Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (10 page)

CATILINE.
[Flaring up.]
No, by the gods!

AURELIA.
[Comes nearer.]
Oh, speak, beloved! Keep me in doubt no longer —

FURIA.
[In an undertone behind him.]
Flee with your wife — the while your comrades die!

MANLIUS. Tarry no longer; lead us out to battle —

CATILINE. Oh, what a choice! And yet, — here is no choice; —
I must go on, — I dare not stop midway.

CATILINE.
[Calls out.]
Then follow me to battle on the plain!

AURELIA.
[Throws herself in his arms.]
Catiline, — do not leave me, — take me with you!

CATILINE. No, stay, Aurelia!

FURIA.
[As before.]
Take her, Catiline!
Worthy your death will be, as was your life,
When you are vanquished — in a woman’s arms!

CATILINE.
[Thrusts AURELIA aside.]
Away, you who would rob me of my fame!
Death shall o’ertake me in the midst of men.
I have a life to atone, a name to clear —

FURIA. Just so; just so, my gallant Catiline!

CATILINE. All things I will uproot from out my soul
That bind me to my life of empty dreams!
All that is of the past shall henceforth be
As if ‘twere not —

AURELIA. Oh, cast me not away!
By all the love I bear you, Catiline, —
I beg you, I adjure, — let us not part!

CATILINE. My heart is dead, my sight is blind to love.
From life’s great mockery I turn my eyes;
And gaze but on the dim, yet mighty star
Of fame that is to be!

AURELIA. O gods of mercy!

[She leans faint against the tree outside the tent.]

CATILINE.
[To the Warriors.]
And now away!

MANLIUS. The din of arms I hear!

SEVERAL VOICES. They come, they come.

CATILINE. Good! We will heed their warning.
Long was our night of shame; our dawn is near — .
To battle in the crimson sky of morning!
By Roman sword, with Roman fortitude,
The last of Romans perish in their blood!

[They rush out through the forest; a great alarm, rent with battle-cries, is heard from within the camp.]

FURIA. He is gone forever. My great task in life is done.
Cold and rigid we shall find him in the morning sun.

AURELIA.
[Aside.]
In his passion-glutted bosom then should love no longer dwell?
Was it nothing but a dream? His angry words I heard full well.

FURIA. Hark, the weapons clash; already at the brink
of death he stands;
Soon a noiseless shadow he will hasten toward the spirit
lands.

AURELIA.
[Startled.]
Who are you, prophetic voice, that yonder comes to me,
Like the night-owl’s cry of warning from some far-off tree!
Are you from the clammy underworld of spirits come
Hence to lead my Catiline into your gloomy home?

FURIA. Home is ay the journey’s goal, and all his wanderings lay
Through the reeking swamps of life —

AURELIA. But only for a day.
Free and noble was his heart, his spirit strong and true,
Till around it serpent-like a poisoned seedling grew.

FURIA.
So the plane-tree, too, keeps fresh and green its leafy dress,
Till its trunk is smothered in a clinging vine’s caress.

AURELIA.
Now did you betray your source. For time and time again
Echoed from the lips of Catiline this one refrain.
You the serpent are, who poisoned all my joy in life,
Steeled his heart against my kindness through your deadly strife.
From those waking night-dreams well I know your infamy,
Like a threat I see you stand between my love and me.
With my husband at my side I cherished in my breast
Longings for a tranquil life, a home of peace and rest.
Ah, a garden-bed I planted in his weary heart;
As its fairest ornament our love I hedged apart.
Flower and all have you uprooted with malignant hand;
In the dust it lies where thriving it did lately stand.

FURIA. Foolish weakling; you would guide the steps of Catiline?
Do you not perceive his heart was never wholly thine?
Think you that in such a soil your flower can survive?
In the sunny springtime only violets can thrive,
While the henbane grows in strength beneath a clouded grey;
And his soul was long ago a clouded autumn day.
All is lost to you. Soon dies the spark within his breast;
As a victim of revenge he shall go to his rest.

AURELIA.
[With increasing vehemence.]
Thus he shall not perish; no, by all the gods of day!
To his weary heart my tears will somehow force a way.
If I find him pale and gory on the battlefield,
I shall throw my arms about him and his bosom shield,
Breathe upon his speechless lips the love within my soul,
Ease the pain within him and his suffering mind console.
Herald of revenge, your victim from you I shall wrest,
Bind him to the land of sunshine, to a home of rest;
If his eyes be dimmed already, stilled his beating heart,
Linked together arm in arm we shall this life depart.
Grant me, gods of mercy, in return for what I gave,
By the side of him I love, the stillness of the grave.

[She goes.]

FURIA.
[Gazes after her.]
Seek him, deluded soul; — I have no fear;
I hold the victory safe within my hands.

FURIA. The roar of battle grows; its rumble blends
With death-cries and the crash of broken shields.
Is he perchance now dying? Still alive?
Oh, blessed is this hour! The sinking moon
Secludes herself in massive thunderclouds.
One moment more it will be night anew
Ere comes the day; — and with the coming day
All will be over. In the dark he dies,
As in the dark he lived. O blessed hour!

[She listens.]

FURIA. Now sweeps the wind by, like an autumn gust,
And lapses slowly in the far-off distance.
The ponderous armies slowly sweep the plain.
Like angry ocean billows on they roll,
Unyielding, trampling down the fallen dead.
Out yonder I hear whines and moans and sighs, —
The final lullaby, — wherewith they lull
Themselves to rest and all their pallid brothers.
Now speaks the night-owl forth to welcome them
Into the kingdom of the gloomy shadows.

FURIA.
[After a pause.]
How still it is. Now is he mine at last, —
Aye, mine alone, and mine forevermore.
Now we can journey toward the river Lethe —
And far beyond where never dawns the day.
Yet first I’ll seek his bleeding body yonder,
And freely glut my eyes upon those features,
Hated and yet so fair, ere they be marred
By rising sunshine and by watchful vultures.

[She starts to go, but is suddenly startled at something.]

FURIA. What is that gliding o’er the meadow yonder?
Is it the misty vapors of the moor
That form a picture in the morning chill?
Now it draws near. — The shade of Catiline!
His spectre — ! I can see his misty eye,
His broken shield, his sword bereft of blade.
Ah, he is surely dead; one thing alone, —
Remarkable, — his wound I do not see.

[CATILINE comes through the forest, pale and weary, with drooping head and troubled countenance.]

CATILINE.
[To himself.]
“Perish thou shalt by deed thine own,
And yet a stranger’s hand shall fell thee.”
Such was his prophecy. Now am I fallen —
Though struck by no one. Who will solve the riddle?

FURIA. I greet you after battle, Catiline!

CATILINE. Ah, who are you?

FURIA. I am a shadow’s shadow.

CATILINE. You, Furia, — you it is! You welcome me?

FURIA. Welcome at last into our common home!
Now we can go — two shades — to Charon’s bark.
Yet first — accept the wreath of victory.

[She picks some flowers, which she weaves into a wreath during the following.]

CATILINE. What make you there?

FURIA. Your brow I shall adorn.
But wherefore come you hither all alone?
A chieftain’s ghost ten thousand dead should follow.
Then where are all your comrades, Catiline?

CATILINE. They slumber, Furia!

FURIA. Ah, they slumber still?

CATILINE. They slumber still, — and they will slumber long.
They slumber all. Steal softly through the forest,
Peer out across the plain, — disturb them not!
There will you find them in extended ranks.
They fell asleep lulled by the clang of steel;
They fell asleep, — and wakened not, as I did,
When in the distant hills the echoes died.
A shadow now you called me. True, I am
A shadow of myself. But do not think
Their slumber yonder is so undisturbed
And void of dreams. Oh, do not think so!

FURIA. Speak!
What may your comrades dream?

CATILINE. Ah, you shall hear. —
I led the battle with despairing heart,
And sought my death beneath the play of swords.
To right and left I saw my comrades fall;
Statilius first, — then one by one the rest;
My Curius fell trying to shield my breast;
All perished there beneath Rome’s flaming sword, —
The sword that me alone passed by untouched.
Yes, Catiline was spared by the sword of Rome.
Half-stunned I stood there with my broken shield,
Aware of nothing as the waves of battle
Swept o’er me. I recovered first my senses
When all grew still again, and I looked up
And saw the struggle seething — far behind me!
How long I stood there? Only this I know, —
I stood alone among my fallen comrades.
But there was life within those misty eyes;
The corners of their mouths betrayed a smile;
And they addressed their smile and gaze to me,
Who stood alone erect among the dead, —
Who had for ages fought for them and Rome, —
Who stood there lonely and disgraced, untouched
By Roman sword. Then perished Catiline.

FURIA. False have you read your fallen comrades’ dreams;
False have you judged the reason of your fall.
Their smiles and glances were but invitations
To sleep with them —

CATILINE. Yes, if I only could!

FURIA. Have courage, — spectre of a former hero;
Your hour of rest is near. Come, bend your head; —
I shall adorn you with the victor’s crown.

[She offers the wreath to him.]

CATILINE. Bah, — what is that? A poppy-wreath — !

FURIA.
[With wild glee.]
Well, yes;
Are not such poppies pretty? They will glow
Around your forehead like a fringe of blood.

CATILINE. No, cast the wreath away! I hate this crimson.

FURIA.
[Laughs aloud.]
Ah, you prefer the pale and feeble shades?
Good! I shall bring the garland of green rushes
That Sylvia carried in her dripping locks,
The day she came afloat upon the Tiber?

CATILINE. Alas, what visions — !

FURIA. Shall I bring you rather
The thorny brambles from the market-place,
With crimson-spots, the stain of civic blood,
That flowed at your behest, my Catiline?

CATILINE. Enough!

FURIA. Or would you like a crown of leaves
From the old winter oak near mother’s home,
That withered when a young dishonored woman
With piercing cries distraught leaped in the river?

CATILINE. Pour out at once your measures of revenge
Upon my head —

FURIA. I am your very eye, —
Your very memory, your very doom.

CATILINE. But wherefore now?

FURIA. His goal at length attained,
The traveller spent looks back from whence he came.

CATILINE. Have I then reached my goal? Is this the goal?
I am no longer living, — nor yet buried.
Where lies the goal?

FURIA. In sight, — if you but will.

CATILINE. A will I have no longer; my will perished
When all the things I willed once, came to naught.

CATILINE.
[Waves his arms.]
Away, — away from me, ye sallow shades!
What claim you here of me, ye men and women?
I cannot give you — ! Oh, this multitude — !

FURIA. To earth your spirit still is closely bound!
These thousand-threaded nets asunder tear!
Come, let me press this wreath upon your locks, —
‘Tis gifted with a strong and soothing virtue;
It kills the memory, lulls the soul to rest!