University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

THE SENATE HOUSE.
The Temple of Jupiter Stator. The Senate at night; a Consul in the Chair; Cicero on the Floor, concluding his Speech.
CICERO.
Our long debate must close. Take one proof more
Of this rebellion.—Lucius Catiline
Has been commanded to attend the Senate.
He dares not come. I now demand your votes;—
Is he condemn'd to exile?
[Catiline comes in hastily, and flings himself on the Bench; all the Senators go over to the other Side.
turns to CATILINE.
Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men,
Of treasons manifold;—that, but this day,
He has received despatches from the rebels—
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul
To seize the province; nay, has levied troops,
And raised the rebel standard;—that, but now
A meeting of conspirators was held
Under his roof, with mystic rites, and oaths,
Pledged round the body of a murder'd slave.
To those he has no answer.

CATILINE
(rising calmly).
Conscript Fathers!
I do not rise to waste the night in words:
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade;
But here I stand for right. Let him show proofs,—
For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there,
Cling to your master; judges, Romans,—slaves!
His charge is false;—I dare him to his proofs,
You have my answer now! I must be gone.

CICERO.
Bring back the helmet of this Gaulish king!
[The Lictors return with the helmet and axe.
These, as I told you, were this evening seized
Within his house. You know them, Catiline?

CATILINE.
The axe and helmet of the Allobroges! (aside.)

Know them; What crimination's there? What tongue
Lives in that helm to charge me? Cicero—
Go search my house, you may find twenty such;
All fairly struck from brows of barbarous kings,
When you and yours were plotting here in Rome.
I say, go search my house. And is this all?
I scorn to tell you by what chance they came.
Where have I levied troops—tamper'd with slaves—
Bribed fool or villain, to embark his neck
In this rebellion? Let my actions speak.

CICERO
(interrupting him).
Deeds shall convince you! Has the traitor done?

CATILINE.
But this I will avow, that I have scorn'd,
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong.
Not he who brands my forehead, breaks my sword,
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back,
Can wrong me half so much as he who shuts
The gates of honour on me,—turning out
The Roman from his birthright; and for what?—
[Looking round him.
To fling your offices to every slave;—
Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb;
And having wound their loathsome track to the top
Of this huge mouldering monument of Rome,
Hang hissing at the nobler man below.

CICERO.

[The Lictors return with Cethegus, and others.
CATILINE
(startled).
Cethegus! (aside.)


CICERO.
Fathers! those stains to their high name and blood,
Came to my house to murder me; and came
Suborn'd by him.

CATILINE
(scornfully).
Cethegus!
Did you say this?

CETHEGUS.
Not I.—I went to kill
A prating, proud plebeian, whom those fools
Palm'd on the Consulship.

CICERO.
And sent by whom?

CETHEGUS.
By none.—By nothing, but my zeal to purge
The senate of yourself, most learned Cicero!

[A cry is heard without: “More Prisoners! The Allobroges!” An Officer enters, with Letters for Cicero; who, after glancing at them, sends them round the Senate. Catiline is strongly perturbed. The Allobroges come in, chained.
CICERO.
Fathers of Rome! If man can be convinced
By proof, as clear as day-light, there it stands!
[Pointing to the prisoners.
Those men have been arrested at the gates,
Bearing despatches to raise war in Gaul.
Look on these letters! Here's a deep laid plot
To wreck the provinces: a solemn league,
Made with all form and circumstance. The time
Is desperate,—all the slaves are up;—Rome shakes!—
The Heavens alone can tell how near our graves
We stand ev'n here!—The name of Catiline
Is foremost in the league. He was their king.
Tried and convicted traitor, go from Rome!

CATILINE
(haughtily, rising).
Come, consecrated lictors! from your thrones;
[To the Senate.
Fling down your sceptres:—take the rod and axe,
And make the murder as you make the law.

CICERO
(interrupting him).
Give up the record of his banishment.

[To an Officer.
[The Officer gives it to the Consul, in the chair.
CATILINE
(indignantly).
Banish'd from Rome! What's banish'd, but set free
From daily contact of the things I loathe?
‘Tried and convicted traitor!’ Who says this?
[With growing violence.
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?
Banish'd?—I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour—
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords;
I scorn to count what feelings, wither'd hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities.
But here I stand and scoff you:—here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.
Your Consul's merciful.—For this all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.

(The Consul reads)
“Lucius Sergius Catiline; by

the decree of the Senate, you are declared an

enemy and an alien to the state, and banished

from the territory of the commonwealth.”

THE CONSUL.
Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple!

CATILINE
(furious).
‘Traitor!’ I go—but I return. This—trial!
Here I devote your Senate! I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,
Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel.
This day's the birth of sorrows!—This hour's work
Will breed Proscriptions.—Look to your hearths, my lords!
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus!—all shames and crimes;—
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning the brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!

THE SENATORS
rise in tumult, and cry out,
Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome!

CATILINE
(indignantly).
It shall be so!— (Going. He suddenly returns.)
—When Catiline comes again,
Your grandeur shall be base, and clowns shall sit
In scorn upon those chairs;—your palaces
Shall see the soldier's revels, and your wealth
Shall go to deck his harlot and his horse.
Then Cicero, and his tools, shall pay me blood—
Vengeance for every drop of my boy's veins;—
And such of you, as cannot find the grace
To die with swords in your right hands, shall feel
The life, life worse than death, of trampled slaves!

THE SENATORS
cry out,
Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome!

CICERO.
Expel him, lictors! Clear the senate-house!

[They surround him.
CATILINE
(struggling through them).
I go,—but not to leap the gulf alone:
I go;—but when I come—'t will be the burst
Of ocean in the earthquake—rolling back
In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well!—
You build my funeral pile, but your best blood
Shall quench its flame. Back, slaves! (to the Lictors)
—I will return!

[He rushes through the portal; the Scene closes.