Four Tragedies and Octavia (23 page)

CHORUS
: But what is this? The doors are opening…

One of the king's attendants comes, distraught;

See how he shakes his head. What is your news?

MESSENGER
: When Oedipus had understood the fate

Foretold for him and the undoubted truth

Of his disastrous birth; when he had laid

Upon himself the guilt of all the sin

Of which he stood convicted; with swift strides

Into the palace, to the fatal room,

He hurried with grim purpose. Like a lion

Prowling in Libyan fields, with angry face

And tawny tossing mane, so looked the king.

Black rage was in his brow and glaring eyes,

His groaning deep and wild, the cold sweat pouring

From every limb; with foaming lips he cursed

As the great torrent of his passion broke

From deep within his bosom. Who could say

What awful deed, matched to his destiny,

He planned within his own dark soul. ‘How long,'

He cried, ‘should I delay my punishment?

Where is the sword to strike this guilty breast?

Who will bring fire to burn or stones to crush me?

When will some bird of prey, some hungry tiger

Feed on my flesh? Thou cursed seat of sin,

Cithaeron, send the beasts out of thy forests,

Send thy wild dogs to tear me; send Agave

To do her work again! Dost thou fear death,

My soul? Fear not to die; ‘tis death alone

Can steal the innocent from fortune's grasp.'

    With that he laid his hand, his sinning hand

Upon his sword's hilt, and drew out the blade –

But spoke again: ‘Stay! Can so great a crime

Be paid for with so brief a penalty?

Will one stroke settle all your debts? To die –

Your father would require no more of you;

What of your mother? And the children born

Of sinful marriage? What will pay your debt

To them, and what, above all else, to her

Whose utter ruin is her chastisement

For your offence, your suffering motherland?

You owe them more than you can ever pay.

Let Nature change – if once she could defy

For one man, Oedipus, her own fixed laws,

When she devised new ways of generation –

Let her be changed again to punish me!

Let there be found a way for me to live

A second life and die a second death,

And live and die again, for every life

To pay with a repeated punishment.…

Use all your wits, doomed wretch; devise a way;

Let what can only once be done be done

Slowly; a long slow death. Think of a way,

A way which you must take alone, permitted

Neither to join the number of the dead

Nor dwell among the living. Die, yet die not!

Art thou prepared, my soul?' A flood of tears

Broke forth and poured a torrent down his cheeks.

‘What, only tears?' he cried. ‘Are drops of water

All that these eyes can spill? Let them be torn

Out of their sockets! O ye marriage-gods,

Will that content you? Let me dig them out!'

    Fury was in his voice and soul, his face

Blazed with a fire of passion, and those eyes

Seemed starting from their sockets of themselves.

Mingled in his wild looks were wrath and madness,

Rage and determination. With a groan,

A terrifying roar, he thrust his fingers

Into his eyes; and those wild orbs stared out

And seemed to rush to meet the hands they knew

And to obey their summons, offering

Themselves to their own fate. The fingers bent

And groped in haste to find the seeing eyes,

Then wrenched them from their roots and tore them out.

And still the fingers probed the open holes,

The nails scratched in the empty cavities

Which now gaped hollow where the eyes had been.

Still in his impotent despair the man

Raged on and on, and would not be content.

He tests his vision, holding up his head

Against the light, scanning the breadth of sky

With eyeless holes, to see if all is dark,

Then tears away the last remaining shreds

Left of the raggedly uprooted eyes.

His victory was won; he cried aloud

To all the gods: ‘Now spare my country, gods!

Now justice has been done; my debt is paid.

Here is the darkness that should fitly fall

Upon my marriage-bed.' Once more his face

And wounded brow were bathed, this time with blood

That poured in torrents from the broken veins.

CHORUS
: Fate guides us; let Fate have her way.
¹

No anxious thought of ours can change

The pattern of the web of destiny.

All that we do, all that is done to us,

Mortals on earth, comes from a power above.

Lachesis measures out the portions

Spun from her distaff, and no other hand

Can turn the spindle back.

All creatures move on their appointed paths;

In their beginning is their end.

God cannot change these things; they must go on,

Cause and effect in one unbroken chain.

For each of us, the order of our life

Goes on; no prayer can alter it.

Fear of his fate is many a man's undoing;

Many a man has come upon his fate

Just where he thought to hide from it.

OEDIPUS
: All's done – well done – my father is repaid.

This darkness is my peace. To what god's mercy

Owe I this blackness that enshrouds my head?

By whose decree are all my sins forgiven?

Escaped from your accusing witness, day,

Thank not your own hand, slayer of your father;

Daylight itself has run away from you;

This face is the true face of Oedipus.

CHORUS
: Here comes Jocasta, crazed… on hurrying feet…

Demented… like Agave in her madness

When she had torn her son's head from his shoulders

And knew what she had done. She hesitates…

She wants to speak to her afflicted husband,

Yet is afraid to speak. She is appalled

But pity overcomes her shame.… She speaks,

But haltingly.

JOCASTA
:          What shall I call you? Son?

You shake your head. Surely you are my son.

Are you ashamed to hear it? Speak, my son.

Will you not speak? Why do you turn away

Your empty eyes?

OEDIPUS
:                Who is it that forbids me

Darkness, and who would give me eyes again?

That is my mother's voice; it is my mother!

Then we have done our work in vain. We two

Must never meet again; we are accursed.

Let wide seas separate us, let the breadth

Of earth keep us apart; and if there be

Another earth below, where other stars

Look down, under a sun beyond our ken,

Be that the place for one of us.

JOCASTA
:                                    Blame Fate;

No man is blamed for what Fate does to him.

OEDIPUS
: Peace, mother; spare my ears, I do beseech you

By the last remnant of this ruined body,

By the ill-fated offspring of my blood,

By all that in the union of our names

Was good or evil.

JOCASTA
: Art thou dead, my soul?

As thou hast shared the guilt, canst thou not share

The punishment? Unclean, thou hast confounded

All that is noble in the state of man!

Die! Let a sword expel thy impious life!

Never could I, so curs'd in motherhood,

Pay the full forfeit for my sins – not though

The father of the gods who shakes the world

Should strike me with his fiery thunderbolts.

It must be death, and I must find a way.…

    Come then, have you a hand to help your mother?

If you could kill your father… this remains

For you to do.… Then let me take his sword,

The sword that killed my husband – no, not husband,

Father-in-law.… Where shall I strike? My breast?

Where plant the weapon – in my naked throat?…

You know where you must strike – no need to choose –

Strike here, my hand, strike at this teeming womb

Which gave me sons and husband!…

CHORUS
:                                                She is dead.

Her hand dies where it struck, the sword falls out

Expelled by the strong rush of blood.

OEDIPUS
:                                                Now hear me,

Guardian and god of truth, Fate's messenger!

One death, my father's, did the fates demand;

But now I have slain twice; I am more guilty

Than I had feared to be; my crimes have brought

My mother to her death. Phoebus, you lied!

I have done more than was set down for me

By evil destiny.… Now set your feet

Upon the dark road faltering, step by step,

With cautious fingers feeling through the night.

Onward, away… foot after stumbling foot.…

Away, begone this instant!… But beware –

Not that way, lest you fall upon your mother.

See, I am going, I am leaving you;

Lift up your heads, you that are weak and worn

With sickness and have scarce the heart to live.

There will be brighter skies when I am gone;

All those who on their sickbeds still have life

To cling to, shall have purer air to breathe.

Go, friends, and bring relief to those laid low.

When I go from you, I shall take away

All the infections of mortality

That have consumed this land. Come, deadly Fates,

Come, all grim spectres of Disease, black Plague,

Corruption and intolerable Pain!

Come with me! I could want no better guides.

Exeunt

OCTAVIA
,
wife of Nero

OCTAVIA'S NURSE

SENECA
,
minister to Nero

NERO
,
Emperor of Rome

A PREFECT

POPPAEA
,
mistress and afterwards wife of Nero

POPPAEA'S NURSE

MESSENGER

CHORUS
of Roman citizens

*

Scene: Rome, at the palace of Nero

OCTAVIA
: Resplendent Dawn is driving from the sky

The wandering stars, the giant Sun

Lifts up his golden hair to bring

Bright day back to the universe.

And what must I do, overcome

By ills so many and so great,

But tell again the oft-told tale

Of my distresses, shed more tears

Than the sea-haunting Halcyons

Or the bird-daughters of Pandion?
¹

Greater than theirs my misery.

Hear me, my mother, for whose fate

My tears must ever fall, from whom

All my afflictions spring.

O mother, hear your daughter's cry,

If in the house of death

Any perception still remains.

Would that the age-old spinner of my fate

Had cut my thread before that day

On which I wept to see

Your wounded side, your face besmeared with blood.

How hateful was the light of day,

Of every day thenceforth to this,

A light more dreaded than the darkest night;

While I have had to live

Under a vile stepmother's rule,

To bear her spiteful enmity

And angry looks.

She was my vengeful Fury, she

Lighted my marriage chamber

With Stygian torches, she destroyed

My hapless father's life;

Whom once the whole world, beyond Ocean's bounds,

Obeyed; whose captains put to rout

The Britons, till that day unknown and free.

And thou art dead, my father,

Struck down by a wife's wickedness,

Thy house and family a tyrant's slaves,

A tyrant's prisoners.

*

NURSE
:
¹
Does any man in envious amazement

Gape at the specious glories and vain joys

Of hollow monarchy – here let him learn

How Fortune's practised hand, that once upheld

And thrust into success, has now thrown down

The dynasty of Claudius; whose power

Ruled the whole world; at whose command the Ocean

Lost its long freedom and was forced to bear

His ships upon its tide. Here was the man

Who first made British necks to bow; whose fleets

In countless numbers covered unknown seas;

Who lived unharmed among barbaric tribes

And on tempestuous waters; and who died,

Slain by a wicked wife. As she too died

By malice of her son; whose brother
²
died

By poison. Here his sister, and his wife –

For she is both – rails at her sorry lot

With rage that cannot let her grief be hid.

Her cruel husband's private company

She loathes and shuns; he burns with equal fire

Of venomous hatred. Little consolation

Can all my duty and devotion bring

To her poor soul; her unremitting grief

Disdains my counsel; her proud indignation,

Beyond control of reason, grows the more

The more she suffers. Ah, what evil deeds

My fear foresees – which may the gods forbid!

OCTAVIA
: No other fate can equal mine,

    No other suffering compare,

Not though I should remember thine,

    Ill-starred Electra; thy despair

For father slain was not forbidden;

    Thou hadst a brother, whom thy care

And trustful love had saved and hidden,

    To avenge the crime. I do not dare

To mourn two parents lost, nor pray

    For brother dead; in whom the fair

Hope I might have of brighter day,

    And comfort in my sorrow, were.

Alone I live to weep my heavy fate,

Last lingering shadow of a name so great,

NURSE
: It is the voice of my unhappy child

That falls upon my ears.

Can these old feet forbear

To hurry to her room?…

OCTAVIA
: Ah, let me weep upon your breast,

Dear nurse, my ever faithful confidant in grief.

NURSE
: Poor soul, what day will ever bring

An end to so much sorrow?

OCTAVIA
: Only the day

That sends me to the Stygian darkness.

NURSE
: Far be that ominous day!

OCTAVIA
: Not your desire, dear nurse, but Fate

Now rules my destiny.

NURSE
: Your lot is hard, but God

In mercy yet will give

A brighter morrow to your darkness.

Will you not try to win your husband's love

By gentleness and service?

OCTAVIA
: ‘Twere easier to appease

A lion's wrath, a tiger's rage,

Than my imperious husband's heart.

All sons of noble blood

He hates, all gods and men

He scorns alike; he knows not how to use

His own good fortune and the place he won

By his vile parent's crimes;

For which – though he repudiate

The gift of empire so bestowed

By that fell mother, though he have rewarded

Her gift with death – yet after death

That woman till the end of time

Must bear that epitaph.

NURSE
: Nay, check those angry words,

Speak not so rashly, child.

OCTAVIA
: Ah, were these torments such as could be borne,

And were my patience strong enough to bear them,

Nothing but death could end my misery.

My mother and my father vilely slain,

My brother lost – now bowed beneath this weight

Of grief and bitterness and woe, I live

Under my husband's hate, my servant's scorn.

No day is joy to me, no hour not filled

With terror – not the fear of death alone,

But violent death. O Gods, let me not suffer

A criminal's death, and I will gladly die.

Is it not penance worse than death, to see,

As I must see, the black and angry looks

Of my imperious master, to accept

My enemy's kiss, to fear his lightest nod

Whose kindness would be pain unbearable

After the crime of my dear brother's death,

When he, the perpetrator of that crime,

Now holds the sceptre that was rightly his,

Secure in Fortune's favour? Many a time,

When sleep has come to soothe my weary limbs

And close these ever-weeping eyes, my brother's

Spirit in woeful form has come before me.

Sometimes his helpless hands aim angry blows

With smoking torches at his brother's face;

Sometimes he flees in panic to my chamber,

And while I cling to him, the enemy

Comes on, to thrust his sword through both our sides.

Terror and dread then shake me from my sleep

And start again the miseries and fears

That fill my wretched life. To add to this,

His haughty concubine goes proudly decked

In stolen riches of the royal house;

And for her sake it was that he, my husband,

Sent his own mother on a ship of death

To meet her death; but when she had outlived

The shipwreck and the peril of the sea,

He slew her with a sword – the ocean's waves

Were not so cruel as this murderous son.

If such things can be done, what hope of life

Remains for me? Now in her victory

With hate inflamed my hated rival waits

To dispossess me of my marriage-bed;

And for the price of her adulterous love

Demands the head of Nero's lawful wife.

O Father, hear my prayer! Come back from death

And save thy child! Or let the earth be rent

And Stygian gulfs laid open to receive me

Swiftly in their embrace.

NURSE
:                              That prayer is vain.

In vain you seek your father's spirit; now

In the grave he cares no longer for his own;

Else how could he have let another's son
¹

Usurp his own son's place? How could he stoop

To that unlawful lamentable marriage,

Taking his brother's daughter
²
for his wife?

That was the fount of all this wickedness,

This tale of murder and conspiracy,

Blind lust for power and savage thirst for blood.

When your betrothed Silanus
³
paid the price,

Upon your father's wedding day – struck down;

Lest to be husband of the prince's daughter

Might give him too much power… what wickedness!

A young man sacrificed to please a woman!

Falsely condemned, compelled to spill his blood

In his own hearth-gods' sight. Alas the day!

The enemy had gained possession now

And forced his entrance to our house; one stroke

Of your stepmother's guile had made him son

And son-in-law – this infamous young man,

Master of every evil art, whose mother

Kindled the marriage torch to make you his

Unwilling timorous bride. One victory

Inflamed her lust for more; the holy seat

Of worldwide empire now she dared to covet.

What tongue could tell the many shapes of sin,

The impious hopes, the smooth conspiracies

Conceived in this one woman's breast – a woman

Stepping from crime to crime to gain a throne.

Then pure Fidelity in terror fled

And left this palace empty for the feet

Of vengeful Fury, whose infernal fires

Ravaged this holy hearth, all nature's laws

And human right remorselessly confounding.

A wife compounded poison for her husband,

And died thereafter by her son's foul deed.

And thou, Britannicus, unhappy child,

Art dead and ever to be mourned, bright star

Of all the world, and of the royal house

The one strong pillar; now, alas, pale shadow

And dusty ash. His vile stepmother wept –

Ay, even she – when I gave up his corpse

To the cremating fire and when that face,

The likeness of the winged God himself,

And that fair body perished in the flames.

OCTAVIA
: Let him destroy me too – or I shall kill him!

NURSE
: You were not born with strength for such a thing.

OCTAVIA
: My pain, my rage, my grief, my suffering,

My agony will give me strength enough.

NURSE
: Rather, use gentleness to tame your husband.

OCTAVIA
: To make him give me back my murdered brother?

NURSE
: No, but to save your life, and to rebuild

With your own blood your father's ruined house.

OCTAVIA
: The royal house will soon receive new blood;

I share in my unhappy brother's doom.

NURSE
: Take courage from your faithful people's love.

OCTAVIA
: Comfort, not remedy, their love can give me.

NURSE
: The people's power is great.

OCTAVIA
:                                         The emperor's greater.

NURSE
: In time he will respect you as his wife.

OCTAVIA
: Not while his mistress lives; she will prevent it.

NURSE
: No one respects her.

OCTAVIA
:                               But her husband loves her.

NURSE
: He's not her husband, nor is she his wife.

OCTAVIA
: She will be soon, and mother of his child.

NURSE
: A young man's love is hot in its first flush,

And cools as quickly; in a lawless amour

'Tis no more lasting than a puff of smoke;

His love for a chaste wife will last for ever.

There was another once
¹
who dared to steal

Your husband from your bed, and, though a slave,

Long ruled her master's heart; she knew what fall

She had to fear –

OCTAVIA
:              The rise of her successor.

NURSE
: And she, deposed and humble, left behind

A monument of stone set up to be

A witness and confession of her fears.

This other too will find herself disowned

By the inconstant winged God of Love.

For all her eminent beauty, proud position,

Her triumph will be short.

    The Queen of goddesses herself

    Had the like pains to bear:

    The Lord of Heaven, Father of the Gods

    Would borrow many different shapes –

    A flying swan, a horn'd Sidonian bull,

    A falling shower of gold.

    Now Leda has her star in heaven,

    Bacchus his seat beside his father's throne,

    Alcides lives among the gods

    With Hebe for his wife;

    The wrath of Juno is appeased

    Since he whom once she hated is become

    Her son-in-law.
¹
That august wife

    Could curb her wrath and learn

    To conquer by compliance.

    Now none but Juno holds

    The Thunderer's love, no power

    Can move her from her heavenly couch,

    No mortal beauty now

    Tempts Jupiter to leave his court on high.

    You are a Juno upon earth,

    Sister and spouse of the August,

    And you must conquer grief.

OCTAVIA
: Sooner will come the day when raging seas