II. A Camp before the walls of Rome
ARNOLD and CÆSAR.
Cæs. You are well entered now.
Arn. Aye; but my path Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full[dg] Of blood.
Cæs. Then wipe them, and see clearly. Why! Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight And free companion of the gallant Bourbon, Late constable of France[230]; and now to be Lord of the city which hath been Earth's Lord Under its emperors, and--changing sex, Not sceptre, an Hermaphrodite of Empire-- Lady of the old world[231].
Arn. How old? What! are there 10 New worlds?
Cæs. To you. You'll find there are such shortly, By its rich harvests, new disease, and gold; From one half of the world named a whole new one, Because you know no better than the dull And dubious notice of your eyes and ears.
Arn. I'll trust them.
Cæs. Do! They will deceive you sweetly, And that is better than the bitter truth.
Arn. Dog!
Cæs. Man!
Arn. Devil!
Cæs. Your obedient humble servant.
Arn. Say master rather. Thou hast lured me on, Through scenes of blood and lust, till I am here. 20
Cæs. And where wouldst thou be?
Arn. Oh, at peace--in peace!
Cæs. And where is that which is so? From the star To the winding worm, all life is motion; and In life commotion is the extremest point Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes A comet, and destroying as it sweeps The stars, goes out. The poor worm winds its way, Living upon the death of other things, But still, like them, must live and die, the subject Of something which has made it live and die. 30 You must obey what all obey, the rule Of fixed Necessity: against her edict Rebellion prospers not.
Arn. And when it prospers----
Cæs. 'Tis no rebellion.
Arn. Will it prosper now?
Cæs. The Bourbon hath given orders for the assault, And by the dawn there will be work.
Arn. Alas! And shall the city yield? I see the giant Abode of the true God, and his true saint, Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into That sky whence Christ ascended from the cross, 40 Which his blood made a badge of glory and Of joy (as once of torture unto him),-- God and God's Son, man's sole and only refuge!
Cæs. 'Tis there, and shall be.
Arn. What?
Cæs. The Crucifix Above, and many altar shrines below. Also some culverins upon the walls, And harquebusses, and what not; besides The men who are to kindle them to death Of other men.
Arn. And those scarce mortal arches,[232] Pile above pile of everlasting wall, 50 The theatre where Emperors and their subjects (Those subjects Romans) stood at gaze upon The battles of the monarchs of the wild And wood--the lion and his tusky rebels Of the then untamed desert, brought to joust In the arena--as right well they might, When they had left no human foe unconquered-- Made even the forest pay its tribute of Life to their amphitheatre, as well As Dacia men to die the eternal death 60 For a sole instant's pastime, and "Pass on To a new gladiator!"--Must it fall?
Cæs. The city, or the amphitheatre? The church, or one, or all? for you confound Both them and me.
Arn. To-morrow sounds the assault With the first cock-crow.
Cæs. Which, if it end with The evening's first nightingale, will be Something new in the annals of great sieges; For men must have their prey after long toil.
Arn. The sun goes down as calmly, and perhaps 70 More beautifully, than he did on Rome On the day Remus leapt her wall.
Cæs. I saw him.
Arn. You!
Cæs. Yes, Sir! You forget I am or was Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape, And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a hunch-back Now. Well! the first of Cæsars was a bald-head, And loved his laurels better as a wig (So history says) than as a glory.[233] Thus The world runs on, but we'll be merry still. I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) 80 Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb, Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest cement Was brother's blood; and if its native blood Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear The deep hue of the Ocean and the Earth, Which the great robber sons of fratricide Have made their never-ceasing scene of slaughter, For ages.
Arn. But what have these done, their far 90 Remote descendants, who have lived in peace, The peace of Heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety?
Cæs. And what had they done, whom the old Romans o'erswept?--Hark!
Arn. They are soldiers singing A reckless roundelay, upon the eve Of many deaths, it may be of their own.
Cæs. And why should they not sing as well as swans? They are black ones, to be sure.
Arn. So, you are learned, I see, too?
Cæs. In my grammar, certes. I Was educated for a monk of all times, 100 And once I was well versed in the forgotten Etruscan letters, and--were I so minded-- Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than Your alphabet.
Arn. And wherefore do you not?
Cæs. It answers better to resolve the alphabet Back into hieroglyphics. Like your statesman, And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels, without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the flood's dull ooze, 110 Who failed and fled each other. Why? why, marry, Because no man could understand his neighbour. They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth--their Koran--Talmud--their Cabala--their best brick-work, wherewithal They build more----
Arn. (interrupting him). Oh, thou everlasting sneerer! Be silent! How the soldier's rough strain seems Softened by distance to a hymn-like cadence! Listen!
Cæs. Yes. I have heard the angels sing. 120
Arn. And demons howl.
Cæs. And man, too. Let us listen: I love all music.
Song of the Soldiers within.
The black bands came over The Alps and their snow; With Bourbon, the rover, They passed the broad Po. We have beaten all foemen, We have captured a King[234], We have turned back on no men, And so let us sing! 130 Here's the Bourbon for ever! Though penniless all, We'll have one more endeavour At yonder old wall. With the Bourbon we'll gather At day-dawn before The gates, and together Or break or climb o'er The wall: on the ladder, As mounts each firm foot[dh], 140 Our shout shall grow gladder, And Death only be mute[235]. With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er The walls of old Rome, And who then shall count o'er[di] The spoils of each dome? Up! up with the Lily! And down with the Keys! In old Rome, the seven-hilly, We'll revel at ease. 150 Her streets shall be gory, Her Tiber all red, And her temples so hoary Shall clang with our tread. Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon[236]! The Bourbon for aye! Of our song bear the burden! And fire, fire away! With Spain for the vanguard, Our varied host comes; 160 And next to the Spaniard Beat Germany's drums; And Italy's lances Are couched at their mother; But our leader from France is, Who warred with his brother. Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon! Sans country or home, We'll follow the Bourbon, To plunder old Rome. 170
Cæs. An indifferent song For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.
Arn. Yes, if they keep to their chorus. But here comes The general with his chiefs and men of trust[dj]. A goodly rebel.
Enter the Constable BOURBON "cum suis," etc., etc.
Phil. How now, noble Prince, You are not cheerful?
Bourb. Why should I be so?
Phil. Upon the eve of conquest, such as ours, Most men would be so.
Bourb. If I were secure!
Phil. Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant, They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery. 180
Bourb. That they will falter is my least of fears. That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for Their chief, and all their kindled appetites To marshal them on--were those hoary walls Mountains, and those who guard them like the gods Of the old fables, I would trust my Titans;-- But now----
Phil. They are but men who war with mortals.
Bourb. True: but those walls have girded in great ages, And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth And present phantom of imperious Rome[dk] 190 Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks They flit along the eternal City's rampart, And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy hands, And beckon me away!
Phil. So let them! Wilt thou Turn back from shadowy menaces of shadows?
Bourb. They do not menace me. I could have faced, Methinks, a Sylla's menace; but they clasp, And raise, and wring their dim and deathlike hands, And with their thin aspen faces and fixed eyes Fascinate mine. Look there!
Phil. I look upon 200 A lofty battlement.
Bourb. And there!
Phil. Not even A guard in sight; they wisely keep below, Sheltered by the grey parapet from some Stray bullet of our lansquenets, who might Practise in the cool twilight.
Bourb. You are blind.
Phil. If seeing nothing more than may be seen Be so.
Bourb. A thousand years have manned the walls With all their heroes,--the last Cato[237] stands And tears his bowels, rather than survive The liberty of that I would enslave. 210 And the first Cassar with his triumphs flits From battlement to battlement.
Phil. Then conquer The walls for which he conquered and be greater!
Bourb. True: so I will, or perish.
Phil. You can not. In such an enterprise to die is rather The dawn of an eternal day, than death. [Count ARNOLD and CÆSAR advance.
Cæs. And the mere men--do they, too, sweat beneath The noon of this same ever-scorching glory?
Bourb. Ah! Welcome the bitter Hunchback! and his master, The beauty of our host, and brave as beauteous, 220 And generous as lovely. We shall find Work for you both ere morning.
Cæs. You will find, So please your Highness, no less for yourself.
Bourb. And if I do, there will not be a labourer More forward, Hunchback!
Cæs. You may well say so, For you have seen that back--as general, Placed in the rear in action--but your foes Have never seen it.
Bourb. That's a fair retort, For I provoked it:--but the Bourbon's breast Has been, and ever shall be, far advanced 230 In danger's face as yours, were you the devil.
Cæs. And if I were, I might have saved myself The toil of coming here.
Phil. Why so?
Cæs. One half Of your brave bands of their own bold accord Will go to him, the other half be sent, More swiftly, not less surely.
Bourb. Arnold, your Slight crooked friend's as snake-like in his words As his deeds.
Cæs. Your Highness much mistakes me. The first snake was a flatterer--I am none; And for my deeds, I only sting when stung. 240
Bourb. You are brave, and that's enough for me; and quick In speech as sharp in action--and that's more. I am not alone the soldier, but the soldiers' Comrade.
Cæs. They are but bad company, your Highness; And worse even for their friends than foes, as being More permanent acquaintance.
Phil. How now, fellow! Thou waxest insolent, beyond the privilege Of a buffoon.
Cæs. You mean I speak the truth. I'll lie--it is as easy: then you'll praise me For calling you a hero.
Bourb. Philibert! 250 Let him alone; he's brave, and ever has Been first, with that swart face and mountain shoulder, In field or storm, and patient in starvation; And for his tongue, the camp is full of licence, And the sharp stinging of a lively rogue Is, to my mind, far preferable to The gross, dull, heavy, gloomy execration Of a mere famished sullen grumbling slave,[dl] Whom nothing can convince save a full meal, And wine, and sleep, and a few Maravedis, 260 With which he deems him rich.
Cæs. It would be well If the earth's princes asked no more.
Bourb. Be silent!
Cæs. Aye, but not idle. Work yourself with words![dm] You have few to speak.
Phil. What means the audacious prater?
Cæs. To prate, like other prophets.
Bourb. Philibert! Why will you vex him? Have we not enough To think on? Arnold! I will lead the attack To-morrow.
Arn. I have heard as much, my Lord.
Bourb. And you will follow?
Arn. Since I must not lead.
Bourb. 'Tis necessary for the further daring Of our too needy army, that their chief Plant the first foot upon the foremost ladder's First step.
Cæs. Upon its topmost, let us hope: So shall he have his full deserts.
Bourb. The world's Great capital perchance is ours to-morrow.[dn] Through every change the seven-hilled city hath Retained her sway o'er nations, and the Cæsars But yielded to the Alarics, the Alarics Unto the pontiffs. Roman, Goth, or priest. Still the world's masters! Civilised, barbarian, Or saintly, still the walls of Romulus Have been the circus of an Empire. Well! 'Twas their turn--now 'tis ours; and let us hope That we will fight as well, and rule much better.
Cæs. No doubt, the camp's the school of civic rights. What would you make of Rome?
Bourb. That which it was.
Cæs. In Alaric's time?
Bourb. No, slave! in the first Cæsar's, Whose name you bear like other curs----
Cæs. And kings! 'Tis a great name for blood-hounds.
Bourb. There's a demon In that fierce rattlesnake thy tongue. Wilt never Be serious?
Cæs. On the eve of battle, no;-- That were not soldier-like. 'Tis for the general To be more pensive: we adventurers Must be more cheerful. Wherefore should we think? Our tutelar Deity, in a leader's shape, Takes care of us. Keep thought aloof from hosts! If the knaves take to thinking, you will have To crack those walls alone.
Bourb. You may sneer, since 'Tis lucky for you that you fight no worse for 't.
Cæs. I thank you for the freedom; 'tis the only 300 Pay I have taken in your Highness' service.
Bourb. Well, sir, to-morrow you shall pay yourself. Look on those towers; they hold my treasury: But, Philibert, we'll in to council. Arnold, We would request your presence.
Arn. Prince! my service Is yours, as in the field.
Bourb. In both we prize it, And yours will be a post of trust at daybreak.
Cæs. And mine?
Bourb. To follow glory with the Bourbon. Good night!
Arn. (to CÆSAR). Prepare our armour for the assault, And wait within my tent. [Exeunt BOURBON, ARNOLD, PHILIBERT, etc.
Cæs. (solus). Within thy tent! 310 Think'st thou that I pass from thee with my presence? Or that this crooked coffer, which contained Thy principle of life, is aught to me Except a mask? And these are men, forsooth! Heroes and chiefs, the flower of Adam's bastards! This is the consequence of giving matter The power of thought. It is a stubborn substance, And thinks chaotically, as it acts, Ever relapsing into its first elements. Well! I must play with these poor puppets: 'tis 320 The Spirit's pastime in his idler hours. When I grow weary of it, I have business Amongst the stars, which these poor creatures deem Were made for them to look at. 'Twere a jest now To bring one down amongst them, and set fire Unto their anthill: how the pismires then Would scamper o'er the scalding soil, and, ceasing From tearing down each other's nests, pipe forth One universal orison! ha! ha! [Exit CÆSAR.
Part II
SCENE I.--_Before the walls of Rome.--The Assault: the Army in motion, with ladders to scale the walls_;[238] BOURBON with a white scarf over his armour, foremost.
Chorus of Spirits in the air.
I.
'Tis the morn, but dim and dark.[do] Whither flies the silent lark? Whither shrinks the clouded sun? Is the day indeed begun? Nature's eye is melancholy O'er the city high and holy: But without there is a din Should arouse the saints within, And revive the heroic ashes Round which yellow Tiber dashes. 10 Oh, ye seven hills! awaken, Ere your very base be shaken!
II.
Hearken to the steady stamp! Mars is in their every tramp! Not a step is out of tune, As the tides obey the moon! On they march, though to self-slaughter, Regular as rolling water, Whose high-waves o'ersweep the border Of huge moles, but keep their order, 20 Breaking only rank by rank. Hearken to the armour's clank! Look down o'er each frowning warrior, How he glares upon the barrier: Look on each step of each ladder, As the stripes that streak an adder.
III.
Look upon the bristling wall, Manned without an interval! Round and round, and tier on tier, Cannon's black mouth, shining spear, 30 Lit match, bell-mouthed Musquetoon, Gaping to be murderous soon; All the warlike gear of old, Mixed with what we now behold, In this strife 'twixt old and new, Gather like a locusts' crew. Shade of Remus! 'tis a time Awful as thy brother's crime! Christians war against Christ's shrine:-- Must its lot be like to thine? 40
IV.
Near--and near--and nearer still, As the Earthquake saps the hill, First with trembling, hollow motion, Like a scarce awakened ocean, Then with stronger shock and louder, Till the rocks are crushed to powder,-- Onward sweeps the rolling host! Heroes of the immortal boast! Mighty Chiefs! eternal shadows! First flowers of the bloody meadows 50 Which encompass Rome, the mother Of a people without brother! Will you sleep when nations' quarrels Plough the root up of your laurels? Ye who weep o'er Carthage burning, Weep not--strike! for Rome is mourning![239]
V.
Onward sweep the varied nations! Famine long hath dealt their rations. To the wall, with hate and hunger, Numerous as wolves, and stronger, 60 On they sweep. Oh, glorious City! Must thou be a theme for pity? Fight, like your first sire, each Roman! Alaric was a gentle foeman, Matched with Bourbon's black banditti! Rouse thee, thou eternal City; Rouse thee! Rather give the torch With thine own hand to thy porch,[dp] Than behold such hosts pollute Your worst dwelling with their foot. 70
VI.
Ah! behold yon bleeding spectre! Ilion's children find no Hector; Priam's offspring loved their brother; Rome's great sire forgot his mother, When he slew his gallant twin, With inexpiable sin. See the giant shadow stride O'er the ramparts high and wide! When the first o'erleapt thy wall, Its foundation mourned thy fall. 80 Now, though towering like a Babel, Who to stop his steps are able? Stalking o'er thy highest dome, Remus claims his vengeance, Rome!
VII.
Now they reach thee in their anger: Fire and smoke and hellish clangour Are around thee, thou world's wonder! Death is in thy walls and under. Now the meeting steel first clashes, Downward then the ladder crashes, 90 With its iron load all gleaming, Lying at its foot blaspheming! Up again! for every warrior Slain, another climbs the barrier. Thicker grows the strife: thy ditches Europe's mingling gore enriches. Rome! although thy wall may perish, Such manure thy fields will cherish, Making gay the harvest-home; But thy hearths, alas! oh, Rome!-- 100 Yet be Rome amidst thine anguish, Fight as thou wast wont to vanquish!
VIII.
Yet once more, ye old Penates! Let not your quenched hearts be Atés! Yet again, ye shadowy Heroes, Yield not to these stranger Neros! Though the son who slew his mother Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother: 'Twas the Roman curbed the Roman;-- Brennus was a baffled foeman. 110 Yet again, ye saints and martyrs, Rise! for yours are holier charters! Mighty Gods of temples falling, Yet in ruin still appalling! Mightier Founders of those altars, True and Christian,--strike the assaulters! Tiber! Tiber! let thy torrent Show even Nature's self abhorrent. Let each breathing heart dilated Turn, as doth the lion baited! 120 Rome be crashed to one wide tomb, But be still the Roman's Rome![240]
[BOURBON, ARNOLD, CÆSAR, and others, arrive at the foot of the wall. ARNOLD is about to plant his ladder.
Bourb. Hold, Arnold! I am first.
Arn. Not so, my Lord.
Bourb. Hold, sir, I charge you! Follow! I am proud Of such a follower, but will brook no leader. [BOURBON plants his ladder, and begins to mount. Now, boys! On! on! [A shot strikes him, and BOURBON falls.
Cæs. And off!
Arn. Eternal powers! The host will be appalled,--but vengeance! vengeance!
Bourb. 'Tis nothing--lend me your hand.
[BOURBON takes ARNOLD by the hand, and rises; but as he puts his foot on the step, falls again.
Arnold! I am sped. Conceal my fall[241]--all will go well--conceal it! Fling my cloak o'er what will be dust anon; 130 Let not the soldiers see it.
Arn. You must be Removed; the aid of----
Bourb. No, my gallant boy! Death is upon me. But what is one life? The Bourbon's spirit shall command them still. Keep them yet ignorant that I am but clay, Till they are conquerors--then do as you may.
Cæs. Would not your Highness choose to kiss the cross? We have no priest here, but the hilt of sword May serve instead:--it did the same for Bayard[242].
Bourb. Thou bitter slave! to name him at this time! 140 But I deserve it.
Arn. (to CÆSAR). Villain, hold your peace!
Cæs. What, when a Christian dies? Shall I not offer A Christian "Vade in pace[243]?"
Arn. Silence! Oh! Those eyes are glazing which o'erlooked the world, And saw no equal.
Bourb. Arnold, shouldst thou see France----But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer--Oh! For but an hour, a minute more of life, To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold, hence! You lose time--they will conquer Rome without thee.
Arn. And without thee.
Bourb. Not so; I'll lead them still 150 In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe not That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be Victorious.
Arn. But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourb. You must--farewell--Up! up! the world is winning. [BOURBON dies.
Cæs. (to ARNOLD). Come, Count, to business.
Arn. True. I'll weep hereafter.
[ARNOLD covers BOURBON'S body with a mantle, mounts the ladder, crying
The Bourbon! Bourbon! On, boys! Rome is ours!
Cæs. Good night, Lord Constable! thou wert a Man.
[CÆSAR follows ARNOLD; they reach the battlement; ARNOLD and CÆSAR are struck down.
Cæs. A precious somerset! Is your countship injured?
Arn. No. [Remounts the ladder.
Cæs. A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated! And 'tis no boy's play. Now he strikes them down! 160 His hand is on the battlement--he grasps it As though it were an altar; now his foot Is on it, and----What have we here?--a Roman? The first bird of the covey! he has fallen [A man falls. On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow?
Wounded Man. A drop of water!
Cæs. Blood's the only liquid Nearer than Tiber.
Wounded Man. I have died for Rome. [Dies.
Cæs. And so did Bourbon, in another sense. Oh, these immortal men! and their great motives! But I must after my young charge. He is 170 By this time i' the Forum. Charge! charge! [CÆSAR mounts the ladder; the scene closes.
SCENE II.--The City.--Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.
Enter CÆSAR.
Cæs. I cannot find my hero; he is mixed With the heroic crowd that now pursue The fugitives, or battle with the desperate. What have we here? A Cardinal or two That do not seem in love with martyrdom. How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be A blessing, as a mark[244] the less for plunder. But let them fly; the crimson kennels now Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire 10 Is of the self-same purple hue.
Enter a Party fighting--ARNOLD at the head of the Besiegers.
He comes, Hand in hand with the mild twins--Gore and Glory.[dq] Holla! hold, Count!
Arn. Away! they must not rally.
Cæs. I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee A form of beauty, and an Exemption from some maladies of body, But not of mind, which is not mine to give. But though I gave the form of Thetis' son, I dipped thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe 20 I would not warrant thy chivalric heart More than Pelides' heel; why, then, be cautious, And know thyself a mortal still.
Arn. And who With aught of soul would combat if he were Invulnerable? That were pretty sport. Think'st thou I beat for hares when lions roar? [ARNOLD rushes into the combat.
Cæs. A precious sample of humanity! Well, his blood's up; and, if a little's shed, 'Twill serve to curb his fever.
[ARNOLD engages with a Roman, who retires towards a portico.
Arn. Yield thee, slave! I promise quarter.
Rom. That's soon said.
Arn. And done---- 30 My word is known.
Rom. So shall be my deeds. [They re-engage. CÆSAR comes forward.
Cæs. Why, Arnold! hold thine own: thou hast in hand A famous artisan, a cunning sculptor; Also a dealer in the sword and dagger. Not so, my musqueteer; 'twas he who slew The Bourbon from the wall.[245]
Arn. Aye, did he so? Then he hath carved his monument.
Rom. I yet May live to carve your better's.
Cæs. Well said, my man of marble! Benvenuto, Thou hast some practice in both ways; and he 40 Who slays Cellini will have worked as hard As e'er thou didst upon Carrara's blocks.
[ARNOLD disarms and wounds CELLINI, hit slightly: the latter draws a pistol, and fires; then retires, and disappears through the portico.
Cæs. How farest thou? Thou hast a taste, methinks, Of red Bellona's banquet.
Arn. (staggers). 'Tis a scratch. Lend me thy scarf. He shall not 'scape me thus.
Cæs. Where is it?
Arn. In the shoulder, not the sword arm-- And that's enough. I am thirsty: would I had A helm of water!
Cæs. That's a liquid now In requisition, but by no means easiest To come at.
Arn. And my thirst increases;--but 50 I'll find a way to quench it.
Cæs. Or be quenched Thyself.
Arn. The chance is even; we will throw The dice thereon. But I lose time in prating; Prithee be quick. [CÆSAR binds on the scarf. And what dost thou so idly? Why dost not strike?
Cæs. Your old philosophers Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of The Olympic games. When I behold a prize Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo.[246]
Arn. Aye, 'gainst an oak.
Cæs. A forest, when it suits me: I combat with a mass, or not at all. 60 Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine; Which is just now to gaze, since all these labourers Will reap my harvest gratis.
Arn. Thou art still A fiend!
Cæs. And thou--a man.
Arn. Why, such I fain would show me.[dr]
Cæs. True--as men are.
Arn. And what is that?
Cæs. Thou feelest and thou see'st.
[Exit ARNOLD, _joining in the combat which still continues between detached parties. The scene closes_.
SCENE III.--_St. Peter's--The interior of the Church--The Pope at the Altar--Priests, etc., crowding in confusion, and Citizens flying for refuge, pursued by Soldiery_.
Enter CÆSAR.
A Spanish Soldier. Down with them, comrades, seize upon those lamps! Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the chine! His rosary's of gold!
Lutheran Soldier. Revenge! revenge! Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance now-- Yonder stands Anti-Christ!
Cæs. (interposing). How now, schismatic? What wouldst thou?
Luth. Sold. In the holy name of Christ, Destroy proud Anti-Christ.[247] I am a Christian.
Cæs. Yea, a disciple that would make the founder Of your belief renounce it, could he see Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder. 10
Luth. Sold. I say he is the Devil.
Cæs. Hush! keep that secret,[ds] Lest he should recognise you for his own.
Luth. Sold. Why would you save him? I repeat he is The Devil, or the Devil's vicar upon earth.
Cæs. And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel With your best friends? You had far best be quiet; His hour is not yet come.
Luth. Sold. That shall be seen!
[The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar.
Cæs. (to the Lutheran). I told you so.
Luth. Sold. And will you not avenge me?
Cæs. Not I! You know that "Vengeance is the Lord's:" You see he loves no interlopers.
Luth. Sold. (dying). Oh! 20 Had I but slain him, I had gone on high, Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive My feebleness of arm that reached him not, And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth And ashes! [The Lutheran dies.
Cæs. Yes, thine own amidst the rest. Well done, old Babel!
[The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo.[248]
Cæs. Ha! right nobly battled! Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions, 30 Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then; Now they must take their turn.
Soldiers. He hath escaped! Follow!
Another Sold. They have barred the narrow passage up, And it is clogged with dead even to the door.
Cæs. I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't In part. I would not have his bulls abolished-- 'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences Demand some in return; no, no, he must not 40 Fall;--and besides, his now escape may furnish A future miracle, in future proof Of his infallibility. [To the Spanish Soldiery. Well, cut-throats! What do you pause for? If you make not haste, There will not be a link of pious gold left. And you, too, Catholics! Would ye return From such a pilgrimage without a relic? The very Lutherans have more true devotion: See how they strip the shrines!
Soldiers. By holy Peter! He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear 50 The best away.
Cæs. And that were shame! Go to! Assist in their conversion. [The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Church, others enter.
Cæs. They are gone, And others come: so flows the wave on wave Of what these creatures call Eternity, Deeming themselves the breakers of the Ocean, While they are but its bubbles, ignorant That foam is their foundation. So, another!
Enter OLIMPIA, _flying from the pursuit--She springs upon the Altar_.
Sold. She's mine!
Another Sold. (opposing the former). You lie, I tracked her first: and were she The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. [They fight.
3d Sold. (advancing towards OLIMPIA). You may settle Your claims; I'll make mine good.
Olimp. Infernal slave! 60 You touch me not alive.
3d Sold. Alive or dead!
Olimp. (embracing a massive crucifix). Respect your God!
3d Sold. Yes, when he shines in gold. Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
[As he advances, OLIMPIA, with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls.
3d Sold. Oh, great God!
Olimp. Ah! now you recognise him.
3d Sold. My brain's crushed! Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness! [He dies.
Other Soldiers (coming up). Slay her, although she had a thousand lives: She hath killed our comrade.
Olimp. Welcome such a death! You have no life to give, which the worst slave Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming Son, And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as 70 I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee!
Enter ARNOLD.
Arn. What do I see? Accurséd jackals! Forbear!
Cæs. (aside and laughing). Ha! ha! here's equity! The dogs Have as much right as he. But to the issue!
Soldiers. Count, she hath slain our comrade.
Arn. With what weapon?
Sold. The cross, beneath which he is crushed; behold him Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it Upon his head.
Arn. Even so: there is a woman Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye such, Ye would have honoured her. But get ye hence, 80 And thank your meanness, other God you have none, For your existence. Had you touched a hair Of those dishevelled locks, I would have thinned Your ranks more than the enemy. Away! Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves, But not even these till he permits.
A Sold. (murmuring). The lion Might conquer for himself then.
Arn. (cuts him down). Mutineer! Rebel in hell--you shall obey on earth! [The Soldiers assault ARNOLD.
Arn. Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, slaves, How you should be commanded, and who led you 90 First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale, Until I waved my banners from its height, As you are bold within it. [ARNOLD mows down the foremost; the rest throw down their arms.
Soldiers. Mercy! mercy!
Arn. Then learn to grant it. Have I taught you who Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements?
Soldiers. We saw it, and we know it; yet forgive A moment's error in the heat of conquest-- The conquest which you led to.
Arn. Get you hence! Hence to your quarters! you will find them fixed In the Colonna palace.
Olimp. (aside). In my father's 100 House!
Arn. (to the Soldiers). Leave your arms; ye have no further need Of such: the city's rendered. And mark well You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a stream As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism.
Soldiers (deposing their arms and departing). We obey!
Arn. (to OLIMPIA). Lady, you are safe.
Olimp. I should be so, Had I a knife even; but it matters not-- Death hath a thousand gates; and on the marble, Even at the altar foot, whence I look down Upon destruction, shall my head be dashed, Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man! 110
Arn. I wish to merit his forgiveness, and Thine own, although I have not injured thee.
Olimp. No! Thou hast only sacked my native land,-- No injury!--and made my father's house A den of thieves! No injury!--this temple-- Slippery with Roman and with holy gore! No injury! And now thou wouldst preserve me, To be----but that shall never be!
[_She raises her eyes to Heaven, folds her robe round her, and prepares to dash herself down on the side of the Altar opposite to that where_ ARNOLD stands.
Arn. Hold! hold! I swear.
Olimp. Spare thine already forfeit soul A perjury for which even Hell would loathe thee. 120 I know thee.
Arn. No, thou know'st me not; I am not Of these men, though----
Olimp. I judge thee by thy mates; It is for God to judge thee as thou art. I see thee purple with the blood of Rome; Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me, And here, upon the marble of this temple, Where the baptismal font baptized me God's, I offer him a blood less holy But not less pure (pure as it left me then, A redeeméd infant) than the holy water 130 The saints have sanctified!
[OLIMPIA waves her hand to ARNOLD with disdain, and dashes herself on the pavement from the Altar.
Arn. Eternal God! I feel thee now! Help! help! she's gone.
Cæs. (approaches). I am here.
Arn. Thou! but oh, save her!
Cæs. (assisting him to raise OLIMPIA). She hath done it well! The leap was serious.
Arn. Oh! she is lifeless!
Cæs. If She be so, I have nought to do with that: The resurrection is beyond me.
Arn. Slave!
Cæs. Aye, slave or master, 'tis all one: methinks Good words, however, are as well at times.
Arn. Words!--Canst thou aid her?
Cæs. I will try. A sprinkling Of that same holy water may be useful. 140 [He brings some in his helmet from the font.
Arn. 'Tis mixed with blood.
Cæs. There is no cleaner now In Rome.
Arn. How pale! how beautiful! how lifeless! Alive or dead, thou Essence of all Beauty, I love but thee!
Cæs. Even so Achilles loved Penthesilea;[249] with his form it seems You have his heart, and yet it was no soft one.
Arn. She breathes! But no, 'twas nothing, or the last Faint flutter Life disputes with Death.
Cæs. She breathes.
Arn. Thou say'st it? Then 'tis truth.
Cæs. You do me right-- The Devil speaks truth much oftener than he's deemed: 150 He hath an ignorant audience.
Arn. (without attending to him). Yes! her heart beats. Alas! that the first beat of the only heart I ever wished to beat with mine should vibrate To an assassin's pulse.
Cæs. A sage reflection, But somewhat late i' the day. Where shall we bear her? I say she lives.
Arn. And will she live?
Cas. As much As dust can.
Arn. Then she is dead!
Cæs. Bah! bah! You are so, And do not know it. She will come to life-- Such as you think so, such as you now are; But we must work by human means.
Arn. We will 160 Convey her unto the Colonna palace, Where I have pitched my banner.
Cæs. Come then! raise her up!
Arn. Softly!
Cæs. As softly as they bear the dead, Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting.
Arn. But doth she live indeed?
Cæs. Nay, never fear! But, if you rue it after, blame not me.
Arn. Let her but live!
Cæs. The Spirit of her life Is yet within her breast, and may revive. Count! count! I am your servant in all things, And this is a new office:--'tis not oft 170 I am employed in such; but you perceive How staunch a friend is what you call a fiend. On earth you have often only fiends for friends; Now I desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence, The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit! I am almost enamoured of her, as Of old the Angels of her earliest sex.[250]
Arn. Thou!
Cæs. I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival.
Arn. Rival!
Cæs. I could be one right formidable; But since I slew the seven husbands of 180 Tobias' future bride (and after all Was smoked out by some incense),[251] I have laid Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble Of gaining, or--what is more difficult-- Getting rid of your prize again; for there's The rub! at least to mortals.
Arn. Prithee, peace! Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes open!
Cæs. Like stars, no doubt; for that's a metaphor For Lucifer and Venus.
Arn. To the palace Colonna, as I told you!
Cæs. Oh! I know 190 My way through Rome.
Arn. Now onward, onward! Gently! [Exeunt, bearing OLIMPIA. The scene closes.