Chapter 43

at the Altar--Priests, etc., crowding in confusion, and Citizens flying for refuge, pursued by Soldiery_.

_Enter_ CÆSAR.

_A Spanish Soldier_. Down with them, comrades, seize upon those lamps! Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the chine! His rosary's of gold!

_Lutheran Soldier_. Revenge! revenge! Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance now-- Yonder stands Anti-Christ!

_Cæs._ (_interposing_). How now, schismatic? What wouldst thou?

_Luth. Sold._ In the holy name of Christ, Destroy proud Anti-Christ.[247] I am a Christian.

_Cæs._ Yea, a disciple that would make the founder Of your belief renounce it, could he see Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder. 10

_Luth. Sold._ I say he is the Devil.

_Cæs._ Hush! keep that secret,[ds] Lest he should recognise you for his own.

_Luth. Sold._ Why would you save him? I repeat he is The Devil, or the Devil's vicar upon earth.

_Cæs._ And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel With your best friends? You had far best be quiet; His hour is not yet come.

_Luth. Sold._ That shall be seen!

[_The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar_.

_Cæs._ (_to the Lutheran_). I told you so.

_Luth. Sold._ And will you not avenge me?

_Cæs._ Not I! You know that "Vengeance is the Lord's:" You see he loves no interlopers.

_Luth. Sold._ (_dying_). Oh! 20 Had I but slain him, I had gone on high, Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive My feebleness of arm that reached him not, And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth And ashes! [_The Lutheran dies_.

_Cæs._ Yes, thine own amidst the rest. Well done, old Babel!

[_The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo_.[248]

_Cæs._ Ha! right nobly battled! Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions, 30 Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then; Now they must take their turn.

_Soldiers_. He hath escaped! Follow!

_Another Sold._ They have barred the narrow passage up, And it is clogged with dead even to the door.

_Cæs._ I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't In part. I would not have his bulls abolished-- 'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences Demand some in return; no, no, he must not 40 Fall;--and besides, his now escape may furnish A future miracle, in future proof Of his infallibility. [_To the Spanish Soldiery_. Well, cut-throats! What do you pause for? If you make not haste, There will not be a link of pious gold left. And _you_, too, Catholics! Would ye return From such a pilgrimage without a relic? The very Lutherans have more true devotion: See how they strip the shrines!

_Soldiers_. By holy Peter! He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear 50 The best away.

_Cæs._ And that were shame! Go to! Assist in their conversion. [_The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Church, others enter_.

_Cæs._ They are gone, And others come: so flows the wave on wave Of what these creatures call Eternity, Deeming themselves the breakers of the Ocean, While they are but its bubbles, ignorant That foam is their foundation. So, another!

_Enter_ OLIMPIA, _flying from the pursuit--She springs upon the Altar_.

_Sold._ She's mine!

_Another Sold._ (_opposing the former_). You lie, I tracked her first: and were she The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. [_They fight_.

_3d Sold._ (_advancing towards_ OLIMPIA). You may settle Your claims; I'll make mine good.

_Olimp._ Infernal slave! 60 You touch me not alive.

_3d Sold._ Alive or dead!

_Olimp._ (_embracing a massive crucifix_). Respect your God!

_3d Sold._ Yes, when he shines in gold. Girl, you but grasp your dowry.

[_As he advances_, OLIMPIA, _with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls_.

_3d Sold._ Oh, great God!

_Olimp._ Ah! now you recognise him.

_3d Sold._ My brain's crushed! Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness! [He dies.

_Other Soldiers_ (_coming up_). Slay her, although she had a thousand lives: She hath killed our comrade.

_Olimp._ Welcome such a death! You have no life to give, which the worst slave Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming Son, And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as 70 I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee!

_Enter_ ARNOLD.

_Arn._ What do I see? Accurséd jackals! Forbear!

_Cæs._ (_aside and laughing_). Ha! ha! here's equity! The dogs Have as much right as he. But to the issue!

_Soldiers_. Count, she hath slain our comrade.

_Arn._ With what weapon?

_Sold._ The cross, beneath which he is crushed; behold him Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it Upon his head.

_Arn._ Even so: there is a woman Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye such, Ye would have honoured her. But get ye hence, 80 And thank your meanness, other God you have none, For your existence. Had you touched a hair Of those dishevelled locks, I would have thinned Your ranks more than the enemy. Away! Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves, But not even these till he permits.

_A Sold._ (_murmuring_). The lion Might conquer for himself then.

_Arn._ (_cuts him down_). Mutineer! Rebel in hell--you shall obey on earth! [_The Soldiers assault_ ARNOLD.

_Arn._ Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, slaves, How you should be commanded, and who led you 90 First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale, Until I waved my banners from its height, As you are bold within it. [ARNOLD _mows down the foremost; the rest throw down their arms_.

_Soldiers_. Mercy! mercy!

_Arn._ Then learn to grant it. Have I taught you _who_ Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements?

_Soldiers_. We saw it, and we know it; yet forgive A moment's error in the heat of conquest-- The conquest which you led to.

_Arn._ Get you hence! Hence to your quarters! you will find them fixed In the Colonna palace.

_Olimp._ (_aside_). In my father's 100 House!

_Arn._ (_to the Soldiers_). Leave your arms; ye have no further need Of such: the city's rendered. And mark well You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a stream As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism.

_Soldiers_ (_deposing their arms and departing_). We obey!

_Arn._ (_to_ OLIMPIA). Lady, you are safe.

_Olimp._ I should be so, Had I a knife even; but it matters not-- Death hath a thousand gates; and on the marble, Even at the altar foot, whence I look down Upon destruction, shall my head be dashed, Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man! 110

_Arn._ I wish to merit his forgiveness, and Thine own, although I have not injured thee.

_Olimp._ No! Thou hast only sacked my native land,-- No injury!--and made my father's house A den of thieves! No injury!--this temple-- Slippery with Roman and with holy gore! No injury! And now thou wouldst preserve me, To be----but that shall never be!

[_She raises her eyes to Heaven, folds her robe round her, and prepares to dash herself down on the side of the Altar opposite to that where_ ARNOLD _stands_.

_Arn._ Hold! hold! I swear.

_Olimp._ Spare thine already forfeit soul A perjury for which even Hell would loathe thee. 120 I know thee.

_Arn._ No, thou know'st me not; I am not Of these men, though----

_Olimp._ I judge thee by thy mates; It is for God to judge thee as thou art. I see thee purple with the blood of Rome; Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me, And here, upon the marble of this temple, Where the baptismal font baptized me God's, I offer him a blood less holy But not less pure (pure as it left me then, A redeeméd infant) than the holy water 130 The saints have sanctified!

[OLIMPIA _waves her hand to_ ARNOLD _with disdain, and dashes herself on the pavement from the Altar_.

_Arn._ Eternal God! I feel thee now! Help! help! she's gone.

_Cæs._ (_approaches_). I am here.

_Arn._ Thou! but oh, save her!

_Cæs._ (_assisting him to raise_ OLIMPIA). She hath done it well! The leap was serious.

_Arn._ Oh! she is lifeless!

_Cæs._ If She be so, I have nought to do with that: The resurrection is beyond me.

_Arn._ Slave!

_Cæs._ Aye, slave or master, 'tis all one: methinks Good words, however, are as well at times.

_Arn._ Words!--Canst thou aid her?

_Cæs._ I will try. A sprinkling Of that same holy water may be useful. 140 [_He brings some in his helmet from the font_.

_Arn._ 'Tis mixed with blood.

_Cæs._ There is no cleaner now In Rome.

_Arn._ How pale! how beautiful! how lifeless! Alive or dead, thou Essence of all Beauty, I love but thee!

_Cæs._ Even so Achilles loved Penthesilea;[249] with his form it seems You have his heart, and yet it was no soft one.

_Arn._ She breathes! But no, 'twas nothing, or the last Faint flutter Life disputes with Death.

_Cæs._ She breathes.

_Arn._ _Thou_ say'st it? Then 'tis truth.

_Cæs._ You do me right-- The Devil speaks truth much oftener than he's deemed: 150 He hath an ignorant audience.

_Arn._ (_without attending to him_). Yes! her heart beats. Alas! that the first beat of the only heart I ever wished to beat with mine should vibrate To an assassin's pulse.

_Cæs._ A sage reflection, But somewhat late i' the day. Where shall we bear her? I say she lives.

_Arn._ And will she live?

_Cas._ As much As dust can.

_Arn._ Then she is dead!

_Cæs._ Bah! bah! You are so, And do not know it. She will come to life-- Such as you think so, such as you now are; But we must work by human means.

_Arn._ We will 160 Convey her unto the Colonna palace, Where I have pitched my banner.

_Cæs._ Come then! raise her up!

_Arn._ Softly!

_Cæs._ As softly as they bear the dead, Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting.

_Arn._ But doth she live indeed?

_Cæs._ Nay, never fear! But, if you rue it after, blame not me.

_Arn._ Let her but live!

_Cæs._ The Spirit of her life Is yet within her breast, and may revive. Count! count! I am your servant in all things, And this is a new office:--'tis not oft 170 I am employed in such; but you perceive How staunch a friend is what you call a fiend. On earth you have often only fiends for friends; Now _I_ desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence, The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit! I am almost enamoured of her, as Of old the Angels of her earliest sex.[250]

_Arn._ Thou!

_Cæs._ I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival.

_Arn._ Rival!

_Cæs._ I could be one right formidable; But since I slew the seven husbands of 180 Tobias' future bride (and after all Was smoked out by some incense),[251] I have laid Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble Of gaining, or--what is more difficult-- Getting rid of your prize again; for there's The rub! at least to mortals.

_Arn._ Prithee, peace! Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes open!

_Cæs._ Like stars, no doubt; for that's a metaphor For Lucifer and Venus.

_Arn._ To the palace Colonna, as I told you!

_Cæs._ Oh! I know 190 My way through Rome.

_Arn._ Now onward, onward! Gently! [_Exeunt, bearing_ OLIMPIA. _The scene closes_.