From your eyes sparkles
The flame of heroes.
Like a mother, I must
Love you. More than
A human being, I want to
Call you my son
I want to recognize in you.
And I want to reveal to you
Secrets, hitherto strictly hidden
From the minds of men.
I want to tell you what
Hides the heights and what
The depths, I want to tear
The blindfolds from your eyes.
Small in power shall be
Compared to you in power
The kings and rulers of the earth.
The divine Eumolpians
I will teach you to sing.
And you shall mark
The paths that lead out
Of these worlds.
And despite Tartarus,
Despite the treacherous humans
And even the almighty Zeus,
The day will come
When you will bring my daughter
Into the heavenly light
On Hecate's fiery serpent chariot.
May fate determine Triptolem
To be the man
Consecrated to agriculture and
the most divine hero of the gods.

TRIPTOLEMUS:
Who are you, mighty mother,
demanding more reverence from me
than my own mother?

DEMETER You will learn in time.
But now my art shall
Make you invulnerable
For your terrible work,
Which shall bring me immeasurable
Salvation.
With my hands
I will forge for you
The armor that, ethereal
And unbreakable at the same time,
Will enable you to pass through
The gates of hell and heaven,
And the wild demons that lurk
Eagerly in that dark place
Will not be able to harm you.

She touches Triptolemus' arms and chest with her hands. A vivid light shines forth from Demeter's caresses, and Triptolemus appears radiant, gazing ecstatically into the goddess' eyes. Flames and lightning sparkle around them.

6. Entrance

The same. Metanira, Phaino, Rhodope, Kallirhoe.

METANIRA:
Help! Fire is coming out of the palace!
Cursed evil sorceress!
This is how you thank me for letting you stay at my hearth!
I let you stay at my hearth! May the triple Hecate destroy you
And the fire you have kindled.
You were sent by our enemies, by Dolikos,
To strike our son with blindness
And bring upon us The curses of the people.
The son with blindness,
And to bring upon our heads
The curses of the people.
Be gone, abominable witch!

At Metanira's last word, the flames suddenly disappear, the hall darkens, and the hearth goes out. But Demeter, throwing back her veil and her old woman's cloak, suddenly appears radiant with her divine countenance. The staff she held in her hand turns into a burning torch.

METANIRA:
Who is it from the immortal realm
who is playing games
with us? Broken
are my powers.

She falls to the floor as if shattered, her head resting on the chair, her face hidden in her hands.

THE THREE DAUGHTERS sinking to their knees:
Have mercy on us, great Zeus!

TRIPTOLEMUS still standing upright and lost in his ecstasy:
Who stands before me, O goddess?

DEMETER:
I am Demeter, myself,
The goddess.
Turning to Metanira, in a calm and majestic voice)!:
Not benevolent
To the stranger and the exile
You encountered. Unconsciously
At that moment
Was your mind, O woman,
That in the form of misery
And in the mask of rags
The unknown gods appear,
Hiding themselves thus beneath tears.
But because, unlike yourself,
Your daughters received me with kindness,
And because
You are the mother of this son,
Demeter forgives you.
But I cannot prevent
The battle that will rage between
The children of Eleusis and those
Who are like yourself,
Will flare up as the fruit
Of the unloving greeting
That has come to me through you.
But you, O son of Keleos,
I will love you,
As I love my daughter,
Whom you will snatch from me
By the dark power of hell.
And now go to the Agora,
To tell the people: Demeter,
The goddess, sends the command,
To build a temple
Where the hill of Kallikoros
Rises to Eleusis.
I will appoint you
As my high priest
And you shall surpass
In glory the kings
Who were your ancestors.
There I will initiate you
Into my mysteries,
Teach you for the work,
That heavenly springs shall
Open up to mankind
In the sanctuary at Eleusis.
Consecrated shall be that temple
To Demeter and Persephone,
The sorely deprived.
She disappears.

METANIRA stands up angrily; to Triptolemus:
Through you I have lost
The king's mantle
And the honor of my age.
I will therefore curse you.
You shall be forbidden
To call me mother.
The three kneeling sisters rise and approach their brother curiously. They place their hands on his shoulders and murmur in trembling voices:
Persephone, who is she?

TRIPTOLEMUS has been standing pensively, his hands crossed over his chest, since Demeter's disappearance. When his sisters ask him the question, he solemnly raises his right hand and replies:
It is the goddess
We must free,
So that we may attain
Our own freedom.