University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Jonathan, Michal.
Mi.
Jonathan, tell me; to my father's tent
May David now return?

Jon.
Ah no! with him
Saul is not reconciled, although he have
Regain'd his reason; but fell jealousy
Hath round his heart too intricately twined
Her blighting fibres; slow will be his cure.
Return to David thou, and leave him not.

Mi.
Alas! ... Who is more wretched than myself?
I have so well conceal'd him, that no man
Will ever find him: to this hiding-place
I now return to him.

Jon.
Oh heaven! behold
My poor distracted father once more comes:
He never finds a resting-place.

Mi.
Ah me ...
What shall I say to him? ... I will retire ...

SCENE THE SECOND.

Saul, Michal, Jonathan.
Sa.
Who flies at my approach? Thou, Michal, thou?

Mi.
My lord ...

Sa.
Where, where is David?

Mi.
... I know not ...

Jon.
Oh father! ...

Sa.
Seek him then;
Go, bring him hither quickly.

Mi.
I pursue him? ...
Whither ... ah ... whither?

Sa.
'Twas thy king that spake,
And hast thou not obey'd him?

SCENE THE THIRD.

Saul, Jonathan.
Sa.
Jonathan,
Lov'st thou thy father?

Jon.
Father, yes, I love thee:
But, loving thee, I also love thy glory:
Hence sometimes I oppose, far as a son
Ought to oppose them, thy unjust desires.

Sa.
Often thy father's arm dost thou restrain:
But thou dost turn against thyself that sword
Which thou avertest from another's breast.
Yes, yes, defend that David to the utmost;
Shortly will he ... Dost thou not hear a voice
That in thy heart cries, “David will be king!”
—David!—He shall be immolated first.

Jon.
And doth not God, with a more terrible voice,
Cry in thy heart, “David is my beloved!
“He is the chosen of the Lord of hosts?”
Doth not each act of his confirm this truth?
Was not the frantic and invidious rage
Of Abner silenced by his mere approach?
And thou, when thou re-enterest in thyself,
Dost thou not find that, only at his presence,
All thy suspicions vanish like a cloud
Before the sun? And dost thou fondly dream,
When the malignant spirit visits thee,
That I restrain thy arm? Thy God restrains it.
Scarcely wilt thou have levell'd at his breast
The misadventurous sword, when thou wilt be
Forced to withdraw it suddenly: in tears
Thou thyself prostrate at his feet wilt fall;
Yes, father, thou repentant: for thou art
Not impious ...

Sa.
But too, too true thy words.
A strange inexplicable mystery
This David is to me. No sooner I
In Elah had beheld him than he pleased
My eyes; but never, never won my heart.
When I might almost be disposed to love him,
A fierce repulsion shoots athwart my breast,
And weans me from him. Scarcely do I wish,
Scarcely resolve his death, than, if I see him,
Me he disarms, and with such wonder fills me,
That in his presence I become a nothing ...
Ah! this is surely, this the vengeance is
Of the inscrutable almighty hand!
Tremendous hand! I now begin to know thee ...
But what, why should I needlessly explain
Common events by superhuman causes?
God have I ne'er offended: this is then
The vengeance of the priests. Yes, David is
An instrument of sacerdotal malice.
Expiring Samuel he beheld in Rama:
The implacable old man to him address'd
His dying words. Who knows, who knows if he
Upon the head of this my enemy
Pour'd not the sacred oil with which before
My brows he had anointed? Perhaps thou knowest ...
Speak ... yes, thou knowest: ... I conjure thee, speak.

Jon.
Father, I know not: but if it were so,
Should not I, equally with thee, esteem
Myself in this offended? Am not I
Thy eldest son? Dost thou not mean this throne
For me, when thou art gathered to thy fathers?
If I then do not do it, who should dare
To make complaints at this? In fortitude
David surpasses me; in virtue, sense,
In every quality: and as the more
His worth surpasses mine, the more I love him.
Now, should that power that gives and takes away
Kingdoms at will, bestow this throne on David,
What more conciliatory evidence
Of heaven's interposition can I ask?
He is more worthy of that throne than I:
And God hath summon'd him to lofty deeds,
The shepherd of his people.—But meanwhile
I swear, that he has always been to thee
A faithful subject and a loyal son.
Now to that God to whom it doth belong,
The future yield: and against God, meanwhile,
Against the truth, ah, harden not thy heart.
If a divinity in Samuel spake not,
How could an undesigning, weak old man,
Half in the grave already, such effects
Produce by David's means? That mystery
Of love and hatred which thou feel'st for David;
That apprehension at a battle's name,
(A terror hitherto to thee unknown,)
Whence, Saul, can it proceed? Is there a power
On earth producing such effects as these? ...

Sa.
What language dost thou hold? A son of Saul
Art thou?—Feel'st thou no interest for the throne?—
Foresee'st thou not the cruel stratagems
By which the usurper will defend his claim?
My house will be abolish'd, from the roots
Torn up, by him who seizes on my sceptre.
Thy sons, thy brothers, and thyself destroy'd ...
Not one of Saul's descendants will remain ...
Oh guilty and insatiable thirst
Of power, what horrors can'st thou not produce?
To reign, the brother immolates the brother;
Mothers their children; wives their consorts slay;
The son his father ... Sacrilegious throne!
Thou art the seat of blood and cruelty!

Jon.
Has man a shield against the sword of heaven?
Not menaces or prayers can turn aside
The wrath of God omnipotent, who oft
The proud abases, and exalts the humble.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Saul, Jonathan, Abner, Ahimelech, Soldiers.
Ab.
King, if thy presence I behold once more,
Ere streams of hostile blood by my means flow,
To this by mighty reasons am I urged.
David, the champion, the invincible,
He who our victory or defeat decides,
David is fled, and none knows whither fled.
Scarce is an hour now wanting to the time
Appointed for attack: now, hear'st thou not
The warriors, chafing with impatient ardour,
Fill with loud cries the air; the earth resound,
Beaten with iron hoof of fiery steeds:
Howlings and neighings, and the blaze of helms,
And brandish'd swords, and fulminating shouts,
Enough to make the veriest coward valiant;
Yet who sees David? Who brings tidings of him?—
Behold, (the authentic succour of the Almighty!)
Behold, who in the camp stands in his place.
This man, in soft, white, sacerdotal stole
Enveloped, having gain'd the camp by stealth,
Tremblingly slunk beside the Benjamites,
Behold him; hear from him the lofty cause
Which to such peril guides him.

Ahi.
I will speak it,
If not forbidden by the king's displeasure.

Sa.
The king's displeasure! Thou dost then deserve it! ...
Traitor, and who art thou? ... It seems to me
That I should know thee well. Art thou not one
Of that fantastical and haughty flock
Of Rama's fanatics?

Ahi.
I wear the ephod:
I, of the Levites chief, to holy Aaron,
In that high ministry, to which the Lord
Elected him, after a long descent
Of other consecrated priests, succeed.
Near to the sacred ark in Nob I'm station'd:
Th'ark of the covenant in former times
Stood in the centre of the camp; but now
'Tis deem'd too much, if e'en clandestinely
That camp is enter'd by God's minister:
Where Saul is monarch, a strange visitant
The priest is held; but he is not so, no,
Where Israel fights; if still, as formerly,
Through God we triumph. Dost thou not know me?
What wonder? Dost thou better know thyself?—
Thou hast withdrawn thy footsteps from God's path;
And I within the tabernacle dwell,
Where dwells the great Jehovah, there, where thou
For a long time, oh Saul, hast not been seen.
I tell thee, king, I am Ahimelech.

Sa.
That name proclaims thee, as thou art, a traitor:
Now art thou recognized. Before my sight
Thou comest opportunely. Now confess,
Art thou not he, who to the banish'd David
Gav'st an asylum, nourishment, and safety,
Deliverance and arms? And say what arms!
Goliah's sacred sword, which, dedicate
To God, within the tabernacle hung,
Whence, with profane hand thou removed'st it,
And girded'st it on the perfidious foe
Of thy sole lord and king?—Thou comest, miscreant,
What doubt is there, with treason to the camp? ...

Ahi.
Assuredly I come there to betray thee;
Since on thy arms I come to entreat God
For victory, which he to thee denies;
Yes, I am he, that, with benignant hand,
Assisted David. But who is that David?
Of the king's daughter is not he the husband?
Not the most valiant 'mid thy men of valour?
Not the most graceful, most humane, most just,
Of Israel's sons? Say, is he not in war
Thy shield, and thy defender? And in peace,
Is he not in thy palace, with his songs,
The master of thy heart? The love of maidens,
The people's joy, the terror of our foes?
Such, such was he that I presumed to rescue.
And thou thyself, didst thou not erewhile chuse him
For the first honours? Not select his arm
To guide thy battles? To bring back once more
The shout of victory to the camp? To chase
That terror of defeat, which in thy heart
Thy God hath placed? If thou condemnest me,
Thou, at the same time, dost condemn thyself.

Sa.
Whence, whence in you springs pity? whence in you
Inveterate priests, revengeful, thirsty ever
For human blood? To Samuel did it seem
A crime unpardonable that I slew not
Th'Amalekitish king, with arms in hand,
Taken in flight; a mighty king, a warrior,
Of ardent generous temper, and profuse
Of his own life-blood in his people's service.
Unhappy king! dragg'd in my presence, he
Came manacled; yet he preserved, though vanquish'd,
A noble pride, as far from insolence,
As from all abjectness. Of courage guilty
To cruel Samuel he appear'd: three times
In his defenceless bosom did he plunge,
With sacerdotal hand, the reeking sword.
These are your triumphs, these, vile fanatics.
But he who dares to lift his haughty brow
Against his lawful monarch, he, in you,
Finds an asylum, a support, a shield,
All other objects occupy your hearts
More than the altar. Who are, who are ye?
A selfish, cruel, and malignant tribe,
Who yourselves shelter'd, at our dangers laugh,
And kirtled in effeminate robes, presume
To govern us who sweat in cumbrous mail:
Us, who, 'mid blood-shed, apprehension, death,
Lead, for our wives, our children, and yourselves,
Lives of perpetuated wretchedness.
Cowards, less dignified than prating gossips,
Would you with lithe wands, and fantastic hymns,
O'er us, and o'er our weapons, arbitrate.

Ahi.
And thou, who art thou? of the earth a king:
But in God's sight who reigns?—Examine, Saul,
Thyself; thou only art crown'd nothingness.—
I, by myself am nothing; but I am
A thunderbolt, a whirlwind, and a tempest,
If God descends in me; that mighty God
Who fashion'd thee; who scarcely bends his eye
On thee, and where is Saul?—It ill fits thee
To plead the cause of Agag; foolishly
Dost thou pursue him in forbidden paths.
For a perverse king, save the hostile sword,
Is there a punishment? And does a sword
Smite unpermitted by Almighty God?
God writes his vengeances in adamant;
Nor to Philistia's, less than Israel's sons,
Does he commit them.—Tremble, Saul: I see
Already in a sable cloud on high,
Death's dreadful angel poised on fiery wings.
Already with one hand hath he unsheathed
The pitiless, retributory sword;
And with the other, from thy guilty head
He plucks thy hoary tresses: tremble, Saul.—
There is who doth impel thee to destruction:
'Tis he; this Abner, instrument of Satan;
He, who hath poison'd with suspicions vile
Thy aged heart; he who hath dwindled thee
From a crown'd warrior to a less than child.
Thou, thou infatuate man, dost now remove
The only true and steadfast prop of thee
And of thy house. Where is the house of Saul?
On quicksands it is built; it shakes already;
It falls; it moulders into dust; 'tis gone.—

Sa.
Prescient of my calamities art thou,
And not so of thy own. Hast thou not seen,
Ere to the camp thou camest, that death here
Awaited thee? this I predict; and soon
Shall Abner's hand this prophecy fulfil.—
My faithful Abner go, and change at once
All the arrangements of the impious David;
For every one of them conceals a plot.
To-morrow fight we with the rising sun,
The beauteous day-star, of my hardihood
Shall be the witness. I am now aware,
That from malignity the thought arose
In David's breast, to chuse the afternoon
For the attack, as most indicative
Of my declining arm: but we shall see.—
I feel my martial spirits braced afresh
By thy rebukes; to-morrow I am leader:
The entire day will be inadequate
To the great slaughter which I shall inflict.
Abner, now quickly from my presence drag
This miscreant, and dispatch him.

Jon.
I beseech thee,
Father, reflect a little ...

Sa.
Hold thy peace.—
He shall be slain; and his unworthy blood
Shall fall on the Philistines.

Ab.
Death is his
Already ...

Sa.
But to satisfy my vengeance
He only is too little. Let Nob feel
That vengeance also; let it smite, consume,
Servants, and cattle, mothers, houses, babes,
And to the desolating winds disperse
All the flagitious race. Thy priests may now
Exclaim with truth, “There is a Saul!”—My hand,
So oft by you provoked to homicide,
Never smote you: from hence, and hence alone
You scorn that hand.

Ahi.
No king can hinder me
From dying like a just man; whence my death
Will be as welcome as it is illustrious.
Yours, for a long time, by Almighty God
Hath been irrevocably seal'd. By swords,
Yet not in battle, not by hostile swords,
Abner and thou shall both be vilely slain.
Let me go hence.—I have at last address'd
God's final sentence to a reprobate,
And he is deaf: my mission is accomplish'd:
I have lived faithful, faithful shall I die.

Sa.
Quick let him hence be dragg'd to punishment;
To agonizing and protracted death.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Saul, Jonathan.
Jon.
Ill-advised king, what art thou doing? pause ...

Sa.
Must I once more command thee to be silent?—
Art thou a warrior? thou a son of mine?
Art thou a champion of the Israelites?
Go, go; return to Nob; and there fill thou
His empty seat: worthy art thou alone
To live in indolence with drowsy priests,
Not 'mid the tumults of grim-visaged war,
Not 'mid the lofty cares of royalty ...

Jon.
I also at thy side in combat fierce
Have overcome, in multitudes, thy foes.
But this, which now thou dost presume to shed,
Is sacerdotal, not Philistine blood.
Alone thou standest in a fight so impious ...

Sa.
I am alone sufficient for the contest,
Whate'er that contest be. Do thou to-morrow
Join the encounter with reluctant steps:
I only shall be Saul. What then avail
David or Jonathan? Saul is the leader.

Jon.
Beside thee shall I fight. Ah! may I fall
Lifeless before thine eyes, rather than see
That which awaits thy reprobated blood!

Sa.
And what awaits it? death? death in the field?
This is a monarch's death.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Michal, Saul, Jonathan.
Sa.
Thou, without David? ...

Mi.
I cannot find him ...

Sa.
I will find him.

Mi.
He
Perhaps is far distant; he avoids thy anger ...

Sa.
Though he had wings my anger should o'ertake him.
Woe, if in battle he presents himself:
Woe, if to-morrow, when my foes are conquer'd,
Thou bring'st him not to me!

Mi.
Oh Heaven!

Jon.
Ah father ...

Sa.
I have no children.—Quickly, Jonathan,
Resume thy place among the troops. And thou,
Seek and find David.

Mi.
Ah! ... with thee ...

Sa.
In vain.

Jon.
Father, shall I fight far from thee?

Sa.
From me
Be all of you afar. Ye, all of you,
Vie with each other in betraying me.
Go, I command it: quickly fly from hence.

SCENE THE SEVENTH.

Saul.
Sa.
I to myself am left.—Myself alone,
(Unhappy king!) myself alone I dread not.