University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

An apartment in the imperial palace, with a view through a grand arched door of another apartment, in which are discovered Constantine, Othus, Justiniani, Rodrigo, and others, arising from a council table. They enter and come forward.
Con.
Well, my brave friends, I to your care intrust
This last attempt by honourable treaty
To gain peace from the foe. Heav'n bless your efforts!

Jus.
All that strict honour will permit to us
Shall be most truly done, imperial lord,
And one step farther on we cannot go.

Con.
Had I wish'd more than this, Justiniani,
I had sent other ministers.—
Heav'n bless your efforts, brave ambassadors,
And make you wise as brave!
If we succeed not,
As much I fear, it is my earnest wish,
Ere the grand push that shall our fate decide,
To meet you all in blessed charity,
And join with you, perhaps, in the last rites
Of Christian worship that within our walls
Shall e'er be celebrated.

Othus.
Your wish shall be fulfill'd: we all desire it.

Con.
I thank you. In an hour hence be prepared
To set out for the Sultan's camp. So brothers,
Good day, and all good favour!

[Exeunt all but Constantine and Othus.
Con.
(to Othus, as he is about to go after the others).
Wilt thou go also, Othus?

Othus.
Not if your highness does command my stay.

Con.
Ah, gentle friend! I do no more command!
But this distresses thee. Well, gen'rous man,
Thou art commanded.
[Pointing to a seat, and they both sit.
Here, by thy friendly side,
I'll give my heart a little breathing space;
For oh! the gen'rous love of these brave men,
Holding thus nobly to my sinking fate,
Presses it sorely.
From thee nor from myself can I conceal
The hopeless state in which I am beset.
No foreign prince a brother's hand extends
In this my hour of need; no Christian state
Sends forth its zealous armies to defend
This our begirded cross: within our walls,
Though with th' addition of our later friends,
I cannot number soldiers e'en sufficient
To hold a petty town 'gainst such vast odds.
I needs must smile and wear a brow of hope,
But with thee, gentle Othus, I put off
All form and seeming; I am what I am,
A weak and heart-rent man.—Wilt thou forgive me?
For I in truth must weep.

Othus.
Yes, unrestrained weep, thou valiant soul
With many a wave o'er-ridden! Thou striv'st nobly
Where hearts of sterner stuff perhaps had sunk:
And o'er thy fall, if it be so decreed,
Good men will mourn, and brave men will shed tears,
Kindred to those which now thou shedst. Thy name
Shall in succeeding ages be remember'd,
When those of mighty monarchs are forgot.

Con.
Deceive me not; thy love deceiveth thee.
Men's actions to futurity appear
But as th' events to which they are conjoin'd
Do give them consequence. A fallen state,
In age and weakness fall'n, no hero hath;
For none remain behind unto whose pride
The cherish'd mem'ry of his acts pertains.
O no, good Othus, fame I look not for.
But to sustain in heav'n's all-seeing eye,
Before my fellow men, in mine own sight,
With graceful virtue and becoming pride,
The dignity and honour of a man,
Thus station'd as I am, I will do all
That man may do, and I will suffer all—
My heart within me cries, that man can suffer.
[Starting up with vehemence, and holding up both hands firmly clenched.
Shall low-born men on scaffolds firmly tread,
For that their humble townsmen should not blush
And shall I shrink? No, by the living God!
I will not shrink, albeit I shed these tears.

Othus.
To be in toils and perils, any in sufferings,
With th' applauding sympathy of men
Upon his side, is to the noble mind
A state of happiness beyond the bliss
Of calm inglorious ease.

Con.
O no, good Othus! thou misjudgest of me.
I would, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut
Have spent my peaceful days, and shared my crust
With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far
Than on this throne; but, being what I am,
I'll be it nobly.

Othus.
Yes, thou wilt be it nobly, spirit as brave
As e'er wore Cæsar's name!

Con.
(smiling sorrowfully).
Yes, there is cause for me; there is good cause.
But for those valiant men, link'd in my fate,
Who have in other lands their peaceful homes
And dear domestic ties, on whom no claim
Lays its strong hold—alas! what cause have they?
What is their recompense? Fame is not mine;
And unto them—O this doth press my heart!
A heart surcharged with many cares, and press'd
With that besides, which more than all—with that
Which I have wrestled with—which I have striv'n—
With that which comes between me and myself—
The self that as a Christian and a man
I strongly strove to be—

Othus.
You have before some secret cause of trouble
Hinted in broken words: will not your highness
Unto a faithful friend—

Con.
(turning away from him).
No, no, good Othus!
Sometimes I dream like a distracted man,
And nurse dark fancies. Power and lawless will—
Defenceless beauty—Mahomet—Valeria—
Shape out of these wild words whate'er thou wilt,
For I can say no more.

Othus.
Alas, I know it all!

Con.
And yet why should it thus disturb my mind?
A thought, perhaps, that in no other breast
Hath any shelter found.—It is my weakness:
I am ashamed of it.—I can look
On my short fated span and its dark bound:
I can, God strength'ning me, my earthly task
Close as becomes a king; and, being closed,
To that which in this world's tumultuous stage
Shall happen after it, I am as nothing.

Othus.
Alas! my royal master, do not thus
To racking thoughts give way! are there not means
To free you from this pain, if you to use them
Have courage? Let the empress be convey'd
Far from these walls. It is a cruel remedy,
But it will give you peace.

Con.
I did attempt it, but she has so closely
Entwined herself upon me—O, my friend,
It needs must pass! I in th'unconscious grave
Shall be at rest.

Othus.
But does she know the nature of your fears?

Con.
O no! she does not! from that hateful subject,
As from a hideous serpent, still with her
I've kept aloof.—Alas! what can I do?
I could as well into her noble heart
Thrust the barb'd dart, as tell her what I fear.

Othus.
Perhaps she still, as from the common horrors
Of a sack'd town, may be conjured to flee.
And here she comes: be it at least attempted.

Enter Valeria, Lucia, and attendant Ladies.
Val.
(to Constantine).
I come to claim thy promise: one short hour,
A hasty sunbeam through the cloud's dark skirt,
Thou giv'st to me, and I must claim my right.
Thy friends, too, ere they go, shall be my guests;
I have brought powerful suitors to assist me.
[Pointing to her ladies.
Ha! what disturbs thee? how is this, my love?
Thy face is changed and troubled—What new cause—

Con.
O, no new cause! one that has much disturb'd me.

Val.
And one to me unknown?

Con.
Speak to her, Othus!

Othus.
By many various ills and cares oppress'd,
Your royal lord is still most closely touch'd
With that which does your weal regard. What fate
May, in a storm-ta'en city, of dire sights
And horrid cruelties, have in reserve,
If such the city's doom, who can foresee?
O, let him then his painful station hold,
Gen'rous Valeria! from one care relieved,
His heaviest care, the thought of leaving thee
The involved witness of such horrid things!

Val.
What wouldst thou say in this? Thinkst thou the ruin
In which he perishes will have for me
Or form or circumstances? It will be
Th' upbreaking crash of all existing things,
That undistinguish'd is, and felt but once.
Othus, thou talkst like an unskilful sage:
It was not thus thy master bade thee speak.

Con.
Valeria, hard necessity compels us.
I have already safe asylum sought
For the last tender remnant of our race,
That something might from this dire wreck be saved,
And shall I not for thee—

Val.
No; I am nothing
But what I am for thee! When that is finish'd—

Con.
Ah, my Valeria, but that will not finish!
Thou still mayst be for me—thou still mayst bear
Honour'd memorial amongst living men
Of him who was thy lord.—Good Lucia, aid me,
And gentle Servia, too, and all of you!
[To the ladies.
Cling round your mistress with your soothing love,
And say that in a foreign land you'll be
The faithful friends and soothers of her woe,
Where ev'ry virtuous heart will bear to her
The kindred ties of holiest sympathy.
Say ye will be with her in kindliest zeal:
Ye will not leave her?

Lucia and the other ladies.
No, we'll never leave her!
[Gathering round her affectionately.
Most dear and royal mistress, whilst life holds,
In whate'er land, in whate'er state you are,
We'll never leave you.

Val.
I know it well: thanks to your gen'rous love!
But yet forbear, nor thus beset me round!
[Putting them gently from her, and fixing her eyes upon Constantine.
O, Paleologus! hast thou for me
In fancy shaped a world and an existence
Where thou art not?
[Running to him and falling on his neck.
Here is my world, my life, my land of refuge,
And to no other will I ever flee.
Here still is light and hope; turning from this,
All else is round me as a yawning tomb.

Con.
My dearest love! my gen'rous honour'd love!
My sweet Valeria! thou distractest me;
But have thy way, for I can urge no more.
Let dark fate come: I will abide its worst.

Val.
Nay, say not dark; there is a hope within me;
'Tis sure, 'tis strong, it cannot be deceitful.
[A signal heard from without.
Hark! Hark! a signal!
(Voices are heard calling without.)
Ships are in sight! supplies and warlike aid!
Heaven sends us aid!

Val.
(holding up her hands).
O blessed sound! there is salvation in it.
Heaven sends us aid!
[Voices again call out as before, and the signal is repeated.
Again the blessed sound!
And here Rodrigo comes, wearing a face
Of welcome tidings. Enter Rodrigo.

Succours, brave Rodrigo?

Rod.
Yes, ships from Genoa are now in sight,
Bearing, no doubt, brave aid, if to the port
They can make good their entrance.
(All, except Constantine.)
Good heaven be bless'd.

Con.
And says Rodrigo “if?”

[Shaking his head.
Val.
Nay, fear not, they will enter; with them comes
Another brave Rodrigo; through barr'd adamant,
Did it oppose them, they will force their way.

Rod.
If they have but one jot of manhood in them,
They'll do all possible things.

Val.
Ay, and all things are possible!

Con.
In truth, thou talkst with such exulting confidence,
Thou almost temptest me to grasp at hope.

[Voices call out as before, and a signal from the towers.
Val.
The animating sound! Come, come! O, come!
And o'er the blue waves hail the blessed sight!

[Runs out exultingly, every one following her with animated alacrity.