UC-NRLF AINMRVS BOOK FYND Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2007 witin funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.arcliive.org/details/attilamyattilaplOOfielrich Attila, My Attlla! > > S ) I) > ATTILA, MY ATTILA! A PLAY BY MICHAEL FIELD LONDON: ELKIN MATHEWS 1896 ::-t>l:.:-\ Pi AU rights reserved PREFACE Tragedy is the conflict of man with the indifference of nature. For all forces of life sweep on their regene- rating way, and disregard obstruction or break it down ; yet mortals strive presumptuously to withstand this impetus, and to subject it to their own thought and need. Then there is a death-struggle, and the human combatant disappears, sometimes recognising his schism, sometimes unconscious of it to the end. Our interest in each case is due to the very vitality that a man turns against life when he fights it in vain with its own weapon, as Prometheus fought Zeus, as Satan fought Jehovah, as Lear withstood Cordelia, and Hedda Gabler her own motherhood. What indeed is necessity but the unfaltering energy of existence to which even the strongest and most rebellious of living creatures must bow, so that the triumph of life, and not the triumph of death, becomes the proper subject of all tragedy. When, in spite of his overthrow, a sinner repents, and in his contrition worships the power he has with- 481082 PREFACE Stood in its own might, then his tragedy has tonic virtue. If, on the contrary, he remain impenitent and blind, his fate prostrates us with terror : yet since there are such tragedies it is well sometimes to face them, and learn how they came to be so desolate, and why the sorrow in them has no life. Little Honoria, whose yielding " to the impulse of nature" Gibbon chronicles with such sympathy — a sympathy pregnant with the feelings of our age that was to follow — sought to give freedom to her womanhood by unwomanly audacities ; and although the importunate desire to be herself was fair and natural, its perversion was revenged by the blight with which nature curses. To be vitally stirred, yet go blindly on the way of death ; to be urged by nature, and yet outrage her through very obedience is a tragedy of tragedies, and one not remote ; for Honoria is the New Woman of the fifth century : and to any who shall read her story in these pages the author says, as clearly as a certain Pro- logue when it declared — ** This man with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine '* that this play presents Irony. M. F. T87{SO0^S Valentinian III Theodosius II Satyrus eugenius Anthemius Galla Placidia HONORIA Pulcheria Arcadia Marina Athenais Marsa OF THS TL^r Emperor of the West Emperor of the East (An Armenian, Chamberlain to i Galla Placidia I A young Chamberlain of the I Palace, waiting on Honoria I A young Roman of Consular ^ rank ( Empress of the West, Valen- 1 tinian's Mother Valentinian's only Sister (Empress of the East, Theo- \ dosius* eldest Sister I His younger Sisters A Greek Girl under Pulcheria's protection Anthemius' Wife A Priest, Chamberlains, Courtiers, Women, Slaves, Soldiers of the Guard Scene — In Acts I, II and IV, at Ravenna In Act III at Byzantium ACT I ATTILA, MY ATTILA! ACT I Scene — y/ room 0/ state in the palace at Ravenna^ open'- ing through a colonnade on to a terrace with a distant view of the harbour. EuGENlUS is walking up and down the terrace : he stops under the boughs of a pomegranate and picks up a bracelet from the ground. In the room itself slaves^ some fair Goths^ some Africans^ are spreading carpets^ putting up hangings^ and wreathing the columns, Satyrus enters with more slaves^ who are bringing in tri- pods; he points out where they are to place them^ then fixes his eyes on Eugenius, Satyrus The dog, 1 loathe him t — fingering some toy He means to give the princess. Insolence For him to note her birthday ! {Going up to Eugenius) Chamberiain, Some gift you would present ? Atti/a, My Atilla ! Eugenius That's my affair. Satyrus Indeed ! But you mistake : nothing that touches My princess. . . . Eugenins Mine — Honoria. Satyrus I say nothing Touching the honour of my Empress' daughter Has ever been indifferent to me. Eugenius {Shrugging his shoulders) She has her pre- ferences, and does not choose Her mother's chamberlain for confidant. Satyrus {To a Gothic lad) Slave, there must be fresh garlands ; wreathe those pillars. {In the same voice to Eugenius) Give me that bracelet ! Eugenius Shall we come to blows ! You fool, you think I do not know my place ! This is the princess' bracelet ; I am waiting To give it back to her : that privilege Surely belongs to me, her chamberlain. I must reprove her for her carelessness In leaving it about. {He holds it up provokingly before Satyrus) Satyrus {Sharply) You know the news ? Eugenius Why naturally there is nothing you Can tell me, holding office similar To mine, except some tattle of the court. Satyrus I beg your pardon, I am higher up The scale than you — Placidia's officer, Attiby My Attila! And able therefore to announce her pleasure To you as to the court. [Close to him and speaking so that the slaves do not hear) Our pretty princess To-day is made Augusta. Eugenius What a farce ! Satyrus Her mother is in earnest, and commands The servants to remember that this title Removes the princess from all intimate Connection with them. Do not use reproof. Why, you have dropped the bangle. (He moves down the room) Fritigern — Now Pluto catch you, rascal ! [He buffets a slave-boy who has knocked over a tripod) Eugenius Were she dead I should be nearer to her ! Satyrus [Coming up to him again) Chamberlain, I must instruct you : absolute prostration. You know, before Augusta. Eugenius [Between his teeth) Damn your eyes ! Satyrus You never must address her ; but in silence. And with your lids kept on the ground . . . [Enter Honoria, dressed very simply in white; Eugenius looks up at her with a fiash of admiration) Honoria Dear hearts. How grave you look, some point of etiquette 5 Attila, My Attila ! Knitting your brows ! On whom will you confer The place of honour at my feast to-night ? Meanwhile I am sixteen. Satyrus And such a beauty, Venus is doubtless pouting. [To Eugenius) Chamberlain, Our blessed princess should have kept her room Till summoned by her mother to receive The state's congratulations on her birthday. Honor ia But no one greeted me. I sat alone So long ; and then I heard the slaves at work Unrolling the big tapestries — the bustle Of steps attracted me, and here I am ! Now set me on that throne and talk to me. Eugenius, help ! Satyrus [Pushing htm back) Eugenius must attend To these instructions. [He holds out a roll of parchment, Eugenius impa- tiently takes and reads it as he goes out. One by one the slaves leave^ having finished their pre- parations) You must be content, My sweet chick of an empress, with my homage. Just for the present ; more will follow soon — The perfect homage of the stiffened back And lowered eye and more than stiffened tongue. Honoria O Satyrus, but that is very sad : I hate formalities so much — the banquet. The stupid faces, all those serious men. AttUa, My Attila ! Who might cheer death a little if his guests, But do not interest me. How sweet a silk They have hung up to canopy that chair 1 Satyr us Your chair. Honoria Then I am glad I am sixteen. Satyr us But hear my counsel : you must be demure Now you are growing older. Honoria How delicious When growing older means that every day One is a little nearer to one's youth ; A little nearer — oh, I can be solemn ! — A little nearer to the grave, but then What grave ? The grave of one*s own wretched child- hood. With all the pedagogues and punishments That make it hateful. Who would be a child ? The only honest thing that children do Is to cry out with rage when they are whipt ; They never wander where they have a mind. They never eat or drink what they are fond of, And they are always hearing of their faults. It is so doleful. Satyrus, what right Had you to send Eugenius away ? He is my chamberlain. Satyrus {Not heeding) Princess, your mother Is planning for you on this festival An unexpected pleasure. Attiluy My Attila ! Honoria Scarcely that — No pleasure that a parent plans can be An unexpected pleasure, for one knows So well beforehand what they think will please : A solid benefit, an empty honour. More purses in the treasury, but nothing. Nothing to spend to-day the way we like. And then my mother is so dismal. Satyrus [In an alarmed whisper) Hush, She enters with her train. (Gall A Placidia advances^ escorted by several mutes and other attendants, Honoria receives her mother with the deepest reverence^ remaining prostrate till she is on the throne) Placidia But how is this. That you are here, unsummoned ? Satyrus — And on this day ! It is a grave offence. Honoria Mother, it was no fault of his. Placidia [To Satyrus) Dismissal Will follow on a second breach of rule. An eunuch, and not versed in etiquette — What else is there to interest you ? Satyrus So much ! Empress, your sorrows and your cares. Placidia Well said ! I was unjust. Honoria, you are weeping, And why, you foolish girl ? Honoria It is my birthday, 8 Attila, My Attila! And, mother, I am waiting for a kiss. Placidia {To Satyr us and the others) Withdraw a little ! {They go into the corridors at the side of the room and Satyrus waits by the door of the audience-chamber to the right) Now embrace me, child ! Honor ia I cannot. I should wet your robes with tears. Let me go back into my room again ; I have displeased you. Placidia Do not be so headstrong ! Come here, Honoria ; you are now sixteen, And I must talk with you. Honoria No, do not, mother I But there is something that I really want To talk with you about, if you will listen , . . ( Twisting h er fingers) For just a little while. I am too frightened To speak of it to Marsa. Placidia Well, what is it ? Honoria I cannot even tell you . . . I am happy. Yet so intensely wretched. Is it wrong To feel like this ? Placidia Quite proper to reserve This confidence for me. Honoria {In a loWy eager voice) Then tell me all 1 It seems some god that I am worshipping. And do not know his name. Night after night I have been like Europa on the sea Attihy My Attila ! In spray and storm and utter loneliness, Save for the sense that I was borne along Riding in perfect safety — and the peril Was so delicious, for I steered my course Right through the waves. Mother, in every dream It was the same. Placidia What pagan fancies — hush ! Your nurse must be reproved for telling tales Like this one of E uropa. I can see You have been too much with inferiors — They are not to be trusted. From to-day You will be my companion. Honoria [In a high voice) Everywhere ? Placidia Child, do not shriek like that — ^your father's habit. But very vulgar. Honoria [Irritably) If he did not please you. Why did you choose my father ? Placidia You suppose That in my second marriage I had choice ? My childless brother gave me to Constantius, His Roman general — and I have lived As women must to please my family. Honoria And not to please yourself ? Yet nurse declares When you were taken prisoner by the Goths In girlhood, you had lovers — two at once. I want to be a captive and have lovers. Two at a time, and freely choose at last 10 Attiky My Attila I The great, barbaric fellow as you chose. Adolphus was a hero ! Placidia He was king Before I would consent to marry him. King of the Goths . . . and yet I will not feign, I loved him, loved him dearly. Honor ia {Caressing her mother) I forgive Your coldness to my father. Placidia [Smiling^ as she returns Honoria^s caress) A romance Holds you at once ! But did you hear the end ? I would not speak of it except to save My daughter from the folly of desiring A captive's miseries. My hero fell At Barcelona by a traitor's hands ; I was once more a prisoner, but this time I was not wooed or flattered, I was set To march on foot twelve miles before the horse Of the assassin. All you know of me Dates from that day. Honor ia {More passionately caressing her) O mother, this is cruel, And I so pity you . . . Placidia {Holding Honoria's hand and looking out fixedly) I had a son By that first marriage. I have let the past Be past ; but in his little, silver coffin My life is buried. Do not speak to mc, II Attilay My Attila ! But keep my hands, I like to feel your fingers — How soft ! You see, there must not be romance, Child, in your life. Honoria I do not see it so. Placidia I want to save you from how many things That I have borne, that I would rather die Than bear again. Honoria But let me bear them once ! Placidia I would prolong your youth and . . . {Enter Valentinian) Honoria Valentinian, Stolen from his tutor ! Why, how sweet of him ! Placidia But very premature. Congratulations Must not be offered yet. Honoria Brother and sister Must have one kiss. {She embraces him) Placidia {To Honoria) There is a great surprise In preparation for you ; such an honour As you are scarcely fitted to receive — At least in this poor raiment — that you could not Have dreamed, it is so wonderful. Honoria {Shaking her head) Oh, nothing Can be more wonderful than what I dream. Val, are you in the secret ? Valentinian In the plot — Whew ! I could tell you . . . Placidia {Angrily) Valentinian ! 12 Attila, My Attila I {In a peremptory tone to Honoria) Dress ! Marsa has full instructions. Keep your room Until I summon you. Honoria ( Going) What can it be ? [She leaves the room^ Satyrus lifting the curtain for her to pass) Placidia Now, Valentinian, you must understand The meaning of my action of to-day, And not defeat it foolishly. I live. As you must, for the glory of our house. The Theodosian House : Honoria too Must live for it. Think of the great example Her cousin gives her in Byzantium ! Pulcheria, the Augusta, keeps herself A virgin that her brother may continue Sole emperor in the East, as in the West It is my will you should be sole Augustus. A son-in-law shall never share your throne ; Yet no one less than emperor may espouse The daughter of our sacred family. Valentinian A proud distinction ! Placidia She must think it is. And will, if you are wise. [To Satyrus^ who approaches at a sign from his mistress) O Satyrus, Is she not looking pretty ? All my life I have been planning how to give her pleasure ; But she is like her father. When I stooped 13 Attila, My Attila ! To give Constantius the imperial title He held it sixteen months, and all that time . . . Satyrus Yes, madam, he kept falling off to sleep, And lost in flesh. . . Plactdia [To Valentinian^ who is slinking off) No, Valentinian, stay, It will be well for you to hear the story. To know your father's miserable end. And learn what to avoid. Satyrus Young gentleman, Back to your place — a little to the right. Your father was a soldier, and was fond Of drink, and dice, and swearing : in the purple He found that he had nothing left to do. And simply died. [Earnestly^ as he turns to Placidia) Madam, if I may speak. Our little princess is as fresh and hearty As [Bowing) your late consort ; if we cut her off From every pleasure, we shall lose her too. Valentinian Why should you trouble, mother, with the girl ? I will take care she does not spoil my life. Placidia I would not have her wed, even for love, If that were possible. Satyrus Indeed, what future Would you determine for her ? Placidia None at all ; Attila, My Attila ! Comfort is never with futurity. Oh, you are far too solemn, all of you. I want light-hearted children. . . . Nothing deep, No prying into mysteries ! The young Should let us take the tragic parts in life. Us who are older. {Turning severally to Valentinian^ Satyrus^ and Eugenius^ who has entered and stands a little apart) If you all combine To show Honoria how blest she is In being made Augusta we are safe. Valentinian But she will learn the truth. Placidia Concerning life A woman will believe what she is told. If she is told it soon enough. Satyrus Oh then, Since there's no help, we all will do her honour. Poor, little princess, to her heart's content. Falentinian I'll say I wish I had been born a girl. What sport ! Placidia (To Eugenius) Eugenius, you have had in- structions ? Though you are young, you will retain your office j You are correct in conduct, and your manners Formal and full of deference. There will be But little need of change in your behaviour Towards the Augusta. Simply emphasise Her distance from all ordinary life ; 15 Attilay My Attila ! Treat her with adoration, we may hope She will become a goddess. Summon her. [Exit Eugenius) Good Satyr us, why do you look so grim ? Satyrus Because that fellow has your confidence, And can deceive you with his smirks and bows. If I were in his place — Placidia [Smiling) You would do harm, And make my child a rebel. No contention ! You must support me at this crisis. See, [Re-enter Honoria with Eugenius^ Marsa^ and a train of girls) There is a stormy pout upon her lip. Her father's pout. Satyrus They enter like two lovers ; He takes her hand. Placidia She is not keeping step, That is the reason ; now he gives the form Of salutation. Satyrus Whispering in her ear ! [Honoria breakj away from Eugenius^ and stands^ forward proudly) Honoria But, dear ones, I have seen you all before : I can do nothing for a second time ; And now I have put on my birthday-dress My thoughts are of myself. What can you say Or do to please me, and, above all things. What is this wonderful, mysterious gift ? i6 Attila, My Attila ! Placidia I like your carriage. Daughter, ask yourself What best would minister to your ambition, Being the grand-child of so great an emperor As Theodosius. What ? Honoria To have my will Like him. Placidia What is your will ? Honoria I cannot say, It stretches out so far. Placidia Youth has no answer To any question : therefore Destiny Summons with beckoning finger and no speech. She summoned Theodosius from his exile Among the sheep at Cauca, and to-day She beckons you, his grand-child, to become A crowned Augusta. Honoria This is wonderful : {^Lookjng rapidly at the circle) And should be joyous, but you all have faces As after tidings of some great defeat. Satyrus It is the shock of putting on new manners — We must not treat you as a little puss Her very slaves are free to banter with, But . . . Honoria What ? You cannot change me in a minute. And I must have some fun ! Placidia You are an empress. Honoria But while you live— and there is Valentinian ; 17 c Attilay My Attila I I cannot understand. {Valentinian laughs) Placidia You will be free From all the cares of state, free to enjoy Your dignities. Honor i a But what am I to do ? Placidia The question of a slave ! Still less to do The higher up one reaches, and at last, On the throne, nothing. Satyrus That is perfect bliss* Honoria Nothing to do ! Placidia But so much to observe. You will be present when ambassadors Return, and smile at them when they depart : You will accept rich gifts and will be envied— ' That is a woman's goal — be envied, dear, By other women. Honoria While I envy them. Unless you all are jesting. Valentinian FU begin To show we are in earnest. {Kneeling) Sacred one, I swear to treat you as divinity Whatever you command. Honoria O Valentinian, Dear boy, you must not mock me. It is cruel To-day when I am serious. (Petulantly) I refuse i8 Attiby My Attila! To be Augusta. Valentinian {Nodding to Placidia) As I told you, mother. {To Honor ia) But this has all been settled by the state Without your intervention : women's business Has to be settled so. Honoria {Flashing out) I would not marry An emperor at your bidding. Valentinian {Clapping his hands) Excellent. O you green girl, you think I want a fellow To share my throne ! Why, you are made Augusta To keep you always inaccessible To any suitor — general, count, or king ; Not one of them shall plague you — me^ I mean. Placidia Hush, Valentinian, when a girl becomes A woman, it is usual for her mother To speak to her of life. Honoria {Passionately) Then you must tell me What Valentinian meant. Placidia Not here ... in private. Honoria He said you only call me by this title To keep away my suitors. Is it so ? Was that his meaning ? Valentinian {Doggedly) Yes. Placidia Be dutiful, And hold your peace. Honoria He can be silent now. But am I not to love ? Placidia You are appointed 19 C — 2, Attila, My Attila To be the very guardian of the West, \ As saintly and in conduct as austere i As . . . \ Honoria You ? I never could resemble you, i Not if I wished. ; Placidta No, as Pulcheria, child, Your cousin in the East. j Honoria {With terrified eyes) But she's a nun. j Placidia There you mistake : she simply does not marry \ Because in all the w^orld there is no suitor ; Whom she could wed without humiliation i Or weakening of the empire. \ Honoria All the same — ; Valentinian She is a virgin. Honoria Do you think she wishes j Not to be married ? ! Placidia She was made Augusta I At the same age as you, and ever since I Has kept her maiden-vow. . . Honoria She felt like that. I do not ! I would rather drop down dead " ^ Than live on like my cousin. (With a gesture of despairing appeal) Mother, you — ■ This cannot be your doom ! There is no way \ Of blessing any human life except j One bless it at the source. You poison mine ! I should have been content with very little, A birthday kiss, and then, had you been kind — ' 20 1 Attila, My Attila ! \ But you are making winter now forever, With just a word, betwixt us. From my heart i So much is gone already of the love i That was kept waiting for you. Bring it back 5 ; Remove this curse from me ! ; Placidia Child, it is wisdom j To bear what fate appoints. ; Honoria (Drawing hack with a stunned^ uncertain movement^ and leaning on the arm of Eugenius) i If it were fate \ It would be easy to endure her tortures : 1 This misery is something that you choose \ To settle on me. It is fate to love, : You cannot alter that — fate to be young \ For just a little while. What is your hope ? You cannot change my nature with the burthen Of your mock title. Placidia If I married you, You could not say you would not be a wife : You are Augusta — there is no dispute. 1 I bore you for the purple, I provide All that your blood requires ; and presently — j I can be patient — I shall see you grow Reserved and haughty and so beautiful j Knowing you are a goddess ; on the coins j You will be graven, and your name inscribed i As Salus Reipublica, Respond j To the great future I have wrought for you, j 21 \ Attilay My Attila ! And let me pass down to my grave content. Honoria (Loosing her grasp of Eugenius and advancing toward her mother) So this is your proposal : I become The simple consolation of your age By having no experience of my own, No life unlinked from the starved end of yours. No dreams I dream until they come to pass, No taste of what I covet, no response ! But what must be must be : the old shall learn The terror of that maxim. What must be Must be^ if youth decrees it. You may order My name graved on the coins and make your idol Of any clay that mixes. . . . Placidia In three hours You will receive the formal recognition Of your new honour. (She turns to go^ then says to Satyrus^ who is hurriedly lifting the curtain at the door) Gently, Satyrus, The girl must be rebuked. [To Honoria) When you are old You will not waste your time in prophecy ; You will be in possession of events. And silently dispose them to your will. (Exit with Valentinian^ Satyrus^ and train, Honoria^ with a wave of her hand^ dismisses her women. 7hen^ turning to Marsa^ puts her arms round her neck) 22 Attila, My Attila ! Honoria O Marsa, I have had one birthday-gift ; But have you nothing for me, nothing real ? I am not changed, but you are not yourselves. I think that I shall die or else go mad If you desert me, and become my servants. Can you not speak to me ? Marsa We all, dear princess, Have gifts ; their presentation is reserved. Honoria Why then, no thanks at all. (Eugenius goes out quietly) There is a question — But first, you are my friend ? Marsa You doubt it, dear ? Honoria Then tell me, Marsa, you who are a wife, What is it I am missing ? Marsa Oh, I cannot ! There is no modesty in such discourse, And Juno shuts our lips. Honoria {Turning away) Then we are strangers, The girl and wife, and never can be friends— ( In a frenzied voice) Unless, indeed, some mighty con- queror Should take me captive. Ah, how glorious If such a thing could be I If Attila Could lay siege to Ravenna ! Marsa Are you mad ? Honoria {Continuing) And bear me off and take me to the tents, 23 Attila^ My Attila ! The filthy tents your husband shudders at. I should not be afraid. Marsa You do not know What you are talking of. Honoria ( With a defiant smile) But I can guess. There would not be a wedding and a mother, But the free air and the great Tartar Chief. We should make terms ! I should be capable. But, as you say, it is too wild a hope — Ravenna is impregnable. Marsa ( With pity) Dear princess ' [Eugenius has been standing by the door with a bunch of fresh roses in his hand. Honoria at last perceives him) Honoria What have you there, Eugenius ? Eugenius {Kneeling) Very humbly I pray for leave to offer you these roses As my poor present. [Raising his eyes) Lady, all the years You live will be most happy to the subjects You love or stoop to honour : to yourself May they be sweet ! ( She lifts a branch and smells the roses^ smiling at Eugenius) Honoria That is a wish — your roses Are sweet now, as you offer them, how sweet ! Why, they are all I have. I never held them Loose in my hands like this : I touched them enly 24 Attiluy My Attila ! When I was drinking, or in wreaths or crowns As the Augusta should. But I can pluck them, Can blow the stiff buds open if I choose, And crush them in my fingers. Marsa Chamberlain, It is not kind of you to bring your gift — And out of form as well. Eugenius But for the future, Trust me, good Marsa, I shall serve my mistress As one some day to mingle with the gods. When once she takes upon her the new state For which we are preparing. I must go — (To Honor ia) But first your pardon. Honoria I am fond of flowers. [He goes quickly into the ante-room. Honoria plays with thejiowers in silence) Marsa ( 'Breaking the silence) If I could see you mar- ried — by and by ; Say to some subject king. Honoria A subject king My husband — then ? Marsa Oh, you would understand If you were married. Honoria To some subject king? Marsa Yes, even then, for you would be a bride. Honoria And is that everything ? Marsa I think it is. Honoria Ah, now you tell me all I need to know ! 25 Attila, My Attila ! Marsa And when at last the hope of motherhood . . Honor ia Hush, you are right ! We cannot speak of this — You are so far beyond me. Kiss me, Marsa ! Again, again ! (7hey kiss) Now leave me to myself. {Exit Marsa) { Honor ia holds the roses high up above her) A young man's gift ! He gave them with his eyes As well as with his hands : their odour pierces ; They shine with youth and water-drops and silver ; Their flush goes through me. If there were no need To learn the secrets of my womanhood From matrons and from mothers ; if this way The roses take to open to the sun And to enjoy were right ! I am beginning To think all life is simple and we want No masters in it, if we will but live. Only the courage seems impiety For just a girl to dare to be herself. The dear, old gods were great enough to know All that we have to give, all that we suffer : I wish that I had lived in pagan times ! But even now will not youth answer youth ? This is so bold a course that I should like To pray before I go on it : yet all The Church has taught me seems to slip away. (She goes towards the ante-room and calls) Eugenius ! 26 Attila, My Attila ! Eugenius (Sweeping the curtain bacl^as he runs forward) What, the voice of my most dear, My most adored, young mistress ! Honoria Most adored — How ? In what way ? Eugenius Sweet lady, I am come Fresh from your mother and she teaches me That henceforth I must serve you with the honour We give to what is infinitely high, Apart and sovereign. Honoria Ah, and not the honour You give to any woman whom you love ? Eugenius Princess, not that : we love and would attain ; When we adore it is impossible To hunger for possession. Honoria (Turning and looking out ffuer the terrace) There is nothing In all that sunny earth that is adored ; Each thing is loved. Oh, I am envious ! They treat me as a part of yonder world Where God and all His saints are overhead ; While really I am just a maiden-girl Who would be loved, who would not be left out By April, who . . . [She suddenly kisses him) Eugenius [Repulsing her) Is this your majesty ? I will not bear your tortures ! If I do My part, do yours : be distant and official. 27 Attila^ My Attila ! Honoria Oh, this is terrible ! Is Love a Count Of the Domestics, some great personage High in esteem ? I am so ignorant, I thought Love was a god. Eugenius You are not such A child but you can put men on the rack, Bring them to banishment and . . . Honoria {TVith defiant eagerness) Was Evander Sent to the Chersonese because of me ? Eugenius How your eyes sparkle ! Yes, because you plagued him, And kept him at your heels, he had to go. And, my fair mistress, there are other men — Honoria So many ! Eugenius You cajole. Honoria {Tossing her head) Whom I admire. Eugenius I know — that beast Metellus ? Honoria Yes. Eugenins And then Julian and Sextus, either at a pinch. Honoria Yes, you are right. Eugenius And the ambassadors. Honoria Oh, they amuse me. Eugenius But you love that fool. Your brother's friend, young Paulus. Honoria [Taking up Eugenius* roses ^ smelling them^ and looking at him from just above the bunch) Do you think 28 Attilay My Attila ! Young Paulus loves me ? Has he ever said ? Now, dear Eugenius, tell me ? Eugenius He has said He would not have you for Rome's richest province. Honoria (Tossing the roses away) How hateful of him 1 But Evander perhaps Was of a different mood ? Eugenius Yes, he adored you ; I know it as a fact you broke his heart. Honoria And he is in the Chersonese — how sad ! And yet I envy him. It must be gloomy On those wild shores ; but, if he really loves, The time will pass by quickly. Happy thought ! I am Augusta — he shall be recalled. Eugenius {In vibrating tones) Is that worth while ? Honoria (Haughtily) Yes, for so great a gift. Eugenius You love him then ? Honoria I cannot tell before ! It brings a burning rapture to my body To think of him. Eugenius [Violently clasping her in his arms) Then I will take his place. These are an exile's kisses, these and these ! That fellow at the Euxine — I have stood In banishment beside you every day, A madness in my heart to spread this fire Across your cheeks, your breast, to hold your lips Thus helpless to my pleasure. 29 Attilay My Attila ! [Laughing) I will have A more voluptuous memory to soothe My exile than that wretched courtier. Now kiss me ! Honoria {Drawing back) Do you boast ? Eugenius A little while To dream I am your equal, that this hair Is mine, and I may push it from your neck All back and then — Honoria [Restraining him by a caress) Your hair is bright enough. Much like Apollo's. [Setting herself free) Do not speak so fiercely, Or dream of boasting, for that wounds me. What I You can be thinking of another hour When you will brag of this one ! Do not touch me As if without my leave. Eugenius [Bitterly) Oh, I expected That this would follow : you would recollect I am your chamberlain. Honoria And not my lover ! Oh then, begone ! That I should ever kiss my chamberlain, I, the Augusta ! I must die of shame. [She turns away angrily as she hears his derisive laugh. There is absolute silence : then he gives a shivering moan. She turns bac\ and speaks in a changed voice) 30 Attila, My Attila ! Eugenius, when you heard the flutes last night I sat and watched you. It was wonderful How all the primness passed out of your face : What were you thinking of ? Eugenius Oh, not the flutes ! Honoria, sweet, you madden me. Honoria Again That soft, large freedom fills your eyes. Forget All but the music. {Laying her hand on his arm) You have learnt my name. {They embrace) 31 ACT II Attila, My Attila I ACT II Scene— The same as Jet I. Some months later. HoNORiA is sitting on the raised seat, her hands clasped round the bacf^ of her head. She seems to be in reverie and smiles to herself. The curtain on the left is drawn aside ; EuGENlus enters and approaches her. Eugenius Augusta, the ambassador desires An audience, if your leisure , . . Honoria You would say Anthemius is starting — bring him in, You foolish boy, and do not look so formal, Eugenius But, dearest, be discreet. Honoria {Clouding) Behind my chair, I shall forget your presence. Eugenius opens the curtain and admits Anthemius and Marsa ; then, having introduced them, he leans against the wall behind Honorid's seat, lookjng sullen and anxious) Marsa too ! 35 D— 2 Attila, My Attila I Marsa Lady, my husband comes to say farewell. Honoria Again, and very soon. {To Anthemius) You must be sorry To leave your new^-born child. Anthemius My little daughter ! Yes, but I leave her w^ith the dearest guardian Whom I regret still more. Honoria I understand. It must be hard to part \ but, darling Marsa, You need not look so sad, an embassy Does not mean bloodshed. Marsa It may mean detention Among the Scythian w^aggons. Honoria Oh, w^hat fun, And vv^hat adventure ! How I love to hear Of the black hordes. {Turning sharply round to Eugenius) You know, Eugenius, They bellow like wild beasts, their countless drums Keep echo ringing, and their cavalry . . . Eugenius Faugh, princess, these are scarcely fairy- tales For an imperial ear. Honoria {Haughtily) Oh, you think that ! We like strong contrasts, and it interests us To hear about the bowl of ivy-wood Our hero drinks from, and his simple fare. Marsa Princess, of flesh — raw flesh. Anthemius Or cooked between 36 Attila, My Attila ! The thigh and saddle. Eugenius An imperial taste Calls that simplicity ! Honoria A chamberlain Is not the fitting censurer of kings. Eugenius You think the gulf between too deep ? Honoria I do. Shall we in silken chambers judge a captain Who never leaves his saddle, rides and rides From Caucasus to the Armorian Field. It is so ignorant. Eugenius And wonderful A lady cares to champion a wretch Who never changes anything he wears Until it drops away, who eats his meat As jackals do, whose face is horrible. Honoria Eugenius, peace ! Our envoy owns the Hun, When mounted on his wiry steed, a presence To pause before, admiring. If we dared. If we had courage to encounter him. What battles would be waged, for he is great And free as a wood-centaur. Anthemius Shall I take him, Augusta, your defiance ? Honoria {Laughing) No, my faith He is not what the soldiers he inspires With such base terror paint him. Say, Augusta Counts him a hero and a hunter-devil, 37 Attildy My Attila And laughs at his adventures. Anthemius I must go. Marsa (^Advancing to embrace him) Farewell. Anthemius Oh, you will come a little further ? Marsa [Shal^ing her head and glancing toward Eugenius) My place is with the princess. Honor i a Marsa, go ! We must not leave the fathers of our children. Not till we must. Go with him to the cradle. Then with him to the door, and, if you will. Take him aboard, and watch the vessel out From the long wharf at Classis. It is calm, Yet breezy too — a most delicious day. Anthemius And you a goddess. Vale ! {Exeunt Anthemius and Marsa, Eugenius lets the curtain fall behind them and comes back quickly to Honor ia) Honoria I, a goddess ! No, but at last a woman, very woman. With not a touch of miracle about me. Except, except ... for surely you can guess Why I am kind to Marsa ? O dear love. And you too will not be what you have been. Mere man, you too will have another name. You too — Eugenius My God, I feared that this would come f {He turns away) Honoria What ! You can stand and look out at the sea 38 Attila, My Attila! As if that flying sail were of account, When I have breathed my secret in your ear. And promised you such honour ? Eugenius [Facing her coldly) Honour I — Death. Honoria Impossible ! But can you think of that Now ? Why, Eugenius, I have heard that mothers Die very often when their babes are born. What if they do ! I never had a fear, Nor any of my people ; we are all Free-born, accustomed to vicissitude. And take a change of fortune as the changes Of wind or weather : you must be the same. Eugenius Why should I ? You have always treated me As an inferior ; you will treat my child. Out of your pride, as an inferior too. You love me ! — but I never shall forget The different voice with which you speak to counts And generals, the way you let me feel I stand behind them, and your little laugh When I draw back: these things have injured me Like drops of burning oil upon my skin One after one — what hell ! And I have nothing To put against them but a single hour Of mastery you gave in ignorance. In wantonness, and then . . . Honoria You must be mad ! Oh, you have disappointed me — the names 39 Attila, My Attila! That you have given to this love of mine, Simply because it was conferred on you ! You called it an intrigue. Eugenius And so it is. Honoria You said you should regret it. Eugenius {With a despairing gesture) Well, I do. Honoria Oh why ? I am Augusta, at my will Able to give protection. For a time My mother may be angry ; but she loved All of herself, like me, when she was young ; And then my father was not of her rank. We shall be wedded ; you will be received Augustus here, and someday in the East : For very shortly I shall take your hand. And say that you are mine, and claim the future. Eugenius O damn the future ! Do you call this love ? Why thrust me forward ? I am not your bridegroom, I never can be ; leave me out of count. If you regard my safety. Tell your mother Of your condition, but of nothing else. And she will see you through, (i/*? turns to leave her) Honoria You cast me off ? That will be very lonely. Eugenius [Returning) If you take it Like that, and if it costs you anything To know we shall be severed all our lives . . . But you have made me play with life and death 40 Attildy My Atilla I As with the rattling dice-box. Honoria If I thought. Dear love, that any harm could come to you . . . Eugenius Oh, you are such a child ! But there is nothing That you can do can alter my delight In you, in every motion, every glance. The way you turn your head, your very anger. [He caresses her) Honoria {Returning his caress) Then put away your fears, for I am certain, As if a god had sworn it, you are safe. Come, be yourself again, just what you were That April day. Eugenius Ah, would it might be so — You just the same ! Honoria [Angrily) It is a sacrilege To wish that, and an insult. I am sorry You give my news no welcome, but it matters Less than I could have thought. (As if addressing a Servant) See that my couch Has warmer wraps upon it, for I like To lie out in the sunshine. I am going To peep at Marsa's baby, and to nurse it If it is crying for her. [She goes toward the door^ glances back at Eugenius^ breaks into laughter^ and returns to him) Do not look 41 Attila, My Attila ! So wretched ! Oh these men, how strange they are ! How brief and poor their happiness, while ours Grows with us, like a summer, night and day. And day and night. {^8he kisses him while Satyrus draws back the curtains of the door^ unperceived) There, I forgive you freely. Eugenius Hush ! Some one comes. [He leaves her and stands at a distance^ looking out toward the harbour^ indifferently. Enter Satyrus) Honoria [Turning) You want me, Satyrus? A message from my mother ? Satyrus No, Augusta. I want your chamberlain. Honoria And there he is. Watching Anthemius' vessel. But this scowl . . . I am quite glad I am not the offender. You are the only person in the world It grieves me to offend. Satyrus Dear, little lady. As you the only one I cannot thwart. Honoria I know ; we spoil each other. I believe You rather would connive at anything Than own your little princess in a fault. Now would you not ? You are so much my friend. Satyrus As faithful as the dust is to your feet, For only you yourself can shake me off. 42 Attila, My Attila I Where are your women ? Honoria Marsa is away ; I sent her with her husband. Satyrus Pooh ! Your service Should be her first concern. Honoria But I dismissed her. Satyrus As I dismiss you to Eurynome, Your nurse, you little scapegrace ! You will bring us Poor fellows to the headsman. Bid her call The retinue your mother has appointed To wait on you, the mutes and all the slaves — The women-%\2i\t%^ remember ! Now be good. [Exit Honoria^ playfully half thrust through the door by Satyrus^ who walks up^ as soon as she is gone^ to Eugenius) Eugenius What do you want ? Satyrus I am a messenger. Eugenius Well, I am quite attentive. Satyrus Very so — But soon you will be, for the Empress sends To bid you wait her coming in this room ; And I am not to leave you. Eugenius ( Shortly) This is strange. Satyrus I thought it strange, but I obey her will. I thought it strange she ordered me to watch The princess and report how she preserved Her dignity ; but listen, chamberlain, I do not any longer think it strange. 43 Attila, My Attila ! Eugenius Why ? Satyrus I have seen her stoop. Eugenius What have you seen ? Satyrus She kissed you, dog ! Eugenius She did not. Satyrus Yes, she did. I saw^ her from the passage. Have you thought Hovs^ even a kiss could ruin her ? Eugenius Indeed You would be less than man if you should tell Ofmy— Satyrus O leave your infamy alone ! I know your secret : women do not kiss Like that a stranger to their arms. You tremble ; Yes, and your handsome blood has left your face. You look but half a man, or scarcely one At all — though you have stained her. Eugenius It is false. Satyrus I do not need your lies to make me sure : By those white lips it is too evident I speak the truth. Eugenius Betray what you have seen ; That's all you can betray : but I am lost With that ... the Empress is so terrible. Satyrus If you are lost, then you will lose yourself 5 I shall not harm you by a single word. Eugenius You will not ? Satyrus No ... or rather by my silence 44 Attila, My Attila ! I shall protect Augusta. As for you, I should be glad to march you to the gate, And hand you to an executioner. The Empress has not told me why she wishes To speak with you, but from her face I judge She comes about this business. Keep your wits. And listen ! She will try to find the man — But must not find him ; it would wound to death The honour of Augusta : if a child Is born, much better it be fatherless Than fethered on a servant. Let opinion Give it to some great Count — you understand ? Eugenius Yes. When the Empress questions — Satyrus You deny ; I simply hold my tongue. Ah, here she comes. (Enter Galla Placidia) Placidia Eugenius ! Eugenius Madam ? Placidia I am here to spealc On a most solemn matter, delicate. Concerning the imperial honour, deeply Touching my own . . . for I have heard report The princess is with child. Her nurse believes The scandal j I have watched her constantly, And I am almost sure it is not false. What do you think ? You are her chamberlain j Have you the least ground for believing it ? Answer ! 45 Attilay My Attila ! Eugentus {In a low voice) I have not. Placidia Have you, Satyrus ? By my command you watched her. Satyrus No, I have not. She often talked and jested first with this And then with that great noble. She is free, And showers her' smiles and graceful, little questions On all her courtiers. Placidia You adhere to this ? Satyrus I do. I cannot fix on any one She seemed to favour most. Placidia {To Eugenius) And you, it seems, Suspected nothing ? You are rather backward, I fancy, in your protest. Eugenius I am ? — No. Placidia Well, Satyrus, Eugenius, I have vowed By every means to search this treason out. By every means; I will give lavishly : And, if you are afraid to speak the truth. You, Satyrus, or you, gold and my favour Should make you fearless. Satyrus The reward is great. But I have nothing I can give for it. No evidence, not even the least surmise To offer for your treasure. Eugenius Nor have I. Placidia Further, Eugenius, if you have received A bribe from the seducer, I extend 46 Attila, My Attila ! My pardon to you if you give his name. Eugenius I cannot . . . but — Satyrus {^ickly) We neither of us know. Placidia {To Eugenius) I hold you, as Augusta's chamberlain, Responsible for this calamity ; Unless you track the wretch, who dared dishonour The princess in your charge, my will is fixed : You will be questioned under sharpest torture. And if that fails to move you, then your life Will pay the penalty of your neglect. Eugenius Torture ! Placidia You also, Satyrus, will suffer The same examination and same end Unless the work I trusted you to do Is done efficiently. Satyrus But death and torment Are useless as your gold, for I have nothing I can reveal — as yet. Placidia So fine a bloodhound As you will track the victim. (Eugenius watches him breathlessly) Satyrus Who can tell ! But if I do not — then I know my fate. Placidia Yes. (To Eugenius) It is also yours. You realise — Torture and then the executioner Out at the western gate : but torture first. 47 Attila, My Attila I Eugenius O Empress, Empress, if I am to find The man who has so angered you, at least Give me conditions I can offer him — Can offer anyone I might suspect — To win him to avowal, for your mercy . . . Satyrus I will not offer mercy in my search. Empress, forbid such trifling ; keep the law. Placidia I do not care if mercy or the law Find me the girl's seducer. Eugenius Then, I hope. You deign to give conditions ? Placidia Yes, his life. If he will make avowal — his bare life : Not an escape from punishment. Satyrus Such grace Is scarcely worth a thought. Eugenius You will not torture ? Placidia We use that to extort confession, not As punishment. Eugenius Oh then, I need not seek : The man is here. Placidia You ? Eugenius [Falling on his ^nees) I am he. Placidia {Moving far hack from him) My daughter Could give herself to him, a caitiff-slave ! Yet from the first I never had a doubt ; I saw her profanation in his face. And I determined I would make his tongue 48 Attila, My Attila I Own what his face revealed, or, if I could not, Would force you, honest Satyrus, to find Occasion for convicting him. I knew You were his mortal enemy ; and yet You could not see his guilt ! Satyrus It took your wisdom To find him out ; although his vile conditions Made me suspect at last. Placidia If I but wielded The might to strike him dead ! Satyrus But he is safe ; You were too clement. Placidia Yet his wish to live Will prove his worst calamity. Satyrus {yoyously) It will ! What shall you do with him ? Placidia Dismiss him first For some trumped-up dishonesty, some stealing Of revenue : that done, he shall be scourged With the iron-knotted lash they use for slaves, And banished to the Aquilegian mines. So, he has saved his life. {Re-enter Honor ia^ with Valentinian and Mar sa) Honoria {To Marsa) You watched the vessel ? — Eugenius, what has happened ? ( From the moment he confessed he has been kneeling^ his head bowed over his arms. At Honoria's voice he looks up; then bows his head again 49 ^ Attilay My Attila ! and sobs^ low at first^ but with increasing passion) Placidia You are here In time to see the partner of your guilt Sunk in humiliation. Look at him — The servant you intrigued with ! (Afarsa makes an instinctive movement of horror from Honor id's side) Honor ia [Low to her) Not by me ! Go yonder to my mother. Valentinian Do you mean That slave upon his knees has injured her ? Beast ! [He goes violently toward Eugenius) Honoria Valentinian, you are not his judge : You are not fit to judge us. Placidia I am judge, And this your rightful place. Come here, my son. [She points to her right hand and speaks to him as he joins her) Honoria [Defiantly walking up to Eugenius and putting her hands on his neck) Eugenius, rise ! It is not in this way Our love should be declared. A criminal, When you should be a lover ! Side by side We should have fired my mother to remember How in her days of youth she found the sweetness Of breathing was to love ; then, by my father, Implored her to forget you were not royal : 50 Attila, My Attila ! But you have given away your fate and mine By this behaviour, and to hear you weep Is blasphemy. O stop ! Placidia You shall not speak, Girl, of my love for one who was a hero, An honourable wooer ; I forbid Your father's honest name to pass your lips. As for that man — take ofF your hands from him ! His doom is settled. Honor ia I too am Augusta ; My title can protect him. ^ Fatentinian You Augusta ! You look sublime in contact with that worm — A goddess, worship her ! Placidia This childish folly Must end. The wretch is sentenced. Honoria If you mean The title you conferred on me is empty As now you make it, then I must beseech At least a hearing from the true Augusta. I gave myself; my lover never spoke His love, or sought to win me. This is truth — Yes, by my very lineage ; and in justice I ask his life. Placidia You need not. It was granted As price of his confession. Satyrus He betrayed you For that— his life. 51 E— 2 Attilay My Attila ! Homria {Talking away her hands from Eugenius* neck and shrinking hack) Eugenius, you could do it I I must have dreamt about you, and I wake To find . . . O Satyrus ! {^Eugenius sobs more bitterly) Valentinlan A rich reward For trusting an informer. Placidta You are sorry At last and own your sin ? Honoria I am not sorry. No, I am glad I meet you as a woman, I meet you as a mother. Shall I own A sin, when nothing but the purest impulse Of nature called, with that deliciousness That we are born to follow, and I went With peace and utter faith where I was led ! That is not sin. But now there is a crime Indeed, for which I burn. It cannot make The change in me a mockery, but, oh, It mocks at love, at everything I did, At innocence and honour. [Eugenius springs up and comes toward her^ but not near) Eugenius Do not think I, your vile servant, did not give you love, Although I have betrayed it. Deeper far Than any treason is the truth I loved i It is my only truth, just as the leper's 52 Attila, My Attila ! One truth — he once was well. Honoria You have your life. Why do you speak to me when there is nothing That I can do for you ? Eugenius ( With a cry) Princess, your pardon ! Honoria (Her face averted) Nothing that I can do. If we discover The gold coin we have used as gold is false. Is counterfeit, there is no talk of pardon : Gold is too precious. Do not plead again ! You make me gasp for breath. Eugenius But turn your face ! Think of the years that I shall famish for you, Shut in those awful mines among the slaves. Honoria I am not hard — if it can give you pleasure — ( She turns and looks at him) Eugenius O ecstasy ! {He seizes her hands) To hold these firm, warm hands Again — one instant ! Kiss me ! Falentinian Infamous ! Take that, you dog ! {He strikes him in the face across his mouth. Eugenius staggers an instant, then stands^ with cldncha hands^ as if waiting) Placidia Son, you debase yourself Even by touching him. Call in the guard. Remember, he is charged with larceny. ( Eugenius breaks into a short laugh and glances defiantly 53 Attila, My Attila 1 at Placidia^ hut^ meeting Honoria's eyes^ bows his head and continues still waiting) Honoria [Mechanically taking up her mother^ s words) — Call in the guard ! [Going to her mother) And now my punishment. [Raising her hands to her temples) Or have I borne it all ? It must be past, I think, already. Placidia It is not begun. But soon will be in force. You will be sent. When possible, to Theodosius' court. And placed among your cousins in their house. Where they devote their virgin days to prayer. Their needle and their studies. As attendant, I place you in the charge of Satyrus, Parting from his true service for the sake Of your complete security. Meanwhile You will be strictly kept within your room Till some few months are passed. Honoria You look so cold. So dead ! O mother, this is horrible : You fill me with alarm lest ... Placidia Come away ; The guard will soon be here, and I insist. Honoria [Piteously) Marsa, come too ! — And Satyrus will come ! [Suddenly, with a sharp, frightened cry, /ailing on her \nees, and clasping her hands) 54 Attila^ My Attila ! O mother, by the little, silver coffin In which your life is buried — save my child ! [Eugenius makes a movement tcnvard her^ then lets his arms fall ^ and goes on waiting) 55 ACT III Attilay My Attila ! ACT III Scene — The library of the royal palace at Byzantium, Several steps lead up to a central apse^ surrounded by windows that command the wallsy and beyond that^ a view of the Scythian tents. Towards the centre of the room there is a table on which rolls of parchment and colours used for illuminating are laid, Pulcheria^ dressed as a nun^ and Satyrus, Pulcheria You know I am intensely fond of her. Satyrus I do believe you love her. Pulcheria As my life. Satyrus Yet all these bitter years what have I seen, What have I had to see ? A little figure, Thin, mournful — eyes in which the light was glazed, And fingers busy with the broidery-frame They loathed the touch of. She is not a creature To thrive on barley-cakes and cold commands : So, I beseech you, pardon her at once ! What was her crime ? She talked with Maximin One day when he returned from embassy 59 Attildy My Attila ! To Attila, beyond the gates : and, think ! How natural that she should thirst for news Of this strange conqueror she used to worship As if the land of fairy gave him birth. It is a week since you imprisoned her : If she should die ... . Pulcheria I tell you, Satyrus, That there is nothing with a blessing in it I would not pluck down on her head, no flower. Or starry wreath, or secret, favouring air. Die ! — ^do you think that I could let her die. Who is the one live creature in our midst. Who might become what I shall never be, A saint, a power with God ; so rich a nature, Such Roman courage, and a power to light Whole empires as the sun ! If you speak truth, If I indeed have killed her — Satyrus No ; take heart ! Lies are enough to bring one to despair. They so perplex the mind ; but truth has always A kind of comfort in it : you have time To save my little mistress. Give her freedom To eat and sleep and play just as she pleases. And leave all things she ought to do undone — For that is so delightful I have known it Restore a raving madman to his wits. Pulcheria But I have such high hope of her. Satyrus Oh, then 60 Atfila, My Attila ! My counsel must be followed ! Let your hope Be as a hope the weather will be fine ; But do not force her : in your noble zeal You need not treat her as a common slave. I saw your sister strike her in the face A week ago — it was an ugly sight ! Pulcheria You saw that with your eyes ? Then no more justice. No struggle to be fair — the eddying sway And current of my passion. Lead her in ! {Exit Satyr us) And now I will be deaf to all their voices, And simply feast on her. She will despise me ; There are some deeds I would not have her witness For all the world that shortly must be done ; And yet through this free pardon . . . but no matter ! Although she brings me to a tingling sense Of misery, although I dread her comment As if it were God*s comment on my soul, I cannot live without her. [Re-enter Satyrus^ with Honoria in the dress of a novice) Oh, her fece ! Honoria Cousin Pulcheria, have you had a dream. And is it in obedience to a vision You suddenly unlock my prison doors ? Pulcheria Dearest, a yearning for your face. Honoria My women 6i Attila, My Attila ! Tell me my hair is gray — I do not know — But it may interest you to see the change ! [She throws back her hood) For I am now returned from discipline So much more than a penitent, a power, Strong as a hermit from the rocks. At last I have a kingdom where you cannot come, And beat the bliss right out of me, at last I have escaped you. In this dull, weak world I feel the pressure of a sovereign force Outside me and within. You ate and slept While I was starved and waking — oh, I thank you ! I have had revelation. Do not ask me What I have seen ! {Turning to Satyrus) Some wine, a little fruit ! [Exit Satyrus) Pukheria [taking Honoria*s hand) Open your heart to me ! Honoria If you mean kindness — Pukheria A mother's kindness, Honoria Leave me to myself. ( She closes her eyes, Pukheria goes out^ as if banished^ just as Satyrus returns with wine and fruit) If I could get more strength ! [Stroking the hand of Satyrus^ as he offers the fruit) This wrinkled hand Tells me I am not yet in Paradise, Although quite sure of it. You would lay down 62 Attilay My Attila ! Your life to serve me, would you not ? Satyrus My life — Truly a perfect offering ! It is yours. Honor ia O Satyrus, they think I'm growing old, But really I have had quite time enough Through these long, fourteen years of misery To grow both old and young again. The spring Must come again into one's life some day — And it has been such winter ! Fourteen years ! Not exile ! — I should like to be so much, Much further off from anyone who owns me, Or who has ever called me by my name. You have no relatives ? {Satyrus shakes his head) How fortunate ! If earth were free of them and one might start Quite fresh among the strangers, making friends Just as one could ! Sometimes I seem to breathe Where a new country steals across my senses As softly as the summer. Fourteen years ! And what have I been doing all the while ? Nothing at all, oh, nothing ! — until love Came and encamped around my life as round This city the black tents of Attila. Love ! Satyrus But, dear mistress, you have been forbidden To have a second lover. Honoria {Heedless) Faraway, 63 Attila, My Attila ! And where Time was not, I was in the arms Of a great hero — very fire of love The breath and the embrace ! Satyrus How pitiful ! I know this kind of dream and how it haunts ; It has no root in possibility. I wish you had not dreamed a dream like that. Honoria But do not be so listless ; you must help To bring it all to pass. I count on you. Who else is there to help me \ Satyrus Be explicit. My darling princess, if you have commands. Honoria Most certainly I have. It is so simple To execute when one has dreamed the whole. These people fussing round me do not dream ; They have their faith, and hope, and prayer, and not The whole strong web before them. All is fixed, And we have just to move into our places, I and — Satyrus Your hero ? Honoria My deliverer. Satyrus At least his name ? Honoria No, guess it, Satyrus. Satyrus Some name they give a cloud ! Honoria A thunder-cloud. Who is it that is mixed up with our thoughts So that the air is charged with him ; who is it That is not east nor west, but has an empire 64 Attila, My Attila That reaches to the borders of the world ? Satyr us The Church has that. Honoria Who is it that can hold The Church in awe, to whom the Pope himself Bows down ? Oh, you are stupid ! — Attila, My Attila I I never have been mated, I have a soul to give that is Augusta, That cannot stoop. While the barbarian women Contend around his tents, I have decreed His passion shall be drawn across the borders To me, I have received his salutation. O Attila, my Attila ! — the dreams That he is dreaming of me ! If the dead Can walk to those they love, and force their senses To sight and hearing, shall my great desire Fail on its way to him ? It does not faiL We are betrothed in secret, and my life Flows to fulfilment of these prophecies As simply as a river to the sea. The rest is easy. You must bear a ring . . » Satyrus The deuce I must ! Honoria And he will claim his bride The soldier's fashion. This will come to pass. The world is his ; he scarcely needs to fight, He conquers by sheer willing : so I purpose To win my place beside him \n the world — My Attila ! 6S 1 v; Attila, My Attila ! Satyr us But I would rather see you Tortured before my eyes. I will not go. It is an infamy ! Think of your land, Your mother, your — Honoria My land has been a prison, My mother is the murderess of my child, My lover was — a traitor. I desire Nothing but retribution on them all. When the storm bursts Let me be in the thunder-cloud ! You pause . . . O faithful, are you faithless when my need Is so extreme. Why, why will you not go ? Satyrus His instincts and his habits, his religion, His language ! — faugh ! It is impossible To love a stranger you have never seen. Honoria I never saw my child : but he is mine For ever, and I love him day and night ; He makes my thoughts about the universe More soft, and I have freedom in my blood Because he was created. Then you know The story of the soul and how it loves Blindfolded its dear Eros. Take the ring ! ( Satyrus silently refuses and walks away to a little distance) You are afraid ? Satyrus (Turning) I am. Honoria (Contemptuously) I thought at least You still had courage. Satyrus Do not say such things ; 66 Attila, My Attila I You never once have said them — Oh, this taunt ! — Do not, Augusta ! Honoria I am desperate : I cannot of myself fulfil my passion, I cannot reach the freedom I desire, I cannot carry suffering to its end. . . . {Falling down before him) Satyrus, I will not spare you now ! Can you condemn me, you^ to helplessness, To life that is not failure, but a blank ? Satyrus I have but one temptation left — despair. God, do not wake it ! Honoria It is here with me — All that might come to pass if I were able To live my life, and all the odious, long And fettered way to death because I cannot : For you have waked despair. Oh, how I hate Your cruelty ; it sweeps me like a tempest. It rouses in me wrath and desperation, Lightning and ice together — horrible ! 1 am a wreck through you. ( She sobs in frantic misery : then of a sudden faces him defiantly) But do not think I shall not find a bearer for my ring ; If you refuse me, I will choose some other. No trusted servant, but a shifty slave, And risk that other's treason. Satyrus [With terror in his face) No, you shall not, 67 F— 2 Attilay My Attila ! While I can serve you. If it makes you happy Just to die wretched in a miry hut Amid the filth and clatter, fetch your ring, And I will bear it. This design of yours Has one or two good points of policy. . . . Honoria Why were you stubborn, why did you inflict Such sorrow on us both ? Forgive my cry Against your harshness, O forgive, forget — Satyrus {With a sad smile) And do your will ! There is a fearful strength Beneath these silken temples. Lose no time. Honoria There is the ring. Satyrus But tell me on which hand Do you propose to fix the magic token ? Honoria {Putting the ring on Satyrus^s right hand) On this, on this ! Say that I give him all With this, my faith, my honour, and my love. Say that I worship him {Kissing the ring on Satyrus^ s finger), Satyrus So I have won A kiss at last. Honoria Say I am older now — Satyrus Yes, after fourteen years you have received That grace of time. Honoria And am not covetous Of youth or beauty — Satyrus Why, I have gray hairs . . . Honoria But full of admiration for great deeds 68 Attila, My Attila i Valour and strength. Say that I feel within A greatness to wed greatness. Something answers Deep in my nature to that energy That makes a waste place of an obstacle. Say that I fear him. Satyrus That is ably put, Fear him and yet desire. Honoria It is a challenge, For, if he loves me, Attila must come And claim me with an army. Satyrus And your dower ? He will be keen on that. Honoria Oh, half the kingdom, All that his sword can win. You need not speak To him of dowry. Satyrus Well, your eyes are bright. Most starry, preternatural. You have That way of shining like a goddess through Your flesh when you are happy : that is why I like to give you pleasure. Recollect On my return you must not run to greet me As if I were a messenger from Zeus ; But cast a pensive glance at me, and say / trust the holy yohn is well in health — For I must seem to come from conference With the great hermit who confesses you. Honoria Oh, run as if you were a messenger In very earnest. Speed ! 69 Attilay My Attila ! (Exit Satyrus) How happiness Will always be just in a pair of rings, The giving and the taking, nothing more ! I wonder — will he send me back his own, And what will be the posy ? . . . Just perhaps An iron hoop, and I shall miss the art ; No matter, if it comes from him and is As strong and simple as his character : I shall not trouble. Oh, how glad I am. And young again to-day. I used to think — But then I was a little fool, sixteen — That I must beg for love upon my knees. Instead of loving, breaking into bloom Myself, and feeling all the crush of flowers. [Js she leans from a window .^ Theodosius comes in with Arcadia and Marina, both dressed as nuns. He goes up to his painting-tahle^ while his sisters sit down at a great embroidery-frame) Theodosius You, little cousin, are you here alone ? I met your eunuch ; he avoided me. Where was he going ? Honoria Simply from my presence. I had dismissed him. Let me see your painting. Dear Theodosius, you are happy now Among your missals — (Js she comes from the window toward him Pulcheria^s voice is heard outside) Pulcheria Is the Emperor here ? 70 Attiky My Attila I ( Honor ia draws back again into the window-recess^ and Theodosius begins to paint. Pulcheria enters hur- riedly, without noticing Honoria : she looks scorn- fully at Theodosius^ and tosses some rolls of parchment on the table) Then, Theodosius, you are ignorant Of my instructions to the envoys ? Theodosius [Carelessly) Yes. How well these scarlet stems run up and down, A net-work on the blue ! I call this page My masterpiece. Pulcheria Indeed ! But let it be. And give me your attention. In your name I sent the three ambassadors with gold . . . Theodosius Good ! Pulcheria With a donative — you understand ? A subsidy. Theodosius Oh good ! Pulcheria You do not mind ? Arcadia Well, anything is better than the sense Of savages all round. Marina This Attila Infests the very air. Pulcheria He casts a shadow, I know, a great, black shadow on our thoughts. But yet to send him bribes . . . Honoria [At the window) O horrible ! {Pulcheria shudders; then paces backward and forward) 71 Attilay My Attila ! Marina When did the envoys start ? Pulcheria This very hour. Honoria The envoys at his camp . . . {Under her breath) While Satyrus — [She advances impetuously) Recall them I Is it possible the grandchild Of Theodosius can corrupt a foe ? Pulcheria [Turning) Honoria, my wretched people starve For miles beyond the gates. Reason and pity Urge me to sheathe the sword. Arcadia And you imagine Our gifts and flatteries will fail to win A welcome from the greed of Attila ! Honoria Send after those cursed messengers ! I warn you— And I to-day am full of prophecies That sweep like storms across my soul ; I see The universe as in a crystal glass — Avoid this shameful meeting : it will draw Wide ruin on us all ! I am inspired To know that this is right and must be done. ( She moves to the door) Arcadia (Scornfully) Well, do not rush out in the street with orders ; Summon your chamberlain. Honoria [As she turns back with drooping hands y and despair on her face) It is too late . . . 72 Attila, My Attila I {Passionately) Before my child was born I saw the eyes Of murderers round my bed : it is the same Now, it will be the same throughout my life. All human creatures round me want to kill My, hopes and my ambitions. Pulcheria All but one, A woman, pitted against Attila. Honoria If I could make you feel how great a power He is to touch the spring of as a helm — How he will laugh to see the Roman gold. For he is no mean, despicable foe To palter with, but one of those great souls With whom great souls must dwell in amity. But there ! I cannot help you : you have bribed him, Are sending him ambassadors — the shame ! Pulcheria Yes, Roman money and not Roman swords To drive the devil ofF ! Oh, how I suffer — Two nuns, a painter, and myself a weak. Peace-loving woman, to repel the Hun ! Theodosius You are Augusta ! Pulcheria Ah, I am — in name. Honoria You bring the blood into my ghostly title. In name ! — but I am in reality : {Aside ^ as she turns to the window) \ am . . , Those envoys ! Pulcheria Nothing comes to pass That I desire ; I have no force to rule. {Turning fiercely on Theodosius) You will have none. 73 Atttla, My Attila ! Theodosius I own no genius For politics. Pulcheria No sense of your great place, The awful power it gives you. {She comes to him^ strikes the brush out of his hand and opens one of the rolls of parchment before him) Read this paper You signed without a scruple yesterday. Iheodosius {Glancing at it) Pulcheria ! I signed it. O my God ! Pulcheria Yes, you condemned to death that fair Greek maiden, Who fled to me, an orphan, from the slights * And avarice of her brothers, Athenais. I had this order laid among the rest ; You signed each one unread. Go through them now. We leave you to your thoughts. ( She goes out with Arcadia and Marina) Theodosius My misery ! How could I do it ? Athenais — love ! ( He tears the death-warrant across^ pushes the other parchments away^ and hides his face in his hands. Honoria rushes down and puts her arms round him) Honoria O Theodosius, I am just like you ! I understand — you cannot read the edicts. For there is only one thing in the world. Dear fellow, that you care for, but one name. You are in love. 74 Attihy My Attila ! Theodosius Beyond all remedy, And in despair. Honoria But love should give a strength. It is because we disbelieve in love We get so thwarted ; for Time stoops to catch Our lovers* whispers — in futurity He plants them as a seed. Do not despair ; I have a hundred reasons to despair ; I will not. Theodosius But you must not turn away Now you have learnt the truth. Ask me some questions ! My mistress is so perfect. Honoria You have seen her, The lady that you dote on. Theodosius Why, of course. {He shows a page of illumination) This face, these tresses in their golden plaits . . . You recognise ? Honoria How lovely ! Tell me more. Theodosius But there can be no more. She is not royal ; The child of a philosopher. Honoria I thought Your lip was trembling, oh, I thought you loved her; And then — Theodosius What then, Honoria ! Alas, The child is pagan. Honoria Do not speak to me Of things outside, — the colour of her hair, 75 Attildy My Attila ! Her birth, and least of all of her religion. You love her — do you feel the answer back ? Quick, I am breathless. Theodosius But I cannot offer My honourable love. She is a servant, Low-born, impossible. Oh, I have blundered ! I did not mean to hurt you. Honorta No, you cannot. I loved Eugenius, and regret the loving Not for a single moment of my life. There ! We will speak no more of him. But you, Dear Theodosius, do not let it pass. This glory that is rising on your life. Rising on hers, for love makes life so whole. Fills up all hollow spaces, enters in All gaps of solitude : it is the vigil, The fasting, and the ecstasy in one. Theodosius Honoria, you speak as if you felt What I feel now, yet kept in strict seclusion — Honoria I have seen no man, but I love apart From time, from sense. Theodosius This is too difficult : You must have had a vision. Honoraria I have drawn A destiny too great upon my head. Have claimed so much I never can receive, A joy that I shall die of if I taste . . . Theodosius But here is Athenais, and alone. 76 Attila, My Attila ! What shall I do ? Homr'ia Leave everything to me. {She pushes him behind the embroidery frame ; Athenais goes up to a reading-desk) Dear Athenais, put away those scrolls, And I v^rill give you knowledge far more precious Than any they can give. You are beloved. Athenais You mean ? Honoria By him. Athenais But he will never dare To marry me, and, princess, I am proud j I will not stoop to hear of love unless He takes me as his consort, Honoria But he will. Athenais His sister may despise my parentage, Although I am the great Leontius' daughter, And trained in Grecian science ; but if this Is so, I will return and beg my bread — For, oh, I do adore him ! Theodosius [Springing forward) I have heard : I pledge to you my honourable love. Come with me to my sister. I have chosen, And, as I am a man, she shall accept. [To Honoria) My dearest cousin, lonely, little exile. Tell me of something I could do to give More sweetness to your life ; for Athenais And I would grant whatever you desire. Would we not, love ? n Attila, My Attila ! Athenais We would. Honoria I shall remember ! But do not think of me. [They go out) How wise they are, Perfect and fearless. — We shall tread like that Etzel*s red fleeces. Oh, how glorious To push aside the curtains of a tent, And feel the breeze, and face the multitude. My Attila, it is a happy omen. This pairing of young lovers ! ... I am certain The envoys have encountered Satyrus, Certain they will betray him. But the power That throws dust into mortal eyes, bewilders. And carries through its heavenly intents. Is with me, and no enterprise can fail That is entirely hopeless. I am safe. [Re-enter Pulcheria) (Honoria has stood for a long time looking out. It is now sunset) Pulcheria Well, I have blest the lovers. Theodosius, Through you, is now a man, and I believe His choice may save him ; it does save the soul, I think, to have her choice. Honoria It does, it does ! Pulcheria 1 dared not thwart him. Honoria No, you would be damned. Thwarting the soul's desires Pulcheria I think I should. 78 Attila, My Attila ! Honoria, / came to speak of love. Honoria Then I will listen. Pulcheria Theodosius says You have a love apart from time and sense. He finds that difficult to understand ; I do not. I have longed through all my life To love like that and cannot. Honoria No, indeed ! You talk of ecstasies and I enjoy, Of the soul's freedom and my soul is free. You talk of blessedness and I am blessed Above all other women. Pulcheria [Below the steps in front) I believe She is God's chosen and will be an empress Among the saints. Honoria [Turning) You are a hypocrite, A traitor, sending bribes to Attila. Ah, I have found you out ! And dare you face That glory rushing toward us from the sun. Bearing such honour to us ? I receive it. It comes in answer to my dream : but you — Pulcheria I am all names you call me. How you read Straight down into my heart ! A hypocrite ; For I have seemed a saint and am a sinner ; And traitor^ yes, for I have offered bribes. Honoria, in the light of those gold beams. Bless me and pardon. Honoria [Coming close to her) I have sat and hated 79 Attiky My Attila ! Your face for fourteen years. Pule her ia I could bear that, If you would let me be your stepping-stone, If you would give your family the saint I may not hope to give it. Honoria I have hated My family for more than fourteen years. Puleheria Oh, that is nothing, all the saints do that. I love you as a stranger, with the passion The heathen give to those who bring them life. There had been death around me till you came. You, with your living face and living eyes And living voice ! (^8he tries to embrace her and is re- pulsed) Oh, you are pitiless I Honoria As you are in pursuit. Puleheria But do not hate me, For you are all I have among my own. All I can build on . . . You have had a vision ; Repeat the blessed dream to me. Honoria I will not. [Perceiving Satyr us) But there are those to whom it has been trusted, Who can receive it — ( Enter Satyrus) Satyrus, what news ? Where is the ring ? I shudder. Satyrus ! Satyrus Lady, your will is done. Honoria And he replies — What ? Do not heed my cousin ; the suspense 80 Attila, My Attila Will kill me ! He replies . . . ? O Satyrus, My brain grows hollow with the agony, And I hear echoes — save me ! Satyrus All is well. {To Pulcheria) Empress, I come from John the Anchorite, With full interpretation of a vision — Pulcheria [Doubtfully) From John the Anchorite ? Honor ia And he replies — Quick, this is torture. Satyrus Oh, he thinks you marked For some great future, says you are elect Beyond all question, an elected bride, A spouse and well-beloved. Pulcheria [Devoutly lifting her hands) How wonderful ! My thought confirmed. Satyrus But says you must be patient ; Great destinies are worked out by degrees. Honoria [Examining Satyrus* hand) It pleased him . . ? [Enter a Chamberlain) Chamberlain Madam, the ambassadors Are in the palace and most urgently Beseech you for an audience. Pulcheria [To Honoria) Beata, I will return. Honoria No, do not, for this vision Is something you can never understand. [Exit Pulcheria and the Chamberlain) Where is the ring ? 8i o Attila^ My Attila ! Satyrus Not on his index-finger ; You had not calculated how enormous That is : his hands — Honoria He could not put it on ? He tried ? Was that the end ? What did he say When you unfolded all I felt for him, All the great future I will bring to pass ? Satyrus He liked that, and he fumbled with the hoop While I was talking, scrutinised its motto ; And then he laughed — I never heard such laughter — And said you were immodest. Honoria {As she recoils^ with heaving breast) While I thought There was a god within him that could answer Love's sheer divineness back ! He did not surely Laugh all the time f They say he never laughs. Satyrus His Huns were thunder-struck to hear the sound : But soon he had regained his gravity ; And then he said by the interpreter Your messages were frank and interesting. Honoria Frank ! But that seems to wound me ; yet you say His interest was awakened, perhaps his wonder ; For it must be a wondrous condescension To him that I should offer him my ring. Satyrus It is to me an infamy so great 82 Attila, My Attila ! I almost tore it from his hand. Honor ia Oh, why ? Satyrus Because, Augusta, he is such a beast, This son of Mudzuk, with his hateful eyes That seem to lick the terror they inspire. If you could only watch them ! Honoria He refused To yield my ring ? Satyrus Precisely : but he questioned— Honoria Of what ? Satyrus Your dowry. Honoria Ah ! You said that half The West belonged to me ? Satyrus And then he lent, The devil, on the black skins of his throne— Honoria Musing ? Satyrus His features did not work, and yet It seemed as if some frenzy mastered him. Honoria Oh, then it was he brooded on my love ; He is half-savage, and these silences Are needful for some brains to understand. I like that silence, and can now forgive him The laugh that hurt me, in my turn, laugh too. So he is ugly, and his throne is black . . . What are you thinking of to look so sad Now I at last am happy ? Satyrus You are safe, Safe in your madness ; they will never venture 83 G--2 Attila, My Attila ! To hurt you by a hair, for Attila Would sack half Italy in his revenge. Honoria [Triumphantly) He would. Satyrus But I am lost ; I shall not serve you After to-day. Honoria ( Who has not listened ) O Satyrus, do you Think me immodest ? Satyrus No, unusual. Poor little girl, that's all. And Attila Has never seen you, there is that excuse. If he had looked into your eyes, such noble. Believing eyes, he never could have laughed. Honoria Thank you, dear Satyrus. Now if there's danger. The least, you must escape. [She pushes him away from her. Re-enter Pulcheria and a train of mutes and chamberlains) Pulcheria Not by this door. [To attendants) Arrest and bind him. And, Honoria, say. What shall we do now with these awful names You pierced me with ? I would far rather keep them Than see you branded with their infamy. Speak, did you send your messenger with gold ? [Honoria nods) Then we are fellow-sinners. Honoria Not at all. I simply sent to him the golden ring 84 Attila, My Attila ! They give to lovers. And he wears it nowr. Speak to me as the bride of Attila, And do not touch my hands. Pulcheria You doom the world To fire and sword, if Attila should claim you — Honoria But I am ready to start forth to-day ; I have no fear of him. Give me some horses, And, with a single servant, Satyrus, I will go forth and meet my fate. Pulcheria [In a stifled voice) Ravenna Must be your doom — (Honoria cowers an instant) or if . . . Child, I can pardon, If you would love me . . , Honoria (Drawing herself up to her full height) Every element That can bring ruin fall upon the land. On East and West alike. Imprison me, Ah, even at Ravenna, if you will, I have the empire in my grasp and doom it Most freely to perdition. Fire and sword. Famine and sickness, let them break on you ! I have his hand who is the scourge of God. Traitor and hypocrite ! Pulcheria (Faintly) I cannot sentence. (To attendants) Call in the Emperor. As for that false slave. Bear him to execution. 85 Attildy My Attila / Honoria Satyrus ? You shall not do it ! On my knees, I pray — (Re-enter Theodosius^ Athenais^ Arcadia^ Marina^ with the Ambassadors and Courtiers), But here is Theodosius. Pulcheria White with rage ; Do not appeal to him. Theodosius These envoys swear That they have seen your eunuch in the tent. Ambassadors We swear. Honoria And you swear truth. But, Theodosius, You said when I brought love into your life I brought so great a boon that anything I ever chose to ask for should be mine. I ask the life of Satyrus. Unbind him ! Theodosius Put him to instant torture. Honoria Athenais, Plead for him ! Athenais But I cannot plead ; the man Is taken in high treason. Honoria [T>esperately clutching Pulcheria'* s hand) If you love me — (A pause. Pulcheria remains speechless) Theodosius Behead him quickly. I am ruler now, Pulcheria, and dismiss your favourite For ever from my court. {Separating them) Unlock her hand, It sold me to the devil ! 86 Attiluy My Attila ! Honoria {Fixing her eyes on Satyrus^ who is being led away^ and lifting her hands as if to draw a curse down on them all) Attila, My Attila, come to me and avenge ! 87 ACT IV 89 Attila, My Attila ACT IV Scene — The private chapel of the royal palace at Ravenna, It is rich with mosaic-work and gold. A flight of steps leads up to the altar : two chairs of state are placed below the steps to the right. Placidia, now white-headed^ sits on her throne ; before her^ at a little distance^ stands Eugenius. Placidia You know, Eugenius, why I sent for you ? Eugenius Empress, when they unloosed my chains, I stammered — Did it mean pardon ; and they said in jest, I know it must have been in mockery, Something about Augusta and myself. Placidia They did not jest ; I summoned you to wed Augusta — no, the woman you betrayed : I summon you to make my child a wife. Eugenius {In blank amazement) And she — she wishes this ? Placidia She does not know. 9^ Attildy My Jtttla ! Eugenius Then I refuse. Placidia You cannot. Eugenius I refuse. And now I am beyond your threats j my life Is a loathed burthen — Placidia Torture ? Eugenius That is grown Familiar, that I suffer every day : It cannot now unnerve me. Placidia Then it fails. Eugenius What do you want ? Honoria — Placidia Your old manners At least ! You were her servant. Eugenius That disgrace Has been wiped out for ever. You may frown ! The girl I rave of in the moonlit nights, Who comes with little, tripping feet, Augusta ! No, by my manhood, but Honoria, mine, My love, my mistress ! Placidia And to be your wife. Eugenius Never ! She loved me fourteen years ago, And I have gone on loving her. But she — I know she has been loathing me, unless . . . {^JVith sudden agony) Unless she has been wanton and again . . . Empress, why did you summon me — to cloak Some lover's insult ? 92 Attila, My Attila ! Placidia Yes, to be her shield From utter infamy. Eugenius Again — O God ! I will not shield her. Placidia She has sent a ring To Attila ; he took it, and demands Her person and her dowry. We must either By Christian marriage put her beyond reach Of his unlawful claim, or give his lust And avarice their victim. Eugenius Madam, why Am I raked up for this ? Placidia How natural ! You who have once possessed her. Eugenius Once ! How often Have others ? Placidia She has lived in strict seclusion Since you were parted ; but this ring she sent To Attila removes her from all hope Of human sympathy and help, but yours. Save her, if you repent. Eugenius That I betrayed her, Yes ; that I loved her, that she gave herself. No, never ! But it seems her heart is set On this disgusting Hun, a rival. Madam, Less to your taste than I. Placidia She has not seen him. Eugenius Then it grows clear. Thiswas a childish trick 93 Attila, My Attila ! Like that she played on me — a trothplight-ring For any finger. After fourteen years, So little changed ! Placidia You recognise the need ? We must protect her by a formal rite. Eugentus And have you thought what it will be to me? I love her ; in your cursed mines I learnt To love her as a man : I have won freedom, Chipping your gold and swearing. Do not trust me With any formal part. Placidia I cannot save her : I made her an Augusta in the hope Of keeping her from misery ; she plunges Into the vortex and she calls me hard. Save her — you can. [Coming up to him^ she lays her hands clasped in sup^ plication on his breast) Eugenius I shall get little thanks For this salvation. Placidia When she sent the ring, He said — it was reported through the camp — That Roman women have no modesty. How will he treat her, if we give her up ? Eugenius You shall not give her up. (Valentinian enters) Placidia Then take your place Beside the altar till I summon her. 94 Attilay My Attila ! {Placidia addresses one of the guard — then she and Valentinian talk together) Eugenius ( By the altar) Ho, ho ! And now we shall clasp hands again ; No man has clasped her hand. How I have cursed her, In these hot mines and called on all the devils To take her : but this devil, Attila . . . (HoNORiA enters ; she is dressed simply in white as on the morning of her birthday. The same — except the faded hair, except . . . No, I have lost the little girl who tripped Down to me in the mines — lost her for ever ! {He covers his eyes) Honor ia ( Speaking very low and with great sweetness) Why have you sent for me ? I am contented, Quite happy now, though I am in Ravenna, And kept so strict a captive. Eugenius Oh, her voice ! Honoria I live, though I am buried in the earth ; A power has touched me that is like the sun. And every little fibre of my body Is beating with the spring. You cannot hurt me ; I love the salt air from the marsh, I love The deep seclusion. Valentinian Then your country's groans Have never reached you ? Honoria I can hear no sound . . . I know the surfece of the earth itself 95 Attildy My Attila ! Is being moved by Attila ; I know There are black ridges on the empire's verge. Valentinian You do not know there has been one cam- paign Already, that our kingdom is laid waste By you . . . Honoria [A doubtful eagerness brightening her face) By me ? Valentinian I tell you, in your name Cities are burned, the harvest trampled down : Vicenza and Verona, Bergamo, Milan, all left as poor as villages — Honoria [Involuntarily) He must have been in Italy ! Valentinian And women You are not fit to touch through you were forced Into the devilish arms for which you long. Honoria He has been here ! Valentinian You flush ! Honoria And as my portion Claims . . . Italy? Valentinian To strike you in the face ! — He claims half of my kingdom. Honoria Yes — and ? Valentinian You To be his bride. Honoria The bride of Attila ! [Eugenius comes nearer) My ring has virtue, and my hope has virtue, 96 Attila, My Attila I And my abounding faith in him — O joy ! I felt the dream I had to be so great That he must act it. Bride of Attila ! Valentinian The Tanjou vows unless we give you up In spring he will descend on Rome itself, And burn the holy city. Give you up ! No, not if God or man can keep you ours. Smile, like a vampire, do ! You will not win mc To tolerate your ghoul, with greedy hand Halving my sceptre, rolling from his lips Counter-commands to mine, and getting children. With noses broad as tents, to take his place Above the Roman world. Honoria I never yet Have needed to contend : I do not think That words can settle anything. O mother. Why do you care to keep me still in bonds, When you are quite defeated .? Placidia No, I am not. I send for you to do my will as simply As when I sent for you to take the crown And title of Augusta. You are here By Christian marriage to be made a wife ; And by that bond I shall defeat your hope Of ever being bride to Attila. Honoria But nothing can prevent it. Placidia Yes, God can — The Church of God, its holy sacrament. 97 « Attilay My Attila ! Honoria [Laughing softly) A sacrament can keep me from him — try, Oh, let it try ! Placidia Blaspheming girl, it can. For you are to be married, to be joined Securely to another, who will be Your sole possessor. Eugenius [Between his teeth) Yes, your sole, Honoria Ha. . . . married ? [She laughs ringingly) To whom ? Eugenius [Coming to her with extended hands) My unforgotten, you forget. To me, in name. Honoria [Blankly) To you — [Recognising him) To you ! The pity That you should take a truth of long ago And turn it into falsehood. (Keeping him back with a gesture of her hands) You are nothing. No more to me than is my father's grave. That does not sway a motion of my life. Leave me ! Eugenius I cannot, till, my service done, The servant is dismissed. Honoria To play at marriage — You who have been my lover ! Eugenius And betrayed you. Have you forgotten that ? Through all the years 98 Attildy My Attila ! I never have forgotten it. You loved me As women must not love, you dragged my heart Through hell for you ; but not to see your face, Though it is like the upper light to me. Do I stand here. You shall not be betrayed Again — and by a man who could not suffer, Who could not love you. . . . I, at least I love. At least I suffer. I am here to save you From even a viler traitor than myself. Placidia By making you a wife. Honoria Oh — anything ! Call me what names you will, Eugenius* wife^ Augusta : I have learnt what titles mean. You cannot scare me with such shadows while I see the Tanjou with a naked sabre Flashing before him as he rushes forth To make the lands his own. I am the bride Of Attila whatever you may do. And am secure against these forms and rites Because the love that knitted up the world Is with me — love, love, love ! Placidia O misery. To hear one's child as she will rage in hell ' (She sinks on her throne). Valentinian [Laying hold of Honoria) You serpent, I will hold and never loose you Till you arc knotted fast. You do not care 99 «-^ Attila, My Attila ! Although you kill your mother. Honoria Years ago I think she would have killed me, if she could. [Turning to Eugenius) She killed our child. Eugenius, you consent Now to obey her will ? I have no care For anything they do to me : but you, Can you be base again ? Eugenius Give me your hand. I do this for your sake and . . . damn your mother ! Honoria {Slowly) Then I forgive you. Oh, what cruelty You deal yourself ! Eugenius My ring upon your hand, I only wish to live to keep it there. While the long, famishing and awful years Number my exile. Valentinian {Tahjng her by her shoulder) I am urgent now. Summon the priest. Honoria No violence ! If you need A victim for your altar, I am ready. While you are jabbering prayers I shall appeal To the great wizard God is sending forth To overthrow you. I am with the storms, Nature's own incantations, devilry That heaven itself unlooses : I appeal To the seven, deadly plagues, to flood and fire, To the invisible, destroying hosts 100 Attilay My Attilal That lay whole empires prostrate east and west. I do not plead my cause — I plead myself, Forbidden my own nature : such a cry Is shriller than the raven's. ( She takes Eugenius* hand^ and^ laughing a low^ wild laugh^ goes up to the altar. Placidia lifts her head and sees Valentinian) Placidia How it echoes, That laughter like a child's laugh, through the church. O Valentinian, I shall soon be dead. Falentinian I do not like her curses. Placidia Go to her. ( Valentinian ascends the steps with the priest and several courtiers and women^ among them Marsa. Placidia sits rigid as stone) He thinks she cursed me. Can it be that children Have any power to curse ? I thought that parents Alone could strike that mortal way. I thought — {Faintly) Marsa. [Marsa comes from among the women and stoops over Placidia) Marsa Yes, Empress, yes ! But are you ill ? Placidia I suffer, that is all. Marsa, you said Once that your daughter should be made a nun ; But now, if I command, you will obey ? Marsa Empress, in everything. Placidia But tell me first Whether your girl desires to leave the world ? lOI Attila, My Attila ! Marsa I cannot hope she does. Placidia Then marry her Where she is drawn to marry, and, while young. Plant her in soil that brought you happiness. Remember ! Fan me, Marsa ! {Pointing toward the altar ^ but not looking) Is it done ? God, if this marriage should be farce on farce. And Attila possess her after all. For he rejects our sanctions, he is bound By nothing we are bound by. It is strange I never thought of that, and I will never Allow it can be thought of. [She closes her eyes as if dead — then opens them suddenly) An alarm ! How startling ! What can cause it ? Marsa Shall I ask ? [Advancing toward the door) It grows ; the guards no longer bar the way. Empress, my husband ! (Anthemius, conducted by soldiers and courtiers^ reaches Placidia^ s throne and falls at her feet) Anthemius Attila is dead. Placidia But . . . Are you sure of this ? Anthemius The Hun is dead. Placidia [Grasping the arms of her chair and rising) Then I am not defeated. Sin is sin. And God opposes fierce idolators. 102 Attila, My Attila ! My people, do you hear him ? Attila Is dead. All Deliverance ! Attila is dead ! ( The whole chamber rings with the cry as Honor ia turns her back on the priest and EugeniuSy the marriage having been consummated. On hearing the news Eugenius raises his arms with a gesture of thanksgiving toward the altar, Honoria*s face as she turns is rapt and glorified^ but slowly fixes in horror) Honor ia It is a lie, a fearful piece of jesting To follow such a marriage. Oh, I know When there is truth in anything — I feel it. And this is quite outside me. All you say And do is lying. (She advances), Attila is dead As truly as Eugenius is my husband. But this is acted bravely — nuptial games To follow our espousals ! [She laughs) Shout again Your frantic chorus Attila is dead! See, I will lead you ! [She pauses on the top of the steps and looks round) You are silent now, You dare not speak that falsehood to my face ; For Attila, you know, will never die — That is the terror. I have summoned him To break my bonds : he will destroy you all. 103 Attilay My Attila ! (Placidia gives a glance of doubt and anguish at Anthemius) Who told this poor, weak, flimsy tale ? Valentinian Ha, ha ! You do not recognise the messenger. Honor ia ( Hurrying down the steps) Who is it ? No . . . Anthemius, you have always Been faithful and a friend to me. Speak truth, While I can hear. You do not understand How life itself grows hollow as you jest. And leaves me undefended — Anthemius I speak truth ; I would not lie, a soldier's word ! Honor ia Oh then It is report ; often such mighty falsehoods Grow up around the mighty — a report With something in it, and you do not know The Scythian tongue ; you misinterpreted. He may have fallen sick, but is not dead, For that would be mere chaos and collapse. [Turning to Eugenius^ who stands now on the top of the steps) He has my ring — Eugenius, do you hear ? — For troth-plight on his hand : I am his bride— These are realities. Anthemius (Desperately) I saw him dead With my own eyes, Augusta. Honor ia Saw it . . . oh ! 104 Attila, My Attila I [Reeling) Where's Satyrus ? . . . [She lifts her hands for help; Eugenius hastening down the steps tries to support her^ but she rejects his help^ and props herself against a column as if she were bound to it) Now tell me . . . all the rest. Anthemius Dead in his tent, his warriors riding round In eagle-rings, and further off the women Raising their shrill lament. Honor ia [IVith vague exultation) A cry comes up As from the bosom of the esLrth— farewell ! And they have lost their god : my Attila ! [fVith glowing fa ce^ she spreads out her arms as if to receive a divinity; Eugenius sinks down on the lowest step of the altar) Valentinian How did he die ? From gorging ? Anthemius He was murdered. Valentinian Some rebel . . . ? Anthemius No, his bride — Valentinian How's that ? Eugenius [Springing up) His bride? Honor ia [With a shriek) His bride ! Anthemius The captive Ildico. I sat At table with him : — horror, drunkenness, And merriment of savages ! I saw His victim dragged on to the nuptial couch. Piled high above the throne ; and caught a glimpse 105 Attiky My Attila ! One instant of her curious, watchful face. As the girl passed, a shudder followed her ; Although the host of warriors roared and stamped Acclaimingly, they knew she had been forced. Honor ia (Her face rigid and threatening) Forced ! and while he was asking . . . Placidia Do not publish Your shame, for your own sake. You must be conscious Of your mad folly now. Anthemius Yes, every one Knew that the girl was forced, but no one dreamed That such a deed was trembling at her heart. Honoria They did not . . . Oh, go on ! Anthemius And when next morning He did not leave his tent, as was his custom, The army laughed ; but as the daylight spread One glitter on the plain, and still no sound Broke through the folds, the jesting died away. His warriors clashed their spears against their shields ; He did not wake : they cried about the tent Like wolves and jackals . . . but he did not wake. At last they caught the tent-skirt in their hands And entered one by one. The bride was seated, ' White, with malicious and abandoned eyes. Nursing a laugh, her veil wrung round her chin. And Attila lay prostrate in a mass Of frozen blood ! (During all this while Honoria* s face and attitude 1 06 Attila, My Attila ! have become more terrible and fascinated, PaUy with blank eyes and a jeering laugh^ she catches hold of her own veil and wrings it round her head^ while her right hand is clenched as if it held a knife") Honoria [Sharply between her teeth) Killed ? Are you sure ? Anthemius [Terrified) Yes, murdered. Honoria Not merely dead, but murdered? You are sure ? Anthemius By Ildico. Honoria I never had a sister — Ildico, Ildico ! I have one now. Ildico ! [She throws up her arms^ shrieking the name^ and falls a senseless heap on the ground. Eugenius stoops to lift her) Placidia Do not touch her ; I forbid. She is no wife of yours except in name. Return to exile. [To the guard) Take her to her cell j She must be hidden. [Aery goes up on all sides without and within the palace^ Attila is dead !) 107 Works by the same Author. SIGHT AND SONG (Poems on Pictures). Printed by Constables. 400 copies. i2mo. 5s. net. STEPHANIA : a Trialogue in Three Acts. Frontis- piece, colophon, and ornament for binding designed by Selwyn Image. Printed by Folkard & Son. Pott 4to. 65. net. "We have true drama in * Stephania.* .... Stephania, Otho, and Sylvester II., the three persons of the play, are more than mere names Besides great effort, commendable effort, there is real greatness in this play ; and the blank verse is often sinewy and strong with thought and passion." — Speaker. ** * Stephania' ij striking in design and powerful in execution. It is a highly dramatic 'trialogue' between the Emperor Otho III., his tutor Gerbert, aud Stephania, the widow of the murdered Roman Consul, Crescentius. The poem contains much fine work, and is picturesque and of poetical accent. . . ." — Westminster Review. A QUESTION OF MEMORY: a Play in Four Acts. 100 copies only. 8vo. 55. Mt. Printed by R. ffolkard &> Son, »#, Devonshire Street, Bhomsbury, London, IV.C> List of Books m Belles Lettres ALL THE BOOKS IN THIS CATALOGUE ARE PUBLISHED AT NET PRICES London : Elkin Mathews, Vigo Street, W. Telegraphic Address— lo^^—^U 'Ei.cGANTiA, London.' List of Books in Belles Lettres ALL THE BOOKS IN THIS CATALOGUE ARE PUBLISHED AT NET PRICES London : Elkin Mathews, Vigo Street, W. Telegraphic Address— lO^^—QO ' Ei.ECANTiA, London.' Vigo Viatica Lector! eme^ lege^ iff gaudebis List of Books IN BELLES LETTRES (Including some Transfers) PUBLISHED BY Elkin Mathews VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. N.B. — The Authors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting any book in this list, except in cases where a stipulation has been made to the contrary, and of printing a separate edition of any of the books for America. In the case of limited Editions, the numbers mentioned do not include the copies sent for review, nor those supplied to the public libraries. The prices of books not yet published are subject to variation. The Books mentioned in this Catalogue can be obtained to order by any Bookseller. It should be noted also that they are supplied to the Trade on terms which will not allow of discount. The following are a few of the Authors represented in this Catalogue: R. D. Blackmore. Charles Lamb. Robert Bridges. P. B. Marston. Bliss Carman, William Morris. E. R. Chapman. Hon. Roden Noel. Ernest Dowson. May Probyn. Michael Field. F. York Powell. T. Gordon Hake. William Sharp. Arthur Hallam. J. A. Symonds. Katharine Hinkson. John Todhunter. Herbert P. Horne. Henry Van Dyke. Richard Hovey. Theodore Watts. Leigh Hunt. Frederick Wedmork. Selwyn Image. P. H. Wicksteed. Lionel Johnson. W. B, Yeats. The Publications of Elkin Mathews ABBorr {DR. a c). Travels in a Tree-Top. Sm. 8vo. 5^. «rf. Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Company. " Dr. Abbott p'eases by the interest he takes in the subject which he treats , . and he adorns his matter with a good English style . . . Altogether, with ita dainty printing, it would be a charming boolc to read in the open air on a bright summer's day —Athmceum. " He ha« an ob ervanteye, a warm sympathy, and a pen that enables us to see with him. Nothing could be more restful than to read the thoughts of such nature- lovers. Thevery iitTcsof hischapters-suggestquietandgentlethin^s." — Dubl'n Herald. *' A delightful volume this of Nature Sketches. Dr. Abbott writes about New England woods and streams, scenes neither quite familiar nor quite strange to us who know the same things in the old country. The severer winter makes some difference, as, for instance, in the number of birds that migrate there, but are stationary here} and there are, of course, other differences in both fauna and flora; nevertheless, we fieel in a way, at home, when Dr. Abbott takes us on one of his delightful winter or summer excursions. This ia a book which we cannot recommend too highly." — Sf*ttai»r. The Birds About Us 73 Engravings. Second Edition. Thick cr. 8vo. 5^. SJ. net. Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Company. BATEMJN {MAT). SoNNKTS AND SoNGS. With a title design by John D. Mackenzie. Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d. net. BINYON (LAURENCE). Lyric Poems, with title page by Selwyn Image. Sq. i6mo. $s. net. '*This little volume of LYRIC Poems displays a grace of fancy, a spontaneity and individuality of inspiration, and a felicitous command o( metre and diction, which lift the writer above the average of the minor singers of our time. . . We may expn." — Speaker. "'Stephania' is sti iking in design and powerful in execution. It is a highly dramatic * trialogue ' between the Emperor Otho III , his tutor Gerbert. and Stephania, the widow < f the murdered Roman Consul, Crescentius. The poem contains much fine work, and is picturesque and of poetical accent. . . ."—fVestminner Review. A Question of Memory : A Play in Four Acts. 100 copies only. 8vo. ^s. net. \^Very few remain. Attila, My Attila ! A Drama in Four Acts. With a Facsimile of Two Medals. (Uniform with Stephania). Pott 4to. 5^. net. Boston :■ Copeland ^ Day. It deals with the strange and desperate adventures of Honoria, daughter of the famous Empie s Galla Flacidia. This young princ ss may reasonably be regarded as the New Woman of the fi:ih ccnruiy, and it is from this point of view ihat Mic ael F)f Id has presented her au'^' ""'^'^y- "Among the artists who have turned poets will shortly have to be reclconcd Mr Selwvn Imaee. A volume of poems from his pen will be published by Mr. Elki» MS™b3:;e long. Those 'who are acquainted wi^ Mr. Seiwyn ^-^^J--'^ wiU expect to fiod a real aad deep poetic charm m th« book. -Datlj Chr,nkli. 12 The Publications of Elkin Mathews IMAGE {SELWYN)^continued. '* No one else could have done it (/.<., written * Poetnt and Carols ') in just this way, and the artist himself could have done it in no other way.'* *' A remarkable impress of personality, and ihis perfoiiality of singular rarity and interest. Every piece is perfectly composed ; the *' mental cartooning,' to use Rossetti's phrase, has been adequately done ... an air of grave and homely order ... a union of quaint Hnd suotly simple homeliness, with a somewhat abstract severity. ... It is a new thing, the revelation of a new poet. . . . Here is a book which may be trusted to outlive most contemporary literature." — Saturday Review. '* An intensely personal expression of a personality of singular charm, gravity, fimcifulness, and interest ; work which is alone among contemporary verse alike in regard to substance and to form . . . comes with more true novelty than anjr book of verse published in England for some years," — jithenaum. *' Some men seem to avoid fame as sedulously as the majority seekit. Mr. Selwyn Image is one of these. He has achieved a charming fame by his very shyness and mystery. His very name has a look ot having been designed by the Century Guild, and it was certainly first published in The Century Guild Hobby Horse." — The Realm. '*In the liny little volume of verse, 'Poems and Carols,' by Selwyn Image, we discern a note of spontaneous inspiration, a delicate and gracelul fancy, and considerable, but unequal, skill of versification. The Carols are skilfiil reproductions of that rather archaic form of composition, devotional in tone and felicitous in sentiment. Love and nature are the principal themes of the Poems. It is difficult not to be hackneyed in the treatment of such themes, but Mr. Image successfully overcomes the difficulty." — The limes. " The Catholic movement in literature, a strong reality to-day in England as in France, if working within narrow limits, has its newest interpretation in Mr. Selwyn Image's ' Poems and Carols.' Of course the book is charming to look at and to handle, since it is his. The Chiswick Press and Mr. Mathews have helped him to realize his design." — The Sketch. ISHAM FACSIMILE REPRINTS ^ Nos. III. and W. See Breton and Southwell. *^j* New Elizabethan Literature at the British Museum, see The Times f 31 August, 1894, also Notes and Qtieries, Sept., 1894. [By the Author of The Art of Thomas Hardy']. JOHNSON {LIONEL). Poems. With a title design and colophon by H. P. Horne. Printed at the Chiswick Press, on hand -made paper. Sq. post 8vo. 5^. net. Also, 25 special copies at 15^. net. Boston : Copeland and Day. " Full of delicate fancy, and display much lyrical grace and felicity." — Timet. ** An air of solidity, combined with something also of severity, is the first impression one receives from these pages. . . . The poems are more massive than most lyrics arej they aim at dignity and attain it. This is, we believe, the first book of verse that Mr. Johnson has published; and we would say, on a first reading, that for a first book it was remarkably mature. And so it is, in its accomplishment, iu reserve of strength, its unfaltering style. . . . Wliatever form his writing takes, it will be the expression of a rich mind, and a rare talent." — Saturday Review. Vigo Street, London, W. JOHNSON (LIONEL)-^continued. " Mr. Lionel Johnson's poems have the advantage of a two-fold inspiration. Many of these austere strains could never have been written if he had not been steeped in the most golden poetry of the Greeks; while, on the other hand, side by side with the mellifluous chanting, there comes another note, mild, sweet, and unsophisticated— the very bird-note of Celtic poetry. And then again one comes on a very ripe and affluent, as of one who has spoiled the very goldenest harvests of song of cultivated ages. . . , Mr. Johnson's poetry is concerned with lofty things and is never less than passionately sincere. It is sane, high-minded, and full of felicities." — Illustrated London Newt. "The most obvious characteristics of Mr. Johnson's verse are dignity and distinction ; but beneath these one feels a passionate poetic impulse, and a grave fiucinating music passes from end to end of the volume." — Realm. " It is at once sutely and passionate, austere, and free. His passion has a sane mood J his fire a white heat. . . . Once again it is the Celtic spirit that makes for higher things. Mr. Johnson's muse is concerned only with the highest. Her flight is as of a winged thing, that goes ' higher still and higher,' and has few flutterings near earth ' — Irish Daily Independent. JOHNSON (EFFIE). In the Fire, and other Fancies. With frontispiece by Walter Crane. Imperial i6mo. 3.^. 6(/. net. LAMB {CHARLES). Beauty and the Beast. With an Introduction by Andrew Lang. Facsimile Reprint of the rare First Edition. With 8 choice stipple engravings in brown ink^ after the original plates. Royal i6mo. 3.^. dd. net. Transferred to the present Publisher. LEGENDRE [ADAM], The Letters and Papers of. {Diversi Colores Seiies.) [In preparation. MARSON {REV. C. L). A Volume of Short Stories. \_In preparation. MARSrON {PHILIP BOURKE). A Last Harvest : Lyrics and Sonnets from the Book of Love, Edited, with Biographical Sketch, by Louise Chandler MouLTON. 500 copies. Printed by Miller & Son. Post 8vo. S^- ^^' [ Very few remain. Also 50 copies on hand-made L.P. \os. 6d. net. [ Veiy few remain. •* Among the sonnets with which the volume concludes, there are some fine examples of a form of verse in which all competent authorities allow that Marston excelled 'The Breadth and Beauty of the Spacious Night,' 'To All in Haven, * Friendship and Love,' 'Love's Deserted Palace '—these, to mention no others, have the ' high seriousness ' which Matthew Arnold made the test of true poetry. — Aibtneum. 14 The Publications of'Elkin Mathews MASON {A. E. W.). A Romance of Wastdale. Crown 8vo. ^s. 6d. net. New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company. MEYNELL (fTILFRID). The Child set in the Midst. By Modern Poets. With Introduction by W. Meynell, and Facsimile of the MS. of the "Toys" by Coventry Patmore. Royal i6mo. 3J. 6d. net. MORRIS {WILLIAM). See Gaskin. MORRISON (G. E,). Alonzo Quixano, otherwise Don Quixote: being a dramatization of the Novel of Cervantes, and espe- cially of those parts which he left unwritten. Cr. 8vo. IS. ntt. ** This play, distinguished and full of fine qualities, is a brave attempt to enrich our poetic drama, . . . The reverence shown for Cervantes, the care to preserve intact the characteristics the Spanish master lingered over so humorously, yet fo lovingly, have led Mr. Morrison to deserved and notable success." — Acadtmj. MUSA CATHOLICA. Selected and Edited by Mrs. William Sharp. [/« preparation. MURRAY (ALMA). Portrait as Beatrice Cenci. With Critical Notice containing Four Letters from Robert Browning. 8vo. 2s. net. NOEL {HON. RODEN). My Sea; and other posthumous Poems. With an Intro- duction by Stanley Addleshaw. Cr. 8vo. 2>^. 6d. net. ^^Immediately. Selected Lyrics from the Works of the late Hon. Roden Noel. With a Biographical and Critical Essay by Percy Addleshaw. Illustrated with I wo Portraits, including a reproduction of the famous picture by W. B. Richmond, K.A. \_In preparation. Vigo Street, London, W. 15 NOEL (HON. RODEN)— continued. Poor People's Christmas. Printed at the Aylesbury Press. 250 copies. i6mo. is. net. [ Very few remain. " Displays the author at his best Mr. Noel always has something to say worth saying, and his technique- though like Browning, he is too intent upon idea to besiow all due care upon form— is generally sufficient and sometimes masterly. We hear too seldom from a poet of such deep and Idndly sympathy." — Sunday Times. J J V J O' SULLIVAN (riNCENT). Poems. With a title-design by Selwyn Image. [In preparation. POWELL (F. YORK). See CORBIN. PROBYN {MAY). Pansies : A Book of Poems. With a title-page and cover design by Minnie Mathews. Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d. net. " Miss Probyn s new volume is a slim one, but rare in quality. She is no mere pretty verse maker; her spontaneity and originality are beyond question, and so far as colour md picture»quenes$ go, only Mr. Francis Thompson rivals her among the English Catholic poets of to-day." — Sketch. "This too small book is a mine of the purest poetry, very holy, and very refined, and removed as far as possible fi'om the tawdry or the common-place. ' — Irish Mmthly. " The religious poems are in their way perfect, with a tinge of the mysticism one looks fori n the poetry of two centuries ago, but so seldom meets with nowadays." — Catholic Times. " Full of a delicate devotional sentiment and much metrical felicity." — Times. RHYMERS* CLUB, THE SECOND BOOK OF THE. Contributions by E. DowsoN, E. J. Ellis, G. A. Greene, A. HiLLiER, Lionel Johnson, Richard le Gal- lienne, Victor Plarr, E. Radford, E. Rhys, T. W. Rollfstone, Arthur Symons, J. Tod- hunter, W. B. Yeats. Printed by Miller & Son. 500 copies (of which 400 are for sale). i6mo. 5^. net. 50 copies on hand-made L.P. los. 6d. net. New York : Dodd, Mead &= Co. *'The work of twelve very competent verse writers, many of them not unknown to fame. This form of publication is not a new departure exactly, but it is a recur- rence to the excellent fashion of the Elizabethan age, when ' England's Helicon,' Davison's ' Poetical Rhapsudy,' and ' Phoenix Nest,' with scores of other collections, contained the best songs of the best song-writers of that tuneful epoch."— */««* *nd. fVhitt. i6 The Publications of Elkin Mathews RHYMERS' CLUBy SECOND BOOK OF 7 HE— continued. "The future of these thirteen writers, who have thus banded themselves together, will be watehed with interest. Already there is fulfilment in their work, and there is much promise." -Speaker. "In the intervals of Welsh rarebit and stout provided for them at the* Cheshire Cheese,' in Fleet Street, the members of the Rhymers' Club have produ cd some very pretty poems, which Mr. Elkin Mathews has issued in his notoriously dainty manner." — Pall Mall Gaxette. SCHAFF (DR. P.). Literature and Poetry : Papers on Dante, Latin Hymns, &c. Portrait and Plates. lOO copies only. 8vo. ios.net. {Very few remain. SCULL {IV. DELAPLAINE). The Garden of the Matchboxes, and other Stories. Crown 8vo. "^s. 6J. ttel. \^fn preparation. SHARP (fflLLIAM). ECCE PUELLA AND OTHER PrOSE IMAGININGS. Cr. 8vo. 3 J. 6(/. net. SONG OF SONGS, WHICH IS SOLOMON'S. Twenty Drawings from designsby Althea Gyles. 4to. One Guinea net. Also 25 copies on special paper, Two Guineas net. [/n preparation. [Isham Facsimile Reprint]. S[OUrHJVELL] {R[OBERT]). A FOVREFOVLD MEDITATION, OF THE FOURE LAST THINGS. Composed in a Diuine Poeme. By R. S. The author of S. Peter's complaint. London, 1606. A Facsimile Reprint, with a Bibliographical Note by Charles Edmonds. 150 copies. Printed on hand- made paper at the Chiswick Press. Roy. i6mo. 5^. net. Also 50 copies, large paper. Js. 6d. net. Facsimile reprint from the unique fragment discovered in the autumn of 1867 by Mr. Charles Edmonds in a disused lumber room at Lamport Hall, Northants, and lately purchased by the British Museum authorities. This fragment supplies the first sheet of a previously unknown poem by Robert Southwell, the Roman Catholic poet, whose religious fervour lends a pathetic beauty to everything that he wrote, and future editors of Southwell's works will find it necessary to give it close study. The whole of the Poem has been completed from two MS. copies, which differ in the number of Sunzas. SPLENDID SHILLING SERIES. See Bin YON — Bridges. Vigo Street, London, W. 17 SYMONDS (JOHN ADDINGTON). In the Key of Blue, and other Prose Essays. With cover designed by C. S. Ricketts. Printed at the Ballantyne Press. Third Edition. Thick cr. 8vo. 8j. 6ci. net. New York : Macmillan &^ Co. " The varietv of Mr. Symonds' interests ! Here are criticisms upon the Venetian Tiepolo, upon M. Zola, upon Mediasval Norman Songs, upon Elizabethan lyrics, upon Plato's and Dante s ideals of love } and not a sign anywhere, except may be in the last, that he has more concern for, or knowledge of, one theme than another. Add to these artistic themes the delighted records of English or Italian scenes, with their rich beauties of nature or of art, and the human passions that inform them. How joyous a sense of great possessions won at no man's hurt or loss must such a man retain." — Dail^ Chronicle. " Some of the essays are very charming, in Mr. Symonds" best style, but the first one, that which gives iu name to the volume, is at least the most curious of ttte lot" — Sftaitr. ♦*The other essays are the work of a sound and sensible ciitic."— National Ohstrver. •* The literary essays are more restrained, and the prepared student will find them fill! of illumination and charm, while the descriptive papers have ±e attractiveness which Mr. Symonds alwavs gives to work in this genre."— MR. JAS. ASHCROFT NuBLE, in The Literary ff^trld. TENNYSON (LORD). See Hallam,— Van Dyke. rODHUNTER {DR. JOHN). A Sicilian Idyll. With a Frontispiece by Walter Crane. Printed at the Chiswick Press. 250 copies. Imp. i6mo. Ss.net. 50 copies hand-made L. P. Fcap. 4to. 10s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. *' He combines his notes skilfully^ and puts his own voice, so to speak, into them, and the music that results is sweet and of a pastoral tunefulness," — Speaker. " The blank verse is the true verse of pastoral, quiet and scholarly, with frequent touchc^ of beauty. The echoes of Theocritus and of the classics at large are modest and felicitous."— ^wf«-5^afi>*f«. ** A charming little pastoral play in one act. The verse is singularly gracefiil, and many bright gems of wit sparkle in the dialogues." — Literary World. <■*■ Well worthy of admiration for its grace and del cate finish, its clearness, and its compactness."— ^/bCTweam. Also the following works by the same Author transferred to the present Publisher, viz. : — Laurella, and other Poems, 5^. net. — Alcestis, a Dramatic Poem, 49. net. — A Study of Shelley, 5j-. bd. net. — Forest Songs, and other Poems, 3^. net.— Thk Banshee, 3^. net.— Helena in Troas, 2s. 6d. net. 1 8 The Publications of Elkin Mathews TYNAN (KATHARINE). See HiNKSON. VAN DYKE (HENRY). The Poetry of Tennyson. Third Edition, enlarged. Cr. 8vo. Ss. 6i. net. The aiiditions consist of a Portrai'^ Two Chapters^ and the Biblio,^raphv expanded. The Laureate himself gave valuable aid in correcting various details. "Mr. Elkiti Mathews publishes a new edition, revised and enlarged, of that excellent wo k, 'The Poetry of Tennyson,' by Henry Van Dvkc. The adiitions are considerable It is extremely interesting to go over the bibliographical notes to see the contemptuous or, at best, contemptuously patronising t ine of the reviewers in the early thirties gradually turning to civility, to a loud chorus of applause." — ^nt't-yacohin. " Considered as an aid to the study of the Laureate, this labour of love merits warm commendation. Its grouping of the poems, its bibliograpny and chronology^ its rata ogue of Biolical allusion and quotations, are eacti and all substantial accessories to the knowledge of the auttior."— DR. RICHARD GARNETT, in the Illustrated London News, JVATSON (E. H. LACON). The Unconscious Humourist, and other Essays. [/« preparation. \^Mr, Wedmoris Short Stories. New and Uniform Isstie. Croivn Svo., each Volume 3.^. 6d. net.] WED MORE {FREDERICK). Pastorals of France. Fourth Edition. CrovnTi 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. [^Ready. New Yo7'k : Charles Scribner's Sons. *' A writer in whom delicacy of literary touch is united with an almost disem- bodied fineness of sentiment." — Athtnaum. '* Of singular quaintness and beauty." — Contemporary Review. *'The stones are exquisitely told." — T^he IVorld. "Delicious idylls, written with Mr. Wedmore's fascinating command of sympathetic incident, and with his characteristic charm of style." — Illustrat.d London News. "The publication of the 'Pastorals' may be said to have revealed, not only anew talent, but a new literary genre. . . The charm ol" the writing never fails." — Bookman " In their simplicity, their tenderness, their quietude, their truthfulness to the remote lift that they depict, ' Pastorals of France ' are almost perfect."— i>«rt«lw. Vigo Street, London, W. jg WEDMORE {FREDERICK)— continued. Renunciations. Third Edition. With a Portrait by J. J. Shannon. Cr. 8vo. 3^. 6d. net. \Ready, New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. ** These are clever studies in polite realism. ' — Mhtn