Goat Song
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Full details of the production can be found here. The play was also commissioned by Shropshire Youth Arts in conjunction with Drama and English teachers from 12 Secondary Schools in Shropshire. The aim was to write a piece for young people, which could be used in a variety of ways in the schools, and was deliberately challenging and "difficult". I decided to take an ancient story and deal with it in a modern way, and through that story to present themes that were at once contemporary and eternal. And I wanted the language of the play to reflect this tension between the contemporary and the archaic, so I employed a number of dramatic language-forms throughout the play, juxtaposing them, in the same way that I tried to juxtaposed the serious and comic elements. Almost against all the odds, the play seemed to work, and its first production, by Shrewsbury Youth Theatre, was an extremely successful one, due in large part to the talent and energy of the cast, and the imagination and vision of its director, Bec Large. It was later published by Nelson Thornes, and for many reasons, remains one of the plays I'm most fond of. The play is based in part on the Greek myth of Dionysos, whose vitality brings both joy and terror to human beings, leaving us with the dilemma of how to reconcile the two. In the story, the young Dionysos, having discovered how to make wine, goes out to take his new invention to the world. His first stop is the home of a poor goat-herd, Icarius, his wife, Metaneira, and their daughter, Erigone. The effect on their lives is instantaneous, and leads to outcomes they can't possibly imagine. |
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| DIONYSOS: |
And now you all know who I am, Half-god, and only half a man, We'll resume the tale of this woman and man, Not forgetting, of course, their daughter. I've stayed with them for quite a time, And for their kindness, made return, By introducing them to wine, Much sweeter than any water. And between you me Even sweeter is she Than the fruit of this tree She'll be mine, wait and see. The way in which it came about Made them stare and gasp and shout For with my staff I gave a clout And struck a great blow on the ground And up there sprang, before their eyes A full-grown vine, God's holy prize, All hung with grapes, to their surprise, So full, and fat and round. She laughed with delight, Such a wondrous sight, She'll be mine by tonight You'll see that I'm right. They take the grapes, they squash them flat, They pour the juice into a vat, Let it ferment, and that is that, The God-gift of wine is now theirs. And now new life floods through their veins, Like horses broken free of reins, They race and stamp and shake their manes, Set free from all worries and cares. And while they share their bliss, I'll share mine with that miss, I'll take just a kiss - And a bit more, I-wis. |
| Dionysos goes | |
| Metaneira and Icarius enter. Icarius is drinking from a skin-bag of wine. Both are happily drunk | |
| ICARIUS: | Oh! What rapture! What joy! I feel young as a boy! I could run! I could skip! I could dance! I could swing from a tree! |
| METANEIRA: | Give that wine-bag to me! And I'll join you, if I get the chance. |
| She takes the bag and drinks | |
| Dear husband, I think It's a marvellous drink, And it fills me with passion and fire! |
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| ICARIUS: | Me too, dearest wife. Why, in all of my life, I've not felt such burning desire! |
| METANEIRA: ICARIUS: |
My soul's filled with bliss! Come and give us a kiss! Let's make passionate love here and now! Let us writhe, let us roll - ! |
| METANEIRA: | Good God, bless my soul! I'd like to, but I can't recall how! My head's in a muddle! Let's make do with a cuddle, At our age that's more than enough. |
| ICARIUS: | You're right, Metaneira. Just come a step nearer And - give me some more of that stuff! |
| He snatches the wine-bag off her and drinks | |
| METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: |
You rotten deceiver! I'll never believe you Again when you say that you love me! How it makes my head roar! I'll make your head sore! I can see the sky spinning above me! |
| METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: |
Give it here! No! You what? You drunken old sot. I want a bit more - You've had plenty! |
| She takes the bag | |
| Now it's my turn - You swine! You've drunk all the wine! |
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| ICARIUS: | No, I haven't - |
| METANEIRA: | You have! Look, it's empty! |
ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: |
She holds the bag upside-down Now what are we to do? I don't know about you, But I'm starving, and I want my dinner. There's none left, you great clot! Our guest's had the lot! All our food? Yes. The thieving old sinner! I'm weak on my feet! What I want is some meat, Boiled or roasted, to stuff down my throat. Don't give up just yet, Our girl's got a pet - |
| ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: METANEIRA: ICARIUS: |
What, the cat? No, you fool! The goat! Let's go now and kill it Find its life-blood and spill it We're just answering our natures' call. A goat's only meat On the hoof - Let's go eat! Offer God the goat's life! Cut its throat with a knife! Scoff the lot! Meat - Skin - Blood - Bones and all! |
| Icarius and Metaneira grab the skull and skin from the cross, hold them up triumphantly, then throw them to the ground and go. Erigone enters. She is disturbed, distressed, looks about wildly |
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| ERIGONE: | Who's there - ? - No one - ssh - quiet, now - there, it's all right, there, there - No - ! - Stop - ! - Look at you! The state you're in! What have you been up to - ? Can't say - can't tell - it's a secret - But your face, your face is so dirty! I'll wash, then, wash my face, here, in this pool, scrub it clean - What's that? That face looking up at me out of the water? Whose is it? Not my face, no - And what's happened to it? Something terrible, something awful - I won't look at it! I'll make a mask - carve a mask from wood - and I'll wear it, I'll wear this mask - there, it fits perfectly - now I can speak - now I'll tell. |
| She stands facing outward, her face impassive, and speaks, in calm, measured tones | |
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There is a place upon the mountainside Where ancient oak-trees grow, a shady grove Close-clustered round the banks of a deep pool. Small flowers grow there too, purple and red, Whose perfume fills the air with rich, sweet scent, And sometimes she goes there to pick those blooms, As she did today. And as she did, Was overcome by such a weariness That all her limbs fell heavy, and she lay down To rest upon the bank among the flowers And fell into uneasy sleep. Half-dreaming, She saw the sunlight sprinkled through the leaves Like flickering sparks, dark shadows drifting Like smoke that rises from the autumn fires. She heard no sound, no gentle step disturb The silence. And yet, as if the shadows Had congealed to solid form, or a tree Had shed its bark, to reveal the supple Form within, a figure stood above her, Man-like, but more than man, about whose head The flecks of sunlight danced and gathered, Whose gaze held hers transfixed. Then, with a gasp, Too late she recognised that face, too late The dark intent upon that face. She rose, Fell back beneath his weight, struggled in vain, A helpless bird caught in a hunter's trap, That beats its wings and cries in hopelessness. And at last What strength she had gave out, and she gave in, Endured the torment till the deed was done, And she was left alone. And then she wept, Till weeping too was done, and all was still. The flowers bloomed as before, the silent oaks Spread their boughs across the shining pool, But all was hateful now, the flowers, the trees, The waters of the pool, the earth itself, all Deadly enemies, betrayers of her trust - She, who never harmed a living creature, She, whose thoughts and deeds were ever gentle, Mild, compliant to her nature and her sex - To be treated so - to be used - so - and cast aside - |
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| Her composure begins to break as she tenderly lifts the goat-skull and skin |
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| A sorry sacrifice - see here - and here - The wasted scraps of human appetite - ! Poor creature! Poor thing! Who'll weep for her? Poor torn and tattered, bruised, broken, bloody thing! |
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| She replaces the goat-skull and the skin on the cross, and remains standing there |
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All original material Copyright © 2002 David Calcutt.
Any reproduction in full or in part of any item or extract represented herein is forbidden
unless written permission has first been obtained from the originator.