ACT V

_The uninitiated_ Druses, _filling the hall tumultuously, and speaking together._

Here flock we, obeying the summons. Lo, Hakeem hath appeared, and the Prefect is dead, and we return to Lebanon! My manufacture of goats' fleece must, I doubt, soon fall away there. Come, old Nasif--link thine arm in mine--we fight, if needs be. Come, what is a great fight-word?--"Lebanon?" (My daughter--my daughter!)--But is Khalil to have the office of Hamza?--Nay, rather, if he be wise, the monopoly of henna and cloves. Where is Hakeem?--The only prophet I ever saw, prophesied at Cairo once, in my youth: a little black Copht, dressed all in black too, with a great stripe of yellow cloth flapping down behind him like the back-fin of a water-serpent. Is this he? Biamrallah! Biamreh! HAKEEM!

(_Enter the_ NUNCIO, _with_ Guards.)

_Nuncio._ [_To his_ Attendants.] Hold both, the sorcerer and this accomplice Ye talk of, that accuseth him! And tell Sir Loys he is mine, the Church's hope: Bid him approve himself our Knight indeed! Lo, this black disemboguing of the Isle! [_To the_ Druses.] Ah, children, what a sight for these old eyes That kept themselves alive this voyage through To smile their very last on you! I came To gather one and all you wandering sheep Into my fold, as though a father came ... As though, in coming, a father should ... [_To his_ Guards.] (Ten, twelve --Twelve guards of you, and not an outlet? None? The wizards stop each avenue? Keep close!) [_To the_ Druses.] As if one came to a son's house, I say, So did I come--no guard with me--to find ... Alas--alas!

_A Druse._ Who is the old man?

_Another._ Oh, ye are to shout! Children, he styles you.

_Druses._ Ay, the Prefect's slain! Glory to the Khalif, our Father!

_Nuncio._ Even so! I find (ye prompt aright) your father slain! While most he plotted for your good, that father (Alas, how kind, ye never knew)--lies slain! [_Aside._] (And hell's worm gnaw the glozing knave--with me, For being duped by his cajoleries! Are these the Christians? These the docile crew My bezants went to make me Bishop o'er?) [_To his_ Attendants, _who whisper_.] What say ye does this wizard style himself? Hakeem? Biamrallah? The third Fatemite? What is this jargon? He--the insane Khalif, Dead near three hundred years ago, come back In flesh and blood again?

_Druses._ He mutters! Hear ye? He is blaspheming Hakeem. The old man Is our dead Prefect's friend. Tear him!

_Nuncio._ Ye dare not! I stand here with my five-and-seventy years, The Patriarch's power behind me, God's above! Those years have witnessed sin enough; ere now Misguided men arose against their lords, And found excuse; but ye, to be enslaved By sorceries, cheats--alas! the same tricks, tried On my poor children in this nook o' the earth, Could triumph, that have been successively Exploded, laughed to scorn, all nations through: "_Romaioi, Ioudaioite kai proselutoi_, Cretes and Arabians,"--you are duped the last. Said I, refrain from tearing me? I pray ye Tear me! Shall I return to tell the Patriarch That so much love was wasted--every gift Rejected, from his benison I brought, Down to the galley-full of bezants, sunk An hour since at the harbor's mouth, by that ... That ... never will I speak his hated name! [_To his_ Servants.] What was the name his fellow slip-fetter Called their arch-wizard by? [_They whisper._] Oh, Djabal was't?

_Druses._ But how a sorcerer? false wherein?

_Nuncio._ (Ay, Djabal!) How false? Ye know not, Djabal has confessed ... Nay, that by tokens found on him we learn ... What I sailed hither solely to divulge-- How by his spells the demons were allured To seize you: not that these be aught save lies And mere illusions. Is this clear? I say, By measures such as these, he would have led you Into a monstrous ruin: follow ye? Say, shall ye perish for his sake, my sons?

_Druses._ Hark ye!

_Nuncio._ --Be of one privilege amerced? No! Infinite the Patriarch's mercies are! No! With the Patriarch's license, still I bid Tear him to pieces who misled you! Haste!

_Druses._ The old man's beard shakes, and his eyes are white fire! After all, I know nothing of Djabal beyond what Karshook says; he knows but what Khalil says, who knows just what Djabal says himself. Now, the little Copht Prophet, I saw at Cairo in my youth, began by promising each bystander three full measures of wheat ...

(_Enter_ KHALIL _and the initiated_ Druses.)

_Kha._ Venice and her deliverance are at hand: Their fleet stands through the harbor! Hath he slain The Prefect yet? Is Djabal's change come yet?

_Nuncio._ [_To_ Attendants.] What's this of Venice? Who's this boy? [Attendants _whisper_.] One Khalil? Djabal's accomplice, Loys called, but now, The only Druse, save Djabal's self, to fear? [_To the_ Druses.] I cannot hear ye with these aged ears; Is it so? Ye would have my troops assist? Doth he abet him in his sorceries? Down with the cheat, guards, as my children bid! [_They spring at_ KHALIL; _as he beats them back_. Stay! No more bloodshed! Spare deluded youth! Whom seek'st thou? (I will teach him)--whom, my child? Thou know'st not what these know, what these declare. I am an old man, as thou seest--have done With life; and what should move me but the truth? Art thou the only fond one of thy tribe? 'T is I interpret for thy tribe!

_Kha._ Oh, this Is the expected Nuncio! Druses, hear-- Endure ye this? Unworthy to partake The glory Hakeem gains you! While I speak, The ships touch land: who makes for Lebanon? They plant the wingèd lion in these halls!

_Nuncio._ [_Aside._] If it be true! Venice? Oh, never true! Yet Venice would so gladly thwart our Knights, So fain get footing here, stand close by Rhodes! Oh, to be duped this way!

_Kha._ Ere he appear And lead you gloriously, repent, I say!

_Nuncio._ [_Aside._] Nor any way to stretch the arch-wizard stark Ere the Venetians come? Cut off the head, The trunk were easily stilled. [_To the_ Druses.] He? Bring him forth! Since so you needs will have it, I assent! You 'd judge him, say you, on the spot?--confound The sorcerer in his very circle? Where 's Our short black-bearded sallow friend who swore He 'd earn the Patriarch's guerdon by one stab? Bring Djabal forth at once!

_Druses._ Ay, bring him forth! The Patriarch drives a trade in oil and silk, And we 're the Patriarch's children--true men, we! Where is the glory? Show us all the glory!

_Kha._ You dare not so insult him! What, not see ... (I tell thee, Nuncio, these are uninstructed, Untrusted--they know nothing of our Khalif!) --Not see that if he lets a doubt arise 'T is but to give yourselves the chance of seeming To have some influence in your own return! That all may say ye would have trusted him Without the all-convincing glory--ay, And did! Embrace the occasion, friends! For, think-- What wonder when his change takes place? But now For your sakes, he should not reveal himself. No--could I ask and have, I would not ask The change yet! (_Enter_ DJABAL _and_ LOYS.) Spite of all, reveal thyself! I had said, pardon them for me--for Anael-- For our sakes pardon these besotted men-- Ay, for thine own--they hurt not thee! Yet now One thought swells in me and keeps down all else. This Nuncio couples shame with thee, has called Imposture thy whole course, all bitter things Has said: he is but an old fretful man! Hakeem--nay, I must call thee Hakeem now-- Reveal thyself! See! Where is Anael? See!

_Loys._ [_To_ DJA.] Here are thy people! Keep thy word to me!

_Dja._ Who of my people hath accused me?

_Nuncio._ So! So this is Djabal, Hakeem, and what not? A fit deed, Loys, for thy first Knight's day! May it be augury of thy after-life! Ever prove truncheon of the Church as now That, Nuncio of the Patriarch, having charge Of the Isle here, I claim thee [_turning to_ DJA.] as these bid me, Forfeit for murder done thy lawful prince, Thou conjurer that peep'st and mutterest! Why should I hold thee from their hands? (Spells, children? But hear how I dispose of all his spells!) Thou art a prophet?--wouldst entice thy tribe From me?--thou workest miracles? (Attend! Let him but move me with his spells!) I, Nuncio ...

_Dja._ ... Which how thou camest to be, I say not now, Though I have also been at Stamboul, Luke! Ply thee with spells, forsooth! What need of spells? If Venice, in her Admiral's person, stoop To ratify thy compact with her foe, The Hospitallers, for this Isle--withdraw Her warrant of the deed which reinstates My people in their freedom, tricked away By him I slew,--refuse to convoy us To Lebanon and keep the Isle we leave-- Then will be time to try what spells can do! Dost thou dispute the Republic's power?

_Nuncio._ Lo ye! He tempts me too, the wily exorcist! No! The renowned Republic was and is The Patriarch's friend: 't is not for courting Venice That I--that these implore thy blood of me! Lo ye, the subtle miscreant! Ha, so subtle? Ye Druses, hear him! Will ye be deceived? How he evades me! Where 's the miracle He works? I bid him to the proof--fish up Your galley full of bezants that he sank! That were a miracle! One miracle! Enough of trifling, for it chafes my years. I am the Nuncio, Druses! I stand forth To save you from the good Republic's rage When she shall find her fleet was summoned here To aid the mummeries of a knave like this! [_As the_ Druses _hesitate, his_ Attendants _whisper._ Ah, well suggested! Why, we hold the while One who, his close confederate till now, Confesses Diabal at the last a cheat, And every miracle a cheat! Who throws me His head? I make three offers, once I offer,-- And twice ...

_Dja._ Let who moves perish at my foot!

_Kha._ Thanks, Hakeem, thanks! Oh, Anael, Maani, Why tarry they?

_Druses._ [_To each other._] He can! He can! Live fire-- [_To the_ NUNCIO.] I say he can, old man! Thou know'st him not. Live fire like that thou seest now in his eyes, Plays fawning round him. See! The change begins! All the brow lightens as he lifts his arm! Look not at me! It was not I!

_Dja._ What Druse Accused me, as he saith? I bid each bone Crumble within that Druse! None, Loys, none Of my own people, as thou said'st, have raised A voice against me.

_Nuncio._ [_Aside._] Venice to come! Death!

_Dja._ [_Continuing._] Confess and go unscathed, however false! Seest thou my Druses, Luke? I would submit To thy pure malice did one Druse confess! How said I, Loys?

_Nuncio._ [_To his_ Attendants _who whisper._] Ah, ye counsel so? [_Aloud._] Bring in the witness, then, who, first of all, Disclosed the treason! Now I have thee, wizard! Ye hear that? If one speaks, he bids you tear him Joint after joint: well then, one does speak! One, Befooled by Djabal, even as yourselves, But who hath voluntarily proposed To expiate, by confessing thus, the fault Of having trusted him. [_They bring in a veiled_ Druse.

_Loys._ Now, Djabal, now!

_Nuncio._ Friend, Djabal fronts thee! Make a ring, sons. Speak! Expose this Djabal--what he was, and how; The wiles he used, the aims he cherished; all, Explicitly as late 't was spoken to these My servants: I absolve and pardon thee.

_Loys._ Thou hast the dagger ready, Djabal?

_Dja._ Speak, Recreant!

_Druses._ Stand back, fool! farther! Suddenly You shall see some huge serpent glide from under The empty vest, or down will thunder crash! Back, Khalil!

_Kha._ I go back? Thus go I back! [_To_ AN.] Unveil! Nay, thou shalt face the Khalif! Thus!

[_He tears away_ ANAEL'S _veil;_ DJABAL _folds his arms and bows his head; the_ Druses _fall back;_ LOYS _springs from the side of_ DJABAL _and the_ NUNCIO.

_Loys._ Then she was true--she only of them all! True to her eyes--may keep those glorious eyes, And now be mine, once again mine! Oh, Anael! Dared I think thee a partner in his crime-- That blood could soil that hand? nay, 't is mine--Anael, --Not mine?--Who offer thee before all these My heart, my sword, my name--so thou wilt say That Djabal, who affirms thou art his bride, Lies--say but that he lies!

_Dja._ Thou, Anael?

_Loys._ Nay, Djabal, nay, one chance for me--the last! Thou hast had every other; thou hast spoken Days, nights, what falsehood listed thee--let me Speak first now; I will speak now!

_Nuncio._ Loys, pause! Thou art the Duke's son, Bretagne's choicest stock, Loys of Dreux, God's sepulchre's first sword: This wilt thou spit on, this degrade, this trample To earth?

_Loys._ [_To_ AN.] Who had foreseen that one day, Loys Would stake these gifts against some other good In the whole world? I give them thee! I would My strong will might bestow real shape on them, That I might see, with my own eyes, thy foot Tread on their very neck! 'T is not by gifts I put aside this Djabal: we will stand-- We do stand, see, two men! Djabal, stand forth! Who's worth her, I or thou? I--who for Anael Uprightly, purely kept my way, the long True way--left thee each by-path, boldly lived Without the lies and blood,--or thou, or thou? Me! love me, Anael! Leave the blood and him! [_To_ DJA.] Now speak--now, quick on this that I have said,-- Thou with the blood, speak if thou art a man!

_Dja._ [_To_ AN.] And was it thou betrayedst me? 'T is well! I have deserved this of thee, and submit. Nor 't is much evil thou inflictest: life Ends here. The cedars shall not wave for us: For there was crime, and must be punishment. See fate! By thee I was seduced, by thee I perish: yet do I--can I repent? I with my Arab instinct, thwarted ever By my Frank policy,--and with, in turn, My Frank brain, thwarted by my Arab heart-- While these remained in equipoise, I lived --Nothing; had either been predominant, As a Frank schemer or an Arab mystic, I had been something;--now, each has destroyed The other--and behold, from out their crash, A third and better nature rises up-- My mere man's-nature! And I yield to it: I love thee, I who did not love before!

_An._ Djabal!

_Dja._ It seemed love, but it was not love: How could I love while thou adoredst me? Now thou despisest, art above me so Immeasurably! Thou, no other, doomest My death now; this my steel shall execute Thy judgment; I shall feel thy hand in it! Oh, luxury to worship, to submit, Transcended, doomed to death by thee!

_An._ My Djabal!

_Dja._ Dost hesitate? I force thee then! Approach, Druses! for I am out of reach of fate; No further evil waits me. Speak the doom! Hear, Druses, and hear, Nuncio, and hear, Loys!

_An._ HAKEEM! [_She falls dead._

[_The_ DRUSES _scream, grovelling before him_.

_Druses._ Ah, Hakeem!--not on me thy wrath! Biamrallah, pardon! never doubted I! Ha, dog, how sayest thou?

[_They surround and seize the_ NUNCIO _and his_ Guards. LOYS _flings himself upon the body of_ ANAEL, _on which_ DJABAL _continues to gaze as stupefied_.

_Nuncio._ Caitiffs! Have ye eyes? Whips, racks should teach you! What, his fools? his dupes? Leave me! unhand me!

_Kha._ [_Approaching_ DJABAL _timidly_.] Save her for my sake! She was already thine; she would have shared To-day thine exaltation: think, this day Her hair was plaited thus because of thee! Yes, feel the soft bright hair--feel!

_Nuncio._ [_Struggling with those who have seized him._] What, because His leman dies for him? You think it hard To die? Oh, would you were at Rhodes, and choice Of deaths should suit you!

_Kha._ [_Bending over_ ANAEL'S _body_.] Just restore her life! So little does it! there--the eyelids tremble! 'T was not my breath that made them: and the lips Move of themselves. I could restore her life! Hakeem, we have forgotten--have presumed On our free converse: we are better taught. See, I kiss--how I kiss thy garment's hem For her! She kisses it--Oh, take her deed In mine! Thou dost believe now, Anael?--See, She smiles! Were her lips open o'er the teeth Thus, when I spoke first? She believes in thee! Go not without her to the cedars, lord! Or leave us both--I cannot go alone! I have obeyed thee, if I dare so speak: Hath Hakeem thus forgot all Djabal knew? Thou feelest then my tears fall hot and fast Upon thy hand, and yet thou speakest not? Ere the Venetian trumpet sound--ere thou Exalt thyself, O Hakeem! save thou her!

_Nuncio._ And the accursed Republic will arrive And find me in their toils--dead, very like, Under their feet! What way--not one way yet To foil them? None? [_Observing_ DJABAL'S _face_.] What ails the Khalif? Ah, That ghastly face! A way to foil them yet! [_To the_ Druses.] Look to your Khalif, Druses! Is that face God Hakeem's? Where is triumph,--where is ... what Said he of exaltation--hath he promised So much to-day? Why then, exalt thyself! Cast off that husk, thy form, set free thy soul In splendor! Now, bear witness! here I stand-- I challenge him exalt himself, and I Become, for that, a Druse like all of you!

_The Druses._ Exalt thyself! Exalt thyself, O Hakeem!

_Dja._ [_Advances._] I can confess now all from first to last. There is no longer shame for me. I am ...

[_Here the Venetian trumpet sounds: the_ Druses _shout_, DJABAL'S _eye catches the expression of those about him, and, as the old dream comes back, he is again confident and inspired_.

--Am I not Hakeem? And ye would have crawled But yesterday within these impure courts Where now ye stand erect! Not grand enough? --What more could be conceded to such beasts As all of you, so sunk and base as you, Than a mere man? A man among such beasts Was miracle enough: yet him you doubt, Him you forsake, him fain would you destroy-- With the Venetians at your gate, the Nuncio Thus--(see the baffled hypocrite!) and, best, The Prefect there!

_Druses._ No, Hakeem, ever thine!

_Nuncio._ He lies--and twice he lies--and thrice he lies! Exalt thyself, Mahound! Exalt thyself!

_Dja._ Druses! we shall henceforth be far away-- Out of mere mortal ken--above the cedars-- But we shall see ye go, hear ye return, Repeopling the old solitudes,--through thee, My Khalil! Thou art full of me: I fill Thee full--my hands thus fill thee! Yester-eve, --Nay, but this morn, I deemed thee ignorant Of all to do, requiring word of mine To teach it: now, thou hast all gifts in one, With truth and purity go other gifts, All gifts come clustering to that. Go, lead My people home whate'er betide! [_Turning to the_ Druses.] Ye take This Khalil for my delegate? To him Bow as to me? He leads to Lebanon-- Ye follow?

_Druses._ We follow! Now exalt thyself!

_Dja._ [_Raises_ LOYS.] Then to thee, Loys! How I wronged thee, Loys! Yet, wronged, no less thou shalt have full revenge, Fit for thy noble self, revenge--and thus. Thou, loaded with such wrongs, the princely soul, The first sword of Christ's sepulchre--thou shalt Guard Khalil and my Druses home again! Justice, no less, God's justice and no more, For those I leave!--to seeking this, devote Some few days out of thy Knight's brilliant life: And, this obtained them, leave their Lebanon, My Druses' blessing in thine ears--(they shall Bless thee with blessing sure to have its way) --One cedar-blossom in thy ducal cap, One thought of Anael in thy heart,--perchance, One thought of him who thus, to bid thee speed, His last word to the living speaks! This done, Resume thy course, and, first amidst the first In Europe, take my heart along with thee! Go boldly, go serenely, go augustly-- What shall withstand thee then? [_He bends over_ ANAEL.] And last to thee! Ah, did I dream I was to have, this day, Exalted thee? A vain dream: hast thou not Won greater exaltation? What remains But press to thee, exalt myself to thee? Thus I exalt myself, set free my soul!

[_He stabs himself. As he falls, supported by_ KHALIL _and_ LOYS, _the_ VENETIANS _enter; the_ ADMIRAL _advances_.

_Admiral._ God and St. Mark for Venice! Plant the Lion!

[_At the clash of the planted standard, the_ Druses _shout, and move tumultuously forward_, LOYS _drawing his sword_.

_Dja._ [_Leading them a few steps between_ KHALIL _and_ LOYS.] On to the Mountain! At the Mountain, Druses! [_Dies._

A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON

A TRAGEDY

This play was written in 1843 at the request of Macready, and very rapidly, in four or five days. A misunderstanding with Macready, fully related in Mrs. Orr's _Life and Letters of Robert Browning_, I. 168-184, and in Mr. Gosse's _Personalia_, led to a breach between the two friends.

The play was received with great applause, but circumstances prevented it from being kept on the boards. It has, however, been reproduced both in England and in America, near the close of Browning's life and after his death. Helen Faucit, afterward Lady Martin, took the part of Mildred. The play was printed shortly after it first appeared, as No. V. of _Bells and Pomegranates_.

PERSONS

MILDRED TRESHAM. GUENDOLEN TRESHAM. THOROLD, Earl Tresham. AUSTIN TRESHAM. HENRY, Earl Mertoun. GERARD, and other Retainers of Lord Tresham.

TIME, 17--