# Dramas (Baillie)/The Martyr/Act 1

THE MARTYR.
ACT 1.
SCENE I.—A private Apartment in the house of Sulpicius.
Enter Sulpicius and Orceres by opposite sides.
SULPICIUS.
Aught to encourage or depress my wishes.
How is it, noble friend?
ORCERES.
Cordenius Maro is on public duty;
I have not seen him.—When he knows your offer,
His heart will bound with joy, like eaglet plumed,
Whose outstretch'd pinions, wheeling round and round,
Shape their first circles in the sunny air.
SULPICIUS.
ORCERES.
A face with blushes mantling to the brow,
Eyes with bright tears surcharged, and parted lips
Quiv'ring to utter joy which hath no words,
SULPICIUS.
Is like a wave which sun and shadow cross;
Each thought makes there its momentary mark.
ORCERES.
As tenderness gives way to exultation!
O! it had been a feast to look upon him;
And still shall be.
SULPICIUS.
He loves my little damsel?—She is fair,
But seems to me too simple, gay, and thoughtless,
For noble Maro. Heiress as she is
To all my wealth, had I suspected sooner,
That he had smother'd wishes in his breast
As too presumptuous, or that she in secret
Preferred his silent homage to the praise
Of any other man, I had most frankly
Removed all hindrance to so fair a suit.
For, in these changeling and degenerate days,
I scarcelv know a man of nobler worth.
ORCERES.
He is, to honest right, as simply true
As shepherd child on desert pasture bred, Where falsehood and deceit have never been;
And to maintain them, ardent, skilful, potent,
As the shrewd leader of unruly tribes.
A simple heart and subtle spirit join'd
Make such an union as in Nero's court
May pass for curious and unnatural.
SULPICIUS.
That so untowardly delays our happiness?
ORCERES.
Who, in defiance of imperial power,
To their forbidden faith and rites adhere
With obstinacy most astonishing.
SULPICIUS.
ORCERES.
But be it what it may, or good or ill,
They look on death in its most dreadful form,
As martial heroes on a wreath of triumph.
The fires are kindled in the place of death,
And bells toll dismally. The life of Rome
In one vast clust'ring mass hangs round the spot,
And no one to his neighbour utters word, But in an alter'd voice, with breath restrain'd, Like those who speak at midnight near the dead.
Cordenius heads the band that guards the pile;
So station'd, who could speak to him of pleasure?
My words had come like sounds of evil omen.
SULPICIUS.
She knows not yet the happiness that waits her,
ORCERES.
By playful force?
SULPICIUS.
Who must be woo'd to do the thing he's proud of.
Enter Portia, dragging Syphax after her, speaking as she enters.
PORTIA.
With all thy sly affected bashfulness,
Thou 'rt bold enough to sing in Cesar's court,
With the whole senate present. (To Orceres.)
Prince of Parthia,
I knew not you were here; but yet I guess
The song which this sly creature sings so well,
Will please you also.
ORCERES.
SULPICIUS.
PORTIA.
Which you so oft have tried to recollect;
But link'd with other words, of new device,
That please my fancy well.—Come, sing it, boy!
SULPICIUS.
If thou art really so.—Begin, begin!
But speak thy words distinctly as thou sing'st,
That I may have their meaning perfectly.
SONG.
The storm is gath'ring far and wide,
Yon mortal hero must abide.
Power on earth, and power in air,
Falchion's gleam and lightning's glare;
Arrows hurtling thro' the blast;
Stones from flaming meteor cast;
Floods from burthen'd skies are pouring, Mingled strife of battle roaring;
Nature's rage and Demon's ire,
Belt him round with turmoil dire;
Noble hero! earthly wight!
Brace thee bravely for the fight.
And so, indeed, thou tak'st thy stand,
Shield on arm and glaive in hand;
Breast encased in burnish'd steel, Helm on head, and pike on heel;
And, more than meets the outward eye,
The soul's high temper'd panoply,
Which every limb for action lightens,
The form dilates, the visage brightens:
Thus art thou, lofty, mortal wight!
Full nobly harness'd for the fight.
ORCERES.
These lines portray.
SULPICIUS.
PORTIA.
The very man—a man—I mean to say,
There may be found amongst our Roman youth,
One, who in form and feelings may compare
With him whose lofty virtues these few lines
So well describe.
ORCERES.
PORTIA.
He hath, indeed, well burnish'd and well plumed,
But the poor soul, within, is pluck'd and bare,
Like any homely thing,
ORCERES.
PORTIA.
For if he hath no lack of courage, certes,
He hath much lack of grace. Sertorius Galba!
ORCERES.
Thy cheeks grow scarlet at the very name,
Indignant that I still should err so strangely.
PORTIA.
Nor do I blush, albeit thou think'st I do,
To say, there is not of our Romans one,
Whose martial form a truer image gives
Of firm heroic courage.
SULPICIUS.
He only laughs at thy simplicity.
ORCERES.
Like to the infant urchin, half concealed
Behind his smiling dam's transparent veil.
The song is not a stranger to mine ear,
Methinks I've heard it passing thro' those wilds,
Whose groves and caves, if rumour speak the truth,
Are by the Nazarenes or Christians haunted.
SULPICIUS.
A chaunt of them's to bring on pestilence!
Sing it no more. What sounds are those I hear?
ORCERES.
They are this instant leading past your door
Those wretched Christians to their dreadful doom.
SULPICIUS.
[Exeunt hastily, Sulpicius, Orceres.
PORTIA. (Stopping her ears.)
I'll to my chamber.
PAGE.
Look on them as they pass?
PORTIA.
'Twill frighten thee; it is a horrid sight.
PAGE.
PORTIA.
Thou wilt be frighten'd at it.
PAGE.
I have a longing, strong desire to see it.
PORTIA.
There's all the harden'd cruelty of man
Lodged in that tiny form, child as thou art.
[Exeunt, severally.
SCENE II.
An Open Square, with Buildings.
Enter Cordenius Maro, at the head of his Soldiers, who draw up on either Side; then enters a long Procession of public Functionaries, &c. conducting Martyrs to the Place of Execution, who, as they pass on, sing together in unison: one more noble than the others walking first.
SONG.
A long farewell to sin and sorrow,
 To beam of day and evening shade; High in glory breaks our morrow,  With light that cannot fade.
We leave the hated and the hating,
 Existence sad in toil and strife;
The great, the good, the brave are waiting
 To hail our opening life.
Earth's faded sounds our ears forsaking,
 A moment's silence death shall be;
Then to heaven's jubilee awaking,
 Faith ends in victory.
[Exeunt Martyrs, &c, &c. Cordenius with his Officers and Soldiers still remaining; the Officers on the front, and Cordenius apart from them in a thoughtful posture.
FIRST OFFICER.
Of that deluded band.
SECOND OFFICER.
In dens and deserts, courting, with enchantments.
The intercourse of demons?
THIRD OFFICER.
Cruel and wild. To crucify a babe,
And, while it yet hangs shrieking on the rood,
Fall down and worship it! device abominable!
FIRST OFFICER.
THIRD OFFICER.
Of the possess'd and mad.
FIRST OFFICER.
SECOND OFFICER.
Alas, that I should see so brave a soldier
Thus, as a malefactor, led to death!
FIRST OFFICER.
And stately step, one should have rather guess'd
He led victorious soldiers to the charge:
And they, indeed, appeared to follow him
With noble confidence.
THIRD OFFICER.
He is a man, who makes a show of valour
To which his deeds have born slight testimony.
Cordenius. (advancing indignantly.)
Ne'er fronted foe, or closed in bloody strife.
[Turning away angrily to the back-ground.
FIRST OFFICER.
Which is not usual with him.
SECOND OFFICER.
Yet they have moved him keenly.—
But see, he gives the signal to proceed;
We must advance, and with our closing ranks
The fatal pile encircle.
[Exeunt in order, whilst a chorus of Martyrs is heard at a distance.
SCENE III.
An Apartment in a Private House.
Enter two Christian Women, by opposite sides.
FIRST WOMAN.
SECOND WOMAN.
Sinking at times to deep and awful silence,
From which again a sudden burst will rise
Like mingled exclamations, as of horror
Or admiration. In these neighbouring streets
I have not met a single citizen,
The town appearing uninhabited.
But wherefore art thou here? Thou should'st have stayed
With the unhappy mother of poor Cælus.
FIRST WOMAN.
Of fear and fearful hope.
SECOND WOMAN.
FIRST WOMAN.
Deliverance is her fear, and death her hope,
A second time she bears a mother's throes
For her young stripling, whose exalted birth
To endless life is at this fearful crisis,
Or earned or lost. May heaven forfend the last!
He is a timid youth, and soft of nature:
God grant him strength to bear that fearful proof!
SECOND WOMAN.
Enter a Christian Father.
FATHER.
In high immortal bliss. Cælus alone—
FIRST WOMAN.
O woe is me for his most wretched mother!
FATHER.
His fortitude, where all were braced and brave,
Shone paramount.
For his soft downy cheek and slender form
Made them conceive they might subdue his firmness:
Therefore he was reserved till noble Varus
And his compeers had in the flames expired.
Then did they court and tempt him with fair promise
Of all that earthly pleasure or ambition
Can offer, to deny his holy faith.
But he, who seem'd before so meek and timid,
Now suddenly embued with holy grace,
Like the transition of some watery cloud
In passing o'er the moon's refulgent disc, Glowed with new life; and from his fervid tongue
Words of most firm indignant constancy
Pour'd eloquently forth; then to the pile
Sprung he as lightly as a dauntless warrior
Scaling the breach of honour; or, alas!
As I have seen him midst his boyish mates,
Vaulting aloft for very love of motion.
FIRST WOMAN.
FATHER.
Left him yet living midst devouring flame;
Therefore I spoke of Cælus doubtfully,
If he as yet belong'd to earth or heaven.
[They cover their faces and remain silent. ​
Enter a Christian Brother.
BROTHER.
In grateful thanks be rais'd! Those ye lament,
Have earthly pangs for heavenly joy exchanged.
The manly Varus and the youthful Cælus,
The lion and the dove, yoke-fellows link'd, Have equal bliss and equal honour gain'd.
FIRST WOMAN.
I'll to his mother with the blessed tidings.
[Exit.
FATHER.
May have like ending, God alone doth know!
O! may like grace support us in our need!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
An open Space in front of a Temple.
Enter Cordenius, as returned from the Execution with his Soldiers, who, upon a signal from him, disperse and leave him alone. He walks a few paces slowly, then stops and continues for a short time in a thoughtful posture.
CORDENIUS.
Surpassing nature. When the soul is roused
To desp'rate sacrifice, 'tis ardent passion,
Or high exalted virtue that excites it.
Can loathsome demonry in dauntless bearing
Outdo the motives of the lofty brave?
It cannot be! There is some power in this
Mocking all thought—incomprehensible.
[Remains for a moment silent and thoughtful, while Sylvius enters behind him unperceived.
Will see unreal things; the cheated ear
List to sweet sounds that are not; even the reason
Maintain conclusions wild and inconsistent.
We hear of this:—the weak may be deluded;
But is the learn'd, th' enlighten'd noble Varus
The victim of delusion?—Can it be?
I'll not believe it.
SYLVIUS (advancing to him).
CORDENIUS (starting).
I have seen thy face before; but where?—who art thou?
SYLVIUS.
Who, with Cordenius Maro, at the siege
Of Fort Volundum*, mounted first the breach;
And kept the clust'ring enemy in check,
Till our encouraged Romans followed us.
CORDENIUS.
Thou'st done hard service since I saw thee last:
Thy countenance is mark'd with graver lines
Than in those greener days: I knew thee not.
Where goest thou now? I'll bear thee company.
SYLVIUS.
The way that I am wending suits not thee,
Though suiting well the noble and the brave.
It were not well, in fiery times like these,
To tempt thy generous mind.
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS (after looking cautiously round to see that nobody is near).
Of that most blessed Martyr gone to rest,
Varus Dobella?
CORDENIUS.
With things mysterious; with those magic powers
That work the mind to darkness and destruction;
With the sad end of the deluded Varus.
SYLVIUS.
With treasured wealth and armies at command,
Ne'er earn'd withal such lofty exaltation
As Varus now enjoys.
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS.
In such a place. If thou would'st really know—
And may such light——
CORDENIUS.
And look so much disturb'd, like one in doubt?
SYLVIUS.
Yet, wherefore hide salvation from a man
Who is so worthy of it?
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS.
CORDENIUS.
I have an earnest, most intense desire.
SYLVIUS.
Which I may not resist.[Bowing his head.
But go not with me now in open day.
At fall of eve I'll meet thee in the suburb,
Close to the pleasure-garden of Sulpicius;
Where in a bushy crevice of the rock
There is an entry to the catacombs,
Known but to few.
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS.
For there thou'lt learn what, to thy ardent mind,
Will make this world but as a thorny pass
To regions of delight; man's natural life,
With all its varied turmoil of ambition,
But as the training of a wayward child
To manly excellence; yea, death itself
But as a painful birth to life unending.
The word eternal has not to thine ears,
As yet, its awful, ample sense conveyed.
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS.
But it is something which can ne'er possess
A mind that is not virtuous.—Let us part;
It is expedient now.—All good be with thee!
CORDENIUS.
SYLVIUS (returning as he is about to go out).
The garden of Sulpitius.
CORDENIUS.
[Exeunt.