University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Part of the Roman forum, with an imperial throne on one side. View of Rome illuminated by night: triumphal arches, and other preparations for the celebration of the decennial feasts, and in honour of the return of Ætius from his victory over Attila.
Valentinian, Maximus, Varus, Prætors and people.
Max.
No, sacred sir, the offspring of Quirinus
Did never celebrate with greater pomp
The last great day of our decennial rites.
The blaze of torches and the people's shouts
Disturb the shade and silence of the night,
And Rome no longer envies former times
Augustus' happy reign.

Val.
Well pleas'd I hear
My faithful people's vows ascend the sky:
I see the pomp and wait the victor's presence;
All, all is cause of joy—but chief the thought,
That with this profferr'd hand I can bestow
A gift more worthy of thy daughter's love,
A throne enrich'd with laurels.

Max.
From her father
Fulvia has learn'd, with true humility,
Not to desire, nor to despise dominion:
Let Cæsar bid, my daughter shall obey.

Val.
In Fulvia more the lover would I find,
And less the subject.

Max.
Cæsar ne'er can fear
She will not love those virtues which in him
The world admire—But thirst of vengeance only
Inspires the restless soul of Maximus.

[aside.
Varus.
Ætius approaches—I behold already
His foremost ensigns.

Val.
Let us hear the victor,
And, Maximus, be thou partaker still
In every good that Fortune heaps upon me.

[he ascends the throne: Varus takes his place next him.
Max.
[aside.]
Think not for this my injuries are forgot.

SCENE II.

Enter Ætius in triumph, preceded by martial music; slaves and other ensigns of the vanquished, followed by soldiers and people.
Æt.
Sir, we have conquer'd—to the inclement realms
Of the bleak north, the terror of mankind
Returns a fugitive. Yes, Ætius, first
Of Roman chiefs, can boast that he has seen
Fear seize on Attila. The sun ne'er view'd
A more extensive slaughter; scarce the field
Suffic'd to bear the ghastly piles of slain:
The blood in torrents flow'd; confus'd were heard
Threats and laments, and midst the mingled tumults
Of rage and dread, were blended undistinguish'd,
The brave, the base, the victor and the vanquish'd.
Not long suspended was the victory:
Terror and desperation seiz'd the tyrant;
He fled, and left (that nothing might retard
His hasty flight) to us the full possession
Of all his ill-got spoils. If you demand
A proof of this, behold yon captive bands,
Behold those conquer'd arms and streaming ensigns.

Val.
Ætius, 'tis not o'er Attila alone
Thou now hast triumph'd; in subduing him,
Thou triumph'st o'er the hopes of Valentinian.
Thou fixest on his brows the doubtful wreath;
Thou, once again, to Tiber hast restor'd
His martial honours. To thy fortitude
And valiant arm all Italy must owe
Her liberty and peace.

Æt.
All Italy
Owes not her peace to me. There are who hold it
From their own worth alone. A race of heroes
Meet in the bosom of the Adriatic,
And change to seats of rest the unstable seas.
With many a bridge they join the scatter'd isles,
And with huge works repel the ocean's tide,
While from afar the wondering traveller
Sees mighty walls and marble domes arise,
Where vessels once have sail'd.

Val.
Who has not heard
Of fam'd Antenor's race? To us 'tis known,
That when the flames of war were kindled first
By Attila, they left their fields and towns,
And in the bosom of the seas maintain'd
Their threaten'd liberty: full well we know
What wide extent their rising city forms;
In future times what may we hope to view it,
Since thus its infant state?

Æt.
Cæsar, I trace
The seeds of mighty actions yet to come:
The subject seas shall fear this people's nod;
The rage of powerful kings they shall resist;
Shall bear to distant realms their spreading sails,
And Asia's purple tyrants strike with fear.

Val.
The happy omens Heaven succeed!—Meanwhile
[descends from his throne.
My guardian thou, my falling empire's safety,
Within these arms receive a pledge of love.
What gifts have I to recompense thy worth,
Since all I have thy virtue has bestow'd,
And still must guard them mine? But know, 'midst all
My power, thou, Ætius, art my noblest treasure.

[Exit with Varus and Prætors.

SCENE III.

Ætius, Maximus.
Max.
Ætius, enough is given to fame and duty,
Some moments give to friendship: let me press
That conquering hand in mine.

Æt.
Yes, friend, it joys me
To see thee once again. I prize thy love
Dear as this glorious pomp. But where is Fulvia?
What does she? Where is she conceal'd? While each
Hastes with impatience to behold my triumph,
Thy daughter comes not.

Max.
See my daughter here.

SCENE IV.

Enter Fulvia.
Æt.
My Fulvia, worthier of thyself, thy husband
Again returns, and to thy beauty owes
His greatest trophies. Midst alarms and death,
Glory and love alike inflam'd my ardour;
Nor would this hand have conquer'd for the pride
Of laurel wreaths alone to crown my toils—
But ha! what mean'st thou? At the tender names
Of lover and of husband, from thy cheek
The colour fades—and dost thou meet me thus
After our cruel parting? This my welcome!

Fulv.
O! torture to endure! [aside.]
—I come, my lord—

Æt.
Does Fulvia treat me then with cold respect?
Why am not I thy faithful husband still?
Alas! thou'rt her no more whom once I knew—

Fulv.
O Heaven! I'm still the same—but speak, my father.

Æt.
What means she, Maximus?

Max.
I have till now
Been silent, that our sorrows might not poison
The joy this day should bring thee—yes, my friend,
We live beneath a hard imperious yoke:
Our very thoughts must be enslav'd: thy conquest
Has freed us, Ætius, from a foreign foe,
But added strength to our domestic troubles.
Fear was a curb on Cæsar, that remov'd,
Now thou hast conquer'd, soon the groaning land
Shall find him haughtier still, and more the tyrant.

Æt.
I cannot think him thus—at least from me
His tyranny has ever been conceal'd:
What would he seek? What would he claim?

Max.
Thy wife.

Æt.
Ha! claim my wife! my Fulvia! Maximus?
And have you both consented to betray me?

Fulv.
Alas!

Max.
What subterfuge could I employ?
Or would'st thou have me, by refusing her
To share his throne, expose her to the will
Of an offended tyrant? Rather would'st thou
I should revive the tale of old Virginius,
And slay my daughter to preserve her chaste?
O no! 'tis thou alone canst break our chains,
And canst avenge thy wrongs. Thine are the people;
The army all is thine. Thou ow'st revenge
To Rome oppress'd, and to thy love betray'd.
Thou know'st no victim can be slain which Heaven
Accepts more gladly than an impious king.

Æt.
What hast thou said?—But passion blinds thy virtue,
And grief is ever found a partial judge.
Monarchs are delegates of Heaven on earth,
And Heaven must punish them—Be every means
Employ'd, but let us guard our faith untainted.

Max.
Exalted hero! equal to thy courage,
[embraces him.]
With wonder Maximus surveys thy truth,
That rises still superior to thy wrongs.—
—Yes we must change our speech, dissimulation
Assist me now.

[aside.
Fulv.
Can Ætius then so tamely
Resign his Fulvia to another's arms?

Æt.
Thou yet art free from every tye. To Cæsar
I'll plead my cause, and all shall yet be well.

Fulv.
O Heaven! and should'st thou speak, I tremble for thee!

Æt.
As yet the emperor knows not of my love.

Max.
From him, with caution, I conceal'd your passion.

Æt.
Hence springs the error. Cæsar's not to blame:
No, had he heard, his prudence had suppress'd
His growing love; he knows how much he owes me,
And knows it were not wisdom to provoke me.

Fulv.
Trust not too far—Ætius, a thousand fears
Distract my soul: Cæsar's too much a lover,
And thou art too unguarded in thy warmth.
O Heaven! reflect awhile—my heart forebodes
Some fatal mischief: I was born unhappy,
And must not hope my fate will ever change.

Æt.
With conquest I'm return'd; thou know'st that Ætius
Adores thee ever, yet my Fulvia weeps.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

Maximus, Fulvia.
Fulv.
'Tis time, my father, that respect at length
Should give me leave to speak. You promis'd first
My hand to Ætius' vows, then gave me charge
To hear and to encourage Cæsar's passion,
Assuring me I never should be his.
I your commands obey'd, believ'd your promise;
Yet, when I hope to take the hand of Ætius,
I hear you tell me that my hopes are vain.

Max.
I ne'er, my daughter, purpos'd to deceive thee.
Then mark me; 'tis not sure the worst of fortune
To share Augustus' bed.

Fulv.
And can you suffer,
That he, who dar'd insult your consort's virtue,
Should wed your daughter? Can you thus forget
The affront you once receiv'd? Is Maximus
So dazzled with the splendor of a throne?

Max.
Come to my breast, thy father's dearest part!
This just resentment merits I should tell thee
What else I would conceal. Know then, with art
I seem forgetful of my wounded honour.
Hatred too soon discover'd loses oft
The means of vengeance: now the time's at hand,
And we must seize it. Wedded to the tyrant,
Thou may'st with ease destroy him, or prepare
The way for me to pierce his impious breast.

Fulv.
What do I hear! And can I then, my father,
Present this hand to Cæsar to betray him?
O! in my looks he'd read my foul design:
Fear is companion still to crimes like these:
The soul, for ever brooding o'er her guilt,
Shrinks from herself: the criminal sometimes
Is fortunate, but never is secure:
The people will revenge their sovereign's death.

Max.
That fear is vain; since all alike detest him.

Fulv.
No, you're deceiv'd—the giddy crowd adore
The tyrant dead, whom living they abhorr'd.

Max.
You, Fulvia, first reviv'd my sleeping hatred,
Then shew that coldness you condemn'd in me.

Fulv.
Forgive me, sir, if I with freedom speak:
When I of late condemn'd your tardy vengeance,
I counsell'd not deceit.

Max.
I thought thee wiser,
And less subjected to the servile ties
Of virtue and of conscience; only useful
To abject souls, but by the noble scorn'd.

Fulv.
Are these the virtuous seeds which, till this hour,
You planted in me from my earliest age?
Either you then deceiv'd, or now deceive me.

Max.
Each different age requires its different maxims:
Those suit with childhood, these with riper years:
I then deceiv'd thee.

Fulv.
You deceive me now;
For with ourselves is born the hate of guilt,
And love of virtue: from its infant state
The soul an impulse feels of good and evil.
Oft have you told me this; I now confess it,
And all confirms it. You, even you, my father,
While thus you seek to steel my heart to treason,
Must own compunction. If you hold me dear,
Think of your glory; think that now you go—

Max.
No more, rash girl! I have endur'd enough.
Counsel not me, or if thou needs must counsel,
Go, counsel with thy equals; but remember
That I am still a parent, thou a child.

Fulv.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Maximus
alone.
How adverse is my fate! Though all the earth
Abounds with villainy, when Maximus
Would seek a villain, each assumes the hero,
And baffles his designs. Affronted love
Has prov'd too weak to fire the rage of Ætius:
My daughter disobeys me—be it so—
I must no longer dally with my purpose,
But hasten on the blow—too much already
Have I disclos'd, and ere the dawn appears
Cæsar shall die: Emilius for the deed
Will lend his faithful arm. What then may follow?
Or Valentinian falls, and crowns my vengeance;
Or, grant he should survive, 'tis mine to cast
The guilt on Ætius: 'tis an easy task:
Cæsar, the rival of his fame and love,
Without my arts will deem him criminal.
Or should aught else betide, I from th' event
Can form resolves anew: in greatest dangers
That wisdom oft is best which trusts to chance.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

A royal apartment with pictures.
Honoria, Varus.
Hon.
I ask thee of the victor not his conquests:
Of these I've heard enough—How does he bear
The crowd's applauses? Do his looks preserve
The sternness of the warrior? Has his triumph
Given him new pride, or soften'd him to gentleness?
This, Varus, tell me, not his deeds of arms.

Varus.
Honoria, pardon me, if I believ'd
That Cæsar's sister rather wish'd to hear
The deeds of Ætius, than to ask of aught
Pertaining to himself. These strict enquiries
Resemble more the lover than the sovereign.

Hon.
Hard is the slavery of our wretched sex!
Scarce can our lips but twice repeat a name,
And we are titled lovers. While so many
Dwell on his valour and exalt his praise;
While wondering throngs hail Ætius' glad return,
Honoria still alone remains behind;
Clos'd in these walls she seeks not to behold him
Yet this reserve escapes not censuring tongues.

Varus.
Too much reserve is oft a sign of love.

Hon.
Yes, Varus, to thy long-tried faith and service
Such freedom is indulg'd. But sure the distance
'Twixt Ætius and Honoria, from thy mind
Should banish such suspicion.

Varus.
All admire
The fortitude of Ætius: Rome adores him;
The universe is fill'd with his renown:
His foes with reverence name him: 'twere injustice
Here to refuse that love his worth demands.

Hon.
Since you appear so far the friend of Ætius,
You should not thus extol his rising power:
Augustus, in his nature, is too prone
To admit suspicion: while you to my brother
Exalt your friend, you serve his cause but ill.
The time may come—you understand me, Varus.

Varus.
I that am Ætius' friend, with greater caution
Will speak his praise: but, princess, if you love him
Be less ingenious to torment yourself.

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Honoria
alone.
Detested grandeur! tyrant of the mind!
Why wilt thou thus distract us? Why forbid
To indulge the freedom of unequal passion,
Yet prove too weak to guard our yielding heart?

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

Valentinian, Maximus.
Val.
Let Ætius know that I expect him here.
[to an attendant.
Yes, friend, his glory now begins to cast
A shade o'er Valentinian: every one
Dwells in my presence on th' exploits of Ætius:
Rome stiles him her deliverer: he himself
Knows his own power too well: I must, to ensure
His faith, exalt him to Honoria's bed;
So shall the marriage-bond be his reward,
And my security.

Max.
Indeed the people
Have idoliz'd him to excess: they seem
As if unmindful of their sovereign's name,
And may if he command—but I have done—
Ætius I think is true, and doubts are vain;
But were he not, methinks to exalt him thus
Would ill secure his faith.

Val.
A gift so mighty
Must quench ambition in the soul.

Max.
Will rather
Excite it: when the conflagration rises,
The stream but adds new fuel to the flame.

Val.
How shall I better hope to bind him to me?
Wouldst thou I should pursue a tyrant's steps,
And grow the mark of universal hatred?

Max.
The earliest art of reigning is to bear
The hatred of mankind: a monarch still
Must exercise dominion o'er offenders;
And hatred more secures the throne than love.

Val.
No, Maximus, the man who makes himself
Too much the object of another's fear,
Thence adds to his own terrors: all extremes
Together meet; and on some future day,
The headstrong vulgar, from excess of fear,
May gather boldness.

Max.
You, my lord, best know
The arts of reigning; monarchs have a light
Unknown to subjects: zeal for your repose
Urg'd me thus far. I meant but to remind you
That it becomes us with preventive care,
While danger threatens, to provide for safety.

[Exit.

SCENE X.

Valentinian
alone.
To those that distant view the throne, it seems
Heaven's choicest gift; to those who view it near,
It seems the worst.

SCENE XI.

Enter Ætius.
Æt.
I come to attend your will.

Val.
Ætius, I cannot bear, though for a moment,
To seem ungrateful to thee: Tiber sav'd
From foreign arms, my peace, my dignity,
All, all I've gain'd are but the happy fruits
Of Ætius' wisdom and his conquering sword.
Should Valentinian yield to thee his throne,
He gives not, but to thee restores thy own.
Thus, midst my wealth, when I would recompense
The virtues of a friend who conquers for me,
I find, in spite of empire, still I'm poor.

Æt.
When through the fight I toil'd for Rome and thee,
The deed itself became my great reward.
What would I more? Augustus' love will ever
Suffice for me.

Val.
But not for Valentinian.
The world shall learn that, while I vainly strove
To recompense thy worth, my gratitude
Left nought untried. Ætius, the blood of Cæsar
Shall be to thine united; ne'er on thee
Can I bestow a stronger pledge of love:
To-morrow's sun shall see thee wed Honoria.

Æt.
[aside.]
What do I hear!

Val.
Thou dost not answer—speak.

Æt.
So vast an honour doubtless must surprise me.
Honoria's rank demands a king and throne,
I have no crowns to boast, and Ætius, sir,
Is nothing but a subject.

Val.
Such a subject
As Ætius, far excels the proudest king.
If kingdoms are not thine, thy valorous arm
Can kingdoms give to others. To possess,
Is Fortune's gift alone; but to bestow them,
Is Virtue's task.

Æt.
Thy sister owes the world,
Great sir, a race of kings; to me united,
Will bring forth subjects only: well thou know'st
By these unequal nuptials that Honoria
To Ætius may descend, but Ætius never
Can rise to her.

Val.
My sister and the world
Sustain no loss by such a glorious union:
Or should they lose, yet, while I recompense
A hero's worth, my sister and the world
Can ne'er complain.

Æt.
I must not, sir, consent
That Cæsar, to be grateful thus to one,
Should prove unjust to many.

Val.
Let us speak
This once without concealment. Thy respect
Is but a veil to cover thy refusal.
What would'st thou more? Is then my gift so little?
Must Cæsar ever stand indebted to thee?
Remember, he who spurns at all reward
Is not less proud than he who asks too much.

Æt.
Well then, your frankness shall encourage mine:
What you have offerr'd, sir, for my reward
Would prove my punishment.

Val.
I did not think
Thy sovereign's sister, join'd to thee in marriage,
Would make thee wretched.

Æt.
Even this profferr'd gift
Is little to the man who loves another.

Val.
Where is the beauty who so far exceeds
Honoria's merits? Is she born my subject?
Are my dominions honour'd with her presence?
It shall be mine to knit these glorious ties:
Declare to me her name.

Æt.
Her name is Fulvia.

Val.
Fulvia?

Æt.
The same—He seems disturb'd.

[aside.
Val.
[aside.]
O Heaven!
And knows she of thy love?

Æt.
I think she does not:
[aside.]
Let me not raise his anger against her.

Val.
First gain the maid's consent—See if her choice
Opposes not thy suit.

Æt.
That care be mine:
Meantime thy sanction, Cæsar, shall suffice.

Val.
Some other lover may perchance have gain'd
On her affection.

Æt.
Never.—Where's the man
Whose rashness seeks to ravish such a prize
From him whose hand has sav'd imperial Rome?
I know him not.

Val.
But should there yet be one?

Æt.
He then should see that Ætius could no less
Assert his rights than guard his sovereign's empire:
Yes, he should find—

Val.
And what if I were he?

Æt.
That gift which costs a pang from Cæsar's heart
Would prove more glorious to me.

Val.
But a subject
Must not require, to recompense his service,
So vast a sacrifice from him who reigns.

Æt.
Cæsar is sovereign, Ætius asks from him
This sacrifice; Ætius, who, till this hour,
Has serv'd unrecompens'd: Cæsar, who knows
What gratitude exacts; who owes to me
His peace, his dignity; who has confess'd
That should he render up the throne to Ætius,
He gives not, but to him restores his own;
And that each moment but augments his fear
To seem ungrateful to him.

Val.
What presumption!
[aside.
I thought that when I call'd to mind thy merits,
And own'd each service, I in part repaid them.

Æt.
I call them to thy mind, when for reward—

Val.
No more—enough—I understand thee, Ætius.

[Exit.
Æt.
Now let us see if he'll oppose my love.

SCENE XII.

Enter Fulvia.
Fulv.
Ætius, I read thy anger in thy looks:
Hast thou to Cæsar then discours'd of me?

Æt.
I have; but kept from him thy love a secret:
Hence thou hast little cause to fear.

Fulv.
What said he
To thy request? What answer gave Augustus?

Æt.
He neither yielded nor oppos'd my suit;
By certain signs I found he grew disturb'd,
But yet he durst not give his anger vent.

Fulv.
You raise my apprehension. He who feels
Resentment, yet assumes an outward calm,
Must surely plan some cautious scheme of vengeance.

Æt.
You fear too soon.

SCENE XIII.

Enter Honoria.
Hon.
Ætius, I owe you more
Than words can pay: my brother would debase
Honoria's hand by joining it to yours;
But you, more just, have now convinc'd Augustus
That Ætius is unworthy such alliance.

Æt.
Honoria, no: 'tis not for this you owe
Your thanks to me; 'tis for a nobler service.
You know this arm, that guards Honoria's throne,
Gives her the power to treat me thus with scorn.

Hon.
Indeed I stand indebted much to Ætius,
And 'tis with pain I find the stars compel me,
Spite of myself, to be the messenger
Of fatal tidings to his hapless love.
[to Fulv.]
Fulvia, soon as the morning rises, Cæsar
Will take thee for his bride.

Fulv.
What says Honoria?

Æt.
What do I hear!

Hon.
He gave me now in charge
To speak his purpose. Ætius, yet have comfort,
And learn to exult that she, whom most you love,
Reigns o'er a subject world.

Æt.
This is too much—
Cæsar would tempt too far the faith of Ætius.
What right has he to rule o'er my affections?
To ravish Fulvia from me? To contemn me?
Perhaps he thinks I tamely will endure it;
Or does he wish that Rome, through him, should prove
A fatal scene of blood?

Hon.
Does Ætius threaten?
Is this his truth, his boasted loyalty?

Æt.

[Exit.

SCENE XIV.

Honoria, Fulvia.
Fulv.
Honoria, keep his transports hid from Cæsar:
Ætius is faithful still; he speaks but thus
Through disappointed love.

Hon.
Fulvia, methinks
Thou shew'st too much of fear and pity for him;
And does not pity sometimes spring from love?

Fulv.
Princess, you wrong me much, for well I know
To whom this bosom owes its first affections.

Hon.
Be not too warm—'twas but a slight suspicion.

Fulv.
If credit must be given to such suspicion,
Honoria too might furnish cause for doubt:
By thy resentment I perceive how well
Thou bear'st to be rejected. I should think
Thou wert a lover, yet I'll not believe it.

Hon.
And when thou dar'st insult me with suspicions
Injurious to my honour, I might well
Rebuke thy arrogance, yet I forbear.

[Exit.

SCENE XV.

Fulvia
alone.
Too cruel Fortune! persecute me still,
And raise new troubles to disturb my peace:
Incense Honoria, kindle jealousy
In Cæsar's breast, and render Ætius wretched;
Deprive me of a father's fostering care,
But never shalt thou rob me of my love:
For spite of thee, thy rigour shall exalt
The glorious triumph of my constant heart.

[Exit.