 | The Mighty Magician |  |
SCENE III.
The Hall of Justice in Antioch; Aurelio, Fabio, Senators, &c., just risen from Council.Aurelio.
You have done well indeed; the very Church
These Christians flock'd to for safe blasphemy
Become the very net to catch them in.
How many, think you?
Fabio.
Not so many, sir,
As some that are of the most dangerous.
Aur.
Among the rest this girl, Lisandro's daughter,
As you and I know, Fabio, to our cost:
But now convicted and condemn'd is safe
From troubling us or Antioch any more.
Come, such good service asks substantial thanks;
What shall it be?
Fabio.
No other, if you please,
Than my son Floro's liberation,
Whom not without good reason for so long
You keep under the city's lock and key.
Aur.
As my own Lelio, and for a like cause;
Who both distracted by her witchery
Turn'd from fast friends to deadly enemies,
And, in each other's lives, so aimed at ours.
But no more chance of further quarrel now
For one whom Death anticipates for bride
Ere they again gird weapon at their side,
Set them both free forthwith.—
[Exit Fabio.
This cursèd woman whose fair face and foul
Behaviour was the city's talk and trouble,
Now proved a sorceress, is well condemn'd;
Not only for my sake and Fabio's,
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She might, like ours, have carried after her
Through lust and duel into blasphemy.
Re-enter Fabio with Lelio and Floro.
Lelio.
Once more, sir, at your feet—
Aur.
Up, both of you.
Floro and Lelio, you understand
What I have done was of no testy humour,
But for three several sakes—
Your own, your fathers', and the city's peace.
Henceforward, by this seasonable use
Of public law for private purpose check'd,
Your fiery blood to better service turn.
Take hands, be friends; the cause of quarrel gone—
Lelio.
The cause of quarrel gone!—
Aur.
Be satisfied;
You will know better by and bye; meanwhile
Taking upon my word that so it is;
Which were it not indeed, you were not here
To doubt.
Floro
(aside).
Oh flimsy respite of revenge!—
Aur.
And now the business of the day well crown'd
With this so happy reconciliation,
You and I, Fabio, to our homes again,
Our homes once more, replenish'd with the peace
We both have miss'd so long.—What noise is that?
(Cries without).
Stop him! A madman! Stop him!—
Aur.
What is it, Fabio?
Fabio.
One like mad indeed,
In a strange garb, with flaring eyes, and hair
That streams behind him as he flies along,
Dragging a cloud of rabble after him.
Aur.
This is no place for either—shut the doors,
And post the soldiers to keep peace without—
(Cries without).
Stop him!
Floro and Lelio.
'Tis Cipriano!—
Aur.
Cipriano!—
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Cipriano.
Aye, Cipriano, Cipriano's self,
Heretofore mad as you that call him so,
Now first himself.—Noble Aurelio,
Who sway'st the sword of Rome in Antioch;
And you, companions of my youthful love
And letters; you grave senate ranged above;
And you whose murmuring multitude below
Do make the marble hall of justice rock
From base to capital—hearken unto me:
Yes, I am Cipriano: I am he
So long and strangely lost, now strangely found—
The famous doctor of your schools, renown'd
Not Antioch only but the world about
For learning's prophet-paragon forsooth;
Who long pretending to provide the truth
For other men in fields where never true
Wheat, but a crop of mimic darnel grew,
Reap'd nothing for himself but doubt, doubt, doubt.
Then 'twas that looking with despair and ruth
Over the blasted harvest of my youth,
I saw Justina: saw, and put aside
The barren Pallas for a mortal bride
Divinelier fair than she is feign'd to be:
But in whose deep-entempled chastity
That look'd down holy cold upon my fire,
Lived eyes that but re-doubled vain desire.
Till this new passion, that more fiercely prey'd
Upon the wither'd spirit of dismay'd
Ambition, swiftly by denial blew
To fury that, transcending all control,
I made away the ruin of my soul
To one whom no chance tempest at my feet
In the mid tempest of temptation threw.
Who blinding me with the double deceit
Of loftier aspiration and more low
Than mortal or immortal man should owe
Fulfill'd for me, myself for his I bound;
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In yonder mountain, while about its head
The sun his garland of the seasons wound,
In the dark school of magic I so read,
And wrought to such a questionable power
The black forbidden art I travail'd in,
That though the solid mountain from his base
With all his forest I might counterplace,
I could not one sweet solitary flower
Of beauty to my magic passion win.
Because her God was with her in that hour
To guard her virtue more than mountain-fast:
That only God, whom all my learning past
Fail'd to divine, but from the very foe
That would have kept Him from me come to know,
I come to you, to witness and make known:
One God, eternal, absolute, alone;
Of whom Christ Jesus—Jesus Christ, I say—
And, Antioch, open all your ears to-day—
Of that one Godhead one authentic ray,
Vizor'd awhile his Godhead in man's make,
Man's sin and death upon Himself to take;
For man made man; by man unmade and slain
Upon the cross that for mankind He bore—
Dead—buried—and in three days ris'n again
To His hereditary glory, bearing
All who with Him on earth His sorrow sharing
With Him shall dwell in glory evermore.
And all the gods I worship'd heretofore,
And all that you now worship and adore,
From thundering Zeus to cloven-footed Pan,
But lies and idols, by the hand of man
Of brass and stone—fit emblems as they be,
With ears that hear not; eyes that cannot see;
And multitude where only One can be—
From man's own lewd imagination built;
By that same devil held to that old guilt
Who tempted me to new. To whom indeed
If with my sin and blood myself I fee'd
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I trust to cancel in the double flood
Of baptism past, and the quick martyrdom
To which with this confession I am come.
Oh delegate of Cæsar to devour
The little flock of Jesus Christ! Behold
One lost sheep just admitted to the fold
Through the pure stream that rolling down the same
Mountain in which I sinn'd, and as I came
By holy hands administer'd, to-day
Shall wash the mountain of my sin away.
Lo, here I stand for judgment; by the blow
Of sudden execution, or such slow
Death as the devil shall, to maintain his lies,
By keeping life alive in death, devise.
Hack, rack, dismember, burn—or crucify,
Like Him who died to find me; Him that I
Will die to find; for whom, with whom, to die
Is life; and life without, and all his lust,
But dust and ashes, dust and ashes, dust—
(He falls senseless to the ground.)
Aurelio
(after a long pause).
So public and audacious blasphemy
Demands as instant vengeance. Wretched man,
Arise and hear your sentence—
Lelio.
Oh, sir, sir!
You speak to ice and marble—Cipriano!
Oh lookt for long, and best for ever lost!
But he is mad—he knows not what he says—
You would not, surely, on a madman visit
What only sane confession makes a crime?
Aur.
I never know how far such blasphemy,
Which seems to spread like wild-fire in the world,
Be fault or folly: only this I know,
I dare not disobey the stern decree
That Cæsar makes my office answer for.
Especially when one is led away
Of such persuasion and authority,
Still drawing after him the better blood
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Lelio.
Cipriano! Cipriano! Yet, pray the gods
He be past hearing me!
Fabio
(to Aurelio).
Sir, in your ear—
Justina's hour is come; and through the room
Where she was doom'd, she passes to her doom.
Aur.
Let us be gone; they must not look on her,
Nor know she is to die until “to die”
Be past predicament. Here let her wait,
Till he she drew along with her to sin
Revive to share with her its punishment.
Come, Lelio—come, Floro—be assured
I loved and honour'd this man as yourselves
Have honour'd him—but now—
Lelio.
Nay, sir, but—
Aur.
Nay,
Not I, but Cæsar, Lelio. Come away.
[Exeunt. Then Justina is brought in by soldiers, and left alone.]
Just.
All gone—all silence—and the sudden stroke,
Whose only mercy I besought, delay'd
To make my pang the fiercer.—What is here?—
Dead?—By the doom perhaps I am to die,
And laid across the threshold of the road
To trip me up with terror—Yet not so,
If but the life, once lighted here, has flown
Up the the living Centre that my own
Now trembles to!—God help him, breathing still?—
—Cipriano!—
Cipr.
Aye, I am ready—I can rise—
Is my time come?—Oh, God!
Have I repented and confest too late,
And this terrible witness of my crime
Stands at the door of death from which it came
To draw me deeper—
Just.
Cipriano!
Cipr.
Yet
Not yet disfeatured—nor the voice—
Oh, if not That—this time unsummon'd—come
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Once more—once more—assure me!—
Justina
(taking his hand).
Cipriano!—
Cipr.
And this, too, surely, is a living hand:
Though cold, oh, cold indeed—but yet, but yet,
Not dust and ashes, dust and ashes—
Just.
No—
But soon to be—
Cipr.
But soon—but soon to be—
But not as then?—
Just.
I understand you not—
Cipr.
I scarce myself—I must have been asleep—
But now not dreaming?
Just.
No, not dreaming.
Cipr.
No—
This is the judgment-hall of Antioch,
In which—I scarcely mind how long ago—
Is sentence pass'd on me?—
Just.
This is indeed
The judgment-hall of Antioch; but why
You here, and what the judgment you await,
I know not—
Cipr.
No.—But stranger yet to me
Why you yourself, Justina.—Oh my God!
It flashes all across me!
What, all your life long giving God his due,
Is treason unto Cæsar?—
Just.
Aye, Cipriano—
Against his edict having crept inside
God's fold with that good Shepherd for my guide,
My Saviour Jesus Christ!
Cipr.
My Saviour too,
And Shepherd—oh, the only good and true
Shepherd and Saviour—
Just.
You confess Him! You
Confess Him, Cipriano!
Cipr.
With my blood:
Which being all to that confession pledged,
Now waits but to be paid.
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Oh, we shall die,
And go to heav'n together!
Cipr.
Amen! Amen!—
And yet—
Just.
You do not fear—and yet no shame—
What I have faced so long, that present dread
Is almost lost in long anticipation—
Cipr.
I fear not for this mortal. Would to God
This guilty blood by which in part I trust
To pay the forfeit of my soul with Heav'n
Would from man's hand redeem the innocence
That such atonement needs not.
Just.
Oh, to all
One faith and one atonement—
Cipr.
But if both,
If both indeed must perish by the doom
That one deserves and cries for—Oh, Justina,
Who upward ever with the certain step
Of faith hast follow'd unrepress'd by sin;
Now that thy foot is almost on the floor
Of heav'n, pray Him who opens thee the door,
Let with thee one repenting sinner in!
Just.
What more am I? And were I close to Him
As he upon whose breast he leaned on here,
No intercessor but Himself between
Himself and the worst sinner of us all—
If but repenting we believe in Him.
Cipr.
I do believe—I do repent—my faith
Have sign'd in water, and will seal in blood—
Just.
I have no other hope, but, in that, all.
Cipr.
Oh hope that almost is accomplishment,
Believing all with nothing to repent!
Just.
Oh, none so good as not to need—so bad
As not to find, His mercy. If you doubt
Because of your long dwelling in the darkness
To which the light was folly—oh 'twas shown
To the poor shepherd long before the wise;
And if to me, as simple—oh, not mine,
Not mine, oh God! the glory—nor ev'n theirs
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Methinks I see them bending from the skies
To take me up to them!
Cipr.
Whither could I
But into heaven's remotest corner creep,
Where I might only but discern thee, lost
With those you love in glory—
Just.
Hush! hush! hush!
These are wild words—if I so speak to one
So wise, while I am nothing—
But as you know—Oh, do not think of me,
But Him, into whose kingdom all who come
Are as His angels—
Cipr.
Aye, but to come there!—
Where if all intercession, even thine,
Be vain—you say so—yet before we pass
The gate of death together, as we shall,—
If then to part—for ever, and for ever—
Unless with your forgiveness in my hand—
But say that you forgive me!—
Just.
I forgive!
Still I, and I, again! Oh, Cipriano,
Pardon and intercession both alike
With Him alone; and had I to forgive—
Did not He pray upon the cross for those
Who slew Him—as I hope to do on mine
For mine—He bids us bless our enemies
And persecutors; which I think, I think,
You were not, Cipriano—why do you shudder?—
Save in pursuit of that—if vain to me,
Now you know all—
Cipr.
I now know all—but you
Not that, which asking your forgiveness for,
I dare not name to you, for fear the hand
I hold as anchor-fast to, break away,
And I drive back to hell upon a blast
That roar'd behind me to these very doors,
But stopt—ev'n in the very presence stopt,
That most condemns me his.
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Alas, alas,
Again all wild to me. The time draws short—
Look not to me, but Him tow'rd whom alone
Sin is, and pardon comes from—
Cipr.
Oh, Justina,
You know not how enormous is my sin—
Just.
I know, not as His mercy infinite.
Cipr.
To Him—to thee—to Him through thee—
Just.
'Tis written,
Not all the sand of ocean, nor the stars
Of heav'n so many as His mercies are.
Cipr.
What! ev'n for one who, mad with pouring vows
Into an unrelenting human ear,
Gave himself up to Antichrist—the Fiend—
Though then for such I knew him not—to gain
By darkness all that love had sought in vain!
—Speak to me—if but that hereafter I
Shall never, never, hear your voice again—
Speak to me—
Just.
(after a long pause).
—By the Saviour on His cross
A sinner hung who but at that last hour
Cried out to be with Him; and was with Him
In Paradise ere night.
Cipr.
But was his sin
As mine enormous?—
Just.
Shall your hope be less,
Offering yourself for Christ's sake on that cross
The other only suffer'd for his sin?
Oh, when we come to perish, side by side,
Look but for Him between us crucified,
And call to Him for mercy; and, although
Scarlet, your sin shall be as white as snow!
Cipr.
Ev'n as you speak, yourself, though yet yourself,
In that full glory that you saw reveal'd
With those you love transfigured, and your voice
As from immeasurable altitude
Descending, tell me that, my shame and sin
Quencht in the death that opens wide to you
The gate, ev'n this great sinner shall pass through,
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Just.
Glory to God!—
Oh blest assurance on the very verge
That death is swallow'd up in victory!
And hark! the step of death is at the door—
Courage!—Almighty God through Jesus Christ
Pardon your sins and mine, and as a staff
Guide and support us through the terrible pass
That leads us to His rest!—
Cipr.
My own beloved!
Whose hand—Oh let it be no sin to say it!—
Is as the staff that God has put in mine—
To lead me through the shadow—yet ev'n now—
Ev'n now—at this last terrible moment—
Which, to secure my being with thee, thee
Forbids to stand between my Judge and me,
And in a few more moments, soul and soul
May read each other as an open scroll—
Yet, wilt thou yet believe me not so vile
To thee, to Him who made thee what thou art,
Till desperation of the only heart
I ever sigh'd for, by I knew not then
How just alienation, drove me down
To that accursèd thing?
Just.
My Cipriano!
Dost thou remember, in the lighter hour—
Then when my heart, although you saw it not,
All the while yearn'd to thee across the gulf
That yet it dared not pass—my telling thee
That only Death, which others disunites,
Should ever make us one? Behold! and now
The hour is come, and I redeem my vow.
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Citizen 1.
Alas! alas! alas! So young a pair!
And one so very wise!
Cit. 2.
And one so fair!
Cit. 3.
And both as calmly walking to their death
As others to a marriage festival.
Julian.
Looking as calm, at least, Eusebio,
As when, do you remember, at the last
Great festival of Zeus, we left him sitting
Upon the hill-side with his books?
Eusebio.
I think
Almost the last we saw of him: so soon,
Flinging his studies and his scholars by,
He went away into that solitude
Which ended in this madness, and now death
With her he lost his wits for.
Cit. 1.
And has found
In death whom living he pursued in vain.
Cit. 2
And after death, as they believe; and so
Thus cheerfully to meet it, if the scaffold
Divorce them to eternal union.
Cit. 3.
Strange that so wise a man
Should fall into so fond a superstition
Which none but ignorance has taken up.
Cit.
Oh, love, you know, like time works wonders.
Eusebio.
Well—
Antioch will never see so great a scholar.
Julian.
Nor we so courteous a Professor—
I would not see my dear old master die
Were all the wits he lost my legacy.
Citizens
talking.
One says that, as they went out hand in hand,
He saw a halo like about the moon
About their head, and moving as they went.
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I saw it—
Fancy! fancy!—
Any how,
They leave it very dark behind them—Thunder!
They talk of madness and of blasphemy;
Neither of these, I think, looking much guilty.
And he, at any rate, I still maintain,
Least like to be deluded by the folly
For which the new religion is condemn'd.
Before his madness, certainly: but love
First crazed him, as I told you.
Well, if mad,
How guilty?
Hush! hush! These are dangerous words.
Be not you bitten by this madness, neighbour.
Rome's arm is long.
Aye, and some say her ears.
Then, ev'n if bitten, bark not—Thunder again!
And what unnatural darkness!
Well—a storm—
They say, you know, he was a sorcerer—
Indeed we saw the mystic dress he wore
All wrought with figures of astrology;
Nay, he confest himself as much; and now
May raise a storm to save—
There was a crash!
A bolt has fallen somewhere—the walls shake—
And the ground under—
Save us, Zeus—
Voices.
Away!—
The roof is falling in upon us—
(The wall at the back falls in, and discovers a scaffold with Cipriano and Justina dead, and Lucifer above them.)
Lucifer.
Stay!—
And hearken to what I am doom'd to tell.
I am the mighty minister of hell
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Of those false gods you worship for the True;
Who, to revenge her treason to the blind
Idolatry that has hoodwinkt mankind,
And his, whose halting wisdom after-knew
What her diviner virtue fore-divined,
By devilish plot and artifices thought
Each of them by the other to have caught;
But, thwarted by superior will, those eyes
That, by my fuel fed, had been a flame
To light them both to darkness down, became
As stars to lead together to the skies,
By such a doom as expiates his sin,
And her pure innocence lets sooner in
To that eternal bliss where, side by side,
They reign at His right hand for whom they died.
While I, convicted in my own despite
Thus to bear witness to the eternal light
Of which I lost, and they have won the crown,
Plunge to my own eternal darkness down.
| The Mighty Magician | |