The Sack of Rome/Act II

by Mercy Otis Warren

ACT II

Scene I

Palace of Valentinian

(Enter Valentinian and Heraclius)

Valentinian

Hast thou seen Maximus?---Is he return'd?

'Tis whisper'd that he's now about the court:

I order'd Ricemar to urge his stay

To try his valour in the feats of war,

Till I found means to sooth Ardelia's grief,

Or reconcil'd her to my ardent love:

Yet I suspect my will is disobey'd.

Heraclius

I, through the Campus Martius, saw him pass,

Sullen and fierce as is the baited bull,

Whetted for blood and roaring for his prey,

When rushing on the victim of his rage.

Valentinian

He surely meditates some great revenge.

He has a bold, assuming, haughty soul---

A daring pride that spurns the least affront---

I fear him more than Ætius

Heraclius

But Ætius is the idol of the army,

And at his beck---the young barbarian princes.

Haughty and brave, he brooks not thy delay;

Impatient for the promise made Gaudentius,

Sighs for a union with the fair Eudocia.

A son so near---a sceptre in his eye,

May empire give to his aspiring father.

Valentinian

Go lead him hither with his favour'd son,

My hand shall rid me from all fear from them:

Once in the palace, and the work is done:

I'll save my daughter for a nobler union.

But find out Maximus---'tis him I dread;

A man thus injur'd never can forgive.

Heraclius

He lov'd Ardelia with the purest flame;

Indeed she was, for innocence and truth,

For elegance, true dignity, and grace,

The fairest sample of that ancient worth

Th' illustrious matrons beasted to the world

When Rome was fam'd for every glorious deed.

But she's no more!

Valentinian

Hah! slave, forbear---

Mean'st thou to try my love, or wake my fears?

Say thou at once---suspense I ne'er could bear.

Heraclius

Despair, resentment, agonizing grief,

This morn have clos'd the period of a life

Too pure and spotless for the Roman world.

Valentinian

Then I'm undone forever---double the guards.

Go find Petronius out---suffer not him,

Nor Ætius, to see another sun:

To make the work complete, bring Ætius hither;

My sword is ready for a traitor's blood,

Nor dare another arm attempt his death.

(Exit Heraclius)

Down coward conscience, nor disturb a prince.

My recent crime haunts all my sleepless nights;

Yet, shall I fill the measure of my guilt

And turn assassin?---Am I so lost, as thus

To stain my hand with the Patrician blood---

Pollute my court---disgrace the Roman name?

No, that can't be---her infamy's complete.

And no new crime is wanting in the list

To stigmatize, and blast her ancient fame.

In this apartment, now my gloomy cell,

Where I have seen Ardelia drown'd in tears,

And almost dying with indignant grief,

All other crimes are light---let Ætius die.

(Enter Edoxia)

But hah!---here comes my torment---

My other conscience---to kill me with a look---

The fair---the excellent---the wrong'd Edoxia;

Her presence freezes all my powers of speech;

I dare not lift my eye to meet her frown---

I'm all confusion---guilt---perdition---death.

(Retiring hastily)

Edoxia

Oh! fly me not, my sovereign---

I only come to warn my much lov'd lord,

A lowering storm may burst upon his head.

Valentinian

I fear no storms but from an injur'd wife;

The sharp invectives of neglected beauty.

Edoxia

My wrongs I here forgive---thy safety now

Is all I have to wish---my soul is all alarm.

Valentinian

What idle terror has assail'd thy brain;

Or what new rupture threatens empire next?

Edoxia

No foreign foe awakes my anxious thought;

The faithful Ætius commands the legions,

And guards the posts from Tyber to the Rhine,

From bold inroads and fierce barbarick foes.

Valentinian

A woman, weaken'd by a sense of wrongs,

With a creative fancy, spreads contagion,

If she names her fears---yet tell the cause,

If any cause thou hast, thus to alarm

And agitate my mind.

Edoxia

Petronius Maximus

Valentinian

What of Petronius?

Edoxia

'Tis him I fear:---As from the Circus,

Late this morn I came, he enter'd---

Rage in his eye---unheeding what he saw;

Lost in deep thought, and wrap'd in dark intrigue,

He onward mov'd, with slow and solemn steps---

A dark, fix'd brow, and gesture of despair---

He walk'd, and stop'd, and trod, and stamp'd the ground,

And gnash'd his teeth, and clench'd his nervous palm,

Then spread it on his breast and press'd it hard,

As if afraid his heart would burst its bounds---

Then sob'd a lowly sigh---alas! Ardelia!

And, as the shadow moves beside the man,

His steps were measur'd by an Alan prince;

But neither heeded all the sports of Rome.

Forgive my lord, my soft officious care

To guard thy peace from each domestick foe.

Valentinian

Thou best of women! how shall I atone

For half the wrongs my faithless heart has done

To beauty blended with superiour worth?

Edoxia

Ill boding dreams and gloomy apparitions---

Fresh bleeding ghosts, and shades of darkest hue,

Haunt all my slumbers---some deep design,

Of terrible import, in Maximus I saw;

Waste not a moment---oh! secure thyself,

And when we meet again, we'll talk of love.

(Exeunt)

Scene II

(Valentinian and Heraclius)

Heraclius

Ætius attends thy will, as does his son---

With them Beotius, prefect of the city.

Valentinian

Let only Ætius enter---tell him

The business is of such import---

No other ear must witness---thou wilt thy self

Take care of both Beotius and Gaudentius

Heraclius

I will my lord---he and his noble friend

May fight Attila in the shades below,

If that fierce warrior still remembers Rome.

Valentinian

No vulgar souls we'll send the gods this day;

Petronius next, and then defy the world.

(Exit Heraclius)

My arm be strong---away with conscious qualms---

His is a life worthy of Cæsar's sword:

'Tis true I but suspect his cover'd treason:

Yet, Ætius must die---as shall Gaudentius.

(Exit)

Scene III

(Eudocia and Placidia)

Eudocia

Oh ! my Placidia,

The good, the generous Ætius is dead,

And murder'd by the hand of Valentinian.

Placidia

Impossible!---'tis but the tale of malice, whisper'd round,

By some vile foe to Valentinian's house.

Eudocia

'Tis done,

And hell itself records the dreadful deed.

Placidia

My father ne'er could stain the imperial throne

By such a crime as this!

What! like the madman of old Philip's race,

Plunge his drawn dagger in the faithful breast

Of such a friend as Ætius?

Eudocia

He has,

And my Gaudentius just escap'd the blow

Heraclius design'd, by speedy flight,

And in his stead Beotius was slain.

Placidia

Where is the virtuous youth?---and where his friends?

Eudocia

He pass'd the guards, Traulista by his side,

And, through the western gate, they, swift as lightning,

Hasted to Liguria---though much he lov'd,

He'll ne'er forgive the murd'rer of his sire;

He has a filial heart and valiant arm,

And nature's instinct wakes a tender strife.

The genuine virtues of his youthful heart,

Cherish'd by reason---ripen'd to sublime,

Nurs'd up by honour, gratitude and worth,

Call loud for vengeance o'er his father's tomb.

Placidia

Alas! the gath'ring storm---what chosen blasts,

Heaven's vengeance next pours down, is with the gods.

Eudocia

The death of Ætius augurs ill to Rome;

His soul, too firm to fear, or Goths, or Huns;

Too great to be corrupted, or deceiv'd,

Sooth'd their rough passions, balanc'd their ambition;

They lov'd, they fear'd, and will avenge his death.

Placidia

When jealousy's at war with wild ambition,

And reason quits the helm amid the storm,

The furious hurricane of passion swells

Till ev'ry sail hurls on to sure perdition.

Eudocia

Ah! my Gaudentius---could Eudocia's blood

Wash off the guilt contracted by her sire,

These veins I'd ope, and warm libations pour

Down at thy feet, to make his daughter

Worthy of thy love---love did I say?---no---

He must forever hate---despise---detest---

And curse the name of Cæsar's blasted race,

And fly the sight of his too wretched daughter.

Placidia

Alas! I fear---I know not what I fear---

Imagination's short of what I dread

From complicated guilt, which stalks abroad.

Oh! Heaven avert the destiny of Rome!

Eudocia

I'm sick of life---of pageantry and pomp---

Of thrones and sceptres stain'd by human blood:

Come let us wander down the sacred walks,

The silent grots, where virtue once reclin'd.

The verdant forests bend their lofty tops

To make a covert for the weary head;

There tranquiliz'd beneath pale Cynthia's shade,

We'll breathe and whisper disappointed love;

And weep our country, family and friends,

'Till bright Aurora streaks the eastern skies

And lights us back among the busy throng.

(Exeunt)

Scene IV

(Valentinian and Heraclius)

Valentinian

The gilded morn in transports hails the day,

And the shrill trumpet sounds to martial sports;

But yet a certain heaviness hangs o'er me,

As though a tempest burst from midnight clouds.

Were I afraid of either gods or men,

I'd swear this day is like the ides of March,

Big with portentous omens:---Calphurnia's dreams,

And my Edoxia's fears, bear such a semblance

That through the night, (even if a cricket moves)

I start---I cry---my evil genius! say,

Dost come with Ætius' or Petronius' sword?

Heraclius

No superstitious dread should ere pervade

The royal bosom of a Roman prince;

Encircled deep by faithful veteran bands

Who wait his fiat, and observe his nod,

To feed his pleasures, or to blast his foes;

To light the capitol, or guard the state,

Or make the empire tremble at his frown.

Valentinian

The noble Ætius, of princely birth,

Possess'd a soul by Roman valour warm'd,

That won the plaudits both of friends and foes;

The legions lov'd---the citizens ador'd,

And all will murmur at his sudden fall:

Yet more I fear Petronius's rage,

Than all the city, senators, or troops.

Heraclius

Thou hast done well to cut a traitor down

Ere he usurp'd and rob'd thee of a throne;

And if plebeian, or patrician tongues,

Should utter menace, or a plaintive word,

Teach them the fate of Rome hangs on thy will.

Valentinian

But where is Maximus?

Though he's in friendship, gen'rous and sincere,

Yet injur'd once, implacably he hates:

'Twou'd beggar language to describe his pride,

His strength of passion when arous'd to rage;

Inexorable vengeance tears his soul

Constant and noble, as a god he loves,

But as a furious fiend, rewards his foes;

Nought but their death can cool his passions down.

Heraclius

Petronius Maximus returns no more

To interrupt the pleasures of the court:

Ardelia dead---the funeral pile burnt down---

Her ashes gather'd in a golden urn;

He in despair has left the imperial city.

Beside the margin of the Tuscan shore,

In a small villa of the Anician name,

He's gone to weep his folly and his fate.

Valentinian

Where are his friends?---his num'rous train of clients?

Where the admiring crowds fed by his hand,

And basking in his wealth?

Heraclius

Just as the world in ev'ry age have done,

Paying their court where better fortune smiles;

'Tis not the sun, when muffled up in clouds

And plunging down the western briny main

Mankind adore.

The eastern monarch just from Thetis' bed,

With rosy blushes on his morning beams,

Majestick rising o'er the burnish'd world,

Beholds his homagers on ev'ry side;

As in the field of Mars amid the sports,

The son of Theodotius, is a god.

Valentinian

Yet anguish tears, and love inflames my breast;

Oh! would oblivion wrap a sable veil

O'er my remorse, and o'er Ardelia's grief,

O'er her bright form, and her untimely death,

I might defy the vengeance of her lord:

Methinks I see her lovely tearful eye

With scornful glances fir'd---till grief and fear,

And consternation numb my torpid frame.

Heraclius

Why should an emperor fear?

Valentinian

Say, where's Gaudentius?

Heraclius

He, swift of foot as an Herulian archer,

Escap'd my sword, and shelters in the camp;

But after him---with thy express command---

A trusty messenger I have dispatch'd:

This night his sire may meet him in the shades.

Valentinian

Where is Traulista---prince of the Ostrogoths,

Dauntless and brave---his first---his chosen friend?

Heraclius

Gone to Liguria with the son of Ætius;

He lov'd him much.

Valentinian

Then let him share his fate.

Heraclius

Leave them to me, and chase thy cares away;

The sports are ready---guarded every post,

And while the victims in the Circus bleed,

Smile that thy foes on the same moment fall.

Valentinian

Hafte to the field of Mars---there I'll forget,

A pang e'er touch'd my heart.

Heraclius

There learn all Rome---

That if they brave the mandates of thy lip,

A sov'reign's arm shall punish as it ought.

(Exeunt)

Scene V

(Gaudentius solus---in disguise---just returned to the city, where he was shewn the murdered body of Ætius)

Was this the dowry of the fair Eudocia,

The mangled body of my much lov'd sire

Presented by her father's guilty hand?

Just gods avenge---the trait'rous deed avenge!

What is the faith---or what the gratitude,

Or what the sacred promise of an emperor!

As cruelty portrays an abject mind,

Servility precedes the fall of states

In this declension of the Roman world,

While tyrants dip the scymitar in blood,

And sport on human misery at large,

Shall I sit down with folded arms and see

A monster gorging on a parent's blood;

Or unaveng'd behold a father die

By Valentinian's base ungrateful hand!

Yet he, alas! is my Eudocia's sire:

But glory, fame, ambition and revenge

Bid me erase this passion from my heart,

And boldly stem the madness of the times,

Recover Rome and reinstate her power,

And bring her back to glory, wealth and fame.

But hah!---Eudocia, pensive and alone;

(Seeing Eudocia at a distance)

Shall I advance, or banish her forever?

(While he hesitates, Eudocia slowly crosses the stage without observing him)

One tear dissolves the firmness of my soul,

Unmans the mind, and melts the warrior down;

Dashes his hope, and weakens his resolve;

'Tis ruin to retire---death to speak.

Chaste as Diana in each graceful move,

While Venus lights the features of her face

And gives her son the torch to fire my soul;

Yet honour, conscience, virtue and the world

Forbid a union with his bloody house;

My father's murderer---the gods forbid!

Yet she's all innocence---and virtue's soul

Shines forth conspicuous in her heavenly form:

I haste from her as from the hand of death.

(Exeunt different ways)