Miscellaneous Plays/Constantine Paleologus Act 1
CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS.
ACT I.
SCENE I. A large platform on the roof of the palace of Petronius, from which are seen spires and towers, and the broken roofs of houses, &c. with the general appearance of a ruined city, the distant parts involved in smoke. Ella is discovered with an attendant, standing on a balcony belonging to a small tower, rising from the side of the platform. As the curtain draws up the sound of artillery is heard.
Enter Othus and Marthon.
OTHUS.
Since first from our high station we beheld
This dismal siege begin! 'Midst level ruin,
Our city now shews but its batter'd towers,
Like the jagg'd bones of some huge animal,
Whose other parts the mould'ring hand of time
Has into dust reduc'd.
MARTHON (coldly).
To what thou hast compar'd it to,—How is't?
Art thou not from the walls?
OTHUS.
MARTHON.
Open'd its brazen mouth and spoke to us?
How brook'd thine ears that deep tremendous sound?
The coasts of Asia and th' Olympian heights,
Our land-begirded seas, and distant isles,
Spoke back to him again, in his own voice,
A deep and surly answer; but our city,
This last imperial seat of Roman greatness:
This head of the world, this superb successor
Of the earth's mistress, where so many Cæsars
In proud successive lines have held their sway,
What answer sent she back?
OTHUS.
Methinks thou hast a pleasure in the thought.
This head o' the world—this superb successor
Of the earth's mistress, as thou vainly speak'st,
Stands midst these ages as in the wide ocean
The last spar'd fragment of a spacious land
That in some grand and awful ministration
Of mighty nature has ingulphed been,
Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs
O'er the wild waste around, and sadly frowns
In lonely majesty. But shame upon it!
Her feeble, worthless, and degen'rate sons
MARTHON.
The fragments of a brave and mighty race,
Left on this lonely rock.
OTHUS.
Like silly sea-fowl from their burrow'd holes,
Who, staring senseless on th' invaders toil,
Stretch out their worthless necks, and cry "caw! caw!"
O, Paleologus! how art thou left,
Thou and thy little band of valiant friends,
To set your manly bosoms 'gainst the tide!
Ye are the last sparks of a wasted pyre
Which soon shall be trode out.—
We are the last green bough of an old oak,
Blasted and bare: the lovlier do ye seem
For its wan barrenness; but to its root
The axe is brought, and with it ye must fall.—
Ye areO God! it grasps my swelling throat
To think of what ye are.
MARTHON.
But still our gallant emp'ror and his friends,
Oppos'd to Mah'met and his num'rous host
With all his warlike engines, are in truth
As if one toss'd against the whirl'd-up sands
Of their Arabian plains, one grasp of dust.
OTHUS.
The essence and true spirit of their kind;
The soul of thousands. A brave band they are,
Not levied by the power and wealth of states;
And the best feelings of the human heart
Have been the agents of their princely chief,
Recruiting nobly. Virtuous Sympathy,
Who on the weaker and deserted side
His ample, lib'ral front doth ever range;
Keen Indignation, who, with clenched hand
And sternly-flashing eye, ever beholds
The high o'erbearing crest of proud oppression;
And gen'rous Admiration, above all,
Of noble deeds, whose heav'n-enlighten'd smile,
And imitative motion, ever wake
With eager heart-throbs at the glorious sight
Of manly daring, have unto their numbers
Some score of dauntless spirits lately added;
Such as would ride upon the whirlwind's back,
If it might be, and with Heaven's spearmen cope.
With such a band, methinks, all things are possible.
MARTHON (smiling).
Who in gay banquets spend'st thy giddy nights,
And o'er some sculptur'd stone, or ancient lore,
Each idle morning waft'st in the cool shade,
Thou speakest with a bold and warlike voice!
OTHUS (throwing back his cloak, and shewing under it a warlike garb, with the scarf and devices belonging to the imperial band).
Behold what now I am! thou shrinkest back,
And looked strangely on me: give thy lips
No friendly blessing to my new estate?
MARTHON.
OTHUS.
Doth it not stir thee as it thund'ring growls
Along the distant shore?(Shaking his head.)
It doth not stir thee!
Is that the sound of female voices near us?
MARTHON.
That pale and fearful maid? her watchful ear
Is ever turn'd to ev'ry distant sound.
OTHUS.
I know for whom she fears; nor do I marvel;
For she was present on that crowded shore,
When Genoa's captain brought his generous succour,
And saw the brave contention of those men,
In their proud vessels bearing boldly on,
With wavy pennants floating on the wind,
Whose armed sides, like to a goodly bank,
Breasted the onward tide of opposition.
(Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gesture.)
No wonder that her fancy has been mov'd!
Oh, it did stir the women on our walls—
The infants—yea, the very houshold curs,
That from their kennels turn'd to look upon it!—
But for that motley crowd of moving things
Which we miscall our menNay, by the light,
Thou too dost hear me with a frozen eye!
Enter Ella hastily from the balcony, and puts her hand eagerly upon the shoulder of Othus, who turns round surprised.)
ELLA.
Or on the land, or on some floating fence?
OTHUS.
ELLA.
High as I stood, e'en now, tossing thine arms,
And motioning thy tale with such fit gesture
As image ships and sails, and daring deeds?
Of whom speak even the beggars in our streets
When they such action use? Thou know'st right well,
Of Genoa's captain, and of none but he.
Did'st see him from the walls?
OTHUS (smiling).
Thou looked with a keen and martial eye
As thou dost question me: I saw him not;
I come not from the walls.
ELLA.
OTHUS.
(Pointing to his dress.)
There are more warriors in the world, Ella,
Tho' men do talk of us, it must be granted,
With action more compos'd. Behold me now
The brave Rodrigo's comrade, and the friend
Of royal Constantine; who is in truth
The noblest beast o' the herd, and on the foe
Turns a bold front, whilst with him boldly turn
A few brave antlers from a timid crowd,
That quakes and cowrs behind.
ELLA.
Heaven's angels bless thee!
OTHUS.
ELLA (to Othus, starting fearfully).
Whilst ruin growls so near us! hath sad use
Made misery and sport, and death and merriment,
Familiar neighbours?—I'll into my chamber.
Enter Petronius and a disguised Turk.
PETRONIUS (sternly to Ella).
On the house-top, or watching in the towers.
I like it not; and maiden privacy
MARTHON.
His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace
Are thrown aside, and the soft letter'd sage
Grasps a rude lance.
ELLA.
PETRONIUS (sternly to Ella).
And now, my Lord,(Turning to Othus).
OTHUS (angrily).
I too, belike, shall trespass on your patience,
If longer I remain. (Exit.
PETRONIUS.
But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb
To see him guis'd? He, too, become a fool!
MARTHON.
His brave devoted brotherhood to join:
This was his errand here.
PETRONIUS.
With many fair and princely qualities
That in his clear morn no attention drew,
Now, on the brow of dark adversity,
Hangs like a rainbow on a surly cloud,
And all men look to him. But what avails
This growing sentiment of admiration
To our good means? Good Turk, where is thy gold?
TURK (giving him a bag).
PETRONIUS.
Shall find me still his faithful agent here.
This very night, as I have promis'd to him,
The people shall in insurrection rise,
Clam'ring to have the city yielded up;
And if your narrow caution stint me not
In that which rules the storm, it shall be rais'd
To the full pitch.
TURK.
PETRONIUS.
There is a way to make our timid sluggards
The Sultan's work within these walls perform
Better than armed men.
TURK.
PETRONIUS.
I have in pay, besides our mutinous rabble,
Who bawl, and prate, and murmur in our streets,
Prophets, and conjurers, and vision seers,
And wise men not a few, whose secret haunts
The timid flock to: many are the palms
That must be touch'd.—There are within our walls
Of idle, slothful citizens, enow,
If with their active master they should join,
Still to defend them: therefore, be assur'd,
He who shall keep this fickle, wav'ring herd
From such wise union, shall to Mah'met give
This Mistress of the East.
TURK.
PETRONIUS.
When, from the walls returning with his friends,
The Emperor his ev'ning hour enjoys,
And puts off warlike cares: now let us forth,
And urge those varlets on. (To Marthon.)
Do thou into the eastern quarter go,
And stir them up. Where is our trusty Gorbus?
The western is his province. Send him hither:
We must some counsel hold: meantime within
I wait his coming. Be thou speedy, Marthon.
(Exit Marthon.
Remember, friend.(To the Turk.)
TURK.
PETRONIUS.
SCENE II. A State Apartment in the Imperial Palace, with splendid sideboards set forth, on which are seen cups and goblets, &c. as if prepared for a grand repast, and several domestics crossing the stage, carrying different things in their hands.
Enter Heugho, followed by a Stranger and two inferior domestic Officers.
HEUGHO (after looking over every thing).
And the imperial cup—I see them not.
FIRST OFFICER.
And death and ruin grinning at our side,
To set forth all this sumptuous garniture,
Which soon shall in a Turkish haram shine?
The Emp'ror heeds it not.
HEUGHO (stamping with his foot).
And were the floating remnant of a wreck,
With the sea bellowing round it, all that now
Remain'd of the eastern empire, I thereon,
Until the last wave wash'd us from its side,
Would humbly offer to brave Constantine
The homage due to mine imperial lord.
Out on thee, paltry hind! go fetch them hither.
(Exit Officer.
STRANGER.
Like a tir'd woodman from his daily toil,
Unclasps his girded breast; and with his friends
Enjoys his social meal right cheerfully
For one so overshadow'd with dark fate.
I am a stranger here, and, by your leave,
I fain would tarry still to have one view
Of his most noble countenance.
HEUGHO.
And, gentle stranger, thou wilt see a prince,
Who ably might have reign'd, had not his heart
To the soft shades of friendly intercourse
Still turn'd, as to its true and native place.
A prince with loving friends, but lacking troops:
Rich in the dear good-will of gen'rous minds,
But poor in kingly allies. One thou'lt see,
Whose manly faculties, beset with gifts
Of gentler grace, and soft domestic habits,
And kindliest feelings, have within him grown
Like a young forest-tree, beset and 'tangled,
And almost hid with sweet incumb'ring shrubs;
That, till the rude blast rends this clust'ring robe,
Its goodly hardy stem to the fair light
Discovers not.—Hark! now they come.
(Flourish of trumpets.)
Stand thou secure, and see whate'er thou wilt.
(Calling to some people off the stage.)
Ho! you without! move there with more dispatch.
(Several domestics again cross the stage as before.)
STRANGER.
If right I guess. They bear a noble mien.
And who is he who foremost walks with steps
Of gravely-measur'd length, and heavy eyes
Fix'd on the ground?(Pointing off the stage.)
HEUGHO.
Who doth o' tiptoe walk, with jealous care,
Upon the very point and highest ridge
Of honour's path, demure and circumspect,
Like nicest maid, proud of her spotless fame;
A steady, cheerless friend.
STRANGER.
Who follows next?
HEUGHO.
That Genoese, who, with four gallant ships,
Did in the front of the whole Turkish fleet
So lately force his passage to our port,
Bearing us gen'rous and most needful succour.
Does he not look like one, who in the fight
Would fiercely drive, yet to the humbled foe
Give quarter pleasantly?
STRANGER.
But yet, methinks, keen and intelligent?
HEUGHO.
Who wears his soldier's garb with its first gloss.
STRANGER.
HEUGHO.
Who o'er his mind a greater influence has
Than may, perhaps, with graver wisdom suit,
Being a dame of keen and lofty passions
Tho' with fair virtues grac'd, he ever pays
His dear devotions: he will join them shortly.
But softly, here they are.
Enter Justiniani, Rodrigo, Othus, and many others of the Emperor's friends, armed as if returned from the walls.
RODRIGO (to Justiniani).
Befall'n, thy eager temper to disturb?
JUSTINIANI.
Have been against that Turkish standard sent,
Rear'd in their front.
RODRIGO.
In paying worship to each Turkish rag
That waves before our walls?
But frown not on me, friend: perhaps I'm wrong.
We who are bred upon a bark's rough side,
And midst the rude contention of the waves,
Must force our steady purpose, as we may,
Right in the teeth of all opposing things,
Wrestling with breakers on the scourged rock
Or tilting it with a seal's cub, good faith!
As it may chance, naught do we know of forms.
OTHUS.
With more respect to warlike ceremony
We will conduct ourselves.
Rodrigo well hath pled his own excuse;
And I, thou knowest, am but new in arms.
JUSTINIANI.
That, when so circumstanced
OTHUS.
This is his hour of cheerful relaxation,
Snatch'd from each circling day of busy cares,
A faint gleam thrown across a dismal gloom,
Let us not dark it with our petty brawls.
Enter Constantine.
CONSTANTINE (saluting them).
After our day of toil! There be amongst us
Tir'd limbs that well have earn'd their hour of rest;
This kindly-social hour, this fleeting bliss
Of the tir'd labourer. Undo our bracings,
Mine armourer, methinks, has better skill
To mar men's heads than save them.
How liked thou the gripe of soldiers' geer?
OTHUS.
It feels like the close hug of a rough friend,
Awkward but kindly.
CONSTANTINE.
To've had the gentle service of thy pen.
Thou could'st have told, if so it might have been,
How brave men acted, and how brave men fell,—
Of the throng'd beach, amidst the tempest's rage,
Ev'n on the last plank of your sever'd bark,
Ride it careeringly, my brave Rodrigo!
RODRIGO.
All things we do and bear right cheerfully.
CONSTANTINE.
And yours, and yours, and yours, my brave Eubedes—
And noble Carlos too—and all of you—
(Taking all their hands, one after another.)
I am indeed so mated.
Bring me a cooling cup, I pray, good Heugho,
These cumb'rous forms impose? These surly times
Suit not such ceremony, worthy Heugho.
HEUGHO.
My royal master!
CONSTANTINE (tasting it).
Come with such kindness. But I have, in truth,
Shrunk, as a potentate, to such small grasp,
That now I fairly may put in my claim
To the affections of a man—Brave friends,
Have cause of quarrel in this day's long toil.
JUSTINIANI.
The holy hermit, counting o'er his beads,
Is not more scrupulous than I have been
Naught of his sacred duty to omit.
CONSTANTINE.
Of all thy warlike deeds; for thou from them
Claim'st not the privilege to save thyself
From needless dangers. On the walls this day
Thou hast exposed thyself like a raw stripling,
Who is asham'd to turn one step aside
When the first darts are whizzing past his ear.
Rodrigo there, beneath an ass's pannier
Would save his head from the o'er-passing blow,
Then, like a lion issuing from his den,
Burst from his shelter with redoubled ardour.
Pray thee put greater honour on thyself,
And I will thank thee for it.
JUSTINIANI.
CONSTANTINE.
No tir'd banditti in their nightly cave,
Whose goblets sparkle to the ruddy gleam
Of blazing faggots, eat their jolly meal
With toils, and dangers, and uncertainty
Of what to-morrow brings, more keenly season'd
Than we do ours.—Spare not, I pray thee, Heugho,
Thy gen'rous Tuscan cup: I have good friends
CITIZEN.
CONSTANTINE.
CITIZEN.
From ev'ry street and alley, ragged varlets
In crowds pour forth, and threaten mighty things.
But one, whom I out-run, comes on my steps
To bring a fuller tale.
CONSTANTINE (to Citizen).
CITIZEN.
CONSTANTINE (to Othus).
OTHUS.
That fills your walls. This proud imperial city
Has been in ages past the great high-way
Of nations driving their blind millions on
To death and carnage. Thro' her gates have past
Pale cowled monarchs and red-sworded saints,
Voluptuaries foul, and hard-eyed followers
Of sordid gain—yea all detested things.
She hath a common lake or sludge-pool been,
In which each passing tide has left behind
Some noisome sediment. She is choak'd up
With mud and garbage to the very brim.
Her citizens within her would full quietly
A pagan's slaves become, would he but promise them
The sure continuance of their slothful ease.
Some few restraints upon their wonted habits
And Mah'met's gold, no doubt, have rous'd the fools
To this unwonted stir.
CONSTANTINE.
Meantime, my friends, go ye, and as ye can,
Snatch a short soldier's meal.(They hesitate.)
Nay, go I pray you!
I must not to my friends say "I command."
(They all go immediately, and without any order, standing round the table, begin to eat.)
(To the Citizen, remaining still on the front of the stage.)
Enter another Citizen in great haste.
SECOND CITIZEN.
The very children too—mine eyes have seen it—
In crowds they come
CONSTANTINE.
Distinctly. From what quarter comest thou?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Enter Third Citizen.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Is in commotion; ev'n with flesh-forks arm'd,
And all the implements of glutt'nous sloth,
The people pour along in bawling crowds,
Calling out, "bread," and "Mah'met," and "surrender,"
Towards the royal palace.
CONSTANTINE.
THIRD CITIZEN.
CONSTANTINE.
Friends, by your leave,
I somewhat must upon your goodness bear.
Give me my helmet and my sword again:
RODRIGO.
JUSTINIANI.
On such mean foes: we'll beat them off with sticks.
OTHUS.
When us'd as brave men's arms should ever be,
With skill and boldness. Swords smite single foes,
But thousands by a word are struck at once.
(As they all gather round Constantine, and are ready to follow him, enter Valeria in great alarm, followed by Lucia, and several ladies.)
VALERIA (to Constantine).
CONSTANTINE.
VALERIA.
The dark spires redd'ning in their torches' light,
Whilst, like the hoarse waves of a distant sea,
Their mingled voices swell as they approach.
CONSTANTINE.
I will oppose to them a fixed rock,
Which they may beat against but cannot shake.
VALERIA.
Yea, I am bold! misfortune mocks at state,
And strong affection scorns all reverence;
Therefore, before these lords, ev'n upon thee,
Thou eastern Cæsar, do I boldly lay
My woman's hand, and say, "thou shalt not go."
CONSTANTINE.
Than warrior's iron grasp,
But yet it may not hold me. Strong affection
Makes thee most fearful where no danger is.
Shall eastern Cæsar, like a timid hind
Scar'd from his watch, conceal his cowering head?
And does an empire's dame require it of him?
VALERIA.
I know them not. I by thy side have shar'd
The public gaze, and th' applauding shouts
Of bending crowds: but I have also shar'd
The hour of thy heart's forrow, still and silent,
The hour of thy heart's joy. I have supported
Thine aching head, like the poor wand'rer's wife,
Who, on his seat of turf, beneath heaven's roof,
Rests on his way.—The storm beats fiercely on us:
Our nature suits not with these worldly times,
To it most adverse. Fortune loves us not;
She hath for us no good: do we retain
Her fetters only? No, thou shalt not go!
(Twining her arms round him.)
By that which binds the peasant and the prince,
The warrior and the slave, all that do bear
The form and nature of a man, I stay thee!
Thou shalt not go.
CONSTANTINE.
VALERIA.
Thou lov'st me not.
CONSTANTINE (with emotion, stretching out his hands to his friends, who stand at some distance).
Ye who have to my falling fortunes clung
With gen'rous love, less to redeem their fall
Than on my waning fate by noble deeds
To shed a ray of graceful dignity:
Ye gen'rous and devoted; still with you
I thought to share all dangers: go ye now,
And to the current of this swelling tide
VALERIA (pointing with great energy to the friends who are turning as if to go out).
(Brushing away her tears hastily, and then assuming an air of dignity, she takes Constantine by the hand, and leading him across the stage, presents him to his friends.)
Worthy the graceful honours of your love,
And heaven's protecting angel go with you!
(Exeunt Constantine and his friends, paying obeisance to her as they retire, which she returns with the profoundest respect, continuing to look after them till they are out of sight; then returning to the front of the stage with a deep sigh, remains for some time with her eyes fixed on the ground.)
LUCIA.
The people will their sov'reign lord respect.
VALERIA.
Whose grandsire, tho' a brave and sov'reign prince,
Was piece-meal torn by a ferocious mob?
LUCIA.
Perhaps to move your pity: heed it not.
VALERIA.
The wild contention of these fearful times?
Each day comes bearing on its weight of ills,
With a to-morrow shadow'd at its back
More fearful than itself.A dark progression—
And the dark end of all, what will it be?
LUCIA.
Our noble emperor has on his side
The dark and potent powers.
VALERIA.
LUCIA.
Who sees strange visions rise before his sight
Of things to come, hath solemnly pronounc'd it,
That Paleologus has on his side
The dark and potent powers.
VALERIA.
Who told thee this?
LUCIA.
As did all nat'ral knowledge far exceed.
VALERIA.
As tho' it were upon my mind impress'd
By secret supernatural power. Methinks,
Were this dread night with all its dangers past,
Mingled and terrible, tho' heard afar.
LUCIA.
Whate'er I see?
VALERIA (eagerly).
END OF THE FIRST ACT.