©•©® University of California • Berkeley STEPHANIA This edition is limited to 250 copies. Stephania A Trialogue MICHAEL FIELD LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS & JOHN LANE AT THE SIGN OF THE BODLEY HEAD IN VIG0 STREET 1892 cAli rights reserved. La A/Iort Mon Ironie depasse toutes les autres ! La Luxure Ma col ere vaut la tlenne. La Mort C^ est ?noi qui te rends serieuse ; enla^ons-nous ! Flaubert: La tentatlon de Saint Antolne Otho III Holy Roman Emperor Gerbert (Pope Sylvester II) His Tutor Stephania a Courtesan Scene — Rome; the old Palace on Mount Aventine- Time — Three days in the January of a.d. 1002. LA MORT Mon ironie depasse touies les autres ! STEPHANIA ACT I La Mort — Mon ironie de passe toutes Us autres ! Scene — The hall of the old palace on the Aventine. To the left a throne ; at the bacf^ a loggia^ beyond which the Emperor is seen addressing the Romans, Stephania robed in white^ with a censer in her hand^ stands forth^ and hol^s to right and left. Stephania The palace is prepared, but I alone Am here as hostess to the foreign guests. So it should be ! To the invaders who Can offer welcome save the courtesan ? It is her office to diffuse strange grace About the vacant rooms, to breed the smiles Men love on joyless faces, to provide The strong incitements of the slave born free, And above all to make vice sibylline. Am I not fitted? {She stretches herself langourously at the foot of the throne^ and clasps her censer) I B Stephania There are perfumes here Full of the spices that grow old in tombs, Soft, penetrative scents that shaken out Spread poison, but are fatal being breathed By one without suspicion as in sleep. I shall keep close the secret : he will come, And sit upon his throne, and write decrees, Secure as he had many years to live. Whom I shall yet within one narrow week Watch dying of an infinite fatigue. Swing forth the censer ! Would that he were come [ (She goes toward the loggia and loof{s out) O sorry sight ! A Roman Emperor Deigns to wax eloquent, and by persuasion Has oped the city-gates : an army lies Behind him, and the Romans listen awed, Though they have been determined in revolt* This time three years ago he came to quell Another rising ; then Crescentius ruled As Consul — ay, Crescentius, my great spouse. So fervid in his love of Italy, So fixed in his ambition to restore The ancient forms of freedom to the State. Within the Castle of Saint Angelo He made a stout resistance. Finally The Emperor lured him by false promises To yield the keys, and in an hour his corpse, Swung high frcwn his own battlement, became 2 Stephania The rebels' warning. And I faced the sign, And, while men shrank away in terror, stood Waiting some signal from the tardy heavens. Some declaration of God's righteousness And power to crush the tyrant. But the sun Rose to his setting day by day, and made The same sharp shadows on the roof, the same Hand on the dial-plate : the single change I witnessed was a wavering in the lines Of the loved form before me, and this too I knew was natural, and did not blench. But tarried, waiting for the earthquake's shock To rend the palace, for the pestilence To creep among the foreigners, for death To strike the German Otho unawares While he was feasting on the Aventine. I tarried, never praying, but with faith Persistent in some miracle. One day The Emperor rode past me with a troop Of soldiers, and they pointed : ' Yonder stands Crescentius' wife.' — ' Ay, take her to the camp,' He answered carelessly, then turned to speak With Gerbert of Ravenna, his dear friend And tutor, of the monkish discipline Grown lax of late ; and I was borne away To degradation. Passive from the first I yielded to my ravishers, and when They left me fell to musing my revenge. 3 B-2 Stephania I was too weak at first to apprehend The mysteries beyond the knowledge forced Upon me, and I wandered 'mong the hills For solitude : then slowly in my heart There swelled the pressure of a secret joy As in their magic fountains I beheld My form still beautiful, and recognised The power of retribution in myself. Then sacred grew my agony, my shame, Sacred my beauty, sacred the strange arts I found myself endowed with, as the child Of a great craftsman is endowed with skill To handle unfamiliar instruments ; And I divined with gratitude and awe That while the earth went her accustomed way, And while the sun Twisted sharp shadows on the roofs, and while The same hand pointed on the dial-plate. My heart was being fitted for a deed That should bring honour back to Italy, Great honour back to my Crescentius' name, And glory to my womanhood. I dwelt Apart, I nursed my beauty to its old. Yea, more than olden lustre, for my body Grew bright in exultation as a shield Fresh-burnished, and my hardihood of youth Returned. I have vitality to spread Consuming langours and a callousness 4 Stephania To make those tremble who can suffer hurt. (She watches the approach ofOruo and GerbertJ The Emperor scarce looks older than the day He passed Crescentius' gibbet ; by his side Is Gerbert, the new pontiff, the audacious Monk, who unfrocked himself to learn in Spain The Moors' delicious wizardy, who plants His hopes in politics, who seeks to rouse Kings to the rescue of the Holy Tomb. He has, men say, great eloquence, a rich. Persuasive tongue. {With sudden fury) Pope John had his cut out ! The man my husband lifted into power I have seen hurried through the Roman streets Blind, mutilated, set upon an ass. It must not be forgotten ! Though in art | The method may be imperceptible That lays arresting touches on the lips. Then locks them fast ; although these bosom-friends. As a young, married pair, make interchange Of counsel and of fondness, one of them Must watch the other mute in his decay. The twain are doomed ; and I behind this column Shall see them take possession of their fates. {^She glides out of sight as Otho and Gerbert enter ^ with Roman nobles and a German guard about them, The Emperor throws down his shield by the column that hides Stephania; he taf{es off his crowned helmet^ and 5 Stephania stands' before his subjects^ his long^fair hair spreading out in ripples round his head) Otho (To the Romans) Now Rome is truly Rome, she is herself The world's wide providence. We will prevail To turn her memories to reality, Her hopes to consummation. O believe The things that ye were born for from this hour Shall find fulfilment. I embrace your past, Breathe over it and pray : it will revive. It must, if you are faithful, for I honour All your traditions from the Sibyl's gift Of counsel on her palm-leaves to the laws Threaded by great Justinian. And the Church, ■ Christ's charge to His Apostle, I, His servant, Freely a^id firmly in authority Will stablish o'er men's souls. Think, Romans, think Of all that I inherit and combine y Think of the fiery heart in me, and bid ^^ My crown of knighthood triumph. Gerbert Pass before The Emperor, he is gracious to receive Your forfeited allegiance, and retire [ (The Romans do homage sullenly^ and pass out. At a sign from the E?nperor his soldiers withdraw to the loggia) Otho The multitude is gone, the pageantry. Gerbert And you are lord of Rome. 6 Stephania Otho Of Rome, of this Reluctant, prostrate people. In my dream I kindled and expressed them, I was theirs : Gerbert, is this the end ? I travelled far, So far for this attainment, and it lies Dwarfed, circumscribed about me, I recoil. To think that there should be such emptiness When one sits down to feast ! Stephania [Apart^ stretching forth her neck eagerly) What is this mood ? The conqueror^s satiety ? How well He knew his mind three years ago, and now A wide-spread restlessness is on his face ; He is no longer curious. I must wait. And learn what has befalPn him. Otho Presently, They say, the fig-tree withered when the breath Of holiness had cursed it, Stephania {Apart) Marked, O doomed ! Who is it that hath put a brand on him. While I was absent ? To the sacrifice The oxen should be brought full-feeding, smooth Of skin, not sick'ning nor incapable. Gerbert My son, you are witholding from my love Some intimate, sealed grief j for I have known Strong melancholy sweep across your soul, A singing whirlwind — not this weariness. What ails you ? 7 Stephania Otho (Turning bitterly towards the throne) Is it not a royal seat ? How many things belong to me — the north. The south, where winter is and where the sun ! I cannot now look round on anything That is not mine. I have estranged myself From Saxon, German — yea, my very blood- To mingle with these Romans. Italy ! It breaks my heart but to conceive the wrath I nurse in store for her revolted sons. The legions I would pour out on her plains To trample her ! I would exterminate Whatever has proved stubborn to my love ; And yet the armies that I summon pass So wan before me that I know they are Mere visions, and their martial music such As may be heard at funerals. You harness My soul to the impossible ; I run Wildly across a waste that has no goal. Spurred on by your ambition. To excite My love of fame you urged me to the quest Of Charlemagne's tomb ; and now you see me raised Like him a Roman Emperor, but like him I sway a vacant kingdom. How sublime He sat erected on his mural throne ! The unstained hair was curling round the brows, I think, was growing still ; but the sunk eyes Were sealed away from me— I dared not break 8 Stephania Their sepulchre ; the sombre guardian lids Repulsed me, and I fell down, prone, diffused, Across the open coffin into which His feet had disappeared. (Turning fiercely to Gerbert) This is the Empire That you have called me to. I brought this cross Away from him, and hung it round my neck 5 It seems a theft and no investiture. For all that I attempt is scorned of God. To think how in your blindness you misguide. How you deceive me ! For Crescentius' death. . Stephania (Apart) Crescentius [ Otho I indeed have made amends The petty way you counselled. Gerbert (Imperiously) And the past Is blotted out. Otho Not so — O agony !• It is supreme. This penitence you thought Would put away the memory of my sin Has magnified and made it monstrous, driven My soul to pace as sentinel before — As common sentinel, By day and night before Saint Angelo. Will nothing stir me from that moment, nothing Cut off that vision ? Stephania (Apart) Nay, as on a gem Memory can grave. 9 Stephania Otho I have plunged deep in wars, Have summoned councils, and at Pavia kept The Holy Christmastide 'mid sound of bells And chaunt of clergy, yet my guilt remains, Increases day by day, and perfects me— I feel it — for damnation. Oh unjust. For one immense impatience to be damned ! [He covers his face ^ sobbing : Gerbert stands silent with wonder) Stephania {Apart) This man is full of fears j he thinks he walks Close, to the brim of hell ; but I shall rise From its mid-gulfs of mire immaculate Who am devoted to these crimes, can bear To front and look on them as unappalled As martyrs by the lions' moving dens. Gerbert You sinned in haste 3 God hath put by your sin. Otho [Looking up passionately) While I am ruling in Crescentius' place ? Stephania [Jpart) Watched by Crescentius' wife ? Otho Wearing the power Crescentius wore, and worse than all fulfilling His rival dream ? But I am disabused. To Romuald of Saint-Emmeran I confessed A month ago. Gerbert A hard, morose, old man. Of narrow range and habit, solitary, 10 Stephania And bent on bringing those to solitude The Church requires for action. Otho The great firs About Ravenna — Gerhert Did you seek his grot As any common pilgrim ? Otho It was noon Before I reached his cavern in the hill, Before I came upon the rocky ledge Where he had propped his parchments. All my blood Seemed floviring from me, and I heard the twang Of the cicalas till I only thought How many sounded forth their noise of heat, When suddenly he saw me : in his arms I told him of my wickedness, I prayed That he would give me penance, and a little I must have lost myself, for when I woke I recollected what a disc of light His tonsure was, and lay in apathy Although his voice, loud through the softening beard^ Commanded me to put away my crown. My state and every hope, if I would live. If I were honest. The whole sunny day I sat and Hstened to his prayer or silence As if I had been ill. When evening came He bade me dip his pitcher in the fountain Some distance oiF; I took it with a smile. And smiles came to me from his countenance II Stephania That sped me happy. As I dipped the crock Two eremites drew near to watch me fill. Both curious, shrunk and hard, but one of them — Gerbert, one of them was young. I fled, Nor spoke a word to Romuald as we supped. Nor prayed as we lay down, but flung my mantle For softness on the broken floor, and breathed As though I had been sleeping till I slept. All night he lay upon the stones. A touch Woke me at last between my eyes that opened To see the saint's mouth clingingly withdrawn. And record of such love about his lids 1 could not bear to think of: as we kissed I knew my mother's love was further off Than this old man's from God. Beneath his passion Almost I yielded . , . but the breeze was strong ; In the cold brightness ere the sun was risen I thought of how my army to the trumpet Replied with life ; an eagle on the sky Went past ; I snatched my toga from the floor. And then there was no colour to be seen Throughout the earthy dwelling-place. I broke A crust, I tried to drink beneath those brows Planted above me, till in fear I rose As if to go : he asked me of my choice. But in my face he found not what he sought. I strove, I parried, I implored, I made Wavering conditions : — did I enter Rome 12 Stephania I would return, put by the purple, take The cowl ; and Romuald bent his eyes on me, Condemning and excluding while he yearned, And told me I should never pass the gates Of Rome, once entered, but should surely die In a brief while. And it is endless death ! How different the process that men dread, The death that is a falling of the leaves Earthward across the wind, a running out Of shallow waters that have spent themselves, A diminution and a change, whereby Effacement is accomplished step by step. From this most hideous destiny, so raw, So sudden and offensive. . . . God, O doom, endless years of fiery penalty ! 1 dare not think of what it were to live Chained up from shaping forth my eager thoughts. Cut from the future and my gifts to it — Ah me, the world, the world ! — condemned to go Forth from my shining camp, and from the hopes. The enterprise, and monuments of men. To bare obscurity ... that small, bleak cell, The cenobite's restrictive lip — and yet The sense that he is right ! I left his door. And spake no word of what had been, but swift As in the rush of onslaught sped my army 13 Stephania Across the land to Rome. Tears dashed my eyes ; The night was just a time to give them vent, A privacy for weeping. To resign War, empire, poHtics, the subtle arts Of learning, and fall back on ignorance. . • . Gerbert Would be unworthy. Caesar, I am stern To this forsaking of your higher self, This superstition cast across the brightness Of your divine intelligence. Your mother Gave you her purest Grecian blood, you are Emperor august of Rome, more than the rival Of Greeks and Romans by your eloquence. Your courage: you have learning, loftiness. Great powers of meditation ; and in you The waiting nations of the north and south Look for such restoration of their state As Virgil sang when in the grave of Dis, Filling the air with prophecy. Otho Ah, so, Death always ! From the kingdom of the Shades He brake into prediction. From my lips Start words and promises that in my heart I know will tarry for fulfilment long. Long after I have perished. Is it not A sign that one is dying when one sees The coming ages clear as in a glass ? I am already stricken. Stephania {Apart) We must bind 14 Stephania The brows of death with roses : his distaste Shall grow into a fatal servitude And waiting on her pleasures with desire. Otho I will return, I will go back to him. Gerbert Back through the gates of Rome ? Is he ; Pope, Can he give absolution ? You forget That our authority protects you even From the remorse of conscience. But how much There is you have forgotten ! How events Combine to sadden me, and — ah ! — how wise The wisdom of my enemies who said My age would be embittered ! You forget- But that I pardon ; my fidelity Stretches for generations past your years — How I have rescued you from greedy foes, Guided by craft and menace your estate. And in your childhood gathered for the rein Of your young hand the stormy peoples pressed Together by your grandsire's biting sword. Your mind took then no impress ; but the day That you became my pupil, , . . Otho Must remain Imperishably blest. Arithmetic ! — Gerbert, those first discourses on the order Of numbers, on the primal covenant God made with them, the symbols of His thought. From which all wonders of geometry, X5 Stephania And music's magic, and the course of stars Depend— so solemnly you lessoned me In the quadrivium^ I have made essay Of every art and power in relevance To a determined harmony. You came To me a moody, dreaming child, presented The abacus to handle, gave me knowledge, Taught me no chronicle, but played about The past, as summer lightning. You abhorred At my wild prayer my Saxon rudeness, rescued The Greek within me from rusticity, From northern clouds. Gerbert Which hover and will fall. Most glorious Otho, on your mind, once more Dimming its fair distinction, if you give Your German nature range — those qualities You prayed me to abhor in you, which I Abhor. With Gallic transport I perceived The Grecian gifts you called me to confirm. To part from promptings of romance, vague scruples. Contrition, and disquiet. An hour ago Your voice flowed on in oratory expressing The light that had been with you in your wars, That makes your empire prevalent, yourself The wonder of the world. But you are lost, Found as a fool incapable of faith, Incapable of gratitude. Otho Beloved, i6 Stephania Is it so little to create one's friend The head of Christendom, to find a man Loving like you the past, loving the science And mystery of things ? Gerhert Who fled the cloister, And at Cordova in the schools became The pupil of the Saracens. O wondrous The liberation ! As the gift of fire To men, the gift of science to the Church. If you esteemed her, if the Papacy Were veritable empire, what He judged Who said I am a King^ and gave the keys Into S. Peter's charge, we could begin So much together. Inexpressible What glory, what divineness could be shown ! And you put by the opportunity. And leave the world to ignorance and shame, Whom I with so much pains taught to ascend The shadowed realms of wisdom. Otho [Abstractedly) I would give My treasure, my blue-starred dalmatica To show him that I am not covetous, That I am willing to enrich the new. Fair churches that they build who still have hope. If he might be persuaded Gerhert [With rising^ hut controlled^ passion) Then your aim In visiting the shrines, burdening the troops' 17 Stephania With transport of rare chalices and bones From distant crypts, hath been but to appease That ancient pagan way by sacrifice One who . . . but, stay, I will not question it, I will not ask where you should put your trust. You yield these offerings to the Church — tomorrow I will receive them : we will bear together Your coronation chlamys as a gift To your great martyred friend— Otho My Adalbert, Whose spirit clung about me night and day, And with sweet words persuaded me to love My fatherland. Through fasting and through prayers What comfort we received, from heavenly shapes What prompting ! You remember afterward. As he fared forth to bless unfriended men. Thankless on foreign coasts, how in a dream Gaudentius, his companion, saw a cup Golden, half-full of wine, and stooped to drink. But was forbidden, being told by one About the altar that the cup was poured For Adalbert, who pondered on the dream. And in the green woods met his martyrdom Next day with joy and singing. Gerbert Where he fell The heathens are untaught ; and there are youths Ready in Samland to lay down their lives. Whom I will consecrate. You must not sigh, i8 Stephania And give me this sick answer. I am old, And of the past in body; but my soul Goes forth to you, to the fresh cycles governed By your desirous visions ; if you fail, For me it simply must remain to die, Who in your blessed empire found the sight Sweetest to look on among human things. (Otho bends over and softly caresses Gerbert, looking forth with a gaze of steadfast despair) Otho O aged, holy eyes, give me your dew. Weep over me, your tears are benison ! I could not leave the world, I did not give The Saint the vo^» s he sought for. I remain Blind, indeterminate. I am grown old In one short month ; I see my life no more Golden before me, but a length of days Processional and ghastly : one by one I mark them as they pass, they all are mine. Weep over me and pray ! I take this cross, Charlemagne's own cross, so glorious in presage ; I kiss and press it to my breast, and yet My eager prayer grows hollow. Pray, beloved ! I would be Emperor of the Universe, {Unseen^ Stephania comes forth at her full height from behind the column. She advances slowly till her form almost overshadows the E?nperor) Stephania {Apart) Ay, truly; but Death dominates the world ! The mountains burst in crevices of ice 19 C-2 Stephanta Or flame, the quivering forests wail for her. And the sea surges into wasteful wrath Of ebb and flow because it cannot die : All things dread death, or sigh for her, or sue ; None can be unconcerned. She brought this youth Curious to Charlemagne's tomb ; and of a sudden, As that composed and perfect majesty- Fell back, and left the golden ornaments Glittering across the dust, he shall fall back, His power shall wane. {Their eyes meet; she turns and looks out over Rome) O Italy, infect This man with every poisonous influence From marsh and sun and burning atmosphere. From subtle, treacherous beauty and from love ! (Otho gently raises Gerbert and directs his gaze towards Stephania) Otho Who is this woman ? Gerbert As the harlotry She stands, we come to trample. Otho {Catching Gerbert's arm) Oh, a muse ! Her foot is planted firm, she contemplates ; Methinks she has grown weary watching us So blind in our debate, and turned aside At last J her eyes bend dominant on Rome. Gerbert Some messenger, or one who hath a suit. Otho A figure from the Gods it had been said By them of earliest time. Her head is crowned 20 Stephania With crest of dazzling feathers. Gerbert, how The silky plumes mix with her brazen hair ! And do you note the deep curves of her chin Pushed up against the propping knuckles ? Speak f She turns to us — to you. Gerbert [To Stephania) Who may you be ? Stephania Rome, and you are her conquerors j Rome that waits Upon your pleasure. [She bows herself) Gerbert Daughter, tremble not ; Our office is to save and purify, To lift from degradation. Stephania You are changed, And you may change again : as night and day Are men in crime and virtue. I have seen A Pope led bleeding through the streets of Rome, Dumb, blinded, a wine-bladder on his head In token of derision. This was done By a great Emperor fervent for the Church ; Yet haply he may fall again as low As in the sin for which his penitence Has been accepted. Gerbert Our most gracious lord Has made atonement in a pilgrimage Of sore humiliation for his too Excessive rigour to usurping John. Stephania Now he exalts the righteous, sets on high Gerbert the true Archbishop ; Rome may now 21 Stephania Count on a hearing of her wrongs, may even Lift herself slowly from the miseries In which she has been sunk, and claim the aid Of those whose office, as you say, it is To purify and succour. I have been Wronged like my Italy, and she forgives. {To Otho) Have not her nobles kneeled and kissed your feet ? [Kneeliiig) I too kneel down, I swear to be to you Most faithful : I will never leave you — never ! You find your subjects slow ? These Romans, sire, Have many things to dream on, but their dreams Can never come to pass. They are not young Like the Barbarians j after long depression They hear of liberty and nobleness A little languidly. They are not young ; They marvel when they hear from lips the down Has scarcely covered of a world renewed. Forgive them ! But to me your energy Is beautiful, for some time in my youth Great hopes possessed me. {She rises fro?n her knees ^ her long mantle falls ^ and she appears half uncovered before them) Otho {Apart) Can there be such gold In women's breasts ? Is she a courtesan Who stands intrepid as a prophetess. And through her eyes' clear amber searches me ? {To Stephania) Whose child are you ? 22 Stephania Stephania {To Gerbert) Should he not ask whose wife ? {To Otho) I have no parentage ; all that I am You see. When Rome last ope'd her gates, the hour That her great Consul fell, I ceased to be Myself; they bore me to the common hall Of Teuton soldiers, and I issued thence As altered as the Pythoness from fumes Of Delphi's chasm . . . for I possessed the worli A hush falls on you. In my womanhood I was a poet. {To Gerbert) Can you exorcise And rid me of my perilous distraction If I attend you daily in your cell ? Gerbert O lady, haply after many prayers. Stephania {To Otho) Although I have been wronged at your command In years gone past, naw, since the time is changed, I crave protection from your soldiery Of you who cast me to them. Otho God be witness I have no least remembrance of such thing, No spot of it, no token. You are lovely. Are lovely, but unknown. What is your name ? Stephania I was the consort of Crescentius when? Three years ago you beat against our gates. And nothing has been happening to me since : The soldiers took me from Saint Angelo Where you had ordered they should hang his body Over the battlement. It is a void ^3 Stephania I pass through. You have had experience — yea, Doubtless encountered much fresh enterprise, Adventure, and misfortune, hoped and prayed. Loved and been loved again. I know how full And visionary is a young man's Hfe ! And now you have attained all you desire ; You rule where once Crescentius ruled, you set A Pope in place of him Crescentius chose. You have Crescentius' wife within your power To use at pleasure. Otho Had he then a wife ? Stephania He had till she survived her purity, And others had divorced her from her faith : He has no widow. Otho Yet you can forgive ? Have you more mercy than the heavens vouchsafe ? Listen, if you have patience ! When I sinned Against my soldier's promise, and against The clemency I love, I was but scarce Eighteen, and in mere boyish ruthlessness I never thought of pain, nor of the reach Of what I ordered — of Crescentius' wife Nor child 3 not even of God's beholding face. Of my degraded knighthood, of the Church Indignant at my cardinal offence : All was forgotten that victorious day When I beguiled your husband to his death. Gerbert Our lord has wept and fasted for his sin 24 Stephania As few so noble would. If you desire Peace in your breast, do not provoke in his The torment of the past, that self-contempt That is so deadly when a man is young. Otho Gerbert, you shall not think of me, before This beautiful, wronged woman. [To Stephania) You have asked Protection ; my imperial word I pledge . , . God, there is no security for you In my imperial word ! . . . but by the vows That one day I shall take in penitence, I swear no harm shall touch you ; in my court You shall be treated as a princess, service Of honourable splendour shall be yours ; My wealth is your possession. Gerhert Lady, this Is youth's unripe repentance : you who know The dignity of wrongs, upon whose cheek Asperities of sorrow may be seen By older eyes than his, can estimate The value of such comfort. Stephania How you read My bosom's deep conclusions ! {To Otho) I accept Your offer ; to the palace I will come As handmaid, not as princess : it may give Caesar a sense of mutability In greatness to look on while I attend 25 Stephania In the old Roman manner, as some slave — His prize in war, filling the wine cup, spreading The coolness of soft perfume through the rooms, If he remember whence I fell, and what I am — no ghost, a creature of warm blood, Banished all lovely offices of life. Having no tears to shed, with no regrets, Remaining merely as a monument Contending hosts have clashed against, that stands Erect amid the carnage of the plains* Otho Lady, is this your will ? Stephania I have a name, Stephania ; there is none in all the camp But knows it ; I have nothing of my own. And yet I would not have you think of me Through any recollection : I am but The death's head at your feast to sober you In your distracting plenitude of power. Otho Stephania ! Stephania No, my lord, you must not speak In this low voice. All you can do for me If my state touches you, is to reflect My only ease is perfect lethargy. You take me to your household, offer me The shelter of your roof — it is enough. ( With a deep reverence she goes out) Otho {Laughing hollowly) Crescentius — ha! We are well rid of him ! 26 Stephania He will no more offend us. O befooled, To dash a traitor from the battlements, Then think the act had damned us ! Ignorance Alone can damn, some huge and floundering crime That smacks of chaos. Did I know her name ? fe The little light behind, the little light Before, we call the past and future, seem No more a revelation. She illumed Wide worlds and for a moment, as a flame That dances on the ruin it destroys. I could not look on death? It would have been More simple, for this woman summoned up Such fantasies, such horror, such detail Of deeds that I have never done, of thoughts Strange to me, summoned them as memories. That all I have to do is now to reap What I have never sown. Damnation is No more a thing that can be brought to pass. Shrunk from, escaped ; time has no hold on it. There is no access to it. I am damned. Damned in my very destiny. Gerbert And therefore Redemption was begun, not on the cross. But deep in God's conception, deep in doom. My son, we look back through creation's six Most beauteous days to chaos, but before The world was fashioned there was Providence : In the most ancient realms of thought the word 27 Stephania Lay in God's bosom ; therefore do the schools Concern themselves with logic, to trace back The love of Calvary to its source in One Who had not yet dissevered night from day. Nor gathered from the starry depth the stars. Otho Love there — across the dreary infinite, Love in the lone beginning ? — but for v^hom, For me the spoiler, or for her the spoiled ? If anything can ease my agony It is that by heaven's mercy I at last Have knov^rledge of the compass of my crime, And can at last atone — at last — to her. Who lives and may be comforted, made soft As other women. Could I see her smile. Or droop her eyes, or flush a little round The temples ! Nothing in her countenance Has the least change nor tremour ; she is like A spirit sealed fast in the second Death In which is no corruption. Do you think That there can be abatement of her grief ? Gerbert Within the cloister, after many days Of cleansing and of penance. Otho Did you say The cloister, and for her ? O horrible ! And I deserve its horrors. She has done No wrong, and you design to shut her up, A jewel, in the darkness ? I can scarce Conceive it possible how any woman 28 Stephania Consents to part with her strong, flashing hair, To swathe her deHcate and beautiful Young limbs in sackcloth. But three months ago Sophia, my sole sister, slipt away From Gandersheim, and with a mutinous Band of girl-novices made haste to court. I met them to reprove, but when they raised Their veils of white, and when I saw the clear, Deep crimson of their shaded cheeks, I swore That they should live in freedom ; and that day There was a music as of chaunting souls About the palace, and the air was full Of flowers. Gerhert Be not so wanton ! You have sinned Against Crescentius, and your sin hath been Remitted; but the baffled devil lurks About to tempt you in Crescentius' wife. Otho You misinterpret. Gerhert She is beautiful; No apparition such as comes at night To monks in fevered slumber — calm and strong, Solid and queenly. Otho Oh, of further reach Her mystical, marred beauty ! She is sacred. More terrible than in virginity ; My victim, yet — O God ! — as Rome herself Is deemed my victim, Rome that I shall raise Into a Commonwealth. 29 Stephania Gerhert [Drawing him toward the loggia) Think not of her. Stand forth and face the city ! It was thus We stood together, my beloved, thus Waiting the day of judgment, on the eve Of the Millenium : the sun declined How slowly on the verge ; in a great host The stars shone forth ; there was no omen, nought To terrify : and when the morning dawned In simple white and rose we wept for joy, And kissed the earth and still wept silently When the hosannas of the multitude Clashed up to us because the world was saved, Otho That was two years ago. Gerhert As yesterday I think of it {Turnings he gazes over the city and sighs). Otho {Apart) The marvel of her skin ! No cloud with gold in it and bosomed rain E'er mixed so wonderful a dusk. Gerhert [Approaching suddenly) Remember To-morrow you must lay Justinian's Laws Into the judges' hands. ... I shall not sleep; There is no wakefulness like that of night, So penetrative and so keen, the mind Has then her true creative right to part The elements of thought, distributing To each its term. Otho [Looking out) What clarity of air 30 Stephania Above the roofs, what magic in the rims Of the low purple hills ! It is a land To press against one's heart. O Gerbert, leave me ; The beauty is too much. A sense of ruin Comes over me at sight of such a sky, So soon to close in darkness. Search the stars, Look deep into my destiny; so strange A languor creeps upon me, I could say Those powers that breed within a man's own breast The very mood and temper of his fate Move noiselessly within. More deeply search My doom, and I will pray — O wonderful ! — Against the rhythmic heavens — Gerbert That I shall watch. 31 LA LUXURE Ma colere ^vaut la tienne 33 Stephania ACT II La Lux u re — Ma colere 'vaut la tienne. Scene — The same hall of the old palace. To the right a table strewn with scientific instruments : to the left an altar : at the foot of the crucifix skulls^ jewels^ hroidered vestments^ fragments of bones ^ and part of a skeleton propped against a reliquary ^ burning with gems, Stephania enters^ simply dressed^ with a basket and pruning knife in her hand. She gives a hasty glance toward Gerbert^ who is reclining asleep in a chair richly wrought; then opens a shutter: the sun strikes across the shrine. Stephania Science, and learning, and the crucifix ! The Emperor hath been here upon his knees, Unlocking coffers, or with duteous lip Kissing the dusty jewels of the dead. No speech has passed between us ; as I served In silence by the altar, laid a skull Beside this burning topaz, wrapt the jaws Of eloquent S. Just in folds of silk — ^5 D-2 Stephania He bent his eyes more close in scrutiny Of the mosaic circles on the floor, Until I moved away. It is not gold That is omnipotent, nor holiness That gives its gold : I am omnipotent ; And if I still am busy with my herbs, And watch the blowing of untoward flowers Ere I express my poisons, I abandon No tittle of my purpose. The old Pope Is sleeping in the heat of afternoon ; But I may break his privacy — this hour He gave me for confession. If I ring His heavy crosier sharp against the stones. The shock may startle him to consciousness. {^She lays down her basket and knife in the shadow. She advances as she throws the crosier to the ground) Gerbert [Waking of a sudden) The stars are adverse . . . from some evil dream I am aroused. Can Romuald read the stars, And thrust his sickle into destiny ? Hath Romuald learning? [Perceiving Stephania) What, from Babylon You come — I cannot recollect the dream— And such confusion from the golden light. It was the treasure dancing in the sun That scared and dizzied me, for I perceive You are Stephania Stephania, — and I must believe 36 Stephania The seven deadly sins make in my breast Their common lair, or men less fearfully Would eye me as I pass ; but you will count The list of my transgressions, will assign My fitting penance, and procure me peace. Gerbert Ay, presently ; yet I am much to blame That I delay the hearing of your griefs. Come to me . . . but that hour the catacomb Of Severus is unsealed, Stephania The Emperor O'er-tasks you. He is young. Gerbert Hour after hour I have stood by apportioning his gifts, Lauding his zeal ; at sight of all these gems His face filled with a lovely joyousness. He sees not what I suffer. Stephania Holy Pope, I kneel and make avowal that I share Your sorrow : as I waited in this hall Last evening, with no courage to advance, Yet stubborn with despair, I heard a secret Pass between him and you. I may not speak Of what I suffered —women use their pain To find the pain of others. As I listened, Crescentius died once more, and once again Hope left my pulse ; then steadily I fathomed The trouble in your heart. Such youth, such glory Shut in a wasteful dungeon, and the world 37 Stephania Left ruining for one repented sin ! And yet I cannot doubt your friend will live If he have joy and freedom, if you foster In him all seeds of royalty. Gerbert By arts I know not of he must be v^eaned from him Who hath estranged us, from the cursed monk. Stephania From Romuald of S. Emmeran? Gerbert You divine — A creature skilled to blemish and deflower. Ravenna's piny rock is as the mouth Of hell to me. Stephania And as a demon thence I have been chased with execration. When The Germans, trooping to the northern war, Left me to die in a deserted camp, I found myself beneath the hermit's knoH By penitents and pilgrims wound about. And in my great forlornness drew one day Close to his feet and kissed them. With sharp cries, As he were bitten by a serpent's fang. He scourged, he tore me — but my speech ofFends. How different from you who give me help. Who suffer me in sight of holy things. Gerbert There is no chastity in solitude. No pity where the footsteps are not thick. No hope that is not selfishness conceived 38 Stephania Where there are none to succour or exalt. Your story moves my anger. From your knees Rise! [He lifts her) You have borne great woe: I would not judge you Without prolonged, excessive mindfulness Of all the evil chances of the lot That wove your actions. Let the Emperor know That Romuald shamed you thus. Stephania Till he abhor As I the miscreant. You have set your love, I fear, on one of little gratitude, If it be possible he so can doubt Your power to bind and loose, he constitutes A freakish monk disposer of his fate. The world rings with the story of your zeal For Otho's house — yet, pardon, holy father. Your handmaid in her waiting misery Alone hath comprehended with what passion It urges, it consumes you. I believed The man you love my foe ; but he is young. And would repair the past. The man you hate I have firm heart to injure : if he triumph. The lovely, royal head on which you dote — Gerbert O woman, hush ! You have surprised my love By fine intelligence of what it is. The reach of its desire, its nether depths Of insatiety. 39 Stephania Stephania [Settling her raiment) And from a child You fixed your heart on him ? Gerbert Although the boy- Would leave me for a falcon or a dog ; Though on the day he started, scarce fifteen, To travel southward for his holy crown, He chafed at my embrace. When we were severed, My soldier in the camp, I in the schools. What messages, what tokens, what remorse Pursued me ! It is insupportable To breathe beside him with the consciousness That he is growing alien — whom I love With such constriction of the heart my prayers Grow ruddy as with life-blood at his name. Who is my dream incarnate, half my God. Stephania You shall not lose him. We must bind his soul By some great vow that in solemnity Outweighs the trembling promise to the monk. Exert your full authority, assume S. Peter's very style, and summon him To arms as a crusader. Gerbert It is said I cannot die till in Jerusalem I celebrate the mass. Does that portend We shall combine one day in battle fields. With glittering armies to exterminate, Such as he dreamed of when he used to push 40 Stephania His tiny fists up in his hair until They met in a clenched band about his brow. When I bent down to tell of Lucifer, And all the spotted splendour of that field Where pride was in dishonour ? Stephania From his cave The foul recluse will peer. A troop of kings, Young warriors in their prime, shall pass him by With laughter on their lips and insolence Of faith in uncontrolled prosperity ; The hermit shall retire to private prayer Among his vermin, and the world be saved. Gerbert [Nervously beginning to handle his papers) S. Peter's very style ! There have been letters Of this great quality before — Stephania [Wiping her brows with a richly-perfumed handkerchief) And think Of all the East would be to him, the warm. Sweet women in their veils ? But you are sick. Gerbert Leave me awhile. Stephania, I am old And fevered, at the very end of life ; And the long journey, all the blazing track About the desert, where the sun stands still. Affright me : I shall faint upon the road ; And yet he never must set forth alone. Stephania [Scanning him more narrowly), Your eyes are as numb sentinels that keep 41 Stephania Their post and do not watch. Such vigilance Will end soon in vacuity and death. You have too heavy cares. Would you but drink A potion I could press from certain herbs, You were secure until the century, The new-born century itself were old. I know Campagna's countless fields of flowers, When they will bud, when drop — what juicy stalks Will lift men up from languishment. Refused The comfort of the cloister, I am fain To rove, and joy to seek in loneliness For balsams on the hills. The ranker air Of the low, burning marshes I can breathe Unhurt ; I have no scruple and no fear, Therefore my knowledge is of quality At once most secret and most terrible. Gerbert You move me — Stephania To a curiosity Perchance, but to no credence. [Flinging herself round Gerbert* s knees) Holy Pope, You came not to my Italy to crush And trample ; you would raise my Romans up, And under your dominion, should you live. The Emperor, coldly worshipped yesterday. Will be beloved, beneficent. Consent To let me be your leech, and, while you mock And disregard me, you will feel your powers Press to expansion as the buds in spring. 42 Stephania Gerbert Go, fetch your cordial. [Exit Stephania) For I cannot die, And leave him to be sucked up by the fiend. Ah, could this woman — with what sway of grace She moved — revive in me the mysteries Of youth, revive my spirit's sunken-fires; As sometime hath been seen by unforetold And sudden inrush of some energy The mazy goings of the world are broken And- thrown into new issues : if I might Endure on earth for the next hundred years, Who have divined so deeply, who have still So much to proffer ; for to be the thing One dreams, a man, a parent, or a Pope, Is but to find oneself at last in ken Of a beginning, feeble from the birth, And full of strange, initiatory pangs : If in the future one could win the right Of learning that wide way that draws its secret From every science, as its property Is drawn from herb and rock ! These ornaments Would purchase a whole text of Cicero From far Scriptoria: but the boy I love Is still a rank barbarian, and for him There must be magic, there must be the East. [Otho enters^ wearing his coronation cloak) Otho How beautiful are gifts, how beautiful Is reparation ! I am full of joy, 43 Stephania For Rome is growing statelier, the red steeples Are mixing with the cypresses ; S. Paul's, The cloisters of S. John of Lateran Are rising from the ground with marble shafts In banded couples : and the reliquaries Are richer than the churches ; from the rock Of the obscurest catacombs and from The hot sides of Soracte, holy bones Are parted by my zealous ministers. Gerbert, it surely is a better way Of doing penance to enrich the world Than to make poor one's spirit and deform One's span of life, I will not for myself Keep any wealth, not even this glorious cloak Traced with the whole Apocalypse in gold On blue, 'mid sprinkled stars, where I can count. For they are on my breast, the jewelled stones Of the great city, New Jerusalem — Jasper, and sapphire, and chalcedony. Green chrysoprase, and every gate a pearl ; Or where in sombre dyes I find the place Of the seven woes, one hidden in the clasp. One disappearing in this silken fold. The angels stand superb of stature, here Low fiends revolt, and here the Woman rides Triumphantly in scarlet. Let us take My coronation chlamys in our hands, And lay it on the tomb of Adalbert, 44 Stephania Praying my friend to look upon my grief, And cover my transgression. [Coming closer) You are busied With many papers. Is there anything Among them from Ravenna ? Gerbert Nothing. Otho Once I cut away the strings so hurriedly. Knowing a scroll brought comfort from my well- Beloved Archbishop ; but I dread the sight Of Romuald's hand. If I could only rest From thought of him ! Gerbert He shall not trouble you. Otho In this wide, burning sunshine I forget My doom as if it were an exhalation Of last night's dusk, an insubstantial thing ; But when I sleep I see Crescentius' face With Romuald's habit, and the two are one I cannot disentangle, though I strive Till daybreak in an agony, [Glancing at the cloak) But if I do not hug my treasure, if I show The hermit that I am not covetous. Is there not hope he may grow placable ? [Gerbert^ with clouded broWy continues writing as he replies) Gerbert It is to me a cause of private grief Otho should be unmanned — of heavier moment My knowledge that the Turk defiles His tomb 45 Stephania Whose majesty I bear. To-day I write A mandate from S. Peter summoning All Christian princes to the Holy War. Otho O stormy Paradise, O sacred lust Of battle — and you know I cannot join, I dare not mingle with you. Gerhert In your stead I have another pupil. Otho Ahj you mean The son of Capet, whom you never loved As you have loved me, who is dull in war. Who cannot press his prayers into a blow ; Yet should God choose him to confound the strong. And take Jerusalem by miracle. Think how my heart was broken and forbid j Let me be buried there ! Gerhert You would bespeak A sacred sepulchre within the land That you have never travailed to redeem. Nay, but Christ's soldiers shall alone have part In Jewry's blessed soil. How deep so e'er The sin of the Crusader, his offence Is cast behind God's back. They who received News from the starry messengers of great Goodwill on earth to men returned not home With hearts more bland and musical than theirs Who shall respond God wills it to the word Of my poor invocation. 46 Stephania {With firmer energy) On the plains Of Palestine there will be misery, Hunger and thirst and bitter weariness. Such as the hermit with his stinted crust And formal patch of labour wots not of. Return to Romuald, play at keeping fast. Suffer through senseless vigil, while at siege Of the great Eastern cities men keep watch Under a leaden roof of sun, or drag Through deserts where the fountain is mirage. Die at Ravenna in the piny grot 'Mid prayers and sacraments ; while, with the howl Of jackals on his scent, with Saracens In tramp across the field, more fearlessly The young crusader gives his soul to God. No need to him of priest, no need to him Of absolution ; deep within his breast Is peace, the manna, and the hidden name Inscribed by his Redeemer. {He advances and stretches forth his hands towards the Emperor) Otho, come ! [Folding him in his arms) O my beloved, you shall not be discrowned. You must not ; Heaven hath made this royal path For penitents {Pointing to the Crucifix). Turn to your Glorious King So patient in His bonds, who cannot stoop To save Himself. 47 Stephania Otho [Bowing before the Crucifix) Doth not the Gracious Form Bend down to bless ? I am at last beloved, Accepted, and of Thee ! Thou deignest thus To make me Captain of Thy Holy Wars, To choose the very service I can give With strength and joy. Tears rush into my eyes, Great sorrovi^s are appeased, and hope once more Springs inexhaustible as light itself. God, I obey Thy summons ! (Stephania re-enters with a phial ; she lays a letter on the table. At a motion from Gerbert she withdraws into the shadow on the further side of the altar^ where she stoops to take up her basket and knife, Otho rises ; he turns abruptly and fixes his eyes on the letter) Who has laid This packet on the table with its seal ? I stand before it sealed ; I have no power To touch or understand it, but I know Profoundly what is written. It shall burn. It shall be hacked to pieces. {He is about to snatch itj when he recoils^ white and trembling^ then moves into the deep window-seat^ where he stands absorbed as if in a trance) Gerbert [In a low voice to Stephania, who steps softly up to him) What is this. Woman, that you have brought to him ? 48 Stephqnia Stephania It bears The seal of the Camaldoli ; a monk Bade me deliver it. Gerbert [Observing Otho) He has no sight, No consciousness, his attitude is hard. What obloquy of sorrow to behold His lost and trembling face ! I am too shaken To speak with him again ; it were dishonour Too deep to make him iterate the promise That he has sworn to me and to his God. Stephania, you have beauty, dedicate Yourself to his deliverance ; use the famed And unexpressive powers of womanhood. I leave him in your hands ; when you approach His lips are crisp, his blue eyes scintillate With metal flash, and that low brow of his Clears of untoward thoughts. Stephania Pursue your plans, Build up the Empire ; I will entertain My lord and keep him from Ravenna's snares, [Holding out the phial) But, as the sun drops, you will deign to taste Of my poor housewife's wizardries ? Gerbert [Heedlessly gripping the phial^ with his eyes on Otho as he retires) Farewell ! {Exit) (Stephania remains in an attitude of submission ; from the distance she acutely watches the Emperor) 49 E Stephania Stephania I see my failure certain if I speak, Or touch him, for inapprehensiveness Is round him as a cloud, for beauties now Would be unranged above their opposites, And take a level place. The very air That rippled up to my averted eyes Brought messages from his when he descended This morning from his chamber. Afterward He sang a German ballad, but I came Like silence to his voice : each time I heave My bosom something of his manhood falls ; I have no fear, if I am opportune. That virtue will defeat me or religion. Beyond these blunted moments. (Stephania passes out^ with her basket and pruning-knife. The sound of the door^ as it closes after her^ awakes the Emperor from lethargy; with a deep breath he starts up and turns to the table) Otho Terror comes Like a white sea upon me ! I must read The hateful letter ; there is no escape. For Romuald loves my soul as Gerbert loves The nature I was born with, and I perish Between them, yearning for such unity As they proclaim impossible. So safe This parchment lies, as if it surely held The will of heaven, that while I turn away My heart is growing hot for it. One glance SO Stephania Will gather Romuald's messages. [He reads) Tour gifts Are useless^ for you will not give yourself Tou lose what you would keep. And here he says, I pray vain prayers that when you come to die Tou may he quiet in hell^ and know its pains To he your portion of eternal love, [Otho^s hands grow stiff as he grasps the parchment; he re- mains for a long while rigid and silent. Then a softness comes into his face ^ and the scroll drops from his hand) God cannot be entreated. I return To the unbroken cloud ! He takes no bribes ; How like a king He is ! And I am glad At heart that He has flung away my dross, And made all true betwixt us. [He goes up to the altar ^ strips it of the jewels^ and kjieels before the crucifix) Here at last I kneel, with no petition, and adore. How vain it is to hope, how vain to love, To sufftr and to bleed ! — [He rises and turns from the crucifix^ looking hac\ on it with lingering eyes : then he stares drearily at the dalmatica^ and the treasure dashed down from the altar) Or to enjoy ! I must just wait and watch ; I cannot mingle With any project more. [Suddenly turning toward the loggia with a despairing cry) 51 E-2 Stephania And yet I must Have interest for my senses or go mad. [He looks out ; in the distance are the rising churches^ the fortifications. Under the grassy columns of an ancient temple a woman glides^ and then pauses,) My soldiers and my workmen ! So they reared The Tower of Babel, built it brick by brick. I would I had been there to see it fall, Or to be buried in the masonry Where none could dig. That figure by the arch At least is not concerned with me, fulfils No dream of my begetting. With a touch How delicate she snaps the twigs, and chooses So slowly as if wise, for leaf by leaf She thins her plant. The woman interests me By that unusual grace of plucking herbs Above her head. She sees a larger growth High on the very key-stone of the arch, And grapples with the cluster as a prize. She hangs upon its branches, all her clothes Fall back ; the strain of her endeavour brings The tuft, the block of sculptured marble down In ruin, and reveals her face. It is Stephania's ! From the Temple of the Moon She hurls a noble fragment, and remains Contemptuous of its downfall as she plaits A basket with her leaves. How solitary She looks, and yet how strong ! I keep aloof, 52 Stephania For in her presence unfamiliar fiends Are roused in me, temptations that arrest, That fill me with a curiosity To prove their magic promises, that stand About, and wait as if with harnessed steeds. I wonder why she gathered herbs at eve From Dian's fane, and yet so wantonly Has shattered it; she lures and irritates Within the shade ; but, as she moves along, She calms by merely walking. (Stephania passes out of sight. After a while servants move about the hall with lights and golden dishes) I despair Of finding happiness at all 'mong men ; They cast it out with arguments ; like nature^ Like poetry is a woman, and like them She stirs an agitation as of waves, A trouble that is ecstasy. The night Falls from its lonesome distances, the stars Still vacillate and do not shine. I hear The glad cries of the city and its songs ; There is a light behind me. {He turns) What a blaze. As if my servants meant to make a feast ! One enters bearing wine^ and with the flask Two cups. Ah, I remember, one is mine, And one is set for Gerbert. I could laugh That this illumination should be made For him, a bent,, old man, who holds discourse 53 Stephania On substance and on number ; while I know. As candle after candle springs and burns, I could not listen. [To a servant) It is not our will You summon the most reverend Pope to-night ; We have a matter we would lay before The lady called Stephania, and we beg That she will visit us. {The servants go out) What have I done ? It is a trifle ! I shall ask the name She gives her sombre garland ; and perchance The useless, festive look about the room Will cease to haunt me if she enter it. We shall be both indifferent ; for she was Crescentius' wife, and she will understand I sent for her from courtesy. These tapers Seem to accomplish some great rite and dance As if before a Power ! I am myself Impatient and responsive to — I cannot Conceive what hidden joy, for there is nothing To come, except an easeful hour, the pleasure Of speaking with a woman, and of seeing The answers of her face. I hope my servants Will say no word to Gerbert ; he might find Some disrespect in what I do, or blame it As levity. Is that unruffled sound Her coming ? {He sees her in the distance) She has altered her attire ! I hate her for the change that she has made ; 54 Stephania The metal spangles on her robe, the roses Within her hair bewilder me. I turn Cold as in snow ; my forehead damps my hand j I have no more a wish to speak to her. [He walks back to the window as Stephania enters) How even the twilight is implacable, For it is drawing round as if to shut The candelabra closer in their glow \ It does not bring concealment, it expresses The spirit out of fire, until the room Is terrible in splendour. Stephania I am here : What would my lord impart to me ? Otho How quickly You have responded ! Stephania It displeases you ? Your servants bade me hasten ; but, as Caesar Is unprepared, I shall at leisure wait His second summons.^ Otho Stay. Stephania If I am here It is to serve your will, for I was told I should be honoured with some confidence, Otho On nothing that concerns the commonwealth, N6r anyone in Rome save you and us — [Facing her) Stephania, you avoid me in the Court, You move remote as if dissatisfied. You watch me, yet I never meet your glance 3 55 Stephania Your mouth is silent. What is the oiFence You find in my behaviour, for I seek To change your fortunes, to persuade your anger To condonation of the past ? . . . And yet I cannot think of anything gone by, While thus you stand before me, thus renewed, So actual in your beauty. Stephania Of old times Few care to think in chambers bright as this. With wine upon the table. You are tired. Your eyes are troubled ; do not question me : My grievous moods I put away the moment I crossed your threshold ; yea, when 'mid my hair I laced the perfumed roses. You forget That I am learned in pleasure. On your brows Since you return to Rome there is no joy. Otho For I have no forgiveness. Stephania Whom, my lord. Have you offended, if it be not I ? Whom else would you appease ? Otho Why, there is God. Stephania And He is pitiless ? Otho Here lies a scroll From Romuald, the great saint, who sentenced me To take the vows of the Camaldoli, And expiate my sin. I could not yield My boundless youth to walls, and to the circle Of daily liturgies, of lonesome prayers, 56 Stephania Nor leave the burning blue world for the dark. I could not be discrowned, even before God ^ My royalty revolted, though my sins Must stay across the cover of the Book Of Life, undimmed by penitence : instead, I forced the gates of Rome, I Hashed the splendour Of Greece across the Court, I heaped the shrines With carbuncles, with ouches ; and for this. So Romuald writes, God has me in such hate He has appointed me my heritage Within the everlasting fire. Stephania Make certain Then of your condemnation, do not tarry Between your good and evil, take all earth Can offer, ere you play your part in hell. My lord, how pale you turn ? Otho Such Roman valour Is in your words — all that the earth can give ! Stephania, you must yield what else in vain I should entreat the universe to grant. If you would have me reckless as the blood Is in my frame to-night. That cruel saint I knelt to at Ravenna sent me forth To Rome with the prediction I should die, Because I would not cowl my helmed brows For sake of sin committed when a boy, Before I knew that mercy must attend Even the establishing of mighty aims, 57 Stephania Before my eyes were open to receive The beauty of your presence. O forgive ! No more remember my abhorred deed. Nor my abhorred indiiFerence to yourself. Wipe the past clean, for if we laugh at judgment We must have naught behind us we can see. Stephania [Aside) Crescentius, turn away ; forgive your wife ! He made me an adulteress. [To Otho) You are mad. You join me to your destiny ? Otho I know At last that woman is the guardian form Above life's secret treasures. Do not close Your lips as if in pain. Ah, now you smile ; You let your eyes rest full upon my eyes, A breath breaks from you and you stoop. O love, I kneel before this kiss. Condemned to death For ever, let me die within your arms ; Let them encompass me as Phlegethon Binds the last doom with fire. Stephania You kneel to one Whose pride is broken, round about whose beauty No Hmit now is set that admiration Or longing can transgress ; one who is freed From reticence, who frees from all restraint As nature doth, who gives and who receives With the mere general temper of the earth ; 58 Stephania Who understands no homage to herself. Nor heeds it for endowments that delight. And that men always praise. Otho There is no pride In this confession that necessity Is on me to adore you ? Let it seem But passion for your touch or for your smile. This mouth exactly formed, these wondrous tresses Of filbert-yellow to your ear, and thence More orient in their curve : it is enough To praise you for these things : yet in my joy There is a love so piercing that it reaches Beyond what I can see, or ever speak. Beyond my senses, and beyond my will, Since I am lost beyond my conscience too. Stephania You still reprove yourself, you have not chosen Quite to renounce the cloister ; you are yet But half-determined — miserable pause ! Otho You know I cannot quit the rule of men. The conduct of my armies, the protection Of my elected pope, a spirit linked With mine to force achievement ; and for this I shall be damned. Then let me have the pleasure For which you have illuminated all Capacities within me. I demand What every youth about me long ago Has cried for and obtained. I do not think— 59 Stephania Why should I ? — of your nearness to my crime ; I do not see you as Crescentius' wife. Stephania Why should you ? Otho All offences are related, Are of a kin ; it matters not how one Deals with another, for between the brood Shame is a thing unknown. I almost fear That I am mad with these appalling weeks Of struggle and recoil. You, you alone Have brought me splendid sorrows ; all the rest Were dark as night and hapless as the grave 5 You tortured me with glory, with the fire Prometheus lit in man. I am a Greek, — Born Greek : I worship beauty as they worshipped In that old land of cities. I have loved The light of learning ; it was but the moon Against the sun when loveliness appeared Bright on your brow and bosom. I have loved My shining crowns, but in your voice there is That which deposes sovereigns. More than Greece - For she is half a fable — I have loved My Rome, creator of my visions, destined To be fulfilment's prize, but in your flesh Rome is more living than in stately walls, As mystic, though less changed. Stephania I am descended From purest Roman stock ; before Augustus Was made, like you, an Emperor, my forefathers 60 Stephania Had borne Crescentius' title. Otho But your brows Are conscious and imperial, they belong To ages of dominion and of pleasure Unequalled in Olympus when the Gods Were satisfied with sacrifice, and Hebe Brought them the heavenly cup. I have forgotten The drear religion that I loved, the folly Of seeking unseen hopes. You stand supreme, As blonde as honey, soft to look on, softer To touch, with glittering robe, and roses fallen Red-coloured down your hair : I see in you All that I want. Stephania And I in Caesar find Desire fulfilled. Otho Stephania, O my life, I shudder at avowal from your heart You long to bless me. It is terrible As birth or death to feel one is beloved : To meet with beauty in untried embrace Is anguish like first meeting with the air. Or losing it again in final dust When what was born must die ; and yet the joy Is past the limit of existence, needing A paradise to breathe in. Stephania You are mine, Though ignorant as yet of what I say When I proclaim you mine. Experience 6i Stephania Alone can give its slow discoveries Of gain and triumph to our intercourse. Yet I shall ease your senses with a sudden Initiation into liberty ; And you will stay a craving of my spirit, A need of you that actuates each thought. My arms are empty — Come ! Otho O exultation To meet you as your captive in our love ! The cressets do not burn — you burn, until All else is darkness. Your blown roses mingle Their vivid petals, and a fire of gold Leaps from your robe. I cannot drink the wine : It is too weak : but I desire your beauty As Hades' ghosts craved blood, for I have been A phantom of myself since Romuald's curse. The taste of life, its nourishment, its truth Are mine to-night, and in your deep embrace Forgiveness is accorded. Nothing more Has the ungenerous heaven to do with us, Who pardon and are pardoned, who attain Hope hy each other, who from very guilt Have drawn a perfect issue. Stephania [Suddenly Jlinging him back) O my prize, My great reward for unimagined pains. Will you, whose head shall rest where fate is joy, Dare in to-morrow's sun to cast me off, 62 Stephania Disowning gifts that cannot be returned, And leaving kisses like a crowd of leaves Under the nipt acacias for a sign And memory of to-night ? Otho You catch my hands. You have an aspect fierce and like a corpse ; Change back to splendour, for you damp my mood, love, my glory, I am hurrying on, On, past you to the tomb. It is for you To breathe on me, to let your resonant. Firm voice strike through me, to keep sharp and clear The outline of my life, for all is fading Around me and must fade. What, cast you off Who love me, who forgive ! But I will rather Cleave to you till I die of your embrace. 1 must be yours for ever ! Stephania Ay, till death. 63 ENLACONS-NOUS Cest niGi qui te rends serieuse ; enlaqons-nous > 65 Stephania ACT III. Cest moi qui te rends serleuse ; enlaqons-nous / Scene. — The same hall of the Old Palace^ next morning. Gerhert stands by the door of the Emperor* s hed-chamher^ to the right. He knocks^ listens for a while ^ then drops his hands. An expression 'of withered agony settles on his face. Gerhert The Emperor sleeps though Rome is in revolt : He gives no sign. Thrice have I summoned him, And thrice a woman's voice hath made excuse. I did not think to visit him again, To stoop to exhortation, but his throne Is tottering, and I cannot see him fall. I cannot see him compassed by a crowd Of rebels, yet, my God ! I can no more Go forth and speak for him. A dizzy fear Is come upon me, and within my frame I feel strange preparations for decay — A sickness worse than sickness, as the prophet, 67 F-2 Stephama When he puts dust and ashes on his head To show his people's anguish, suffers more Than when the destined city is become The image of his pHght. I stand in time At that most tragic moment when the change Of offices begins, when he who poured His bounty must stretch forth his hand for alms, When he who guided must be led. I thought Otho would take the change so graciously, Foster as I had fostered him, recall The way I humoured him in restive moods. Contract the habit of my patience, break His purpose softly to me. Is it age, I wonder, very age that severs us ? My youth is in the future — there we met. There we made happiness ; but now he hugs The present merely, I remain by him A shrunk, old man. God, if he vacillate The city will be lost ! Again I hear Soft laughter from the room — a wanton's laugh — O degradation ! Yet it hurts me less That he should perish 'mid such infamies As the old Roman Emperors made their boast, Whom men still count as idols and in secret Still spread the fame of, than to see him swayed By one who would invest him with the cowl, Sfephania Stripping the majesty that God Himself Stoops to with adoration when He stoops. {More confidently) But if I wrong him ! It may be he arms, And will come forth a soldier, capable Among his soldiers. Alexander thus ' Was quick in love and war. [Suddenly catching sight of Romuald'^s letter) I cannot doubt There hath been wisdom in my policy ; For here is the monk's letter torn across, And here are fallen roses. Both old men, Both pitted in resolve to dominate The boy we love — while Romuald tempts his soul To great renunciation, I have set Simply a pleasure by him, and am dumb. {Enter Otho and Stephania. The Emperor advances with uncertain step; he grasps Stephania' s hand^from time to time gazing back at her with an expression of intense worship) Otho To think the dear, unpardonable crime Hath been accomplished, that you are possessed. And such new hopes and possibilities Have sprung to birth ! What, did you think I slept, And count yourself forsaken ? But for you I culled the odours of a thousand flowers, As in enchanted passion I pursued The honey-bird that draws men to such sweets As lie in aromatic forests far 69 Stephania Among the secret boughs. I was not slack In service, prompted to my task by all The mystical alacrity of love. You are not richly dressed, not gems enough. [Otho draws Stephania to the foot of the crucifix^ and decks her with jewels and ornaments) Oh, how delicious are these emeralds. This amber, and this gold. They were to mix With dead men's bones. Saint Justin's reliquary Was to be spangled thus. Could God intend Another destination for His gems Than this, and this ? (Decking her throat and wrists) But for the dull, sweet hair A diadem is lacking. Roses — nay, But you shall be my empress. Do you start ? You have no apprehension of my love, My restless adoration. All the world I would make subject to you. If I journey Now to the East, it will be to return Laden with spices that you have not smelt. With wonders that you have not dreamed, with dyes That will enhance your beauty. Deck your robes, And I myself will fetch you my own crown For trial till we have these amethysts Pressed close into a circle for your brow. (While Otho is decking Stephania^ Gerbert stands as if petrified^ but angrily presses up to him as he turns from the altar) 70 Stephania Gerhert (To Otho) Come, in Christ's name, come forth. If Rome be lost — \^Exit Otho {To Stephania) Woman, what have you done ? Stephania I have defrauded Your foe and mine. Gerhert But Otho — think of him ! What have you done ? The lovely, limpid eyes Are as black velvet, and the tremulous, Bright lips are stiff with fever. Stephania He is ill. Gerhert How — ill, and in your care ? You said you had Strange knowledge — Stephania Of malignant, baleful herbs. And of their transmutations ; but this boy I find so far upon his road to death That nothing can arrest him ; Italy Hath laid her fatal hands on him : the utmost That I can do is to forbid his flight To Romuald, and secure your great revenge. Gerhert What hope have I, what enemy, by whom Can I be injured if he perish, if The yellow autumn icreep into his leaves ? Stephania Your face is grey. Gerhert Have pity on him, think How you can heal him. Stephania But it scarce becomes A mistress to be tedious in discharge Of the unhonoured functions of a nurse. 71 Stephania Gerhert O woman, do not stand so patiently- Coiling your hair ! The town is full of treason, The Emperor is in peril, may be slain : I have no care for man, no care for God, Except he walk in splendour. Are you just His leman, that you listen with those wide, Unsoftened eyes \ and would you let him die. Die at your feet, and give no shout for help ? (Snatching her robe) Stephania, you must bring him to himself; I am grown old, irresolute. Stephania You lay So many duties on me ; yesternight I was to vanquish Caesar that old way Delilah took with Samson. I have shorn His locks, and for the Roman Philistine I fear my hero is in sorry trim. [Restraining Gerhert who^ with a passionate gesture^ seeks to reach the inner room) You think to rule him ; you are eloquent. Old man, it is not thus that youth is ruled ; These roses, and this arm about his neck To pull the thorns back from his wavy hair, Will stablish a dominion you will stand Helpless before and execrate. He comes. {Re-enter Otho) Gerhert Otho ! — Ah, God, his weary, roving eyes ! — The city is in tumult. Do not smile 72 Stephania So hurriedly ; you must ride down the streets, Armed and yet gracious. Come, your captains wait ! I cannot help you, for to-day my brain * Lies in my skull as an impediment 'To speech and effort [Clasping his brow in horror at the Emperor* s heedlessness) Otho ! [The Emperor breaks from Gerberfs detention^ and springs towards Stephania^ as if he suddenly recognised her) Otho What, my love, Parted one moment from you, must religion Already come betwixt us ? See, a crown ! We will have truth now, utter truth, the wisdom That is life's sunken gold. If I am Caesar— And now I know I am ; as in a glory I watch the multitudes that forge me arms. The seas that make smooth pavement for my ships. My laden dromedaries on the plains Of sand — the wonder of it springs from this Strange lady that I worship. Since my title Is stablished, since I sit on Charlemagne's throne, I need not trouble what my subjects say, What cause they have against me, what revolt They nourish in their blood ; they are no kindred Of mine, but strangers, enemies I sought To love against all nature : yet this day I will not let them spoil, this yellow day Of sun, and knowledge of my happiness ; For, Gerbert, I have found my race. The light 73 Stephanta Strikes through me, as the vivid rain descended, They tell, within a virgin's tower, and made Disclosure of the mysteries she felt Persuading her to joy : even so, ah so. This splendent sun reveals to me my birth. That I am Greek — I who have never known Until to-day what sweet immunities Such origin accords, what joy, what freedom. That blended are serenitude. The large. Harmonious earth receives me, and the cloister Gapes like an empty grave upon the rim Of shifting fascination. Joyous forms Rejoice I should behold them as they sweep Along in dances, coloured lustily, With succulent, round arms that flash with action, When steps are lifted as the cymbals meet. And pleasure is conferred. Stephanta You see his state. And I your handmaid, subject to your will. Have brought this thing to pass. Otho When I awoke, I seemed to lie within a sunny field ; My naked limbs were thrown upon the sod To catch the sun, while everywhere around Swept cornlands in a glitter, harvest-meadows That stood unshorn. Gerbert His touch is burning hot ; He does not know me. 74 Stephania Otho As I turned I saw A goddess, hidden by her crinkled hair, And prostrate in her garment : then I slept In stillness that was full of life, and woke Once more to hear her in another room. That I could reach by springing. It is strange ! I tell you what I saw, I am not mad ; I know you want me in your restlessness To speak to fancied rebels, and I know Stephania is my mistress. Listen, Gerbert, I see so many things, and yet not once Have I beheld Crescentius, and no line Of Romuald's face has mingled with the curves Of land or of soft bodies that enchant. So all is well. [He sinks down on the cushions of a seat ; Stephania stands behind and above him. She addresses Gerbert) Stephania I was Crescentius' wife. I would not have him [Pointing to Otho) haunted by my dead^ Not unavenged shall he again inflict Dishonour on my husband. Is it well ? Gerbert [To Otho) Ay, well that Rome should find you thus, who are Co-equal in my dignity ? Stephania [To Gerbert) You stand Superior ? At my foot one victim lies Prostrate, the other in a living mesh Strives, he can never extricate. 75 Stephania Otho {To Stephania) How sad And grave you look ! Come, lift me in your arms, My love ; I hate this sadness. Get away, Old man, and set in awe the restive Church. Your dreams are full of childishness ; I need No dreams now I enjoy. Let us alone ; We are so happy. Men have never set An hour-glass in a room where there is mirth. Music, and revelling. Your glances seem So full of time, of summons, reprimand. Reproach, dissuasion. {Leaning back on Stephania' s bosom) This I think must be The Angel swearing time should be no more. O Love, — but over me such wonders sweep, Almost hallucination. Gerbert It was thought A while ago that soon I should be blind : You prayed for me — Oh, when God answers prayer It is to punish. Would you had been damned The way you chose ! Stephania f Looking up) What is there to regret ? The boy dies happy. Gerbert Is he then to die Dishonoured on your bosom ? What of that — The church, the future ! I remain a Pope ; Within me there are perfect powers of rule : God helping me. • . . Why should God give me help ? 76 Steph nania He hates, the devil hates me, and the two Toss me as infamous from hand to hand. {To Otho) 'Tis pity that you were not made a monk To live in lewdness, safe from sound of war. I thought once we should cleanse the monasteries, I thought — but now I must go forth and watch Your ungirt soldiers open to the foe. [Moving away) Otho [Springing after him) Gerbert, come back, come back. O my beloved. What is this evil thing ? [Detaining him) How cold you stand Across the sun, like stone ! Gerbert [Stooping down — in a hurried whisper) Bid her depart. I knew the words so well — anathema — That day the great archheretic was stripped. [Softly stroking Otho) Curse her, breathe on her, breathe ! Stephania I shall remain. The execrated harlot. Otho Peace ! — O shame, O misery ! You brave him in my sight. Do you not see that he is dying ? Go ! Frown not thus stubbornly. Gerbert [With firmer voice) Breathe on her, breathe ! The wanton ! Stephania I have never blenched from truth, Truth cannot curse me, Otho [To Stephania) Would you trouble him, 77 Stephania An old, vexed, thwarted man. God's curse on you, Begone ! Stephania But if you summon me again I will return, {To Gerbert) Old Pope, the prostitute Is mistress of the palace. You grow dumb, Are cut from argument. In penitence. By prayer and such poor signs as you can make, You shall restore me to my sovereignty. Gerbert Breathe on her, breathe ! [Exit Stephania) Otho O Gerbert, I am faint, And you misjudge her. Lay me on the couch. What is her sin ? I dare not be alone Without her. Are you come as Romuald came To tell me I am damned — I had forgotten; And if you think me dying I had liefer Lie on her bosom than against your head. Why did you bid her go, when there is nothing Of interest to impart to me ? I know Your story bit by bit ; while all is new She says to me, all new and wonderful. With little speech in it, a mystery That soothes me as it opens. Call her back ! Gerbert At least come forth in armour. Otho It is vain. More visions crowd upon me ; let me be. Gerbert And let the people press into your palace, 78 Stephania And hang your body on Saint- Angelo ? Otho So, as I hanged Crescentius. Do you dream That anything will goad me any more ? But I am thirsty, and there is no drink Left in my room. You cannot wait on me. And I am sick to death. (Caressingly) Will you not call Stephania ? Do not vex me with report Of these rebellions ; go and hush the noise. Now call her to me ! — Tell her how I hate Her people, hate the multitude of slaves ! And I had led their legions far beyond The habitable lands, the furrowed main, The hot trench of the desert ; Lombardy And Greece had been mere subject provinces. I find corruption in my very dreams, They crumble at a touch : I have foregone All honour and all hope. I cannot reach The East, I cannot reach the Holy Tomb ; It were a drunken insolence to think Again of that great enterprise. Last night I seemed to lie within the Soldan's tent. Silken and chequered, half in cramoisie. And half in green and gold ; the balsam-hedge Was fragrant round me, and I knew at heart I was a cursed Paynim. ... Is she here ? (In an almost extinct voice) Go, summon her — you stumble at her name, 79 Stephania Stephania ? — for you know that I am sworn To the sweet service of the devil. Haste, Fetch me some help. Gerhert God, I must start alone, And face them and make signs. I will appease Their treason in some manner, and return To comfort you. O Otho, my beloved .... (Otho falls prone on a couch, Gerhert goes out^ and his voice is heard in a hollow cry) Stephania, come ! (She re-enters with a straw-laced wine-bottle from which she gives Otho drink) Stephania My lord, what illness clouds The northern eagle's eyes ? Doth Italy Consume you with her fever ? Otho Fatal love. Your face has laid me waste, you are so lovely, So insupportable. Your kiss ! — your kiss Hurts as once conscience hurt me, and your eyes Draw glory forth of me and leave but shame, « As in the summer every stream is dry In this south country. O be pitiful. If you conceive your loveliness ! Stephania You ask Of me compassion ? Otho As I ask my Greece To pity me, born northern, as I pray Your cruel sun to spare me, as I turn 80 Stephania To those great hopes and passions of my youth That never will come down from their high seat, As once I called for mercy on my God. Stephania Hush, hush ! — You have possessed me, Otho Never speak Such blasphemy again. I can possess Nothing I love : the empire that I wield Reaches my hand from others, and by others In turn will be enjoyed when I am dead. Stephania, O bright jewel, I am fading ; Our ways have almost parted : all my powers Are growing older 'neath my yellow hair Than if my head were grey. You must not smile ; There are strange terrors in me, strange revolts Of youth against itself, and avenues. That end in darkness of unstable depth, I come on when I think. Stephania Yet at a word From Gerbert you dismissed me with a curse ; You had been very humble at my feet. As now, an hour before; but when he came I was a thing to taunt, to set at nought, And put away. Recall the memories I come from, what a past is in my blood : I have endured base handling, but from you I will demand humiliation such As kings take from their prostrate enemies, Ere you again shall move me to receive 8i Stephania Your homage, or give favour to your love. Otho But I am ill ; you must not speak to me Of love or passion. Bid the Romans come ! Do not block up the doors, I need the air, Italy, ensieged about my heart, 1 yield and make no terms ! There is a noise, A pressure in the streets. Is Gerbert safe ? It may be I imperilled him. Stephania (Looking out) He comes As one that hath been baulked ; derisively The people eye him as he moves, his mien Hath nothing of success. Otho He is not hurt ? Stephania Nay, nay ; he holds himself erect as if With power to imprecate. Before he come, I tell you, you must choose betv^ixt us twain : Either dismiss him, or a second time Look in my eyes forbiddingly. I scarce Conceive a Pope is necessary now. Seeing that you are damned — you told me that, And then I bade you take the pleasant way Of going to your doom ; in my compassion' I offered you my beauty to caress. This Pope intruded ; he has spoken words A woman may not hear ; he is my rival, A bleached, old hypocrite ! (She unveils her dazzling breast with a scornful laugh) 82 Stephania Otho Beloved! Stepha7iia That name You use to him ^ and since he has your heart I will not linger. Otho (Rising with a cry) In your eyes is love At last — oh, if you love me I shall live ! These jealous flames are hot, unlike the glances That flowed as radiance out of ice or facet Of diamond when you took me to yourself. My Empress ! Stephania Will you never any more Give Gerbert place ? Otho Nay, let him find us now Thus royal, thus enclasped. We will receive him, And tell him of our pleasure as two kings. You shall be crowned ; I need no diadem Who have been blessed with oil. Mount, mount my throne. And sit above me queenly ! [In a scared voice ^ after he has yielded to her all his state^ and thrown himself at her feet) As I kneel, I see you motionless 'mid wakeful gems That nod and comment ; yet it cannot be That you are Charlemagne's self, for where his beard Fell down as cobweb is a rounded chin — How firm in contour ! — where the injured dust Of eyelids marred his face, beam heavenly eyes In which are juvenescence and delight. 83 G-2 Stephania Your chair is golden- moulded ; his was made Of spectral marble, bound with iron clamps j I never looked on anything so cold, So of the grave, and kingdom of the dead ; Its back and flanks were toneless, and its steps For pressure of still feet — its charnel-steps. Old, loosening, full of atoms. Many a night I have gone down them one by one, until I lost them in the softness of a gulf. And strove to shudder. O Stephania, sit Thus firm above me, living, eloquent To every sense, lest that dead Emperor rise Behind you, looming like a misty pile. I took from him this carcanet ; from you I snatch your chain — a pledge that I shall live Lord of the realm you govern : his was pain And yours is pleasure. (He takes from her the golden amulet that a while before he had given her from the midst of the dedicated treasure) Stephania But an absolute Supremacy ? Otho Beside you is a wreath Of twisted grape and rose ; it shall not fade Till it be token of my joyfulness. (Crowning himself with leaves and flowers) Love, here is wine \ drink, drink ! I did not dream You could be jealous. Put away this state ! 84 Stephania We will carouse together. Did you languish Dull months around the palace ? I will live To see you witness the great spectacles In the arena ; you shall wear my crown ; But all its angry cusps and notches must Be blunted by fresh leaves ; and we will listen To music — there is spirit in its sounds That makes all free within : we will not dance As courtiers do, but spring extravagant As Bacchanals, the impulse unallayed By any circumspection ; we will laugh For hours with open lips. Your hands are cold ; Are you not happy yet ? If that grim Pope — Ah, ah, behold him, sanctimonious, slow, And wry of face ! Now you shall see me choose ; Embrace me, cling about me. (Re-enter Gerbert) Excellent! Gerbert, you look grave. So conjurors look When one who has admired their arts laughs out. For he has learnt the method of their skill, Can mix the magic and enchant the world, 1 thought I wanted God ; I was not happy. Not for a single day ; they never are Who think of God. You bade me be like Him, But I have learned that He has missed the mark. And is most wretched, as a governor . Stemmed by His people's hate, and full of plans. Striving for others. I will be myself, «5 Stephania And use my good and live deliciously. How tired you look ! That comes of taking vows ; But when one has a paramour, one breathes Her sweetness as one breathes the Maytide air Without misgiving, confident of June Beyond, and more, more summer. [Seizing Stephania* s hand^ and with her descending the steps of the throne) We defy Your curses ! Oh, I think that Paradise Was entered underneath the flaming sword, When those God punished put away the thought Of pleasing Him, and in each other's arms Found they were lapped in pleasure. {Jo Stephania) He is dull ; Your beauty has transfixed him. [During this speech Gerbert stands with folded arms following Otho's movements^ as one under operation follows the doctor^s hand) Stephania Guiltiness Keeps him at pause, my lord. Look on him, look ! Is he not withered of his own malign And rancorous nature ? {To Gerbert) You would thrust me forth ; But I will keep my sovereign place until You have declared my crimes. Your accusation ! We will be patient. Have I ever wronged My country, have I ever wronged your friend ? 86 Stephania (To 0th o) Give me my mantle. [She sweeps the coro- nation mantle round her) He collects his thoughts. Why this is tedious : all his answers rise And fall upon his brain and disappear, As waves that heave and die and are not heard. My gracious Emperor, must we not conclude That I am guiltless since he has no speech. At such an age paralysis will come To men, like ice, close up their faculties, Thicken their apprehension. He has drunk But once of my elixir, and one draught Hath not perchance sufficient energy To thaw the sullen freezing of disease; And yet I must interrogate. {To Gerbert) If now You can deny, if you dare give a sign, Or make a movement of denial 'gainst The questions that I put, I will retire. (To Otho) Let me have justice. [To Gerbert) Were you slow to mark My beauty, were you slow to counsel me To use it with a woman's guilefulness ? You give no signal of dissent, and therefore I may affirm unquestioned — narrative Is easy where none dares to contradict. You eagerly besought me by all arts To disenchant the Emperor of the cowl ; Yea, hinted it were better I should be 87 Stephania His mistress, more acceptable to heaven, Than that his youth should pass in sterile prayers. You owned in Romuald an arch-enemy We must combine to crush. I played my part ; It was well conned, not new, and I attempted In nothing to deceive. He took the harlot. He laughed at Romuald. Is it for this triumph That I must suffer? Otho {Who has risen with a blaze of passion In his eyes) She shall slowly burn. Burn in the fire, if she have injured you. (To Stephania) Stand off! Stephania He winked at my ascendancy, He thought all influence lawful to exert Against the hated Romuald and his God. We have each hated well the cenobite. And I have overcome him, Otho Strategy ! {Gazing full at Stephania) Ah, I forget, it is your natural part — Lies, Lies ! But, Gerbert, if this come from you. There is a word that I can brand you with, A novel signature, for you are fresh To infamy : if, when I call you traitor. You bow and tremble, if you dare not stand Erect, and throw the charge back with your eyes. If all you did to me was done in love, I will be gentle. Do not let my passion 88 Stephania Hold you back stunned from speech ; give me a sign. There is a dreamy dulness in your face As you too were past feeling. I can bear So much if I have power to punish you. If I can make you suffer. Do not stoop, And stare upon the ground. Stephania He seeks the parchment You tore to pieces. Otho Look ! he takes it up, And kisses it, and tries to make it whole. It is all lying plain before me now, The letters are in order. {He bends low down over the scroll; Gerbert extends his hand at a distance over his head^ and goes out noiselessly) But they burn As letters branded on a miscreant's cheek. And they are written larger than before, They change and move so that they have no form; I cannot read them — [Looking up) Is he gone away ? — And then the figures move along so fast. And falter from their purpose. All I know I think he taught me. And that dreary book On Reason that he wrote to clear my brain ! How odd it seems to think I am his dupe, That he was bent on damning me the while He wrote such precepts. {To Stephania) Do you stand and watch 89 St e pliant a With those red, fihny eyes ? Go, fetch your Romans, Fling back the doors, and let the rebels press. Press on me dying: there should be spectators To such a scene as this. Do as I bid ; You have been wont lo execute the will Of any soldier. Leave me to myself. {Exit Stephania to the loggia^ from which she looks out on the city, Otho sinks exhausted on the couch,) How like a cell it is now she is gone. And all the hills He quiet ! Mountain air, Or else one could not breathe so easily ; And Romuald in his hut is saying prayers: I watch the pigeons tumble in the sun. The gold and silver feathers — Oh, this sleep ! (He drops into a child-like slumber) Stephania [Re-entering from the loggia) Not yet ! Bavaria beats my people back ; Their triumph is delayed ; [Sitting down by Otho) but here is death Already at the gates. How beautiful The full arch of these eyelids, the white forehead So low and lustrous ^ but the mouth is swoln Even now a little, just one purple spot. Otho [Half waking) Is it not almost noontide ? But I feel It is — Rome's full meridian. Stephania Do you ask ? Otho They say in Lapland there is one long night Of winter, with no check. Close up the blinds ! 90 Stephania There is a twitching ray that flits about, And dances on my brain. It is not sleep To lie and watch the darkness rolling in : I pass on to far shores, I am a stranger, And all the sounds I hear are indistinct. {JVhile Otho is lying with closed eyes^ Stephania rises ; she stretches out her arms wearily^ and disarranges the folds of her tunic. Stooping to put the?n straight^ she looks at herself in Othos shield^ that still lies against the column where he threw it i then she turns from her reflection with disgust) Stephania O God, how tedious is the harlot's part. The mimic vanity, the mimic rage. The waiting upon appetite ! I loathe My gems, my unguents, all the fragrant lights I scatter on my hair. To dress for him, To garnish infamy, to give one's face The vermeil of a flower ! I have such need Of rest, to lay the cerecloth over him ! A lethargy falls on me like a hell Pressed inward — ah, I have such need of sleep, The change, the peace ! What, do the roses drop Their leaves down on him ? Then his hour is come ! I may unmask. (The roses from the garland about her crown shed them-* selves ; she smiles^ she shakes them down^ then slowly strips herself of ear-rings^ amulets^ and golden girdle. 91 Stephania Last of all she lays aside her richly-hrotdered dress^ beneath which she wears a shroud) How fair and white the linen They wrap about a corpse ! I clad myself Thus secretly in grave-clothes every time That I put on the harlot's ornaments, The perfumes, and far-striking gems. At last I can put by my marks of infamy, All — save these branded cheeks, and give him sight Of his denuded bedfellow. O death. How dear are thy impoverishments, how dear Thy nakedness and thy simplicity ! (She stands rigidly by Otho) No need now of a censer ^ in my will The sorcery, the charm. Otho Let be ! Let be ! I feel that I am dying; every fear , Or trouble that has ever filled my mind Is in my body, in my very blood. Is massed upon my heart: it must be death. Stephania It is. Otho {Unclosing his eyes) Stephania — God, how terrible ! Stephania To die? Otho No, no ! How terrible your face. That glitters white, ironic, and but now Was marvellously beautiful. Your voice Is just what I remember it, all else About you altered : you are unadorned. 92 Stephania I felt your stones like drops of northern rain Against my brow and neck before I slept. Where are they gone? Your robe of flattened folds Perplexes while it seems to threaten me, As clothing in a dream. I am beset By what is unfamiliar. Speak ! Stephania You fancied A woman had so little steadfastness She could not mourn the husband of her youth, So little chastity that she could give His veritable pleasures ujito you Who falsely murdered him before her eyes, And cast his honour to her ravishers. She gave you bliss, but such as does not found A perpetuity of Hfe, a fence Against destruction, that in essence is Nothing, that passes on the blast of death Into a void. Otho I cannot understand What you have been nor what I am become. There is such crash of falling in my brain. The world, myself, and all I built on you Are broken into dust. Stephania I have been pleasure ; I am as surely death. Last night you breathed The subtle poison of slow-growing herbs That lingers in its tacit balefulness As if it loved to kill. You have few hours 93 Stephania Of life beneath your sentence : then you die Of me and by me, who deceived you not, In whom you were deceived. Otho So that I told you The secret I have left before God's sight In silence — how my poignant, wanton love Sought help from the entireness that it trusted To find in yours : and all the while your heart Was stopped against me, and you understood Nothing I suffered, but with smiles prepared My punishment, my grave. Stephania I never spoke The least untruth to you, and at your prayer Alone I have embraced you with a passion Retributive, conjuring. Otho From your eyes I catch the frenzy of an awful gulf That draws me down more than the streaming sense Of night, the vast constriction that I know Will bring me to the tomb. There is no love. Not any in your face — there never was — Nor in your kisses. I deceived myself Each time I clasped your hand; you break but faith With my delusion. O the bitterness. Beyond the pains of death, the pains of fire ! You seemed to give that soon you might exact ; So different from Romuald, who denounced The moment that he doomed, whose condemnation 94 Stephania „.,^ Exceeded yours in harshness, and yet brought My will into its fold, whose prophecy Remains amid the shadows of to-day The only thing that lives — except a hope That, if I bear with joy the uttermost And everlasting justice of my God, I sometime may behold upon His face The love with which His saint looked after me Who knew how I was judged. If it be true I have some hours of breath, I yet may travel To my great lover, and declare to him My willingness to die and be condemned As my divinest end. My God, my God, I must be cut away from Thee, except Thy justice come to claim my wickedness As portion of its rule, except Thy mercy Stoop down to give me punishment as alms. Stephania Have you forgotten whom you leave behind. And to what fate ? The Pope is like to live For many months. Otho Dead, dead, but he is dead. And out of mind for ever, dead and false. Put him within the whitened sepulchre. Write how he tore away my soul from truth. Keeping back half he had to give of God — Unpardonable sin ! With perfect hatred 95 Stephania I hate him, let him perish ! I am girt, And for a journey. Stephania Is there any goal, ' * Or any welcome for you anywhere But on my bosom ? Otho If it must be so — [He falls back despairingly) Stephania Were it not better you should grow a child Beneath my hand, and own that you are lost. That you are lost to honour, without God, Or fame, or increase of prosperity ? Otho And yet we soon shall part; you break the fetters, Giving me death. I could be critical Of these grey brows, so wan you look, so old ; There is so much in you of yesterday, And nothing of forever. And this paint — How coarse and foolish ! I have been beguiled, Mocked as great Ajax, Somewhere in the sun At last he turned and offered sacrifice. Stephania [Breaking from the E?nperor) I cannot hurt him, who have made myself A harlot to secure his infamy. To stamp him for perdition : I am wronged. [She walks to the crucifix^ dashes it to the earthy and stands on the base of the altar) O Voice, O Vision, smoky Covenant In the horror of great darkness, I appeal 96 Stephania To Thee, keep faith ! By each unbroken pledge Of Thine — the rainbow arches, and the sea Held chafing in Thy curb, by night and day, And by the still recurrence of the stars — I make complaint. If retribution fail, Then must Thy fair works perish, for Thou art Of no immortal mould. {She comes down from the altar and advances towards Otho) I have been slow The way of nature ; as the gathering storm I have been patient. (31? Otho) Is it not too late ' To think of penitence, to think of lying Royal and vanquished at the feet of God ? Are you not wrecked and damned? For you the devils, For you — ^not even the wanton I became, But womankind forbidden, and the thirst, Hunger and thirst of lust unquenchable. This is your portion, and no dreamy hell. Wake, know yourself! Otho It is too late for dreams ; I have no hope to travel toward the feast. The Bridegroom's voice ; I do not knock or plead ; I shall have no possession, but desire That will grow old and weary not. The joy Is in the summons, not the destiny ; God calls me, not the devils, to His fire; 97 • H Stephania And though I burn amid blaspheming jeers There will be no more pain. {Raising himself) If I had strength, Since God has willed it, to abandon Rome, And forth into the country ! . . . Those blue flowers At bottom of the hillside, cool and blue. And the great, rugged hand to sprinkle me With ashes — I can see it to the end. {He bows and prays) Stephania How he has passed beyond me ! I retain No terror for him while these hateful clothes Make havoc of my beauty. I have lost, fool, my virtue, my reality. {She tears the shroud from her breast and pulls down her hair from the fat folds of her white hood) Otho {^ietly uncovering his face) No more re- nunciation, failure, task Impossible, or deep, withdrawn delight In all the future — nothing more to dread ; For, if it may not be I shall attain, 1 can set forth. {He lifts himself firmly from the couch) Stephania You do not say farewell. Otho I had forgotten you. How lone you stand And beautiful. Have you untressed your hair To shear it for some sacrifice ? A pagan, A temptress ! O Stephania, on your bosom My life has gone to ruins in its youth : 98 Stephania I was so sad, and I so dreamt of love. But you have had your hour. I will not leave you With any poor reproach upon my lips That have received your bounty, any rancour In looks that drained the golden light of yours, And now must perish darkling : all my senses Reach after you with homage, and though dim And shattered by your poison find in loss Of you their endless death. To say farewell Is once again to strain you in my arms. To kiss you with one kiss till I am mad. . . . [Js he comes to her^ he draws himself back suddenly with a loud cry) My God, have mercy and deliver me ! {He covers his eyes^ trembling ; with a fearful effort he passes out by the door ; his footfall is heard^ and the low^ harsh noise of a sob. Then the steps grow distant) Stephania Rome's hills rise sevenfold as deadly plagues To compass those who trample and pollute, Who dream they can possess her. He is gone. Great Consul, and once more I am thy wife. Myself hath cleansed myself : so whole my love That I can turn the wicked into hell As unperturbed as God. My chastity Hath never broken ice through all the lust And fervour of temptation. . . . He has reached The gates ere now 5 my Rome is rid of him, 99 Stephania Is rid of the usurper, and again, Crescei^tius, I put on thy marriage-ring. We will be sculptured on a monument Together, side by side, and hand in hand. As any mortal pair that had their part Of joy and sorrow and then sank in death — The wife, the husband ! Though thou hast no tomb, My Consul, though thine ashes are dispersed As dust about the Roman streets, to-night I will sit down before Saint-Angelo, Where I have sat so long beside thy corpse. And while the earth goes her accustomed way, And while the sun, far on his solemn round. Is casting the same shadows on the roofs. The same shade on the dial, bow my heart In awe of the great triumph I have won For Italy, my womanhood, and thee. 100 PRESS NOTICES OF SIGHT AND SONG By Michael Field (ELKIN MATHEWS & JOHN LANE, 1892) *'A volume . . quite remarkable for its beautiful tranquil art, its catefj^l felicity of phrase,, its exquisitely delicate sense of colour.*' — Z>a9ly Chronicle, **iV pleasant interlude to this artistes more strenuous work. . . A most Keats-like thing." — Academy, *^ Sight and Song is distinctly a book to welcome , . . there is not merely highly-wrought and often very felicitous verbal descrip- tion, but that rarer gift of intimately conveying the sentiment of the .picture." — Weekly Register, *-The verses themselves . . . ai;e all exceedingly interesting, and some of them exquisite. " — Speaker, "As poetic exercises, the pieces are exceedingly curious, and are worth careful study by our younger versifiers. They will see in them how much meaning can be extracted by close and sympathetic obser- vation from the beauty and poetry embalmed in lines and colour by the masters of a great art." — Glasgow Herald, **To all those that w6uld learn (i) how not to look at pictures, and (2) how not to writ^ verse, it is hereby commended with enthusiasm." — National Observer, I THE TRAGIC MARY r "The lines are adapted to the voice; they are, as it were, bom of the vocal chords, and seem to call for utterance. They swim along in the wide currents of pensive emotions ; they break over the rocks of passion ; their multiple rhythms express all haste and hurry of speech, and it is this very vocal quality that forcibly differentiates Mr. Swinburne's blank verse from that of Michael Field." — St. James^ Gazette, ^ ** The Tragic Mary^ while far from faultless in execution, is a finely- conceived drama." — Spectator, ** It holds the reader bound and fascinated, as tragedy should ; it leaves him calmed and satisfied, and that too is proper to tragedy. As regards Mary herself, the play is finely impartial. It well represents the woman, from whom, as naturally as from Lucian de Rubempre, might have come the great desire, ** d'etre celebre et d'etre aime ;" the woman whose constant boast it was — ** my heart is great, ^^ — Academy, ** Some of these things are only extravagant, others approach insanity. Rather than accept such * forcible feeble ' utterance for verse we would dispense with verse altogether." — Athenceum, "At best, how lovely is the work, how lofty of vision, how keen in subtlety !" — Boston Herald, ** The Tragic Mary may rank with its author's highest achievements ; it is an example of a vividly dramatic rendering of history, of the moulding of veritable records into a moving and memorable work of art." — Scottish Leader, *' It is, on the whole, the most powerful picture ever given of Mary, of Darnley, and of Bothwell."— r^^^ Nation, November, iSgz, ELKIN MATHEWS iff JOHN LANE'S feief of (l>elB anb Sorf ^comina Q^ocSe. r SYMONDS (John Addington) In the Key of Blue, and other Prose Essays, with cover specially designed by C. S. Ricketts. Crown 8vo. Ss, dd. net. Also 50 copies on Whatman hand-made paper. £1. is. net. SCOTT (William Bell) A Poet's Harvest Home, with an Aftermath. Post i2mo. 5^. net. Also 50 copies on Japanese vellum. 12s. 6d. net. 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