Four Tragedies and Octavia (26 page)

Because of you, base son – because of me,

Mother of such a son – but grief and shame

Until the end of time. Why should I stay,

And not be quick to hide in deepest hell

The face of a stepmother, mother, wife,

Face of calamity for all her kin?

*

OCTAVIA
: Weep not, my friends; this day
¹

Of public gladness and festivity

Must not be marred by tears.

To show your love

And favour in my cause

So plainly, might enrage our emperor

And bring you sorrow for my sake.

My heart has borne such wounds before;

I have had worse to bear.

This day will see the end,

Be it by death, of my afflictions.

I shall no more be forced to see

My husband's angry frown,

No longer be a slave

In a detested marriage bed.

No more his wife, but still the emperor's sister

I shall be called; and well content,

If I am spared the penalty

And pain of death…

Have you such hope… fond hope,

Poor fool, when you remember

That evil man's iniquities?

No; for today's glad rite

You are the victim long prepared,

You are its sacrifice.

Look back no longer on your home and gods

With weeping eyes! Away!

Fly from this house, fly from this emperor's

Blood-stricken court!…

CHORUS
: So dawns the day that we have feared,

The day those many rumours heralded.

Octavia has been set aside,

Banished from the harsh emperor's bed,

And in her place

Victorious Poppaea reigns.

By fear oppressed

Our loyalty must hide its face,

Our grief be dumb.

Where is that Roman people's strength,

The strength that broke ere now

So many great men's power;

That gave, in days gone by, just laws

To our unconquered land, authority

To men of worth;

Voted for war or peace, tamed savage tribes,

Kept captive kings in chains?

Today on every side offends our eyes

The dazzling image of Poppaea

Coupled with Nero.

Let us not spare them!

Tear them down to the ground!

Down with these too true likenesses

Of her imperial highness!

Down with her, too, from her exalted bed!

Then on to the emperor's house

With fire and sword!…

*

POPPAEA'S NURSE
: Child, why this haste to leave your husband's chamber?

What is the meaning of that anxious look?

Where are you hurrying to hide yourself?

Wherefore these tears upon your cheeks? Surely

This day's bright dawn has answered all our prayers,

Our vows to the good gods; by marriage rites

You are united with your Emperor;

Whose heart your beauty captured; whom great Venus,

Goddess supreme, by holy rites adored,

Mother of Love, has made your prisoner.

Ah, what a picture! When you took your seat

Upon the cushioned divan in the palace!

How the assembled senators were rapt

With wonder at your beauty, as you offered

Incense to the high gods, and poured thank-offering

Of consecrated wine upon their altars!

The golden veil that delicately floated

About your head! And when the Emperor,

Close by your side, his body pressed to yours,

So proudly walked, his happiness proclaimed

In every feature of his face and bearing!

So Peleus must have walked, to meet his bride

Thetis emerging from the frothing sea, –

A wedding celebrated by the gods,

As stories tell, of heaven above and all

The sea's divinities with like acclaim.

And now, what chance has changed those smiles to tears?

Why do you look so pale? Why do you weep?

POPPAEA
: The bygone night, dear Nurse, a night of fear

And dreadful visions, has confused my mind

And robbed me of my senses; I am lost.

The pleasant light of day had given place

To starry darkness, night possessed the sky,

And cradled in my Nero's close embrace

I fell asleep. But it was not to be

A long untroubled sleep; soon my whole room

Seemed thronged with a complaining multitude –

Women of Rome, mothers, with hair unbound,

Who wept and beat their breasts in lamentation.

And to a terrible continuing sound

Of trumpets, there my husband's mother stood

Grasping a blood-stained torch, her awful visage

Threatening dire vengeance. In her steps I followed,

By fear compelled, and lo, before my feet

A huge abyss lay opened in the ground,

Where, falling sheer into its depths, I saw,

And was amazed to see, my marriage bed,

On which I sank exhausted. Then appeared

My former husband, with some friends around him,

And his young son. Crispinus hurried forward

As if to take me in his arms and taste

The lips that were no longer his to touch;

But Nero in a frenzy forced his way

Into my room and thrust a deadly sword

Into my husband's throat. By now my terror

Had roused me from my sleep, and trembling seized

Each bone and limb; my heart leapt in my breast;

But silent I concealed my fearful secret,

Which now your faithful love has drawn from me.

What can it mean? What is this punishment

That the dead spirits have prepared for me?

Why was I forced to see my husband's blood?

NURSE
: In sleep some power mysterious and divine,

Some swift perception, gives a visible shape

To whatsoever motions in the mind

Its restless energy stirs up. No wonder

You dreamed of husbands and a marriage bed,

While lying in your second husband's arms;

There's nothing strange in that. And were you shocked

By lamentations, beating hands, tossed hair,

Upon a festal day? They were lamenting

The separation of Octavia

From her own brother's house, her father's gods.

The brand which, waved before you by Augusta,

You followed, is a symbol of the name,

The illustrious name which has been won for you

Out of the dark of hate. The infernal powers,

Whose den you saw, promise the permanence

Of your new marriage, and to this your house

Eternal life. The blade buried in blood

By Nero's hand shows he will not unleash

New war, but sheathe the sword in lasting peace.

Take courage then, be comforted, my child;

Have no more fear, and go back to your bed.

POPPAEA
: It was my purpose to approach the altars

And holy shrines, and with a sacrifice

Beseech the powers of heaven to avert

The menace of these visions of the night

And turn my fears upon my enemies' heads.

Pray you for me, too, and entreat the gods

That all this present dread may pass away.

*

CHORUS
: If all the tales are true

That history so eloquently tells

Of the clandestine loves

Of Jove the Thunderer –

How he became a winged and feathered bird

To lie upon the breast of Leda;

And in the likeness of a savage bull

Carried Europa through the sea –

Once more, for you, Poppaea,

He will desert his kingdom of the stars,

To seek embraces which he must prefer

To those of Leda, or of Danae

Before whose wondering eyes

He fell as a bright shower of gold.

Let Sparta praise her daughter's beauty,

And the young Phrygian shepherd

Boast of his prize;
¹

We have one here, a face

More lovely than the Tyndarid –

That face that launched a lamentable war

And brought the throne of Phrygia to the ground.

But who comes here?

Breathless his haste, and stumbling steps…

What news?

MESSENGER
:
²
Let every soldier of the royal guard

Defend the safety of the emperor's house

Against the angry mob that threatens it!

Look, where the officers in desperate haste

Are hurrying troops to man the city walls.

This insurrection, born of headstrong folly,

Will not be checked by fear, but grows the stronger.

CHORUS
: What stroke of madness has bemused these people?

MESSENGER
: Kindled with zeal upon Octavia's part,

The fury of the mob is bent on mischief.

CHORUS
: What is their plan? What have they dared to do?

MESSENGER
: They mean to win back for Octavia

Her place, her right to be her brother's consort

And partner of his throne.

CHORUS
:                              Although Poppaea

Is now his lawful and accepted wife?

MESSENGER
: That is their desperate policy, which now

Fills them with fire and urges on their haste

To acts of madness. Every graven image,

Each polished bronze or gleaming marble statue

Bearing the features of Poppaea, lies

Demolished by the mob or overturned

By iron weapons; the dismembered limbs

Are being dragged away with knotted ropes,

Kicked, trampled under foot, and fouled with dirt,

With insults added to these injuries

In words such as I dare not here repeat.

They are about to ring the emperor's house

With fire, unless he will forthwith surrender

His new wife to the angry populace

And own defeat, leaving Octavia

Safe in possession of her house and home.

My orders from the prefect are to bring

These tidings of the popular revolt

To the emperor in person; and this charge

I must with haste deliver.…

CHORUS
: But what avails the violence of war?

Love's weapons are invincible;

His fires will stifle yours,

His fires have quenched the lightning

And brought Jove captive out of heaven.

You will pay dearly with your blood for this.

Love has no mercy; roused to anger

He is not patient of restraint.

Under his orders bold Achilles

Became a minstrel; to his power

The Greeks and Agamemnon fell.

He broke great Priam's kingdom, overthrew

Many a splendid city; and today

What harm this ruthless god's fierce rage

Will do to us, I dare not guess.…

NERO
: Too slow, too soft my soldiers' hands! Too weak

My anger at such outrages! Not yet

Drowned in the people's blood those people's torches

Fired to destroy me? Not yet soaked in slaughter

Those cursed streets of Rome, where such men breed?

No! death is far too small a punishment

For such offences; this mob's sacrilege

Deserves far worse. As for that dangerous wife

And sister, whom I long suspect of guilt,

Whom these crazed citizens would have to rule me,

She shall no longer live, but render up

Her spirit to my wrath, and quench my rage

In her own blood. Then, let this city's roofs

Sink in the fires that I shall send upon her!

Let burning ruin, squalor, poverty,

Starvation and bereavement fall upon

Her sinful people's heads. Now in its pride

The monstrous mob, ungrateful, and corrupted

By the good gifts of these beneficent times,

Cannot abide our gentle rule, hates peace,

And ever discontented, now defiant,

Now reckless, rushes onward to its doom.

It must be tamed by suffering, must be held

At all times under an oppressive yoke;

No other way will teach it to beware

Of making any other such attempt,

Nor dare to lift up its rebellious eyes

Against the saintly face of my loved spouse.

The spirit of the people shall be broken

By punishment and fear, that they may learn

To obey their emperor's lightest nod.…

                                                                Here comes

The captain of my guard, whose loyalty

Well proved, and signal virtue, make him fit

To hold command over my garrison.

PREFECT
: I come to tell you, sir, the people's outbreak

Has, with the death of some few desperate men

Who made the most resistance, been put down.

NERO
: And is that all? Is that a soldier's way

Of carrying out his lord's commands? Put down?

Is that to be my only satisfaction?

PREFECT
: The guilty ringleaders have lost their lives.

NERO
: What of the mob that had the hardihood

To attack my house with fire, to lay down laws

For emperors to obey, steal from my bed

My innocent wife, to desecrate her name

So far as their foul hands and voices could –

Are they still wanting their due punishment?

PREFECT
: You cry for punishment of your countrymen?

NERO
: Of such a kind that time shall ne'er forget.

PREFECT
: Your wrath, and not my fears, shall be my law.

NERO
: She that first earned it shall first feel my wrath.

PREFECT
: Whom does your wrath demand? My hand is ready.