 | Brutus Ultor |  |
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ACT IV.
Scene I.
—Rome. Court of Brutus' house.Enter Publia, Titus, and Tiberius.
Tiberius.
Republic! May it perish!
Titus.
Heigh-ho! Pleasure
Is killed, no dances, feasts, and laughing pomp.
Publia.
And so you hang about my huswifery,
Till I am spoiled for duty with my girls;
The slaves are listless with perpetual calls
From harassed toil, the very dogs enraged
With teazing by the fountain, where you lie
And borrow its lament.
Titus.
Our friends are gone;
Gay banquets are no more.
Tiberius.
I'd rather drowse
In stalest privacy than mix my rank
With farmers and mechanics.
Titus.
Perish birth,
High place, and honour, so that revelry
Once more would tune her instruments, and lift
Her leisure-killing cups.
Publia.
Hush!
[Enter Brutus.]
Brutus.
None at work,
No, nor at play. Go forth to bath or games,
But hang not round this idle fount.
Tiberius.
'Tis hot.
Brutus.
To fainting girls.
Publia.
The sun is high.
Brutus.
Nay, nay.
No weak excuse. Titus, your sprawling limbs
Shame Roman discipline. Put by my scrolls.
[Exeunt Titus and Tiberius.
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Wife, I am dazed.
Publia.
You sought the public voice,
None made you foe of kings, and orator.
You were a man so private.
Brutus.
Now my thoughts
Are coins in every hand, and reticence
Is plundered. The republic!—in our home,
Sweet wife, we must retain our royalties,
Or piety will wane. Is Titus well?
I miss his laugh. Good wife, be less aghast,—
I may misread in the strange mood that flows
From alteration—there's a sullen frown
I've noted in Tiberius. Is that
The fancy of my strangeness?
Publia.
Oh, you dream.
Yet is he dull and wearied, for he kept
Much company with the old, royal house,
And finds the times are changed, as you confess.
[Enter Vindex.]
Vindex.
Master, they call you to the senate. The old
king sends for his goods that lie in the city. They debate
whether the chattels and raiment shall be yielded to
the messengers.
Brutus.
Tell them I come.
And fetch my sons.
Exit Vindex.
Publia.
They are good children.
Brutus.
Wife,
You need not hold my arm.
Publia.
Youth's golden hours
Are Phœbus' wilful horses, and they keep
The paces of his pleasure. Be not stern
With Titus; he is young.
Brutus.
Think, Publia;
Is it not piteous to see our youth
Like waxen figures melting in the sun?
And for the royal house—dear wife, the blood
Rome boasts pours through the fiery veins of Mars
That consanguinity is proved in arms.
Princes may languish, but our citizens
Inherit duties.
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Gently deal rebuke.
[Exit.
Brutus.
A magistrate, chief governor!—and all
My nature fashioned votive to express
The perilous ambitions and desires
Of the dull, weary, struggling multitude.
I would have been a sacred messenger,
Chosen from its very ranks. I feel its wrongs,
Its wantonness, its imbecility,
The deep fidelity of its despair,
Even to my inmost blood-drop. And my place
Is with authority; the lictors stand
About me. I must deal with punishment,
Repression, and the lips I thought were loosed
For freedom's service, now must only move
To the slow terms of law. The senators
Confirm me in my powers, and sever me
From the common people. Yet the time will come
They shall have heralds of their own. Meanwhile
I am made absolute o'er life and death;
I legislate, command. Ye holy gods,
Arraign me if I rule in insolence,
With arbitrary choice. Come hither, sons!
[Re-enter Titus and Tiberius.]
Your mother tells me that your days are changed;
You miss your wonted company,—the hours
Misspent with haughty princes, and the youth
Who scorn the laws that, in the ilex-grove,
The Muse, religious-voiced, to Numa taught,
The later mandates Servius decreed,
And that great natural awe that guards the heart
From brutish degradation.
Tiberius.
Needless fear!
I miss them not the least.
Titus.
Oh, but I do!
And father, who can chat with empty air,
Or with the fountain keep good fellowship?
For one complains, the other answers not.
Brutus.
Better discourse with the god-haunted airs,
Or the cool genius stirring in the well,
Than deal with godless tyrants. Give your minds
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That you with Vindex must be closeted;
No thoughts to ripen into enterprise;
No hallowed sighs that need interpreting
From youth's own augurs? Youth with youth is quick
At divination of the holy things
That make mysterious passage through its sky.
Take counsel with your fellows; they I trust,
Are honourable youths?
Tiberius.
Sir, we attend
Your admonition.
Titus.
Gods, we must be grave!
Brutus.
Nay, Titus, nay. You have your mother's brows,
Candid and blithe: do not suppress yourself.
Now tyranny is dead, there is no need
Of any slavish habit, and to feign
Is not a Roman art. Farewell, and guard
Your breasts from discontent.
[Exit.
Tiberius.
I'll never learn
That lesson under consuls.
Titus.
Sport is killed.
Here comes our moody uncle.
[Enter an Aquilius.]
Aquilius.
Listen, boys,
I may not use my voice except to breathe
A whisper of deliverance. The king
Hath sent to claim his goods; the deputies,
Our kinsmen, lodge with us, and share our board,
Filling our ears with hope. A band of friends
To monarchy will meet this very hour,
In a dim chamber of our palace. There
I'll take you, for you love the courtly days
And pleasures that are banished.
Tiberius.
Titus, come.
We shall be princes, if we bring the crown
Back to our monarch's brow.
Titus.
Throw wide the gates,
And feasts, pomp, gaieties, and majesty
Will enter like the golden age. We come.
[Exeunt.
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Scene II.
—Outside the Senate.Enter Publius and Vindex.
Vindex.
Thus it befell. My mistress sent me to her
brother's house to look for the young masters. I'm
familiar there, and I ran from chamber to chamber.
Winded and shaking, I stopped—I'm old now, and my
breath goes. It was all empty in the great hall; but
just in the recess, where the parchments lie by, there
were feet, and whispering. I listened; it's a habit I've
got, when folk drop their voices, to make up to them. I'd
not been behind the black chest for a moment, before I
heard such words! I peeped out; there were only seven
men, but—oh!—close to me, so that his robe brushed my
face, was Titus, and he laughed. It went through me—
and a cup passing round; he would not drink, I noted
that, though he jested; Tiberius took it.—It was slave's
blood, but the vileness was in their hearts. I just hid
myself in the dark, and trembled. There was an oath,
and the scratch of writing. When I looked out again,
they were gone.
Publius.
Titus, Tiberius—his very sons!
Vindex.
I lay dazed and groaning. Then a hurry fell
on me. I sprang to my feet. The master, so noble, so
betrayed, the city, the happy folk! I thought of the
comely boys, and was torn like a lion's prey. I knew not
what to do; I wept and fled. In the street the people
were singing, and I reached your door.
Publius.
No time to lose!
Vindex.
But the master!—what will he do? I'm a
wine-pourer;—but I cannot pour out the blood of their
young lives. It's no business of mine. Oh, it's murderous!
See, he comes . . . and he's smiling.
[Senators pass.
[Enter Brutus, attended by Lictors.]
Brutus.
[To Senator.]
Greatly I rejoice
That in this matter justice hath been done,
And the king's wealth restored.
Senator.
You won the grace.
[They part.
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He darkens as he sees us. Vindex, speak!
Vindex.
My tongue's cut to the roots—I've told you all—I can't remember.
Publius.
Slave, no skulking back.
[Holds Vindex.
Brutus.
What ails you? Danger to the state, a foe?
Publius.
Both.
Brutus.
From what quarter?
Publius.
Yours.
Brutus.
I dwell against
The northern wall. Etruscans?
Publius.
In your home
The danger hides.
Brutus.
Vindex, be brief, my man.
What does he mean?
Vindex.
Master, forgive me, master!
Brutus.
Not my old slave a traitor! 'Tis not so.
Vindex.
I am a traitor, not to you, my dearest lord;
not to the city; but, forgive me, forgive me, I'm betraying
the young masters.
Brutus.
Titus, Tiberius? 'Tis womanish
So long to speak of nothing. I demand
What brings you here.
Publius.
They plot against the State.
Brutus.
Who?—'Tis impossible.
Publius.
Your sons.
Brutus.
Come forth,
Lictors!—This month I'm consul.—Go, arrest
At their own home—you said?—the two young men,
My sons, and bear to prison.
Publius.
Not alone
They have offended. The Aquilian house
Hath urged them to rebellion.
Brutus.
Seize the band,
And save the city. Publius, go forth.
[Exeunt Publius and Lictors.
Vindex.
Look not like that, master. They'll escape,
because of their age and foolishness. Yet I saw them
sign the papers. Slay me!
Brutus.
Vindex, run home,—their mother. . . . Vindex, run!
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Vindex.
Where are you going, master? What shall you do?
Brutus.
Stand, stand!
Vindex.
I think he's witless, but I must be gone.
There's no compression about his lips, that makes him
look so strange. Oh, that I might die this moment!
[Looking after him.]
May the gods aid him!
Exit.
Brutus.
The last lictors sway
Round the street corner—they are out of sight,
And . . . this is terror. I've not known before
What makes the coward fly. I'll walk alone,
Down by the Tiber; yon's a quiet path.
[Walks by the river.
What counsel one can take in solitude,
What resolution! I must suffer all
Before I see her; it must all be past.
Here, by the river-side, I will estrange
My heart from Publia, and subdue my wrath
Against the traitors;—'tis their mother's looks
I fear. Thou cradle of young Romulus,
How often I have brought my lads to learn,
Here, by the yellow mud, our hero's birth.
Tiber, I will not now pollute thy stream
Even with their ashes. I would hurl them down
The Capitol, to rot
With other refuse, but the law forbids.
For them, the fasces and the axe; for me,
The infamy of fatherhood. The curse
That rises in me will obliterate
All memory, design, intelligence:
Lave me, O Tiber, lave me from my blood!
Genii
of the River.
Waves ever streaming,
Stream never gone,
Tranquilly gleaming,
Tiber rolls on.—
Storm and distraction
Dye deep its tides,
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Of root-guarded sides;
Terror and anguish
Swell high its crests,
Crops rot and languish,
Vines are depressed.
Wait:—all its raving
Stoops to our will;
Old channels laving,
Tiber is still.
Brutus.
There's order, iteration, in these tides,
Storm, and tranquillity. . . . Were it enough
To banish them, efface them from the realm,
And afterward have hope, in mine old age,
Their country would recall them for fair deeds
Of distant honour? Is it possible
They yet might rank as honourable men?
I thought not so when yesterday I doomed
A stripling, though his father, weak and old,
Shook with entreating sobs. My sons, my own,
Ye have no father left to plead for you;
I'm consul for this month—and, see, the rods
Flash blindingly betwixt us! I may weep.
Genii
of the Trees.
With gently-heavèd branches green,
With rustling airs, and doves remote,
That sigh and chaunt,
The woods lie peaceful; none may note,
In their still haunt,
Sign of the stress and whirlwind that have been.—
Yet winter bows them down,
Blasting them with his frown,
And breaking with his lash;
And storm and thunder crash
Through alleys, wild with sound,
Trampling the leafy ground.
Pause:—and with foliage re-dressed,
And honour by the milder winds allowed,
The trees rejoice;
Again the sunbeams through the shadows crowd;
With soothèd voice,
Again the boughs harmoniously rest.
Brutus.
What means this secret comfort and control,
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'Tis Earth's. She gave to me the rule of Rome;
I kissed her fragrant sod. She kisses me
Now with her deep, cool breath, and would confide
To me another trust—to rule myself.
'Tis like my mother's eyes that day I knew
How in her heart she felt I should not fail
In doing some boy's duty that I shunned,
Yet never told me, and I did it straight.
Genii
of the Air.
Sunset shines across the air,
Clouds are furled;
Breezes hardly touch the fair,
Outstretched world.—
Yet oft through vales
Of night, dark-faced,
It rains and hails;
From arm unbraced,
The anger of the wrathful god is hurled.
Stay:—the heaven is clear,
White, serene;
Tempests disappear,
Calm is seen.
Brutus.
[Looking up.]
O stream, O earth, O air, there is a song
Born in my heart that answers ye, a strain
From high Olympus: 'tis the peace of law
Fulfilled, the blessedness of destiny
Embraced, the apprehension of that joy
That plants the gods above vicissitude.
'Tis from the deep, clear ether. I am calm.
[Re-enter Publius. Brutus rises to meet him.]
You bring me further tidings, Publius,
Of this conspiracy.
Publius.
The parchment signed
With all the traitors' names. The truth is here.
O Brutus, look and weep!
Brutus.
No, you mistake.
Anger, not tears; deep, operative wrath!
I'll read the scroll.
[Exit.
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—How changed! A dreadful face,
Like the wax-moulded features of our sires
We carry at a funeral. Alas,
He surely cannot dream . . . . Nay, I'm a fool.
[Exit.
Scene III.
—The house of Brutus.Enter Publia and Titus.
Publia.
My Titus, you are restless. What is ill?
Why do you glance so often up the street?
Titus.
Tiberius is yonder.
Publia.
[Aside.]
Only see
How, in the sun, the down gleams on his lip!
He's growing such a man, and, by my faith,
His little mother scarce can reach his face.
[Aloud.]
Ah, Titus, you are still my boy despite
The toga on your shoulder, and your mouth
As childish as when first I held you up
To show your father it was made like mine.
I think he smiled, and kissed it for my sake.
You ever were a pet.
Titus.
Unwillingly.
I used to fight your kisses.
Publia.
Yes, with smiles.
My proud Tiberius would frown and mope,
If I were over-loving.
Titus.
Is not that
A crowd, at yon street-corner?
Publia.
What! you tremble.
[Enter Tiberius.]
Titus.
They are our father's lictors.
Tiberius.
At their head
He does not walk . . . Titus!
Titus.
Not so . . .
Publia.
My boys,
You're white as ghosts.
Tiberius.
I'm curious, because
The lictors pause.
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They come. O mother, mother!
[Enter Lictors.]
Lictor.
Upon a charge of treason you're condemned
To prison. We arrest you.
Publia.
Give the lie!
Oh, tell them it is false.
Titus.
Plead, plead for us.
Our father is so cruel.
Tiberius.
Titus, come.
We stood up for our King.
Publia.
[To Lictors.]
Let go your hold;
Leave them alone, you have no right with them,
They are the consul's sons.
Lictor.
Against his life
They have conspired.
Publia.
He never will believe it. Children, speak!
They falter.
Titus.
Kiss me.
Tiberius.
We are bound. Farewell.
[Exeunt with Lictors.
Publia.
They looked on me, a lingering, strange look,—
Distant, and tremulous. With misery
My pulses throb, for Brutus will return,
With that set mouth that speaks not punishment,
But means the very deed. I run away
When he is chiding them; and they have never
Offended in so deep a way as now.
He will not soon forgive them. I must bear
So many wretched days, their harsh disgrace
Afflicting every moment; not a word
To pass, or harder still, a smile; apart,
Yet near to them; and they so cowed and pale,
I cannot sleep till I have stolen away,
And reached their beds, and heard their tired complaining,
And promised to entreat for speedy pardon.
[Enter Vindex.]
O Brutus . . . Nay!
Slave, you are panting, and you look alarmed,
Your eyes are wet. New misery? O speak!
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I met them, and they looked so lonely, unowned
in a way. And there's no knowing what master
may do. He told me to say to you he is consul this
month.
Publia.
What can he mean? Vindex, what could he do?
Vindex.
Why, there's exile, and they seemed as if they
were banished, had nothing more to do with the street and
people. It was dreadful. Yes, there's exile . . .
Publia.
To lose my children from my side, to think
They're growing older in another land,
And no one cares to see it:—there's no pang
More bitter. O my sons! It cannot be.
[Weeps.
Vindex.
And then there's . . .
Publia.
What?
Vindex.
O lady, they do not often banish traitors.
'Tis worse what they do. But the young masters are safe.
Their father is their judge, and your brothers are fellow-prisoners.
They banished the old king, and they'll overlook
this business after a few years away from the city.
They'd never kill . . .
Publia.
Vindex! Oh! Kill!
[Faints.
Vindex.
Water! That will bring her back. Why,
she's sprinkled her own cheeks. Poor little mistress! and
I have done all this, and split their hearts. For the
master looks like a tree that's well-nigh sawn from its
roots. Knave that I was!
Publia.
Their blood! you were a knave to speak like that,
When they've a father powerful in the state.
I shudder. Help me up. Their blood, their blood!
You are a wicked, savage brute. Go hence!
Vindex.
—You speak truly. I hear him coming, and I
cannot bear the sight. I'll creep to the corner where the
dust is thrown. I am a skulking wretch.
Publia.
Vindex, are those the only penalties—
Death, banishment? [Seeing that Vindex is gone.]
Why should I need to learn?
My hapless children I will save from both;
A mother's knees can ask what he will grant
Who gave her home and offspring. He is here.
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My husband, Brutus!
Brutus.
Ah, my Publia,
I scarce can speak thy pure, unspotted name,
And call thy children traitors. What, you kneel?
Publia.
For them, and for my brothers. [Aside.]
Oh, his lips!
Brutus.
Rise, wife, this is unworthy. Would you bribe
My justice with my love? Stand up by me,
Let us be wedded with a stronger bond
Than child or home, the link of duty done
Though every joy should fail.
Publia.
I'll bear all grief,
Though it should turn my hair to withered grey,
If you will save my children.
Brutus.
Sit you down,
And let me take your hand. Think of Lucrece,
Married and happy, younger by some years
Than you, a bride of some few, fleeting months,
Who, forced to sin, was mighty for the good,
And dared to judge herself, condemn her life
To bleed for law transgressed. Oh, think of it!
She judged her own life, all that beat in it,
The honoured years of motherhood, the sweet
Cares of the loving future. O my wife,
She was the judge, and that deep agony
Was given to no other. You are called
Simply to acquiesce.
Publia.
You make me mad.
Loose me! I know not anything but this:—
I am their mother, and I will not go,
Till you have promised that the lives are safe
You kindled in my womb. Vow!
Brutus.
Wife, be still.
Publia.
You'll banish them?
Brutus.
Yes.
Publia.
And not kill?
Brutus.
Send them away, away . . .
Publia.
For many years?
Brutus.
I know not, but I hope
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Publia.
Oh, promise fast,
What you have said, that you will banish them.
Brutus.
No binding words. Love, fortify yourself,
Be humble in your misery.
Publia.
I fear.
O Brutus, be not false. I am your wife,
Who truly bore them, who has ever been
Faithful to you. If they should come to harm,
You would have seemed to give them me to take
Your gift away, to have feigned the father's part,
Begetting to destroy, and mocked my breast
With planting to uproot; your spousal words
Would be a liar's, and your acted love
Deep-laid hypocrisy and long deceit.
Brutus.
Say nothing more. I'll wander out of doors,
With the black night and stars. Go you to rest,
And think of me more truly.
Publia.
But the boys!
Twice have my pale, rejoicing hands raised up
The new-born child to fill your eyes. O Brutus,
Then you were ever tender. Why, the nurse,
The crabbed-speaking midwife, used to say
You were a very woman in the room.
Brutus.
Then is no more. Go in! Lift not your hands!
Publia.
I will not leave you. Brutus, once you knelt,
I gave you all, a virgin of sixteen;
And you with fifty years to make you kind,
Turn from my knees.
Brutus.
Love, I have said. The past
Hath lost its truth. Shall I arraign that too?
What! judge, condemn, our early, wedded years,
Their childhood, our first hopes! Let such retreat
Beyond the borders of our memory,
Where there is no recall.
Publia.
O cruel man,
I'll go and sob against your pillow, Brutus,
That you may think of nights, long years ago,
When you have loved me.
Brutus.
Not as now I love,
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In this great hour of peril. O my wife,
Draw to me, be my help-mate!
Publia.
Save my sons!
Brutus.
Is that the end? Have you learnt nothing else?
Publia, a moment: think of the great bond
That knit our lives; henceforth our married state
Is disannulled, and in my wandering thoughts
I shall walk lonely; yet I cannot weep.
My heart's a damp, cold cavern—tears and rock;
But the firm stone hath swallowed up the drops
That waste its substance: there is no remorse.
[Exit. Publia sinks on the ground by the hearth.
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