I also salute you.
(tête-d'or makes no answer.
The Tribune of the People (coming forward and raising his hand): I salute you, O King.
Tête-d'or: Salute also, voice of the streets, clamor of the markets.
Do your duty and cry! Cry and I will try to understand.
The Man Out of Office (hastily following this example): I salute you, O King!
Do not trust that man nor the others.... I will watch your enemies and keep an eye on all.
Tête-d'or: Thanks, dog of the gardener! Be active and vigilant and I will give you your part.
(All have trodden in the blood of the king. The whole stage is covered with footprints and there are the marks of bloody hands on the walls.
(Silence.
(cassius, who was behind tête-d'or, now steps in front of him and kneels again. tête-d'or slowly lowers his eyes till their glances meet and they stare at each other with a certain wildness in their gaze.
Cassius: O golden hope, most cherished violence, arriving at the end of our dreary day
As the sunlight gains an added sweetness
When it inundates old roofs after centuries of soot!
Suffer this hand to touch you! O effulgent Autumn, guide us!
(He rises.
And now I stand again.
And my cry is Forward! Let every man arise! Bring forth the chariots and the cannon!
And let us go out from this wearisome ravine, that the wind of the open sky and the warmth of the sun may strike upon our faces!
Space is free! The earth is flat like a field of beets in October,
The world shall behold! And it shall be astonished!
And like a perjured judge
Passing sentence against itself, shall fall from its rotten judgment seat,
While our trumpets through the fields shall blare so loudly
That never from that day forth shall the clang of copper and bronze
Be thought sonorous.
Tête-d'or: In the midst of the Earth there is a field
And he who, from spurs to crest
Wreathes himself with the fumiter and bluets that flower there,
—By the plains and the amphitheatre of mountains,
By the seas, by the swollen rivers and by the murmuring forests,
Shall be hailed as King, Father,
Stem of Justice, Throne of Thrift!
—I turn my steps to a region where the drum is never silent, where the baldric is never turned,
To a road that is bordered with fire, a place of brutal acts and terrible cries!
I shall not fear! But I shall fare forth like the famine and the cyclone!
Hate and Anger
And Vengeance and the frenzied Image of Pain
March before me, and Hope unveils its solemn face!
Come! the time commands and the road will no longer be denied.
I shall march! I shall fight! I shall crush the barrier beneath my conquering feet! I shall break the vain resistance like rotten wood!
(Enter the princess veiled in black.
What woman's shape is this that stands before me! Unveil!
The Princess: O Father, are you here?
Tête-d'or: He is here.
The Princess: Victorious Tête-d'or! My father bade me come to give you greeting!
And if you ask why I wear this mourning veil that prevents my seeing you
It is to honor you, like my native land
Who has come before you and from whose darkened face you have removed the sombre veil.
And I have learned that Cébès is no more.
I salute you, victorious head!
(She removes her veil and looks at him.
(tête-d'or stands, sword in hand and crowned, his feet on the wide robe of the king. To his right, the brother of the king and the Magistrates of the republic. To his left the Representatives of the people. The bystanders make a hedge on both sides leaving a free passage to the door.
(The princess slowly stretches out her arms and kneeling she kisses the ground, where she remains prostrate.
(Two women lift her up clasping her under the arms and she stands before tête-d'or, her head bowed on her breast.
(Silence.
The Schoolmaster (weeping, to tête-d'or): Behold her, O King, and have pity!
I was her tutor and when she was but a child I held her on my knee,
When in her picture book I showed her the images of the creation.
And on her fête-day, according to ancient custom,
When the women came to cure their baby's spasms,
At mid-day when in her cymar of flowered silk she appeared on the topmost step
In the glory of youth and beauty, like a sunflower upturning its beaming face to the sun,
All the people were like a man on whom there suddenly falls
The healing shadow of whispering branches,
So much upon the air, like a sweet and gracious breeze,
Poured forth the fragrant smell of the ancient, royal vine!
And now, poor child, you are like a shattered blossom, like the sunflower stripped from its stalk, turning its drooping face to the earth!
Behold her, O King! Like a purchased ewe she is here beneath your hand.
(Silence.
The Princess: Will you not kill me also?
(She slowly raises her head and looks about her.
I knew you all by your names, I have grown up among you and now you have betrayed me.
Not a friend is left me and everyone turns towards me a hostile face.
O you in whom my father trusted as in a son, putting his arm about your neck! And you! And you! O teacher that taught me from childhood, you also are ranked with my foes!
And you, my father's brother, stand at his murderer's right hand!
The Brother of the King: Young girl, I do not know you! But I am he who stands at the right hand of the Prince.
The Princess: O Father! O Father!
O King of this country, august as the ascension of the hand when it begins the sign of the cross,
It is thus that they have wearied of allegiance and thrown you to the earth,
They have thrown you aside like a worthless thing, like a bone that one tosses to dogs!
And they bear your blood on the soles of their shoes, and upon the sides of their den
Are stains like those on the walls of a slaughter-house!
(She tears her mantle in two.
Treason! Treason!
Sun, behold this impious act!
Listen to me, O you who are gathered here about this pool of blood. The thought of your pernicious hearts is laid bare!
You have had enough of me,
You do not want me to be your queen! And I renounce you also and will trouble you no more.
I will go out from the midst of you, O iniquitous and fraudulent hearts!
I strip you from me like these vain adornments!
(She tears off her ornaments and throws them down.
All! All! Take all again! O vanities, I divest myself of you, and I shall go forth naked from this place!
And now permit me to depart if I am free to go,
For I cannot endure the glance of yonder basilisk!
Tête-d'or: Do you think to astonish me, young girl, do you think that I am afraid of you?
Behold this hand, behold me, young girl, it is I who killed your father!
I offered him as a fitting sacrifice
And his blood spurted upon me, and he tumbled at my feet, writhing in the agony of death.
For I saved this land with my sword, and turning upon its incapable master,
I put him to death as was just, and the punishment meted out did not exceed the crime.
The Princess: Father! Father!
Tête-d'or: Cry! Call him!
"Father! Father!" See, doubtless he hears. Call louder!
What is a man that is dead? And who exists beyond the grave to still be mindful of us?
And you, where were you before you were born, work of the womb?
So, having lived, we return to the same nameless nothingness
A human soul inflated with love and malediction!
That is why I shall do my part here and shall rise like a lofty tree.
The Princess: The blood of my father is on you. It has fallen upon you like rain,
And your own shall flow like a spring.
Tête-d'or: Joyfully, joyfully, I accept the omen! So be it! So be it! I long to see that day!
Let it flow, let it submerge the world!
Let the vein of my heart be pierced, let my blood leap forth like a lion, let it gush like a subterranean sea beneath the iron of the drill.
—And now,
And now, depart! There is no place for you here.
The Princess: Let me carry my father with me.
Tête-d'or: Take him! Carry away the fallen.
The Princess (kneeling before the body): Sire!
O sacred dead, let me touch you and be not angry thereat, for these are the hands of your daughter.
And as you carried me here and there in your arms when I was already grown,
Even so I shall bear you away, O sole remaining possession, O my dead and fallen race.
(With difficulty she puts the body on her shoulders and goes out, carrying it thus on her back.
Tête-d'or: Though every heart should glut itself with anguish it shall not shake me for mine is full to the brim!
I killed him scarcely seeing him, like a partridge shot in a dream,
Or as the hurrying traveller pulls up an importunate fern.
—I have said what I had to say and soon
I shall announce to you what we shall undertake.
My time is at hand.
Like the arch of the rainbow my glory shall rise above the world,
Announcing to those who see it the birth of a new day!
I breathe you again! I worship you, sweet perfume of victory!
Rose, give me your scent! Sun, cover your face in your bed of celestial down!
And bury this child.
For it is not fitting that I should soil by commerce with the dead the Majesty of Empire.
This dead child! The dawn of my future glory!
(He goes out with a convulsive sob.
(Pause.
(Enter the group of Mourners who take their places around the body of cébès.
(Drum-beats. They raise the body on their shoulders and sombrely go out.
(Increasing murmur outside. Confused noise of bells and voices. Discharge of cannon at regular intervals. All go out except cassius. Military music is heard approaching amid a tremendous hubbub. All at once it breaks of and loud cries are heard, which draw nearer, and the noise of an armed crowd running.
(They enter the palace. Frightful clamor. The soldiers, some of them carrying their standards, crowd into the hall. Others enter through the windows. Rattle of sabres on the stairs. The discharge of firearms. Scene of confusion through which can be heard only the cry, "Tête-d'or!"
Cassius (to an officer): What is the matter?
The Officer: They say that he has been assassinated.
(cassius mounts upon the throne and draws his sword.
(He vainly tries many times to make himself heard. At last there is a kind of silence.
Cassius (shouting at the top of his voice): He is not dead, but has made himself our King!
Clamor: Tête-d'or!
(The soldiers form in ranks, around the flags, and march about the hall.
(Discharge of artillery in the court. The hall fills with smoke through which largely enters the light of the sun.
Act III
The Caucasus. A natural terrace in a lofty place, opening toward the North and the East and surrounded by colossal trees. A formidable vertical trench is open towards the West, cutting through the mountain like a street.
Night. All the upper part of the scene is occupied by the constellation of the Great Bear, distinguishable through the mist. From below at a great depth the rumble of wheels and the jingling of harness, suggesting the passing of troops.
The princess, clothed in leaves and the skins of animals, is stretched on the ground.
The Princess: I am cold! I am hungry!
Will this dreadful night never end? And yet already I see the stars of morning, and Mars, ruddy and golden, gleams above my head.
O constellations bending over man, O shining city in the skies of night, take pity on me!
(Silence. Rustling in the trees.
I listen! What do you whisper, trees that know everything?
You are arguing endlessly, like men that are fettered by the leg.
And I, I lie on the earth at your feet in this abyss of the earth!
I had withdrawn to the desert places, to this extremity
Of the world, protecting my body with leaves and the skins of beasts,
Fleeing from men, like an animal, for fear they should catch me and kill me.
But now the mountain is full of unaccountable noises and I do not know whither to go.
And I am so weak that I cannot stir.
Alas! Why should I wish for the sun when he will reveal me to all?
And here like a ewe with a broken leg I lie at the mercy of anyone that passes.
(A long pause. Daybreak.
The Princess: I am cold! I am hungry!
(Pause. The sun rises.
(Hoof-beats without. Enter on horseback cassius bearing the Sword. He rides to an eminence from which he can observe the whole country.
(Enter on horseback tête-d'or surrounded by his staff.
The Chief of Staff: What do you see, Cassius?
Cassius: Nothing. The mist rises.
First Captain: What is that on the ground there?
Second Captain: The skull of a man!
Third Captain: The skeleton of a cow!
Fourth Captain: And look! A whole heap of them! Bones of men and beasts!
Tête-d'or: What do they call this place?
The Chief of Staff: It is called "The Door," for the ultimate door is here.
This is the threshold that opens on the everlasting North and the regions of the sunrise.
Here is the rampart; the slanting joint through which Europe is bound to the Earth of the Earth.
And here it is that they fettered the ancient Thief of Fire
When the Eagle, falling like a thunderbolt,
Fastened upon him and tore the liver from his body.
—What do you see, Cassius?
Cassius (shouting): Space!
The Chief of Staff: Look North. What do you see?
Cassius: I see the expanse of the Earth!
The Chief of Staff: Turn to the sacred East!
Cassius: The earth is unrolled like a carpet. And the distance is veiled in mist.
(He returns towards them.
(The chief of staff and another Captain dismount and taking tête-d'or's horse by the bridle they lead him to the place where cassius stood.
The Chief of Staff: Look, O King, and take, for all that you see is yours.
And the earth is yours like a field of which the extent has been measured.
Look! Yonder the ocean lies, flat and enclosed, a round mirror. For here
Toiling upwards we have reached the level of the world and here the ascent is over.
"The Door" this place is called, for here in ancient times, the wandering peoples of the Plain, at this high pass,
Halted to sacrifice, as the bones will testify, offering fire to the gods of Space,
Before they crossed the dark defile and began the perilous descent,
Forming nations according to the hollows of the earth.
Now after the lapse of centuries it is we that appear from the other side
Presenting to the descendants of those who remained behind a new sceptre.
See, O King, we have rediscovered Space!
Then advance, O King, and cross the gigantic plain,
That we may ascend the final step and conquer
The enormous altar of Asia.
(Silence.
(tête-d'or without speaking points out the princess lying in the bushes.
A Captain: What is that?
(He touches her with the point of his lance. She groans.
The Captain: It lives. But I do not know whether it is a beast or a woman.
(He dismounts and taking her in his arms, lifts her from the ground.
Another Captain: Strange beings inhabit this mountain. This has the hide of a beast, the hair of a woman.
Tête-d'or: It is a woman, dying of thirst, poor creature! Give her my gourd.
(He hands them his gourd. They put it to her lips. She drinks and indicates by gestures that she can stand alone.
Tête-d'or: Who are you, young girl?
(She shakes her head, indicating by gestures that she does not understand.
A Captain: Doubtless she does not understand any language.
(She opens her mouth, indicating by gestures that she is hungry.
Tête-d'or: She is hungry. (He gives her a bit of black bread.)
Take my bread. Eat, innocent creature!
The Captain: Sire, will you not keep this bread for yourself? For the day will be long and hard.
Tête-d'or: I am not hungry. And see how she is clothed against the chills of the night in this bleak place.
Take my cloak also, young girl.
(He puts his cloak around her shoulders.
Forward!
A Captain: Go before us, Cassius.
—O herald, your armor mirrors the red disk of the sun, and you are all agleam!
(They go out.
(The princess eats the bread.
The Deserter (starting up from the thicket where he had been lying in wait): Give me your bread!
(He throws himself upon her and snatches the bread away from her.
The Princess (crying out): Leave me a little of the bread!
The Deserter: What's this? You speak my language?
Wait! Wait a little!
(He stares at her long and attentively, then he begins to laugh.
A-a-a-h!
(He doffs his hat and awkwardly makes a pretence of bowing, in mockery. Then he stares at her chuckling without saying anything.
A-a-a-h!
Oh, this is good!
How does it happen that you are here?
Don't pretend that you can't understand what I say. See, the red is creeping to your cheeks. Ah! Ah!
Answer!
Do you think I don't know you? Others perhaps might not recognise you, but I, I recognise you!
The Princess: I think you do not know me.
The Deserter: Ha! (He wags his head and winks knowingly.)
You are the daughter of the old King.
The Princess: Since you know it, be ashamed!
The Deserter: Ashamed?
See if I am ashamed! Take that for yourself for your "ashamed"!
(He strikes her with all his strength. She falls to the ground, then, rising, she stands before him, motionless.
The Deserter: None of your fine airs with me!
We are alone in this place, we two! You are my dog, I can kill you if I choose,
One by one I can cut off your limbs with my knife if such should be my humor. Do you hear?
Now it is my turn!
Ah! Ah! So you do not recognise me? I had a place in the palace, in the kitchens! Eh? You didn't trouble your pretty head about the likes of me! It was I who seasoned the dishes to suit your gullet.
And you thought of me no more than if I had been a rat, or a snake in the cranny of a wall.
But I, I knew you well and I hated you, believe me! Oh!
And here you are in my hands and I can do with you as I will.
The Princess: What have I done?
The Deserter: Why was your father, old scamp that he was, made king instead of me?
If I had had education I should have been as good a king.
What is the reason that some have more than others?
Why is it that some have all they want, as much as they wish to drink and eat, and that others have nothing at all?
Perhaps you think I can live on bricks, eh?
I am a married man and I had children dependent on me, yet I had to work in the fields. I was not made for that sort of labor, I have my certificate.
And these rascal landlords leave you nothing at all.
And they took me away to the war! What has their war to do with me?
Does one murder women when they are with child?
Why have they taken me? Why are my children both of them lying dead?
Answer, trull, can one live without eating?
The Princess: You can answer that yourself, you that took the bread that I had.
The Deserter: That bread? What is it, bread? With what is it made, bread?
The Princess: With barley or rye.
The Deserter: You know that, eh? Who is it that grows the barley or the rye?
Who reaps it? Who threshes it? Who grinds it? Who makes it into bread?
If the bread were turned to someone who had a nose and a mouth and it commanded you to do its will
Would you not have to obey?
And the maker of the bread, is he not the bread itself?
Yet he has not even the right to keep it for himself, but here I take it from you again, by force.
—So come here! Here, I say!
The Princess: Since you are my master, I am here. You can kill me if you wish.
The Deserter (taking her by the hand): Come.
The Princess: What do you mean to do with me? Why do you take me beneath this gloomy tree?
The Deserter: There is a hawk that someone has fastened by the wings to the trunk of this pine with two nails. See how its head droops.
The Princess: It is a very barbarous custom.
The Deserter: Presently you will replace that bird.
The Princess: What did you say? You are not thinking of doing what you say?
Ah! Ah!
You will not fasten me to that tree like a bird that one nails by the wings!
The Deserter (pulling out the nails): They do not hold firmly.—They can be used again. That stone will be my hammer.
The Princess: Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
The Deserter: Give me your hands.
The Princess (hiding her hands and smiling with terror): No! No!
The Deserter: You do not wish it? Of what use are they?
The Princess: I tell you this, my friend. These hands that do not know how to work
Could bring a better nourishment than bread,
Although I know how to make bread as well.
And you, what prompts you to devour me?
And those who saw me took no thought of food and, young or old, their hearts burned within them.
Alas, my beauty has abandoned me! If it were otherwise you would not wish to kill me nor would you have humiliated me in such rude fashion, striking me in the face.
What have I done?
Do not kill me! Merely because I cannot work like you
Do I deserve this horrible punishment,
Dying so slowly, my two hands pierced with nails?
Do not do it, lest those that love me
Should not accept the excuse that you did not know who I am and your name should be a thing accursed forever.
For I was the honor of our native land and there is no more beauty there since I am there no longer.
And what will they say if they learn that it was you who killed me, nailing me thus?
The Deserter (sharpening the nails on a stone): What use are all these words?
The Princess: Clod, I am a queen!
The highest dignity
To which humanity can attain was mine, nor can you take it away.
Who am I? Who are you? Look me in the eyes.
Will you dare to raise your hand against me? What common ground can there be between me and you?
The Deserter: You will know it through your hands.
(The princess raises her hands and places them against the trunk of the tree.
The Princess: Very well. Where shall I place them?
The Deserter: Here. Raise your hands.
I am not tall enough. Stay where you are.
(He finds a large stone and mounts on it. Seizing the right arm of the princess he fastens it to the tree with a cord; then spreading out the fingers he manages with much difficulty to drive a nail through the hand.
The Princess (shrieking): Ah! Ah!
Ah! ah!
Ah! ah!
O heavens!
The Deserter: The left hand.
The Princess: Here it is.
(He nails the left hand in the same way, then descends from the stone.
The Deserter: You did not cry that time, eh?
The Princess (spitting in his face):
I despise you, gross brute!
The blood jets from my hands! But in spite of these arms made fast above my head, I remain what I have been.
The Deserter: Take care that I do not kill you before your time!
The Princess: Go!
The Deserter: Won't you bid me good-bye? Won't you clasp me by the hand?
The Princess: I am fastened to this post, but my royal soul
Is unimpaired and therefore
This place has all the honor of a throne.
The Deserter: Now I can eat my bread.
(He slowly eats his bread to the last mouthful, without removing his eyes from her, and, picking up the crumbs, he swallows them.
The Deserter: Fasten the pelt more closely around your shoulders for it exposes the flesh beneath the arm, and it is not fitting you should uncover yourself so before a man.
Ah! Ah! The tears are flowing from your eyes! Now I can die, for I have seen you weep!
Stay where you are. With night the wolves will come
And, rearing up, they will rend you piece-meal and tear your limbs from your body,
And the ravens will pluck out your eyes.
Stay there and die.
(He goes out.
The Princess (shrieking suddenly): Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!
Oh! (She stops as if stifled.)
O hands by which I am fixed as the vine is fastened to the wall!
—O light that fills all space! O sun that makes the day, like a judge considering everything!
See me pinioned thus, and these nails that are buried up to the head in my hands.
It is morning still and I shall remain till noon,
And till evening and till I am dead.
But this is as it should be and I shall not complain.
I shall die erect
As is most fitting for one of a kingly race.
O hands, I had dreamed that some day I should bring you both to my husband
That he might bind you with the bonds of wedlock,
But these nails are more suitable.
My blood jets on high and it falls upon my head and runs down my body!
Ah! Ah!
My arms are heavy as lead!
O God! My feet are free and I can only stamp on the earth.
And if I remain, resting so on both feet,
I pull on the nails and stifle and suffer intolerable pain!
But if I stand on tiptoe, my strength is soon gone.
O God, have pity on me!
(Long silence which is supposed, to last many hours and during which the stage remains empty.
(Enter from the left the standard bearer on horseback with the subalterns and the Escort. The first subaltern mounts upon a rock.
The Standard Bearer: What do you see?
The Subaltern: Nothing. The mountain shuts off the view on this side.
The Second Subaltern: Why is it that the King did not take his standard with him?
The Standard Bearer: I do not know for till to-day I always stood at his side, when, at the crisis of the battle, he mounted on his horse,
Holding the banner on which is shown the black and terrible eagle
That soars towards the sun with the corpse of a man in his talons.
And the sun one does not see, but all the banner is of the color of gold.
But to-day he bade me remain behind at the place that commands the deep defile
And wait till he returned or gave the signal.
The First Subaltern: The standard hangs without movement upon its staff.
The Standard Bearer: And we also remain motionless at this threshold of the world.
By what a path we have come, rising out of the West like a bird!
O young man new to the army,
Assuredly you will see the King of the world reigning, but you have not seen what we have seen!
Terror and bewilderment march before him, and, as if they did not know how to use them,
Armies lay down their arms upon the ground.
He has appeared in the midst of cowards,
He has rushed among the multitudes like a lion attacking a drove of pigs!
And they have arisen against him like the sea, and they have subsided and lapped the dust at his feet.
And now we appear at the door, confronting ancient Asia!
(Gust of wind. Confused clamor in the distance.
The First Subaltern: Do you hear?
The Second Subaltern: At this very moment the battle is being fought.
(Pause.
And what are we going to do now?
The Standard Bearer: First for a long time
We must march across the level plain.
The First Subaltern: And then they say we shall come upon a mountain
So high that it touches heaven, and out of heaven itself
Four rivers, as white as milk, descend to earth.
And passing on we shall behold again
The sea, like a brimming cup.
A land of gold is there and its fragrance alone is so sweet
That it seems as if the soul were drawn from the body as in a dream
And in the exultation of the woman who conceives.
The monkeys hide in flowering trees and the sand has the scent of olives
And the submarine volcanoes appear like sunken lotus flowers and like fountains of gushing wine!
The Standard Bearer: All's one!
My will is to do the will of the King and to take my stand at his side
Holding the Standard, and such is my portion of the earth.
Assuredly it is just that we should adore like a god one who commands with wisdom.
His heart is profound and he has been given the knowledge of how to rule.
Thus his power increases, image of boldness divine and of justice that cannot be moved,
Like a tree above a well where men and herds come to drink.
And his spirit is like a marvellous fig tree
Together disclosing the flowers and the fruit.
The First Subaltern: As for the army that he has brought to this place—
The Standard Bearer: Never has such an army been seen! And one would think it was led by Love himself.
All see it from afar like a golden flower in the grass.
And, dearer than the face of his wife, each one of these gross men
Bears graven on his heart the holy image of the King.
And there is no question of officers and soldiers, but each one
Takes his part like a musician and they form a single body,
And death has lost its meaning.
(Pause. Vague clamor in the distance. All keep their eyes fixed on the Standard.
The First Subaltern: He has left behind the ancient flag.
The Standard Bearer: The Standard of the Empire is here, but they march under various ensigns.
Many bear the image of the Sun
Who embraces the Heaven and the Earth, and arms go out from his radiance.
Fishermen in a bark are throwing their net about him, spurred foresters are mounting towards him through the spreading oaks.
And those who have come from the place where the earth, comes to an end
Hoist ocean weeds or the lead of the sounding-line, and floating above them one sees
The Sword-fish with scarlet fins, or the god of the Sea, with eyes of horn, disgorging his tongue like a stone,
Or the salutary sign of the cross with equal branches:
And such are the signs of those who live on the brink of the deep abyss.
Other flags are green like a field, and grass is fastened there and the hair of animals and bones and sacks of earth.
The image of the wheat arises from the furrow amidst a flight of pigeons with outspread wings; and words come out of the mouth,
And the vine like a woman is bound upon the wine-press;
And something also recalls the Sun
When in September, after the harvest is gathered,
Like a pontiff who prostrates himself, he piously kisses the naked earth.
Others still! And they represent nothing defined, but are like a field of flowering buckwheat,
Or the shimmering azure, full of the leaves of peartrees, when seen through the fringe of drooping lashes,
Or an irruption of bees, or the seducing sea!
And others, stiff with embroidery, embody curious legends,
A reaper plies his scythe; a naked man
Grasping a whip in both hands is fighting a four-winged eagle of silver.
And others portray strange dreams; the disk of the moon,
Dragons, panthers that eat the gods,
Or roses, and an embroidered briar.
But I could not tell you all the signs though I were to speak forever.
The Second Subaltern: There is one that you did not mention.
(A great square of silk is hoisted above one of the mountains to the East.
The First Subaltern: Eh?
The Standard Bearer: I do not know what it is! I do not know what this means!
(A trumpet is heard sounding clearly as if it announced something.
The First Subaltern (shouting): Listen!
The Standard Bearer: I hear and I do not understand!
But I am struck with horror and my soul putrefies within me.
The First Subaltern: How that ominous flag flaps in the wind.
(Pause.
Voice (calling from below): Ho!
(Echo.
The Second Subaltern (bending over the precipice): There is someone below who signals that he wishes to come up.
The Standard Bearer: Make fast the tackle.
Lower away the cord.
(They do as he says. The cord runs out. Then the soldiers pull it up and after a time an armed man appears hanging from the rope. He comes to the ground.
The Standard Bearer: Who are you, O man that rises from the depths?
The Messenger: Prostrate yourselves before me, for on my tongue sits death!
I will tell you what I saw, and why I fled and could not stay where I was, and called to you to draw me up to this place and not to leave me below.
The Standard Bearer: Say no more!
The Messenger: I will announce the accursed thing
That you may fall to the earth like men deprived of life,
For the King of men is dead.
All (crying aloud): Ho! ho!
The Messenger: At least I will tell what I know, for our detail was on guard at the crest of the mountain yonder,
And we saw our army advance in good order across the plain, and the men were like tiny specks.
And at noon they stopped to eat, and then resumed their march, and always we followed them.
The Standard Bearer: Well? Well?
The Messenger: Then a smoke arose from the earth and a thick dust blown by a violent wind, blotting out the army,
And for long it hung above them so that we saw them no more.
But when it was dissipated we perceived
An infinite army advancing to oppose them.
The Standard Bearer: It is impossible! From whence would it come?
The Messenger: I do not know. Perhaps the wind brought them like lice.
But still we looked and, listen well to this,
We saw our army fleeing.
The Standard Bearer: What tale is this?
Surely the dust was in your eyes.
The Messenger: I say that they fled! And not one of them remained
But we saw them run as fast as they were able.
And one man only remained, alone in the midst of the plain and we recognised who it was
And then it was that I also
Fled, wishing to see no more.
(Profound silence. Pause.
The First Subaltern (bending over the precipice): I see a crowd of men approaching at a gallop.
Many Voices (calling from below): Ho!
(Echo.
(They let down the rope after having fastened a large plank to it by means of chains.
(The soldiers hoist the tackle. And soon over the brink of the precipice, on the plank where lies the body of tête-d'or, emerges the group of Captains, so crowded that some dangle their legs in the void, and others are clinging to the chains.
(The group rises almost to the height of the sun, which it obscures, then the tackle turns and the plank slowly descends to the earth. They alight.
A Captain (shouting and indicating the Standard with a gesture): Rend the silk from the ensign and tear the banner in two!
And take the staff and break it over your knee!
For now the eagle returns from a dolorous flight
Bearing the corpse of a man in its talons.
See what we bring, as we rise to this bleak and lofty place,
That here we may hold the rites of burial, on this portal of the world, at this place whence all the earth is visible.
Thus about this dead body we re-assemble like birds.
Begone from us, O sun!
Second: O Tête-d'or! O master! O King! O King!
We have soared to this place, all your eaglets, bearing you back with us.
O dead body!
Let the woman weep over her first-born son! The man shall cry, mourning the death of his King, and tears shall appear on his face,
And he shall not be comforted.
Third: Begone from us, O sun! Leave us alone and insult us no longer.
Now the earth turns its face towards night, and you, who stood in your place like a mountain, disappear! You see this, Father!
Look, we reveal him to you, that you may put your mouth on our misery!
Now leave us alone that we may mourn this prey that we hold between our hands.
O King! O King!
Like the Angel that bears the seal of life you rose towards the Unchanging!
And now we bring you back with us, having lifted you from the ground.
Gaze upon this! Behold it, mountains, and you O forests, that sprang from the fraternal tree!
Let a shudder run through the roots of all that grows because the King of men is dead!
O malediction on man! O death! O condemnation!
O prisoning place! O horror of the place in which we are!
O King! O King!
You are dead and it is death we are holding in our hands!
The Standard Bearer: Stop! Put an end to this fury!—You force me to speak.
Grief, arises within me like the longing to vomit felt by a woman with child,
And the tears that I would shed
Freeze, as when Christmas time prevents the winter from weeping!
—Here! Lay him here, with funereal pomp expose the royal body
On this square rock employed in ancient rites,
That the form of the bleeding man may there appear once more
In the eyes of the heavens and the earth!
(They raise the body.
So your army was defeated?
The Captain: Know that we were victorious. All is ended.
(The body is laid upon the rock.
The Standard Bearer: Behold it! See!
Head! Hands! O body defiled and stained! Is it thus he is stretched supine!
He lies
Bleeding, eyes closed, teeth showing,
His cheeks all crusted with sand!
Fetch water! Wash him! Let one of you become his serving-maid!
Here we are one beside the other
Like heirs in the empty house of a dead man.
(They remove his helmet and loosen his hair.
Cassius (howling): O hair!
O master! Master! Who will give Cassius another pang to satisfy his passion!
(He tears his face.
Oh! that my nails would fill themselves with foulness!
That my limbs, that this frame
Would grow old and like the charred log cover itself with scales of ash!
That this snout
Would grow the tusks of a boar and dig the earth like a ploughshare!
Our leader is dead. O beasts, my brothers, hail!
The Standard Bearer (to one of these who is caring for tête-d'or): You hold his hair on your arm and you bury there the comb.
And also the comb buries itself in my soul and I see this as though it were in a dream.
O soldiers, what has happened?
The Centurion: What do you wish to know?
Is not this enough? What more do you wish to learn?
Cursed be this country into which we have come!
Cassius: It is I who will speak and tell you everything.
And as it was I who announced victory so now shall I proclaim death!
Certainly death was our guide
When counter to the course of the sun we advanced across the infinite plain
And, looking back, beheld the mountains behind us.
At noon we sat and ate, then we took up our march again.
But know that the heat was intolerable
And under the weight of their packs and arms the soldiers died like flies,
For the sun consumed us and we could find no shelter.
And at two o'clock the wind arose, blowing the sand,
And we remained there swallowed up like men engulfed in the earth,
And when we emerged from the dust,
We saw the red sun burning above our heads like a Moloch,
And before us there lay an army.
The Standard Bearer: But what army?
Cassius: Be still and do not uselessly interrupt me.
Assuredly antique humanity had come before its sister.
And as of old on the day of the separation we carefully considered one another.
Their faces are nearer than ours to the color of the earth,
And we saw in their hands the primitive arms and tools, and in their midst were set the kings and the chieftains, and above their heads the ancient idols swayed,
The squatting, three-faced monsters, each brandishing six pairs of arms,
And camels also were there and ranks of elephants, and tigers in wooden cages,
And we heard the hollow thunder of gongs.
Thus we gazed at each other,
For our forebears descended on Europe, who like a man with outstretched arms lies upon the bosom of the waters,
And theirs remained to multiply in the place in which they were.
And we had lived our life in war and in tears, beset
By the spirits of turbulence and wrath that rise from the restless and uninhabited sea.
And over them with hangman's hands had been securely established the domination
Of Brahma, Prince of Error, and Buddha, the demon of Peace,
And above us burned the inflamed face of the sun.
Voice: O!
Cassius: There we were,
Hair full of sand, wading in sand up to the fleshy part of the leg,
And seeing that multitude confronting us,
Fear entered into us and a distaste for fighting, and for going forward forever on the face of that desert land.
And we saw that we were few and dispersed and our cannon were sunk in the sand.
And the King exhorted us, stretching out his arms,
And he pushed his horse here and there, but we did not listen to him,
And we did not turn our eyes away from the foe,
And from their ranks.
As the nomads of the caravans are wont to cry to each other with an enormous perforated shell, we heard the blowing of a conch or horn!
O but the sound was sad and harsh!
Voice: O!
Cassius: Thus did this primal people speak to us.
And nothing could longer restrain us, but the army like one man irresistibly recoiled.
And, O shame, they began to flee!
Voice: O! O!
Cassius: This the King saw and he did not try to prevent it, and he alone remained.
Then he threw his sword to the ground, and dismounting from his horse he unbridled it.
And alone he advanced against the opposing army, holding the bit to heaven,
Thus we saw him advance
Like a wrathful pigeon that leaps towards the female dragging its wings.
Voice: O!
Cassius: This we saw! And they threw themselves upon him tooth and nail like savage rats.
And there were some who took him by the arms and others by the legs and others caught at his head from behind,
And we, unhappy wretches, we saw him towering out of the midst of them, engulfed as far as the girdle.
And he struggled like a horse that dogs have gripped by the ears
Crying out in a dreadful voice, and with his loins dragging his living prison this way and that!
And there was one who, holding his sword in both hands,
Sought for the joint of the armor, like a cook who opens a crab with the point of a knife.
Voice: O!
Cassius: O!
What a clear and poignant cry we heard him give, like mighty Pallas feeling the grasp of the Satyr,
Such that the memory of it made
Our bones vibrate like instruments!
And we recognised the voice as the woman knows the cry of her mate,
And we also cried aloud and in frantic haste rushed forward.
Three times we charged that multitude, and in the end, yielding beneath our despair, they scattered like a flock.
And as the affrighted Hindu
Turns in his course
To watch the wounded elephant, mad with pain,
Who pursues him like a mountain across the dazzling ricefields, thus they saw our army charging close at their heels.
And we found our king again, lying upon the ground,
Like a sack of gold that robbers had abandoned,
Dead, bereft of breath.
And now we return bearing away this spoil.
Voice: O! Alas! O King, O King!
Cassius: Cry louder! Let the earth be broken in two!
Let the revelation of the sun be quenched!
Let the Tree of Eternity, that like oranges bears the worlds
And like apples and like sugared figs and grapes,
Crash down its roots in air!
For man has terminated here his greatest enterprise. Now all is ended.
And he did not prevail
Against the power that holds things in place.
Cry louder!
Let your tears pour forth in floods! Go to your homes and throw yourselves on the ground!
As for me, O King, I loved you.
You were my life and with wonder I looked upon you, King of men!
And your herald goes before you!
Hark to the voice of the herald! Everything is ended.
All effort has come to its vain conclusion.
—And I, Cassius, having proclaimed these tidings,
I disappear.
(He throws himself over the precipice.
(Pause.
(Someone approaches and bends over the body of tête-d'or.
The Centurion: What is he doing?
A Captain: It is the surgeon.
The Centurion: At what is he looking? The King is dead.
Another: No, for the body is not yet rigid.
Another: What did you say? Have we brought him back with us alive?
(The surgeon signs to them to stop talking.
(Silence.
One of the Bystanders: Well?
The Surgeon: Give me the sponge. Help me. Remove his cuirass.
Gently!
Loosen his clothes at the throat.
(They do as he says.
A Captain: O reddened body! O mutilated body!
Another: The bleeding has stopped.
(The surgeon puts his ear to the chest of tête-d'or.—Silence.
The Centurion (aside): For what does he still search?
First Captain: He is clever. He has the ear of a maker of clocks.
He listens like a mole.
The Surgeon (rising): He lives.
The Centurion: He lives? Will he recover?
The Surgeon: No. (He buries a finger in one of the wounds.)
The King (uttering a cry): Ah!
The Centurion: He is coming to himself.
(Pause. The king regains consciousness and looks about him.
The King: Is there a surgeon here?
The Surgeon: I am a surgeon, Sire.
The King: Shall I die?
(The surgeon, who is washing his hands, nods his head.
The King: Who will stand before me and gnash his teeth in my face, and swear
That I am only a sabre of wood and that, like some ridiculous baby,
I have brought my host to this desert, confounding marches and battles with things in story books.
Cowards!
Cowards,
Cowards! A plague upon me for having trusted you, cowards!
I have been thrown to the ground and the mob has stamped on my body,
And here I lie struck down and brought to nought!
Come, do not be afraid! See, I am weak and defenceless! Throw yourselves upon me like animals!
Beat out my brains with your clubs! Strike! Kick me to death with your boots!
The Surgeon: Take care. You have started the bleeding again.
The King: Let each of these new eyes
Pour forth its sap like tears! And let me become as red as Mars, and let me be resplendent with your shame
Like a mirror!
—But were you conquerors?
The Centurion: We were, Sire.