SONGS OF THE HEART:
Poliphilo's Plight
Musical Theatre, Written By Leonard George
Artistic Director: Rena Sharon
Debut Performance: August 13, 2000, First Nations Longhouse,
University of British Columbia
POLIPHILO: John Harris
GREENA: Rena Sharon (piano)
HOMUNCULI: Benjamin Butterfield
Susan Platts
Wendy Nielsen
Tyler Duncan
TROUBADOURS: Phoebe MacRae
Alexander Dunn (guitar)
THE SONGS:
Before Life and After by Benjamin Britten
I Attempt from Love's Sickness to Fly by Henry Purcell
Stop all the Clocks by W.H. Auden / John Duke
A Terrible Disaster by Paul Goodman / Ned Rorem
Fleur Jetee by Armand Silvestre / Gabriel Faure
Chanson Perpetuelle by Charles Cros / Ernest Chausson
Heart, We Will Forget Him by Emily Dickenson / Aaron Copland
Ich trage meine Minne by Karl Henckell / Richard Strauss
There is a Lady Sweet and Kind by Anonymous Elizabethan / Norman dello Joio
Liebst du um Schonheit by Ruckert / Gustav Mahler
Romance by Stevenson / Sled
How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning / Ned Rorem
Love Story by Randy Newman
Ich liebe Dich by Edvard Grieg
Sweeter Than Roses by Pausanias / Purcell
Rede Madchen by von Daumer / Johannes Brahms
[An alchemist sits at a table, tinkering with substances and symbols, deeply absorbed in his work. Ben is across the stage, slumped and lifeless. Greena at the piano glares and frowns at the alchemist as he continues to putter, ignoring the audience. She goes to him, snaps her fingers in his ear, waves hands before his eyes, tugs on his sleeve, yanks off his hat - he is unperturbed. She flounces back to piano, plays a loud, dissonant chord. The alchemist looks up startled at the audience.]
Oh - Greetings! Yes, I am He about Whom you have heard so much, all wondrous, and, I might add, all true. I am - Poliphilo, and I am an alchemist. Welcome, my fortunate students, to our class on Alchemy, the antique art and science of transmuting lead into gold.
Now lead is found in many forms. There is the metal, of course; and I have laboured long, deploying all the secrets of Nature, to compel leaden lumps into that most valued golden sheen. Enticing the spirits of matter into the dance of transmutation demands a wisdom that you, as mere minnows in the ocean of alchemy, do not begin to possess! But at another time� and for a Fee that matches your Faith� I may guide you aways.
Then there are those things that weigh like lead on the hopes of all humanity: Disease; Old Age; Death. I am glad to report that I, Poliphilo, have mastered this alchemical conundrum. Certain potions and exercises, discovered by Myself, have the power to mutate these leaden banes into the gold of - Immortality! At least so far. The statuesque and sagacious man you see before you is more than 800 years old! And doesn't look a day past 200, don't you agree? If you pursue your esoteric studies with diligence, you too can learn to extend your lives; and also to infuse your own vigour into clay figures, thus creating the magical servants called homunculi.
[Poliphilo casually gestures at Ben, who twitches.]
As these creatures come to life, their awareness is shaped by the first thing they see, like goslings fixing on a mother goose. And I their Alchemical Parent can harness this feature to implant any idea, or motive, or impulse, as it suits my inscrutable purposes. I can even summon into their minds entire scenarios, and incidents recalled, even lives lived. All this I will shortly demonstrate.
Fear not, nervous students! Tightly bound by my Hermetically Focussed Will, the homunculi are but animated puppets - useful in some of the more hazardous experiments�
But the true goal of the Great Work, the Opus Magnum, the Holy Grail of the alchemic quest is - the Philosopher's Stone. The savants of old left many clues to its nature. The raw material from which it is made is the most common thing of all. What could it be? In its unrefined form it brings only tragedy, plunging the seeker into the dark night of the soul. What is it? It is unfathomably ancient, yet is constantly renewed. What thing is this, this Prima Materia, hidden within all, waiting to be purified into that which transmutes everything - body, soul and spirit - into gold!
You are a privileged lot. For I, Poliphilo, will reveal to you the identity of this Stone. In the rough, it is - ordinary human Desire. Yes, desire, fount of all woe, but in its alchemically evolved mode, is pure and perfect Love. And the Eye of Love sees the Gold in all things. But we must start with desire - burning and yearning, uninvited and unrequited, rending, never-ending. O the misery, and mystery, of Desire!
My homunculus will clarify. First, I will rouse him from his inorganic oblivion; then, I will program his consciousness with this Magickal Manuscript! Keen students, do not attempt this feat without advanced training!
From dust to flesh is life refined;
Into this clay I conjure Mind!
To Music does this soul belong,
So from these lips I conjure Song!
[Ben becomes animated; Poliphilo takes the Manuscript from a stack on the table, thrusts it before Ben's fluttering eyes. Ben grabs it, sings BEFORE LIFE AND AFTER]
Yes, the "disease of feeling" contains the root of its own relief. From the manure of Lust blooms the rose of vast Love. But first, the disease. In the more enlightened era of my own precocious childhood, during the age of the troubadours, "Love sickness" could be found as a diagnosis in medical texts. This malady of Amor Hereos was greatly feared, as it could be fatal. I quote my old friend Doctor Bernard of Montpellier, physician and author of the esteemed Lillium Medicinale, first published in 1316. (It was dedicated to My Humble Self, I might add.)
"The illness called Hereos is melancholy anguish produced by love. The cause of this affliction lies in the corruption of the faculty to evaluate, due to a figure and a face that made a very strong impression. When a man is in love with a woman, he thinks exaggeratedly of her figure, her face, her behaviour, believing her to be the most beautiful, the most worthy of respect, the most extraordinary with the best build, in body and soul, that there can be. This is why he desires her passionately, forgetting all sense of proportion and common sense, and thinks that, if he could satisfy his desire, he would be happy. To so great an extent is his judgment distorted that he constantly thinks of the woman's figure and abandons all his activities so that, if someone speaks to him, he hardly hears him. And since this entails continuous contemplation it can be defined as melancholy anguish."
Beware, delicate students! Do not let this happen to you!
Dr. Bernard lists some symptoms of the dreaded Hereos. Who among you is suffering from these?
Insomnia?
Lack of appetite?
Weakening of the whole body, except the eyes, which develop a crazed look?
Obsessive fantasy?
Emotional instability?
Irregular pulse?
Constant restlessness?
Anyone with more than four symptoms, leave the class now! You might be contagious! It can spread like the Plague!
[A confederate in the front row, who had dramatically endorsed every symptom with much hand-waving, slinks out.]
Doctor Bernard said the prognosis is worrisome; victims of love-sickness can become maniacs and die if left untreated. Listen well to his prescriptions: Travel. Exercise. Whipping. Drinking. Sessions with a member of - a health care profession. The, ah, oldest health care profession.
Troubadours, inform us more!
[Alex and Phoebe appear, perform I ATTEMPT FROM LOVE'S SICKNESS TO FLY IN VAIN]
Alchemy delves much deeper than mere medicine into the arcanum of Love. We seek not to cure, but to transmute! How to change lead into gold, desire into Love? Listen well, puzzled students! The venerable Empedocles taught that everything in the cosmos is composed of four elements - earth, fire, water and air - in varying proportions. By manipulating the ratios of the elements, any substance can be transmuted into any other! It's simple! The hoary masters discerned that gold is made of earth and water, air and fire, in exquisite balance. So the gold of emotions - true and perfect Love - must likewise be a harmonious synthesis of earthy, fiery, moist and windy feelings! And it seems to me that the love sickness described by Doctor Bernard is a fever, a surfeit of the fiery element. So let us undertake a small experiment. We shall employ one of my Homunculi (because, frankly, it would not be an experiment if we were sure of the outcome).
[Susan appears, eyes seemingy closed.]
She has been pre-infected with Amor Hereos! Cautious students, inhaling in her presence may be dangerous! The wise will hold their breaths. Let us foment in her mind an episode of Passion and Delight. Then, cleverly infuse a dose of alchemical Water, to cool her fever, to moisten the kernel of blessed Love!
[Poliphilo opens a Manuscript before her eyes, which fly open; she snatches it, reads, smiles. He sprays her with water; she reels, sings STOP ALL THE CLOCKS. She freezes, hands over her face as if crying. Poliphilo looks uncomfortable.]
As I said, if we were certain of the result, it would not be an experiment. Evidently, correcting a paucity of water is not the secret of Love. Indeed, the pitiable Homunculus could drown in her tears! Perhaps the imbalance of Desire is a dearth of Earth. True, is it not, that those maddened by Love act like they are from another planet? As if they have lost their footing on common ground? Yes, let us study this possibility with a sturdy Homunculus, whom we will imprint with a memory of his Heart's Desire, then anoint with some alchemical Earth.
Not too close, curious students; shield yourselves! Who knows what joyous germination will explode?
[Poliphilo closes Ben's eyes, presents him with another Manuscript as they open, then sprinkles him with earth from a bowl, or maybe shakes a globe above him like a salt shaker. Ben sings A TERRIBLE DISASTER. He looks grim.]
Well. A successful experiment, as are all of my experiments! A success, because we established (as I suspected all along) that a deficiency of Earth is not the flaw within Desire. The slaves of love sickness are anchored by chains of anguish, their minds are pinned by the tiniest details of their obsessions! They need to be freed from their prisons, to rise above it all, to soar into the atmosphere of True Love! They need Air! Hang onto your cloaks, modest students, lest a flash of your flesh unbalance your neighbour. I now unleash on this Guinea-Homunculus une memoire d'un grand amour - and a blast of alchemical Air!
[Tyler appears. Poliphilo gives him a Manuscript, blows on him with the bellows. Tyler sings FLEUR JETEE. This is not a happy song.]
So now we know. It is not Air. Thus we approach our glorious conclusion, as there is only one element left to try. The searing fever of Hereos is not a symptom of the disease, but of the soul's transformative struggle. The blaze of the untrained soul is just too feeble. By properly cooking the disorder, the dross melts away, leaving pure Love glistening in the oven like a newborn in a crib! I am sure of it! Students pale with excitement, cover up, or be singed by the radiance of alchemical Fire, which I now apply to this helpful Homunculus, after guiding her mind to Le Chateau de la Coeur!
[Wendy appears. Poliphilo presents a Manuscript, and waves a torch at her. She sings CHANSON PERPETUELLE, ends perched at the edge of the stage as if contemplating a suicidal leap.]
Oh dear. Matters of love are not quite as simple as I thought. Let me rummage in my cavernous knowledge for a moment� Hmmm�
[Poliphilo closes his eyes, at first seemingly concentrating, but gradually slumps, then snores. Greena grows impatient, tries to rouse Poliphilo through poking, tugging, tweaking etc. No response. She produces the jar of Quintessence from beneath his table, sprinkles some on him, and leaves the jar sitting prominently on the table. Greena flounces back to piano, hammers a thunderous dissonant chord. The alchemist jumps, sees audience, begins to intone while still a little disoriented.]
Oh - Greetings! Yes, I am He about Whom you have heard so much � all wondrous � Right! Desire into Love! As I was saying�
Wakeful students, attend closely to this lesson! Sometimes, even the greatest of alchemists reach an impasse in their operations. (After all, even I, Poliphilo, am only human, albeit a paragon of the Most Polished and Precious quality.) At these moments of uncertainty, if we are worthy, exalted spirits may deign to extend us aid. And such, I proclaim, has just occurred to this Most Deserving alchemist you see before you! I have had a Vision! Was it an elemental sprite? Or an archangel? Or perhaps Sophia Herself, the embodiment of Divine Wisdom, She who enlivens the cosmos by performing the Music of the Spheres? Yes, it was Her -- a Lady of such preternatural beauty, with emerald hair, and silken raiment threaded with lightning, a bosom like the very moon and sun, and hands awash with stars!
[Greena looks rather pleased with herself by now. Poliphilo rises, excited.]
Stars! By Salomon Trismosin, I have got it! Teachers of yore, such as the mighty Paracelsus, did mention a fifth element, the Quintessence. It is that which shines in the stars, and in the deepest recesses of the soul. This Quintessence must be the key! However, that revered mystic Raven Trismegistus hinted that it cannot be extracted by impatient force when he sang:
The Eye that long Endures the Dark
Will Glimpse the Glimmer of the Stars.
Like Love itself, the Quintessence responds not to compulsion, but to invitation; not to effort, but to - Imagination!
The Power of True Fantasy is alchemy's most profound secret. The Eye of the Soul is the Eye of Love. We must stop trying, and start - imagining! The fire and water and earth and air in our lives will harmonize themselves, if we just get out of our own way. Imagine that!
I have preserved a small sample of that starry element, with which to seed the fertile soul. Now where did I put it?
[He forages beneath the table, unsuccessfully, maybe producing some amusing detritus as he does so - quantities of unmatched socks? A frisbee? Comic books? Lingerie? He emerges, frustrated, then spies the jar of Quintessence on the table. Puzzled, but quickly disguises the fact.]
Oh - yes of course, right where I left it.
[Poliphilo drizzles the sparkling Quintessence, somewhat stingily, on audience, on homunculi, and on himself.]
Let us imagine together, cherished students�Yes, Homunculi, you too�
Imagine relaxing our bodies, weary and scarred from the wars of desire.
With each breath, we sink deeper and deeper into an alchemical rest.
With each breath, our problems seem further and further distant.
Imagine a soothing light flowing through us, calming and healing. Imagine a star, twinkling softly in our hearts, its glow gently dissolving every shadow of despair, of anger, of fear.
Imagine a world in love. Imagine� just imagine�
[Wendy, as if awakening from a trance, sings HEART, WE WILL FORGET HIM]
[Ben sings to Wendy ICH TRAGE MEINE MINNE]
Holy zeitgeist! I think it's working!
[Tyler sings to Susan THERE IS A LADY SWEET AND KIND]
[Susan sings to Tyler LIEBST DU UM SCHONHEIT]
[Tyler sings to Susan ROMANCE]
[Susan sings to Tyler HOW DO I LOVE THEE]
I think it's Love!
[Ben sings to Wendy LOVE STORY]
[Wendy sings to Ben ICH LIEBE DICH]
Viewed only through eyes of matter, the world is all ascatter, the elements battle, and alchemy's prattle!
But seen through the eyes of fantasy, the world is a hidden harmony.
Earth loves Fire, and Water loves Air, and Gold is hatched from Lead's Despair!
O, dear students! I feel good!
[Poliphilo looks heavenward, reverently -]
Lady Wisdom, thou Emerald Vision, my profound gratitude!
[Greena, with strong Montreal Jewish accent: "You're welcome!", and other kosher sentiments. Blissful Poliphilo smiles and sighs.]
Troubadours, a song of celebration is apropos.
[Homunculi embrace and kiss, as Phoebe and Alex perform SWEETER THAN ROSES]
You lucky, lucky students! I, Poliphilo, who have attained Immortality, and have just imparted to you the secret of Love's Transmutation, will now embark on the last remaining quest - the transmutation of worthless metals into material wealth. First, take a chunk of lead -
[Poliphilo looks at an hourglass on the table, which has run out.]
But, my boundless compassion dictates that I save this treasured insight for another time. Your capacities, still unripe, are doubtless strained to their limits by the wonders I have unveiled today. I well understand that you will need time to digest these secrets, so mighty is their magnitude. We will resume our lessons next week! You may preregister with one of our assistants as you depart. And do consider - a Fee that matches your Faith�
[Behind Poliphilo's back as he speaks, the homunculi raid the Quintessence jar, and gleefully pelt each other, troubadours and Greena. Ben boldly approaches the alchemist from behind, and douses him with the glitter. Poliphilo looks momentarily stunned, then delighted. He grabs the jar from Ben, and flings the rest over the audience. Homunculi and troubadours form a circle around him as he pronounces:]
As the Serpent bites its tail, so the Great Work cannot fail.
As the elements circle round, we from dark to Light are bound.
What more desire from Wisdom's trove
Than Souls of Gold, and Songs of Love?
[They sing REDE MADCHEN]
In the theatre will be displayed this quote from Splendor Solis by Salomon Trismosin, published before 1532:
Study what thou art,
Whereof thou art a part,
What thou knowest of this Art,
This is really what thou art.
All that is without thee,
Also is within.
SONGS OF THE HEART:
Poliphilo's Plight
Artistic Director: Rena Sharon
Debut Performance: August 13, 2000, First Nations Longhouse, University of British Columbia
POLIPHILO: John Harris
GREENA: Rena Sharon (piano)
HOMUNCULI: Benjamin Butterfield
Susan Platts
Wendy Nielsen
Tyler Duncan
TROUBADOURS: Phoebe MacRae
Alexander Dunn (guitar)
THE SONGS:
Before Life and After by Benjamin Britten
I Attempt from Love's Sickness to Fly by Henry Purcell
Stop all the Clocks by W.H. Auden / John Duke
A Terrible Disaster by Paul Goodman / Ned Rorem
Fleur Jetee by Armand Silvestre / Gabriel Faure
Chanson Perpetuelle by Charles Cros / Ernest Chausson
Heart, We Will Forget Him by Emily Dickenson / Aaron Copland
Ich trage meine Minne by Karl Henckell / Richard Strauss
There is a Lady Sweet and Kind by Anonymous Elizabethan / Norman dello Joio
Liebst du um Schonheit by Ruckert / Gustav Mahler
Romance by Stevenson / Sled
How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning / Ned Rorem
Love Story by Randy Newman
Ich liebe Dich by Edvard Grieg
Sweeter Than Roses by Pausanias / Purcell
Rede Madchen by von Daumer / Johannes Brahms
[An alchemist sits at a table, tinkering with substances and symbols, deeply absorbed in his work. Ben is across the stage, slumped and lifeless. Greena at the piano glares and frowns at the alchemist as he continues to putter, ignoring the audience. She goes to him, snaps her fingers in his ear, waves hands before his eyes, tugs on his sleeve, yanks off his hat - he is unperturbed. She flounces back to piano, plays a loud, dissonant chord. The alchemist looks up startled at the audience.]
Oh - Greetings! Yes, I am He about Whom you have heard so much, all wondrous, and, I might add, all true. I am - Poliphilo, and I am an alchemist. Welcome, my fortunate students, to our class on Alchemy, the antique art and science of transmuting lead into gold.
Now lead is found in many forms. There is the metal, of course; and I have laboured long, deploying all the secrets of Nature, to compel leaden lumps into that most valued golden sheen. Enticing the spirits of matter into the dance of transmutation demands a wisdom that you, as mere minnows in the ocean of alchemy, do not begin to possess! But at another time� and for a Fee that matches your Faith� I may guide you aways.
Then there are those things that weigh like lead on the hopes of all humanity: Disease; Old Age; Death. I am glad to report that I, Poliphilo, have mastered this alchemical conundrum. Certain potions and exercises, discovered by Myself, have the power to mutate these leaden banes into the gold of - Immortality! At least so far. The statuesque and sagacious man you see before you is more than 800 years old! And doesn't look a day past 200, don't you agree? If you pursue your esoteric studies with diligence, you too can learn to extend your lives; and also to infuse your own vigour into clay figures, thus creating the magical servants called homunculi.
[Poliphilo casually gestures at Ben, who twitches.]
As these creatures come to life, their awareness is shaped by the first thing they see, like goslings fixing on a mother goose. And I their Alchemical Parent can harness this feature to implant any idea, or motive, or impulse, as it suits my inscrutable purposes. I can even summon into their minds entire scenarios, and incidents recalled, even lives lived. All this I will shortly demonstrate.
Fear not, nervous students! Tightly bound by my Hermetically Focussed Will, the homunculi are but animated puppets - useful in some of the more hazardous experiments�
But the true goal of the Great Work, the Opus Magnum, the Holy Grail of the alchemic quest is - the Philosopher's Stone. The savants of old left many clues to its nature. The raw material from which it is made is the most common thing of all. What could it be? In its unrefined form it brings only tragedy, plunging the seeker into the dark night of the soul. What is it? It is unfathomably ancient, yet is constantly renewed. What thing is this, this Prima Materia, hidden within all, waiting to be purified into that which transmutes everything - body, soul and spirit - into gold!
You are a privileged lot. For I, Poliphilo, will reveal to you the identity of this Stone. In the rough, it is - ordinary human Desire. Yes, desire, fount of all woe, but in its alchemically evolved mode, is pure and perfect Love. And the Eye of Love sees the Gold in all things. But we must start with desire - burning and yearning, uninvited and unrequited, rending, never-ending. O the misery, and mystery, of Desire!
My homunculus will clarify. First, I will rouse him from his inorganic oblivion; then, I will program his consciousness with this Magickal Manuscript! Keen students, do not attempt this feat without advanced training!
From dust to flesh is life refined;
Into this clay I conjure Mind!
To Music does this soul belong,
So from these lips I conjure Song!
[Ben becomes animated; Poliphilo takes the Manuscript from a stack on the table, thrusts it before Ben's fluttering eyes. Ben grabs it, sings BEFORE LIFE AND AFTER]
Yes, the "disease of feeling" contains the root of its own relief. From the manure of Lust blooms the rose of vast Love. But first, the disease. In the more enlightened era of my own precocious childhood, during the age of the troubadours, "Love sickness" could be found as a diagnosis in medical texts. This malady of Amor Hereos was greatly feared, as it could be fatal. I quote my old friend Doctor Bernard of Montpellier, physician and author of the esteemed Lillium Medicinale, first published in 1316. (It was dedicated to My Humble Self, I might add.)
"The illness called Hereos is melancholy anguish produced by love. The cause of this affliction lies in the corruption of the faculty to evaluate, due to a figure and a face that made a very strong impression. When a man is in love with a woman, he thinks exaggeratedly of her figure, her face, her behaviour, believing her to be the most beautiful, the most worthy of respect, the most extraordinary with the best build, in body and soul, that there can be. This is why he desires her passionately, forgetting all sense of proportion and common sense, and thinks that, if he could satisfy his desire, he would be happy. To so great an extent is his judgment distorted that he constantly thinks of the woman's figure and abandons all his activities so that, if someone speaks to him, he hardly hears him. And since this entails continuous contemplation it can be defined as melancholy anguish."
Beware, delicate students! Do not let this happen to you!
Dr. Bernard lists some symptoms of the dreaded Hereos. Who among you is suffering from these?
Insomnia?
Lack of appetite?
Weakening of the whole body, except the eyes, which develop a crazed look?
Obsessive fantasy?
Emotional instability?
Irregular pulse?
Constant restlessness?
Anyone with more than four symptoms, leave the class now! You might be contagious! It can spread like the Plague!
[A confederate in the front row, who had dramatically endorsed every symptom with much hand-waving, slinks out.]
Doctor Bernard said the prognosis is worrisome; victims of love-sickness can become maniacs and die if left untreated. Listen well to his prescriptions: Travel. Exercise. Whipping. Drinking. Sessions with a member of - a health care profession. The, ah, oldest health care profession.
Troubadours, inform us more!
[Alex and Phoebe appear, perform I ATTEMPT FROM LOVE'S SICKNESS TO FLY IN VAIN]
Alchemy delves much deeper than mere medicine into the arcanum of Love. We seek not to cure, but to transmute! How to change lead into gold, desire into Love? Listen well, puzzled students! The venerable Empedocles taught that everything in the cosmos is composed of four elements - earth, fire, water and air - in varying proportions. By manipulating the ratios of the elements, any substance can be transmuted into any other! It's simple! The hoary masters discerned that gold is made of earth and water, air and fire, in exquisite balance. So the gold of emotions - true and perfect Love - must likewise be a harmonious synthesis of earthy, fiery, moist and windy feelings! And it seems to me that the love sickness described by Doctor Bernard is a fever, a surfeit of the fiery element. So let us undertake a small experiment. We shall employ one of my Homunculi (because, frankly, it would not be an experiment if we were sure of the outcome).
[Susan appears, eyes seemingy closed.]
She has been pre-infected with Amor Hereos! Cautious students, inhaling in her presence may be dangerous! The wise will hold their breaths. Let us foment in her mind an episode of Passion and Delight. Then, cleverly infuse a dose of alchemical Water, to cool her fever, to moisten the kernel of blessed Love!
[Poliphilo opens a Manuscript before her eyes, which fly open; she snatches it, reads, smiles. He sprays her with water; she reels, sings STOP ALL THE CLOCKS. She freezes, hands over her face as if crying. Poliphilo looks uncomfortable.]
As I said, if we were certain of the result, it would not be an experiment. Evidently, correcting a paucity of water is not the secret of Love. Indeed, the pitiable Homunculus could drown in her tears! Perhaps the imbalance of Desire is a dearth of Earth. True, is it not, that those maddened by Love act like they are from another planet? As if they have lost their footing on common ground? Yes, let us study this possibility with a sturdy Homunculus, whom we will imprint with a memory of his Heart's Desire, then anoint with some alchemical Earth. Not too close, curious students; shield yourselves! Who knows what joyous germination will explode?
[Poliphilo closes Ben's eyes, presents him with another Manuscript as they open, then sprinkles him with earth from a bowl, or maybe shakes a globe above him like a salt shaker. Ben sings A TERRIBLE DISASTER. He looks grim.]
Well. A successful experiment, as are all of my experiments! A success, because we established (as I suspected all along) that a deficiency of Earth is not the flaw within Desire. The slaves of love sickness are anchored by chains of anguish, their minds are pinned by the tiniest details of their obsessions! They need to be freed from their prisons, to rise above it all, to soar into the atmosphere of True Love! They need Air! Hang onto your cloaks, modest students, lest a flash of your flesh unbalance your neighbour. I now unleash on this Guinea-Homunculus une memoire d'un grand amour - and a blast of alchemical Air!
[Tyler appears. Poliphilo gives him a Manuscript, blows on him with the bellows. Tyler sings FLEUR JETEE. This is not a happy song.]
So now we know. It is not Air. Thus we approach our glorious conclusion, as there is only one element left to try. The searing fever of Hereos is not a symptom of the disease, but of the soul's transformative struggle. The blaze of the untrained soul is just too feeble. By properly cooking the disorder, the dross melts away, leaving pure Love glistening in the oven like a newborn in a crib! I am sure of it! Students pale with excitement, cover up, or be singed by the radiance of alchemical Fire, which I now apply to this helpful Homunculus, after guiding her mind to Le Chateau de la Coeur!
[Wendy appears. Poliphilo presents a Manuscript, and waves a torch at her. She sings CHANSON PERPETUELLE, ends perched at the edge of the stage as if contemplating a suicidal leap.]
Oh dear. Matters of love are not quite as simple as I thought. Let me rummage in my cavernous knowledge for a moment� Hmmm�
[Poliphilo closes his eyes, at first seemingly concentrating, but gradually slumps, then snores. Greena grows impatient, tries to rouse Poliphilo through poking, tugging, tweaking etc. No response. She produces the jar of Quintessence from beneath his table, sprinkles some on him, and leaves the jar sitting prominently on the table. Greena flounces back to piano, hammers a thunderous dissonant chord. The alchemist jumps, sees audience, begins to intone while still a little disoriented.]
Oh - Greetings! Yes, I am He about Whom you have heard so much � all wondrous � Right! Desire into Love! As I was saying�
Wakeful students, attend closely to this lesson! Sometimes, even the greatest of alchemists reach an impasse in their operations. (After all, even I, Poliphilo, am only human, albeit a paragon of the Most Polished and Precious quality.) At these moments of uncertainty, if we are worthy, exalted spirits may deign to extend us aid. And such, I proclaim, has just occurred to this Most Deserving alchemist you see before you! I have had a Vision! Was it an elemental sprite? Or an archangel? Or perhaps Sophia Herself, the embodiment of Divine Wisdom, She who enlivens the cosmos by performing the Music of the Spheres? Yes, it was Her -- a Lady of such preternatural beauty, with emerald hair, and silken raiment threaded with lightning, a bosom like the very moon and sun, and hands awash with stars!
[Greena looks rather pleased with herself by now. Poliphilo rises, excited.]
Stars! By Salomon Trismosin, I have got it! Teachers of yore, such as the mighty Paracelsus, did mention a fifth element, the Quintessence. It is that which shines in the stars, and in the deepest recesses of the soul. This Quintessence must be the key! However, that revered mystic Raven Trismegistus hinted that it cannot be extracted by impatient force when he sang:
The Eye that long Endures the Dark
Will Glimpse the Glimmer of the Stars.
Like Love itself, the Quintessence responds not to compulsion, but to invitation; not to effort, but to - Imagination!
The Power of True Fantasy is alchemy's most profound secret. The Eye of the Soul is the Eye of Love. We must stop trying, and start - imagining! The fire and water and earth and air in our lives will harmonize themselves, if we just get out of our own way. Imagine that!
I have preserved a small sample of that starry element, with which to seed the fertile soul. Now where did I put it?
[He forages beneath the table, unsuccessfully, maybe producing some amusing detritus as he does so - quantities of unmatched socks? A frisbee? Comic books? Lingerie? He emerges, frustrated, then spies the jar of Quintessence on the table. Puzzled, but quickly disguises the fact.]
Oh - yes of course, right where I left it.
[Poliphilo drizzles the sparkling Quintessence, somewhat stingily, on audience, on homunculi, and on himself.]
Let us imagine together, cherished students�Yes, Homunculi, you too�
Imagine relaxing our bodies, weary and scarred from the wars of desire. With each breath, we sink deeper and deeper into an alchemical rest. With each breath, our problems seem further and further distant. Imagine a soothing light flowing through us, calming and healing. Imagine a star, twinkling softly in our hearts, its glow gently dissolving every shadow of despair, of anger, of fear. Imagine a world in love. Imagine� just imagine�
[Wendy, as if awakening from a trance, sings HEART, WE WILL FORGET HIM]
[Ben sings to Wendy ICH TRAGE MEINE MINNE]
Holy zeitgeist! I think it's working!
[Tyler sings to Susan THERE IS A LADY SWEET AND KIND]
[Susan sings to Tyler LIEBST DU UM SCHONHEIT]
[Tyler sings to Susan ROMANCE]
[Susan sings to Tyler HOW DO I LOVE THEE]
I think it's Love!
[Ben sings to Wendy LOVE STORY]
[Wendy sings to Ben ICH LIEBE DICH]
Viewed only through eyes of matter, the world is all ascatter, the elements battle, and alchemy's prattle!
But seen through the eyes of fantasy, the world is a hidden harmony. Earth loves Fire, and Water loves Air, and Gold is hatched from Lead's Despair!
O, dear students! I feel good!
[Poliphilo looks heavenward, reverently -]
Lady Wisdom, thou Emerald Vision, my profound gratitude!
[Greena, with strong Montreal Jewish accent: "You're welcome!", and other kosher sentiments. Blissful Poliphilo smiles and sighs.]
Troubadours, a song of celebration is apropos.
[Homunculi embrace and kiss, as Phoebe and Alex perform SWEETER THAN ROSES]
You lucky, lucky students! I, Poliphilo, who have attained Immortality, and have just imparted to you the secret of Love's Transmutation, will now embark on the last remaining quest - the transmutation of worthless metals into material wealth. First, take a chunk of lead -
[Poliphilo looks at an hourglass on the table, which has run out.]
But, my boundless compassion dictates that I save this treasured insight for another time. Your capacities, still unripe, are doubtless strained to their limits by the wonders I have unveiled today. I well understand that you will need time to digest these secrets, so mighty is their magnitude. We will resume our lessons next week! You may preregister with one of our assistants as you depart. And do consider - a Fee that matches your Faith�
[Behind Poliphilo's back as he speaks, the homunculi raid the Quintessence jar, and gleefully pelt each other, troubadours and Greena. Ben boldly approaches the alchemist from behind, and douses him with the glitter. Poliphilo looks momentarily stunned, then delighted. He grabs the jar from Ben, and flings the rest over the audience. Homunculi and troubadours form a circle around him as he pronounces:]
As the Serpent bites its tail, so the Great Work cannot fail.
As the elements circle round, we from dark to Light are bound.
What more desire from Wisdom's trove
Than Souls of Gold, and Songs of Love?
[They sing REDE MADCHEN]
In the theatre will be displayed this quote from Splendor Solis by Salomon Trismosin, published before 1532:
Whereof thou art a part,
What thou knowest of this Art,
This is really what thou art.
All that is without thee,
Also is within.