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Lest
any blame be imputed to me, I have decided that here the reader
should be advised that in describing Parry, I have faithfully adhered
to the general outline of events. But for the sake of elegance and
delight I have invented and inserted some episodes, as the Greeks
call them. And indeed in so doing I have followed the precepts of
Aristotle and the example of the best poets, thus writing that I have
added nothing inconsistent with verisimilitude, or the nature of my
story.
I,
who once wrote sportively of the goddesses holding their contest on
the Phrygian mountain, of the apple, Troy’s ashes, and the abducted
Spartan lass, singing under the auspices of Greece’s poet, 
now undertake to sing another song, and to row my skiff over lake
Cocytus. I crave to visit dark Tartarus, hence to bring forth Parry’s
savage scheme against our undeserving queen and the British nation.
Pray, Muse, lead the way through the thornbrakes and the lightless
air, and direct me as I hesitate with fearful step.
The
ruler of the Underworld was cheered to look up from his infernal
waters and see Piety’s forces oppressed, to see every region widely
aboil with foul contrivances and religious war. But he perceived a
single island set in the great sea to remain free of crimes and
slaughter: for here peace and a high virgin’s reign flourished
throughout the land. Thereupon, his mind suffused with bitter envy,
he addressed himself: “Is this one nation to scorn my power? Have the
dire Sisters no concern? Alas, unhappy fate! What has it profited me
that my hand has cast so many of the Latin tyrant’s lightning bolts
against the mistress of the English? What of those blind masses? What
of the Spanish fleet? What of so many captains’ mighty strength in
terrible battle, if she, undaunted, retains lives and powers intact?
And so will it be allowed me to sit here, exhausted and overcome, in
the midst of such an enterprise? Shall mortals lay hands on my altars
with impunity? Shall I, alas, suffer Plutus’ realm to be plundered of
so many trophies by the efforts of a single woman, and the bidding
of Elizabeth Tudor? For
this lady
to be defeated by steel and stratagems? Let it be so—but I
shall be able to prevail thanks to the deceit of a single Englishman,
if the Fates do not forbid, if an imprudent mind does not deceive
me.”
Thus he spoke, calling to himself Deception from Acheron’s deepest
shores. She came at the behest of her summoner, plying her swift
wings through the night. Her hair resembled the neck of a tricksy
Lycian dove, her cheeks were reddened with purple dye and rouge. A
smile played on her rosy mouth and in her shifting eye. In her left
hand she bore a garland, while the other held unyielding steel, which
she concealed with a blood-spattered garment and with dark pelts,
just
as the serpent from Euboea’s fields, notorious for
contriving
plots against humanity and preparing its death, shines with its
star-spangled back. And so Pluto addressed
her, starting with these words: “Come now, child, and convey your
father’s special work. Go, mount Romulus’ citadels and the courts of
the Pope, familiar to you; breathe a savage venom into his heart, so
that in his cunning he may speed the demise of our common enemy, the
murder of the queen of England, the ruination of her people. By your
wiles you are able to bring down invincible kings, coil fathers’
nooses around the necks of sons, and mix lethal potions with wifely
hands. Go, fortunate one, go, you are uniquely destined to avenge my
sufferings.”
She
made no answer, but forged her way, her wings beating the vast air,
by the route where turbid Taenarus breathes its fumes,
where the vents of hateful Dis lie open. And by striving she finally
alit atop the Ausonian palace. As she stepped on the
chamber
threshold and saw the Pope
plunged in great slumber, without touching him she poured herself
into his breast and stole around his heart, bringing the spirit of
deception and deception’s cruel poison. At day’s dawning the old man
recognized this familiar spirit, this Stygian sister, and he rolled
his eyes in all directions, red as they were shot with blood. Straightway he bade a guard standing
at his door go fetch his
trusty brother,
that baleful inhabitant of the Julian city
founded by Caesar on the bank of Lake Larius, which he had named by
the Greek name of Como.
Without delay, as bidden, he presented himself and stood at the ivory
threshold and, according to etiquette, was the first to wish well to
the other. When he had taken his seat, the Holy Father
began
in such wise: “A heavier sleep than usual overcame me as I was
deeply pondering on Europe’s affairs, my kingdom, and my ancient
authority; here I received an inspiration from Heaven, by which I can
regain the powers of my empire, which (alas) have been shattered in
so many regions, and place them once more under the weight of my
dominion, whence men’s bold madness has foully driven them. Only the
blood of a single soul is sought for, the downfall of one
Englishwoman. Nor are you unaware, my dearest fellow (and I recall
how you have often shared my grief over this sorrow) how she alone
among so many sovereigns has dared expel Roman forces, trampling my
honors underfoot. Why recall her unspeakable rites, the land lately
drenched with blood, Saints’ limbs hanging from towers, heads on
quivering spikes? But
she works these things in her own realm—and I hope she may
thus continue working. But (o pray spare me, blessed shades!) why
does she seek alien territory and make attempts against foreign
scepters? Why does she put the French and rebellious Belgium under
her protection, and the Picts,
sworn to our conflagration? Under her auspices a new religion, let
loose from the Stygian darkness, raises its head higher throughout
all the lands, lively as a flame fanned by the East wind.
I
shall not overthrow this woman by kings’ mighty weapons, which she
despises,
or by the mob’s blind rioting tumult. I shall attack her
with a novel deceit. Let me not detain you: would that some
Englishman were to approach us now, a stout-hearted fellow, having a
character of bold audacity, with much charm and eloquence, not well
content with little, nor branded with infamy! Let him burn with blind
ambition and acquisitiveness, so he might dare hurl himself into any
fancy at all, led on by hope for great rewards and fair honor. I
would draw this fellow into my plans, compelled by gold and the
verdant palm of sainthood so that, while feigning to do his duty to
her, he would use his steel to drive her deeper than Tartarus, thus
curing me of my dread and my wrath. And I both hope this will come to
pass and shall eagerly strive to accomplish it, unless the vision I
saw in my dream was deceptive.”
Thus
he spoke, and the other man briefly replied: “This work, requiring
such wiles, this effort, will be done with my help, oh greatest
Father. Set aside your cares, abandon all fears. By my schemes I
shall assuredly accomplish her death, nor does your heaven-sent
dreams deceive you.”
Having
thus spoken he excused himself and besought his own home, pondering
much in his mind: to whom could he charge such great tasks, how to
buck up his courage, with what to arm him? It chanced that present at
Rome was a Welshman going by the Greek name of Ilermo,
sent from the ancient nation of the Britons, but a man who would
scarcely call another by his ancestral name.
His appearance was distinguished, he had a never-ending fund of
things to say, and his manners were compliant,
but in financial adversity his mind was harsh and grasping, inflamed
by the bitter torches of the public infamy he had endured. For once
he had violated his own wife’s daughter,
defiling chaste wedlock and taking her into her mother’s
marriage-bed.
Likewise, this impious man took his steel and ran through a youth of
good blood on the threshold of the nation’s Temple of Vesta.
When
in return for these adventures he was condemned to a disgraceful
death, he was spared at Elisa’s behest (oh what were you doing, too
merciful, too unknowing of Parry?), and
given back to himself and to life. And so Tartarus’ Pluto put this
fellow, who
happened to be tarrying at Rome, in the way of Lake
Como’s child. With pleasant mien and friendly words, Como received
him, albeit hesitant, and as he believed Parry to be suitable for his
plan, he gradually drew him into his private apartments. And soon he
was the first to speak: “Young man, unless I am greatly misled by
your noble appearance and opening remarks, you are possessed of a
mind scarce dissimilar to your body, and are inspired by no ordinary
spirit. Nor do you seem to me able to suffer a woman’s rule or her
unwarlike scepter. Hence I, whom the highest has lately enlarged with
such honor, wishing me to apply myself to his holy affairs, have
conceived in my mind a great crime, a great crime but one that is
good and useful for you, for which reason you ought to fall in with
it with enthusiasm. Allow me to offer you great hope for your future,
for your virtue, and be so good as to agree to my wishes. For you are
familiar with Elisa, and I imagine you are outraged by her, a woman
indomitable in the flood-tide of her madness, in her zeal to use the
sword to put down high Popes, God’s sacraments, the rites of her
forefathers and of ourselves, raising our enemies to the skies.”
But
at this point the Welshman suddenly issued a deep sigh and said,
“Indeed I am
aware and scarce happy; if a friendly spirit were to support me, I
would be my
nation’s sworn avenger and yours. But,
reverend Father, pray explain the ways and means of such great
undertakings. You
have been instructed by your greater experience; not for nothing has
the world’s
most holy master placed the reins of power in your
hands. I for my part have been vexed, turning over such concerns in
my heart. But I have turned them all over in vain, for when I was
making ready to do these things I was gripped by a great
fear— not of punishment or for this life of mine (for my mind is
contemptuous of these things), but fear of Hell’s fire and of that
shore from which one cannot row back. Free me of this fear, I beg, if
you are able.” And the other responded, “Oh most excellent lad, your
dread grips you quite in vain.
Learn this much instead: we are not contemplating the
destruction of queen Elisa. Indeed, this was done to her by Pius,
who
once interdicted her from her ancestral rule and bade her be designated
an enemy
and a handmaid. Moreover, how I deem you worthy
of Heaven and the holy company of the saints for this one scruple!
And if good fortune attends this fine enterprise (as I predict, and
may the powers of Heaven confirm it), what great rewards you will
reap from us! But if a dark fate should take you off (God scatter
this omen to the winds), what a palm we will award you! How your
praise will always be celebrated at our altars! Come now, let me
explain how the path of our enterprise may be rendered safer. You
perceive the need for devices, for the hidden blade—for
devices, but not the usual ones, nor the kind hitherto employed by
peers of the realm and by kings. Those have all proved fruitless,
these times demand novel wiles, uncommon deceptions. And so, if we
are to exercise any prudence, you must take this path and store these
things in your heart:
entrust yourself to no man, invite nobody to share your glory. Let
your mind be your only forum and council chamber.
Consult it about uncertain matters, report your decisions there, and
inscribe them on its silent brass. But this is not enough. A way must
be sought by which you may gently gain her ear, steal your way into
her courtiers’ routine, and insinuate yourself into your mistress’
conversation. You will cling to this duplicitous, or rather this
single program, if you feign hatred for us and pretend to be
most zealous for your fellow citizens and for your mistress.
Wherefore you must shrewdly examine each sign, each issue, and seize
the means by which to be thought loyal to state and sovereign. And
indeed (if such great constancy, if such trust in you grows in their
minds), by gentle occasions for talk you will make trial of the royal
attention, saying you have been tricked by us and confessing a plot
for her murder. And all the while be willing to deceive her. For the
Holy Father forgives such things and indulges them, Heaven’s gates
remaining open.” Thus saying he enmeshed the eager youth in this
compact and received his pledge: he signed the contract for this
crime with livid foam and snake’s blood.
At
this point, you leader of schemes, you wicked citizen of Como, I will
further accuse you (nor do these harsh words daunt me, these words by
which he, having been sent from Spanish territory,
worked harm to my sweet friend in this country — did he most
foolishly say that you, oh youth, dared wound the Fathers’ red caps
with your pen?),
I shall go yet farther and press you: what are you attacking by these
savage means? A realm flourishing with sacred peace? The anointed
head of a ruler? Ah, the cruel crime, that with one blow you strike
at the neck of Peace, Loyalty, sovereign and state?
But the shepherd of your
pious flock,
the holy interpreter of all things, whose brother and heir you feign
to be, did not teach you these things, bequeathing you treachery in
assassination. The head of your race, the founder of your city, was
not that kind of man, not the sort to wish his citizens to be such.
If the songs of the old poets are trustworthy, and
if the shades have any concern for our mortal affairs, I even believe
him to
be sitting in the Elysian grove, in that shadowy vale,
moaning and issuing such complaints as these: “Alas, how a
barbarian’s hand once used steel to overthrow this city’s walls,
erected with ill auspices and sinister omens, plowing them under with
a harsh plow, not without dire curses and much salt! Would that crops
and grass stood in the fields in their stead to this day! Then, most
foul inhabitant, polluted with such ignominy, you would not be so
bold. Now you savagely seek out an innocent woman with your blade.
Thus have I ever visited great Albion? Did I thus reveal her to the
people of Rome? When, roused out of her oceanic waves by wrath, she
made ready to destroy me and my fleet, I dodged the threat and raised
my standards against her woad-smeared youths and her huge war
chariots, struggling greatly with her marshland and water. At that
time I attacked the Britons and overcame by genuine might and the
valor of my allies, compelling them to heed my commandments. And
then, having converted them to peace’s tranquil arts, I imposed a
king on this Troy-born folk,
a king of the race descended from Phrygia, rejoicing in a kindred
blood-line. And now you are attempting to destroy a queen on his
throne, mighty with his scepter, by the worst of crimes. Oh, would
that you would be punished with exile, scourges, and the elm, not
that other new citizen of mine, and
of Como,
who was not the ultimate cause for Emathian war for me.
Why
do I complain? Or who imagines these people to be Romans, sprung from
my home?
My great glory and that of Italy has faded, faded
thanks to the unfriendly Fates.”
Thus
he tearfully spoke and hid himself in a deep pool. But Parry, glad
that the foul pact had been struck (oh you fellow, destined for
unspeakable lamentations!) departed the walls of Rome and flitted
across the Ligurians’ harsh Alps until he established himself in
France’s Paris. He chose this as headquarters for working his
deception,
and here he joined to himself many men of his same religion and
nationality. Being adroit at managing great affairs, he was able
stealthily to insinuate himself into their minds and appear holy, the
sort of man in whom they could safely place all their trust and
reveal their inmost thoughts. But he, shrewd and more slippery than a
gliding snake, revealed everything to the leading men of England and
the magistrates of the realm, the counsels he saw to be aimed at
England’s most vital concerns and at the queen herself. And by
revealing one deception he concealed his own, he made his path
through the rough brambles so that it would go the smoother, he armed
England with a shield designed for her wounding.
And
now, after he had portrayed himself as loving towards his nation and
loyal to his puissant sovereign, and saw no obstacle in his way save
for cowardly cares and a mind’s fear, he prepared his homecoming from
Paris, hoping to become a familiar figure in the midst of this great
scheming and to cast his nets more widely. So his unhappy ship cast
off with its ill-omened sail, and at length deposited the man on his
ancestral shore. And he, catching his foot, fell headlong on the
sand. Some raucous crows are said to have screeched:
“Where
are you headed, you poor, poor man? Here dreadful punishments await
you, and
you have alighted on shore with your left foot.
Here
the powers of heaven will give you the rightful rewards for such a
crime, for
your monstrous undertakings: when on a lowly hurdle you
will be conveyed from a dark cell to your execution; when the dread
hangman throws the noose over your impious neck and makes you mount
the scaffold; when he cuts the rope and stretches you out on the
ground, half-alive; when he takes his knife and lays bare your guts;
when he shows you your beating heart as you are still alive and able
to see, then burns it in his fire; then your lopped-off limbs will
drip with gore.” But he, undeterred by his fall or the foul birds’
prophecy, hastened towards the fatal city which Brutus is said to
have founded by the flowery banks of the river Thames, on grassy
marshland, for refugee settlers come from fire-ravaged Ilium, naming
it Troynovant after his homeland. Its ancient shape remains, though
its original name and population have perished. Once it was small,
but now it is the high home of English sovereigns, world-famous. Now,
Parry, he received you, she who had given you sons, a hearth, and a
wife. But you had not repaid her, being until now an exile, cast by
your own choice on foreign shores.
Indeed, you could have seen your nation accusing you in this wise, in
this wise beseeching you: “How
have I thus deserved of you, traitorous Parry? Are you cruelly planting
your
sword in your nation’s bowels? Your are not, as you
fancy, making an attempt against Elisa with this weapon, or striving
to bring a single body to the grave. She indeed will raise her head
high to the stars, whence she derives her lineage. She will be borne
before the faces of all mankind, triumphant in her accomplishments
and high renown.
From on high she will witness the Furies hounding you, Furies horrid
with their torches and black snakes. But I, who created you, bereft
of such a sweet parent (for she is my parent) shall for my part
suffer this lugubrious fate (but this omen would better be turned
against our foemen), I shall be given over to Latin hounds for the
rending, I who now raise aloft my rosy countenance under the shining
stars, girt with a golden crown of my crops, the world’s darling, the
image of our age that flourishes with gold. Are you making an attempt
on me? I pray you by this breath of life, this existence which you
first enjoyed while on my lap, by the gods, bound to condemn such a
crime and to avenge it by thrusting you beneath Hell’s foundations,
spare me, pray spare me. I did not give birth to you as an oak, grown
from a hard seed, nor did I, England, nourish you with the aid of a
Hircanian tiger. Am
I deceived, or does the overwhelming power of fate seize you against
your will,
and will you unfortunately pay with your blood
ill-avoided penalties? Oh, better abandon this, rascal, rather than
have our land drenched with blood and lose your worthless head in
death.”
I
imagine the nation would have such things to Parry, had she been able
to address him. But what help is there in words, when purblind
treason destroys a man’s senses and his impious mind is burned by the
flames of evildoing, industriously placing him on a path that leads
to monstrous crimes? Thus he insinuated himself at the dinner-tables
of the nobility and the congregations of men, becoming involved in
high matters of state. What the sluggish Saône or the Danube
were thinking, or father Tiber, or the Ebro, tawny with gold,
and the means by which the oceanic Thames might counter the silent
currents of each or shatter their undisguised waves, swirling their
myriad gilded hulls in its riverine current — all this he recounted no
less ably than a Nestor or an Athena.
Or he would bewitch the mind with his quiet pursuits, being present at
the young men’s choruses, the gentle Muses, daily shining golden
throughout all the Court. And often he made his suit to our kindly
Elisa with his conversation, detaining her either with important
warnings or with his sweet address, affirming his devotion by his
humility—no empty pledge, for Parry is supposed to have said
to her such things as these, as in her solitude she was in her
well-ordered garden, plucking the blossoming flowers with a comely
thumb: “Swiftly flee the grass, divine one, alas, flee! A puffed-up
snake lies concealed beneath the flowers.”
Thus
he spoke, and produced a snake in his hand, impressed in wax (a Papal
seal!) on a thin sheet of paper. You
could see its bulging eyes glittering with poison, its mouth gleaming
with a
forked tongue, and its tail raised above its scaly
spine. She laughed at his joke, and inquired of its meaning. And to
her Parry made reply: “Lo, receive these pledges of my faith.” And he
spoke of foul murder, mentioning the name of the purple-clad Father,
and disclosed monstrous pacts. Of a sudden the virgin fell silent,
disturbed of heart. Not otherwise than when a lamb at eventide roams
through her fold,
and at the sight of a wolf trembles in her limbs, albeit she is
protected by fences and the strength of the sheepdogs,
so the virgin, though ringed about by trusty lords, nevertheless grew
afraid as she absorbed the Latin thief’s
plots; with her ears and flashing eyes, she grew afraid and thus she
spoke with her tranquil voice:
“But
You, most kindly Protector of pious sovereigns,
if
I rule by a just government, if I have worshipped You with a pure heart
and always
shall, if our religion, ignorant of falsehood,
maintains churches with the established altars of mankind, if I
suffer unworthy and altogether strange things, and if that man puts
no limit on his wrongdoing, or learns to moderate himself, then be
present, Father, and rescue me from an unspeakable death; rescue me
and shatter the Ausonian bandit. And you, Parry, in exchange for your
gift of life, will never in my sight be paltry, nor will you ever
have cause to complain that Elisa is forgetful of such a favor.”
She
spoke, and he felt his heart melting at her words, a sweet breeze
wafting into his spirit.
Nor did he any longer crave to rend asunder the divine lady’s soft
limbs with his hard steel, for he feared that the sword would slip
from his hand as he made the attempt and paralysis would bind his
terrified limbs. But he still could not complete abandon his
enterprise.
Wherefore,
forgetful of Como’s admonitions and Greekish cunning, he decided that
some ally and partner in murder must aid and abet such a great
scheme. Like a fool who aspires to climb to some cloud-bearing
pinnacle by an eroded path,
while he stays at ground level boldly and self-assuredly presses his
ill-starred endeavor, but after he has scaled the heights and is
clutching at the summit, his mind is overwhelmed by sudden vertigo
and he plunges headlong and, tumbling down the jagged cliffs, spills
out his crimson life’s blood, his body torn asunder, thus Parry, when
the matter was brought to the verge, grew fearful and failed. Out of
his mind, he recoiled from his bold enterprise, yielding his
quartered limbs as well as his life.
The story goes that our Welshman struck a bargain with his
confederate Neville, that
he was to arrange an easy encounter at the undefiled violet-beds along
his streams,
where he had often been accustomed to retire with
the queen. Neville was to plunge his blade stealthily in her virginal
side and leave her to die among the flowers. And Parry was to
expostulate: “Whither are you running off, rascal?” And at the same
time, drawing his sword he was to make an attempt on Neville as he
sought to escape. And perhaps in his wisdom he would have killed the
man and given him as a sacrifice to the blessed shades, so that the
foul deed would remain concealed and he would gain great distinction
as the supposed defender of the royal blood. However it transpired,
after the confused affair took on the aspect of a capital crime, yet
one fearful for its own existence, with many speeches and threats
Parry pressed his friend to hasten the bitter task, for such things
are undermined by delay and spirits grow fainthearted if things drag
on. Or if he was ashamed of great praise and of this enterprise, let
him take a swift ship to safe shores, thus freeing himself from fear
of betrayal and the shadow of death. But Neville, either because
terror or God affected his mind, or because he was moved by a vision
of his nation and his falling mistress, would not allow this business
to continue. Rather, he broke his word and hastened to be the first
to attain the shining goal of turning Queen’s Evidence, leaving Parry
marooned in the deepest of dungeons, by his betrayal dooming him to
be hacked apart in pitiless death. This was the end of his
deceptions, this ending of his life took him off.
But
you, who hold Europe under your widespread dominions
and hope to put an end to these miserable affairs, I appeal to you, a
humble man addressing the great: if under the auspices of that Roman
tyrant Bellona strides through your fields, brandishing her bloody
scourge,
bidding your peaceful citizens snatch up arms and lay waste to your
happy territories; if plots, savage schemes, cups tainted with
poison, and swords are aimed at your persons; if there be any
suffering, any hardship, it emanates from this source (oh the evil!)
and spreads throughout the whole world. Why not form an alliance and,
being of like mind, assault this single city? Just as Telesinus
prowled
the battle-line, a man of the Marsi, great Samnite battle-leader, and
is said
to have boasted thus beneath the very
walls of Rome: “Come now, comrades. Now the appointed day is at hand
on which Rome’s citadels, her wide empire must fall. You must destroy
these lurking-places, these forests belonging to wolves who despoil
the race of Italy of its freedom. Not otherwise will you be permitted
to avoid their incursions. Come, deprive them of their safe refuges.”
In no other
wise, great race of Europe, famous children of battle (for you will not
be cheated
of your high hopes, nor will this be
allowed), you must assault, not the people of Romulus and the capital
of a proud empire, but rather Virtue’s dark pyre and the caverns of
deception, caves governed by foxes. No other ending will be granted,
no other respite from these evils.
And
you, oh virgin born from the blood of great-minded kings, glory of
Europe, reserved by the Fates for such high responsibilities, hitch
triple lions to your car and advance, encircled by your British
subjects; at length, raise your invincible head under a clear sky.
Then I, my temples girt with the gladsome laurel, undertaking to
proclaim your achievements among the peoples of Italy, and recall
your sacred triumphs in my verses, in after years perhaps shall
acquire the reputation of being your bard.
