University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene as in the previous Act.
Enter Merovig and Ramis through the principal entrance; Thusnelda, coming through a side-door (R.), meets them.
Thusn.
Right welcome, Merovig! You've kept your word,
And come most opportunely; oh, if only
The gods would make your coming turn to good!

Mer.
I hope they purpose so; 'tis good I bring;
I bring glad tidings of deliverance.
This very night our faithful band shall break
Into these walls, to carry you away!
The guards are all won over, horses near
To carry us in flight across the plains.
And once the Apennines are reached—

Thusn.
Enough!
Too much! Before we think of harvesting,
Let us be certain that the seed is sown!

Mer.
There's something in thy look, so calm, so sad!
Can that be true, which Ramis told me of?
He would not yield to thee; he would remain,
What Rome has made of him, a gladiator!

Ram.
Yes, with our foes he sides! In Roman hands
He has grown Roman!

Thusn.
No! He is German still,
In every heart-beat, every drop of blood
True German! German constancy it is
He clings to Rome with, for Rome brought him up;
German the courage urges him to fight,
German the whim that will be anything
Rather than German! Yes, he is a German,
And just because he is one, that is why—

Thum.
(is heard without).
Io, Bacchus! Fill high, Lycisca!

Thusn.
(shuddering).
His voice!
How! drinking-songs and clink of cups!

Ram.
Just so!
Arminius' son holds revel, shouts and swills,
And lolls on downy pillows, with full cups,
His girl upon his breast!

Thusn.
Let him swill on!
Let his impulsive nature, wild, untamed,
Break like the ocean's billows on the shore.
Let all the flower-blooms from the tree of life
Come showering to the ground, and all at once;
Let youth's fresh springs steam out in bubbling jets,
'Tis fermentation ripens noble wine!

Mer.
Ay, were it manly force, not boyish folly,
Were it true vigour, bubbling over, not
Mere feebleness, that wallows in the mire;
For where the spirit soars not, hope is vain!

Thusn.
You're wroth with him, misjudge him, both of you!
And wherefore are you wroth? Because at first
He treated me so rudely? Think! He is
A gladiator, and, as such, is he
Not bound to fight, and triumph if he can?
Then, was it strange, he broke into a rage?
Or would not sacrifice the things he prized,
When scorn was all I offered him instead?
But when your purpose is unveiled, and he
Is shown a people,—nay, a host of peoples,
All Germany,—sworn in fealty to his flag,
When I appeal to him to do great deeds,—
The meanest sure of immortality,—
Then from his eyes the blinding scales will fall—
For man grows greater with a great career—
Then will he feel, both who and what he is—

Lycisca
is heard singing without, to the accompaniment of a lute—
“Burning kisses, spicy wine!
Now the grape's red blood to sip,
Now the purple of thy lip!
Burning kisses, spicy wine
Make a mortal half divine!”

Thumelicus
is heard singing in chorus—
“Make a mortal half divine!”


Io, Bacchus, Io!

Thusn.
(aside).
Woe's me! These sounds have sent
A chill into my heart! Oh, if false Rome
So wholly has enervated his soul,
So through and through envenomed all his heart,—
No, come what may, whate'er the hours may bring,
Not by my son shall Germany be shamed!

Mer.
(after a pause).
Time presses! We must settle on our course.

Thusn.
Ramis! go call my son to me! And look
About, that no one plays the spy on us!

(Exit Ramis, L.H.)
Mer.
I could have wished thou hadst not until now
Concealed from him the object brought me here!
The games come off to-morrow; instant flight
Alone can save him; should he hesitate,
Turn a deaf ear to all that we can urge—

Thusn.
The heavens, I hope, will smile upon our task!

Mer.
Hope, say'st thou? then thou fearest! Not till hope
Abandons men, do they appeal to heaven;
And didst thou really in thy son believe—

Thusn.
I in the gods believe, and, come what will,
I will not hold my country's cause for lost!—
He's here! Quick! Step aside!

Thum.
(entering with Ramis, L.)
The pestilence
Gnaw up thy bones! I am to come! Old hag,
And where am I to come to, and to whom?

Ram.
There is thy mother, let her answer thee!

Thusn.
Come nearer, Sigmar!

Thum.
Now, what is it? Speak!
But, pray you, make it short! I have some guests,
Or rather, I'm invited as a guest,
Or, better still, I'm being entertained!
What is it? Speak!

Thusn.
My son, look up, and see
The man there!

Thum.
Him! Him yonder! Rare, oh rare!
The bearskin and the helm with vulture wings—
Ay! now I comprehend! (Going up to Merovig and surveying him all round.)
Handsome, by Jove!
Sits famously, and yet true German!

Thusn.
How!
Hast lost thy wits? For whom tak'st thou this man?

Thum.
The man there? Why, whom should I take him for,
But some one whom the Cæsar has sent here,
To let me see him in the dress which I
To-morrow in the Circus am to wear?

Thusn.
Unworthy error, shameful as the life
Which Rome has made thee lead! Deluded boy,
Know, 'tis thy father's brother-in-arms, whom there
Thou seest before thee, who to reach there took
Service in Rome's Teutonic Cohort; he,
He is the help that Germany sends thee, he
Is thy deliverer.

Mer.
And what's more than all,
A true friend, even as to thy sire he was!

Thum.
A friend, deliverer! What stuff you talk!

Mer.
My prince!—for such, after thy father's death,
It seem'st to us Cheruscans meet to call thee—
My prince, I am sent by Germany, and she calls
To thee through me: “Up! think upon the shame
That I have suffered in Arminius' line;
Son of a hero, grasp thy father's sword,
And, in avenging them, avenge thy native land!”

Thusn.
Dost comprehend, my son? They call to thee,
The tribes that dwell 'twixt Danube and the Rhine,
On from the Spessart to Carpathia's hills,
'Tis all vast Germany that calls to thee!
Up! the cry echoes like a thunder-peal,
Swords clash, and trumpets mingle with the call,
“Up, up, Arminius' son! avenge thyself,
And, doing that, avenge, avenge us all!”

Mer.
The princes, with the peoples, wait for thee.
Stand forth among them! Only lift thy hand,
One glance from thee, and they are up in arms!
To work, then! We must fly this very night.

Thum.
Has the wine got into my brain, and set
It spinning round—or are you mad? I fly!
I rouse the tribes of Germany to arms!

Thusn.
Dost quail? Thou say'st thou art a gladiator,
And fighting thy vocation; now then, show
What thou canst do! Let Rome—this haughty Rome,
That, under all its ivory and gold
Which charm thee, is but crumbling rottenness;
This vast imperial Rome, that bends beneath
A madman's rule; Rome, that no more believes
In its gods, or in itself; Rome, that has held
Us both in chains, made thee a gladiator,
And now is bent on murdering thee,—let Rome
Be thy antagonist, strike home at her,
Down with her to the dust! Rome, vanquish Rome?

Thum.
Pshaw! Ask me to fetch down the moon from heaven!
'Twere just as easy. Who e'er vanquished Rome?

Mer.
We smote her in the Teutoburger Forest!

Thusn.
How! deem'st thou us too weak? Then follow us,
Come to our forests! Learn there to be free,
And to prize freedom; there see justice rule—
Not mere caprice as here—and truth,—here all
Is treachery and lies! There ripen to
A man 'mongst men; feel, comprehend, that we
Are now what these around us here were once,
And hurl Rome down,—for ours, ours is the world!

Thum.
And wherefore Rome? What ill has Rome e'er done
To me, or Germany what good, that I
For Germany should fall to feud with Rome?
What's Germany to me?

Thusn.
How, boy! the land
For which thy father bled—the land in which
Thou'rt born to empire, a Cheruscan prince!
Dost thou renounce thy birthright?

Mer.
Can it be?
How! Shut thine eyes when thy home beckons thee;
Close up thine ears when she, thy mother, calls!
Thou canst, thou wilt not—

Thum.
Wherefore can I not?
If Germany, my mother, as you say,
Through twenty years took neither thought of me,
Nor of her there, that was Arminius' wife,
Why, in the name of all the gods, should I
Not turn my back upon this raven mother?
What's Germany to me, I ask again?
I am no German, no Cheruscan prince;
I was, and am, and ever will remain,
Thumelicus, the gladiator of Ravenna.

Thusn.
(after a pause, turning to Merovig).
Speak thou to him—I have no more to say.

Mer.
Were I a man that in a splash of words
Forgets the core of things, by Thor's sledge-hammer
Home would I go, and leave thee here to be
A gladiator to thy heart's content!
But thou'rt Arminius' son, the only man
Might fuse our German forces into one;
And therefore I still tarry, and implore,
Do not, because thou'rt wroth with Germany,
Forget thyself, but, for thine own sake, do
What thou'dst not do for us! We offer thee
An army, power, command, to win for thee
The purple of the Cæsars! Do not spurn
What ne'er will come again! Become our chief,
And Rome obeys thee, and the world is thine!

Thum.
Power and command!—The purple of the Cæsars!
Why, that's worth listening to, and, sooth to say,
I'll think about it. For to-day, enough!
Now I must go. We shall speak more of this
Some fitter time. To-morrow, or—

Mer.
To-morrow?
Does not to-morrow find you in the lists,
And shouldst thou—

Thum.
Fall? that's what you mean? No, no;
Conquer I must, and shall!

Mer.
Fool! If thou didst,
Dost thou suppose thou then shouldst have a choice?
Dost fondly fancy, Germany would e'er
Choose for her people's leader him who fought,
Dishonourably fought, a serf with serfs,—
The man to whom the populace of Rome
Flung chaplets in the Circus? Choose to-day,
Choose now or never! Later 'tis too late!

Thum.
Dishonourably! How! Dishonourably! All
Because I am a gladiator! I!
And for you Germans, who with folded hands
Have calmly let me grow to what I am!
Is not Aurelian a Roman knight?
Valens a military tribune now?
And what were these but gladiators too?—
And I, by you barbarians, savages,
Am to be scouted as dishonourable?
Well, then, give ear, and mark me once for all!
Never will I the Germans' leader be!
Though ye for me should win the universe,
Though Germany lay imploring at my feet—

Thusn.
(waving back Merovig, who has advanced in violent emotion).
Stay! Germany never did, nor ever shall,
Lie at the foot of any he that lives,
To beg of him to be her lord and chief!
Never shall Germany entreat! But I,
Thy mother, I beseech thee, O my son—
I, that in sorrow brought thee forth, in grief
Did suckle thee, and in despair's dark hour
Did lose thee—I, my son, implore thee now,
Make not the day that gave thee back to me
More bitter than the day that saw my loss!
Betray me not, my dearest, fondest hope;
Spare me the last, the deadliest of pangs!
Oh, let me not survive my only child!
For, fight to-morrow, fall away from us,
And from that hour thou to my heart art dead!
Far sooner would I see thee cold and stark,
A gashed and mangled corpse, than that thy head,
At once dishonoured and with victory crowned,
Should bear aloft the gladiator's wreath!
(After a pause, approaches Thumelicus, who stands with his face averted.)
Thou'rt wroth, my son! Yet not with me shouldst thou
Be wroth! I lived for thee, ay, lived when death
Offered me fame and freedom; then live now
For me! Repay the sacrifice I made!
Thou wear'st thy father's lineaments,—belie
Them not! Fair art thou, be in soul as fair!
Be thou a man, no gladiator churl;
And as thy birth proclaims thee for our own,
Be ours indeed! Come!
(Seizing his hand.)
'Twas denied to me,
To lead the feeble footsteps of the boy,
Now let me be the guide unto the man!
Come, Sigmar, come!

Thum.
(spurning her hand).
No, no! I tell thee, no!

Thusn.
Go, then!

Thum.
I will! Call me not back again,
Nor hope to make me change, no, not one jot,
For what I've said I've said for good and all!

(Exit by the side-door, L.)
Mer.
(after a pause, approaching Thusnelda).
Thusnelda!

Thusn.
Go thou too!

Mer.
Not without thee!
He chooses his own fate, then let him have it,
The rattle of his chains to him is music;
But thou, whose soul has need of liberty,
Come with me to thy people, to thy home!

Thusn.
Speak not of me! A grave is all I need!
Save him, my son! To-night break with thy friends
Into the house here,—carry him away
With your strong thews and sinews; set him free
By force!

Mer.
Who ever was made free by force?
Who would be free, must long for freedom, and
A slave in soul's a slave be where he may!

Thusn.
Dost by Arminius' son refuse to stand?

Mer.
By his son, no! by the gladiator, yes!
To take him with me, were to carry home
Poison, not healing,—not the tie to bind,
Rather the knife to sever! Let me lead
Thee with me homewards, be it mine to show
Thy countenance to those that waver still—

Thusn.
No! Do thy duty, leave me to do mine!
Here I remain. Away! But, back at home,
Tell them, whilst they in council sat, and paused
And pondered, a most noble spirit here
In slavery's stress and thraldom dire was wrecked!
Tell them, they came to a resolve too late,
And warn them, lest this same “Too late! Too late!”
Prove through all after-time our country's curse!
Not one word more! Go! Leave me!

Mer.
I obey!

(Exit up the stage, L.)
Thusn.
He's gone!—I hear his tread—and now all, all
Is over! He will fight to-morrow, fall
And die, unto his own eternal shame,
Blurring his sire's and country's honour both!
Am I to look on calmly? Let him sink,
Till I have tried my uttermost to save him?
Yet what to do? Appeal to Flavius? No!
From treason what but mischief can ensue?
Ye eternal gods, to you I call for aid!
Night lies upon my path, mist clouds mine eyes,
My brain is paralysed; one only thought
Burns like a fire deep down within my soul;
My son shall never be his country's shame!

Lycisca
(heard singing without).
“Burning kisses, spicy wine,
Juice of grape, and mingling kisses,
Fire the blood with twofold blisses;
Burning kisses, spicy wine,
Make a mortal half divine!”

Thumelicus
(also heard without).
“Make a mortal half divine!”


Io, Bacchus, Io!

Thusn.
Ye eternal gods!
Yes! In these sounds ye answer to my call!
Love holds him fast, and love must rescue him.
I must ally myself with her! Woe's me!
I am to—I, Thusnelda—oh, proud heart,
Dost quail? Imperious spirit, that scarce bowed
Even to the gods themselves, dost thou rebel?
Thou wouldst recoil, resist?—Ah, learn to stoop!
Thy son's life's in the balance! Learn to beg,
To kneel, and all thy shame be this, that thou
Didst for a moment shrink from such abasement.

Enter Lycisca from the side-door, L., speaking back into the room she has left.
Lyc.
That must do for to-day! To-morrow more!
You shan't come with me! Stay! I'll shut you in!

Thusn.
(going up to her).
Grant me a single word before you go!

Lyc.
You, is it? Here's a joke! What! speak to me!

Thusn.
Speak to thee? Ay, beseech thee! Howsoe'er
Unused to such a thing—I will beseech thee!

Lyc.
Me! beseech me! You, you a princess, me?

Thusn.
If my pride has offended thee, the gods,
Thou seest, have avenged thee—Then be warned
By my example—Meet me kindly, gently,
And hear with pity what a mother's heart
Cries out in its despair! Oh save my son!

Lyc.
How! Save thy son? Can I believe my ears?

Thusn.
The games are near; to-morrow is too late.
Let him not tread the Circus' hateful sand!
Your tears I know he never will resist—
He will obey, if you conjure him, you,
To fly, this very day, this very night!
In vain a future, noble, crowned with fame,
Awaits him in the mother-arms of home;
He spurns the happiness awaits him there!
Teach him to comprehend it, feel it; use
Thy influence—he loves thee, loves but thee!

Lyc.
His, his a future noble, crowned with fame?

Thusn.
Escape with us, and share his destiny!
There thou shalt lord it, rule as princess; here
Thou art a slave! His welfare, life's at stake—
If thou dost love him, save him then, oh save him!

Lyc.
(deeply moved, and half aside).
Oh, if 'twere possible! Were there a way
Out of the depths of my degraded lot!
I lord it, I to rule as princess there,
Cast off my old life, and forget my shame?
Forget it? Can the world, can I myself
Forget what has been? What all men have known,
Can that be hid? Impossible! No, no!

Thusn.
Thou doubtest? Do not doubt! I pray to thee,
As to the gods themselves! A gentle smile
To tell me that thou wilt! Thou must, thou must!

Lyc.
My heart aches for thee! How am I to say,
What must be hard, how soft soe'er my words?
In sooth, I dare not. Shall I? Yes, I must
Speak out! Thy hope is but a dream, thy prayer
Impossibility. Ah, not for me,
Nor for thy son, is rescue possible!

Thusn.
No rescue possible! When even now
All's ready for our flight, true friends at hand
To bear us home? No, no, I do not dream;
'Tis but thy fear. Nothing's impossible
To woman's love, or to a man's resolve!

Lyc.
Ay, there, deluded one, the mischief lies!
I am no woman, a poor flower-girl I.
We love not, neither are we loved! And he!
He is a gladiator, not a man;
The scourge instructed him; he can obey,
But not resolve. Whate'er the destiny
His home may offer, glorious and pure,
He lacks the eye that sees at once what's right,
The soul that presses forward, the staunch heart
That never flags till it achieves its task!
And I—enough of words! Learn this; she, who
Has sunk like me, can only—go on sinking!

Thusn.
Art stung with shame? Well, then, revenge thyself!
Is thy life flecked with spots? then wash them off
With Roman blood! The weapons are prepared,
And hosts stand ready to obey thy nod!
Come, follow us; save—save my son, and Rome
Shall pay thee for the wrongs she wrought on thee.

Lyc.
Say, can revenge give back what I have lost?
And you barbarians, would you scorn me less
Than do the sons of Rome? No, no. If e'er
It be decreed by fate that I shall rule,
'Tis here in Rome, not in your forest shades;
And if shame be my lot, at least Rome proffers
The bitter portion in a golden bowl.

Thusn.
And he—my son!—who, who shall save my son?
Of all that live on earth, thou only canst.
Look on my sorrow, let a mother's prayers
Subdue thee—else I must—yes, yes, I must!
(Falls at her feet.)
Behold me here a suppliant at thy feet!
Have pity on me! Pity! Do not leave
The last shoot of a noble stem distraught,
To perish in the Circus like a beast.

Lyc.
Stand up! Kneel not to me! It nor beseems
Thyself nor touches me! Be not alarmed.
No word shall 'scape my lips of what thou'st said.
Nay, more! Secure his freedom, if thou canst,
And take him home; but hope no aid from me.
If Fate shall seize on thee with ruthless hands,
And drag thee down into the mire of woe,
As though thou hadst been born in it, like us,
I will not aid, yet will I not prevent!
Even misery yearns for fellowship, and if
To sink must be my doom, drown thou as well!

(Exit up the stage, L.)
Thusn.
Lost, lost, all lost, beyond retrieval lost!
No mind to counsel, and no hand to aid!
Yes, she-wolf Rome, thou hast us in thy gripe;
The soul, that did not stifle in thy chains,
Perverts to poison underneath thy yoke.
Thou mak'st thy myrmidons of those who are
Worthless as slaves, so chainest down them all!
Woe's me, a woman wofully accursed,
Who in her bosom bore my country's shame!
Woe, that I brought her blight into the world!
Oh that the wheels of time would roll back, back,
Year after year, day after day, until
That hour should come again, the hour when I
Dropped, as I stood before Germanicus,
The hand was raised against myself, because
I found a second life within me stir.
Oh, were that hour but given to me again!

Ramis
(enters from the back, L., with a wreath of oak-leaves, and carrying a purple mantle on her arm).
A slave of Cæsar's met me at the gate
And asked—Thusnelda, dost thou hear?

Thusn.
What is it?

Ram.
Know, then, a slave of Cæsar's asked for thee,
And bade me take to thee this oaken wreath
And purple robe! 'Tis Cæsar's wish thou shouldst
Appear to-morrow in the Circus games
Arrayed in them!

Thusn.
The Cæsar wishes that!

Ram.
Thou art, so said the slave, on no account
To come without the wreath of oaken leaves;
For Cæsar wishes every eye should view
Germania personified in thee;
Therefore the oak-leaves must not be forgot!

Thusn.
I am to be Germania?

Ram.
So he said.

Thusn.
Oh that in sooth I were Germania,
With all Germania's courage in my soul,
With all Germania's anger in mine eye,
And all her giant vigour in mine arm!
Then, craven-hearted Rome, then shouldst thou quake
Down to the core of the sustaining earth!
Then—hark! Who speaks? What voice rings in my ears?
Or does it speak within me? “Up! accept
Germania's wreath, and do what she would do
To keep its noble leaves unstained and pure!
Back dost thou long to roll the wheels of time?
Well, then, we give that day to thee again,
And see thou use it better than before!”
(Puts out her hand to take the wreath.)
Germania I will be! Give me the wreath!
(Recoils.)
No, hence! The leaves are bloody. Hence!

Ram.
It is
The reflex of the purple cloak, Thusnelda!
What ails thee? Calm thyself!

Thusn.
Be still, my heart,
And summon all thy strength, world-weary soul!—
How ran the vow, which to the gods I made,
So they vouchsafed to place some high behest,
Some task of mighty import in my hands?
“I will fulfil it!” yes, these were my words—
I will fulfil it; and, if fail I may,
I'll break, as breaks the oak before the blast,
But bend I will not, ever! So it was!
(Seizing the wreath and placing it on her head.)
Come then, Germania's wreath, and rustle here
A Teutoburger Forest round my brows!

Ram.
What is thy purpose? Speak!

Thusn.
To keep my word!

(As she goes out with Ramis, the curtain falls.)