University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV

Scene.—The same—glittering starlight
Enter various servants bearing wine-jars and dishes from the inner supper-room, in procession. Then Burrus, Seneca, Anicetus, and Tigellinus
Burrus.
'Tis not man's work to witness this. I have fought
Neck-deep in blood and spared not when the fit
Was on me, but I cannot gaze on this.
Have you a heart, old man?

Tigellinus.
No, not in hours
Like these: the brain is all. I fear, I fear him
The last farewell—he will not bear it out!

Seneca.
How to excuse my soul, yet I am here.
Was this mere acting, or a true emotion?

Anicetus.
A little of both, but most, I fear it, true.

Tigellinus.
Is all prepared and timed? No hazard left?

Anicetus.
Yonder the barge with lights and fluttering flags.
The canopy whereunder Agrippina
Will sit is heavily weighted: at a sign
A bolt withdrawn will launch it on her head.

Enter Nero
Nero.
I cannot do it: if she goes, she goes.
I cannot say farewell, and kiss her lips,
Ere I commit her body to the deep.

Tigellinus.
All hangs upon the fervour of farewell,
The kiss, the soft word, and the hand detained,
All hangs on it; go back.

Nero.
'Tis difficult.
[Nero turns. Enter Agrippina.
Come out into the cool a moment, mother.

Agrippina.
This seemeth like to old days come again,
Evenings of Antium with a rising moon.
[Stroking his hair.
My boy, my boy, again! Look in my eyes.
So as a babe would you look up at me
After a night of tossing, half-awake,
Blinking against the dawn, and pull my head
Down to you, till I lost you in my hair.
Do you remember many a night so thick
With stars as this—you would not go to bed,
But still would paddle in the warm ocean
Spraying it with small hands into the skies.

Nero.
Yes, I remember.

Agrippina.
Or when you would sail
In a slight skiff under a moon like this,
Though chidden oft and oft.

Nero.
Ah! I recall it.

Agrippina.
A wilful child—the sea—ever the sea—
Your mother could not hold you from the sea.
Will you be sore if I confess a thought?

Nero.
Ah! no, mother!

Agrippina.
So foolish it seems now.
Awhile I doubted whether I should come.

Nero.
Why, then?

Agrippina.
Now, do not laugh at me—I say
You will not laugh at me?

Nero.
No!

Agrippina.
Why—I thought
That you perhaps would kill me if I came!
Truly I did!

Nero.
I kill you!

Agrippina.
‘O,’ I said,
‘I have wearied him: he is weary of his mother.’

Nero.
Oh!

Agrippina.
In my ears there buzzed that prophecy—
‘Nero shall reign but he shall kill his mother.’

[Nero starts.
Agrippina.
Now—now—I had not told you had I not
Been above measure happy. Now no more
Wild words, no more mad words between us two,
Who all the while are aching to be friends.
O how your hands come waxen once again
Within my own: again behind your voice
The hesitating tardy bird-like word
And the sweet slur of ‘r's.’ O but to-night
Even grandeur palls, the splendid goal: to-night
I am a woman and am with my child.
[A pause and she strains him to her.
Beautiful night that gently bringest back
Mother to son, and callest all thy stars
To watch it. Quiet sea that bringest peace
Between us two. Hast thou not thought how still
The air is as with silent pleasure? Child,
Is not the night then more than common calm?

Nero.
A sparkling starlight and a windless deep.

Agrippina.
Never until to-night did I so feel
The lure of the sea that lures me to lie down
At last after such heat. Ah, but the stars
Are falling and I feel the unseen dawn.
Son, I must go at once. Where is my maid
To wrap me? Sweet and warm now is the night
And I am glad I had prepared to go
By water, not by land.

Enter Servant, hurriedly
Servant.
O Caesar!

Nero.
Well?

Servant.
Thy mother's galley by a random barge
Was struck, and now is sinking fast.

Agrippina.
Alas!
Now must I go by land.

Nero.
Yes, go by land.

[Tigellinus signals to Anicetus.
Anicetus.
Yonder there lies a barge with fluttering flags,
A gilded pinnace, a light pleasure-boat
Built for you with much art and well designed.
Will you return in her? Easily she
Can swing round to the landing-stage.

Agrippina.
Yes—yes—
I'll go in her—Why not?

Nero.
It was foretold—

Enter Acceronia, who elaborately wraps Agrippina
Agrippina.
Nero, my maid a moment to enwrap me.
[As the wrapping is finished.
I have slept ill of late: but I shall have
A soft and steady breeze across the bay.
I shall sleep sound. Now, Nero, now good-bye.
For ever we are friends?

Nero.
Good-bye: yet stay!
[During this dialogue he is continually detaining her.
Have I been kind, this last hour? Say.

Agrippina.
Most kind.

Nero.
You have no need to go this moment—one
More moment of thee, mother.

Agrippina.
You shall see me
To-morrow. Will you cross the bay to me,
Or shall I come to you?

Nero.
I'll come to you
To-morrow! Ah! to-morrow! But to-night.
Now let me have you once more in my arms.
[Detaining her.
Is old Cynisca with you still?

Agrippina.
[Going.]
She is.

Nero.
Stay, stay, give her this ring: she nursed me.

Agrippina.
Yes.
I see you have my amulet.

Nero.
O yes.

Agrippina.
So bright the night you'll see me all the way
Across the shining water.

Nero.
[Clinging to her.]
O farewell!

Agrippina.
[Descends to water.]
Goodnight, child! I shall see you then tomorrow.
Already it hath dawned.

Nero.
Mother, good-night.

[Exit Agrippina.
Tigellinus.
[To crew in barge.]
Strike up the music there, a joyous strain!
And sing, you boatmen; the Augusta comes.

[Sounds of joyful music are heard, and singing, as the pinnace puts off with measured beat of oars.
Nero.
It hath put off: she hath gone: she sitteth happy.
See, the dead woman waves her hand to me.
Now the bark turns the headland.

Anicetus.
But will soon
Steal into sight, well out upon the bay.

Tigellinus.
Caesar, let none deny thou art an actor

Nero.
[Passionately.]
Was I all actor then? That which I feigned
I felt, and when it was my cue to kiss her,
The whole of childhood rushed into the kiss.
When it was in my part to cling about her,
I clung about her mad with memories.
The water in my eyes rose from my soul,
And flooding from the heart ran down my cheek.
Did my voice tremble? Then it trembled true
With human agony behind the art.
Gods! What a scene!

Tigellinus.
Listen!

Anicetus.
She is well out,
Glassed in the bay with all her lights and flags.
Soon will a crash and cry come in our ears.

Nero.
[Going out.]
How calm the night when I would have it wild!
Aloof and bright which should have rushed to me
Hither with aid of thunder, screen of lightning!
I looked for reinforcement from the sky.
Arise, you veiling clouds; awake, you winds,
And stifle with your roaring human cries.
Not a breath upon my cheek! I gasp for air.
[To Others.]
Do you suppose the very elements
Are conscious of the workings of this mind?
So careful not to seem to share my guilt?
Yet dark is the record of wind and wave;
This ocean that creeps fawning to our feet
Comes purring o'er a million wrecks and bones.
If the cold moon hath sinned not, she hath been privy.
She aids me not, but watches quietly.
A placid sea, still air, and bright starlight.

Anicetus.
But Caesar, see, a gradual cloud hath spread
Over the moon; the ship's light disappears.
She is vanished.

Nero.
She is veiled from sight.

Tigellinus.
My eyes
Can find her not; she is enwrapped in mist.

Seneca.
A dimness and no more.

Burrus.
And silence.

Nero.
Hush!
How wonderful this waiting and this pause.
Could one convey this in the theatre?
This deep suspense, this breathlessness? Perhaps.
The air weighs on the brain—what sound was that?

Tigellinus.
Nothing, sir.

Nero.
In this thrill a leaf would thunder.
[A pause.
I never noted so exactly how
The shadow of that cypress falls aslant
Upon the dark bank yonder.

Burrus.
Would it were over!

Nero.
Feel you no shuddering pleasure in this pause?
But me this fraught expectancy allures;
The tingling stillness, for each moment now
The crash, a cry, may come, but it comes not.

Tigellinus.
Anicetus, have you bungled?

[A cry is heard far off, and a crash, then silence.
Nero.
It is done.
I cannot look: peer seaward, one of you—
What do you see?

Seneca.
Darkness, and veilèd stars.

Nero.
Is there no shimmer of a floating robe?
Pierce through the darkness!

Burrus.
Nothing visible.

Nero.
I seem to see her lying amid shells,
And strange sea-things come round her wondering,
Inspecting her with cold and rheumy eyes.
The water sways her helpless up and down.

Burrus.
Caesar, you have no further need of me?

Nero.
[Dreamily.]
No, sir.

Burrus.
Good-night, and pleasant be thy dreams.

Seneca.
Or me?

Nero.
No, no!

Seneca.
At least bear witness, sir,
I had no hand in this: but was compelled,
A loth spectator, to behold thy deed!

Anicetus.
Caesar, you'll not forget the service done?

Nero.
Never shall I forget thee, Anicetus.
Leave me alone.

[Exeunt all but Tigellinus, who creeps back again.
Tigellinus.
Sole master of the world!
Caesar at last: the Emperor of the earth,
Now thou art free—to write immortal verse,
To give thy genius wing, to strike the stars.
And thou hast made this tragic sacrifice,
Slaying what is most dear, most close to thee,
To give thy being vent and utterance.
Apollo shall reward thee for this deed.

Nero.
Go to thy room, old man, and—wilt thou sleep?

Tigellinus.
Already I am drowsing; early then
To-morrow I will come to you.

Nero.
Good-night.

Tigellinus.
Caesar, good-night.
[Exit Tigellinus.

[Thunder heard.
Nero.
Ah! thunder! thou art come
At last, too late! What catches at my heart?
I—I—her boy, her baby that was, even I
Have killed her: where I sucked there have I struck.
Mother! Mother!
[He drinks.
The anguish of it hath taken hold of me,
And I am gripped by Nature. O, it comes
Upon me, this too natural remorse.
I faint! I flinch from the raw agony!
I cannot face this common human throe!
Ah! Ah! the crude stab of reality!
I am a son, and I have killed my mother!
Why! I am now no more than him who tills
Or reaps: and I am seized by primal pangs.
Mother!
[He drinks.
The thunder crieth motherless.
Ah! how this sword of lightning thrusts at me!
O, all the artist in my soul is shattered,
And I am hurled into humanity,
Back to the sweat and heart-break of mankind.
I am broken upon the jagged spurs of the earth.
I can no more endure it. Mother!

[He drinks again, walking distractedly to and fro, not looking seaward. But as he at last turns, slowly out from the sea appears the figure of Agrippina with dripping hair, who comes slowly towards him in silence.
[He cries aloud and falls in a swoon. She comes and looks at him.
Agrippina.
Child!

[She stoops, removes the amulet from his arm, flings it into the sea, and passes out in silence.