House of Rimmon, The - Act 1
ACT I
Scene I
K HAMMA :
There's no one here; the garden is asleep.
N UBTA :
The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed, —
Nothing awake except the watchful stars!
K HAMMA :
The stars are sentinels discreet and mute:
How many things they know and never tell!
T SARPI :
Unlike the stars, how many things you tell
And do not know! When comes your master home?
N UBTA :
Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word, —
At moonset, not before.
T SARPI :
He haunts the camp
And leaves me much alone; yet I can pass
The time of absence not unhappily,
If I but know the time of his return.
An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror!
These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low, —
So, — that is better, careless maids! Withdraw, —
But bring me word if Naaman appears!
K HAMMA :
Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear
The clatter of his horse along the street,
We'll run this way and lead your dancers down
With song and laughter, — you shall know in time.
T SARPI :
My guest is late; but he will surely come!
The man who burns to drain the cup of love,
The priest whose greed of glory never fails,
Both, both have need of me, and he will come.
And I, — what do I need? Why everything
That helps my beauty to a higher throne;
All that a priest can promise, all a man
Can give, and all a god bestow, I need:
This may a woman win, and this will I.
R EZON :
Tsarpi!
T SARPI :
The mistress of the house of Naaman
Salutes the master of the House of Rimmon.
R EZON :
Rimmon receives you with his star of peace,
For you were once a handmaid of his altar.
And now the keeper of his temple asks
The welcome of the woman for the man.
T SARPI :
No more, — till I have heard what brings you here
By night, within the garden of the one
Who scorns you most and fears you least in all
Damascus.
R EZON :
Trust me, I repay his scorn
With double hatred, — Naaman, the man
Who stands against the nobles and the priests,
This powerful fool, this impious devotee
Of liberty, who loves the people more
Than he reveres the city's ancient god:
This frigid husband who sets you below
His dream of duty to a horde of slaves:
This man I hate, and I will humble him.
T SARPI :
I think I hate him too. He stands apart
From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms,
By something that I cannot understand.
He swears he loves his wife next to his honour!
Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing.
R EZON :
With me you are the first, the absolute!
When you and I have triumphed you shall reign;
And you and I will bring this hero down.
T SARPI :
But how? For he is strong.
R EZON :
By this, the hand
Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon.
T SARPI :
Your plan?
R EZON :
You know the host of Nineveh
Is marching now against us. Envoys come
To bid us yield before a hopeless war.
Our king is weak: the nobles, being rich,
Would purchase peace to make them richer still:
Only the people and the soldiers, led
By Naaman, would fight for liberty.
Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me,
And talked with me in secret. Promises,
Great promises! For every noble house
That urges peace, a noble recompense:
The King, submissive, kept in royal state
And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth
Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest, —
Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise
Upon the city's fall. The common folk
Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them
In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise
Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke,
And days of pomp, and nights of revelry,
Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower,
The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss,
And the divine embraces of the god.
T SARPI :
All, all I wish! What must I do for this?
R EZON :
Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war.
T SARPI :
But if I fail? His will is proof against
The lure of kisses and the wile of tears.
R EZON :
Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed.
Before the King decides, he must consult
The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands
Prepare, — and you shall read the signs prepared
In words of fear to melt the brazen heart
Of Naaman.
T SARPI :
But if it flame instead?
R EZON :
I know a way to quench that flame. The cup,
The parting cup your hand shall give to him!
What if the curse of Rimmon should infect
That sacred wine with poison, secretly
To work within his veins, week after week
Corrupting all the currents of his blood,
Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh? What then?
Would he prevail in war? Would he come back
To glory, or to shame? What think you?
T SARPI :
I? —
I do not think; I only do my part.
But can the gods bless this?
R EZON :
The gods can bless
Whatever they decree; their will makes right;
And this is for the glory of the House
Of Rimmon, — and for thee, my queen, Come, come!
The night grows dark: we'll perfect our alliance.
R UAHMAH :
What have I heard? O God, what shame is this
Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars!
Was it for this that I was brought away
A captive from the hills of Israel
To serve the heathen in a land of lies?
Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife
Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt!
The very greatness of his generous heart
Betrays him to their hands. What can I do!
Nothing, — a slave, — hated and mocked by all
My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life!
I smother in this black, betraying air
Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath
The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God
Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel.
To Israel!
N UBTA :
Look! Here's the Hebrew maid, —
She's homesick; let us comfort her!
K HAMMA :
Yes, dancing is the cure for homesickness.
We'll make her dance.
R UAHMAH :
I pray you, let me go!
I cannot dance, I do not know your measures.
K HAMMA :
Then sing for us, — a song of Israel!
R UAHMAH :
How can I sing the songs of Israel
In this strange country? O my heart would break!
A S ERVANT :
A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her.
N UBTA :
Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed.
R UAHMAH :
Nay, not to this dumb idol, but to Him
Who made Orion and the seven stars!
A LL :
She raves, — she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her!
The fountain! Wash her blasphemy away!
N AAMAN :
Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone,
Ye barking dogs and mewing cats! Out, all!
Poor child, what have they done to thee?
R UAHMAH :
Nothing,
My lord and master! They have harmed me not.
N AAMAN :
Dost call this nothing?
R UAHMAH :
Since my lord is come!
N AAMAN :
I do not know thy face, — who art thou, child?
R UAHMAH :
The handmaid of thy wife.
N AAMAN :
Whence comest thou?
Thy voice is like thy mistress, but thy looks
Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land.
R UAHMAH :
Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid,
The daughter of a prince in Israel,
Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord
Ride through our highlands, when Samaria
Was allied with Damascus to defeat
Our common foe.
N AAMAN :
And thou rememberest this?
R UAHMAH :
As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw
Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside
Our king; and all we joyful little maids
Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way,
For you had driven out the enemy,
Broken; and both our lands were friends and free.
N AAMAN :
Well, they are past, those noble days! The days
When nations would imperil all to keep
Their liberties, are only memories now.
The common cause is lost, — and thou art brought,
The captive of some mercenary raid,
Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war,
To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well?
R UAHMAH :
Master, thou seest.
N AAMAN :
Yes, I see! My child,
Why do they hate thee so?
R UAHMAH :
I do not know,
Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon.
N AAMAN :
Thou needest not. I fear he is a god
Who pities not his people, will not save.
My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou
Shalt hold thy faith, — I care not what it is, —
Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free.
Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal,
None shall molest the maid who carries this.
Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes;
Hast thou no other gift to ask of me?
R UAHMAH :
My lord, I do entreat thee not to go
To-morrow to the council. Seek the King
And speak with him in secret; but avoid
The audience-hall.
N AAMAN :
Why, what is this? They wits
Are wandering. My honour is engaged
To speak for war, to lead in war against
The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus.
R UAHMAH :
Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak, —
I know not how, — but so that all must hear.
With magic of unanswerable words
Persuade thy foes. Yet watch, — beware, —
N AAMAN :
Of what?
R UAHMAH :
I am entangled in my speech, — no light, —
How shall I tell him? He will not believe.
O my dear lord, thine enemies are they
Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware, —
Beware, — of Rimmon!
N AAMAN :
Child, thy words are wild:
Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain.
Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream
Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home
Among the hills again.
R UAHMAH :
Master, good-night.
And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep
As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot,
Amid the music of his waterfalls.
There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above
The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast,
And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe
A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves.
There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun
Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk
Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold
The waking wonder of the wide-spread world.
There life renews itself with every morn
In purest joy of living. May the Lord
Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets
Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along
The open path, beneath the open sky!
Scene II
T IME : The following morning
I ZDUBHAR :
The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like beans in the pottage.
H AZAEL :
Fear is a hot fire.
R AKHAZ :
Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk.
S ABALLIDIN :
Cannot Naaman drive them back?
R AKHAZ :
Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? Naaman is a broken reed whose claws have been cut. Build no hopes on that foundation, for it will run away and leave you all adrift in the conflagration.
S ABALLIDIN :
He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, Hazael?
H AZAEL :
Naaman can do nothing without the command of the King; and the King fears to order the army to march without the approval of the gods. The High Priest is against it. The House of Rimmon is for peace with Asshur.
R AKHAZ :
Yes, and all the nobles are for peace. We are the men whose wisdom lights the rudder that upholds the chariot of state. Would we be rich if we were not wise? Do we not know better than the rabble what medicine will silence this fire that threatens to drown us?
I ZDUBHAR :
But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they will despoil us all.
H AZAEL :
Not us, my lord, only the common people. The envoys have offered favourable terms to the priests, and the nobles, and the King. No palace, no temple, shall be plundered. Only the shops, and the markets, and the houses of the multitude shall be given up to the Bull. He will eat his supper from the pot of lentils, not from our golden plate.
R AKHAZ :
Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall be enriched; our heads shall be crowned with seats of honour in the procession of the Assyrian king. He needs wise counsellors to help him guide the ship of empire onto the solid rock of prosperity. You must be with us, my lords Izdubhar and Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom roar loudly for peace.
I ZDUBHAR :
He talks like a tablet read upside down, — a wild ass braying in the wilderness. Yet there is policy in his words.
S ABALLIDIN :
I know not. Can a kingdom live without a people or an army? If we let the Bull in to sup on the lentils, will he not make his breakfast in our vineyards?
H AZAEL :
Here is Shumakim, the King's fool, with his legs full of last night's wine.
S HUMAKIM :
Wrong, my lords, very wrong! This is not last night's wine, but a draught the King's physician gave me this morning for a cure. It sobers me amazingly! I know you all, my lords: any fool would know you. You, master, are a statesman; and you are a politician; and you are a patriot.
R AKHAZ :
Am I a statesman? I felt something of the kind about me. But what is a statesman?
S HUMAKIM :
A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat man in a mask; one that plays a solemn tune on a sackbut full o' wind.
H AZAEL :
And what is a politician?
S HUMAKIM :
A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked his sackbut. Men trust him for what he is, and he never deceives them, because he always lies.
I ZDUBHAR :
Why do you call me a patriot?
S HUMAKIM :
Because you know what is good for you; you love your country as you love your pelf. You feel for the common people, — as the wolf feels for the sheep.
S ABALLIDIN :
And what am I?
S HUMAKIM :
A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of thee for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and taste this; but not too much, — it will intoxicate thee with sobriety.
B ENHADAD :
The hour of royal audience is come.
I'll hear the envoys. Are my counsellors
At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's house?
B ENHADAD :
Where is my faithful servant Naaman,
The captain of my host?
N AAMAN :
My lord the King,
The bearer of thy sword is here.
B ENHADAD :
Welcome,
My strong right arm that never me failed yet!
I am in doubt, — but stay thou close to me
While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys?
Let them appear and give their message.
W HITE E NVOY :
Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son,
Who rules the world from Nineveh,
Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus!
The conquering Bull has led his army forth;
The south has fallen before him, and the west
His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste;
He pauses at your gate, invincible, —
To offer peace. The princes of your court,
The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King,
If you pay homage to your Overlord,
Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends.
Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke;
Receive it as the sign of proffered peace.
B ENHADAD :
What of the city? Said your king no word
Of our Damascus, and the many folk
That do inhabit her and make her great?
What of the soldiers who have fought for us?
W HITE E NVOY :
Of these my royal master did not speak.
B ENHADAD :
Strange silence! Must we give them up to him?
Is this the price at which he offers us
The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse?
R ED E NVOY :
Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost.
No quarter, no compassion, no escape!
The Bull will gore and trample in his fury
Nobles and priests and king, — none shall be spared!
Before the throne we lay our second gift;
This bloody horn, the symbol of red war.
W HITE E NVOY :
Our message is delivered. We return
Unto our master. He will wait three days
To know your royal choice between his gifts.
Keep which you will and send the other back.
The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring;
But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!
B ENHADAD :
Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure!
We are not now that force which feared no foe:
Our old allies have left us. Can we face the Bull
Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.
What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel?
Give me clear words and reasonable speech.
R AKHAZ :
O King, I am a reasonable man!
And there be some who call me very wise
And prudent; but of this I will not speak,
For I am also modest. Let me plead,
Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace.
This golden yoke may be a bitter draught,
But better far to fold it in our arms,
Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn
Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth,
Our valuable lives? Nobles are few,
Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still;
The precious jewels on the tree of life,
Wherein the common people are but bricks
And clay and rubble. Let the city go,
But save the corner-stones that float the ship!
Have I not spoken well?
Excellent well!
Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning.
H AZAEL :
Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words!
The days of independent states are past:
The tide of empire sweeps across the earth;
Assyria rides it with resistless power
And thunders on to subjugate the world.
Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny;
Submit to her demands, and we shall ride
With her to victory. Therefore accept
The golden yoke, Assyria's gift of peace.
N AAMAN :
There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke!
For every state that barters liberty
To win imperial favour, shall be drained
Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars
To make the empire greater. Here's the choice,
My King, we fight to keep our country free,
Or else we fight forevermore to help
Assyria bind the world as we are bound.
I am a soldier, and I know the hell
Of war! But I will gladly ride through hell
To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride!
Ten thousand chariots wait for your command;
And twenty thousand horsemen strain the leash
Of patience till you let them go; a throng
Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea
Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset!
O master, let me launch your mighty host
Against the Bull, — we'll bring him to his knees!
R EZON :
Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt?
Rimmon is master of the city's fate;
We read his will, by our most ancient-faith,
In omens and in signs of mystery.
Must we not hearken to his high commands?
B ENHADAD :
I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House.
Consult the oracle. But who shall read?
R EZON :
Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served
Within the temple in her maiden years,
Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god,
To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice!
T SARPI :
Black is the blood of the victim,
Rimmon is unfavourable,
Asratu is unfavourable;
They will not war against Asshur,
They will make a league with the God of Nineveh.
Evil is in store for Damascus,
A strong enemy will lay waste the land.
Therefore make peace with the Bull;
Hearken to the voice of Rimmon.
C HANT :
Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh:
I, the god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind,
I, the god of lightning leaping from the storm-cloud,
I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy me!
He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur,
Conquering or conquered, bears my curse upon him.
Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret,
Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison,
Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness;
He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon.
R UAHMAH :
Be not afraid! There is a greater God
Shall cover thee with His almighty wings:
Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust.
B ENHADAD :
Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse.
N AAMAN :
My King, there is no curse as terrible
As that which lights a bosom-fire for him
Who gives away his honour, to prolong
A craven life whose every breath is shame!
If I betray the men who follow me,
The city that has put her trust in me,
What king can shield me from my own deep scorn
What god release me from that self-made hell?
The tender mercies of Assyria
I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers.
Give up Damascus, and her streets will run
Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart,
That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed
Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull,
Will cry against her captain, sitting safe
Among the nobles, in some pleasant place.
I shall be safe, — safe from the threatened wrath
Of unknown gods, but damned forever by
The men I know, — that is the curse I fear.
B ENHADAD :
Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow
Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven?
The unseen rulers are Divine.
N AAMAN :
O King,
I am unlearned in the lore of priests;
Yet well I know that there are hidden powers
About us, working mortal weal and woe
Beyond the force of mortals to control.
And if these powers appear in love and truth,
I think they must be gods, and worship them.
But if their secret will is manifest
In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence,
That punish where no fault is found, and smite
The poor with undeserved calamity,
And pierce the undefended in the dark
With arrows of injustice, and foredoom
The innocent to burn in endless pain,
I will not call this fierce almightiness
Divine. Though I must bear, with every man,
The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep
My soul unterrified, and tread the path
Of truth and honour with a steady heart!
Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle
Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom
Of vengeance if I lead the army out.
" Conquered or conquering! " I grip that chance!
Damascus free, her foes all beaten back,
The people saved from slavery, the King
Upheld in honour on his ancient throne, —
O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay
Whatever gods there be, whatever price
They ask for this one victory. Give me
This gilded sign of shame to carry back;
I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king,
And break it on his teeth.
B ENHADAD :
Then go, my never-beaten captain, go!
And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow
Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake,
Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.
R EZON :
The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge
At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup
Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself
By thrice-performed libation to abide
The fate he has invoked.
N AAMAN :
And so I will.
R UAHMAH :
My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death
Within that cup. It is an offering
To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire,
It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup,
Fulfilled of treachery and hate.
Dear master, noble master, touch it not!
N AAMAN :
Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not,
But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly!
Can harm befall me from the wife who bears
My name? I take the cup of fate from her.
I greet the unknown powers;
I will perform my vow;
I will abide my fate;
I pledge my life to keep Damascus free.
Scene I
K HAMMA :
There's no one here; the garden is asleep.
N UBTA :
The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed, —
Nothing awake except the watchful stars!
K HAMMA :
The stars are sentinels discreet and mute:
How many things they know and never tell!
T SARPI :
Unlike the stars, how many things you tell
And do not know! When comes your master home?
N UBTA :
Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word, —
At moonset, not before.
T SARPI :
He haunts the camp
And leaves me much alone; yet I can pass
The time of absence not unhappily,
If I but know the time of his return.
An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror!
These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low, —
So, — that is better, careless maids! Withdraw, —
But bring me word if Naaman appears!
K HAMMA :
Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear
The clatter of his horse along the street,
We'll run this way and lead your dancers down
With song and laughter, — you shall know in time.
T SARPI :
My guest is late; but he will surely come!
The man who burns to drain the cup of love,
The priest whose greed of glory never fails,
Both, both have need of me, and he will come.
And I, — what do I need? Why everything
That helps my beauty to a higher throne;
All that a priest can promise, all a man
Can give, and all a god bestow, I need:
This may a woman win, and this will I.
R EZON :
Tsarpi!
T SARPI :
The mistress of the house of Naaman
Salutes the master of the House of Rimmon.
R EZON :
Rimmon receives you with his star of peace,
For you were once a handmaid of his altar.
And now the keeper of his temple asks
The welcome of the woman for the man.
T SARPI :
No more, — till I have heard what brings you here
By night, within the garden of the one
Who scorns you most and fears you least in all
Damascus.
R EZON :
Trust me, I repay his scorn
With double hatred, — Naaman, the man
Who stands against the nobles and the priests,
This powerful fool, this impious devotee
Of liberty, who loves the people more
Than he reveres the city's ancient god:
This frigid husband who sets you below
His dream of duty to a horde of slaves:
This man I hate, and I will humble him.
T SARPI :
I think I hate him too. He stands apart
From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms,
By something that I cannot understand.
He swears he loves his wife next to his honour!
Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing.
R EZON :
With me you are the first, the absolute!
When you and I have triumphed you shall reign;
And you and I will bring this hero down.
T SARPI :
But how? For he is strong.
R EZON :
By this, the hand
Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon.
T SARPI :
Your plan?
R EZON :
You know the host of Nineveh
Is marching now against us. Envoys come
To bid us yield before a hopeless war.
Our king is weak: the nobles, being rich,
Would purchase peace to make them richer still:
Only the people and the soldiers, led
By Naaman, would fight for liberty.
Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me,
And talked with me in secret. Promises,
Great promises! For every noble house
That urges peace, a noble recompense:
The King, submissive, kept in royal state
And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth
Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest, —
Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise
Upon the city's fall. The common folk
Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them
In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise
Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke,
And days of pomp, and nights of revelry,
Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower,
The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss,
And the divine embraces of the god.
T SARPI :
All, all I wish! What must I do for this?
R EZON :
Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war.
T SARPI :
But if I fail? His will is proof against
The lure of kisses and the wile of tears.
R EZON :
Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed.
Before the King decides, he must consult
The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands
Prepare, — and you shall read the signs prepared
In words of fear to melt the brazen heart
Of Naaman.
T SARPI :
But if it flame instead?
R EZON :
I know a way to quench that flame. The cup,
The parting cup your hand shall give to him!
What if the curse of Rimmon should infect
That sacred wine with poison, secretly
To work within his veins, week after week
Corrupting all the currents of his blood,
Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh? What then?
Would he prevail in war? Would he come back
To glory, or to shame? What think you?
T SARPI :
I? —
I do not think; I only do my part.
But can the gods bless this?
R EZON :
The gods can bless
Whatever they decree; their will makes right;
And this is for the glory of the House
Of Rimmon, — and for thee, my queen, Come, come!
The night grows dark: we'll perfect our alliance.
R UAHMAH :
What have I heard? O God, what shame is this
Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars!
Was it for this that I was brought away
A captive from the hills of Israel
To serve the heathen in a land of lies?
Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife
Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt!
The very greatness of his generous heart
Betrays him to their hands. What can I do!
Nothing, — a slave, — hated and mocked by all
My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life!
I smother in this black, betraying air
Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath
The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God
Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel.
To Israel!
N UBTA :
Look! Here's the Hebrew maid, —
She's homesick; let us comfort her!
K HAMMA :
Yes, dancing is the cure for homesickness.
We'll make her dance.
R UAHMAH :
I pray you, let me go!
I cannot dance, I do not know your measures.
K HAMMA :
Then sing for us, — a song of Israel!
R UAHMAH :
How can I sing the songs of Israel
In this strange country? O my heart would break!
A S ERVANT :
A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her.
N UBTA :
Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed.
R UAHMAH :
Nay, not to this dumb idol, but to Him
Who made Orion and the seven stars!
A LL :
She raves, — she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her!
The fountain! Wash her blasphemy away!
N AAMAN :
Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone,
Ye barking dogs and mewing cats! Out, all!
Poor child, what have they done to thee?
R UAHMAH :
Nothing,
My lord and master! They have harmed me not.
N AAMAN :
Dost call this nothing?
R UAHMAH :
Since my lord is come!
N AAMAN :
I do not know thy face, — who art thou, child?
R UAHMAH :
The handmaid of thy wife.
N AAMAN :
Whence comest thou?
Thy voice is like thy mistress, but thy looks
Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land.
R UAHMAH :
Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid,
The daughter of a prince in Israel,
Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord
Ride through our highlands, when Samaria
Was allied with Damascus to defeat
Our common foe.
N AAMAN :
And thou rememberest this?
R UAHMAH :
As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw
Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside
Our king; and all we joyful little maids
Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way,
For you had driven out the enemy,
Broken; and both our lands were friends and free.
N AAMAN :
Well, they are past, those noble days! The days
When nations would imperil all to keep
Their liberties, are only memories now.
The common cause is lost, — and thou art brought,
The captive of some mercenary raid,
Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war,
To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well?
R UAHMAH :
Master, thou seest.
N AAMAN :
Yes, I see! My child,
Why do they hate thee so?
R UAHMAH :
I do not know,
Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon.
N AAMAN :
Thou needest not. I fear he is a god
Who pities not his people, will not save.
My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou
Shalt hold thy faith, — I care not what it is, —
Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free.
Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal,
None shall molest the maid who carries this.
Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes;
Hast thou no other gift to ask of me?
R UAHMAH :
My lord, I do entreat thee not to go
To-morrow to the council. Seek the King
And speak with him in secret; but avoid
The audience-hall.
N AAMAN :
Why, what is this? They wits
Are wandering. My honour is engaged
To speak for war, to lead in war against
The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus.
R UAHMAH :
Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak, —
I know not how, — but so that all must hear.
With magic of unanswerable words
Persuade thy foes. Yet watch, — beware, —
N AAMAN :
Of what?
R UAHMAH :
I am entangled in my speech, — no light, —
How shall I tell him? He will not believe.
O my dear lord, thine enemies are they
Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware, —
Beware, — of Rimmon!
N AAMAN :
Child, thy words are wild:
Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain.
Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream
Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home
Among the hills again.
R UAHMAH :
Master, good-night.
And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep
As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot,
Amid the music of his waterfalls.
There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above
The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast,
And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe
A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves.
There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun
Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk
Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold
The waking wonder of the wide-spread world.
There life renews itself with every morn
In purest joy of living. May the Lord
Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets
Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along
The open path, beneath the open sky!
Scene II
T IME : The following morning
I ZDUBHAR :
The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like beans in the pottage.
H AZAEL :
Fear is a hot fire.
R AKHAZ :
Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk.
S ABALLIDIN :
Cannot Naaman drive them back?
R AKHAZ :
Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? Naaman is a broken reed whose claws have been cut. Build no hopes on that foundation, for it will run away and leave you all adrift in the conflagration.
S ABALLIDIN :
He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, Hazael?
H AZAEL :
Naaman can do nothing without the command of the King; and the King fears to order the army to march without the approval of the gods. The High Priest is against it. The House of Rimmon is for peace with Asshur.
R AKHAZ :
Yes, and all the nobles are for peace. We are the men whose wisdom lights the rudder that upholds the chariot of state. Would we be rich if we were not wise? Do we not know better than the rabble what medicine will silence this fire that threatens to drown us?
I ZDUBHAR :
But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they will despoil us all.
H AZAEL :
Not us, my lord, only the common people. The envoys have offered favourable terms to the priests, and the nobles, and the King. No palace, no temple, shall be plundered. Only the shops, and the markets, and the houses of the multitude shall be given up to the Bull. He will eat his supper from the pot of lentils, not from our golden plate.
R AKHAZ :
Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall be enriched; our heads shall be crowned with seats of honour in the procession of the Assyrian king. He needs wise counsellors to help him guide the ship of empire onto the solid rock of prosperity. You must be with us, my lords Izdubhar and Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom roar loudly for peace.
I ZDUBHAR :
He talks like a tablet read upside down, — a wild ass braying in the wilderness. Yet there is policy in his words.
S ABALLIDIN :
I know not. Can a kingdom live without a people or an army? If we let the Bull in to sup on the lentils, will he not make his breakfast in our vineyards?
H AZAEL :
Here is Shumakim, the King's fool, with his legs full of last night's wine.
S HUMAKIM :
Wrong, my lords, very wrong! This is not last night's wine, but a draught the King's physician gave me this morning for a cure. It sobers me amazingly! I know you all, my lords: any fool would know you. You, master, are a statesman; and you are a politician; and you are a patriot.
R AKHAZ :
Am I a statesman? I felt something of the kind about me. But what is a statesman?
S HUMAKIM :
A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat man in a mask; one that plays a solemn tune on a sackbut full o' wind.
H AZAEL :
And what is a politician?
S HUMAKIM :
A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked his sackbut. Men trust him for what he is, and he never deceives them, because he always lies.
I ZDUBHAR :
Why do you call me a patriot?
S HUMAKIM :
Because you know what is good for you; you love your country as you love your pelf. You feel for the common people, — as the wolf feels for the sheep.
S ABALLIDIN :
And what am I?
S HUMAKIM :
A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of thee for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and taste this; but not too much, — it will intoxicate thee with sobriety.
B ENHADAD :
The hour of royal audience is come.
I'll hear the envoys. Are my counsellors
At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's house?
B ENHADAD :
Where is my faithful servant Naaman,
The captain of my host?
N AAMAN :
My lord the King,
The bearer of thy sword is here.
B ENHADAD :
Welcome,
My strong right arm that never me failed yet!
I am in doubt, — but stay thou close to me
While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys?
Let them appear and give their message.
W HITE E NVOY :
Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son,
Who rules the world from Nineveh,
Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus!
The conquering Bull has led his army forth;
The south has fallen before him, and the west
His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste;
He pauses at your gate, invincible, —
To offer peace. The princes of your court,
The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King,
If you pay homage to your Overlord,
Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends.
Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke;
Receive it as the sign of proffered peace.
B ENHADAD :
What of the city? Said your king no word
Of our Damascus, and the many folk
That do inhabit her and make her great?
What of the soldiers who have fought for us?
W HITE E NVOY :
Of these my royal master did not speak.
B ENHADAD :
Strange silence! Must we give them up to him?
Is this the price at which he offers us
The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse?
R ED E NVOY :
Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost.
No quarter, no compassion, no escape!
The Bull will gore and trample in his fury
Nobles and priests and king, — none shall be spared!
Before the throne we lay our second gift;
This bloody horn, the symbol of red war.
W HITE E NVOY :
Our message is delivered. We return
Unto our master. He will wait three days
To know your royal choice between his gifts.
Keep which you will and send the other back.
The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring;
But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!
B ENHADAD :
Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure!
We are not now that force which feared no foe:
Our old allies have left us. Can we face the Bull
Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.
What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel?
Give me clear words and reasonable speech.
R AKHAZ :
O King, I am a reasonable man!
And there be some who call me very wise
And prudent; but of this I will not speak,
For I am also modest. Let me plead,
Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace.
This golden yoke may be a bitter draught,
But better far to fold it in our arms,
Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn
Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth,
Our valuable lives? Nobles are few,
Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still;
The precious jewels on the tree of life,
Wherein the common people are but bricks
And clay and rubble. Let the city go,
But save the corner-stones that float the ship!
Have I not spoken well?
Excellent well!
Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning.
H AZAEL :
Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words!
The days of independent states are past:
The tide of empire sweeps across the earth;
Assyria rides it with resistless power
And thunders on to subjugate the world.
Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny;
Submit to her demands, and we shall ride
With her to victory. Therefore accept
The golden yoke, Assyria's gift of peace.
N AAMAN :
There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke!
For every state that barters liberty
To win imperial favour, shall be drained
Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars
To make the empire greater. Here's the choice,
My King, we fight to keep our country free,
Or else we fight forevermore to help
Assyria bind the world as we are bound.
I am a soldier, and I know the hell
Of war! But I will gladly ride through hell
To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride!
Ten thousand chariots wait for your command;
And twenty thousand horsemen strain the leash
Of patience till you let them go; a throng
Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea
Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset!
O master, let me launch your mighty host
Against the Bull, — we'll bring him to his knees!
R EZON :
Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt?
Rimmon is master of the city's fate;
We read his will, by our most ancient-faith,
In omens and in signs of mystery.
Must we not hearken to his high commands?
B ENHADAD :
I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House.
Consult the oracle. But who shall read?
R EZON :
Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served
Within the temple in her maiden years,
Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god,
To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice!
T SARPI :
Black is the blood of the victim,
Rimmon is unfavourable,
Asratu is unfavourable;
They will not war against Asshur,
They will make a league with the God of Nineveh.
Evil is in store for Damascus,
A strong enemy will lay waste the land.
Therefore make peace with the Bull;
Hearken to the voice of Rimmon.
C HANT :
Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh:
I, the god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind,
I, the god of lightning leaping from the storm-cloud,
I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy me!
He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur,
Conquering or conquered, bears my curse upon him.
Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret,
Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison,
Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness;
He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon.
R UAHMAH :
Be not afraid! There is a greater God
Shall cover thee with His almighty wings:
Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust.
B ENHADAD :
Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse.
N AAMAN :
My King, there is no curse as terrible
As that which lights a bosom-fire for him
Who gives away his honour, to prolong
A craven life whose every breath is shame!
If I betray the men who follow me,
The city that has put her trust in me,
What king can shield me from my own deep scorn
What god release me from that self-made hell?
The tender mercies of Assyria
I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers.
Give up Damascus, and her streets will run
Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart,
That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed
Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull,
Will cry against her captain, sitting safe
Among the nobles, in some pleasant place.
I shall be safe, — safe from the threatened wrath
Of unknown gods, but damned forever by
The men I know, — that is the curse I fear.
B ENHADAD :
Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow
Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven?
The unseen rulers are Divine.
N AAMAN :
O King,
I am unlearned in the lore of priests;
Yet well I know that there are hidden powers
About us, working mortal weal and woe
Beyond the force of mortals to control.
And if these powers appear in love and truth,
I think they must be gods, and worship them.
But if their secret will is manifest
In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence,
That punish where no fault is found, and smite
The poor with undeserved calamity,
And pierce the undefended in the dark
With arrows of injustice, and foredoom
The innocent to burn in endless pain,
I will not call this fierce almightiness
Divine. Though I must bear, with every man,
The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep
My soul unterrified, and tread the path
Of truth and honour with a steady heart!
Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle
Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom
Of vengeance if I lead the army out.
" Conquered or conquering! " I grip that chance!
Damascus free, her foes all beaten back,
The people saved from slavery, the King
Upheld in honour on his ancient throne, —
O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay
Whatever gods there be, whatever price
They ask for this one victory. Give me
This gilded sign of shame to carry back;
I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king,
And break it on his teeth.
B ENHADAD :
Then go, my never-beaten captain, go!
And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow
Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake,
Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.
R EZON :
The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge
At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup
Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself
By thrice-performed libation to abide
The fate he has invoked.
N AAMAN :
And so I will.
R UAHMAH :
My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death
Within that cup. It is an offering
To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire,
It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup,
Fulfilled of treachery and hate.
Dear master, noble master, touch it not!
N AAMAN :
Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not,
But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly!
Can harm befall me from the wife who bears
My name? I take the cup of fate from her.
I greet the unknown powers;
I will perform my vow;
I will abide my fate;
I pledge my life to keep Damascus free.
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