 | Nero |  |
3
ACT I
Scene.—The Scene is in the Great Hall in the Palace of the Caesars. At the back are steps leading to a platform with balustrade opening on the air, and beyond, a view of the city.[On the right of the stage is a cedarn couch on which Claudius is uneasily sleeping. On the right is a door communicating with the inner apartments. On the left a door communicating with the outer halls.
[Xenophon is standing by the couch of Claudius. Agrippina is sitting with face turned to an Astrologer, who stands at the top of the steps watching the stars.
[Locusta is crouching beside a pillar, right. A meteor strikes across the sky. The Astrologer, pointing upwards, comes down the steps slowly.
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These meteors flame the dazzling doom of kings.
[Agrippina rises apprehensively.
Xenophon.
Caesar is dead!
Agrippina.
The drug hath found his heart.
[To Locusta, who steals forward.
Locusta, take your price and steal away!
Sound on the trumpet. Go! your part is done.
[Exit Locusta.
[Trumpet is sounded.
That gives the sign to the Praetorians
Upon the instant of the Emperor's death.
[Answering trumpets are heard.
Hark! trumpets answering through all the city.
Xenophon, you and I are in this death
Eternally bound. This husband have I slain
To lift unto the windy chair of the world
Nero, my son. Your silence I will buy
With endless riches; but a hint divulged—
Xenophon.
O Agrippina, Empress, fear not me!
Agrippina.
Meantime his child, his heir, Britannicus,
Must not be seen lest he be clamoured for.
So till the sad Chaldean give the sign
Of that so yearned for, favourable hour,
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The sudden death of Claudius must be hid!
Then on the instant Nero be proclaimed
And Rome awake on an accomplished deed.
Xenophon.
Then summon Claudius' musicians in
To play unto the dead as though he breathed.
Agrippina.
Call them! A lulling music let them bring.
[Exit Xenophon.
[She turns to Astrologer.
O thou who readest all the scroll of the sky,
Stands it so sure Nero my son shall reign?
Astrologer.
Nero shall reign.
Agrippina.
What lurks behind these words?
There is a ‘but’ still hovering in the stars.
Astrologer.
Nero shall reign.
Agrippina.
The half! I'll know the rest.
Astrologer.
Peer not for peril!
Agrippina.
Peril! His or mine?
Astrologer.
Thine then.
Agrippina.
I will know all, however dark.
Finish what did so splendidly begin.
Astrologer.
Nero shall reign, but he shall kill his mother.
Agrippina.
Kill me, but reign!
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Seneca.
The trumpet summoned me,
And I am here.
Agrippina.
Seneca! Speak it low!
Caesar is dead! Nero shall climb the throne.
Seneca.
I will not ask the manner of his death.
In studious ease I have protested much
Against the violent taking of a life.
But lost in action I perceive at last
That they who stand so high can falter not,
But live beyond the reaches of our blame;
That public good excuses private guile.
Agrippina.
You, Xenophon and Burrus, stand with me.
Enter Burrus, right. He salutes the corse of Claudius
Burrus.
Obedient to the trumpet-call I come.
Agrippina.
Say, Burrus, quickly say, how stands our cause
With the Praetorians who unmake and make Emperors?
Burrus.
The Praetorians are staunch,
And they are marching now upon the Palace.
Agrippina.
Will they have Nero?
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Yes, and double pay.
There is a murmuring minority
Who toss about the name Britannicus.
These may be feared; let Nero scatter gold
There where dissension rises—it will cease.
Their signal when they shall surround the Palace,
The gleam of my unsheathèd sword to the dawn.
Agrippina.
Stand there until I have from him the sign,
Then let thy sword gleam upward to the dawn.
[Turning and pointing to body of Claudius.
That is my work! Also, I must betroth
Nero unto the young Octavia,
And with the dead man's daughter mate my son.
This marriage sets him firmer on the throne,
And foils the party of Britannicus.
[To Burrus.]
You for the army answerable stand.
[To Seneca.]
And, Seneca, I have entrusted Nero's mind
To you, to point an eaglet to the sun.
Nero? What does he?
Seneca.
Nero knows not yet
That Claudius is dead. Rome hath not slept,
But to the torch-lit circus all have run
To see him victor in a chariot race,
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By burning torches is his newest whim.
Agrippina.
A torch-lit race! And yet why not? My child
Should climb all virgin to the throne of the earth,
Not conscious of spilt blood: and I meantime
Will sway the deep heart of the mighty world.
The peril is Britannicus: for Nero,
Careless of empire, strings but verse to verse.
How shall this dove attain the eagle cry?
Seneca.
Be not so sure of Nero's harmlessness.
Agrippina.
What do you mean?
Seneca.
By me he has been taught,
And I have watched him. True, the harp, the song,
The theatre, delight this dreamer: true,
He lives but in imaginations: yet
Suppose this aesthete made omnipotent,
Feeling there is no bar he cannot break,
Knowing there is no bound he cannot pass;
Might he not then despise the written page,
A petty music, and a puny scene?
Conceive a spectacle not witnessed yet,
When he, an artist in omnipotence,
Uses for colour this red blood of ours,
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His orchestra our human agonies,
His rhythms lamentations of the ruined,
His poet's fire not circumscribed by words,
But now translated into burning cities,
His scenes the lives of men, their deaths a drama,
His dream the desolation of mankind,
And all this pulsing world his theatre.
[Steps heard without.
The dead man's children startled from their sleep!
Britannicus, Octavia, wondering.
Agrippina.
Till the auspicious hour he is not dead.
Octavia and Britannicus enter
Octavia.
We could not sleep: father is very sick.
We fancied every moment that he called us.
Britannicus.
And then these meteors full of coming woe—
Octavia.
So brilliant and so silent! O, I fear them.
Britannicus.
Is father yet awake? We want to ask him—
[They approach the couch. Agrippina interposes.
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Do not disturb your father for this night.
Octavia.
We will not speak, nor make the smallest sound
To wake him. We must kiss him ere we sleep.
Agrippina.
Children, he is in need of some long rest.
Go back to bed: your father sleepeth sound.
Britannicus.
I will go in to him, I will—and you
Are not our mother. By what privilege
Do you thus interpose yourself between
A father and his children?
Agrippina.
Would you then
Trouble him, when to sleep is all he asks?
Octavia.
Only a moment! But to see him!
Agrippina.
No!
Come softly back to bed! no—no—this way!
Britannicus, with the first peer of light
You shall behold your father; but not now.
So the physician, Xenophon, enjoined me.
Now take Octavia's hand—so, both of you.
[Octavia holds her face to be kissed.
To-night I think I will not kiss you, child.
Good-night, good-night.
[Exit Octavia and Britannicus.
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How often have I taught
And written, ‘Children shall not be beguiled
Even for good ends.’ And yet, the single lie
Must, for the general good, be spoken; yet—
[Musicians meanwhile have entered, and are playing dreamy music. Agrippina turns to Astrologer, holding out her arms.
Agrippina.
How long till Rome shall greet her Emperor?
Astrologer.
Behold the heavens! The moment!
[Exit Astrologer.
Agrippina.
Give the sign!
[Sounds of acclamation and cries of ‘Nero.’ Burrus draws his sword.
Burrus.
See the Praetorians!
Seneca.
Nero returns.
Enter a Herald gorgeously dressed, bearing a silver wreath
Messenger.
From Nero unto Agrippina greeting!
He comes a victor from the chariot race.
[Sounds of acclamation grow louder, the crowd of Nero's friends and satellites
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Agrippina.
[Touching Claudius' body.]
That music be a dirge: Caesar is dead.
[Nero pauses wondering.
Claudius is dead. Reign thou. Ave Caesar!
[Burrus leads Nero to back of platform, and addresses the soldiers at back.
Burrus.
Caesar is dead! Behold Caesar!
[A great shout of ‘Nero!’ ‘Caesar!’ Meanwhile Agrippina and Seneca are listening close together. Discordant cries are heard of ‘Britannicus!’ A slave or attendant on Nero scatters gold in the direction of these discordant cries, which gradually subside, and are lost in one long shout of ‘Nero, Imperator.’ Nero motions for silence.
Nero.
[Turning to Court.]
Behold this forest of uprisen spears,
Symbol of might! But I upon that might
Would not rely. You hail me Emperor—
Then hail me as an Emperor of peace.
First, I declare divinest clemency.
No deaths have I to avenge, no wrath to bribe,
No desperate followers clamouring for spoil;
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Next, I bestow full liberty of speech;
I will not sway a dumb indignant earth—
Emperor over the unuttered curse.
Were I myself the mark, I will not flinch.
Yet citizens, if freedom of the tongue
I grant, I'd wish less freedom of the feast.
Then all informers who lie life away
I'll heavily chastise; let no man think
With hinted scandal to employ mine ear.
Last, over all my earth be perfect trust,
That every tribe and people, dusk or pale,
Legions extreme and farthest provinces,
May know that this my hand which striketh down
The oppressor and the tyrant from his seat
Shall raise the afflicted and exalt the meek.
And if this burden grow too vast at times,
Then, mother, teach thy son to bear the load.
[Exit Court.
Agrippina.
[Rushing to embrace him. He is vested with the purple and laurel wreath. The body of Claudius is borne off. Exit Burrus. Nero comes down.]
Nero, thou art my son!
Nero.
To rule the world.
How heavy is the sceptre of the earth!
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[Coming down.]
Nero, upon this arm behold I clasp
This amulet. One dawn two murderers
Despatched to kill thee, stealing to thy bed
Were frightened by a snake which from beneath
Thy pillow glided. From that serpent's skin
I made this charm. Wear it, and thou shalt prosper;
But lose it, look thou for calamities.
Seneca.
[Prepares to go also.]
You will need sleep, sir, for to-morrow's task.
Nero.
[In terror.]
I am not pale? Not heavy-eyed?
Seneca.
No! No!
Nero.
An artist, whatsoever mood he rouse
In others, should himself be ever still.
Where is a mirror?
Seneca.
Sir, one graver word.
To-morrow when you first shall sit in judgment,
And set your name unto the scroll of death—
Nero.
[Gazing at himself in mirror.]
Ah! Must I sign death-warrants? Then I wish
This hand had never learned to write.
Seneca.
Dear pupil!
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Your pupil now the awful purple wears.
You tremble but to grasp the pen! But they
Who dyed it thus, feared not to grip the brand.
Nero.
[Again looking in mirror.]
It is an act to me unbeautiful.
To scatter joy, not sadness, was I born.
Agrippina.
It is an act to you most necessary,
If you would sit secure where I have set you.
Now the light things of boyhood, toys of youth,
Unworthy that stern seat, you must discard.
Acte, the playmate of those careless hours,
Henceforth must be forgotten: you shall wed
A royal consort—young Octavia,
The child of Claudius, of the imperial line.
Seneca.
My peaceful counsel you will not forget.
Nero.
[Turning to Seneca, affectionately.]
Old friend, I am not like to wade in blood,
Thee at my side! I think upon the dooms
Of Julius, Caius, and Tiberius,
All Emperors—all miserably slain.
Seneca.
This dawn art thou the master of the world;
Then tremble at the task to thee assigned.
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And on thy knees accept omnipotence.
Good-night, dear pupil! May my teaching lead
Thy solemn opportunity aright!
[Exit Seneca.
Nero.
You powers sustain me to endure this weight!
Mother, I shall go mad!
Agrippina.
Not while this hand
Is on thy brow, and this voice in thine ear.
Nero.
To rule the world!
Agrippina.
We two will rule the world.
Nero.
We two?
Agrippina.
When you have need of me, then call me.
Nero.
I ever shall. I need you at this moment
More even than when my toothless gums did fumble
About thy breast in darkness of the night.
Agrippina.
My dear, dear son! And Nero, well I know
That you could never hurt or injure me.
But you will not forget who set you here—
You will not, tell me?
Nero.
Never, mother, never!
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Mothers for children have dared much, and more
Have suffered; but what mother hath so scarred
Her soul for the dear fruit of her body as I?
Thy birth-pang was the least of all the throes
That I for thee have suffered—a brief pain,
A little, little pain we share with creatures;
But what was this to torments of the mind,
The dark, imperial meditations,
Musing with eyes half-closed in moonless night;
The crimes—yes, crimes, the blood that has been spilt—
Why, I have made a way for thee through ghosts.
Nero, you'll not forget?
Nero.
Ah! Never, never!
Agrippina.
My son, this very night it was foretold
‘Nero shall reign, but he shall kill his mother.’
Tell me the stars have lied.
Nero.
[Smiling.]
The stars have lied.
Enter Burrus
Burrus.
The pass-word, sir, to-night?
Nero.
The best of mothers.
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Kiss me; we both of us must sleep awhile.
[Exit Agrippina. Nero goes up, gazing out on the city as the dawn comes on greyly.
Nero.
O, all the earth to-night into these hands
Committed! I bow down beneath the load,
Empurpled in a lone omnipotence.
My softest whisper thunders in the sky,
And in my frown the temples sway and reel,
And the utmost isles are anguished. I but raise
An eyelid, and a continent shall cower;
My finger makes the city a solitude,
The murmuring metropolis a silence,
And kingdoms pine in my dispeopling nod.
I can dispearl the sea, a province wear
Upon my little finger; all the winds
Are busy blowing odours in mine eyes,
And I am wrapt in glory by the sun,
And I am lit by splendours of the moon,
And diadem'd by glittering midnight.
O wine of the world, the odour and gold of it!
There is no thirst which I may not assuage;
There is no hunger which I may not sate;
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[With a cry.]
I shall go mad! I shall go mad!
[Acte steals in noiselessly, and waits till he turns, then comes down to him.
My Acte!
Acte.
[Shrinking.]
O, I seem so far from you,
And so beneath you now; your care henceforth
The world and nothing less. Long have you been
Nero to me, but Caesar must be now
High throned, the nations crawling at your feet.
And yet be sure that if on some far day
The throne should pass from you; if you should stand
Lonely at last; your friends all fallen away
From you; the laurel upon other brows
Set; were you dyed in blood deep as the robe
That folds you; were you dead in rags reposing,
Yet would I find you, cover up your face,
Taking the last kiss from your lips, and I
Would gently bury you within the earth.
Nero.
Ah!
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And though none came nigh you, being dead,
Who were in life so thronged about and pressed,
One hand at least would duly pluck you flowers,
One hand at least would strew them on your grave.
Sleep now, and I will charm these eyes to close.
[She takes a harp, and as she plays Nero drops off to sleep. She, seeing him so, softly kisses him and noiselessly disappears. Meanwhile Nero turns uneasily in his sleep, and a procession of dead Emperors passes—Julius, covering his face, but withdrawing his cloak to gaze a while on Nero; Tiberius; Caius wounded; Claudius holding a cup. Nero rushes forward, uttering a cry. Acte again re-enters at the sound.
Nero, what ails you? Nero, how the drops
Stand on your brow!
Nero.
There, there, I seemed to see
As in procession the dead Emperors:
Julius, Tiberius, Caius, Claudius,
All bloody, and all pacing that same path.
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[Trying to lead him on the opposite way.]
There is another path, will you but take it.
[Nero is led by her a little way, then hesitates, still gazing after the procession of Emperors. Gradually he looses Acte's hand, and she leaves him, gazing.
| Nero | |