The Phantom

[Phasma]

Introductory Note to The Phantom

    We know, from Donatus,1 the situation but not the development of the plot of this play. The ‘phantom’ of the title was the illegitimate daughter (the result of rape) of a young man’s step-mother. She had established the girl in the house next door, and organized a shrine at a hole in the party-wall, so that she could talk to her daughter while making offerings. The young man saw the girl at the shrine, and thought she was a phantom. But when he discovered that she was real, he fell in love with her, and eventually married her. How this dénouement was achieved is not clear. There were obviously two families, two young men and two girls (one of them the ‘phantom’) involved in the action. The ‘phantom’s’ parentage must have been discovered in order to permit the marriage, but details of the plot development can only be speculative.

CHARACTERS

A DIVINE PROLOGUE

PHEIDIAS, a young man

(?)HIS TUTOR

A COOK

SYROS, a servant

ANOTHER YOUNG MAN

The two girls may or may not have appeared.

ACT ONE

SCENE: a street in a city, with two houses, one belonging to Pheidias’s father, the other where the girls live.

DIVINE PROLOGUE [quoting]:… ‘to bring to a conclusion… consider yourself a bridegroom… the girl’s mother… in some other way to her brother… and for heaven’s sake don’t give them any grounds for suspecting you.’ That’s what he’s doing. What else could anyone do?… she’s not a phantom, but a real, live girl, established in the house of the bride. She was born before her [10] mother came here… her mother put her out to be fostered, and she’s here in the house next door, being fostered, and guarded when the husband’s at home. At other times, when he’s out at the farm and there’s less need for supervision, then she can leave the house. What a vision… [To audience] Perhaps you still want a clearer account of this. The mother has made a hole in the wall, and [20] created an opening… to see everything… covered it with garlands, so that no one coming up can see what it is…

Some lines are missing from the text, and it resumes with a conversation between Pheidias and (possibly) his ex-Tutor.

TUTOR: What’s the price of wheat in the market today?

PHEIDIAS: I have no interest in that.

TUTOR: No. But, if I may say so, if it is expensive, you might be interested on my account, for I’m a poor man. Take a look at [30] yourself, Pheidias. Accept that you’re a human being, and an imperfect one at that, and don’t set your heart on things beyond your reach. You say you don’t sleep well: will anyone looking at your life-style see any good reason for that? You walk around as you like, go in immediately if your legs get tired; you bathe luxuriously, then eat what you like. Your whole life is a sleep! In short, you’ve nothing to worry you, and your sickness is what you’ve described. A more vulgar expression occurs to me, young [40] sir: excuse me, but as the saying goes, you’ve not a corner left to ease yourself in, for all the good things around you. I’m telling you!

PHEIDIAS: You be damned!

TUTOR: It’s the truth, I tell you. That’s what’s wrong with you.

PHEIDIAS: And yet I’ve no control over myself, and I’m very unhappy.

TUTOR: It’s weak and silly –

PHEIDIAS: All right! You’ve worked it all out. What’s your advice to me?

TUTOR: My advice is this, Pheidias: if you were really ill, you would [50] have to look for a real cure for your illness. But you’re not. So invent an imaginary disease and the imaginary cure for it, and imagine it is doing you some good. Let the women circle round you, wash you and purify you. Get yourself sprinkled with water from three springs, into which you’ve put salt and lentils.

The next fragment consists of some twenty mutilated lines, from which all that can be deduced is that a servant called Syros is addressed twice, that there is mention of marriage and a sister, and there is something to do with a cook. A passage in longer metre follows, with two speakers.

A: That’s finished me.

B:… this chap’s no Clever-Dick. They quite rightly suspected immediately… he met… then he rushed on her again…

A: I am unlucky in love.

B: You’re one of those, young sir, who offer him a locked-up girl for food.2 If the fit comes on him, perhaps he’ll bite off the girl’s nose.

A: God forbid!

B: Yes, indeed. Or her lip, while he’s doing a bit of kissing. And perhaps this is all for the best. For you’ll stop loving her if you see her then.

A: Are you pulling my leg? [90]

B: Who, me? Of course not.

A: I’ll go in and see my sister, and get the whole story sorted out. I think she’s rather depressed by the projected marriage.

Parts of fifteen more lines survive, in which there is a conversation about rape, about a future conversation involving a woman, and about Brauron (where there was a famous shrine of Artemis). But neither the speakers nor the place of the fragments in the play can be determined.