“MORGANATIC” OR--?
The Royal ‘at home’ was soon over. Many of those who had the felicity
of breathing in the King’s presence that afternoon remarked upon his
Majesty’s evident good health and high spirits, while others as freely
commented on the unapproachableness and irritability of the Marquis de
Lutera. Sir Walter Langton, the great English traveller, who was taking
his leave of the Sovereign that day, being bound on an expedition to the
innermost recesses of Africa, was not altogether agreeably impressed by
the Premier, whom he met on this occasion for the first and only time.
They had begun their acquaintance by talking generalities,--but drifted
by degrees into the dangerous circle of politics, and were skirting
round the edge of various critical questions of the day, when the
Marquis said abruptly:
“An autocracy would not flourish in your country, I presume, Sir Walter?
The British people have been too long accustomed to sing that they
‘never, never will be slaves.’ Your Government is really more or less of
a Republic.”
“All Governments are so in these days, I imagine,” replied Langton.
“Autocracy on the part of a monarch is nowhere endured, save in
Russia,--and what is Russia? A huge volcano, smouldering with fire, and
ever threatening to break out in flame and engulf the Throne! Monarchs
were not always wisdom personified in olden times,--and I venture to
consider them nowadays less wise and more careless than ever. Only a
return to almost barbaric ignorance and superstition would tolerate any
complete monarchical authority in these present times of progress. It
is only the long serfdom of Russia that hinders the triumph of Liberty
there, as elsewhere.”
The Marquis listened eagerly, and with evident satisfaction.
“I agree with you!” he said. “You consider, then, that in no country,
under any circumstances, could the people be expected to obey their
monarch blindly?”
“Certainly not! Even Rome, with its visible spiritual Head and
Sovereign, has no real power. It imagines it has; but let it make any
decided step to ensnare the liberties of the people at large, and
the result would be somewhat astonishing! Personally--” and he smiled
gravely--“I have often thought that my own country would be very much
benefited by a couple of years existence under an autocrat--an autocrat
like Cromwell, for example. A man strong and fierce, intelligent and
candid,--who would expose shams and destroy abuses,--who would have no
mercy on either religious, social, or political fraud, and who would
perform the part of the necessary hard broom for sweeping the National
house. But, unfortunately, we have no such man. You have,--in your
Sergius Thord!”
The Premier heard this name with unconcealed amazement.
“Sergius Thord! Why he is a mere fanatic----”
“Pardon me!” interrupted Sir Walter,--“so was Cromwell!”
“But, my dear sir!” remonstrated the Marquis smilingly,--“Is it possible
that you really consider Sergius Thord any sort of an influence in this
country? If you do, I assure you you are greatly mistaken!”
“I think not,” responded Sir Walter quietly; “With every respect for
you, Marquis, I believe I am not mistaken! Books written by Sergius
Thord are circulating in their thousands all over the world--his
speeches are reported not only here, but in journals which probably you
never hear of, in far-off countries,--in short, his propaganda is
simply enormous. He is a kind of new Rousseau, without,--so far as I
can learn,--Rousseau’s private vices. He is a man I much wished to see
during my stay here, but I have not had the opportunity of finding him
out. He is an undoubted genius,--but I need not remind you, Marquis,
that a man is never a prophet in his own country! The world’s
‘celebrity’ is always eyed with more or less suspicion as a strange sort
of rogue or vagabond in his own native town or village!”
At that moment, the King, having concluded a conversation with certain
of his guests, who were thereupon leaving the Throne-room, approached
them. He had not spoken a word to the Premier since returning him his
signet-ring, but now he said:
“Marquis, I was almost forgetting a special request I have to make of
you!”
“A request from you is a command, Sir!” replied Lutera with hypocritical
deference and something of a covert sneer, which did not escape the
quick observation of Sir Walter Langton.
“In certain cases it should be so,” returned the King tranquilly; “And
in this you will probably make it so! I have received a volume of poems
by one Paul Zouche. His genius appears to me deserving of encouragement.
A grant of a hundred golden pieces a year will not be too much for his
hundred best poems. Will you see to this?”
The Marquis bowed.
“I have never heard of the man in question,” he replied hesitatingly.
“Probably not,” returned the King smiling;--“How often do Premiers read
poetry, or notice poets? Scarcely ever, if we may credit history! But in
this case----”
“I will make myself immediately acquainted with Paul Zouche, and inform
him of your Majesty’s gracious intention,” the Marquis hastened to say.
“It is quite possible he may refuse the grant,” continued the King;
“Sometimes--though seldom--poets are prouder than Prime Ministers!”
With a brief nod of dismissal he turned away, inviting Sir Walter
Langton to accompany him, and there was nothing more for the Marquis to
do, save to return even as he had come, with two pieces of information
puzzling his brain,--one, that the King’s ‘veto’ had stopped a
declaration of war,--unless,--which was a very remote contingency,--he
and his party could persuade the people to go against the King,--the
other, that some clever spy, with the assistance of a fraudulent
imitation of his signet-ring, had become aware of the financial
interests involved in a private speculation depending on the intended
war, which included himself, Carl Pérousse, and two or three other
members of the Ministry. And, out of these two facts might possibly
arise a whole train of misfortune, ruin and disgrace to those concerned.
It was considerably past three o’clock in the afternoon when the King,
retiring to his own private cabinet, desired Sir Roger de Launay to
inform Prince Humphry that he was now prepared to receive him. Sir Roger
hesitated a moment before going to fulfil the command. The King looked
at him with an indulgent smile.
“Things are moving too quickly, you think, Roger?” he queried. “Upon
my soul, I am beginning to find a new zest in life! I feel some twenty
years younger since I saw the face of the beautiful Gloria yesterday! We
must promote her sailor husband, and bring his pearl of the sea to our
Court!”
“It was on this very subject, Sir, that Von Glauben wished to see your
Majesty the first thing this morning,” said Sir Roger;--“But you refused
him so early an audience. Yet you will remember that yesterday you told
him you wished for an explanation of his acquaintance with this girl. He
was ready and prepared to give it, but was prevented,--not only by your
refusal to see him,--but also by the Prince.”
Drawing up a chair to the open window, the King seated himself
deliberately, and lit a cigar.
“Presumably the Prince knows more than the Professor!” he said calmly;
“We will hear both, and give Royalty the precedence! Tell Prince Humphry
I am waiting for him.”
Sir Roger withdrew, and in another two or three minutes returned,
throwing open the door and ushering in the Prince, who entered with a
quick step, and brief, somewhat haughty salutation. Puffing leisurely at
his cigar, the King glanced his son up and down smilingly, but said not
a word. The Prince stood waiting for his father to speak, till at last,
growing impatient and waiving ceremony, he began.
“I came, Sir, to spare Von Glauben your reproaches,--which he does not
merit. You accused him yesterday, he tells me, of betraying your trust;
he has neither betrayed your trust nor mine! I alone am to blame in this
matter!”
“In what matter?” enquired the King quietly.
Prince Humphry coloured deeply, and then grew pale. There was a ray of
defiance in the light of his fine eyes, but the tumult within his soul
showed itself only in an added composure of his features.
“You wish me to speak plainly, I suppose,” he said;--“though you know
already what I mean. I repeat,--I, and I alone, am to blame,--for--for
anything that seemed strange to you yesterday, when you met Von Glauben
at The Islands.”
The King’s serious face lightened with a gleam of laughter.
“Nothing seemed very strange to me, Humphry,” he said, “except the
one fact that I found Von Glauben,--whom I supposed to be studying
scientific problems,--engaged in studying a woman instead! A very
beautiful woman, too, who ought to be something better than a sailor’s
wife. And I do not understand, as yet, what he has to do with her,
unless--” Here he paused and went on more slowly--“Unless he is, as
I suspect, acting for you in some way, and trying to tempt the fair
creature with the prospect of a prince’s admiration while the sailor
husband is out of the way! Remember, I know nothing--I merely hazard a
guess. You are an habitué of The Islands;--though I learned, on enquiry
of the interesting old gentleman who was good enough to be my host, Réné
Ronsard, that nobody had ever seen you there. They had only seen your
yacht constantly cruising about the bay. This struck me as curious, I
must confess. Some of your men were well known,--particularly one,--the
husband of the pretty girl I saw. Her name, it seems, is Gloria,--and I
must admit that it entirely suits her. I can hardly imagine that if you
have visited The Islands as often as you seem to have done, you can
have escaped seeing her. She is too beautiful to remain unknown to
you--particularly if her husband is, as they tell me, in your service. I
asked her to give me his name, but she refused it point-blank. I do not
wish to accuse you of an amour, which you are perhaps quite innocent
of--but certain things taken in their conjunction look suspicious,--and
I would remind you that honour in princes,--as in all men,--should come
before self-indulgence.”
“I entirely agree with you, Sir!” said the Prince, composedly; “And
in the present case honour has been my first thought, as it will be my
last. Gloria is my wife!”
“Your wife!” The King rose, his tall figure looking taller, his eyes
sparkling with anger from under their deep-set brows. “Your wife! Are
you mad, Humphry! You!----the Heir-Apparent to the Throne! You have
married her!”
“I have!” replied the Prince, and the words now came coursing rapidly
from his lips in his excitement--“I love her! I love her with all my
heart and soul!--and I have given her the only shield and safeguard love
in this world can give! I have married her in my own name--the name of
our family,--which neither she nor any of the humble folk out yonder
have ever heard--but she is wedded to me as fast as Church and Law can
make it,--and there is only one wrong connected with my vows to her--she
does not know who I am. I have deceived her there,--but in nothing else.
Had I told her of my rank, she would never have married me. But now she
is mine,--and for her sake I am willing to resign all pretension to the
Throne in favour of my brother Rupert. Let it be so, I implore you! Let
me live my own life of love and liberty in my own way!”
Rigid as a statue the King stood,--his lips were set hard and his eyes
lowered. Long buried thoughts rose up from the innermost recesses of his
being, and rushed upon his brain in a deluge of remembrance and regret.
What!--after all these years, had the ghost of his first love, the
little self-slain maiden of his boyhood’s dream, risen to avenge herself
in the life of his son? The strangeness of the comparison between
himself as he was now, and the eager passionate youth he was then,
smote him with a sense of sharp pain. Away in those far-off days he had
believed in love as the chief glory of existence; he had considered it
as the poets would have us consider it,--a saving, binding, holding and
immortal influence, which leads to all pure and holy things, even unto
God Himself, the Highest and Holiest of all. When he lost that belief,
how great was his loss!--when he ceased to experience that pure
idealistic emotion, how bitter became the monotony of living! Rapidly
the stream of memory swept over his innermost soul and shook his nerves,
and it was only through a strong effort of self-repression that at last,
lifting up his eyes he fixed them on the flushed face of his son, and
said in measured tones.
“This is a very unexpected and very unhappy confession of yours,
Humphry! You have acted most unwisely!--you have been disloyal to me,
who am not only your father, but your King! You have proved yourself
unworthy of the nation’s trust,--and you have deceived, more cruelly
than you think, an innocent and too-confiding girl. I shall not dispute
the legality of your marriage;--that would not be worth my while.
You have no doubt taken every step to make it as binding as
possible;--however, that is but a trifling matter in your case. You
know that such a marriage is, and can only be morganatic;--and as the
immediate consequence of your amazing folly, a suitable Royal alliance
must be arranged for you at once. The nuptials can be celebrated with
the attainment of your majority next year.”
He spoke coldly and calmly, but his heart was beating with mingled wrath
and pain, and even while he thus pronounced her doom, the exquisite
face of Gloria floated before him like the vision of a perfect innocence
ruined and betrayed. He realised that he possibly had an unusual
character to reckon with in her,--and he had lately become fully aware
that there was as much determination and latent force in the disposition
of his son, as in the mother who had given him birth. Pale and composed,
the young Prince heard him in absolute silence, and when he had
finished, still waited a moment, lest any further word should fall
from the lips of his parent and Sovereign. Then he spoke in quite as
measured, cold and tranquil a manner as the King had done.
“I need not remind you, Sir, that the days of tyranny are over. You
cannot force me into bigamy against my will!”
His father uttered a quick oath.
“Bigamy! Who talks of bigamy?”
“You do, Sir! I have married a beautiful and innocent woman,--she is my
lawful wife in the sight of God and man; yet you coolly propose to give
me a second wife under the ‘morganatic’ law, which, as I view it, is
merely a Royal excuse for bigamy! Now I have no wish to excuse myself
for marrying Gloria,--I consider she has honoured me far more than I
have honoured her. She has given me all her youth, her life, her love,
her beauty and her trust, and whatever I am worth in this world shall
be hers and hers only. I am quite prepared”--and he smiled somewhat
sarcastically,--“to make it a test case, and appeal to the law of the
realm. If that law tolerates a crime in princes, which it would punish
in commoners, then I shall ask the People to judge me!”
“Indeed!” And the King surveyed him with a touch of ironical amusement
and vague admiration for his audacity. “And suppose the people fail to
appreciate the romance of the situation?”
“Then I shall resign my nationality;” said the young man coolly;
“Because a country that legalises a wrong done to the innocent, is not
worth belonging to! Concerning the Throne,--as I told you before--I am
ready to abandon it at once. I would rather lose all the kingdoms of the
world than lose Gloria!”
There was a pause, during which the King took two or three slow paces
up and down the room. At last he turned and faced his son; his eyes were
softer--his look more kindly.
“You are very much in love just now, Humphry!” he said; “And I do not
wish to be too hard on you in this matter, for there can be no question
as to the extraordinary beauty of the girl you call your wife----”
“The girl who _is_ my wife,” interrupted the Prince decisively.
“Very well; so let it be!” said his father calmly; “The girl who _is_
your wife--for the present! I will give you time--plenty of time--to
consider the position reasonably!”
“I have already considered it,” he declared.
“No doubt! You think you have considered it. But if _you_ do not want to
meditate any further upon your marriage problem, you must allow me the
leisure to do so, as one who has seen more of life than you,--as one who
takes things philosophically--and also--as one who was young--once;--who
loved--once;--and who had his own private dreams of happiness--once!” He
rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, and looked him full and fairly in
the eyes. “Let me advise you, Humphry, to go abroad! Travel round the
world for a year!”
The Prince was silent,--but his eyes did not flinch from his father’s
steady gaze. He seemed to be thinking rapidly; but his thoughts were not
betrayed by any movement or expression that could denote anxiety. He was
alert, calm, and perfectly self-possessed.
“I have no objection,” he said at last; “A year is soon past!”
“It is,” agreed the King, with a sense of relief at his ready assent;
“But by the end of that time----”
“Things will be precisely as they are now,” said the Prince tranquilly;
“Gloria will still be my wife, and I shall still be her husband!”
The King gave a gesture of annoyance.
“Whatever the result,” he said, “she cannot, and will not be Crown
Princess!”
“She will not envy that destiny in my brother Rupert’s wife,” said
Prince Humphry quietly; “Nor shall I envy my brother Rupert!”
“You talk like a fool, Humphry!” said the King impatiently; “You cannot
resign your Heir-Apparency to the Throne, without giving a reason;--and
so making known your marriage.”
“That is precisely what I wish to do,” returned the young man. “I have
no intention of keeping my marriage secret. I am proud of it! Gloria is
mine--the joy of my soul--the very pulse of my life! Why should I hide
my heart’s light under a cloud?”
His voice vibrated with tender feeling,--his handsome features were
softened into finer beauty by the passion which invigorated him, and his
father looking at him, thought for a moment that so might the young gods
of the fabled Parnassus have appeared in the height of their symbolic
power and charm. His own eyes grew melancholy, as he studied this
vigorous incarnation of ardent love and passionate resolve; and a slight
sigh escaped him unconsciously.
“You forget!” he said slowly, “you have, up to the present deceived the
girl. She does not know who you are. When she hears that you have played
a part,--that you are no sailor in the service of the Crown Prince, as
you have apparently represented yourself to be, but the Crown Prince
himself, what will she say to you? Perhaps she will hate you for the
deception, as much as she now loves you!”
A shadow darkened the young Prince’s open countenance, but it soon
passed away.
“She will never hate me!” he said,--“For when I do tell her the truth,
it will be when I have resigned all the ridiculous pomp and circumstance
of my position for her sake----”
“Perhaps she will not let you resign it!” said the King; “She may be as
unselfish as she is beautiful!”
There was a slight, very slight note of derision in his voice, and the
Prince caught it up at once.
“You wrong yourself, Sir, more than you wrong my wife by any lurking
misjudgment of her,” he said, with singularly masterful and expressive
dignity. “As her husband, and the guardian of her honour, I also claim
her obedience. What I desire is her law!”
The King laughed a little forcedly.
“Evidently you have found the miracle of the ages, Humphry!” he said;
“A woman who obeys her master! Well! Let us talk no more of it. You have
been guilty of an egregious folly,--but nothing can make your marriage
otherwise than morganatic. And when the State considers a Royal alliance
for you advisable, you will be compelled to obey the country’s wish,--or
else resign the Throne.”
“I shall obey the country’s wish most decidedly,” said the Prince,
“unless it asks me to commit bigamy,--as you suggest,--in which case I
shall decline! Three or four Royal sinners of this class I know of,
who for all their pains have not succeeded in winning the attachment of
their people, either for themselves or their heirs. Their people know
what they are, well enough, and despise their fraudulent position as
heartily as I do! I am perfectly convinced that if it were put to the
vote of the country, no people in the world would wish their future
monarch to be a bigamist!”
“How you stick to a word and a phrase!” exclaimed the King irritably;
“The morganatic rule does away with the very idea of bigamy!”
“How do you prove it, Sir?” queried the Prince. “Bigamy is the act of
contracting a second marriage while the first partner is alive. It is
punished severely in commoners;--why should Royalty escape?”
The King began to laugh. This boy was developing ‘discursive
philosophies’ such as his own old tutor had abhorred.
“Upon my life, I do not know, Humphry!” he declared; “You must ask the
departed shades of those who made themselves responsible for kingship
in the first place. Personally, I do not come under the law. I have only
married once myself!”
His son looked full at him;--and the intensity of that look affected
and unsteadied his usual calm nerves. But he was not one to shirk an
unpleasant suggestion.
“You would say, Humphry, if your filial respect permitted you, that my
one marriage has been amplified in various other ways. Perfectly true!
When women lie down and ask you to walk over them, you do it if you are
a man and a king! When, on the contrary, women show you that they do
not care whether you are royal or the reverse, and despise you more than
admire you, you run after them for all you are worth! At least I do! I
always have done so. And, to a certain extent, it has been amusing. But
the limit is reached. I am growing old!” Here he took up the cigar he
had thrown aside when his son had first startled him by the announcement
of his marriage, and relighting it, began to smoke peaceably. “I am, as
I say, growing old. I have never found what is called love. You have--or
think you have! Enjoy your dream, Humphry--but--take my advice and go
abroad! See whether travel does not work a change in you or,--in her!”
He paused a moment, and while the Prince still regarded him fixedly,
added; “Will you tell the Queen?”
“I will leave you to tell her, Sir, with your permission;” replied the
Prince; “I cannot expect her sympathy.”
“Von Glauben, then, is the only person you have trusted with your
confidence?”
“Von Glauben was no party to my marriage, Sir. I was married fully three
months before I told him. He was greatly vexed and troubled,--but when
he saw Gloria, he was glad.”
“Glad!” echoed the King; “For what reason, pray?”
“I am afraid, Sir,” said the young man with a smile, “his gladness was
but a part of his science! He said it was better for a prince to wed
a healthy and beautiful commoner, than the daughter of a hundred
scrofulous kings!”
With a movement of intense indignation, the monarch sprang up from the
chair in which he had just seated himself.
“Now, by Heaven!” he exclaimed; “Von Glauben goes too far! He shall
suffer for this!”
“Why?” queried the Prince calmly; “You know that what he says is
perfectly true. True? Why, there is scarcely a Royal house in the world
save our own, without its hereditary curse of disease or insanity.
We pay more attention to the breeding of horses than the breeding of
kings!”
The plain candour and veracity of the statement, left no room for
denial.
“You have seen Gloria,” went on the Prince; “You know she is the most
beautiful creature your eyes ever rested upon! Von Glauben told me you
were stricken dumb, and almost stupefied at sight of her----”
“Damn Von Glauben!” said the King.
His son smiled ever so slightly, but continued.
“You have made yourself acquainted with her history--”
“Yes!” said the King; “That she is a foundling picked up from the sea--a
castaway from a wreck!--no one knows who her father and mother were, and
yet you, in your raving madness and folly of love, would make her Crown
Princess and future Queen!”
The Prince went on unheedingly.
“She is beautiful--and the simple method of her bringing up has left her
unspoilt and innocent. She is ignorant of the world’s ways--because--”
and his voice sank to a reverential tenderness--“God’s ways are more
familiar to her!” He paused, but his father was silent; he therefore
went on. “She is healthy, strong, simple and true,--more fit for a
throne, if such were her destiny, than any daughter of any Royal house I
know of. Happy the nation that could call such a woman their Queen!”
“As I have already told you, Humphry,” returned the King, “you are in
love!--with the love of a headstrong, passionate boy for a beautiful and
credulous girl. I do not propose to discuss the subject further. You are
willing to go abroad, you tell me,--then make your preparations at once.
I will select one or two necessary companions for you, and you can start
when you please. I would let Von Glauben accompany you, but--for the
present--I cannot well spare him. Your intended voyage must be made
public, and in this way nothing will be known of the manner in which
you have privately chosen to make a fool of yourself. I will explain
the situation to the Queen;--but beyond that I shall say nothing. Let me
know by to-morrow how soon you can arrange your departure.”
The Prince bowed composedly, and was about to retire, when the King
called him back.
“You do not ask my pardon, Humphry, for the offence you have committed?”
The young man flushed, and bit his lip.
“Sir, I cannot ask pardon for what I do not consider is wrong! I have
married the woman I love; and I intend to be faithful to her. You
married a woman you did not love--and the result, according to my views,
and also according to my experience of my mother and yourself, is
more or less regrettable. If I have offended you, I sincerely beg your
forgiveness, but you must first point out the nature of the offence.
Surely, it must be more gratifying to you to know that I prefer to be a
man of honour than a common seducer?”
The King looked at him, and his own eyes fell under his son’s clear
candid gaze.
“Enough! You may go!” he said briefly.
The door opened and closed again;--he was gone.
The King, left alone, fixed his eyes on the sparkling line of the sea,
brightly blue, and the flower-bordered terrace in front of him. Life was
becoming interesting;--the long burdensome monotony of years had changed
into a variety of contrasting scenes and colours,--and in taking up the
problem of human life as lived by others, more than as lived by himself,
he had entered on a new path, untrodden by conventionalities, and
leading, he knew not whither. But, having begun to walk in it, he was
determined to go on--and to use each new experience as a guide for the
rest of his actions. His son’s marriage with a commoner--one who indeed
was not only a commoner but a foundling--might after all lead to good,
if properly taken in hand,--and he resolved not to make the worst of it,
but rather to let things take their own natural course.
“For love,” he said to himself somewhat bitterly, “in nine cases out of
ten ends in satiety,--marriage, in separation by mutual consent! Let
the boy travel for a year, and forget, if he can, the fair face which
captivates him,--for it is a fair face,--and more than that,--I honestly
believe it is the reflex of a fair soul!”
His eyes grew dreamy and absorbed; away on the horizon a little white
cloud, shaped like the outspread wings of a dove, hovered over the sea
just where The Islands lay.
“Yes! Let him see new scenes--strange lands, and varying customs; let
him hear modern opinions of life, instead of reading the philosophies of
Aurelius and Epictetus, and the poetry written ages ago by the dead wild
souls of the past;--and so he will forget--and all will be well!
While for Gloria herself,--and the old revolutionist Ronsard--we shall
doubtless find ways and means of consolation for them both!”
Thus he mused,--yet in the very midst of his thoughts the echoing memory
of a golden voice, round and rich with delight and triumph rang in his
ears:
“My King crown’d me!
And I and he
Are one till the world shall cease to be!”