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Transcriber's Notes: Words in Greek in the original have been
transliterated and placed between +plus signs+. Words in Hebrew in the
original have been transliterated and placed between #pound signs#.
Words surrounded by _underscores_ are in italics in the original.
Characters superscripted in the original are enclosed in {braces}.
There are diacritic accents in the original. In this text, they are
represented as follows:
[)a] = "a" with a breve [=a] = "a" with a macron
[)e] = "e" with a breve [=e] = "e" with a macron
[)i] = "i" with a breve [=i] = "i" with a macron
[)o] = "o" with a breve [=o] = "o" with a macron
[)u] = "u" with a breve [=u] = "u" with a macron
[)y] = "y" with a breve [=y] = "y" with a macron
Where the diacritics appear as symbols, they are represented by the name
of the symbol or symbols enclosed in brackets as in the following
examples:
[breve]
[macron]
[macron breve]
[macron breve macron]
Where the diacritical characters appear above or below a word, they are
represented in the following manner:
-- indicates a macron
[u] indicates a breve
Some words and phrases have a line drawn through them in the original.
These struck out words are enclosed in brackets with asterisks like
this:
[*these words are struck through*]
Characters printed in a Gothic font are enclosed in brackets with equal
signs like this:
[=these words are in a Gothic font=]
Other Transcriber's Notes follow the text.
THE
COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
OF
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
INCLUDING
POEMS AND VERSIONS OF POEMS NOW
PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME
EDITED
WITH TEXTUAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES
BY
ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE
M.A., HON. F.R.S.L.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II: DRAMATIC WORKS AND APPENDICES
[Illustration]
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1912
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH, NEW YORK
TORONTO AND MELBOURNE
CONTENTS OF VOL. II
DRAMATIC WORKS
1794 PAGE
THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE. An Historic Drama 495
1797
OSORIO. A Tragedy 518
1800
THE PICCOLOMINI; or, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. A Drama
translated from the German of Schiller.
Preface to the First Edition 598
The Piccolomini 600
THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. A Tragedy in Five Acts.
Preface of the Translator to the First Edition 724
The Death of Wallenstein 726
1812
REMORSE.
Preface 812
Prologue 816
Epilogue 817
Remorse. A Tragedy in Five Acts 819
1815
ZAPOLYA. A Christmas Tale in Two Parts.
Advertisement 883
Part I. The Prelude, entitled 'The Usurper's Fortune' 884
Part II. The Sequel, entitled 'The Usurper's Fate' 901
EPIGRAMS 951
An Apology for Spencers 951
On a Late Marriage between an Old Maid and French Petit Maître 952
On an Amorous Doctor 952
'Of smart pretty Fellows,' &c. 952
On Deputy ---- 953
'To be ruled like a Frenchman,' &c. 953
On Mr. Ross, usually Cognominated _Nosy_ 953
'Bob now resolves,' &c. 953
'Say what you will, Ingenious Youth' 954
'If the guilt of all lying,' &c. 954
On an Insignificant 954
'There comes from old Avaro's grave' 954
On a Slanderer 955
Lines in a German Student's Album 955
[Hippona] 955
On a Reader of His Own Verses 955
On a Report of a Minister's Death 956
[Dear Brother Jem] 956
Job's Luck 957
On the Sickness of a Great Minister 957
[To a Virtuous Oeconomist] 958
[L'Enfant Prodigue] 958
On Sir Rubicund Naso 958
To Mr. Pye 959
[Ninety-Eight] 959
Occasioned by the Former 959
[A Liar by Profession] 960
To a Proud Parent 960
Rufa 960
On a Volunteer Singer 960
Occasioned by the Last 961
Epitaph on Major Dieman 961
On the Above 961
Epitaph on a Bad Man (Three Versions) 961
To a Certain Modern Narcissus 962
To a Critic 962
Always Audible 963
Pondere non Numero 963
The Compliment Qualified 963
'What is an Epigram,' &c. 963
'Charles, grave or merry,' &c. 964
'An evil spirit's on thee, friend,' &c. 964
'Here lies the Devil,' &c. 964
To One Who Published in Print, &c. 964
'Scarce any scandal,' &c. 965
'Old Harpy,' &c. 965
To a Vain Young Lady 965
A Hint to Premiers and First Consuls 966
'From me, Aurelia,' &c. 966
For a House-Dog's Collar 966
'In vain I praise thee, Zoilus' 966
Epitaph on a Mercenary Miser 967
A Dialogue between an Author and his Friend 967
+Môrosophia+, or Wisdom in Folly 967
'Each Bond-street buck,' &c. 968
From an Old German Poet 968
On the Curious Circumstance, That in the German, &c. 968
Spots in the Sun 969
'When Surface talks,' &c. 969
To my Candle 969
Epitaph on Himself 970
The Taste of the Times 970
On Pitt and Fox 970
'An excellent adage,' &c. 971
Comparative Brevity of Greek and English 971
On the Secrecy of a Certain Lady 971
Motto for a Transparency, &c. (Two Versions) 972
'Money, I've heard,' &c. 972
Modern Critics 972
Written in an Album 972
To a Lady who requested me to Write a Poem upon Nothing 973
Sentimental 973
'So Mr. Baker,' &c. 973
Authors and Publishers 973
The Alternative 974
'In Spain, that land,' &c. 974
Inscription for a Time-piece 974
On the Most Veracious Anecdotist, &c. 974
'Nothing speaks but mind,' &c. 975
Epitaph of the Present Year on the Monument of Thomas Fuller 975
JEUX D'ESPRIT 976
My Godmother's Beard 976
Lines to Thomas Poole 976
To a Well-known Musical Critic, &c. 977
To T. Poole: An Invitation 978
Song, To be Sung by the Lovers of all the noble liquors, &c. 978
Drinking _versus_ Thinking 979
The Wills of the Wisp 979
To Captain Findlay 980
On Donne's Poem 'To a Flea' 980
[Ex Libris S. T. C.] 981
+EGÔENKAIPAN+ 981
The Bridge Street Committee 982
Nonsense Sapphics 983
To Susan Steele, &c. 984
Association of Ideas 984
Verses Trivocular 985
Cholera Cured Before-hand 985
To Baby Bates 987
To a Child 987
FRAGMENTS FROM A NOTEBOOK, (_circa_ 1796-1798) 988
FRAGMENTS. (_For unnamed Fragments see_ Index of First Lines.) 996
Over my Cottage 997
[The Night-Mare Death in Life] 998
A Beck in Winter 998
[Not a Critic--But a Judge] 1000
[De Profundis Clamavi] 1001
Fragment of an Ode on Napoleon 1003
Epigram on Kepler 1004
[Ars Poetica] 1006
Translation of the First Strophe of Pindar's Second Olympic 1006
Translation of a Fragment of Heraclitus 1007
Imitated from Aristophanes 1008
To Edward Irving 1008
[Luther--De Dæmonibus] 1009
The Netherlands 1009
Elisa: Translated from Claudian 1009
Profuse Kindness 1010
Napoleon 1010
The Three Sorts of Friends 1012
Bo-Peep and I Spy-- 1012
A Simile 1013
Baron Guelph of Adelstan. A Fragment 1013
METRICAL EXPERIMENTS 1014
An Experiment for a Metre ('I heard a Voice, &c.') 1014
Trochaics 1015
The Proper Unmodified Dochmius 1015
Iambics 1015
Nonsense ('Sing, impassionate Soul,' &c.) 1015
A Plaintive Movement 1016
An Experiment for a Metre ('When thy Beauty appears') 1016
Nonsense Verses ('Ye fowls of ill presage') 1017
Nonsense ('I wish on earth to sing') 1017
'There in some darksome shade' 1018
'Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee' 1018
'Songs of Shepherds, and rustical Roundelays' 1018
A Metrical Accident 1019
Notes by Professor Saintsbury 1019
APPENDIX I
FIRST DRAFTS, EARLY VERSIONS, ETC.
A. Effusion 35, August 20th, 1795. (First Draft.) [MS. R.] 1021
Effusion, p. 96 [1797]. (Second Draft.) [MS. R.] 1021
B. Recollection 1023
C. The Destiny of Nations. (Draft I.) [Add. MSS. 34,225] 1024
" " " (Draft II.) [_ibid._] 1026
" " " (Draft III.) [_ibid._] 1027
D. Passages in Southey's _Joan of Arc_ (First Edition, 1796)
contributed by S. T. Coleridge 1027
E. The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere [1798] 1030
F. The Raven. [_M. P._ March 10, 1798.] 1048
G. Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (1.) [B. M. Add. MSS.
27,902.] 1049
The Circassian's Love-Chaunt. (2.) [Add. MSS. 35,343.] 1050
Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (3.) [Add. MSS.
35,343.] 1051
H. Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie. [_M. P._ Dec. 21,
1799.] 1051
I. The Triumph of Loyalty. An Historic Drama. [Add. MSS.
34,225.] 1069
J. Chamouny; The Hour before Sunrise. A Hymn. [_M. P._ Sept. 11,
1802.] 1074
K. Dejection: An Ode. [_M. P._ Oct. 4, 1802.] 1076
L. To W. Wordsworth. January 1807 1081
M. Youth and Age. (MS. I, Sept. 10, 1823.) 1084
" " (MS. II. 1.) 1085
" " (MS. II. 2.) 1086
N. Love's Apparition and Evanishment. (First Draft.) 1087
O. Two Versions of the Epitaph. ('Stop, Christian,' &c.) 1088
P. [Habent sua Fata--Poetae.] ('The Fox, and Statesman,' &c.) 1089
Q. To John Thelwall 1090
R. [Lines to T. Poole.] [1807.] 1090
APPENDIX II
ALLEGORIC VISION 1091
APPENDIX III
APOLOGETIC PREFACE TO 'FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER' 1097
APPENDIX IV
PROSE VERSIONS OF POEMS, ETC.
A. Questions and Answers in the Court of Love 1109
B. Prose Version of Glycine's Song in _Zapolya_ 1109
C. Work without Hope. (First Draft.) 1110
D. Note to Line 34 of the _Joan of Arc_ Book II. [4{o} 1796.] 1112
E. Dedication. Ode on the Departing Year. [4{o} 1796.] 1113
F. Preface to the MS. of _Osorio_ 1114
APPENDIX V
ADAPTATIONS
From Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke:
God and the World _we_ worship still together 1115
The _Augurs_ we of all the world admir'd 1116
Of Humane Learning 1116
From Sir John Davies: On the Immortality of the Soul 1116
From Donne: Eclogue. 'On Unworthy Wisdom' 1117
Letter to Sir Henry Goodyere 1117
From Ben Jonson: A Nymph's Passion (Mutual Passion) 1118
Underwoods, No. VI. The Hour-glass 1119
The Poetaster, Act I, Scene i. 1120
From Samuel Daniel: Epistle to Sir Thomas Egerton, Knight 1120
Musophilus, Stanza CXLVII 1121
Musophilus, Stanzas XXVII, XXIX, XXX 1122
From Christopher Harvey: The Synagogue (The Nativity, or
Christmas Day.) 1122
From Mark Akenside: Blank Verse Inscriptions 1123
From W. L. Bowles: 'I yet remain' 1124
From an old Play: Napoleon 1124
APPENDIX VI
ORIGINALS OF TRANSLATIONS
F. von Matthison: Ein milesisches Mährchen, Adonide. 1125
Schiller: Schwindelnd trägt er dich fort auf rastlos strömenden
Wogen. 1125
Im Hexameter steigt des Springquells flüssige Säule. 1125
Stolberg: Unsterblicher Jüngling! 1126
Seht diese heilige Kapell! 1126
Schiller: Nimmer, das glaubt mir. 1127
Goethe: Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen blühn. 1128
François-Antoine-Eugène de Planard: 'Batelier, dit Lisette.' 1128
German Folk Song: Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär. 1129
Stolberg; Mein Arm wird stark und gross mein Muth. 1129
Leasing: Ich fragte meine Schöne. 1130
Stolberg: Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme! 1130
Friederike Brun: Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigenden
Tannenhains. 1131
Giambattista Marino: Donna, siam rei di morte. Errasti, errai. 1131
MS. Notebook: In diesem Wald, in diesen Gründen. 1132
Anthologia Graeca: +Koinê par klisiê lêthargikos êde
phrenoplêx+ 1132
Battista Guarini: Canti terreni amori. 1132
Stolberg: Der blinde Sänger stand am Meer. 1134
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 1135
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX
No. I. Poems first published in Newspapers or Periodicals. 1178
No. II. Epigrams and Jeux d'Esprit first published in Newspapers
and Periodicals. 1182
No. III. Poems included in Anthologies and other Works. 1183
No. IV. Poems first printed or reprinted in _Literary Remains_,
1836, &c. 1187
Poems first printed or reprinted in _Essays on His Own Times_,
1850. 1188
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 1189
ERRATA
On p. 1179, line 7, _for_ Sept. 27, _read_ Sept. 23.
On p. 1181, line 33, _for_ Oct. 9 _read_ Oct. 29.
DRAMATIC WORKS
THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE[495:1]
AN HISTORIC DRAMA
[_First Act_ by Coleridge: _Second and Third_ by Southey--1794.]
TO
H. MARTIN, ESQ.
OF
JESUS COLLEGE
CAMBRIDGE
DEAR SIR,
Accept, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following
Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an interesting
form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a disastrous
lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot
could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts,
it has been my sole aim to imitate the empassioned and highly figurative
language of the French orators, and to develope the characters of the
chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.
Yours fraternally,
S. T. COLERIDGE.
JESUS COLLEGE, _September_ 22, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[495:1] First published (as an octavo pamphlet) at Cambridge by Benjamin
Flower in 1794: included in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. (1)-32. First
collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877-80, in. (1)-39. 'It will be remarked,'
writes J. D. Campbell (_P. W._, 1893, p. 646), 'that neither title-page
nor dedication contains any hint of the joint authorship.' On this point
Coleridge writes to Southey, September 19, 1794:--'The tragedy will be
printed in less than a week. I shall put my name because it will sell at
least a hundred copies in Cambridge. It would appear ridiculous to print
two names to such a work. But if you choose it, mention it and it shall
be done. To every man who _praises_ it, of course I give the _true_
biography of it.' _Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, i. 85.
ACT I
SCENE--_The Thuilleries._
_Barrere._ The tempest gathers--be it mine to seek
A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him.
But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's _soul_--
Sudden in action, fertile in resource,
And rising awful 'mid impending ruins; 5
In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,
That fearless thwarts the elemental war.
When last in secret conference we met,
He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage,
Making his eye the inmate of my bosom. 10
I know he scorns me--and I feel, I hate him--
Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble! [_Exit._
_Enter TALLIEN and LEGENDRE._
_Tallien._ It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him?
Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went,
And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning. 15
_Legendre._ I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance;
It menac'd not so proudly as of yore.
Methought he would have spoke--but that he dar'd not--
Such agitation darken'd on his brow.
_Tallien._ 'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting 20
Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face:
E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards
Hurries the thundercloud, that pois'd awhile
Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.
_Legendre._ Perfidious Traitor!--still afraid to bask 25
In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpent
Lurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness,
Ever prepared to sting who shelters him.
Each thought, each action in himself converges;
And love and friendship on his coward heart 30
Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice;
To all attach'd, by turns deserting all,
Cunning and dark--a necessary villain!
_Tallien._ Yet much depends upon him--well you know
With plausible harangue 'tis his to paint 35
Defeat like victory--and blind the mob
With truth-mix'd falsehood. They led on by him,
And wild of head to work their own destruction,
Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.
_Legendre._ O what a precious name is Liberty 40
To scare or cheat the simple into slaves!
Yes--we must gain him over: by dark hints
We'll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears,
Till the cold coward blaze a patriot.
O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels-- 45
Hover around me on sad Memory's wings,
And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart.
Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sun
Beholds the Tyrant living--we are dead!
_Tallien._ Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings-- 50
_Legendre._ Fear not--or rather fear th' alternative,
And seek for courage e'en in cowardice--
But see--hither he comes--let us away!
His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon,
And high of haughty spirit, young St. Just. [_Exeunt._ 55
_Enter ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST. JUST, and ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR._
_Robespierre._ What? did La Fayette fall before my power?
And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues?
The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue?
And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold?
Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them? 60
What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its point
Vain, as a _dream_ of murder, at my bosom?
And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien?
Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien?
Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him, 65
Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow
Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!
_St. Just._ I cannot fear him--yet we must not scorn him.
Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus,
Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70
The state is not yet purified: and though
The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies
The thick black sediment of all the factions--
It needs no magic hand to stir it up!
_Couthon._ O we did wrong to spare them--fatal error! 75
Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died?
And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes?
_I've_ fear'd him, since his iron heart endured
To make of Lyons one vast human shambles,
Compar'd with which the sun-scorcht wilderness 80
Of Zara were a smiling paradise.
_St. Just._ Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is one
Who flies from silent solitary anguish,
Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar
Of elements. The howl of maniac uproar 85
Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself.
A calm is fatal to him--then he feels
The dire upboilings of the storm within him.
A tiger mad with inward wounds!--I dread
The fierce and restless turbulence of guilt. 90
_Robespierre._ Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal?
Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet?
And Henriot? We'll denounce an hundred, nor
Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.
_Robespierre Junior._ Nay--I am sick of blood; my aching heart 95
Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrors
That still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic.
I should have died before Toulon, when war
Became the patriot!
_Robespierre._ Most unworthy wish!
He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors, 100
Would be himself a traitor, were he not
A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone
Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate.
O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye
Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle-- 105
Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity
Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest!
There is unsoundness in the state--To-morrow
Shall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!
_Robespierre Junior._ Beware! already do the sections murmur-- 110
'O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre--
The _tyrant guardian_ of the country's _freedom_!'
_Couthon._ 'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!
Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart
Of cold Barrere!
_Robespierre._ I see the villain in him! 115
_Robespierre Junior._ If he--if all forsake thee--what remains?
_Robespierre._ Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul
And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues!
The giant Victories my counsels form'd
Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes, 120
Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.
[_Exeunt caeteri. Manet COUTHON._
_Couthon (solus)._ So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues
Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!
Still, Robespierre! thou'lt guard thy country's freedom
To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. 125
While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours,
Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers--blood-stain'd tyrant!
Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream,
Making such deep impression on our sleep--
That long th' awakened breast retains its horrors! 130
But he returns--and with him comes Barrere. [_Exit COUTHON._
_Enter ROBESPIERRE and BARRERE._
_Robespierre._ There is no danger but in cowardice.--
Barrere! we _make_ the danger, when we _fear_ it.
We have such force without, as will suspend
The cold and trembling treachery of these members. 135
_Barrere._ 'Twill be a pause of terror.--
_Robespierre._ But to whom?
Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest,
Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors!
Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak!
A pause!--a _moment's_ pause?--'Tis all _their life_. 140
_Barrere._ Yet much they talk--and plausible their speech.
Couthon's decree has given such powers, that--
_Robespierre._ That what?
_Barrere._ The freedom of debate--
_Robespierre._ Transparent mask!
They wish to clog the wheels of government,
Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine 145
To bribe them to their duty--_English_ patriots!
Are not the congregated clouds of war
Black all around us? In our very vitals
Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion?
Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings 150
Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears
Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice?
Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first
Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it;
And to the virtuous patriot rendered light 155
By the necessities that gave it birth:
The other fouls the fount of the republic,
Making it flow polluted to all ages:
Inoculates the state with a slow venom,
That once imbibed, must be continued ever. 160
Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them--
Therefore they hate me.
_Barrere._ Are the sections friendly?
_Robespierre._ There are who wish my ruin--but I'll make them
Blush for the crime in blood!
_Barrere._ Nay--but I tell thee,
Thou art too fond of slaughter--and the right 165
(If right it be) workest by most foul means!
_Robespierre._ _Self-centering Fear!_ how well thou canst ape
_Mercy_!
Too fond of slaughter!--matchless hypocrite!
Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died?
Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets 170
Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'erwearied
Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood?
And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square
Sick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain,
Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? 175
Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors,
And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now
Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar,
Or, like a frighted child behind its mother,
Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of--_Mercy_! 180
_Barrere._ O prodigality of eloquent anger!
Why now I see thou'rt weak--thy case is desperate!
The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder!
_Robespierre._ Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blow
Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. 185
Denounced twice--and twice I saved his life! [_Exit._
_Barrere._ The sections will support them--there's the point!
No! he can never weather out the storm--
Yet he is sudden in revenge--No more!
I must away to Tallien. [_Exit._ 190
_SCENE changes to the house of ADELAIDE._
_ADELAIDE enters, speaking to a_ Servant.
_Adelaide._ Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee?
Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?
_Servant._ He is in the Thuilleries--with him Legendre--
In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'd
He waved his hand as bidding me retire: 195
I did not interrupt him. [_Returns the letter._
_Adelaide._ Thou didst rightly. [_Exit_ Servant.
O this new freedom! at how dear a price
We've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtues
And every blandishment of private life,
The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment, 200
All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot.
The wingéd hours, that scatter'd roses round me,
Languid and sad drag their slow course along,
And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings.
But I will steal away these anxious thoughts 205
By the soft languishment of warbled airs,
If haply melodies may lull the sense
Of sorrow for a while. [_Soft music._
_Enter TALLIEN._
_Tallien._ Music, my love? O breathe again that air!
Soft nurse of pain, it sooths the weary soul 210
Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of evening
That plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.
SONG[501:1]
Tell me, on what holy ground
May domestic peace be found?
Halcyon daughter of the skies, 215
Far on fearful wing she flies,
From the pomp of scepter'd state,
From the rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottag'd vale she dwells
List'ning to the Sabbath bells! 220
Still around her steps are seen,
Spotless honor's meeker mien,
Love, the sire of pleasing fears,
Sorrow smiling through her tears,
And conscious of the past employ, 225
Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
_Tallien._ I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful.
But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan?
Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some stream
That sighs away the soul in fond despairing, 230
While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her,
Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.
_Adelaide._ Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowers
On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong--
Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil? 235
_Tallien._ Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt?
Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers?
It has been borne too tamely. Fears and curses
Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams
Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. 240
He dies!--nor has the plot escaped his fears.
_Adelaide._ Yet--yet--be cautious! much I fear the Commune--
The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with his
Fast link'd in close indissoluble union.
The pale Convention--
_Tallien._ Hate him as they fear him, 245
Impatient of the chain, resolv'd and ready.
_Adelaide._ Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons--
_Tallien._ They are aweary of his stern morality,
The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride.
The sections too support the delegates: 250
All--all is ours! e'en now the vital air
Of Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting
(Force irresistible!) from its compressure--
To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!
_Enter BILLAUD VARENNES and BOURDON L'OISE._
[_ADELAIDE retires._
_Bourdon l'Oise._ Tallien! was this a time for amorous
conference? 255
Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature,
Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce Club,
With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim
Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood
Float on the scaffold.--But who comes here? 260
_Enter BARRERE abruptly._
_Barrere._ Say, are ye friends to freedom? _I am her's!_
Let us, forgetful of all common feuds,
Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrant
Concerts a plan of instant massacre!
_Billaud Varennes._ Away to the Convention! with that voice 265
So oft the herald of glad victory,
Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears
The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin!
The violent workings of my soul within
Anticipate the monster's blood! 270
[_Cry from the street of--No Tyrant! Down with the Tyrant!_
_Tallien._ Hear ye that outcry?--If the trembling members
Even for a moment hold his fate suspended,
I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar,
This dagger probes his heart! [_Exeunt omnes._
FOOTNOTES:
[501:1] This Song was reprinted in Coleridge's _Poems_ of 1796, and
later under the title of _To Domestic Peace_, _vide ante_, pp. 71, 72.
ACT II
SCENE--_The Convention._
_Robespierre mounts the Tribune._ Once more befits it that the voice
of Truth,
Fearless in innocence, though leaguered round
By Envy and her hateful brood of hell,
Be heard amid this hall; once more befits
The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft 5
Has pierced thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimes
Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave
Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand
Levelled to earth his blood-cemented throne,
My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France 10
To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave
Where sleep the Girondists, detested band!
Long with the shew of freedom they abused
Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase,
The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone 15
Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall,
Till reason midst a labyrinth of words
Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent.
I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend,
Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call-- 20
Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal
I urg'd the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask
From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd
Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd down
Hébert and Rousin, and the villain friends 25
Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who long
Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb,
Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy
Omnipotence! but I it seems am false!
I am a traitor too! I--Robespierre! 30
I--at whose name the dastard despot brood
Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them!
Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie
My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band,
Of what am I accus'd? of what strange crime 35
Is Maximilian Robespierre accus'd,
That through this hall the buz of discontent
Should murmur? who shall speak?
_Billaud Varennes._ O patriot tongue
Belying the foul heart! Who was it urg'd
Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, 40
Whose influence brooding o'er this hallowed hall,
Has chill'd each tongue to silence? Who destroyed
The freedom of debate, and carried through
The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates,
Unheard before their equals, to the bar 45
Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd
With her Dumas coequal? Say--thou man
Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?
_Couthon._ That law was mine. I urged it--I propos'd--
The voice of France assembled in her sons 50
Assented, though the tame and timid voice
Of traitors murmur'd. I advis'd that law--
I justify it. It was wise and good.
_Barrere._ Oh, wonderous wise and most convenient too!
I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre--and now 55
Proclaim thee traitor tyrant! [_Loud applauses._
_Robespierre._ It is well.
I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen
When Regnault lifted high the murderous knife,
Regnault the instrument belike of those
Who now themselves would fain assassinate, 60
And legalise their murders. I stand here
An isolated patriot--hemmed around
By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd
By the foul hell-hounds who know no escape
From Justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force 65
That pierces through her breast.
[_Murmurs, and shouts of--Down with the Tyrant!_
_Robespierre._ Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time
When Robespierre began, the loud applauses
Of honest patriots drown'd the honest sound.
But times are chang'd, and villainy prevails. 70
_Collot d'Herbois._ No--villainy shall fall. France could not brook
A monarch's sway--sounds the dictator's name
More soothing to her ear?
_Bourdon l'Oise._ Rattle her chains
More musically now than when the hand
Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew 75
Of Hébert thundered out their blasphemies,
And Danton talk'd of virtue?
_Robespierre._ Oh, that Brissot
Were here again to thunder in this hall,
That Hébert lived, and Danton's giant form
Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul 80
Might cope with worthy foes.
People of France,
Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law
Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive:
The hydra-headed faction lifts anew
Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, 85
Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles
Against the sons of Freedom.
_Tallien._ Freedom lives!
Oppression falls--for France has felt her chains,
Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forth
Amid the hall of Jacobins to save 90
Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch
D'Eglantine?
_Robespierre._ I did--for I thought them honest.
And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike,
Ere justice doom'd the blow.
_Barrere._ Traitor, thou didst.
Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs, 95
Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm
Lower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker,
Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate.
Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veil
Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man, 100
Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France,
The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots
Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds
Dishonour thine! He the firm patriot,
Thou the foul parricide of Liberty! 105
_Robespierre Junior._ Barrere--attempt not meanly to divide
Me from my brother. I partake his guilt,
For I partake his virtue.
_Robespierre._ Brother, by my soul,
More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus
With me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path 110
Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cords
Of kindred round us.
_Barrere._ Yes, allied in guilt,
Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch,
Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd,
Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd 115
Each patriot representative of France?
_Bourdon l'Oise._ Was not the younger Caesar too to reign
O'er all our valiant armies in the south,
And still continue there his merchant wiles?
_Robespierre Junior._ His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience,
heaven! 120
Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you back
Toulon, when proudly on her captive towers
Wav'd high the English flag? or fought I then
With merchant wiles, when sword in hand I led
Your troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like, 125
Or barter'd I for victory, when death
Strode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride,
And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'd
Amid the bloody banquet? when appall'd
The hireling sons of England spread the sail 130
Of safety, fought I like a merchant then?
Oh, patience! patience!
_Bourdon l'Oise._ How this younger tyrant
Mouths out defiance to us! even so
He had led on the armies of the south,
Till once again the plains of France were drench'd 135
With her best blood.
_Collot d'Herbois._ Till once again display'd
Lyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forth
The minister of wrath, whilst slaughter by
Had bathed in human blood.
_Dubois Crancé._ No wonder, friend,
That we are traitors--that our heads must fall 140
Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-like
Reigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doom
The fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man,
Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France,
As it had been some province won in fight, 145
Between your curst triumvirate? You, Couthon,
Go with my brother to the southern plains;
St. Just, be yours the army of the north;
Meantime I rule at Paris.
_Robespierre._ Matchless knave!
What--not one blush of conscience on thy cheek-- 150
Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale!
That I who ruined Brissot's towering hopes,
I who discover'd Hébert's impious wiles,
And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe,
Should now be traitor! had I been so minded, 155
Think ye I had destroyed the very men
Whose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofs
Of this deep treason. Tell me in whose breast
Found ye the fatal scroll? or tell me rather
Who forg'd the shameless falsehood?
_Collot d'Herbois._ Ask you proofs? 160
Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?
_Legendre._ What proofs adduced you when the Danton died?
When at the imminent peril of my life
I rose, and fearless of thy frowning brow,
Proclaim'd him guiltless?
_Robespierre._ I remember well 165
The fatal day. I do repent me much
That I kill'd Caesar and spar'd Antony.
But I have been too lenient. I have spared
The stream of blood, and now my own must flow
To fill the current. [_Loud applauses._
Triumph not too soon, 170
Justice may yet be victor.
_Enter ST. JUST, and mounts the Tribune._
_St. Just._ I come from the Committee--charged to speak
Of matters of high import. I omit
Their orders. Representatives of France,
Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just 175
What his own heart shall dictate.
_Tallien._ Hear ye this,
Insulted delegates of France? St. Just
From your Committee comes--comes charg'd to speak
Of matters of high import, yet omits
Their orders! Representatives of France, 180
That bold man I denounce, who disobeys
The nation's orders.--I denounce St. Just. [_Loud applauses._
_St. Just._ Hear me! [_Violent murmurs._
_Robespierre._ He shall be heard!
_Bourdon l'Oise._ Must we contaminate this sacred hall
With the foul breath of treason?
_Collot d'Herbois._ Drag him away! 185
Hence with him to the bar.
_Couthon._ Oh, just proceedings!
Robespierre prevented liberty of speech--
And Robespierre is a tyrant! Tallien reigns,
He dreads to hear the voice of innocence--
And St. Just must be silent!
_Legendre._ Heed we well 190
That justice guide our actions. No light import
Attends this day. I move St. Just be heard.
_Freron._ Inviolate be the sacred right of man.
The freedom of debate. [_Violent applauses._
_St. Just._ I may be heard then! much the times are chang'd, 195
When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him.
Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France,
Judge not too soon. By popular discontent
Was Aristides driven into exile,
Was Phocion murder'd. Ere ye dare pronounce 200
Robespierre is guilty, it befits ye well,
Consider who accuse him. Tallien,
Bourdon of Oise--the very men denounced,
For that their dark intrigues disturb'd the plan
Of government. Legendre the sworn friend 205
Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Crancé,
He who at Lyons spared the royalists--
Collot d'Herbois--
_Bourdon l'Oise._ What--shall the traitor rear
His head amid our tribune--and blaspheme
Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction-- 210
_St. Just._ I am of no one faction. I contend
Against all factions.
_Tallien._ I espouse the cause
Of truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronounced
Upon his own authority a report.
To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects 215
What the Committee orders, and harangues
From his own will. O citizens of France
I weep for you--I weep for my poor country--
I tremble for the cause of Liberty,
When individuals shall assume the sway, 220
And with more insolence than kingly pride
Rule the Republic.
_Billaud Varennes._ Shudder, ye representatives of France,
Shudder with horror. Henriot commands
The marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot, 225
Foul parricide--the sworn ally of Hébert,
Denounced by all--upheld by Robespierre.
Who spar'd La Valette? who promoted him,
Stain'd with the deep dye of nobility?
Who to an ex-peer gave the high command? 230
Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief?
Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty?
Robespierre, the self-stil'd patriot Robespierre--
Robespierre, allied with villain Daubigné--
Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre. 235
_Bourdon l'Oise._ He talks of virtue--of morality--
Consistent patriot! he Daubigné's friend!
Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue,
Yet league with villains, for with Robespierre
Villains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant! 240
I stile thee tyrant, Robespierre! [_Loud applauses._
_Robespierre._ Take back the name. Ye citizens of France--
[_Violent clamour. Cries of--Down with the Tyrant!_
_Tallien._ Oppression falls. The traitor stands appall'd--
Guilt's iron fangs engrasp his shrinking soul--
He hears assembled France denounce his crimes! 245
He sees the mask torn from his secret sins--
He trembles on the precipice of fate.
Fall'n guilty tyrant! murder'd by thy rage
How many an innocent victim's blood has stain'd
Fair freedom's altar! Sylla-like thy hand 250
Mark'd down the virtues, that, thy foes removed,
Perpetual Dictator thou might'st reign,
And tyrannize o'er France, and call it freedom!
Long time in timid guilt the traitor plann'd
His fearful wiles--success emboldened sin-- 255
And his stretch'd arm had grasp'd the diadem
Ere now, but that the coward's heart recoil'd,
Lest France awak'd should rouse her from her dream,
And call aloud for vengeance. He, like Caesar,
With rapid step urged on his bold career, 260
Even to the summit of ambitious power,
And deem'd the name of King alone was wanting.
Was it for this we hurl'd proud Capet down?
Is it for this we wage eternal war
Against the tyrant horde of murderers, 265
The crownéd cockatrices whose foul venom
Infects all Europe? was it then for this
We swore to guard our liberty with life,
That Robespierre should reign? the spirit of freedom
Is not yet sunk so low. The glowing flame 270
That animates each honest Frenchman's heart
Not yet extinguish'd. I invoke thy shade,
Immortal Brutus! I too wear a dagger;
And if the representatives of France,
Through fear or favour, should delay the sword 275
Of justice, Tallien emulates thy virtues;
Tallien, like Brutus, lifts the avenging arm;
Tallien shall save his country. [_Violent applauses._
_Billaud Varennes._ I demand
The arrest of all the traitors. Memorable
Will be this day for France.
_Robespierre._ Yes! Memorable 280
This day will be for France--for villains triumph.
_Lebas._ I will not share in this day's damning guilt.
Condemn me too. [_Great cry--Down with the Tyrants!_
(_The two ROBESPIERRES, COUTHON, ST. JUST, and LEBAS are led off._)
ACT III
SCENE CONTINUES.
_Collot d'Herbois._ Caesar is fall'n! The baneful tree of Java,
Whose death-distilling boughs dropt poisonous dew,
Is rooted from its base. This worse than Cromwell,
The austere, the self-denying Robespierre,
Even in this hall, where once with terror mute 5
We listen'd to the hypocrite's harangues,
Has heard his doom.
_Billaud Varennes._ Yet must we not suppose
The tyrant will fall tamely. His sworn hireling
Henriot, the daring desperate Henriot,
Commands the force of Paris. I denounce him. 10
_Freron._ I denounce Fleuriot too, the mayor of Paris.
_Enter DUBOIS CRANCÉ._
_Dubois Crancé._ Robespierre is rescued. Henriot at the head
Of the arm'd force has rescued the fierce tyrant.
_Collot d'Herbois._ Ring the tocsin--call all the citizens
To save their country--never yet has Paris 15
Forsook the representatives of France.
_Tallien._ It is the hour of danger. I propose
This sitting be made permanent. [_Loud applauses._
_Collot d'Herbois._ The National Convention shall remain
Firm at its post. 20
_Enter a_ Messenger.
_Messenger._ Robespierre has reach'd the Commune. They espouse
The tyrant's cause. St. Just is up in arms!
St. Just--the young ambitious bold St. Just
Harangues the mob. The sanguinary Couthon
Thirsts for your blood. [_Tocsin rings._ 25
_Tallien._ These tyrants are in arms against the law:
Outlaw the rebels.
_Enter MERLIN OF DOUAY._
_Merlin._ Health to the representatives of France!
I past this moment through the arméd force--
They ask'd my name--and when they heard a delegate, 30
Swore I was not the friend of France.
_Collot d'Herbois._ The tyrants threaten us as when they turn'd
The cannon's mouth on Brissot.
_Enter another_ Messenger.
_Second Messenger._ Vivier harangues the Jacobins--the Club
Espouse the cause of Robespierre. 35
_Enter another_ Messenger.
_Third Messenger._ All's lost--the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads
The soldiers to his aid.--Already I hear
The rattling cannon destined to surround
This sacred hall.
_Tallien._ Why, we will die like men then.
The representatives of France dare death, 40
When duty steels their bosoms. [_Loud applauses._
_Tallien (addressing the galleries)._ Citizens!
France is insulted in her delegates--
The majesty of the Republic is insulted--
Tyrants are up in arms. An arméd force
Threats the Convention. The Convention swears 45
To die, or save the country!
[_Violent applauses from the galleries._
_Citizen (from above)._ We too swear
To die, or save the country. Follow me.
[_All the men quit the galleries._
_Enter another_ Messenger.
_Fourth Messenger._ Henriot is taken! [_Loud applauses._
Three of your brave soldiers
Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants,
Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd 50
The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob,
They seiz'd him. [_Applauses._
_Billaud Varennes._ Let the names of these brave men
Live to the future day.
_Enter BOURDON L'OISE, sword in hand._
_Bourdon l'Oise._ I have clear'd the Commune.
[_Applauses._
Through the throng I rush'd,
Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade 55
Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels
Gave way. I met the soldiery--I spake
Of the dictator's crimes--of patriots chain'd
In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage--
Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power. 60
I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts
Caught the warm flame. The general shout burst forth,
'Live the Convention--Down with Robespierre!' [_Applauses._
(_Shouts from without--Down with the Tyrant!_)
_Tallien._ I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds,
France shall be saved! her generous sons attached 65
To principles, not persons, spurn the idol
They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall
As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem
That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne,
That the almighty people who have broke 70
On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain,
Will court again their fetters! easier were it
To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base,
Than force the bonds of slavery upon men
Determined to be free! [_Applauses._ 75
_Enter LEGENDRE--a pistol in one hand, keys in the other._
_Legendre (flinging down the keys)._ So--let the mutinous Jacobins
meet now
In the open air. [_Loud applauses._
A factious turbulent party
Lording it o'er the state since Danton died,
And with him the Cordeliers.--A hireling band
Of loud-tongued orators controull'd the Club, 80
And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre.
Vivier has 'scaped me. Curse his coward heart--
This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand,
I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye
That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full 85
With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng
He mingled. I pursued--but stay'd my hand,
Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood. [_Applauses._
_Freron._ They took from me my ticket of admission--
Expell'd me from their sittings.--Now, forsooth, 90
Humbled and trembling re-insert my name.
But Freron enters not the Club again
'Till it be purged of guilt:--'till, purified
Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men
May breathe the air in safety. [_Shouts from without._ 95
_Barrere._ What means this uproar! if the tyrant band
Should gain the people once again to rise--
We are as dead!
_Tallien._ And wherefore fear we death?
Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends
Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, 100
And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death,
Brutus must scorn the bugbear.
(_Shouts from without--Live the Convention!--Down with the Tyrants!_)
_Tallien._ Hark! again
The sounds of honest Freedom!
_Enter_ Deputies _from the_ Sections.
_Citizen._ Citizens! representatives of France!
Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris 105
Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear
They will defend the delegates of Freedom.
_Tallien._ Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren?
And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts?
My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen 110
The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke;
I have, as much as lies in mine own arm,
Hurl'd down the usurper.--Come death when it will,
I have lived long enough. [_Shouts without._
_Barrere._ Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom 115
Of the still evening--harbinger of death,
Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale
Thunders through Paris--
[_Cry without--Down with the Tyrant!_
_Enter LECOINTRE._
_Lecointre._ So may eternal justice blast the foes
Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood, 120
As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens,
Caesar is taken. [_Loud and repeated applauses._
I marvel not that with such fearless front
He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye
Scowled round the hall defiance. He relied 125
On Henriot's aid--the Commune's villain friendship,
And Henriot's _boughten_ succours. Ye have heard
How Henriot rescued him--how with open arms
The Commune welcom'd in the rebel tyrant--
How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier 130
Stirr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost--
The representatives of France had perish'd--
Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm
Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit
Inspir'd the men of Paris. Henriot call'd 135
'To arms' in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice
Breathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins
Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled--
They reach'd the Hôtel. We gather'd round--we call'd
For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, 140
With knives they hack'd around them. 'Till foreboding
The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry
Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction,
Each sought by suicide to escape the dread
Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window 145
Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractur'd limb
Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator
Plunged often the keen knife in his dark breast,
Yet impotent to die. He lives all mangled
By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored 150
He lives to taste the bitterness of death.
Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon,
The fierce St. Just, even now attend their tyrant
To fall beneath the axe. I saw the torches
Flash on their visages a dreadful light-- 155
I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown
Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye
Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived,
Fearless of fate! [_Loud and repeated applauses._
_Barrere mounts the Tribune._ For ever hallowed be this glorious
day, 160
When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain,
Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant
Hurl'd from his blood-cemented throne, by the arm
Of the almighty people, meets the death
He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart 165
Has sunk within me, when the various woes
Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain
In ghastly numbers--when assembled hordes,
Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power,
Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, 170
And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with blood
The reeking fields of Flanders.--When within,
Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth
Of treason; and oppression, giant form,
Trampling on freedom, left the alternative 175
Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day,
When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced
The doom of injured France, has faction reared
Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd
Of mercy--the uxorious dotard Roland, 180
The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire
To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue,
And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honeyed tongue
Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction.
We triumphed over these. On the same scaffold 185
Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood,
Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons,
And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet,
And Hébert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand
Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, 190
With all the infidel's intolerance.
The last worst traitor triumphed--triumph'd long,
Secur'd by matchless villainy--by turns
Defending and deserting each accomplice
As interest prompted. In the goodly soil 195
Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck
Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death
On all who slumber'd in its specious shade.
He wove the web of treachery. He caught
The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, 200
His cool ferocity that persuaded murder,
Even whilst it spake of mercy!--never, never
Shall this regenerated country wear
The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail,
And with worse fury urge this new crusade 205
Than savages have known; though the leagued despots
Depopulate all Europe, so to pour
The accumulated mass upon our coasts,
Sublime amid the storm shall France arise,
And like the rock amid surrounding waves 210
Repel the rushing ocean.--She shall wield
The thunder-bolt of vengeance--she shall blast
The despot's pride, and liberate the world!
FINIS
OSORIO
A TRAGEDY[518:1]
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
[_Not in MSS._]
_Osorio_, 1797. _Remorse._
_VELEZ_ = _MARQUIS VALDEZ, Father to the two brothers, and
Doña Teresa's Guardian._
_ALBERT_ = _DON ALVAR, the eldest son._
_OSORIO_ = _DON ORDONIO, the youngest son._
_FRANCESCO_ = _MONVIEDRO, a Dominican and Inquisitor._
_MAURICE_ = _ZULIMEZ, the faithful attendant on Alvar._
_FERDINAND_ = _ISIDORE, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a
Christian._
_NAOMI_ = _NAOMI._
_MARIA_ = _DOÑA TERESA, an Orphan Heiress._
_ALHADRA, wife
of FERDINAND_ = _ALHADRA, Wife of Isidore._
_FAMILIARS OF THE INQUISITION._
_MOORS, SERVANTS, &C._
_Time. The reign of Philip II., just at the close of the civil wars
against the Moors, and during the heat of the persecution which raged
against them, shortly after the edict which forbad the wearing of
Moresco apparel under pain of death._
FOOTNOTES:
[518:1] First published in 1873 by Mr. John Pearson (under the
editorship of R. H. Shepherd): included in _P. and D. W._ 1877-80, and
in _P. W._ 1893.
Four MSS. are (or were) extant, (1) the transcript of the play as sent
to Sheridan in 1797 (_MS. I_); (2) a contemporary transcript sent by
Coleridge to a friend (_MS. II_); (3) a third transcript (the
handwriting of a 'legal character') sold at Christie's, March 8, 1895
(_MS. III_); (4) a copy of Act I in Coleridge's handwriting, which
formerly belonged to Thomas Poole, and is now in the British Museum
(_MS. P._). The text of the present issue follows MS. I. The variants
are derived from MSS. I, II as noted by J. Dykes Campbell in _P. W._
1893, from a MS. collation (by J. D. Campbell) of MS. III, now published
for the first time, and from a fresh collation of MS. P.
_Osorio_ was begun at Stowey in March, 1797. Two and a half Acts were
written before June, four and a half Acts before September 13, 1797. A
transcript of the play (_MS. I_) was sent to Drury Lane in October, and
rejected, on the score of the 'obscurity of the last three acts', on or
about December 1, 1797. See 'Art.' Coleridge, _Osorio_ and _Remorse_, by
J. D. Campbell, _Athenaeum_, April 8, 1890.
In the reign of Philip II shortly after the civil war against the Moors,
and during the heat of the Persecution which raged against them. Maria
an orphan of fortune had been espoused to Albert the eldest son of Lord
Velez, but he having been supposed dead, is now addressed by Osorio the
brother of Albert.
In the character of Osorio I wished to represent a man, who, from his
childhood had mistaken constitutional abstinence from vices, for
strength of character--thro' his pride duped into guilt, and then
endeavouring to shield himself from the reproaches of his own mind by
misanthropy.
Don Garcia (supposed dead) and Valdez father of Don Ordoño, and Guardian
of Teresa di Monviedro. Don Garcia eldest son of the Marquis di Valdez,
supposed dead, having been six years absent, and for the last three
without any tidings of him.
Teresa Senñora [_sic_] di Monviedro, an orphan lady, bequeathed by both
Parents on their death-bed to the wardship of the Marquis, and betrothed
to Don Garcia--Gulinaez a Moorish Chieftain and ostensibly a new
Christian--Alhadra his wife. _MS. III._
For the Preface of _MS. I_, vide Appendices of this edition.
LINENOTES:
_Osorio A Tragedy_--Title] Osorio, a Dramatic Poem MS. II: Osorio, The
Sketch of a Tragedy MS. III.
ACT THE FIRST[519:1]
SCENE--_The sea shore on the coast of Granada._
_VELEZ, MARIA._
_Maria._ I hold Osorio dear: he is your son,
And Albert's brother.
_Velez._ Love him for himself,
Nor make the living wretched for the dead.
_Maria._ I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Velez!
But Heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain 5
Faithful to Albert, be he dead or living.
_Velez._ Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves;
And could my heart's blood give him back to thee
I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts!
Thy dying father comes upon my soul 10
With that same look, with which he gave thee to me:
I held thee in mine arms, a powerless babe,
While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty
Fix'd her faint eyes on mine: ah, not for this,
That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom, 15
And with slow anguish wear away thy life,
The victim of a useless constancy.
I must not see thee wretched.
_Maria._ There are woes
Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy!
If it be wretched with an untired eye 20
To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean;
Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock,
My hair dishevell'd by the pleasant sea-breeze,
To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again
All past hours of delight; if it be wretched 25
To watch some bark, and fancy Albert there;
To go through each minutest circumstance
Of the bless'd meeting, and to frame adventures
Most terrible and strange, and hear _him_ tell them:
(As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid, 30
Who dress'd her in her buried lover's cloaths,
And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft
Hung with her lute, and play'd the selfsame tune
He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow
Herself had made); if this be wretchedness, 35
And if indeed it be a wretched thing
To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine
That I had died--died, just ere his return;
Then see him listening to my constancy;
And hover round, as he at midnight ever 40
Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon;
Or haply in some more fantastic mood
To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers
Build up a bower where he and I might dwell,
And there to wait his coming! O my sire! 45
My Albert's sire! if this be wretchedness
That eats away the life, what were it, think you,
If in a most assur'd reality
He should return, and see a brother's infant
Smile at him from _my_ arms? [_Clasping her forehead._
O what a thought! 50
'Twas horrible! it pass'd my brain like lightning.
_Velez._ 'Twere horrible, if but one doubt remain'd
The very week he promised his return.
_Maria._ Ah, what a busy joy was ours--to see him
After his three years' travels! tho' that absence 55
His still-expected, never-failing letters
Almost endear'd to me! Even then what tumult!
_Velez._ O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts
Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless!
Yes, I am old--I have no pleasant dreams-- 60
Hectic and unrefresh'd with rest.
_Maria (with great tenderness)._ My father!
_Velez._ Aye, 'twas the morning thou didst try to cheer me
With a fond gaiety. My heart was bursting,
And yet I could not tell me, how my sleep
Was throng'd with swarthy faces, and I saw 65
The merchant-ship in which my son was captured--
Well, well, enough--captured in sight of land--
We might almost have seen it from our house-top!
_Maria (abruptly)._ He did not perish there!
_Velez (impatiently)._ Nay, nay--how aptly thou forgett'st a tale 70
Thou ne'er didst wish to learn--my brave Osorio
Saw them both founder in the storm that parted
Him and the pirate: both the vessels founder'd.
Gallant Osorio! [_Pauses, then tenderly._
O belov'd Maria,
Would'st thou best prove thy faith to generous Albert 75
And most delight his spirit, go and make
His brother happy, make his agéd father
Sink to the grave with joy!
_Maria._ For mercy's sake
Press me no more. I have no power to love him!
His proud forbidding eye, and his dark brow 80
Chill me, like dew-damps of the unwholesome night.
My love, a timorous and tender flower,
Closes beneath his touch.
_Velez._ You wrong him, maiden.
You wrong him, by my soul! Nor was it well
To character by such unkindly phrases 85
The stir and workings of that love for you
Which he has toil'd to smother. 'Twas not well--
Nor is it grateful in you to forget
His wounds and perilous voyages, and how
With an heroic fearlessness of danger 90
He roamed the coast of Afric for your Albert.
It was not well--you have moved me even to tears.
_Maria._ O pardon me, my father! pardon me.
It was a foolish and ungrateful speech,
A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried 95
Beyond myself, if I but dream of one
Who aims to rival Albert. Were we not
Born on one day, like twins of the same parent?
Nursed in one cradle? Pardon me, my father!
A six years' absence is an heavy thing; 100
Yet still the hope survives----
_Velez (looking forwards)._ Hush--hush! Maria.
_Maria._ It is Francesco, our Inquisitor;
That busy man, gross, ignorant, and cruel!
_Enter FRANCESCO and ALHADRA._
_Francesco (to Velez)._ Where is your son, my lord? Oh! here he
comes.
_Enter OSORIO._
My Lord Osorio! this Moresco woman 105
(Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.
_Osorio._ Hail, reverend father! What may be the business?
_Francesco._ O the old business--a Mohammedan!
The officers are in her husband's house,
And would have taken him, but that he mention'd 110
Your name, asserting that you were his friend,
Aye, and would warrant him a Catholic.
But I know well these children of perdition,
And all their idle fals[e]hoods to gain time;
So should have made the officers proceed, 115
But that this woman with most passionate outcries,
(Kneeling and holding forth her infants to me)
So work'd upon me, who (you know, my lord!)
Have human frailties, and am tender-hearted,
That I came with her.
_Osorio._ You are merciful. [_Looking at ALHADRA._ 120
I would that I could serve you; but in truth
Your face is new to me.
[_ALHADRA is about to speak, but is interrupted by_
_Francesco._ Aye, aye--I thought so;
And so I said to one of the familiars.
A likely story, said I, that Osorio,
The gallant nobleman, who fought so bravely 125
Some four years past against these rebel Moors;
Working so hard from out the garden of faith
To eradicate these weeds detestable;
That he should countenance this vile Moresco,
Nay, be his friend--and warrant him, forsooth! 130
Well, well, my lord! it is a warning to me;
Now I return.
_Alhadra._ My lord, my husband's name
Is Ferdinand: you may remember it.
Three years ago--three years this very week--
You left him at Almeria.
_Francesco (triumphantly)._ Palpably false! 135
This very week, three years ago, my lord!
(You needs must recollect it by your wound)
You were at sea, and fought the Moorish fiends
Who took and murder'd your poor brother Albert.
[_MARIA looks at FRANCESCO with disgust and horror.
OSORIO'S appearance to be collected from the
speech that follows._
_Francesco (to Velez and pointing to Osorio)._ What? is he ill, my
lord? How strange he looks! 140
_Velez (angrily)._ You started on him too abruptly, father!
The fate of one, on whom you know he doted.
_Osorio (starting as in a sudden agitation)._ O heavens! _I_
doted! [_Then, as if recovering himself._
Yes! I DOTED on him!
[_OSORIO walks to the end of the stage.
VELEZ follows soothing him._
_Maria (her eye following them)._ I do not, cannot love him. Is my
heart hard?
Is my heart hard? that even now the thought 145
Should force itself upon me--yet I feel it!
_Francesco._ The drops did start and stand upon his forehead!
I will return--in very truth I grieve
To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!
_Alhadra (to Maria)._ O gentle lady, make the father stay 150
Till that my lord recover. I am sure
That he will say he is my husband's friend.
_Maria._ Stay, father, stay--my lord will soon recover.
[_OSORIO and VELEZ returning._
_Osorio (to Velez as they return)._ Strange! that this Francesco
Should have the power so to distemper me. 155
_Velez._ Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son!
_Francesco (to Osorio)._ My lord, I truly grieve----
_Osorio._ Tut! name it
not.
A sudden seizure, father! think not of it.
As to this woman's husband, I _do_ know him:
I know him well, and that he is a Christian. 160
_Francesco._ I hope, my lord, your sensibility
Doth not prevail.
_Osorio._ Nay, nay--you know me better.
You hear what I have said. But 'tis a trifle.
I had something here of more importance.
[_Touching his forehead as if in the act of recollection._
Hah!
The Count Mondejar, our great general, 165
Writes, that the bishop we were talking of
Has sicken'd dangerously.
_Francesco._ Even so.
_Osorio._ I must return my answer.
_Francesco._ When, my lord?
_Osorio._ To-morrow morning, and shall not forget
How bright and strong your zeal for the Catholic faith. 170
_Francesco._ You are too kind, my lord! You overwhelm me.
_Osorio._ Nay, say not so. As for this Ferdinand,
'Tis certain that he _was_ a Catholic.
What changes may have happen'd in three years,
I cannot say, but grant me this, good father! 175
I'll go and sift him: if I find him sound,
You'll grant me your authority and name
To liberate his house.
_Francesco._ My lord you have it.
_Osorio (to Alhadra)._ I will attend you home within an hour.
Meantime return with us, and take refreshment. 180
_Alhadra._ Not till my husband's free, I may not do it.
I will stay here.
_Maria (aside)._ Who is this Ferdinand?
_Velez._ Daughter!
_Maria._ With your permission, my dear lord,
I'll loiter a few minutes, and then join you.
[_Exeunt VELEZ, FRANCESCO, and OSORIO._
_Alhadra._ Hah! there he goes. A bitter curse go with him. 185
A scathing curse! [_ALHADRA had been betrayed by the warmth
of her feelings into an imprudence.
She checks herself, yet recollecting
MARIA'S manner towards FRANCESCO,
says in a shy and distrustful
manner_
You hate him, don't you, lady!
_Maria._ Nay, fear me not! my heart is sad for you.
_Alhadra._ These fell Inquisitors, these sons of blood!
As I came on, his face so madden'd me
That ever and anon I clutch'd my dagger 190
And half unsheathed it.
_Maria._ Be more calm, I pray you.
_Alhadra._ And as he stalk'd along the narrow path
Close on the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager.
'Twas with hard toil I made myself remember
That his foul officers held my babes and husband. 195
To have leapt upon him with a Tyger's plunge
And hurl'd him down the ragged precipice,
O--it had been most sweet!
_Maria._ Hush, hush! for shame.
Where is your woman's heart?
_Alhadra._ O gentle lady!
You have no skill to guess my many wrongs, 200
Many and strange. Besides I am a Christian,
And they do never pardon, 'tis their faith!
_Maria._ Shame fall on those who so have shown it to thee!
_Alhadra._ I know that man; 'tis well he knows not me!
Five years ago, and he was the prime agent. 205
Five years ago the Holy Brethren seized me.
_Maria._ What might your crime be?
_Alhadra._ Solely my complexion.
They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,
Into a dungeon of their prison house.
There was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, 210
No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,
It was a toil to breathe it! I have seen
The gaoler's lamp, the moment that he enter'd,
How the flame sunk at once down to the socket.
O miserable, by that lamp to see 215
My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread
Brought daily: for the little wretch was sickly--
My rage had dry'd away its natural food!
In darkness I remain'd, counting the clocks[528:1]
Which haply told me that the blessed sun 220
Was rising on my garden. When I dozed,
My infant's moanings mingled with my dreams
And wak'd me. If you were a mother, Lady,
I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises
And peevish cries so fretted on my brain 225
That I have struck the innocent babe in anger!
_Maria._ O God! it is too horrible to hear!
_Alhadra._ What was it then to suffer? 'Tis most right
That such as you should hear it. Know you not
What Nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal? 230
Great evils ask great passions to redress them,
And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.
_Maria._ You were at length deliver'd?
_Alhadra._ Yes, at length
I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven.
'Twas the first time my infant smiled! No more. 235
For if I dwell upon that moment, lady,
A fit comes on, which makes me o'er again
All I then was, my knees hang loose and drag,
And my lip falls with such an ideot laugh
That you would start and shudder!
_Maria._ But your husband? 240
_Alhadra._ A month's imprisonment would kill him, lady!
_Maria._ Alas, poor man!
_Alhadra._ He hath a lion's courage,
But is not stern enough for fortitude.
Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart
He worships Nature in the hill and valley, 245
Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all!
[_Enter ALBERT disguised as a Moresco, and in
Moorish garments._
_Albert (not observing Maria and Alhadra)._ Three weeks have I been
loitering here, nor ever
Have summon'd up my heart to ask one question,
Or stop one peasant passing on this way.
_Maria._ Know you that man?
_Alhadra._ His person, not his name. 250
I doubt not, he is some Moresco chieftain
Who hides himself among the Alpuxarras.
A week has scarcely pass'd since first I saw him;
He has new-roof'd the desolate old cottage
Where Zagri lived--who dared avow the prophet 255
And died like one of the faithful! There he lives,
And a friend with him.
_Maria._ Does he know his danger
So near this seat?
_Alhadra._ He wears the Moorish robes too,
As in defiance of the royal edict.
[_ALHADRA advances to ALBERT, who has walked to the
back of the stage near the rocks. MARIA drops
her veil._
_Alhadra._ Gallant Moresco! you are near the castle 260
Of the Lord Velez, and hard by does dwell
A priest, the creature of the Inquisition.
_Albert (retiring)._ You have mistaken me--I am a Christian.
_Alhadra (to Maria)._ He deems that we are plotting to ensnare him.
Speak to him, lady! none can hear you speak 265
And not believe you innocent of guile.
[_ALBERT, on hearing this, pauses and turns round._
_Maria._ If aught enforce you to concealment, sir!
_Alhadra._ He trembles strangely.
[_ALBERT sinks down and hides his face in his garment_
[_robe_ Remorse].
_Maria._ See--we have disturb'd him.
[_Approaches nearer to him._
I pray you, think us friends--uncowl your face,
For you seem faint, and the night-breeze blows healing. 270
I pray you, think us friends!
_Albert (raising his head)._ Calm--very calm;
'Tis all too tranquil for reality!
And she spoke to me with her innocent voice.
That voice! that innocent voice! She is no traitress!
It was a dream, a phantom of my sleep, 275
A lying dream. [_He starts up, and abruptly addresses her._
Maria! you are not wedded?
_Maria (haughtily to Alhadra)._ Let us retire.
[_They advance to the front of the stage._
_Alhadra._ He is indeed a
Christian.
Some stray Sir Knight, that falls in love of a sudden.
_Maria._ What can this mean? How should he know my name?
It seems all shadowy.
_Alhadra._ Here he comes again. 280
_Albert (aside)._ She deems me dead, and yet no mourning garment!
Why should my brother's wife wear mourning garments?
God of all mercy, make me, make me quiet! [_To MARIA._
Your pardon, gentle maid! that I disturb'd you.
I had just started from a frightful dream. 285
_Alhadra._ These renegado Moors--how soon they learn
The crimes and follies of their Christian tyrants!
_Albert._ I dreamt I had a friend, on whom I lean'd
With blindest trust, and a betrothéd maid
Whom I was wont to call not mine, but me, 290
For mine own self seem'd nothing, lacking her!
This maid so idoliz'd, that trusted friend,
Polluted in my absence soul and body!
And she with him and he with her conspired
To have me murder'd in a wood of the mountains: 295
But by my looks and most impassion'd words
I roused the virtues, that are dead in no man,
Even in the assassins' hearts. They made their terms,
And thank'd me for redeeming them from murder.
_Alhadra (to Maria)._ You are lost in thought. Hear him no more,
sweet lady! 300
_Maria._ From morn to night I am myself a dreamer,
And slight things bring on me the idle mood.
Well, sir, what happen'd then?
_Albert._ On a rude rock,
A rock, methought, fast by a grove of firs
Whose threaddy leaves to the low breathing gale 305
Made a soft sound most like the distant ocean,
I stay'd as tho' the hour of death were past,
And I were sitting in the world of spirits,
For all things seem'd unreal! There I sate.
The dews fell clammy, and the night descended, 310
Black, sultry, close! and ere the midnight hour
A storm came on, mingling all sounds of fear
That woods and sky and mountains seem'd one havock!
The second flash of lightning show'd a tree
Hard by me, newly-scathed. I rose tumultuous: 315
My soul work'd high: I bared my head to the storm,
And with loud voice and clamorous agony
Kneeling I pray'd to the great Spirit that made me,
Pray'd that Remorse might fasten on their hearts,
And cling, with poisonous tooth, inextricable 320
As the gored lion's bite!
_Maria._ A fearful curse!
_Alhadra._ But dreamt you not that you return'd and kill'd him?
Dreamt you of no revenge?
_Albert (his voice trembling, and in tones of deep distress)._ She
would have died,
Died in her sins--perchance, by her own hands!
And bending o'er her self-inflicted wounds 325
I might have met the evil glance of frenzy
And leapt myself into an unblest grave!
I pray'd for the punishment that cleanses hearts,
For still I loved her!
_Alhadra._ And you dreamt all this?
_Maria._ My soul is full of visions, all is wild! 330
_Alhadra._ There is no room in this heart for puling love-tales.
Lady! your servants there seem seeking us.
_Maria (lifts up her veil and advances to Albert)._ Stranger,
farewell! I guess not who you are,
Nor why you so address'd your tale to me.
Your mien is noble, and, I own, perplex'd me 335
With obscure memory of something past,
Which still escap'd my efforts, or presented
Tricks of a fancy pamper'd with long-wishing.
If (as it sometimes happens) our rude startling,
While your full heart was shaping out its dream, 340
Drove you to this, your not ungentle wildness,
You have my sympathy, and so farewell!
But if some undiscover'd wrongs oppress you,
And you need strength to drag them into light,
The generous Velez, and my Lord Osorio 345
Have arm and will to aid a noble sufferer,
Nor shall you want my favourable pleading.
[_Exeunt MARIA and ALHADRA._
_Albert (alone)._ 'Tis strange! it cannot be! my Lord Osorio!
Her Lord Osorio! Nay, I will not do it.
I curs'd him once, and one curse is enough. 350
How sad she look'd and pale! but not like guilt,
And her calm tones--sweet as a song of mercy!
If the bad spirit retain'd his angel's voice,
Hell scarce were hell. And why not innocent?
Who meant to murder me might well cheat her. 355
But ere she married him, he had stain'd her honour.
Ah! there I am hamper'd. What if this were a lie
Fram'd by the assassin? who should tell it him
If it were truth? Osorio would not tell him.
Yet why one lie? All else, I know, was truth. 360
No start! no jealousy of stirring conscience!
And she referr'd to me--fondly, methought!
Could she walk here, if that she were a traitress?
Here where we play'd together in our childhood?
Here where we plighted vows? Where her cold cheek 365
Received my last kiss, when with suppress'd feelings
She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be!
'Tis not in nature! I will die, believing
That I shall meet her where no evil is,
No treachery, no cup dash'd from the lips! 370
I'll haunt this scene no more--live she in peace!
Her husband--ay, her husband! May this Angel
New-mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, Heaven!
That I may pray for my poor guilty brother!
END OF ACT THE FIRST.
FOOTNOTES:
[519:1] For Act I, Scene 1 (ll. 1-118) of _Remorse_, vide _post_, pp.
820-3.
[528:1] With lines 219-21 compare _Fragments from a Notebook_, No. 17,
p. 990.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1] ACT THE FIRST (The Portrait and the Picture). Corr. in MS.
III.
Scene--_The sea shore, &c._] Scene--The Sea shore on the coast of
Granada, in the Seigniory of the Marquis Valdez. _Valdez_ _Teresa_ corr.
in MS. III. [For _Velez_, _Maria_, _Osorio_, _Albert_, _Francesco_, read
_Valdez_, _Teresa_, _Ordonio_, _Alvar_, _Isidore_ throughout, Remorse.
[Before 1] SCENE II. _Enter_ Teresa _and_ Valdez. Remorse. Osorio]
Ordoño] corr. in MS. II.
[2] Albert's] Garcia's corr. in MS. III.
[12] mine] my Remorse, 1813.
[29] _him_] him Remorse.
[40] Or hover round, as he at midnight oft Remorse.
[50] _my_] my Remorse. Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[51-2] _Erased MS. III._
[52-3]
_Valdez._ A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought.
The very week he promised his return--
Remorse.
an empty thought
That boasts no neighbourhood with Hope or Reason
Corr. in MS. III.
[54-7]
_Ter._ Was it not then a busy joy? to see him,
After those three years' travels! we had no fears--
The frequent tidings, the ne'er failing letter,
Almost endeared his absence! yet the gladness,
The tumult of our joy! What then, if now--
Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.
[60] dreams] fancies Remorse.
[61] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[62-8] Erased MS. III.
[62-73]
_Vald._ The sober truth is all too much for me!
I see no sail which brings not to my mind
The home-bound bark, in which my son was captured
By the Algerine--to perish with his captors!
_Ter._ Oh no! he did not!
_Vald._ Captured in sight of land!
From yon Hill-point, nay, from our castle watch-tower
We might have seen--
_Ter._ His capture, not his death.
_Vald._ Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale
Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio
Saw both the pirate and his prize go down,
In the same storm that baffled his own valour,
And thus twice snatched a brother from his hopes.
Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.
[74] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[76] And most delight his spirit, go, make thou Remorse.
[78] with] in Remorse.
[93] my father] Lord Valdez Remorse.
[96] dream] hear Remorse.
[101-5] Erased MS. III.
_Vald. (looking forward)._ Hush! 'tis Monviedro.
_Ter._ The Inquisitor--on what new scent of blood?
_Enter_ Monviedro _with_ Alhadra.
_Mon._ Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord.
My present need is with your son.
We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, 'tis he.
_Enter from the opposite side_ Don Ordonio
My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman
MS. III, Remorse.
[108] Erased MS. III.
[109] The] Our MS. III.
[108-31]
_Mon._ My lord, on strong suspicion of relapse
To his false creed, so recently abjured,
The secret servants of the Inquisition
Have seized her husband, and at my command
To the supreme tribunal would have led him,
But that he made appeal to you, my lord,
As surety for his soundness in the faith.
Tho' lesson'd by experience what small trust
The asseverations of these Moors deserve,
Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name,
Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honour
The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers,
Thus far prevailed with me that--
_Ord._ Reverend father,
I am much beholden to your high opinion,
Which so o'erprizes my light services. [_then to Alhadra_
I would that I could serve you; but in truth
Your face is new to me.
_Mon._ My mind foretold me
That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez,
'Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio,
That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely
Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors,
Should prove the patron of this infidel!
The warranter of a Moresco's faith!
Remorse.
[114] Have learnt by heart their falsehoods to gain time. Corr. in MS.
III.
[118-20] who (you know, &c., . . . with her Erased MS. III. The
stage-direction (_Alhadra here advances towards Ordonio_) is inserted at
the end of Francesco's speech.
[127-8] om. MS. III.
[133] Is Isidore. (_Ordonio starts_) Remorse.
[135] Stage-direction (_triumphantly_) om. Remorse.
[138-9]
You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates,
The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!
Remorse.
[139] The stage-direction _Maria looks, &c._, om. Remorse.
[140] _Francesco (. . . Osorio)_ om. Remorse.
[141] _Val._ You pressed upon him too abruptly father Remorse.
[143] _Ord._ O heavens! I?--I doted?-- Remorse. Stage-directions
(_starting, &c._), (_Then, as, &c._) om. Remorse.
[Before 144] stage direction ends at '_follows_' Remorse.
[144] Stage-direction (_her eye, &c._) om. Remorse.
[151] Till that] Until Remorse.
Stage-direction before 154 om. Remorse.
[154] Ordonio (_as they return to Valdez_). Remorse.
[157] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[159] _do_] do Remorse.
[161] I hope, my lord, your merely human pity MS. III, Remorse.
[162-72] Nay, nay . . . Ferdinand om. Remorse.
[173] _was_] was Remorse.
[176] Myself I'll sift him Remorse.
[178] [_Francesco's speech_ 'My lord you have it' _is thus
expanded_]:--
_Monviedro._ Your zeal, my lord,
And your late merits in this holy warfare
Would authorize an ampler trust--you have it.
Remorse.
[179] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[180] Attributed to Valdez in Remorse.
[184] I'll loiter yet awhile t'enjoy the sea breeze. Remorse.
[186] The stage-direction, _Alhadra had been, &c._, was interpolated by
_S. T. C._ in MS. III, and 'distrustful' is written 'mistrustful'. It is
omitted in Remorse.
[187] The line was originally written:--
Nay, nay, not hate him. I try not to do it;
and in this form it stands in the Poole MS. MSS. II, III have the line
as amended, but have also this stage-direction '(_perceiving that
Alhadra is conscious she has spoken imprudently_)'; and MS. II has the
word _me_ underlined.
Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you
Remorse.
[188] In Poole MS. this line was originally--
These wolfish Priests! these lappers-up of Blood.
[192] stalk'd] walk'd Remorse.
[193] on] by Remorse.
[195] Interpolated by S. T. C.
That his vile Slaves, his pitiless officers
Held in their custody my babes and husband.
MS. III.
[195] foul officers] familiars Remorse.
[197] ragged] rugged Remorse.
[201] '(_ironically_)' only in MS. II.
[202] And they do] And Christians Remorse.
[207] Solely my complexion] I was a Moresco Remorse.
[210] There] Where Remorse.
[212-14]
It was a toil to breathe it! When the door,
Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed
One human countenance, the lamp's red flame
Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down
Remorse.
[219] the dull bell counting Remorse.
[220] blessed] all-cheering. Remorse.
[221] my] our Remorse.
[222] dreams] slumbers Remorse.
[227] God] Heaven Remorse.
[233] deliver'd] released Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[237] fit] trance Remorse.
[243] Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance Corr. in MS. III,
Remorse.
[247-9] MS. III erased: om. Remorse.
[Between 249-50]
_Teresa. (starting)._ This sure must be the man (_to ALHADRA_)
Know you that man?
Corr. in MS. III.
[Between 250 and 263]
_Ter._ Know you that stately Moor?
_Alhad._ I know him not:
But doubt not he is some Moresco chieftain,
Who hides himself among the Alpujarras.
_Ter._ The Alpujarras? Does he know his danger,
So near this seat?
_Alhad._ He wears the Moorish robes too,
As in defiance of the royal edict.
[_ALHADRA advances to ALVAR, who has walked to the
back of the stage near the rocks. TERESA
drops her veil._
_Alhad._ Gallant Moresco! An inquisitor,
Monviedro, of known hatred to our race--
Remorse.
[254-7]
His ends, his motives, why he shrinks from notice
And spurns all commune with the Moorish chieftain,
Baffles conjecture--
Corr. in MS. III.
Before stage-direction affixed to 259.
_Teresa._ Ask of him whence he came? if he bear tidings
Of any Christian Captive--if he knows--
Corr. in MS. III.
[259] _Philip the Second had forbidden under pain of death the Moorish
Robes_ MS. II: _Phillip (sic) the Second had prohibited under pain of
death all the Moorish customs and garments_ MS. III.
[262] the creature] a brother Corr. in MS. III.
[263] _Albert (retiring)_] _advancing as if to pass them_ Corr. in MS.
III. Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[264] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[266] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[275-6] om. Remorse.
[277] Stage-direction _They advance . . . followed by Alvar_ Corr. in
MS. III: om. Remorse.
[277] _Alhadra (with bitter scorn)._ Corr. in MS. III.
[278-80] om. Remorse.
[Prefixed to 279.] _Alhadra walks away to the back of the stage, to the
part where Alvar had first placed himself, stoops in the act of taking
up a small Picture, looks at it and in dumb show appears as talking to
herself._ Corr. in MS. III.
[279-80]
_Maria._ This cannot be the Moor the Peasant spoke of
Nor face, nor stature squares with his description.
_Alhadra._ A painted tablet which he held and por'd on
Caught my eye strangely, and as I disturb'd him
He hid it hastily within his sash,
Yet when he started up (if my sight err'd not)
It slipt unnotic'd by him on the Sand.
Corr. in MS. III.
[281] She deems me dead yet wears no mourning garments Remorse.
[283] om. Remorse.
[284] gentle maid] noble dame Remorse.
[286-7] om. Remorse.
[Between 285 and 288]
_Ter._ Dreams tell but of the past, and yet, 'tis said
They prophesy--
_Alv._ The Past lives o'er again
In its effects, and to the guilty spirit,
The ever frowning [guilty _MS. III_] Present is its image.
_Ter._ Traitress! [guilty _MS. III_] (_then aside_)
What sudden spell o'er-masters me?
Why seeks he me, shunning the Moorish woman.
Corr. in MS. III: Remorse.
[293] Polluted] Dishonour'd MS. III, Remorse. [In MS. III S. T. C.
substituted 'Polluted' for 'Dishonoured.']
[294-5]
Fear, following guilt, tempted to blacker guilt,
And murderers were suborned against my life
Remorse.
[Affixed to 296] _During this speech Alhadra returns, and unobserved by
Alvar and Teresa scans the picture, and in dumb show compares it with
the countenance of Alvar. Then conceals it in her robe._ MS. III.
[300] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[305] threaddy] thready Remorse.
[322] him] them Remorse.
[323] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[324] sins] guilt Remorse.
[330] all is] all as MS. III, Remorse.
[332] MS. III erased.
[332 foll.]
ALHADRA (_aside_).
I must reserve all knowledge of this Table
Till I can pierce the mystery of the slander--
Form, Look, Features,--the scar below the Temple
All, all are Isidore's--and the whole Picture-- (_then to ALVAR._)
On matter of concerning Import . .
. . . I would discourse with you:
Thou hast ta'en up thy sojourn in the Dell,
Where Zagri liv'd--who dar'd avow the Prophet,
And died like one of the Faithful--there expect me.
Addition on margin of MS. III.
[332] om. Remorse.
[340] While] Whilst Remorse.
[359] Interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
[363] Could she walk here, if she had been a traitress Remorse.
ACT THE SECOND
SCENE THE FIRST.--_A wild and mountainous country. OSORIO and FERDINAND
are discovered at a little distance from a house, which stands under the
brow of a slate rock, the rock covered with vines._
_FERDINAND and OSORIO._
_Ferdinand._ Thrice you have sav'd my life. Once in the battle
You gave it me, next rescued me from suicide,
When for my follies I was made to wander
With mouths to feed, and not a morsel for them.
Now, but for you, a dungeon's slimy stones 5
Had pillow'd my snapt joints.
_Osorio._ Good Ferdinand!
Why this to me? It is enough you know it.
_Ferdinand._ A common trick of gratitude, my lord!
Seeking to ease her own full heart.
_Osorio._ Enough.
A debt repay'd ceases to be a debt. 10
You have it in your power to serve me greatly.
_Ferdinand._ As how, my lord? I pray you name the thing!
I would climb up an ice-glaz'd precipice
To pluck a weed you fancied.
_Osorio (with embarrassment and hesitation)._ Why--that--lady--
_Ferdinand._ 'Tis now three years, my lord! since last I saw you. 15
Have you a son, my lord?
_Osorio._ O miserable! [_Aside._
Ferdinand! you are a man, and know this world.
I told you what I wish'd--now for the truth!
She lov'd the man you kill'd!
_Ferdinand (looking as suddenly alarmed)._ You jest, my lord?
_Osorio._ And till his death is proved, she will not wed me. 20
_Ferdinand._ You sport with me, my lord?
_Osorio._ Come, come, this foolery
Lives only in thy looks--thy heart disowns it.
_Ferdinand._ I can bear this, and anything more grievous
From you, my lord!--but how can I serve you here?
_Osorio._ Why, you can mouth set speeches solemnly, 25
Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics.
[_Ferdinand._ I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.
_Osorio._ In blunt terms] you can play the sorcerer.
She has no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true.
Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense: 30
Yet still a tale of spirits works on her.
She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,
Shivers, and cannot keep the tears in her eye.
Such ones do love the marvellous too well
Not to believe it. We will wind her up 35
With a strange music, that she knows not of,
With fumes of frankincense, and mummery--
Then leave, as one sure token of his death,
That portrait, which from off the dead man's neck
I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest. 40
_Ferdinand (with hesitation)._ Just now I should have cursed the
man who told me
You could ask aught, my lord! and I refuse.
But this I cannot do.
_Osorio._ Where lies your scruple?
_Ferdinand._ That shark Francesco.
_Osorio._ O! an o'ersiz'd gudgeon!
I baited, sir, my hook with a painted mitre, 45
And now I play with him at the end of the line.
Well--and what next?
_Ferdinand (stammering)._ Next, next--my lord!
You know you told me that the lady loved you,
Had loved you with incautious tenderness.
That if the young man, her betrothéd husband, 50
Return'd, yourself, and she, and an unborn babe,
Must perish. Now, my lord! to be a man!
_Osorio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the
third person)._ This fellow is a man! he kill'd for hire
One whom he knew not--yet has tender scruples.
[_Then turning to FERDINAND._
Thy hums and ha's, thy whine and stammering. 55
Pish--fool! thou blunder'st through the devil's book,
Spelling thy villany!
_Ferdinand._ My lord--my lord!
I can bear much, yes, very much from you.
But there's a point where sufferance is meanness!
I am no villain, never kill'd for hire. 60
My gratitude----
_Osorio._ O! aye, your gratitude!
'Twas a well-sounding word--what have you done with it?
_Ferdinand._ Who proffers his past favours for my virtue
Tries to o'erreach me, is a very sharper,
And should not speak of gratitude, my lord! 65
I knew not 'twas your brother!
_Osorio (evidently alarmed)._ And who told you?
_Ferdinand._ He himself told me.
_Osorio._ Ha! you talk'd with him?
And those, the two Morescoes, that went with you?
_Ferdinand._ Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.
_Osorio (in a low voice)._ My brother!
_Ferdinand._ Yes, my lord! I could not
tell you: 70
I thrust away the thought, it drove me wild.
But listen to me now. I pray you, listen!
_Osorio._ Villain! no more! I'll hear no more of it.
_Ferdinand._ My lord! it much imports your future safety
That you should hear it.
_Osorio (turning off from Ferdinand)._ Am I not a man? 75
'Tis as it should be! Tut--the deed itself
Was idle--and these after-pangs still idler!
_Ferdinand._ We met him in the very place you mention'd,
Hard by a grove of firs.
_Osorio._ Enough! enough!
_Ferdinand._ He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; 80
In fine, compell'd a parley!
_Osorio (sighing as if lost in thought)._ Albert! Brother!
_Ferdinand._ He offer'd me his purse.
_Osorio._ Yes?
_Ferdinand._ Yes! I spurn'd it.
He promis'd us I know not what--in vain!
Then with a look and voice which overaw'd me,
He said--What mean you, friends? My life is dear. 85
I have a brother and a promised wife
Who make life dear to me, and if I fall
That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance.
There was a likeness in his face to yours.
I ask'd his brother's name; he said, Osorio, 90
Son of Lord Velez! I had well-nigh fainted!
At length I said (if that indeed I said it,
And that no spirit made my tongue his organ),
That woman is now pregnant by that brother,
And he the man who sent us to destroy you, 95
He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him,
He wore her portrait round his neck--he look'd
As he had been made of the rock that propp'd him back;
Ay, just as you look now--only less ghastly!
At last recovering from his trance, he threw 100
His sword away, and bade us take his life--
It was not worth his keeping.
_Osorio._ And you kill'd him?
O blood-hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!
He was the image of the Deity. [_A pause._
It seizes me--by Hell! I will go on! 105
What? would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee!
[_Then suddenly pressing his forehead._
Oh! cold, cold, cold--shot thro' with icy cold!
_Ferdinand (aside)._ Were he alive, he had return'd ere now.
The consequence the same, dead thro' his plotting!
_Osorio._ O this unutterable dying away here, 110
This sickness of the heart! [_A pause._
What if I went
And liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?
Ay! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool! [_A pause._
What have I done but that which nature destin'd
Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me? 115
If good were meant, why were we made these beings?
And if not meant----
_Ferdinand._ How feel you now, my lord?
[_OSORIO starts, looks at him wildly, then, after a
pause, during which his features are forced
into a smile._
_Osorio._ A gust of the soul! i'faith, it overset me.
O 'twas all folly--all! idle as laughter!
Now, Ferdinand, I swear that thou shalt aid me. 120
_Ferdinand (in a low voice)._ I'll perish first! Shame on my
coward heart,
That I must slink away from wickedness
Like a cow'd dog!
_Osorio._ What dost thou mutter of?
_Ferdinand._ Some of your servants know me, I am certain.
_Osorio._ There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you. 125
_Ferdinand._ They'll know my gait. But stay! of late I have
watch'd
A stranger that lives nigh, still picking weeds,
Now in the swamp, now on the walls of the ruin,
Now clamb'ring, like a runaway lunatic,
Up to the summit of our highest mount. 130
I have watch'd him at it morning-tide and noon,
Once in the moonlight. Then I stood so near,
I heard him mutt'ring o'er the plant. A wizard!
Some gaunt slave, prowling out for dark employments.
_Osorio._ What may his name be?
_Ferdinand._ That I cannot tell you. 135
Only Francesco bade an officer
Speak in your name, as lord of this domain.
So he was question'd, who and what he was.
This was his answer: Say to the Lord Osorio,
'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 140
_Osorio._ A strange reply!
_Ferdinand._ Aye--all of him is strange.
He call'd himself a Christian--yet he wears
The Moorish robe, as if he courted death.
_Osorio._ Where does this wizard live?
_Ferdinand (pointing to a distance)._ You see that brooklet?
Trace its course backward thro' a narrow opening 145
It leads you to the place.
_Osorio._ How shall I know it?
_Ferdinand._ You can't mistake. It is a small green dale
Built all around with high off-sloping hills,
And from its shape our peasants aptly call it
The Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst, 150
And round its banks tall wood, that branches over
And makes a kind of faery forest grow
Down in the water. At the further end
A puny cataract falls on the lake;
And there (a curious sight) you see its shadow 155
For ever curling, like a wreath of smoke,
Up through the foliage of those faery trees.
His cot stands opposite--you cannot miss it.
Some three yards up the hill a mountain ash
Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters 160
O'er the new thatch.
_Osorio._ I shall not fail to find it.
[_Exit OSORIO. FERDINAND goes into his house._
_Scene changes._
_The inside of a cottage, around which flowers and plants of various
kinds are seen._
_ALBERT and MAURICE._
_Albert._ He doth believe himself an iron soul,
And therefore puts he on an iron outward
And those same mock habiliments of strength
Hide his own weakness from himself.
_Maurice._ His weakness! 165
Come, come, speak out! Your brother is a villain!
Yet all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours
You suffer him to hold!
_Albert._ Maurice! dear Maurice!
That my return involved Osorio's death
I trust would give me an unmingl'd pang-- 170
Yet bearable. But when I see my father
Strewing his scant grey hairs even on the ground
Which soon must be his grave; and my Maria,
Her husband proved a monster, and her infants
His infants--poor Maria!--all would perish, 175
All perish--all!--and I (nay bear with me!)
Could not survive the complicated ruin!
_Maurice (much affected)._ Nay, now, if I have distress'd you--you
well know,
I ne'er will quit your fortunes! true, 'tis tiresome.
You are a painter--one of many fancies-- 180
You can call up past deeds, and make them live
On the blank canvas, and each little herb,
That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,
You've learnt to name--but _I_----
_Albert._ Well, to the Netherlands
We will return, the heroic Prince of Orange 185
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past service.
_Maurice._ Heard you not some steps?
_Albert._ What if it were my brother coming onward!
Not very wisely (but his creature teiz'd me)
I sent a most mysterious message to him. 190
_Maurice._ Would he not know you?
_Albert._ I unfearingly
Trust this disguise. Besides, he thinks me dead;
And what the mind believes impossible,
The bodily sense is slow to recognize.
Add too my youth, when last we saw each other; 195
Manhood has swell'd my chest, and taught my voice
A hoarser note.
_Maurice._ Most true! And Alva's Duke
Did not improve it by the unwholesome viands
He gave so scantily in that foul dungeon,
During our long imprisonment.
_Enter OSORIO._
_Albert._ It is he! 200
_Maurice._ Make yourself talk; you'll feel the less. Come, speak.
How do you find yourself? Speak to me, Albert.
_Albert (placing his hand on his heart)._ A little fluttering
here; but more of sorrow!
_Osorio._ You know my name, perhaps, better than me.
I am Osorio, son of the Lord Velez. 205
_Albert (groaning aloud)._ The son of Velez!
[_OSORIO walks leisurely round the room, and looks
attentively at the plants._
_Maurice._ Why, what ails you now?
[_ALBERT grasps MAURICE'S hand in agitation._
_Maurice._ How your hand trembles, Albert! Speak! what wish you?
_Albert._ To fall upon his neck and weep in anguish!
_Osorio (returning)._ All very curious! from a ruin'd abbey
Pluck'd in the moonlight. There's a strange power in weeds 210
When a few odd prayers have been mutter'd o'er them.
Then they work miracles! I warrant you,
There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurks
Some serviceable imp. There's one of you,
Who sent me a strange message.
_Albert._ I am he! 215
_Osorio._ I will speak with you, and by yourself.
[_Exit MAURICE._
_Osorio._ 'He that can bring the dead to life again.'
Such was your message, Sir! You are no dullard,
But one that strips the outward rind of things!
_Albert._ 'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds 220
That are all dust and rottenness within.
Would'st thou I should strip such?
_Osorio._ Thou quibbling fool,
What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journey'd hither
To sport with thee?
_Albert._ No, no! my lord! to sport
Best fits the gaiety of innocence! 225
_Osorio (draws back as if stung and embarrassed, then folding his
arms)._ O what a thing is Man! the wisest heart
A fool--a fool, that laughs at its own folly,
Yet still a fool! [_Looks round the cottage._
It strikes me you are poor!
_Albert._ What follows thence?
_Osorio._ That you would fain be richer.
Besides, you do not love the rack, perhaps, 230
Nor a black dungeon, nor a fire of faggots.
The Inquisition--hey? You understand me,
And you are poor. Now I have wealth and power,
Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty.
And for this service, all I ask you is 235
That you should serve me--once--for a few hours.
_Albert (solemnly)._ Thou art the son of Velez! Would to Heaven
That I could truly and for ever serve thee!
_Osorio._ The canting scoundrel softens. [_Aside._
You are my friend!
'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 240
Nay, no defence to me. The holy brethren
Believe these calumnies. I know thee better.
[_Then with great bitterness._
Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!
_Albert._ Alas, this hollow mirth! Declare your business!
_Osorio._ I love a lady, and she would love me 245
But for an idle and fantastic scruple.
Have you no servants round the house? no listeners?
[_OSORIO steps to the door._
_Albert._ What! faithless too? false to his angel wife?
To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan,
Ill-starr'd Maria! Wretch! my softer soul 250
Is pass'd away! and I will probe his conscience.
_Osorio (returned)._ In truth this lady loved another man,
But he has perish'd.
_Albert._ What? you kill'd him? hey?
_Osorio._ I'll dash thee to the earth, if thou but think'st it,
Thou slave! thou galley-slave! thou mountebank! 255
I leave thee to the hangman!
_Albert._ Fare you well!
I pity you, Osorio! even to anguish!
[_ALBERT retires off the stage._
_Osorio (recovering himself)._ 'Twas ideotcy! I'll tie myself to
an aspen,
And wear a Fool's Cap. Ho! [_Calling after ALBERT._
_Albert (returning)._ Be brief, what wish you?
_Osorio._ You are deep at bartering--you charge yourself 260
At a round sum. Come, come, I spake unwisely.
_Albert._ I listen to you.
_Osorio._ In a sudden tempest
Did Albert perish--he, I mean, the lover--
The fellow----
_Albert._ Nay, speak out, 'twill ease your heart
To call him villain! Why stand'st thou aghast? 265
Men think it natural to hate their rivals!
_Osorio (hesitating and half doubting whether he should proceed)._
Now till she knows him dead she will not wed me!
_Albert (with eager vehemence)._ Are you not wedded, then?
Merciful God!
Not wedded to Maria?
_Osorio._ Why, what ails thee?
Art mad or drunk? Why look'st thou upward so? 270
Dost pray to Lucifer, prince of the air?
_Albert._ Proceed. I shall be silent.
[_ALBERT sits, and leaning on the table hides his face._
_Osorio._ To Maria!
Politic wizard! ere you sent that message,
You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient
In all my fortunes! Hah! you prophesied 275
A golden crop!--well, you have not mistaken--
Be faithful to me, and I'll pay thee nobly.
_Albert (lifting up his head)._ Well--and this lady!
_Osorio._ If we could make her certain of his death,
She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, 280
She tied a little portrait round his neck
Entreating him to wear it.
_Albert (sighing)._ Yes! he did so!
_Osorio._ Why, no! he was afraid of accidents,
Of robberies and shipwrecks, and the like.
In secrecy he gave it me to keep 285
Till his return.
_Albert._ What, he was your friend then?
_Osorio (wounded and embarrassed)._ I was his friend.
[_A pause._
Now that he gave it me
This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard--
Can call this dead man up--he will not come-- 290
He is in heaven then!--there you have no influence--
Still there are tokens; and your imps may bring you
Something he wore about him when he died.
And when the smoke of the incense on the altar
Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. 295
What say you now?
_Albert (after a long pause)._ Osorio, I will do it.
_Osorio._ Delays are dangerous. It shall be to-morrow
In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Velez.
I will prepare him. Music, too, and incense,
All shall be ready. Here is this same picture-- 300
And here what you will value more, a purse.
Before the dusk----
_Albert._ I will not fail to meet you.
_Osorio._ Till next we meet, farewell!
_Albert (alone, gazes passionately at the portrait)._ And I did
curse thee?
At midnight? on my knees? And I believed
_Thee_ perjured, _thee_ polluted, thee a murderess? 305
O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly!
Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses,
Thy infant loves--should not thy maiden vows,
Have come upon my heart? And this sweet image
Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310
And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble.
Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant
Who spake pollutions of thee!
I am unworthy of thy love, Maria!
Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315
Which ever smil'd on me! Yet do not scorn me.
I lisp'd thy name ere I had learnt my mother's!
_Enter MAURICE._
_Albert._ Maurice! that picture, which I painted for thee,
Of my assassination.
_Maurice._ I'll go fetch it.
_Albert._ Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd. 320
[_MAURICE goes out._
_Albert (gazing at the portrait)._ Dear image! rescued from a
traitor's keeping,
I will not now prophane thee, holy image!
To a dark trick! That worst bad man shall find
A picture which shall wake the hell within him,
And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience! 325
END OF ACT THE SECOND.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1]
_A wild and mountainous Country. ORDONIO and ISIDORE are discovered,
supposed at a little distance from Isidore's house._
_Ord._ Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,
Yet we secured from listeners.
_Isid._ Now indeed
My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters
Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock
That overbrows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!
Thrice have you sav'd my life.
Remorse.
[6] Had been my bed and pillow Remorse.
[12] And how, my Lord, I pray you to name Remorse.
[14] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[17] this world] mankind Remorse.
[19] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[Between 24 and 26]
Why you can utter with a solemn gesture
Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning
Remorse.
[27-8] The words in square brackets are interpolated in MS. I. They are
in their place, as here, in MSS. II, III, and in Remorse.
[31] on] upon Remorse.
[34-5]
And such do love the marvellous too well
Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy
Remorse.
[Between 40 and 41]
_Isid._ Will that be a sure sign?
_Ord._ Beyond suspicion.
Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover,
(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.)
She whisper'd such dark fears of me forsooth,
As made this heart pour gall into my veins,
And as she coyly bound it round his neck,
She made him promise silence; and now holds
The secret of the existence of this portrait
Known only to her lover and herself.
But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them,
And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.
Remorse.
[41] _Isid._ But now, &c. Remorse.
[44-7] om. Remorse.
[47] _Isidore._ Why--why, my lord! Remorse.
[Between 50 and 53]
Return'd, yourself, and she, and the honour of both
Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruples
Than those which being native to the heart,
Than those, my lord, which merely being a man--
Remorse.
Stage-direction before 53 om. Remorse.
[55-6]
These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering--
Pish, fool! thou blund'rest through the book of guilt
Remorse.
[After 63] _Ord._ Virtue-- Remorse.
[64] _Isid._ Tries to o'erreach me, &c. Remorse.
[66] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[68] And those, the two Morescoes who were with you? Remorse.
[75] Am not I a man? Remorse.
[81] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[84] which] that Remorse.
[93] his] its Remorse.
[94] That woman is dishonoured Remorse.
[98] him] his Remorse.
[100] last] length Remorse.
[103] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[104] He was his Maker's image undefac'd Remorse.
[106] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[111] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[113] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[117] _Isidore._ You are disturb'd, my lord Remorse.
[After 117] _Ord. (starts)._ A gust, &c. Remorse.
[121-3] Shame . . . dog om. Remorse.
[Between 125 and 140.]
_Isidore._ They'll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched
A stranger near the ruin in the wood,
Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers.
I had followed him at distance, seen him scale
Its western wall, and by an easier entrance
Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked,
That mid the chequer work of light and shade,
With curious choice he plucked no other flowers,
But those on which the moonlight fell: and once
I heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard--
Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.
_Ordonio._ Doubtless you question'd him?
_Isidore._ 'Twas my intention,
Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.
But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies
Lurk everywhere, already (as it seemed)
Had given commission to his apt familiar
To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,
Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.
I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him
In that lone place, again concealed myself;
Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd,
And in your name, as lord of this domain,
Proudly he answered, 'Say to the Lord Ordonio,
Remorse.
[143] robe] robes Remorse.
[144] Stage-direction, _a_] _the_ Remorse.
[147] You cannot err. It is a small green dell Remorse.
[Between 158 and 205:]
_Ordonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the scene, and
then turning round to ISIDORE)._ Ha! Who lurks there! Have we been
overheard?
There where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glitters----
_Isidore._ 'Neath those tall stones, which propping each the other,
Form a mock portal with their pointed arch?
Pardon my smiles! 'Tis a poor idiot boy,
Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,
His weak eyes seeth'd in most unmeaning tears.
And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head,
And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set,
See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises.
_Ordonio._ 'Tis well! and now for this same wizard's lair.
_Isidore._ Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash
Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters
O'er the old thatch.
_Ordonio._ I shall not fail to find it.
[_Exeunt ORDONIO and ISIDORE._
SCENE II.
_The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various
kinds are seen. Discovers ALVAR, ZULIMEZ and ALHADRA, as on the point of
leaving._
_Alhadra (addressing ALVAR)._ Farewell then! and though many thoughts
perplex me,
Aught evil or ignoble never can I
Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art,
The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need
Of such a leader.
_Alvar._ Nobly minded woman!
Long time against oppression have I fought,
And for the native liberty of faith
Have bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain:
Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls
The volume of concealment. In the future,
As in the optician's glassy cylinder,
The indistinguishable blots and colours
Of the dim past collect and shape themselves,
Upstarting in their own completed image
To scare or to reward.
I sought the guilty,
And what I sought I found: but ere the spear
Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form
Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose
To the Avenger I leave Vengeance, and depart!
Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,
Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:
For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.
Once more, farewell. [_Exit ALHADRA._
Yes, to the Belgic states
We will return. These robes, this stained complexion,
Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.
Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past services.
_Zulimez._ And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours,
You let a murderer hold?
_Alvar._ O faithful Zulimez!
That my return involved Ordonio's death,
I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,
Yet bearable:--but when I see my father
Strewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground,
Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa--
Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants
His infants--poor Teresa!--all would perish,
All perish--all; and I (nay bear with me)
Could not survive the complicated ruin!
_Zulimez._ Nay now! I have distress'd you--you well know,
I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True, 'tis tiresome:
You are a painter, one of many fancies!
You can call up past deeds, and make them live
On the blank canvass! and each little herb,
That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,
You have learnt to name--
Hark! heard you not some footsteps?
_Alvar._ What if it were my brother coming onwards?
I sent a most mysterious message to him.
_Enter ORDONIO._
_Alvar._ It is he!
_Ordonio (to himself as he enters)._ If I distinguished right her gait
and stature,
It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife,
That passed me as I entered. A lit taper,
In the night air, doth not more naturally
Attract the night flies round it, than a conjuror
Draws round him the whole female neighbourhood. [_Addressing ALVAR._
You know my name, I guess, if not my person.
Remorse.
[For lines 31-46 of Remorse, Act II, Scene II, vide _supra_ Osorio, Act
II, Scene II, lines 169-84.]
Stage-direction preceding 162:
_Albert and an old servant both drest as Morescoes._ Corr. in MS. III.
[162-6] MS. III erased.
[167-8]
And all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours
You let a murderer hold!
_Albert._ O faithful Ali
Corr. in MS. III.
[184-7]
_Albert._ Yes to the Netherlands
We will return, these robes this stained complexion
Akin to Falsehood, weigh upon my spirit
What e'er befal us, the heroic Maurice
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past service.
Corr. in MS. III.
[200] After _Enter OSORIO._
Be quick
Remove these tablets--quick conceal it--
Corr. in MS. III.
[201-3] om. MS. III.
Stage-directions (_groaning_, &c.) before 206, and (_Albert_, &c.) after
206 om. Remorse.
[206] _Zul. (to Alvar)._ Why, &c. Remorse.
[208] in anguish] forgiveness Remorse.
[209-10]
_Ord. (returning and aloud)._
Plucked in the moonlight from a ruin'd abbey--
Those only, which the pale rays visited!
O the unintelligible power of weeds,
Remorse.
[215] Who] Hath Remorse.
[216]
_Ord._ With you, then, I am to speak.
[_Haughtily waving his hand to ZULIMEZ._
And mark you, alone. [_Exit ZULIMEZ._
Remorse.
[224] No, no!] O no! Remorse.
[225] fits] suits Remorse.
[Before 226] _Ord. (aside)._ O what a, &c. Remorse.
[228]
Yet still a fool! [_Looks round the cottage._
You are poor!
Remorse.
[230-3]
The Inquisition, too--You comprehend me?
You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power
Remorse.
[235] And for the boon I ask of you but this Remorse.
[237] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[239]
_Ord._ The slave begins to soften. [_aside._
You are my friend
Remorse.
[After 242] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[244] _Alv. (aside)._ Alas! &c. Remorse.
[247] Have you no servants here, &c.? Remorse.
[252] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[255-9]
Insolent slave! how dar'dst thou--
[_Turns abruptly from ALVAR, and then to himself._
Why! What's this?
'Twas idiocy! I'll tie myself to an aspen,
And wear a fool's cap--
_Alvar._ Fare thee well--
I pity thee, Ordonio, even to anguish. [_ALVAR is retiring._
_Ordonio._ Ho! [_Calling to ALVAR._
_Alvar._ Be brief, &c.
Remorse.
[267] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[268] Stage-direction om. Remorse. God] Heaven Remorse.
[270] What, art thou mad? Why look'st thou upward so? Remorse.
[272] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[278] Stage-direction om. Remorse. Well--and this lady! Pray, proceed my
lord MS. III. erased.
[282] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[Before and after 287] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[290] this] the Remorse.
[296] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[297] _Ordonio._ We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night, Remorse.
[300-2]
(For I have arranged it--music, altar, incense)
All shall be ready. Here is this same picture,
And here, what you will value more, a purse.
Come early for your magic ceremonies.
Remorse.
[303] _Exit ORDONIO. ALVAR (alone, indignantly flings the purse away and
gazes_, &c. Remorse.
[305] Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! Thee dishonour'd! Remorse.
[Between 312 and 313:]
Who spake pollution of thee! barter for life
This farewell pledge, which with impassioned vow
I had sworn that I would grasp--ev'n in my death-pang!
Remorse.
Affixed to 318-19 omitted. (_Ali re-enters_).
Ali! new Hope, new joy! A life thrills thro' me
As if renew'd from Heaven! Bring back that tablet
Restor'd to me by a fortunate Star. This picture
Of my assassination will I leave
As the token of my Fate:--
Haste, for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd [_Exit Ali._
MS. III.
[318-20] and stage-directions [_Maurice_, &c.; (_gazing_, &c.) om.
Remorse.
[321] image] portrait Remorse.
[324] shall] will Remorse.
ACT THE THIRD
SCENE THE FIRST.--_A hall of armory, with an altar in the part farthest
from the stage._
_VELEZ, OSORIO, MARIA._
_Maria._ Lord Velez! you have ask'd my presence here,
And I submit; but (Heaven bear witness for me!)
My heart approves it not! 'tis mockery!
[_Here ALBERT enters in a sorcerer's robe._
_Maria (to Albert)._ Stranger! I mourn and blush to see _you_ here
On such employments! With far other thoughts 5
I left you.
_Osorio (aside)._ Ha! he has been tampering with her!
_Albert._ O high-soul'd maiden, and more dear to me
Than suits the stranger's name, I swear to thee,
I will uncover all concealed things!
Doubt, but decide not!
Stand from off the altar. 10
[_Here a strain of music is heard from behind the
scenes, from an instrument of glass or
steel--the harmonica or Celestina stop, or
Clagget's metallic organ._
_Albert._ With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm
I call up the departed. Soul of Albert!
Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spells:
So may the gates of Paradise unbarr'd
Cease thy swift toils, since haply thou art one 15
Of that innumerable company,
Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow,
Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion,
With noise too vast and constant to be heard--
Fitliest unheard! For, O ye numberless 20
And rapid travellers! what ear unstun'd,
What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against
The rushing of your congregated wings?
Even now your living wheel turns o'er my head!
Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desart sands, 25
That roar and whiten, like a burst of waters,
A sweet appearance, but a dread illusion,
To the parch'd caravan that roams by night.
And ye build up on the becalmed waves
That whirling pillar, which from earth to heaven 30
Stands vast, and moves in blackness. Ye too split
The ice-mount, and with fragments many and huge,
Tempest the new-thaw'd sea, whose sudden gulphs
Suck in, perchance, some Lapland wizard's skiff.
Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye dance, 35
Till from the blue-swoln corse the soul toils out,
And joins your mighty army.
Soul of Albert!
Hear the mild spell and tempt no blacker charm.
By sighs unquiet and the sickly pang
Of an half dead yet still undying hope, 40
Pass visible before our mortal sense;
So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine,
Her knells and masses that redeem the dead.
THE SONG
(_Sung behind the scenes, accompanied by the same
instrument as before._)
Hear, sweet spirit! hear the spell
Lest a blacker charm compel! 45
So shall the midnight breezes swell
With thy deep long-lingering knell.
And at evening evermore
In a chapel on the shore
Shall the chanters sad and saintly, 50
Yellow tapers burning faintly,
Doleful masses chant for thee,
Miserere, Domine!
Hark! the cadence dies away
On the quiet moonlight sea, 55
The boatmen rest their oars, and say,
Miserere, Domine! [_A long pause._
_Osorio._ This was too melancholy, father!
_Velez._ Nay!
My Albert lov'd sad music from a child.
Once he was lost; and after weary search 60
We found him in an open place of the wood,
To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy
Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore
Some strangely-moving notes, and these, he said,
Were taught him in a dream; him we first saw 65
Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank;
And, lower down, poor Albert fast asleep,
His head upon the blind boy's dog--it pleased me
To mark, how he had fasten'd round the pipe
A silver toy, his grandmother had given him. 70
Methinks I see him now, as he then look'd.
His infant dress was grown too short for him,
Yet still he wore it.
_Albert (aside)._ My tears must not flow--
I must not clasp his knees, and cry, my father!
_Osorio._ The innocent obey nor charm nor spell. 75
My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit
Burst on our sight, a passing visitant!
Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee,
O 'twere a joy to me.
_Albert (abruptly)._ A joy to thee!
What if thou heard'st him now? What if his spirit 80
Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee,
With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard?
What if, his steadfast eye still beaming pity
And brother's love, he turn'd his head aside,
Lest he should look at thee, and with one look 85
Hurl thee beyond all power of penitence?
_Velez._ These are unholy fancies!
_Osorio (struggling with his feelings)._ Yes, my father!
He is in heaven!
_Albert (still to Osorio)._ But what if this same brother
Had lived even so, that at his dying hour
The name of heaven would have convuls'd his face 90
More than the death-pang?
_Maria._ Idly-prating man!
He was most virtuous.
_Albert (still to Osorio)._ What if his very virtues
Had pamper'd his swoln heart, and made him proud?
And what if pride had duped him into guilt,
Yet still he stalk'd, a self-created God, 95
Not very bold, but excellently cunning;
And one that at his mother's looking-glass,
Would force his features to a frowning sternness?
Young lord! I tell thee, that there are such beings,--
Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, 100
To see these most proud men, that loathe mankind,
At every stir and buz of coward conscience,
Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites!
Away! away! Now let me hear more music. [_Music as before._
_Albert._ The spell is mutter'd--come, thou wandering shape, 105
Who own'st no master in an eye of flesh,
Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it or foul,
If he be dead, come quick, and bring with thee
That which he grasp'd in death; and if he lives,
Some token of his obscure perilous life. 110
[_The whole orchestra crashes into one chorus._
Wandering demon! hear the spell
Lest a blacker charm compel!
[_A thunder-clap. The incense on the altar takes
fire suddenly._
_Maria._ This is some trick--I know, it is a trick.
Yet my weak fancy, and these bodily creepings,
Would fain give substance to the shadow.[555:1]
_Velez (advancing to the altar)._ Hah! 115
A picture!
_Maria._ O God! _my_ picture?
_Albert (gazing at Maria with wild impatient distressfulness)._
Pale--pale--deadly pale!
_Maria._ He grasp'd it when he died.
[_She swoons. ALBERT rushes to her and supports her._
_Albert._ My love! my wife!
Pale--pale, and cold! My love! my wife! Maria!
[_VELEZ is at the altar. OSORIO remains near him in a
state of stupor._
_Osorio (rousing himself)._ Where am I? 'Twas a lazy chilliness. 120
_Velez (takes and conceals the picture in his robe)._ This way, my
son! She must not see this picture.
Go, call the attendants! Life will soon ebb back!
[_VELEZ and OSORIO leave the stage._
_Albert._ Her pulse doth flutter. Maria! my Maria!
_Maria (recovering--looks round)._ I heard a voice--but often in
my dreams,
I hear that voice, and wake; and try, and try, 125
To hear it waking--but I never could!
And 'tis so now--even so! Well, he is dead,
Murder'd perhaps! and I am faint, and feel
As if it were no painful thing to die!
_Albert (eagerly)._ Believe it not, sweet maid! believe it not, 130
Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture
Framed by a guilty wretch.
_Maria._ Ha! who art thou?
_Albert (exceedingly agitated)._ My heart bursts over thee!
_Maria._ Didst _thou_ murder him?
And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man!
I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee! 135
_Albert (aside)._ Let me be gone.
_Maria._ If thou didst murder him,
His spirit ever, at the throne of God,
Asks mercy for thee, prays for mercy for thee,
With tears in heaven!
_Albert._ Albert was not murder'd.
Your foster-mother----
_Maria._ And doth she know aught? 140
_Albert._ She knows not aught--but haste thou to her cottage
To-morrow early--bring Lord Velez with thee.
There ye must meet me--but your servants come.
_Maria (wildly)._ Nay--nay--but tell me!
[_A pause--then presses her forehead._
Ah! 'tis lost again!
This dead confused pain! [_A pause--she gazes at ALBERT._
Mysterious man! 145
Methinks, I cannot fear thee--for thine eye
Doth swim with pity--I will lean on thee.
[_Exeunt ALBERT and MARIA._
_Re-enter VELEZ and OSORIO._
_Velez (sportively)._ You shall not see the picture, till you own
it.[556:1]
_Osorio._ This mirth and raillery, sir! beseem your age.
I am content to be more serious.[556:2] 150
_Velez._ Do you think I did not scent it from the first?
An excellent scheme, and excellently managed.
'Twill blow away her doubts, and now she'll wed you,
I'faith, the likeness is most admirable.
I saw the trick--yet these old eyes grew dimmer 155
With very foolish tears, it look'd so like him!
_Osorio._ Where should I get her portrait?
_Velez._ Get her portrait?
Portrait? You mean the picture! At the painter's--
No difficulty then--but that you lit upon
A fellow that could play the sorcerer, 160
With such a grace and terrible majesty,
It was most rare good fortune. And how deeply
He seem'd to suffer when Maria swoon'd,
And half made love to her! I suppose you'll ask me
Why did he so?
_Osorio (with deep tones of suppressed agitation)._ Ay, wherefore
did he so? 165
_Velez._ Because you bade him--and an excellent thought!
A mighty man, and gentle as he is mighty.
He'll wind into her confidence, and rout
A host of scruples--come, confess, Osorio!
_Osorio._ You pierce through mysteries with a lynx's eye, 170
In this, your merry mood! you see it all!
_Velez._ Why, no!--not all. I have not yet discover'd,
At least, not wholly, what his speeches meant.
Pride and hypocrisy, and guilt and cunning--
Then when he fix'd his obstinate eye on you, 175
And you pretended to look strange and tremble.
Why--why--what ails you now?
_Osorio (with a stupid stare)._ Me? why? what ails me?
A pricking of the blood--it might have happen'd
At any other time. Why scan you me?
_Velez (clapping him on the shoulder)._ 'Twon't do--'twon't do--I
have lived too long in the world. 180
His speech about the corse and stabs and murderers,
Had reference to the assassins in the picture:
That I made out.
_Osorio (with a frantic eagerness)._ Assassins! what assassins!
_Velez._ Well-acted, on my life! Your curiosity
Runs open-mouth'd, ravenous as winter wolf. 185
I dare not stand in its way. [_He shows OSORIO the picture._
_Osorio._ Dup'd--dup'd--dup'd!
That villain Ferdinand! (_aside_).
_Velez._ Dup'd--dup'd--not I.
As he swept by me----
_Osorio._ Ha! _what_ did he say?
_Velez._ He caught his garment up and hid his face.
It seem'd as he were struggling to suppress---- 190
_Osorio._ A laugh! a laugh! O hell! he laughs at me!
_Velez._ It heaved his chest more like a violent sob.
_Osorio._ A choking laugh! [_A pause--then very wildly._
I tell thee, my dear father!
I am most glad of this!
_Velez._ Glad!--aye--to be sure.
_Osorio._ I was benumb'd, and stagger'd up and down 195
Thro' darkness without light--dark--dark--dark--
And every inch of this my flesh did feel
As if a cold toad touch'd it! Now 'tis sunshine,
And the blood dances freely thro' its channels!
[_He turns off--then (to himself) mimicking FERDINAND'S
manner._[558:1]
'A common trick of gratitude, my lord! 200
Old Gratitude! a dagger would dissect
His own full heart,' 'twere good to see its colour!
_Velez (looking intently at the picture)._ Calm, yet commanding!
how he bares his breast,
Yet still they stand with dim uncertain looks,
As penitence had run before their crime. 205
A crime too black for aught to follow it
Save blasphemous despair! See _this_ man's face--
With what a difficult toil he drags his soul
To do the deed. [_Then to OSORIO._
O this was delicate flattery
To poor Maria, and I love thee for it! 210
_Osorio (in a slow voice with a reasoning laugh)._ Love--love--and
then we hate--and what? and wherefore?
Hatred and love. Strange things! both strange alike!
What if one reptile sting another reptile,
Where is the crime? The goodly face of Nature
Hath one trail less of slimy filth upon it. 215
Are we not all predestined rottenness
And cold dishonor? Grant it that this hand
Had given a morsel to the hungry worms
Somewhat too early. Where's the guilt of this?
That this must needs bring on the idiotcy 220
Of moist-eyed penitence--'tis like a dream!
_Velez._ Wild talk, my child! but thy excess of feeling
[_Turns off from OSORIO._
Sometimes, I fear, it will unhinge his brain!
_Osorio._ I kill a man and lay him in the sun,
And in a month there swarm from his dead body 225
A thousand--nay, ten thousand sentient beings
In place of that one man whom I had kill'd.
Now who shall tell me, that each one and all,
Of these ten thousand lives, is not as happy
As that one life, which being shov'd aside 230
Made room for these ten thousand?[559:1]
_Velez._ Wild as madness!
_Osorio._ Come, father! you have taught me to be merry,
And merrily we'll pore upon this picture.
_Velez (holding the picture before Osorio)._ That Moor, who points
his sword at Albert's breast----
_Osorio (abruptly)._ A tender-hearted, scrupulous, grateful
villain, 235
Whom I will strangle!
_Velez._ And these other two----
_Osorio._ Dead--dead already!--what care I for the dead?
_Velez._ The heat of brain and your too strong affection
For Albert, fighting with your other passion,
Unsettle you, and give reality 240
To these your own contrivings.
_Osorio._ Is it so?
You see through all things with _your_ penetration.
Now I am calm. How fares it with Maria?
My heart doth ache to see her.
_Velez._ Nay--defer it!
Defer it, dear Osorio! I will go. [_Exit VELEZ._ 245
_Osorio._ A rim of the sun lies yet upon the sea--
And now 'tis gone! all may be done this night!
_Enter a_ Servant.
_Osorio._ There is a man, once a Moresco chieftain,
One Ferdinand.
_Servant._ He lives in the Alpuxarras,
Beneath a slate rock.
_Osorio._ Slate rock?
_Servant._ Yes, my lord! 250
If you had seen it, you must have remember'd
The flight of steps his children had worn up it
With often clambering.
_Osorio._ Well, it may be so.
_Servant._ Why, now I think on't, at this time of the year
'Tis hid by vines.
_Osorio (in a muttering voice)._ The cavern--aye--the cavern.
He cannot fail to find it. [_To the_ Servant. 255
Where art going?
You must deliver to this Ferdinand
A letter. Stay till I have written it. [_Exit the_ Servant.
_Osorio (alone)._ The tongue can't stir when the mouth is fill'd
with mould.
A little earth stops up most eloquent mouths, 260
And a square stone with a few pious texts
Cut neatly on it, keeps the earth down tight.
_Scene changes to the space before the castle._
_FRANCESCO and a_ Spy.
_Francesco._ Yes! yes! I have the key of all their lives.
If a man fears me, he is forced to love me.
And if I can, and do not ruin him, 265
He is fast bound to serve and honour me!
[_ALBERT enters from the castle, and is crossing
the stage._
_Spy._ There--there--your Reverence! That is the sorcerer.
[_FRANCESCO runs up and rudely catches hold of
ALBERT. ALBERT dashes him to the earth.
FRANCESCO and the_ Spy _make an uproar,
and the servants rush from out the
castle._
_Francesco._ Seize, seize and gag him! or the Church curses you!
[_The servants seize and gag ALBERT._
_Enter VELEZ and OSORIO._
_Osorio (aside)._ This is most lucky!
_Francesco (inarticulate with rage)._ See you this, Lord Velez?
Good evidence have I of most foul sorcery, 270
And in the name of Holy Church command you
To give me up the keys--the keys, my lord!
Of that same dungeon-hole beneath your castle.
This imp of hell--but we delay enquiry
Till to Granada we have convoy'd him. 275
_Osorio (to the Servants)._ Why haste you not? Go, fly and
dungeon him!
Then bring the keys and give them to his Reverence.
[_The_ Servants _hurry off ALBERT. OSORIO goes up
to FRANCESCO, and pointing at ALBERT._
_Osorio (with a laugh)._ 'He that can bring the dead to life
again.'
_Francesco._ What? did _you_ hear it?
_Osorio._ Yes, and plann'd this scheme
To bring conviction on him. Ho! a wizard, 280
Thought I--but where's the proof! I plann'd this scheme.
The scheme has answer'd--we have proof enough.
_Francesco._ My lord, your pious policy astounds me.
I trust my honest zeal----
_Osorio._ Nay, reverend father!
It has but raised my veneration for you. 285
But 'twould be well to stop all intertalk
Between my servants and this child of darkness.
_Francesco._ My lord! with speed I'll go, make swift return,
And humbly redeliver you the keys. [_Exit FRANCESCO._
_Osorio (alone)._ 'The stranger, that lives nigh, still picking
weeds.' 290
And this was his friend, his crony, his twin-brother!
O! I am green, a very simple stripling--
The wise men of this world make nothing of me.
By Heaven, 'twas well contrived! And I, forsooth,
I was to cut my throat in honour of conscience. 295
And this tall wizard--ho!--he was to pass
For Albert's friend! He _hath_ a trick of his manner.
He was to tune his voice to honey'd sadness,
And win her to a transfer of her love
By lamentable tales of her dear Albert, 300
And his dear Albert! Yea, she would have lov'd him.
He, that can sigh out in a woman's ear
Sad recollections of her perish'd lover,
And sob and smile with veering sympathy,
And, now and then, as if by accident, 305
Pass his mouth close enough to touch her cheek
With timid lip, he takes the lover's place,
He takes his place, for certain! Dusky rogue,
Were it not sport to whimper with thy mistress,
Then steal away and roll upon my grave, 310
Till thy sides shook with laughter? Blood! blood! blood!
They want thy blood! thy blood, Osorio!
[END OF ACT THE THIRD.]
FOOTNOTES:
[555:1] In MS. II this speech is crossed out, and on the blank page
opposite the following is written in Coleridge's hand:--
'Instead of Maria's portrait, Albert places on the altar a small picture
of his attempted assassination. The scene is not wholly without
_poetical_ merit, but it is miserably undramatic, or rather untragic. A
scene of magic is introduced in which no single person on the stage has
the least faith--all, though in different ways, think or know it to be a
_trick_----consequently, &c.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 494, _Editor's Note_.
In MS. III the following stage-direction is written (in S. T. C.'s
handwriting) on the page opposite to lines 113-15:--
'Albert has placed on the altar a small picture representing the attempt
to assassinate him, instead of the portrait of Maria which Osorio had
given him.'
[556:1] In MS. II Coleridge has written opposite this:--'Velez supposes
the picture is an innocent contrivance of Osorio's to remove Maria's
scruples: Osorio, that it is the portrait of Maria which he had himself
given the supposed Wizard.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 495, _Editors Note_.
In MS. III Coleridge wrote on the opposite page:--'Velez supposes the
picture which represents the attempt to assassinate Albert, to have been
a mere invention contrived by Osorio with the most innocent intentions.
Osorio supposes it of course, to be the _portrait_ of Maria which he had
restored to Albert!'
[556:2] The transcriber of MS. I had here written 'superstitious', which
is marked through with ink, and 'serious' is substituted, in Coleridge's
own hand. In MS. II 'superstitious' is left undisturbed. _P. W._, 1893,
p. 495, _Editor's Note_. In MS. III 'serious' is erased and
'superstitious' is superscribed.
[558:1] In MS. II Coleridge has written opposite this:--'Osorio
immediately supposes that this wizard whom Ferdinand had recommended to
him, was in truth, an accomplice of Ferdinand, to whom the whole secret
had been betrayed.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 496, _Editor's Note_.
[559:1] Opposite the passage in MS. II the following is written
in the transcriber's hand:--
Ce malheur, dites-vous, est le bien d'un autre être--
De mon corps tout sanglant, mille insectes vont naître.
Quand la mort met le comble aux maux que j'ai souffert,
Le beau soulagement d'être mangé de vers!
Je ne suis du grand TOUT qu'une faible partie--
Oui; mais les animaux condamnés à la vie
Sous les êtres sentants nés sous la mème loi
Vivent dans la douleur, et meurent comme moi.
_Désastre de Lisbonne._ _P. W._, 1893, p. 491, _Editor's Note_.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1]
ACT III.
SCENE 1.--_A Hall of armory, with an altar at the back of the stage.
Soft music from an instrument of glass or steel. VALDEZ, ORDONIO, and
ALVAR in a Sorcerer's robe, are discovered._
_Ord._ This was too melancholy, father.
_Val._ Nay,
My Alvar lov'd sad music from a child.
Once he was lost; and after weary search
We found him in an open place in [of _Osor._] the wood,
To which spot he had followed a blind boy,
Who breath'd into a pipe of sycamore
Some strangely-moving notes: and these, he said,
Were taught him in a dream. Him we first saw
Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank;
And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep,
His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleas'd me
To mark how he had fasten'd round the pipe
A silver toy his {grandmother had _Osor._
{grandam had late given him.
Methinks I see him now as he then look'd--
{ His infant dress was grown too short for him, _Osor._
{ Even so!--He had outgrown his infant dress,
Yet still he wore it.
_Alv. (aside)._ My tears must not flow!
I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father!
_Enter TERESA and attendants._
Remorse.
[These lines with the variants as noted above are included in Osorio,
Act III, lines 58-74.]
[After 3] stage-direction om. Remorse.
[Between 3 and 4]
_Ordonio._ Believe you then no preternatural influence?
{ Believe you not that spirits throng around us?
{ I thought you held that spirits throng'd around us?
Corr. in MS. III.
_Ter._ Say rather that I have imagined it
A possible thing; and it has sooth'd my soul
As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me
To traffic with the black and frenzied hope,
That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard.
Remorse.
[4] _you_] you Remorse.
[5] employments] employment Remorse.
[9] things] guilt Remorse.
[10] Stand ye from the altar Remorse.
[After 10] [_Here_, &c. . . . scene Remorse.
[13] spells] spell Remorse.
[21] unstun'd] unstunn'd Remorse.
[After 23] [_Music_ Remorse.
[29] build up] upbuild Remorse.
[37] [_Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words, 'Hear,
sweet Spirit.'_ Remorse.
[After 43] SONG.--_Behind the scenes_, &c. Remorse.
[50] chanters] chaunter Remorse.
[58-74] are printed as ll. 1-17, Act III, Sc. I Remorse.
[61] of] in Remorse.
[70-72]
A silver toy his grandam had late given him,
Methinks I see him now as he then look'd--
Even so!--He had outgrown his infant dress,
Remorse, Act III, ll. 13-15.
[79] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[87] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[88-9]
But what if he had a brother,
Who had lived even so
Remorse.
[91-2]
_Valdez._ Idly prating man!
Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother
Stands here before thee--a father's blessing on him!
He is most virtuous.
Remorse.
[96] excellently] exquisitely Remorse.
[Between 104 and 105]
[_Music again._
_Teresa._ 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures!
But whatso'er it mean, I dare no longer
Be present at these lawless mysteries,
This dark provoking of the hidden Powers!
Already I affront--if not high Heaven--
Yet Alvar's memory!--Hark! I make appeal
Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence
To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek
That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens,
Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire.
_Alv. (to TERESA)._
O full of faith and guileless love, thy spirit
Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt
Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent!
[_Exeunt TERESA and Attendant. Music as before._
Remorse.
[106] an eye of flesh] a human eye Remorse.
[108] come quick] O come Remorse.
[109] and if he lives] but if he live Remorse.
[After 110] _The whole music clashes into a Chorus_ Remorse.
[111] demon] demons Remorse.
[113 foll.] For the rest of Act III, as published in Remorse, vide
_post_ pp. 851-8. According to the Editor of Osorio as first published
in 1873, 'The rest of this Act is entirely different in the published
Remorse.' This statement needs qualification. The remainder of Act III
of Osorio was rewritten, much was omitted, much added, and the 'dramatic
ordonnance' of this part of the play was remodelled on a different plan,
but the following lines 174-82, 195-202, 210-31 and 246-7 were included,
with certain alterations, in Remorse. See Remorse, Act III, Scene II,
ll. 64-71, 79-87, 94-114 and 185-6.
[140-3] _And . . . come_ MS. III erased.
[After 146]
Doth swim with love and pity--Well Ordonio
O my foreboding Spirit, he suborn'd thee,
And thou didst spare his life
Corr. in MS. III.
[299] interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
ACT THE FOURTH
SCENE THE FIRST.--_A cavern, dark except where a gleam of moonlight is
seen on one side of the further end of it, supposed to be cast on it
from a cranny_ [_crevice_ Remorse] _in a part of the cavern out of
sight._
[_FERDINAND alone, an extinguished torch in his hand._
_Ferdinand._ Drip! drip! drip! drip!--in such a place as this
It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip!
I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch.
Faith 'twas a moving letter--very moving!
His life in danger--no place safe but this. 5
'Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude!
And yet--but no! there can't be such a villain.
It cannot be!
Thanks to that little cranny
Which lets the moonlight in! I'll go and sit by it.
To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10
Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep,
'Twere better than this dreary noise of water-drops!
[_He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of
moonlight,_ [_and returns_. Remorse]
_returns after a minute's elapse in an
ecstasy of fear._
A hellish pit! O God--'tis like my night-mair!
I was just in!--and those damn'd fingers of ice
Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15
[_FERDINAND stands_ [_motionless_ _MS. III erased_]
_staring at another recess in the cavern. In
the mean time OSORIO enters with a torch and
hollas to him_ [_halloes to ISIDORE_ Remorse].
_Ferdinand._ I swear, I saw a something moving there!
The moonshine came and went, like a flash of lightning.
I swear, I saw it move!
[_OSORIO goes into the recess, then returns, and with
great scorn._
_Osorio._ A jutting clay-stone
Drips on the long lank weed that grows beneath;
And the weed nods and drips.
_Ferdinand (forcing a faint laugh)._ A joke to laugh at! 20
It was not that which frighten'd me, my lord!
_Osorio._ What frighten'd you?
_Ferdinand._ You see that little cranny?
But first permit me,
[_Lights his torch at OSORIO'S, and while lighting it._
(A lighted torch in the hand
Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath
Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25
As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)[564:1]
You see that cranny there?
_Osorio._ Well, what of that?
_Ferdinand._ I walk'd up to it, meaning to sit there.
When I had reach'd it within twenty paces----
[_FERDINAND starts as if he felt the terror over again._
Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30
[_OSORIO goes and returns._
_Osorio._ It must have shot some pleasant feelings thro' you?
_Ferdinand._ If every atom of a dead man's flesh
Should move, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever--'twas just so!
Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35
Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald--
_Osorio (interrupting him)._ Why, Ferdinand! I blush for thy
cowardice.
It would have startled any man, I grant thee.
But such a panic.
_Ferdinand._ When a boy, my lord!
I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40
Push'd in huge stones and heard them thump and rattle
Against its horrid sides; and hung my head
Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments
Sunk, with faint crash, in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45
A living thing came near; unless, perchance,
Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould,
Close at its edge.
_Osorio._ Art thou more coward now?
_Ferdinand._ Call him that fears his fellow-men a coward.
I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50
It were too bad a prison-house for goblins.
Besides (you'll laugh, my lord!) but true it is,
My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted[565:1]
By what had pass'd between us in the morning.
I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55
And doz'd and started, doz'd again and started.
I do entreat your lordship to believe me,
In my last dream----
_Osorio._ Well?
_Ferdinand._ I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Waked me. She heard my heart beat!
_Osorio._ Strange enough! 60
Had you been here before?
_Ferdinand._ Never, my lord!
But my eyes do not see it now more clearly
Than in my dream I saw that very chasm.
[_OSORIO stands in a deep study--then, after a pause._
_Osorio._ There is no reason why it should be so.
And yet it is.
_Ferdinand._ What is, my lord?
_Osorio._ Unpleasant 65
To kill a man!
_Ferdinand._ Except in self-defence.
_Osorio._ Why that's my case: and yet 'tis still unpleasant.
At least I find it so! But you, perhaps,
Have stronger nerves?
_Ferdinand._ Something doth trouble you.
How can I serve you? By the life you gave me, 70
By all that makes that life of value to me,
My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you,
Name it, and I will toil to do the thing,
If it be innocent! But this, my lord!
Is not a place where you could perpetrate, 75
No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness
(When ten yards off, we know, 'tis chearful moonlight)
Collects the guilt and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.
_Osorio._ Thyself be judge.
[_OSORIO walks round the cavern--then looking round it._
One of our family knew this place well. 80
_Ferdinand._ Who? when? my lord.
_Osorio._ What boots it who or when?
Hang up the torch. I'll tell his tale to thee.
[_They hang [up] their torches in some shelf of_
[_on some ridge in_ Remorse] _the cavern._
_Osorio._ He was a man different from other men,
And he despised them, yet revered himself.[567:1]
_Ferdinand._ What? he was mad?
_Osorio._ All men seem'd mad to him, 85
Their actions noisome folly, and their talk--
A goose's gabble was more musical.
Nature had made him for some other planet,
And press'd his soul into a human shape
By accident or malice. In this world 90
He found no fit companion!
_Ferdinand._ Ah, poor wretch!
Madmen are mostly proud.
_Osorio._ He walk'd alone,
And phantasies, unsought for, troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities, and with these shadows 95
His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happen'd,
A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest:
To this in moody murmur, and low voice,
He yielded utterance as some talk in sleep.
The man who heard him----
Why didst thou look round? 100
_Ferdinand._ I have a prattler three years old, my lord!
In truth he is my darling. As I went
From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep--
But I am talking idly--pray go on!
And what did this man?
_Osorio._ With his human hand 105
He gave a being and reality
To that wild fancy of a possible thing.
Well it was done. [_Then very wildly._
Why babblest thou of guilt?
The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off.
And he, whose tale I tell thee--dost thou listen? 110
_Ferdinand._ I would, my lord, you were by _my_ fireside!
I'd listen to you with an eager eye,
Tho' you began this cloudy tale at midnight.
But I do listen--pray proceed, my lord!
_Osorio._ Where was I?
_Ferdinand._ He of whom you tell the tale-- 115
_Osorio._ Surveying all things with a quiet scorn
Tamed himself down to living purposes,
The occupations and the semblances
Of ordinary men--and such he seem'd.
But that some over-ready agent--he---- 120
_Ferdinand._ Ah! what of him, my lord?
_Osorio._ He proved a villain;
Betray'd the mystery to a brother villain;
And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot
To hunt him down to infamy and death
To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125
And stain the honour of an orphan lady
With barbarous mixture and unnatural union.
What did the Velez? I am proud of the name,
Since he dared do it.
[_OSORIO grasps his sword and turns off from FERDINAND,
then, after a pause, returns._
_Osorio._ Our links burn dimly.
_Ferdinand._ A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130
Tell what he did.
_Osorio (fiercely)._ That which his wisdom prompted.
He made the traitor meet him in this cavern,
And here he kill'd the traitor.
_Ferdinand._ No!--the fool.
He had not wit enough to be a traitor.
Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135
That he, who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie
To murder _his own brother_, would not scruple
To murder _thee_, if e'er his guilt grew jealous
And he could steal upon thee in the dark!
_Osorio._ Thou would'st not then have come, if----
_Ferdinand._ O yes, my lord! 140
I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward!
[_FERDINAND throws off his robe, shows himself armed,
and draws his sword._
_Osorio._ Now this is excellent, and warms the blood!
My heart was drawing back, drawing me back
With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave,
Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145
Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.
_Ferdinand._ And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.
[_They fight. OSORIO disarms FERDINAND, and in disarming
him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to
which they were standing._
_Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio)._ Still I can strangle
thee!
_Osorio._ Nay, fool! stand off.
I'll kill thee--but not so! Go fetch thy sword.
[_FERDINAND hurries into the recess with his torch.
OSORIO follows him, and in a moment returns
alone._
_Osorio._ Now--this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150
His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1]
[_Exit._
_SCENE changes to the court before the Castle of VELEZ._
_MARIA and her FOSTER-MOTHER._
_Maria._ And when I heard that you desired to see me,
I thought your business was to tell me of him.
_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.
_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155
As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.
_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be,
That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady,
As often as I think of those dear times
When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160
On each side of my chair, and make me learn
All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk
In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you,
'Tis more like heaven to come, that what _has_ been!
_Maria._ O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165
Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid--who gazes at it
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye
She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!
_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170
_Maria._ No one.
_Foster-Mother._ My husband's father told it me,
Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul!
He was a woodman, and could fell and saw
With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam
Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy.
A pretty boy, but most unteachable--
And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,
But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185
And all the autumn 'twas his only play
To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
With earth and water on the stumps of trees.
A friar who gather'd simples in the wood,
A grey-hair'd man--he loved this little boy, 190
The boy loved him--and, when the friar taught him,
He soon could write with the pen; and from that time
Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.
So he became a very learned youth.
But O! poor wretch--he read, and read, and read, 195
Till his brain turn'd--and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things.
And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place.
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him,
And once as by the north side of the chapel
They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse,
The earth heav'd under them with such a groan,
That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205
Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd;
A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd
And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210
Sobb'd like a child--it almost broke his heart.
And once as he was working in the cellar,
He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's,
Who sung a doleful song about green fields,
How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described: 220
And the young man escaped.
_Maria._ 'Tis a sweet tale:
Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep,
His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears.
And what became of him?
_Foster-Mother._ He went on shipboard
With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225
Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother
Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain,
He told Leoni that the poor mad youth,
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230
And all alone set sail by silent moonlight,
Up a great river, great as any sea,
And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed
He liv'd and died among the savage men.
_Enter VELEZ._
_Velez._ Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235
_Maria._ O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head,
If ye betray him to these holy brethren!
_Velez (with a kind of sneer)._ A portly man, and eloquent, and
tender!
In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn
That their rude grasp should seize on _such_ a victim. 240
_Maria._ The horror of their ghastly punishments
Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy,
That I should feel too little for mine enemy--
Ah! far too little--if 'twere possible,
I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245
Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are----
_Velez._ Hush! thoughtless woman!
_Maria._ Nay--it wakes within me
More than a woman's spirit.
_Velez (angrily)._ No more of this--
I can endure no more.
_Foster-Mother._ My honour'd master!
Lord Albert used to talk so.
_Maria._ Yes! my mother! 250
These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them
With more delight than, in my fondest hour,
I bend me o'er his portrait.
_Velez (to the Foster-Mother)._ My good woman,
You may retire. [_Exit the FOSTER-MOTHER._
_Velez._ We have mourn'd for Albert.
Have I no living son?
_Maria._ Speak not of him! 255
That low imposture--my heart sickens at it,
If it be madness, must I wed a madman?
And if not madness, there is mystery,
And guilt doth lurk behind it!
_Valdez._ Is this well?
_Maria._ Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260
How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear,
Displac'd each other with swift interchanges?
If this were all assumed, as you believe,
He must needs be a most consummate actor;
And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265
I never could be safe. And why assume
The semblance of such execrable feelings?
_Velez._ Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle
An old man's passion! Was it not enough
That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270
Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason,
But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion,
And toil to blast his honour? I am old--
A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay
Beneath my roof!
[_FRANCESCO enters and stands listening._
_Velez._ Repent and marry him-- 275
Or to the convent.
_Francesco (muttering)._ Good! good! very good!
_Maria._ Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune,
And I will live a solitary woman,
Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons
May be my household.
_Francesco (advancing)._ I abhor a listener; 280
But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you.
I pray, my lord! will you embolden me
To ask you why this lady doth prefer
To live in lonely sort, without a friend
Or fit companion?
_Velez._ Bid her answer you. 285
_Maria._ Nature will be my friend and fit companion.
[_Turns off from them._
O Albert! Albert! that they could return,
Those blessed days, that imitated heaven!
When we two wont to walk at evening-tide;
When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard 290
The voice of that Almighty One, who lov'd us,
In every gale that breath'd, and wave that murmur'd!
O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure
Hath half-assumed the countenance of grief,
And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295
Of bliss, that press'd too heavy on the heart.
_Francesco._ But in the convent, lady, you would have
Such aids as might preserve you from perdition.
There you might dwell.
_Maria._ With tame and credulous faith,
Mad melancholy, antic merriment, 300
Leanness, disquietude, and secret pangs!
O God! it is a horrid thing to know
That each pale wretch, who sits and drops her beads
Had once a mind, which might have given her wings
Such as the angels wear!
_Francesco (stifling his rage)._ Where is your son, my lord? 305
_Velez._ I have not seen him, father, since he left you.
_Francesco._ His lordship's generous nature hath deceiv'd him!
_That_ Ferdinand (or if not he his wife)
I have fresh evidence--are infidels.
We are not safe until they are rooted out. 310
_Maria._ Thou man, who call'st thyself the minister
Of Him whose law was love unutterable!
Why is thy soul so parch'd with cruelty,
That still thou thirstest for thy brother's blood?
_Velez (rapidly)._ Father! I have long suspected it--her brain-- 315
Heed it not, father!
_Francesco._ Nay--but I _must_ heed it.
_Maria._ Thou miserable man! I fear thee not,
Nor prize a life which soon may weary me.
Bear witness, Heav'n! I neither scorn nor hate him-- 320
But O! 'tis wearisome to mourn for evils,
Still mourn, and have no power to remedy! [_Exit MARIA._
_Francesco._ My lord! I shall presume to wait on you
To-morrow early.
_Velez._ Be it so, good father! [_Exit FRANCESCO._
_Velez (alone)._ I do want solace, but not such as thine! 325
The moon is high in heaven, and my eyes ache,
But not with sleep. Well--it is ever so.
A child, a child is born! and the fond heart
Dances! and yet the childless are most happy.
[_SCENE changes to the mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a
Moorish dress, her eyes fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after
another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of_
Morescoes, _all in their Moorish garments. They form a circle at a
distance round ALHADRA. After a pause one of the_ Morescoes _to the man
who stands next to him._
_First Moresco._ The law which forced these Christian dresses on
us, 330
'Twere pleasant to cleave down the wretch who framed it.
_Second._ Yet 'tis not well to trample on it idly.
_First._ Our country robes are dear.
_Second._ And like dear friends,
May chance to prove most perilous informers.
[_A third Moresco, NAOMI, advances from out the circle._
_Naomi._ Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335
We have obey'd thy call. Where is our chief?
And why didst thou enjoin the Moorish garments?
_Alhadra (lifting up_ [_raising_ Remorse] _her eyes, and looking
round on the circle)._
Warriors of Mahomet, faithful in the battle,
My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work
An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340
In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes!
They are _spell_-blasted; and whoever wears them,
His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away,
And his bones soften!
_Naomi._ Where is Ferdinand?
_Alhadra (in a deep low voice)._ This night I went from forth my
house, and left 345
His children all asleep; and he was living!
And I return'd, and found them still asleep--
But he had perish'd.
_All._ Perished?
_Alhadra._ He had perish'd!
Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know
That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350
Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm
Revenge his murder?
_One to Another._ Did she say his murder?
_Naomi._ Murder'd? Not murder'd?
_Alhadra._ Murder'd by a Christian!
[_They all, at once, draw their sabres._
_Alhadra (to Naomi, who on being addressed again advances from
the circle)._ Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword:
This is thy chieftain's! [_He steps forward to take it._
Dost thou dare receive it? 355
For I have sworn by Alia and the prophet,
No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart
Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword
Wet with the blood of all the house of Velez!
_Enter MAURICE._
_All._ A spy! a spy! [_They seize him._
_Maurice._ Off! off! unhand me, slaves! 360
[_After much struggling he disengages himself and draws
his sword._
_Naomi (to Alhadra)._ Speak! shall we kill him?
_Maurice._ Yes! ye can kill a
man,
Some twenty of you! But ye are Spanish slaves!
And slaves are always cruel, always cowards.
_Alhadra._ That man has spoken truth. Whence and who art thou?
_Maurice._ I seek a dear friend, whom for aught I know 365
The son of Velez hath hired one of you
To murder! Say, do ye know aught of Albert?
_Alhadra (starting)._ Albert?--three years ago I heard that name
Murmur'd in sleep! High-minded foreigner!
Mix thy revenge with mine, and stand among us. 370
[_MAURICE stands among the_ Morescoes.
_Alhadra._ Was not Osorio my husband's friend?
_Old Man._ He kill'd my son in battle; yet our chieftain
Forced me to sheathe my dagger. See--the point
Is bright, unrusted with the villain's blood!
_Alhadra._ He is your chieftain's murderer!
_Naomi._ He dies by Alla!
_All (dropping on one knee)._ By
Alla! 375
_Alhadra._ This night a reeking slave came with loud pant,
Gave Ferdinand a letter, and departed,
Swift as he came. Pale, with unquiet looks,
He read the scroll.
_Maurice._ Its purport?
_Alhadra._ Yes, I ask'd it.
He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380
A nobler secret; but I have been faithful
To this bad man, and faithful I will be.'
He said, and arm'd himself, and lit a torch;
Then kiss'd his children, each one on its pillow,
And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385
At distance, till I saw him enter _there_.
_Naomi._ The cavern?
_Alhadra._ Yes--the mouth of yonder cavern.
After a pause I saw the son of Velez
Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise enter'd--
There was another and a longer pause-- 390
And once, methought, I heard the clash of swords,
And soon the son of Velez reappear'd.
He flung his torch towards the moon in sport,
And seem'd as he were mirthful! I stood listening
Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395
_Maurice._ Thou called'st him?
_Alhadra._ I crept into the cavern:
'Twas dark and very silent. [_Then wildly._
What said'st thou?
No, no! I did not dare call, Ferdinand!
Lest I should hear no answer. A brief while,
Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400
Of that for which I came! After that pause,
O God! I heard a groan!--and follow'd it.
And yet another groan--which guided me
Into a strange recess--and there was _light_,
A _hideous_ light! his torch lay on the ground-- 405
Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink.
I spake--and while I spake, a feeble groan
Came from that chasm! It was his last! his death groan!
_Maurice._ Comfort her, comfort her, Almighty Father!
_Alhadra._ I stood in unimaginable trance 410
And agony, that cannot be remember'd,
Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan!
But I had heard his last--my husband's death-groan!
_Naomi._ Haste! let us go!
_Alhadra._ I look'd far down the pit.
My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment, 415
And it was stain'd with blood! Then first I shriek'd!
My eyeballs burnt! my brain grew hot as fire!
And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
Turn'd into blood. I saw them turn to blood!
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420
When on the further brink I saw his sword,
And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue!
The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here,
And he hath not had vengeance! Ferdinand!
Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425
Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following._
END OF THE FOURTH ACT
FOOTNOTES:
[564:1] The square brackets (which appear in both MSS.) seem to indicate
that these words were an 'aside'. _P. W._ 1893, p. 499. _Editor's Note_.
[565:1] Against this passage Coleridge has written in MS. II:--'This
will be held by many for a mere Tragedy-dream--by many who have never
given themselves the trouble to ask themselves from what grounds dreams
pleased in Tragedy, and wherefore they have become so common. I believe,
however, that in the present case, the whole is here psychologically
true and accurate. Prophetical dreams are things of nature, and
explicable by that law of the mind in which where dim ideas are
connected with vivid feelings, Perception and Imagination insinuate
themselves and mix with the forms of Recollection, till the Present
appears to exactly correspond with the Past. Whatever is partially like,
the Imagination will gradually represent as wholly like--a law of our
nature which, when it is perfectly understood, woe to the great city
Babylon--to all the superstitions of Men!' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.
[567:1] Against this passage Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Under the
mask of the third person Osorio relates his own story, as in the
delusion of self-justification and pride, it appeared to himself--at
least as he wished it to appear to himself.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.
'Osorio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he
conceives of his own character and actions--speaking of himself in the
third person.' _MS. III_.
[570:1] Against this line Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Osorio has
thrust Ferdinand down the chasm. I think it an important instance how
Dreams and Prophecies coöperate to their own completion.' _P. W._, 1893,
p. 501.
LINENOTES:
[1-3] Erased MS. III.: om. Remorse.
{ [*water drops*]
This ceaseless dreary sound of { dropping water--
I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!
Corr. in MS. III.
[5-6] In inverted commas. Remorse.
[8] cannot] can not Remorse. cranny] crevice Remorse.
[12] MS. III erased.
[Between 11 and 13]
(_a_) Any thing but this crash of water drops!
These dull abortive sounds that fret the silence
With puny thwartings and mock opposition!
So beats the death-watch to a sick man's ear
Remorse.
(_b_) Anything but this { crash of water-drops
{ [*noise*]
{ scoffing
At broken measure { [*mocking*] intervals--
Their discontinuous, interruptive sound
{ These
{ [*With*] dull abortive &c.
MS. III erased.
Affixed to variant (a) of l. 12 '--this at all events is the final
result of this correction.' _S. T. C._
[13] A hellish pit! O God--'tis that I dreamt of! Corr. in MS. III: A
hellish pit! The very same I dreamt of! Remorse.
[Affixed to 13] 'You mean like the dream presented to my mind when under
the influence of the night-mare. This is most ludicrously expressed.' C.
Ll[oyd]
[16] I swear that I saw something Remorse.
[18] In the stage-direction the last four words are omitted Remorse.
[19] Drips] Drops Remorse.
[Between 19 and 31.]
_Isidore._ A jest to laugh at!
It was not that which scar'd me, good my lord.
_Ordonio._ What scar'd you, then?
_Isidore._ You see that little rift?
But first permit me!
[_Lights his torch at ORDONIO'S, and while
lighting it._
(A lighted torch in the hand
Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath
Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours
As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)
You see that crevice there?
My torch extinguished by these water drops,
And marking that the moonlight came from thence,
I stept in to it, meaning to sit there;
But scarcely had I measured twenty paces--
My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced
Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink
Of a hugh chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine
Filling the void so counterfeited substance,
That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.
Was it my own fear?
Fear too hath its instincts!
(And yet such dens as these are wildly told of,
And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye)
An arm of frost above and from behind me
Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven!
You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here!
My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.
Remorse.
[33] move] creep Remorse.
[35] if] had Remorse.
[37-9]
_Ordonio._ Why, Isidore,
I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled,
I grant you, even a brave man for a moment--
Remorse.
[41] thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[42] and] then Remorse.
[44] Sunk with a faint splash in that groaning Corr. in MS. III. Sunk]
Sank Remorse.
[49] fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.
[52] laugh] smile Remorse.
[Between 54 and 57:]
O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance--
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing,
But only being afraid--stifled with fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Had a strange power of breathing terror round me!
I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
And I entreat your lordship to believe me,
Remorse.
[56] om. Remorse.
[62] my] mine Remorse.
[64] _Ord. (after a pause)._ I know not why it should be! yet it is--
Remorse.
[65] Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.
[67-70]
_Ord._ Why that's my case! and yet the soul recoils from it--
'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
Have sterner feelings?
_Isid._ Something troubles you.
How shall I serve you?
Remorse.
[77] yards] strides Remorse.
[80] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[82] the] thy Remorse.
[Between 84 and 88]
_Isid. (aside)._ He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself!
I am on my guard however: no surprise [_Then to ORDONIO._
Remorse.
[86-7] om. Remorse.
[91-2]
_Isidore._ Of himself he speaks. [_Aside._
Alas! poor wretch!
Mad men, &c.
Remorse.
[93] phantasies] phantom thoughts Remorse.
[104] go on] proceed Remorse.
[105] his] this Remorse.
[106] being] substance Remorse.
[108] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[120] some] same Remorse.
[121-2]
He proved a traitor,
Betrayed the mystery to a brother traitor
Remorse.
[125-7] om. Remorse.
[131] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[Between 143 and 145.]
With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance
Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien,
And claims that life, my pity robb'd her of--
Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it
Remorse.
[Affixed to 147.] _Ferdinand on hearing the threat of Osorio feels a
momentary horror at the consequences of his being killed, and in tones
of mingled fear and sorrow_--
And all my little ones fatherless!
_then bursting into indignation_ 'Die thou first',
MS. III.
[After 147]
[_They fight. ORDONIO disarms ISIDORE, and in disarming
him throws his sword up that recess opposite to
which they were standing. ISIDORE hurries into the
recess with his torch, ORDONIO follows him; a loud
cry of 'Traitor! Monster!' is heard from the
cavern, and in a moment ORDONIO returns alone._
_Ordonio._ I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason.
He dreamt of it, henceforward let him sleep,
A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him.
His dream too is made out--Now for his friend. [_Exit. ORDONIO._
Remorse.
[148-51] om. Remorse.
[150] Now] So MS. III.
[Affixed to 150.] 'Ferdinand's death is not sufficiently explained to
the Audience. There should be a struggling behind the scene, as if
Osorio had taken him unawares, and was hurrying him down the Precipice.
An exclamation or even groans would add still more to the interest of
the scene.' MS. III erased.
[152-234] om. Remorse. vide _ante_ The Foster-Mother's Tale: a Dramatic
Fragment, pp. 182-4.
[Between 152 and 246:]
SCENE II
_The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle with the iron gate
of a dungeon visible._
_Teresa._ Heart-chilling Superstition! thou canst glaze
Ev'n Pity's eye with her own frozen tear.
In vain I urge the tortures that await him:
Even Selma, reverend guardian of my childhood,
My second mother, shuts her heart against me!
Well, I have won from her what most imports
The present need, this secret of the dungeon
Known only to herself.--A Moor! a Sorcerer!
No, I have faith, that nature ne'er permitted
Baseness to wear a form so noble. True,
I doubt not, that Ordonio had suborned him
To act some part in some unholy fraud;
As little doubt, that for some unknown purpose
He hath baffled his suborner, terror-struck him,
And that Ordonio meditates revenge!
But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him,
And learn if haply he knew aught of Alvar.
_Enter VALDEZ._
_Valdez._ Still sad?--and gazing at the massive door
Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of,
Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it
When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats.
Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee!
A stately man, and eloquent and tender--
Who then need wonder if a lady sighs
Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans--
_Teresa._ The horror of their ghastly punishments
Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion,
That I should feel too little for mine enemy,
If it were possible I could feel more,
Even though the dearest inmates of our household
Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are--
Remorse.
[155] _Maria._ 'Tis strange] _Teresa._ 'Tis said MS. III.
[157] _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.
[165-6]
O honor'd Selma! this strange man has left me
Wilder'd with stranger fancies than yon moon
Corr. in MS. III.
[169]
She gazes idly!
_Ter._ But that entrance, Selma
Corr. in MS. III.
[170] _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.
[171] _Maria_] _Teresa._ _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.
[172] Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.
[180] Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[201] Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[212] And once as he was working near this dungeon Corr. in MS. III.
[221] _Maria_] _Teresa_ Corr. in MS. III.
[226] Leoni's] Sesina's Corr. in MS. III.
[228] Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.
[Between 248 and 255:]
What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us!
I dare not listen to you.
_Teresa._ My honoured lord,
These were my Alvar's lessons, and whene'er
I bend me o'er his portrait, I repeat them,
As if to give a voice to the mute image.
_Valdez._ ----We have mourned for
Alvar.
Of his sad fate there now remains no doubt.
Have I no other son?
Remorse.
[256] That low imposture! That mysterious picture! Remorse. it] this
Remorse.
[Between 262 and 268:]
O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.--
I would call up before thine eyes the image
Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born!
His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead,
His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips!
That spiritual and almost heavenly light
In his commanding eye--his mien heroic,
Virtue's own native heraldry! to man
Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel.
Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread
Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears,
Flash'd through by indignation, he bewail'd
The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots,
Oh, what a grief was there--for joy to envy,
Or gaze upon enamour'd!
O my father!
Recall that morning when we knelt together,
And thou didst bless our loves! O even now,
Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him,
As at that moment he rose up before thee,
Stately, with beaming look! Place, place beside him
Ordonio's dark perturbed countenance!
Then bid me (Oh thou could'st not) bid me turn
From him, the joy, the triumph of our kind!
To take in exchange that brooding man, who never
Lifts up his eye from the earth, unless to scowl.
Remorse.
[274-86] (Thou shalt not stay . . . companion) om. Remorse.
[Between 274-87:]
_Teresa._ O grief! to hear
Hateful intreaties from a voice we love!
_Enter a PEASANT and presents a letter to VALDEZ._
_Valdez (reading it)._ 'He dares not venture hither!' Why what can
this mean?
'Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition,
That watch around my gates, should intercept him;
But he conjures me, that without delay
I hasten to him--for my own sake entreats me
To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd--
He will reveal a secret, the joy of which
Will even outweigh the sorrow.'--Why what can this be?
Perchance it is some Moorish stratagem,
To have in me a hostage for his safety.
Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants!
I will go thither--let them arm themselves. [_Exit VALDEZ._
_Teresa (alone)._ The moon is high in heaven, and all is hush'd.
Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear
A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night,
As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep.
O Alvar! Alvar! &c.
Remorse.
[After 276] And all his wealth perhaps come to the Church MS. III.
erased.
[289] evening-tide] eventide Remorse.
[296-334] om. Remorse.
[After 296]
[_A pause._
And this majestic Moor, seems he not one
Who oft and long communing with my Alvar,
Hath drunk in kindred lustre from his presence,
And guides me to him with reflected light?
What if in yon dark dungeon coward treachery
Be groping for him with envenomed poniard--
Hence womanish fears, traitors to love and duty--
I'll free him. [_Exit TERESA._
SCENE III
_The mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress._
_Alhadra._ Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem
As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold;
{ The hanging Act V, l. 41.
{ The flower-like woods, most lovely in decay,
The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands,
Lie in the silent moonshine: and the owl,
(Strange! very strange!) the scritch-owl only wakes!
Sole voice, sole eye of all this world of beauty!
Unless, perhaps, she sing her screeching song
To a herd of wolves, that skulk athirst for blood.
Why such a thing am I?--Where are these men?
I need the sympathy of human faces,
To beat away this deep contempt for all things,
Which quenches my revenge. O! would to Alla,
The raven, or the sea-mew, were appointed
To bring me food! or rather that my soul
Could drink in life from the universal air!
It were a lot divine in some small skiff
Along some Ocean's boundless solitude,
To float for ever with a careless course,
And think myself the only being alive.
[_Vide post Osorio_, Act V, ll. 39-56.]
My children!--Isidore's children!--Son of Valdez,
This hath new strung mine arm. Thou coward tyrant!
To stupify a woman's heart with anguish,
Till she forgot--even that she was a mother!
[_She fixes her eye on the earth. Then drop in one after
another, from different parts of the stage, a
considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish
garments and Moorish armour. They form a circle at
a distance round ALHADRA, and remain silent till
NAOMI enters._
Remorse.
[337] the] these Remorse.
[342] _spell_-blasted] spell-blasted Remorse.
[345] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[348] _All_] _All Morescoes._ Remorse.
[352] _One to Another_] _One Morescoe (to another)._ Remorse.
[353] Murder? Not murder'd? Remorse.
[After 353] [Stage-direction] _Alhadra (to Naomi, who advances from the
circle)._ Remorse.
[359] house] sons MS. III. Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez
Remorse.
[After 359] _Enter_ Warville. MS. III.
[_A pause._
Ordonio was your chieftain's murderer
Remorse.
[360-70] Erased MS. III.
[360-75] om. Remorse.
[373-80] Erased MS. III.
[375] Stage-direction _All (kneeling)._ Remorse.
[After 375] _Alhadra._ This night your chieftain armed himself Remorse.
[Affixed to 375] (not in S. T. C.'s handwriting) and erased:
_Naomi._
Proceed, proceed, Alhadra.
_Alhadra._
Yestermorning
He stood before our house, startful and gloomy,
And stirr'd up fierce dispute with Ferdinand,
I saw him when the vehement Gripe of Conscience
Had wrenched his features to a visible agony.
When he was gone Ferdinand sighed out 'Villain'
And spake no other word.
_Warville (mournfully)._
The brother of Albert.
MS. III erased.
[_Note._--Warville was a character introduced into the deleted passage
360-70, the name being always altered by S. T. C. to 'Maurice'.]
[376-84] om. Remorse.
[384] its] their Corr. in MS. III.
[386] _there_] there Remorse.
[388] a pause] a while Remorse.
[397] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[399] A brief while] A little while Corr. in MS. III erased.
[402] God] Heaven Remorse.
[404] _light_] light Remorse.
[405] _hideous_] hideous Remorse.
[407] while] whilst Remorse.
[409] Erased MS. III. _Naomi._ Comfort her, Alla! Remorse.
[414] go] onward Remorse.
[421] his] the MS. III.
[After 425
_All._ Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following her._
Remorse.
ACT THE FIFTH
SCENE THE FIRST.--_The Sea Shore._
_NAOMI and a_ Moresco.
_Moresco._ This was no time for freaks of useless vengeance.
_Naomi._ True! but Francesco, the Inquisitor,
Thou know'st the bloodhound--'twas a strong temptation.
And when they pass'd within a mile of his house,
We could not curb them in. They swore by Mahomet, 5
It were a deed of treachery to their brethren
To sail from Spain and leave that man alive.
_Moresco._ Where is Alhadra?
_Naomi._ She moved steadily on
Unswerving from the path of her resolve.
Yet each strange object fix'd her eye: for grief 10
Doth love to dally with fantastic shapes,
And smiling, like a sickly moralist,
Gives some resemblance of her own concerns
To the straws of chance, and things inanimate.
I seek her here; stand thou upon the watch. 15
[_Exit_ Moresco.
_Naomi (looking wistfully to the distance)._ Stretch'd on the rock!
It must be she--Alhadra!
[_ALHADRA rises from the rock, and advances slowly,
as if musing._
_Naomi._ Once more, well met! what ponder'st thou so deeply?
_Alhadra._ I scarce can tell thee! For my many thoughts
Troubled me, till with blank and naked mind
I only listen'd to the dashing billows. 20
It seems to me, I could have closed my eyes
And wak'd without a dream of what has pass'd;
So well it counterfeited quietness,
This wearied heart of mine!
_Naomi._ 'Tis thus by nature
Wisely ordain'd, that so excess of sorrow 25
Might bring its own cure with it.
_Alhadra._ Would to Heaven
That it had brought its last and certain cure!
That ruin in the wood.
_Naomi._ It is a place
Of ominous fame; but 'twas the shortest road,
Nor could we else have kept clear of the village. 30
Yet some among us, as they scal'd the wall,
Mutter'd old rhyming prayers.
_Alhadra._ On that broad wall
I saw a skull; a poppy grew beside it,
There was a ghastly solace in the sight!
_Naomi._ I mark'd it not, and in good truth the night-bird 35
Curdled my blood, even till it prick'd the heart.
Its note comes dreariest in the fall of the year:
[_Looking round impatiently._
Why don't they come? I will go forth and meet them.
[_Exit NAOMI._
_Alhadra (alone)._ The hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn
seem'd
As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold, 40
The hanging woods, most lovely in decay,
The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands,
Lay in the silent moonshine; and the owl,
(Strange! very strange!) the scritch owl only wak'd,
Sole voice, sole eye of all that world of beauty! 45
Why such a thing am I! Where are these men?
I need the sympathy of human faces
To beat away this deep contempt for all things
Which quenches my revenge. Oh!--would to Alla
The raven and the sea-mew were appointed 50
To bring me food, or rather that my soul
Could drink in life from the universal air!
It were a lot divine in some small skiff,
Along some ocean's boundless solitude,
To float for ever with a careless course, 55
And think myself the only being alive! [_NAOMI re-enters._
_Naomi._ Thy children----
_Alhadra._ Children? _Whose_ children?
[_A pause--then fiercely._
Son of Velez,
This hath new-strung my arm! Thou coward tyrant,
To stupify a woman's heart with anguish, 60
Till she forgot even that she was a mother!
[_A noise--enter a part of the_ Morescoes; _and from the
opposite side of the stage a_ Moorish Seaman.
_Moorish Seaman._ The boat is on the shore, the vessel waits.
Your wives and children are already stow'd;
I left them prattling of the Barbary coast,
Of Mosks, and minarets, and golden crescents. 65
Each had her separate dream; but all were gay,
Dancing, in thought, to finger-beaten timbrels!
[_Enter MAURICE and the rest of the_ Morescoes
_dragging in FRANCESCO._
_Francesco._ O spare me, spare me! only spare my life!
_An Old Man._ All hail, Alhadra! O that thou hadst heard him
When first we dragg'd him forth! [_Then turning to the band._
Here! in her presence---- 70
[_He advances with his sword as about to kill him. MAURICE
leaps in and stands with his drawn sword between
FRANCESCO and the_ Morescoes.
_Maurice._ Nay, but ye shall not!
_Old Man._ Shall not? Hah? Shall not?
_Maurice._ What, an unarm'd man?
A man that never wore a sword? A priest?
It is unsoldierly! I say, ye shall not!
_Old Man (turning to the bands)._ He bears himself most like an
insolent Spaniard! 75
_Maurice._ And ye like slaves, that have destroy'd their master,
But know not yet what freedom means; how holy
And just a thing it is! He's a fallen foe!
Come, come, forgive him!
_All._ No, by Mahomet!
_Francesco._ O mercy, mercy! talk to them of mercy! 80
_Old Man._ Mercy to thee! No, no, by Mahomet!
_Maurice._ Nay, Mahomet taught mercy and forgiveness.
I am sure he did!
_Old Man._ Ha! Ha! Forgiveness! Mercy!
_Maurice._ If he did not, he needs it for himself!
_Alhadra._ Blaspheming fool! the law of Mahomet 85
Was given by him, who framed the soul of man.
This the best proof--it fits the soul of man!
Ambition, glory, thirst of enterprize,
The deep and stubborn purpose of revenge,
With all the boiling revelries of pleasure-- 90
These grow in the heart, yea, intertwine their roots
With its minutest fibres! And that Being
Who made us, laughs to scorn the lying faith,
Whose puny precepts, like a wall of sand,
Would stem the full tide of predestined Nature! 95
_Naomi (who turns toward Francesco with his sword)._ Speak!
_All (to Alhadra)._ Speak!
_Alhadra._ Is the murderer of your chieftain dead?
Now as God liveth, who hath suffer'd him
To make my children orphans, none shall die
Till I have seen his blood!
Off with him to the vessel!
[_A part of the_ Morescoes _hurry him off._
_Alhadra._ The Tyger, that with unquench'd cruelty, 100
Still thirsts for blood, leaps on the hunter's spear
With prodigal courage. 'Tis not so with man.
_Maurice._ It is not so, remember that, my friends!
Cowards are cruel, and the cruel cowards.
_Alhadra._ Scatter yourselves, take each a separate way, 105
And move in silence to the house of Velez. [_Exeunt._
SCENE.--_A Dungeon._
_ALBERT (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds._
_Albert._ And this place my forefathers made for men!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us--
Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty? 110
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt till changed to poison, 115
They break out on him like a loathsome plague-spot!
Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks--
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces at the clanking hour 120
Seen thro' the steaming vapours of his dungeon
By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform'd
By sights of ever more deformity! 125
With other ministrations thou, O Nature!
Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, 130
Till he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But bursting into tears wins back his way,
His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz'd 135
By the benignant touch of love and beauty.
[_A noise at the dungeon-door. It opens, and OSORIO
enters with a goblet in his hand._
_Osorio._ Hail, potent wizard! In my gayer mood
I pour'd forth a libation to old Pluto;
And as I brimm'd the bowl, I thought of thee!
_Albert (in a low voice)._ I have not summon'd up my heart to
give 140
That pang, which I must give thee, son of Velez!
_Osorio (with affected levity)._ Thou hast conspired against my
life and honour,
Hast trick'd me foully; yet I hate thee not!
Why should I hate thee? This same world of ours--
It is a puddle in a storm of rain, 145
And we the air-bladders, that course up and down,
And joust and tilt in merry tournament,
And when one bubble runs foul of another,
[_Waving his hand at ALBERT._
The lesser must needs break!
_Albert._ I see thy heart!
There is a frightful glitter in thine eye, 150
Which doth betray thee. Crazy-conscienc'd man,
This is the gaiety of drunken anguish,
Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt,
And quell each human feeling!
_Osorio._ Feeling! feeling!
The death of a man--the breaking of a bubble. 155
'Tis true, I cannot sob for such misfortunes!
But faintness, cold, and hunger--curses on me
If willingly I e'er inflicted them!
Come, share the beverage--this chill place demands it.
Friendship and wine! [_OSORIO proffers him the goblet._
_Albert._ Yon insect on the wall, 160
Which moves this way and that its hundred legs,
Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft,
It were an infinitely curious thing!
But it has life, Osorio! life and thought;
And by the power of its miraculous will 165
Wields all the complex movements of its frame
Unerringly, to pleasurable ends!
Saw I that insect on this goblet's brink,
I would remove it with an eager terror.
_Osorio._ What meanest thou?
_Albert._ There's poison in the wine. 170
_Osorio._ Thou hast guess'd well. There's poison in the wine.
Shall we throw dice, which of us two shall drink it?
For one of us must die!
_Albert._ Whom dost thou think me?
_Osorio._ The accomplice and sworn friend of Ferdinand.
_Albert._ Ferdinand! Ferdinand! 'tis a name I know not. 175
_Osorio._ Good! good! that lie! by Heaven! it has restor'd me.
Now I am thy master! Villain, thou shalt drink it,
Or die a bitterer death.
_Albert._ What strange solution
Hast thou found out to satisfy thy fears,
And drug them to unnatural sleep?
[_ALBERT takes the goblet, and with a sigh throws it
on the ground._
_My_ master! 180
_Osorio._ Thou mountebank!
_Albert._ Mountebank and villain!
What then art thou? For shame, put up thy sword!
What boots a weapon in a wither'd arm?
I fix mine eye upon thee, and thou tremblest!
I speak--and fear and wonder crush thy rage, 185
And turn it to a motionless distraction!
Thou blind self-worshipper! thy pride, thy cunning,
Thy faith in universal villainy,
Thy shallow sophisms, thy pretended scorn
For all thy human brethren--out upon them! 190
What have they done for thee? Have they given thee peace?
Cured thee of starting in thy sleep? or made
The darkness pleasant, when thou wakest at midnight?
Art happy when alone? can'st walk by thyself
With even step, and quiet cheerfulness? 195
Yet, yet thou mayst be saved.
_Osorio (stupidly reiterating the word)._ Saved? saved?
_Albert._ One pang--
Could I call up one pang of true remorse!
_Osorio._ He told me of the babe, that prattled to him,
His fatherless little ones! Remorse! remorse!
Where gott'st thou that fool's word? Curse on remorse! 200
Can it give up the dead, or recompact
A mangled body--mangled, dash'd to atoms!
Not all the blessings of an host of angels
Can blow away a desolate widow's curse;
And tho' thou spill thy heart's blood for atonement, 205
It will not weigh against an orphan's tear.
_Albert (almost overcome by his feelings)._ But Albert----
_Osorio._ Ha! it
chokes thee in the throat,
Even thee! and yet, I pray thee, speak it out.
Still Albert! Albert! Howl it in mine ear!
Heap it, like coals of fire, upon my heart! 210
And shoot it hissing through my brain!
_Albert._ Alas--
That day, when thou didst leap from off the rock
Into the waves, and grasp'd thy sinking brother,
And bore him to the strand, then, son of Velez!
How sweet and musical the name of Albert! 215
Then, then, Osorio! he was dear to thee,
And thou wert dear to him. Heaven only knows
How very dear thou wert! Why didst thou hate him?
O Heaven! how he would fall upon thy neck,
And weep forgiveness!
_Osorio._ Spirit of the dead! 220
Methinks I know thee! Ha!--my brain turns wild
At its own dreams--off--off, fantastic shadow!
_Albert (seizing his hand)._ I fain would tell thee what I am,
but dare not!
_Osorio (retiring from him)._ Cheat, villain, traitor! whatsoe'er
thou be
I fear thee, man!
[_He starts, and stands in the attitude of listening._
And is _this_ too my madness? 225
_Albert._ It is the step of one that treads in fear
Seeking to cheat the echo.
_Osorio._ It approaches--
This nook shall hide me.
[_MARIA enters from a plank which slips to and fro._
_Maria._ I have put aside
The customs and the terrors of a woman,
To work out thy escape. Stranger! begone, 230
And only tell me what thou know'st of Albert.
[_ALBERT takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it
her with unutterable tenderness._
_Albert._ Maria! _my_ Maria!
_Maria._ Do not mock me.
This is my face--and thou--ha! who art thou?
Nay, I will call thee Albert!
[_She falls upon his neck. OSORIO leaps out from the
nook with frantic wildness, and rushes towards
ALBERT with his sword. MARIA gapes at him, as
one helpless with terror, then leaves ALBERT,
and flings herself upon OSORIO, arresting his
arm._
_Maria._ Madman, stop!
_Albert (with majesty and tenderness)._ Does then this thin
disguise impenetrably 235
Hide Albert from thee? Toil and painful wounds,
And long imprisonment in unwholesome dungeons,
Have marr'd perhaps all trace and lineament
Of what I was! But chiefly, chiefly, brother!
My anguish for thy guilt. Spotless Maria, 240
I thought thee guilty too! Osorio, brother!
Nay, nay, thou _shalt_ embrace me!
_Osorio (drawing back and gazing at Albert with a countenance
expressive at once of awe and terror)._ Touch me not!
Touch not pollution, Albert!--I will die!
[_He attempts to fall on his sword. ALBERT and MARIA
struggle with him._
_Albert._ We will invent some tale to save your honour.
Live, live, Osorio!
_Maria._ You may yet be happy. 245
_Osorio (looking at Maria)._ O horror! Not a thousand years in
heaven
Could recompose this miserable heart,
Or make it capable of one brief joy.
Live! live!--why yes! 'Twere well to live with you--
For is it fit a villain should be proud? 250
My brother! I will kneel to you, my brother!
[_Throws himself at ALBERT'S feet._
Forgive me, Albert!--_Curse_ me with forgiveness!
_Albert._ Call back thy soul, my brother! and look round thee.
Now is the time for greatness. Think that Heaven----
_Maria._ O mark his eye! he hears not what you say. 255
_Osorio (pointing at vacancy)._ Yes, mark his eye! there's
fascination in it.
Thou said'st thou didst not know him. That is he!
He comes upon me!
_Albert (lifting his eye to heaven)._ Heal, O heal him, Heaven!
_Osorio._ Nearer and nearer! And I cannot stir!
Will no one hear these stifled groans, and wake me? 260
He would have died to save me, and I kill'd him--
A husband and a father!
_Maria._ Some secret poison
Drinks up his spirit!
_Osorio (fiercely recollecting himself)._ Let the eternal Justice
Prepare my punishment in the obscure world.
I will not bear to live--to live! O agony! 265
And be myself alone, my own sore torment!
[_The doors of the dungeon are burst open with a crash.
ALHADRA, MAURICE, and the band of_ Morescoes
_enter._
_Alhadra (pointing at Osorio)._ Seize first that man!
[_The_ Moors _press round._
_Albert (rushing in among them)._ Draw thy sword, Maurice, and
defend my brother.
[_A scuffle, during which they disarm MAURICE._
_Osorio._ Off, ruffians! I have flung away my sword.
Woman, my life is thine! to thee I give it. 270
Off! he that touches me with his hand of flesh,
I'll rend his limbs asunder! I have strength
With this bare arm to scatter you like ashes!
_Alhadra._ My husband----
_Osorio._ Yes! I murder'd him most foully.
_Albert (throws himself on the earth)._ O horrible!
_Alhadra._ Why didst thou
leave his children? 275
Demon! thou shouldst have sent thy dogs of hell
To lap _their_ blood. Then, then, I might have harden'd
My soul in misery, and have had comfort.
I would have stood far off, quiet tho' dark,
And bade the race of men raise up a mourning 280
For the deep horror of a desolation
Too great to be one soul's particular lot!
Brother of Zagri! let me lean upon thee.
[_Struggling to suppress her anguish._
The time is not yet come for woman's anguish--
I have not seen his blood. Within an hour 285
Those little ones will crowd around and ask me,
Where is our father? [_Looks at OSORIO._
I shall curse thee then!
Wert thou in heaven, my curse would pluck thee thence!
_Maria._ See--see! he doth repent. I kneel to thee.
Be merciful!
[_MARIA kneels to her. ALHADRA regards her face wistfully._
_Alhadra._ Thou art young and innocent; 290
'Twere merciful to kill thee! Yet I will not.
And for thy sake none of this house shall perish,
Save only he.
_Maria._ That aged man, his father!
_Alhadra (sternly)._ Why had he such a son?
[_The_ Moors _press on._
_Maria (still kneeling, and wild with affright)._ Yet spare his
life!
They must not murder him!
_Alhadra._ And is it then 295
An enviable lot to waste away
With inward wounds, and like the spirit of chaos
To wander on disquietly thro' the earth,
Cursing all lovely things? to let him live--
It were a deep revenge!
_All the band cry out_--No mercy! no mercy! 300
[_NAOMI advances with the sword towards OSORIO._
_Alhadra._ Nay, bear him forth! Why should this innocent maid
Behold the ugliness of death?
_Osorio (with great majesty)._ O woman!
I have stood silent like a slave[596:1] before thee,
That I might taste the wormwood and the gall,
And satiate this self-accusing spirit 305
With bitterer agonies than death can give.
[_The_ Moors _gather round him in a crowd, and pass off
the stage._
_Alhadra._ I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast ordain'd it wisely,
That still extremes bring their own cure. That point
In misery which makes the oppressed man
Regardless of his own life, makes him too 310
Lord of the oppressor's! Knew I an hundred men
Despairing, but not palsied by despair,
This arm should shake the kingdoms of this world;
The deep foundations of iniquity
Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them; 315
The strong holds of the cruel men should fall,
Their temples and their mountainous towers should fall;
Till desolation seem'd a beautiful thing,
And all that were and had the spirit of life
Sang a new song to him who had gone forth 320
Conquering and still to conquer!
THE END[597:1]
FOOTNOTES:
[596:1] In _MS. II_ 'worm' has the place of 'slave', which is the word
in _MS. I_.
[597:1] On a blank page of _MS. III_ some one, probably Bowles, has
written:--'Upon the whole a very masterly production, and with judicious
contractments might be rendered an interesting Drama on the stage.'
LINENOTES:
[1-106] om. Remorse.
[39] The hanging] Yon pendent Corr. in MS. III.
[41]
hanging] { pendent
{ flowerlike
Corr. in MS. III.
[45] that] this Corr. in MS. III.
[Affixed to 57] _Naomi, the second in command to Isidore, enters in
haste._ MS. III erased.
[After 61] stage-direction erased MS. III.
[62] _Moorish Seaman_] _Naomi_ Corr. in MS. III.
[100-106] Erased MS. III.
[107 foll.] _vide ante_, 'The Dungeon,' p. 185.
[121] steaming] steam and Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[125] ever more] _evermore_ Remorse.
[After 136]
I am chill and weary! Yon rude bench of stone,
In that dark angle, the sole resting-place!
But the self-approving mind is its own light,
And Life's best warmth still radiates from the heart
Where love sits brooding, and an honest purpose.
_Enter TERESA._ [_Retires out of sight._
Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
Stage-direction affixed to 136 and 136-9 erased in MS. III: om. Remorse.
[Between 136 and 137:]
I am chill and weary, &c. . . . honest purpose.
_Enter TERESA with a taper._
_Teresa._ It has chilled my very life--my own voice scares me;
Yet when I hear it not I seem to lose
The substance of my being--my strongest grasp
Sends inwards but weak witness that I am.
I seek to cheat the echo.--How the half sounds
Blend with this strangled light! Is he not here-- [_Looking round._
O for one human face here--but to see
One human face here to sustain me.--Courage!
It is but my own fear! The life within me,
It sinks and wavers like this cone of flame,
Beyond which I scarce dare look onward! Oh!
If I faint? If this inhuman den should be
At once my death-bed and my burial vault?
[_Faintly screams as ALVAR emerges from the recess._
_Alvar (rushes towards her, and catches her as she is falling)._ O
gracious heaven! it is, it is Teresa!
Shall I reveal myself? The sudden shock
Of rapture will blow out this spark of life,
And joy complete what terror has begun.
O ye impetuous beatings here, be still!
Teresa, best beloved! pale, pale, and cold!
Her pulse doth flutter! Teresa! my Teresa!
_Teresa (recovering)._ I heard a voice; but often in my dreams
I hear that voice! and wake and try--and try--
To hear it waking! but I never could--
And 'tis so now--even so! Well! he is dead--
Murdered perhaps! And I am faint, and feel
As if it were no painful thing to die!
_Alvar._ Believe it not, sweet maid! Believe it not,
Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture
Framed by a guilty wretch.
_Teresa._ Ha! Who art thou?
_Alvar._ Suborned by his brother--
_Teresa._ Didst thou murder him?
And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man,
I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee!
_Alvar._ Ordonio--he----
_Teresa._ If thou didst murder him--
His spirit ever at the throne of God
Asks mercy for thee: prays for mercy for thee,
With tears in Heaven!
_Alvar._ Alvar was not murdered.
Be calm! be calm, sweet maid!
_Teresa._ Nay, nay, but tell me! [_A pause._
O 'tis lost again!
This dull confused pain-- [_A pause._
Mysterious man!
Methinks I can not fear thee: for thine eye
Doth swim with love and pity--Well! Ordonio--
Oh my foreboding heart! And he suborned thee,
And thou didst spare his life? Blessings shower on thee,
As many as the drops twice counted o'er
In the fond faithful heart of his Teresa!
_Alvar._ I can endure no more. The Moorish sorcerer
Exists but in the stain upon his face.
That picture----
_Teresa._ Ha! speak on!
_Alvar._ Beloved Teresa!
It told but half the truth. O let this portrait
Tell all--that Alvar lives--that he is here!
Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar.
[_Takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her._
_Teresa (receiving the portrait)._ The same--it is the same. Ah! Who
art thou?
Nay, I will call thee, Alvar! [_She falls on his neck._
_Alvar._ O joy unutterable!
But hark! a sound as of removing bars
At the dungeon's outer door. A brief, brief while
Conceal thyself, my love! It is Ordonio.
For the honour of our race, for our dear father;
O for himself too (he is still my brother)
Let me recall him to his nobler nature,
That he may wake as from a dream of murder!
O let me reconcile him to himself,
Open the sacred source of penitent tears,
And be once more his own beloved Alvar.
_Teresa._ O my all virtuous love! I fear to leave thee
With that obdurate man.
_Alvar._ Thou dost not leave me!
But a brief while retire into the darkness:
O that my joy could spread its sunshine round thee!
_Teresa._ The sound of thy voice shall be my music!
Alvar! my Alvar! am I sure I hold thee?
Is it no dream? thee in my arms, my Alvar! [_Exit._
[_A noise at the dungeon door. It opens, and ORDONIO enters,
with a goblet in his hand._
Remorse.
[139] of] on Remorse.
[140-1] and stage-direction before 142 om. Remorse.
[145] 'Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain Remorse.
[148] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[149] lesser must needs] weaker needs must Remorse.
[151-2]
Inly-tortured man,
This is the revelry of a drunken anguish
Remorse.
[Before 160] [_ORDONIO proffers the goblet._ Remorse.
[160] Friendship and wine om. Remorse.
[161] legs] limbs Remorse.
[164] life and thought] life, enjoyment Remorse.
[168] brink] brim Remorse.
[169] I would remove it with an anxious pity Remorse.
[171-2]
Thou hast guessed right; there's poison in the wine.
There's poison in't--which of us two shall drink it?
Remorse.
[Between 174 and 176:]
_Alvar._ I know him not.
And yet methinks, I have heard the name but lately.
Means he the husband of the Moorish woman?
Isidore? Isidore?
Remorse.
[175] om. Remorse.
[180] Stage-direction [_ALVAR takes the goblet, and throws it to the
ground._ Remorse. _My_] My Remorse.
[196] Stage-direction om. Remorse.]
[198] babe] babes Remorse.
[207] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[223] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[224] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[225-35] om. Remorse.
[Between 225 and 235]
_Teresa (rushing out and falling on ALVAR'S neck)._
Ordonio! 'tis thy brother!
[_ORDONIO runs upon ALVAR with his sword. TERESA flings
herself on ORDONIO and arrests his arm._
Stop, madman, stop!
Remorse.
[235] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[238] trace] trial corr. in MS. III; trait Remorse.
[240-41] Spotless . . . guilty too om. Remorse.
[242] _shalt_] shalt Remorse.
[After 242] stage-direction (_Drawing back and gazing at Alvar_)
Remorse.
[Between 243 and 245]
_Alvar._ We will find means to save your honour. Live,
Oh live, Ordonio! for our father's sake!
Spare his gray hairs!
_Teresa._ And you may yet be happy
_Ordonio._ O horror, &c.
Remorse.
[After 243] _struggle with_] _prevent_ Remorse.
[After 251] [_Throws himself, &c._] _Kneeling_ Remorse.
[252] _Curse_] Curse Remorse.
[253] my brother] Ordonio Remorse.
[256] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[258] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[263] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[After 266]
[_The doors of the dungeon are broken open, and in
rush ALHADRA, and the band of_ Morescoes.
_Alh._ Seize first that man!
[_ALVAR presses onward to defend ORDONIO._
_Ord._ Off, &c.
Remorse.
[274] _Alvar and Teresa._ O horrible Remorse.
[277] _their_] their Remorse.
[283] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[287] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[Between 288 and 304:]
_Teresa._ He doth repent! See, see, I kneel to thee!
O let him live! That aged man, his father----
_Alhadra._ Why had he such a son?
[_Shouts from the distance of_, Rescue! Rescue! Alvar!
Alvar! _and the voice of VALDEZ heard._
Rescue?--and Isidore's spirit unavenged?--
The deed be mine! [_Suddenly stabs ORDONIO._
Now take my Life!
_Ordonio (staggering from the wound)._ Atonement!
_Alvar (while with TERESA supporting ORDONIO)._ Arm of avenging Heaven
Thou hast snatched from me my most cherished hope--
But go! my word was pledged to thee.
_Ordonio._ Away!
Brave not my father's rage! I thank thee! Thou--
[_Then turning his eyes languidly to ALVAR._
She hath avenged the blood of Isidore!
I stood in silence like a slave before her
Remorse.
[290-303] om. Remorse.
[Affixed to 300] _ALHADRA snatches it from him and suddenly stabs
ORDONIO. ALVAR rushes towards him through the_ Moors, _and catches him
in his arms, &c._ MS. III.
[303-4]
'Tis well! thou hast avenged thyself
I have stood in silence like a slave before thee
Corr. in MS. III.
[305] spirit] heart Remorse.
[After 306]
Forgive me, Alvar! O couldst thou forgive thyself.
Corr. in MS. III.
Forgive me, Alvar!
Oh!--couldst thou forget me! [_Dies._
[_ALVAR and TERESA bend over the body of ORDONIO._
_Alh._ (_to the_ Moors). I thank thee, Heaven! &c.
Remorse.
_Shouts of_ Alvar! _Alvar!_ _Noises heard; a_ Moor _rushes in._
_Moor._ We are surprised, away! away! the instant--
The country is in arms. The old man heads them
And still cries out, 'My son! My son is living'
Haste to the shore! They come the opposite road.
_ALHADRA (to ALVAR)._
Thou then art Alvar! to my aid and safety
Thy word stands pledged.
_Alvar._ Arm of avenging Heaven!
My word stands pledged nor shall it be retracted.
(_The_ Moors _surround ALHADRA) and force her off. The stage
fills with armed peasants. ALI and VALDEZ at their
head. VALDEZ rushes into ALVAR'S arms and the Curtain
drops._
[Alternative ending in S. T. C.'s handwriting affixed to lines 307-21,
MS. III]
[320] him] her Remorse.
[After 321]
[_ALHADRA hurries off with the_ Moors; _the stage fills
with armed_ Peasants _and_ Servants, _ZULIMEZ and
VALDEZ at their head. VALDEZ rushes into ALVAR'S
arms._
_Alvar._ Turn not thy face that way, my father! hide,
Oh hide it from his eye! Oh let thy joy
Flow in unmingled stream through thy first blessing.
[_both kneel to VALDEZ._
_Valdez._ My Son! My Alvar! bless, Oh bless him, heaven!
_Teresa._ Me too, my Father?
_Valdez._ Bless, Oh, bless my children!
[_both rise._
_Alvar._ Delights so full, if unalloyed with grief,
Were ominous. In these strange dread events
Just Heaven instructs us with an awful voice,
That Conscience rules us e'en against our choice.
Our inward monitress to guide or warn,
If listened to; but if repelled with scorn,
At length as dire Remorse, she reappears,
Works in our guilty hopes, and selfish fears!
Still bids, Remember! and still cries, Too late!
And while she scares us, goads us to our fate.
Remorse.
THE PICCOLOMINI[598:1]
OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN
A DRAMA
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
It was my intention to have prefixed a Life of Wallenstein to this
translation; but I found that it must either have occupied a space
wholly disproportionate to the nature of the publication, or have been
merely a meagre catalogue of events narrated not more fully than they
already are in the Play itself. The recent translation, likewise, of
Schiller's _History of the Thirty Years' War_ diminished the motives
thereto. In the translation I endeavoured to render my Author literally
wherever I was not prevented by absolute differences of idiom; but I am
conscious that in two or three short passages I have been guilty of
dilating the original; and, from anxiety to give the full meaning, have
weakened the force. In the metre I have availed myself of no other
liberties than those which Schiller had permitted to himself, except the
occasional breaking-up of the line by the substitution of a trochee for
an iambus; of which liberty, so frequent in our tragedies, I find no
instance in these dramas.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
FOOTNOTES:
[598:1] First published in a single octavo volume, 1800: included in
1828, 1829, 1834, and in _Dramatic Works_ (one vol. 8vo) 1852. The
_Piccolomini_ and the _Death of Wallenstein_ were translated from MS.
copies which had been acquired by the Messrs. Longman. The MS. copy of
the original of the _Death of Wallenstein_ is in the possession of Mrs.
Alexander Gillman. The MS. of the copy of the original of the
_Piccolomini_ was at one time in the possession of Mr. Henry R. Mark of
17 Highbury Crescent. A note in Schiller's handwriting, dated 'Jena, 30.
September 1799', attesting the genuineness of the copies, is attached to
either play. The MS. copy of _Wallenstein's Camp_ ('Wallenstein's
Lager'), which Coleridge did not attempt to translate, is not
forthcoming. See two articles by Ferdinand Freiligrath, published in the
_Athenæum_, July 15 and August 31, 1861. See, too, _Die
Wallensteinübersetzung von Samuel T. Coleridge und ihr Deutsches
Original_ . . . vorgelegt von Hans Roscher. Borna-Leipzig, 1905. A copy
of the translation which Macready marked for acting is in the Forster
Library, which forms part of the Victoria and Albert Museum at South
Kensington. See note by J. Dykes Campbell, _P. W._, 1893, p. 649. An
annotated copy (in Coleridge's handwriting) of the translation of the
_Piccolomini_ and the _Death of Wallenstein_, presented by Mr. Shadworth
Hodgson, is in the Library of Rugby School [_MS. R._]. The MS. contents
of this volume are now published for the first time. Coleridge began his
translation of the two plays at No. 21 Buckingham Street, Strand, in
December, 1799, and finished the 'last sheet' at Town End, Grasmere,
April 20, 1800.
'These dramas have two grievous faults: they are prolix in the
particular parts and slow in the general movement. But they have
passion, distinct and diversified character, and they abound in passages
of great moral and poetic beauty.' S. T. COLERIDGE.
'The defects of these dramas are all of an instructive character; for
tho' not the products of genius, like those of Shakespere, they result
from an energetic and thinking mind. (1) The speeches are seldom suited
to characters--the characters are truly diversified and distinctly
conceived--but we learn them from the actions and from the descriptions
given by other characters, or from particular speeches. The brutal Illo
repeatedly talks language which belongs to the Countess, &c. (2)
Astrology (an undramatic superstition because it inspires no terror, and
its foundation of imagination is overbuilt and concealed by its
scientific superstructure, with other cause from the imagery, is thus
unpopular or swallowed up in more general and pleasing associations, as
the Sun and Moon) is made prophetic, and yet treated ludicrously: the
author as philosopher is in compleat discord with himself as Historian.
This is a most grievous fault. (3) The assassins talk ludicrously. This
is a most egregious misimitation of Shakespere--Schiller should not have
attempted tragico-comedy, and none but Shakespere has succeeded. It is
wonderful, however, that Schiller, who had studied Shakespere, should
not have perceived his divine judgment in the management of his
assassins, as in Macbeth. They are fearful and almost pitiable
Beings--not loathsome, ludicrous miscreants. (4) The character of Thekla
= O, the bold Heroine of any novel. Nothing of the Convent, no
superstition, nothing of the Daughter of Wallenstein, nothing that her
past life is represented by. (5) Wallenstein is a finer psychological
than dramatic, and a more dramatic than a tragic character. Shakespere
draws _strength_ as in Richard the Third, and even when he blends
weakness as in Macbeth--yet it is weakness of a specific kind that
leaves the strength in full and fearful energy--but Schiller has drawn
weakness imposing on itself the love of power for the sense of strength
(a fine conception in itself, but not tragic--at least for the principal
character of a long drama).--Hence Wallenstein, with one exception (that
of the Regimental Deputation to him in the Second Part) evaporates in
mock-mysterious speeches. These are the chief defects, I think. On the
other hand, the character of Butler is admirable throughout. Octavio is
very grand, and Max, tho' it may be an easy character to draw, for a man
of thought and lofty feeling--for a man who possesses all the _analoga_
of genius, is yet so delightful, and its moral influence so grand and
salutary, that we must allow it great praise. The childish love-toying
with the glove and Aunt Tertsky in the first act should be omitted.
Certain whole scenes are masterly, and far above anything since the
dramatists of Eliz. & James the first.' _Note on fly-leaf of annotated
copy (MS. R.)._
THE PICCOLOMINI[600:1]
ACT I
SCENE I
_An old Gothic Chamber in the Council House at Pilsen, decorated with
Colours and other War Insignia._
_ILLO with BUTLER and ISOLANI._
_Illo._ Ye have come late--but ye are come! The distance,
Count Isolan, excuses your delay.
_Isolani._ Add this too, that we come not empty-handed.
At Donauwert[600:2] it was reported to us,
A Swedish caravan was on its way 5
Transporting a rich cargo of provision,
Almost six hundred waggons. This my Croats
Plunged down upon and seized, this weighty prize!----
We bring it hither----
_Illo._ Just in time to banquet
The illustrious company assembled here. 10
_Butler._ 'Tis all alive! a stirring scene here!
_Isolani._ Ay!
The very churches are all full of soldiers.
And in the Council-house, too, I observe,
You're settled, quite at home! Well, well! we soldiers
Must shift and suit us in what way we can. 15
_Illo._ We have the Colonels here of thirty regiments.
You'll find Count Tertsky here, and Tiefenbach,
Kolatto, Goetz, Maradas, Hinnersam,
The Piccolomini, both son and father----
You'll meet with many an unexpected greeting 20
From many an old friend and acquaintance. Only
Galas is wanting still, and Altringer.
_Butler._ Expect not Galas.
_Illo._ How so? Do you know----
_Isolani._ Max Piccolomini here?--O bring me to him. 25
I see him yet, ('tis now ten years ago,
We were engaged with Mansfeld hard by Dessau)
I see the youth, in my mind's eye I see him,
Leap his black war-horse from the bridge adown,
And t'ward his father, then in extreme peril, 30
Beat up against the strong tide of the Elbe.
The down was scarce upon his chin! I hear
He has made good the promise of his youth,
And the full hero now is finished in him.
_Illo._ You'll see him yet ere evening. He conducts 35
The Duchess Friedland hither, and the Princess[601:1]
From Carnthen. We expect them here at noon.
_Butler._ Both wife and daughter does the Duke call hither?
He crowds in visitants from all sides.
_Isolani._ Hm!
So much the better! I had framed my mind 40
To hear of nought but warlike circumstance,
Of marches, and attacks, and batteries:
And lo! the Duke provides, that something too
Of gentler sort, and lovely, should be present
To feast our eyes. 45
_Illo (aside to Butler)._ And how came you to know
That the Count Galas joins us not?
_Butler._ Because
He importuned me to remain behind.
_Illo._ And you?--You hold out firmly?
Noble Butler!
_Butler._ After the obligation which the Duke 50
Had laid so newly on me----
_Illo._ I had forgotten
A pleasant duty--Major-General,
I wish you joy!
_Isolani._ What, you mean, of his regiment?
I hear, too, that to make the gift still sweeter, 55
The Duke has given him the very same
In which he first saw service, and since then,
Worked himself, step by step, through each preferment,
From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives
A precedent of hope, a spur of action 60
To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance
An old deserving soldier makes his way.
_Butler._ I am perplexed and doubtful, whether or no
I dare accept this your congratulation.
The Emperor has not yet confirmed the appointment. 65
_Isolani._ Seize it, friend! Seize it! The hand which in that post
Placed you, is strong enough to keep you there,
Spite of the Emperor and his Ministers!
_Illo._ Ay, if we would but so consider it!--
If we would all of us consider it so! 70
The Emperor gives us nothing; from the Duke
Comes all--whate'er we hope, whate'er we have.
_Isolani (to Illo)._ My noble brother! did I tell you how
The Duke will satisfy my creditors?
Will be himself my banker for the future, 75
Make me once more a creditable man!--
And this is now the third time, think of that!
This kingly-minded man has rescued me
From absolute ruin, and restored my honour.
_Illo._ O that his power but kept pace with his wishes! 80
Why, friend! he'd give the whole world to his soldiers.
But at Vienna, brother! here's the grievance!--
What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten
His arm, and, where they can, to clip his pinions.
Then these new dainty requisitions! these, 85
Which this same Questenberg brings hither!--
_Butler._ Ay,
These requisitions of the Emperor,--
I too have heard about them; but I hope
The Duke will not draw back a single inch! 90
_Illo._ Not from his right most surely, unless first
--From office!
_Butler._ Know you aught then? You alarm me.
_Isolani (at the same time with Butler, and in a hurrying voice)._
We should be ruined, every one of us!
_Illo._ No more!
Yonder I see our worthy friend[603:1] approaching
With the Lieutenant-General, Piccolomini.
_Butler._ I fear we shall not go hence as we came. 95
FOOTNOTES:
[600:1] In 1800 the following table of _Dramatis Personae_ was prefixed
to Act I of _The Piccolomini, or The First Part of Wallenstein_. In
1828, 1829, and 1834 this table was omitted.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
_WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces
in The Thirty-years' War._
_OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General._
_MAX PICCOLOMINI, his son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers._
_COUNT TERTSKY, the Commander of several Regiments, and Brother-in-law
of Wallenstein._
_ILLO, Field Marshal, Wallenstein's Confidant._
_ISOLANI, General of the Croats._
_BUTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons._
_TIEFENBACH_, }
_DON MARADAS_, } _Generals under Wallenstein._
_GOETZ_, }
_KOLATTO_, }
_NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de-Camp to Tertsky._
_The War Commissioner, VON QUESTENBERG, Imperial Envoy._
_GENERAL WRANGEL, Swedish Envoy._
_BAPTISTA SENI, Astrologer._
_DUCHESS OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein._
_THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland._
_The COUNTESS TERTSKY, Sister of the Duchess._
_A CORNET._
_Several COLONELS and GENERALS._
_PAGES and ATTENDANTS belonging to Wallenstein._
_ATTENDANTS and HOBÖISTS belonging to Tertsky._
_The MASTER OF THE CELLAR to Count Tertsky._
_VALET DE CHAMBRE of Count Piccolomini._
[600:2] A town about 12 German miles NE. of Ulm.
[601:1] The Dukes in Germany being always reigning powers, their sons
and daughters are entitled Princes and Princesses. _1800_, _1828_,
_1829_.
[603:1] _Spoken with a sneer._ _1800_, _1828_, _1829_.
LINENOTES:
[1] _are_ 1800.
[After 12] [_Casts his eye round._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[24] _Illo (hesitating)._ How so? 1817, 1828, 1829. _you_ 1800, 1828,
1829.
[Before 25] _Isolani (interrupting him)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[45] _Illo (who has been standing in the attitude of meditation, to
Butler, whom he leads a little on one side)._ And how, &c. 1817, 1828,
1829.
[48] _me_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[49]
_Illo (with warmth)._ And you?--You hold out firmly?
[_Grasping his hand with affection._
1817, 1828, 1829.
[70] _all_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 91] _Butler (shocked and confused)._ 1817, 1828, 1829. _aught_
1800, 1828, 1829.
[93] _our worthy friend_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 95] _Butler (shaking his head significantly)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
SCENE II
_Enter OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI and QUESTENBERG._
_Octavio._ Ay, ay! more still! Still more new visitors!
Acknowledge, friend! that never was a camp,
Which held at once so many heads of heroes.
Welcome, Count Isolani!
_Isolani._ My noble brother,
Even now am I arrived; it had been else my duty-- 5
_Octavio._ And Colonel Butler--trust me, I rejoice
Thus to renew acquaintance with a man
Whose worth and services I know and honour.
See, see, my friend!
There might we place at once before our eyes 10
The sum of war's whole trade and mystery--
[_To QUESTENBERG, presenting BUTLER and ISOLANI at the
same time to him._
These two the total sum--Strength and Dispatch.
_Questenberg (to Octavio)._ And lo! betwixt them both experienced
Prudence!
_Octavio (presenting Questenberg to Butler and Isolani)._ The
Chamberlain and War-commissioner Questenberg,
The bearer of the Emperor's behests, 15
The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers,
We honour in this noble visitor.
_Illo._ 'Tis not the first time, noble Minister,
You have shewn our camp this honour.
_Questenberg._ Once before
I stood before these colours. 20
_Illo._ Perchance too you remember where that was.
It was at Znäim[604:1] in Moravia, where
You did present yourself upon the part
Of the Emperor, to supplicate our Duke
That he would straight assume the chief command. 25
_Questenberg._ To supplicate? Nay, noble General!
So far extended neither my commission
(At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal.
_Illo._ Well, well, then--to compel him, if you choose.
I can remember me right well, Count Tilly 30
Had suffered total rout upon the Lech.
Bavaria lay all open to the enemy,
Whom there was nothing to delay from pressing
Onwards into the very heart of Austria.
At that time you and Werdenberg appeared 35
Before our General, storming him with prayers,
And menacing the Emperor's displeasure,
Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness.
_Isolani._ Yes, yes, 'tis comprehensible enough,
Wherefore with your commission of to-day 40
You were not all too willing to remember
Your former one.
_Questenberg._ Why not, Count Isolan?
No contradiction sure exists between them.
It was the urgent business of that time 45
To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand;
And my commission of to-day instructs me
To free her from her good friends and protectors.
_Illo._ A worthy office! After with our blood
We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon, 50
To be swept out of it is all our thanks,
The sole reward of all our hard-won victories.
_Questenberg._ Unless that wretched land be doomed to suffer
Only a change of evils, it must be
Freed from the scourge alike of friend and foe. 55
_Illo._ What? 'Twas a favourable year; the Boors
Can answer fresh demands already.
_Questenberg._ Nay,
If you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds--
_Isolani._ The war maintains the war. Are the Boors ruined,
The Emperor gains so many more new soldiers. 60
_Questenberg._ And is the poorer by even so many subjects.
_Isolani._ Poh! We are all his subjects.
_Questenberg._ Yet with a difference, General! The one fill
With profitable industry the purse,
The others are well skilled to empty it. 65
The sword has made the Emperor poor; the plough
Must reinvigorate his resources.
_Isolani._ Sure!
Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see
[_Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments
of QUESTENBERG._
Good store of gold that still remains uncoined.
_Questenberg._ Thank Heaven! that means have been found out to
hide 70
Some little from the fingers of the Croats.
_Illo._ There! The Stawata and the Martinitz,
On whom the Emperor heaps his gifts and graces,
To the heart-burning of all good Bohemians--
Those minions of court favour, those court harpies, 75
Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens
Driven from their house and home--who reap no harvests
Save in the general calamity--
Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock
The desolation of their country--these, 80
Let these, and such as these, support the war,
The fatal war, which they alone enkindled!
_Butler._ And those state-parasites, who have their feet
So constantly beneath the Emperor's table,
Who cannot let a benefice fall, but they 85
Snap at it with dog's hunger--they, forsooth,
Would pare the soldier's bread, and cross his reckoning!
_Isolani._ My life long will it anger me to think,
How when I went to court seven years ago,
To see about new horses for our regiment, 90
How from one antechamber to another
They dragged me on, and left me by the hour
To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering
Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither
A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour 95
That fall beneath their tables. And, at last,
Whom should they send me but a Capuchin!
Straight I began to muster up my sins
For absolution--but no such luck for me!
This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom 100
I was to treat concerning the army horses:
And I was forced at last to quit the field,
The business unaccomplished. Afterwards
The Duke procured me in three days, what I
Could not obtain in thirty at Vienna. 105
_Questenberg._ Yes, yes! your travelling bills soon found their
way to us:
Too well I know we have still accounts to settle.
_Illo._ War is a violent trade; one cannot always
Finish one's work by soft means; every trifle
Must not be blackened into sacrilege. 110
If we should wait till you, in solemn council,
With due deliberation had selected
The smallest out of four-and-twenty evils,
I'faith, we should wait long.--
'Dash! and through with it!'--That's the better watch-word. 115
Then after come what may come. 'Tis man's nature
To make the best of a bad thing once past.
A bitter and perplexed 'what shall I do?'
Is worse to man than worst necessity.
_Questenberg._ Ay, doubtless, it is true: the Duke does spare us 120
The troublesome task of choosing.
_Butler._ Yes, the Duke
Cares with a father's feelings for his troops;
But how the Emperor feels for us, we see.
_Questenberg._ His cares and feelings all ranks share alike,
Nor will he offer one up to another. 125
_Isolani._ And therefore thrusts he us into the deserts
As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve
His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home.
_Questenberg._ Count, this comparison you make, not I.
_Butler._ Why, were we all the Court supposes us, 130
'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty.
_Questenberg._ You have taken liberty--it was not given you.
And therefore it becomes an urgent duty
To rein it in with curbs.
_Octavio._ My noble friend,
This is no more than a remembrancing 135
That you are now in camp, and among warriors.
The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom.
Could he act daringly, unless he dared
Talk even so? One runs into the other.
The boldness of this worthy officer, [_pointing to BUTLER._ 140
Which now has but mistaken in its mark,
Preserved, when nought but boldness could preserve it,
To the Emperor his capital city, Prague,
In a most formidable mutiny
Of the whole garrison. [_Military music at a distance._ 145
Hah! here they come!
_Illo._ The sentries are saluting them: this signal
Announces the arrival of the Duchess.
_Octavio._ Then my son Max too has returned. 'Twas he
Fetched and attended them from Carnthen hither. 150
_Isolani (to Illo)._ Shall we not go in company to greet them?
_Illo._ Well, let us go.--Ho! Colonel Butler, come.
[_To OCTAVIO._
You'll not forget, that yet ere noon we meet
The noble Envoy at the General's palace.
[_Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO._
FOOTNOTES:
[604:1] A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high road from
Vienna to Prague.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1] _Octavio (still in the distance)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[After 4] [_Approaching nearer._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[17]
We honour in this noble visitor. [_Universal silence._
_Illo (moving towards Questenberg)._ 'Tis not, &c.
1817, 1828, 1829.
[21] _where_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[26] _supplicate_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[30] _compel_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 39] _Isolani (steps up to them)._ _1817_, _1828_, _1829_.
[51] _out_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[58] _you_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[80] _these_ 1800.
[81] _these_ 1800.
[87] _pare_ 1800.
[99] _me_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[100] _This was, &c._ 1800.
[120] _does_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[124] _His_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 129] _Questenberg (with a sneer)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[134] _Octavio (interposing and addressing Questenberg)._ 1817, 1828,
1829.
[138] _act_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 149] _Octavio (to Questenberg)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.
[149] _Max_ 1800.
SCENE III
_QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO._
_Questenberg._ What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio!
What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance!
And were this spirit universal--
_Octavio._ Hm!
You are now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.
_Questenberg._ Where must we seek then for a second host 5
To have the custody of this? That Illo
Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then
This Butler too--he cannot even conceal
The passionate workings of his ill intentions.
_Octavio._ Quickness of temper--irritated pride; 10
'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler.
I know a spell that will soon dispossess
The evil spirit in him.
_Questenberg._ Friend, friend!
O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered
Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There 15
We saw it only with a courtier's eyes,
Eyes dazzled by the splendour of the throne.
We had not seen the War-Chief, the Commander,
The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here,
'Tis quite another thing. 20
Here is no Emperor more--the Duke is Emperor.
Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend!
This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp
Strikes my hopes prostrate.
_Octavio._ Now you see yourself
Of what a perilous kind the office is, 25
Which you deliver to me from the Court.
The least suspicion of the General
Costs me my freedom and my life, and would
But hasten his most desperate enterprise.
_Questenberg._ Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted 30
This madman with the sword, and placed such power
In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse,
Flatly refuse, to obey the Imperial orders.
Friend, he can do 't, and what he can, he will.
And then the impunity of his defiance-- 35
O! what a proclamation of our weakness!
_Octavio._ D'ye think too, he has brought his wife and daughter
Without a purpose hither? Here in camp!
And at the very point of time, in which
We're arming for the war? That he has taken 40
These, the last pledges of his loyalty,
Away from out the Emperor's domains--
This is no doubtful token of the nearness
Of some eruption!
_Questenberg._ How shall we hold footing
Beneath this tempest, which collects itself 45
And threats us from all quarters? The enemy
Of the empire on our borders, now already
The master of the Danube, and still farther,
And farther still, extending every hour!
In our interior the alarum-bells 50
Of insurrection--peasantry in arms----
All orders discontented--and the army,
Just in the moment of our expectation
Of aidance from it--lo! this very army
Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline, 55
Loosened, and rent asunder from the state
And from their sovereign, the blind instrument
Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon
Of fearful power, which at his will he wields!
_Octavio._ Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon, 60
Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds:
And many a resolute, who now appears
Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden
Find in his breast a heart he knew not of,
Let but a single honest man speak out 65
The true name of his crime! Remember, too,
We stand not yet so wholly unprotected.
Counts Altringer and Galas have maintained
Their little army faithful to its duty,
And daily it becomes more numerous. 70
Nor can he take us by surprise: you know,
I hold him all-encompassed by my listeners.
Whate'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing--
No step so small, but instantly I hear it;
Yea, his own mouth discloses it.
_Questenberg._ 'Tis quite 75
Incomprehensible, that he detects not
The foe so near!
_Octavio._ Beware, you do not think,
That I by lying arts, and complaisant
Hypocrisy, have skulked into his graces:
Or with the sustenance of smooth professions 80
Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No--
Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty
Which we all owe our country, and our sovereign,
To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet
Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits! 85
_Questenberg._ It is the visible ordinance of heaven.
_Octavio._ I know not what it is that so attracts
And links him both to me and to my son.
Comrades and friends we always were--long habit,
Adventurous deeds performed in company, 90
And all those many and various incidents
Which store a soldier's memory with affections,
Had bound us long and early to each other--
Yet I can name the day, when all at once
His heart rose on me, and his confidence 95
Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morning
Before the memorable fight at Lützner.
Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out,
To press him to accept another charger.
At distance from the tents, beneath a tree, 100
I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him,
And had related all my bodings to him,
Long time he stared upon me, like a man
Astounded; thereon fell upon my neck,
And manifested to me an emotion 105
That far outstripped the worth of that small service.
Since then his confidence has followed me
With the same pace that mine has fled from him.
_Questenberg._ You lead your son into the secret?
_Octavio._ No!
_Questenberg._ What? and not warn him either what bad hands 110
His lot has placed him in?
_Octavio._ I must perforce
Leave him in wardship to his innocence.
His young and open soul--dissimulation
Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance
Alone can keep alive the cheerful air, 115
The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit,
That make the Duke secure.
_Questenberg._ My honoured friend! most highly do I deem
Of Colonel Piccolomini--yet--if----
Reflect a little----
_Octavio._ I must venture it. 120
Hush!--There he comes!
LINENOTES:
[Before 1] _Questenberg (with signs of aversion and astonishment)._
1817, 1828, 1829.
[13] _him_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
_Questenberg (walking up and down in evident disquiet)._ Friend, &c.
1817, 1828, 1829.
[34] _can_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[59] _he_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[64] knew] wot 1800, 1828, 1829.
[84] _genuine_ 1800.
[95] _rose_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[118] _Questenberg (anxiously)._ My honoured, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE IV
_MAX PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG._
_Max._ Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father!
You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.
_Octavio._ How, Max? Look closer at this visitor;
Attention, Max, an old friend merits--Reverence
Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign. 5
_Max._ Von Questenberg!--Welcome--if you bring with you
Aught good to our head quarters.
_Questenberg (seizing his hand)._ Nay, draw not
Your hand away, Count Piccolomini!
Not on mine own account alone I seized it,
And nothing common will I say therewith. 10
[_Taking the hands of both._
Octavio--Max Piccolomini!
O saviour names, and full of happy omen!
Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria,
While two such stars, with blessed influences
Beaming protection, shine above her hosts. 15
_Max._ Heh!--Noble minister! You miss your part.
You came not here to act a panegyric.
You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us--
I must not be beforehand with my comrades.
_Octavio._ He comes from court, where people are not quite 20
So well contented with the duke, as here.
_Max._ What now have they contrived to find out in him?
That he alone determines for himself
What he himself alone doth understand?
Well, therein he does right, and will persist in 't. 25
Heaven never meant him for that passive thing
That can be struck and hammered out to suit
Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance
To every tune of every minister.
It goes against his nature--he can't do it. 30
He is possessed by a commanding spirit,
And his too is the station of command.
And well for us it is so! There exist
Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use
Their intellects intelligently.--Then 35
Well for the whole, if there be found a man,
Who makes himself what nature destined him,
The pause, the central point to thousand thousands--
Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column,
Where all may press with joy and confidence. 40
Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if
Another better suits the court--no other
But such a one as he can serve the army.
_Questenberg._ The army? Doubtless!
_Octavio (aside)._ Hush! suppress it, friend!
Unless some end were answered by the utterance.-- 45
Of him there you'll make nothing.
_Max._ In their distress
They call a spirit up, and when he comes,
Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread him
More than the ills for which they called him up.
The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be 50
Like things of every day.--But in the field,
Aye, there the Present Being makes itself felt.
The personal must command, the actual eye
Examine. If to be the chieftain asks
All that is great in nature, let it be 55
Likewise his privilege to move and act
In all the correspondencies of greatness.
The oracle within him, that which lives,
He must invoke and question--not dead books,
Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers. 60
_Octavio._ My son! of those old narrow ordinances
Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights
Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind
Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors.
For always formidable was the league 65
And partnership of free power with free will.
The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds,
Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goes
The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path
Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid, 70
Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches.
My son! the road the human being travels,
That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow
The river's course, the valley's playful windings,
Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, 75
Honouring the holy bounds of property!
And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.
_Questenberg._ O hear your father, noble youth! hear him,
Who is at once the hero and the man.
_Octavio._ My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee! 80
A war of fifteen years
Hath been thy education and thy school.
Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists
A higher than the warrior's excellence.
In war itself war is no ultimate purpose. 85
The vast and sudden deeds of violence,
Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,
These are not they, my son, that generate
The calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty!
Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect! 90
Builds his light town of canvas, and at once
The whole scene moves and bustles momently,
With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel
The motley market fills; the roads, the streams
Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and hurries! 95
But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,
The tents drop down, the horde renews its march.
Dreary, and solitary as a church-yard
The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,
And the year's harvest is gone utterly. 100
_Max._ O let the Emperor make peace, my father!
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel
For the first violet[614:1] of the leafless spring,
Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!
_Octavio._ What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once? 105
_Max._ Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.
From thence am I come hither: O! that sight,
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape
Left in the distance,--some delicious landscape!
My road conducted me through countries where 110
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father--
My venerable father, life has charms
Which we have ne'er experienced. We have been
But voyaging along its barren coasts,
Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates, 115
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,
House on the wild sea with wild usages,
Nor know aught of the main land, but the bays
Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.
Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals 120
Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.
_Octavio._ And so your journey has revealed this to you?
_Max._ 'Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me,
What is the meed and purpose of the toil, 125
The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth,
Left me a heart unsoul'd and solitary,
A spirit uninformed, unornamented.
For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum,
The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet, 130
The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty,
Word of command, and exercise of arms--
There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this
To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart!
Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not-- 135
This cannot be the sole felicity,
These cannot be man's best and only pleasures.
_Octavio._ Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey.
_Max._ O! day thrice lovely! when at length the soldier
Returns home into life; when he becomes 140
A fellow-man among his fellow-men.
The colours are unfurled, the cavalcade
Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark!
Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home!
The caps and helmets are all garlanded 145
With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields.
The city gates fly open of themselves,
They need no longer the petard to tear them.
The ramparts are all filled with men and women,
With peaceful men and women, that send onwards 150
Kisses and welcomings upon the air,
Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures.
From all the towers rings out the merry peal,
The joyous vespers of a bloody day.
O happy man, O fortunate! for whom 155
The well-known door, the faithful arms are open,
The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.
_Questenberg._ O! that you should speak
Of such a distant, distant time, and not
Of the to-morrow, not of this to-day. 160
_Max._ Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna?
I will deal openly with you, Questenberg.
Just now, as first I saw you standing here,
(I'll own it to you freely) indignation
Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together. 165
'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye!--and the warrior,
It is the warrior that must force it from you.
Ye fret the General's life out, blacken him,
Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knows
What else still worse, because he spares the Saxons, 170
And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy;
Which yet 's the only way to peace: for if
War intermit not during war, how then
And whence can peace come?--Your own plagues fall on you!
Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you. 175
And here make I this vow, here pledge myself;
My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein,
And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere ye
Shall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin. [_Exit._
FOOTNOTES:
[614:1] In the original,
Den blut'gen Lorbeer geb ich him mit Freuden
Fürs erste Veilchen, das der Merz uns bringt,
Das duftige Pffand der neuverjüngten Erde.
_1800_, _1828_, _1829_.
LINENOTES:
[After 1] [_He embraces His father. As he turns round he observes
Questenberg, and draws back with a cold and reserved air._ 1800, 1828,
1829.
[Before 6] _Max (drily)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 20] _Octavio (to Max)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[38] to] of 1800.
[44] _Octavio (to Questenberg)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[45] _some_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[46] _him_ 1800, 1828, 1829. _Max (continuing)._ In their, &c. 1800,
1828, 1829.
[52] _there_ the _Present Being_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[58] _lives_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[63] _th' oppressed_ MS. R.
[71] _may_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[73] BLESSING 1800, 1828, 1829.
[78] _him_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[106] _have_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[113] _we_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 123] _Octavio (attentive, with an appearance of uneasiness)._
1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 158] _Questenberg (apparently much affected)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 161] _Max (turning round to him, quick and vehement)._ 1800,
1828, 1829.
[165] peace, _ye_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[172] _how_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[173] _whence_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE V
_QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI._
_Questenberg._ Alas, alas! and stands it so?
What, friend! and do we let him go away
In this delusion--let him go away?
Not call him back immediately, not open
His eyes upon the spot?
_Octavio._ He has now opened mine, 5
And I see more than pleases me.
_Questenberg._ What is it?
_Octavio._ Curse on this journey!
_Questenberg._ But why so? What is it?
_Octavio._ Come, come along, friend! I must follow up
The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes
Are opened now, and I must use them. Come! 10
[_Draws QUESTENBERG on with him._
_Questenberg._ What now? Where go you then?
_Octavio._ To her herself.
_Questenberg._ To----
_Octavio._ To the Duke. Come, let us go--'Tis done, 'tis done,
I see the net that is thrown over him.
O! he returns not to me as he went.
_Questenberg._ Nay, but explain yourself.
_Octavio._ And that I should not 15
Foresee it, not prevent this journey! Wherefore
Did I keep it from him?--You were in the right.
I should have warned him! Now it is too late.
_Questenberg._ But what's too late? Bethink yourself, my friend,
That you are talking absolute riddles to me. 20
_Octavio._ Come!--to the Duke's. 'Tis close upon the hour
Which he appointed you for audience. Come!
A curse, a threefold curse, upon this journey!
[_He leads QUESTENBERG off._
LINENOTES:
[After 1] [_Then in pressing and impatient tones._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[5] _Octavio (recovering himself out of a deep study)._ 1800, 1828,
1829.
[11] _Where_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 12] _Octavio (interrupting him, and correcting himself)._ 1800,
1828, 1829.
[19] _what's_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 21] _Octavio (more collected)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE VI
_Changes to a spacious chamber in the house of the Duke of
Friedland._--Servants _employed in putting the tables and chairs in
order. During this enters SENI, like an old Italian doctor, in black,
and clothed somewhat fantastically. He carries a white staff, with which
he marks out the quarters of the heaven._
_First Servant._ Come--to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it.
I hear the sentry call out, 'Stand to your arms!' They will
be there in a minute.
_Second Servant._ Why were we not told before that the
audience would be held here? Nothing prepared--no orders--no 5
instructions--
_Third Servant._ Ay, and why was the balcony-chamber
countermanded, that with the great worked carpet?--there one can
look about one.
_First Servant._ Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. 10
He says it is an unlucky chamber.
_Second Servant._ Poh! stuff and nonsense! That's what I call
a hum. A chamber is a chamber; what much can the place
signify in the affair?
_Seni._ My son, there's nothing insignificant, 15
Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing
First and most principal is place and time.
_First Servant (to the Second)._ Say nothing to him, Nat. The
Duke himself must let him have his own will.
_Seni (counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a low voice, till
he comes to eleven, which he repeats)._ Eleven! an evil number!
Set twelve chairs. 20
Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and seven,
The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve.
_Second Servant._ And what may you have to object against
eleven? I should like to know that now.
_Seni._ Eleven is--transgression; eleven oversteps 25
The ten commandments.
_Second Servant._ That's good! and why do you call five an
holy number?
_Seni._ Five is the soul of man: for even as man
Is mingled up of good and evil, so 30
The five is the first number that's made up
Of even and odd.
_Second Servant._ The foolish old coxcomb!
_First Servant._ Ey! let him alone though. I like to hear
him; there is more in his words than can be seen at first sight. 35
_Third Servant._ Off! They come.
_Second Servant._ There! Out at the side-door.
[_They hurry off. SENI follows slowly. A page brings the
staff of command on a red cushion, and places it on
the table near the DUKE'S chair. They are announced
from without, and the wings of the door fly open._
LINENOTES:
[13] _hum_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 15] _Seni (with gravity)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[15] _nothing_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[16] _Nothing_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE VII
_WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS._
_Wallenstein._ You went then through Vienna, were presented
To the Queen of Hungary?
_Duchess._ Yes, and to the Empress too,
And by both Majesties were we admitted
To kiss the hand.
_Wallenstein._ And how was it received,
That I had sent for wife and daughter hither 5
To the camp, in winter time?
_Duchess._ I did even that
Which you commissioned me to do. I told them,
You had determined on our daughter's marriage,
And wished, ere yet you went into the field,
To shew the elected husband his betrothed. 10
_Wallenstein._ And did they guess the choice which I had made?
_Duchess._ They only hoped and wished it may have fallen
Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.
_Wallenstein._ And you--what do you wish, Elizabeth?
_Duchess._ Your will, you know, was always mine.
_Wallenstein._ Well, then? 15
And in all else, of what kind and complexion
Was your reception at the court?
Hide nothing from me. How were you received?
_Duchess._ O! my dear lord, all is not what it was.
A cankerworm, my lord, a cankerworm 20
Has stolen into the bud.
_Wallenstein._ Ay! is it so!
What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?
_Duchess._ Not of respect. No honours were omitted,
No outward courtesy; but in the place
Of condescending, confidential kindness, 25
Familiar and endearing, there were given me
Only these honours and that solemn courtesy.
Ah! and the tenderness which was put on,
It was the guise of pity, not of favour.
No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife, 30
Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so--
Not wholly so should she have been received.
_Wallenstein._ Yes, yes; they have ta'en offence. My latest
conduct,
They railed at it, no doubt.
_Duchess._ O that they had!
I have been long accustomed to defend you, 35
To heal and pacify distempered spirits.
No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up,
O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence!--
Here is no every-day misunderstanding,
No transient pique, no cloud that passes over; 40
Something most luckless, most unhealable,
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt,
And ever at departure to embrace me--
_Wallenstein._ Now she omitted it?
_Duchess._ She did embrace me, 45
But then first when I had already taken
My formal leave, and when the door already
Had closed upon me, then did she come out
In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself,
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish 50
Than tenderness.
_Wallenstein (seizes her hand soothingly)._ Nay, now collect
yourself,
And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein,
And of our other friends there?
_Duchess._ I saw none.
_Wallenstein._ The Ambassador from Spain, who once was wont
To plead so warmly for me?--
_Duchess._ Silent, Silent! 55
_Wallenstein._ These suns then are eclipsed for us. Henceforward
Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light.
_Duchess._ And were it--were it, my dear lord, in that
Which moved about the court in buzz and whisper,
But in the country let itself be heard 60
Aloud--in that which Father Lamormain
In sundry hints and----
_Wallenstein._ Lamormain! what said he?
_Duchess._ That you're accused of having daringly
O'erstepped the powers entrusted to you, charged
With traitorous contempt of the Emperor 65
And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian,
He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers--
That there's a storm collecting over you
Of far more fearful menace than that former one
Which whirled you headlong down at Regensburg. 70
And people talk, said he, of----Ah!--
_Wallenstein._ Proceed!
_Duchess._ I cannot utter it!
_Wallenstein._ Proceed!
_Duchess._ They talk----
_Wallenstein._ Well!
_Duchess._ Of a second----
_Wallenstein._ Second----
_Duchess._ More disgraceful
----Dismission.
_Wallenstein._ Talk they?
O! they force, they thrust me
With violence, against my own will, onward! 75
_Duchess_. O! if there yet be time, my husband! if
By giving way and by submission, this
Can be averted--my dear lord, give way!
Win down your proud heart to it! Tell that heart
It is your sovereign lord, your Emperor 80
Before whom you retreat. O let no longer
Low tricking malice blacken your good meaning
With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up
Shielded and helm'd and weapon'd with the truth,
And drive before you into uttermost shame 85
These slanderous liars! Few firm friends have we--
You know it!--The swift growth of our good fortune
It hath but set us up, a mark for hatred.
What are we, if the sovereign's grace and favour
Stand not before us? 90
LINENOTES:
[14] _you_ wish 1800, 1828, 1829.
[15] _Wallenstein (after a pause)._ Well, then? 1800, 1828, 1829.
[After 17] [_The DUCHESS casts her eyes on the ground and remains
silent._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[31] _so_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[45] _Now_ 1800, 1828, 1829. _Duchess (wiping away her tears, after a
pause)._ 1800, 1828, 1829. _did_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[53] _Duchess (shaking her head)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[62] _Wallenstein (eagerly)._ Lamormain, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829. _he_
1800, 1828, 1829.
[71]
And people . . . Ah!-- [_Stifling extreme emotion._
1800, 1828, 1829.
[73] _Duchess._ Of a second---- (_catches her voice and hesitates_).
1800, 1828, 1829.
[74]
_Wallenstein._ Talk they? [_Strides across the chamber in vehement
agitation._
1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 76] _Duchess (presses near to him, in entreaty)._ 1800, 1828,
1829.
SCENE VIII
_Enter the COUNTESS TERTSKY, leading in her hand the PRINCESS THEKLA,
richly adorned with brilliants._
_COUNTESS, THEKLA, WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS._
_Countess._ How, sister? What already upon business,
And business of no pleasing kind I see,
Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first
Moment belongs to joy. Here, Friedland! father!
This is thy daughter. 5
(_THEKLA approaches with a shy and timid air, and bends
herself as about to kiss his hand. He receives her
in his arms, and remains standing for some time
lost in the feeling of her presence._)
_Wallenstein._ Yes! pure and lovely hath hope risen on me:
I take her as the pledge of greater fortune.
_Duchess._ 'Twas but a little child when you departed
To raise up that great army for the Emperor:
And after, at the close of the campaign, 10
When you returned home out of Pomerania,
Your daughter was already in the convent,
Wherein she has remain'd till now.
_Wallenstein._ The while
We in the field here gave our cares and toils
To make her great, and fight her a free way 15
To the loftiest earthly good, lo! mother Nature
Within the peaceful silent convent walls
Has done her part, and out of her free grace
Hath she bestowed on the beloved child
The godlike; and now leads her thus adorned 20
To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope.
_Duchess (to Thekla)._ Thou wouldst not have recognized thy father,
Wouldst thou, my child? She counted scarce eight years,
When last she saw your face.
_Thekla._ O yes, yes, mother!
At the first glance!--My father is not altered. 25
The form, that stands before me, falsifies
No feature of the image that hath lived
So long within me!
_Wallenstein._ The voice of my child!
[_Then after a pause._
I was indignant at my destiny
That it denied me a man-child to be 30
Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune,
And re-illume my soon extinguished being
In a proud line of princes.
I wronged my destiny. Here upon this head
So lovely in its maiden bloom will I 35
Let fall the garland of a life of war,
Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it
Transmitted to a regal ornament,
Around these beauteous brows.
[_He clasps her in his arms as PICCOLOMINI enters._
LINENOTES:
[After 1] [_Observing the countenance of the Duchess._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE IX
_Enter MAX PICCOLOMINI, and some time after COUNT TERTSKY, the others
remaining as before._
_Countess._ There comes the Paladin who protected us.
_Wallenstein._ Max! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert thou
The morning star of my best joys!
_Max._ My General----
_Wallenstein._ 'Till now it was the Emperor who rewarded thee,
I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound 5
The father to thee, Max! the fortunate father,
And this debt Friedland's self must pay.
_Max._ My prince!
You made no common hurry to transfer it.
I come with shame: yea, not without a pang!
For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered 10
The mother and the daughter to your arms,
But there is brought to me from your equerry
A splendid richly-plated hunting dress
So to remunerate me for my troubles----
Yes, yes, remunerate me! Since a trouble 15
It must be, a mere office, not a favour
Which I leapt forward to receive, and which
I came already with full heart to thank you for.
No! 'twas not so intended, that my business
Should be my highest best good fortune! 20
[_TERTSKY enters, and delivers letters to the DUKE, which
he breaks open hurryingly._
_Countess (to Max)._ Remunerate your trouble! For his joy
He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting
For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel
So tenderly--my brother it beseems
To shew himself for ever great and princely. 25
_Thekla._ Then I too must have scruples of his love:
For his munificent hands did ornament me
Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me.
_Max._ Yes; 'tis his nature ever to be giving
And making happy.
How my heart pours out 30
Its all of thanks to him: O! how I seem
To utter all things in the dear name Friedland.
While I shall live, so long will I remain
The captive of this name: in it shall bloom
My every fortune, every lovely hope. 35
Inextricably as in some magic ring
In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me!
_Countess._ My brother wishes us to leave him. Come.
_Wallenstein (turns himself round quick, collects himself, and
speaks with cheerfulness to the Duchess)._ Once more I
bid thee welcome to the camp,
Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max, 40
Will now again administer your old office,
While we perform the sovereign's business here.
[_MAX PICCOLOMINI offers the DUCHESS his arm, the
COUNTESS accompanies the PRINCESS._
_Tertsky (calling after him)._ Max, we depend on seeing you at the
meeting.
LINENOTES:
[30]
And making happy. [_He grasps the hand of the DUCHESS with still
increasing warmth._
1800, 1828, 1829.
[Before 38] _Countess (who during this time has been anxiously watching
the Duke, and remarks that he is lost in thought over the letters)._
1800, 1828, 1829.
SCENE X
_WALLENSTEIN, COUNT TERTSKY._
_Wallenstein (to himself)._ She hath seen all things as they are--It
is so
And squares completely with my other notices.
They have determined finally in Vienna,
Have given me my successor already;
It is the king of Hungary, Ferdinand, 5
The Emperor's delicate son! he's now their saviour,
He's the new star that's rising now! Of us
They think themselves already fairly rid,
And as we were deceased, the heir already
Is entering on possession--Therefore--dispatch! 10
[_As he turns round he observes TERTSKY, and gives him
a letter._
Count Altringer will have himself excused,
And Galas too--I like not this!
_Tertsky._ And if
Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away,
One following the other.
_Wallenstein._ Altringer
Is master of the Tyrole passes. I must forthwith 15
Send some one to him, that he let not in
The Spaniards on me from the Milanese.
----Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader
In contraband negotiations, he
Has shewn himself again of late. What brings he 20
From the Count Thur?
_Tertsky._ The Count communicates,
He has found out the Swedish chancellor
At Halberstadt, where the convention's held,
Who says, you've tired him out, and that he'll have
No further dealings with you.
_Wallenstein._ And why so? 25
[625:1]_Tertsky._ He says, you are never in earnest in your
speeches,
That you decoy the Swedes--to make fools of them,
Will league yourself with Saxony against them,
And at last make yourself a riddance of them
With a paltry sum of money.
_Wallenstein._ So then, doubtless, 30
Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects
That I shall yield him some fair German tract
For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last
On our own soil and native territory,
May be no longer our own lords and masters! 35
An excellent scheme! No, no! They must be off,
Off, off! away! we want no such neighbours.
_Tertsky._ Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land--
It goes not from your portion. If you win
The game what matters it to you who pays it? 40
_Wallenstein._ Off with them, off! Thou understand'st not this.
Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled
My native land away, dismembered Germany,
Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order
To come with stealthy tread, and filch away 45
My own share of the plunder--Never! never!--
No foreign power shall strike root in the empire,
And least of all, these Goths! these hunger-wolves!
Who send such envious, hot and greedy glances
T'wards the rich blessings of our German lands! 50
I'll have their aid to cast and draw my nets,
But not a single fish of all the draught
Shall they come in for.
_Tertsky._ You will deal, however,
More fairly with the Saxons? They lose patience
While you shift ground and make so many curves. 55
Say, to what purpose all these masks? Your friends
Are plunged in doubts, baffled, and led astray in you.
There's Oxenstirn, there's Arnheim--neither knows
What he should think of your procrastinations.
And in the end I prove the liar: all 60
Passes through me. I have not even your hand-writing.
_Wallenstein._ I never give my handwriting; thou knowest it.
_Tertsky._ But how can it be known that you're in earnest,
If the act follows not upon the word?
You must yourself acknowledge, that in all 65
Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy
You might have done with safety all you have done,
Had you meant nothing further than to gull him
For the Emperor's service.
_Wallenstein (after a pause, during which he looks narrowly on
Tertsky)._ And from whence dost thou know
That I'm not gulling him for the Emperor's service? 70
Whence knowest thou that I'm not gulling all of you?
Dost thou know me so well? When made I thee
The intendant of my secret purposes?
I am not conscious that I ever open'd
My inmost thoughts to thee. The Emperor, it is true, 75
Hath dealt with me amiss; and if I would,
I could repay him with usurious interest
For the evil he hath done me. It delights me
To know my power; but whether I shall use it,
Of that, I should have thought that thou could'st speak 80
No wiselier than thy fellows.
_Tertsky._ So hast thou always played thy game with us.
[_Enter ILLO._
FOOTNOTES:
[625:1] This passing off of his real irresolution and fancy-dalliance
for depth of Reserve and for Plan formed within the magic circle of his
own inapproachable spirits is very fine; but still it is not tragic--nay
scarce obvious enough to be altogether _dramatic_, if in this word we
involve theatre-representation. Iago (so far only analogous to
Wallenstein as in him an _Impulse_ is the source of his conduct rather
than the _motive_), always acting is not the object of Interest, [but]
derives a constant interest from Othello, on whom he is acting; from
Desdemona, Cassio, every one; and, besides, for the purpose of theatric
comprehensibility he is furnished with a set of outside motives that
actually pass with the groundling for the true springs of action. _MS.
R_.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1] _Wallenstein (in deep thought to himself)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[37] _we_ 1800
[62] _never_ 1800.
[63] _known_ 1800.
[69] _thou_ 1800.
[70] _not_ 1800.
[72] _me_ 1800.
[76] _would_ 1800.
[79] _power_ 1800.
SCENE XI
_ILLO, WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY._
_Wallenstein._ How stand affairs without? Are they prepared?
_Illo._ You'll find them in the very mood you wish.
They know about the Emperor's requisitions,
And are tumultuous.
_Wallenstein._ How hath Isolan
Declared himself?
_Illo._ He's yours, both soul and body, 5
Since you built up again his Faro-bank.
_Wallenstein._ And which way doth Kolatto bend? Hast thou
Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodate?
_Illo._ What Piccolomini does, that they do too.
_Wallenstein._ You mean then I may venture somewhat with them? 10
_Illo._--If you are assured of the Piccolomini.
_Wallenstein._ Not more assured of mine own self.
_Tertsky._ And yet
I would you trusted not so much to Octavio,
The fox!
_Wallenstein._ Thou teachest me to know my man?
Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old warrior. 15
Besides, I have his horoscope,
We both are born beneath like stars--in short
To this belongs its own particular aspect,
If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest----
_Illo._ There is among them all but this one voice, 20
You must not lay down the command. I hear
They mean to send a deputation to you.
_Wallenstein._ If I'm in aught to bind myself to them,
They too must bind themselves to me.
_Illo._ Of course.
_Wallenstein._ Their words of honour they must give, their oaths, 25
Give them in writing to me, promising
Devotion to my service unconditional.
_Illo._ Why not?
_Tertsky._ Devotion unconditional?
The exception of their duties towards Austria
They'll always place among the premises. 30
With this reserve----
_Wallenstein._ All unconditional!
No premises, no reserves.
_Illo._ A thought has struck me.
Does not Count Tertsky give us a set banquet
This evening?
_Tertsky._ Yes; and all the Generals
Have been invited.
_Illo (to Wallenstein)._ Say, will you here fully 35
Commission me to use my own discretion?
I'll gain for you the Generals' words of honour,
Even as you wish.
_Wallenstein._ Gain me their signatures!
How you come by them, that is your concern.
_Illo._ And if I bring it to you, black on white, 40
That all the leaders who are present here
Give themselves up to you, without condition;
Say, will you then--then will you shew yourself
In earnest, and with some decisive action
Make trial of your luck?
_Wallenstein._ The signatures! 45
Gain me the signatures.
_Illo._ [628:1]Seize, seize the hour
Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment
In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty.
To make a great decision possible,
O! many things, all transient and all rapid, 50
Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met
May by that confluence be enforced to pause
Time long enough for wisdom, though too short,
Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple!
This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, 55
Our best, our noblest, are assembled around you,
Their kinglike leader! On your nod they wait.
The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune
Hath woven together in one potent web
Instinct with destiny, O let them not 60
Unravel of themselves. If you permit
These chiefs to separate, so unanimous
Bring you them not a second time together.
'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship,
And every individual's spirit waxes 65
In the great stream of multitudes. Behold
They are still here, here still! But soon the war
Bursts them once more asunder, and in small
Particular anxieties and interests
Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy 70
Of each man with the whole. He, who to-day
Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream,
Will become sober, seeing but himself,
Feel only his own weakness, and with speed
Will face about, and march on in the old 75
High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road,
And seek but to make shelter in good plight.
_Wallenstein._ The time is not yet come.
_Tertsky._ So you say always.
But when will it be time?
_Wallenstein._ When I shall say it.
_Illo._ You'll wait upon the stars, and on their hours, 80
Till the earthly hour escapes you. O, believe me,
In your own bosom are your destiny's stars.
Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution,
This is your Venus! and the sole malignant,
The only one that harmeth you is Doubt. 85
_Wallenstein._ Thou speakest as thou understand'st. How oft
And many a time I've told thee, Jupiter,
That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth.
Thy visual power subdues no mysteries;
Mole-eyed, thou mayest but burrow in the earth, 90
[629:1]Blind as that subterrestrial, who with wan,
Lead-coloured shine lighted thee into life.
The common, the terrestrial, thou mayest see,
With serviceable cunning knit together
The nearest with the nearest; and therein 95
I trust thee and believe thee! but whate'er
Full of mysterious import Nature weaves,
And fashions in the depths--the spirit's ladder,
That from this gross and visible world of dust
Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, 100
Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers
Move up and down on heavenly ministries--
The circles in the circles, that approach
The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit--
These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye, 105
Of Jupiter's glad children born in lustre.
[_He walks across the chamber, then returns, and standing
still, proceeds._
The heavenly constellations make not merely
The day and nights, summer and spring, not merely
Signify to the husbandman the seasons
Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, 110
That is the seed too of contingencies,
Strewed on the dark land of futurity
In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate.
Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time,
To watch the stars, select their proper hours, 115
And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses,
Whether the enemy of growth and thriving
Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner.
Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile
Do you your part. As yet I cannot say 120
What I shall do--only, give way I will not.
Depose me too they shall not. On these points
You may rely.
_Page (entering)._ My Lords, the Generals.
_Wallenstein._ Let them come in.
FOOTNOTES:
[628:1] Here is an instance of the defect classed No. 1 in the blank
leaf. With what propriety is this speech of profound moral insight put
in the mouth of that stupid, foolish Illo? _MS. R_.
[629:1] This is _said_, and finely too; but in what one instance is it
shown realized in Illo? This is a common fault of a man of genius whose
genius is not however _creative_ but _ideative_. There is just such
another in my Maria as described by Osorio, the Character exists only in
the description. _MS. R_.
LINENOTES:
[After 17] (_with an air of mystery_) 1800, 1828, 1829.
[21] _must_ 1800.
[27] _unconditional_ 1800.
[28] _unconditional_ 1800.
[31] _unconditional_ 1800.
[32] _Wallenstein (shaking his head)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[39] _your_ 1800.
[43] _then_--_then_ 1800.
[66] multitudes] multitude 1800.
[79] _when_ 1800.
[108] nights] night 1800, 1828, 1829.
[121] _I_ 1800.
SCENE XII
_WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY, ILLO.--To them enter QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO, and
MAX PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER, ISOLANI, MARADAS, and three other_ Generals.
_WALLENSTEIN motions QUESTENBERG, who in consequence takes the Chair
directly opposite to him; the others follow, arranging themselves
according to their rank._
_Wallenstein._ I have understood, 'tis true, the sum and import
Of your instructions, Questenberg, have weighed them,
And formed my final, absolute resolve;
Yet it seems fitting, that the Generals
Should hear the will of the Emperor from your mouth. 5
May't please you then to open your commission
Before these noble Chieftains.
_Questenberg._ I am ready
To obey you; but will first entreat your Highness,
And all these noble Chieftains, to consider,
The Imperial dignity and sovereign right 10
Speaks from my mouth, and not my own presumption.
_Wallenstein._ We excuse all preface.
_Questenberg._ When his Majesty
The Emperor to his courageous armies
Presented in the person of Duke Friedland
A most experienced and renowned commander, 15
He did it in glad hope and confidence
To give thereby to the fortune of the war
A rapid and auspicious change. The onset
Was favourable to his royal wishes.
Bohemia was delivered from the Saxons, 20
The Swede's career of conquest checked! These lands
Began to draw breath freely, as Duke Friedland
From all the streams of Germany forced hither
The scattered armies of the enemy,
Hither invoked as round one magic circle 25
The Rhinegrave, Bernhard, Banner, Oxenstirn,
Yea, and that never-conquered King himself;
Here finally, before the eye of Nürnberg,
The fearful game of battle to decide.
_Wallenstein._ May't please you to the point. 30
_Questenberg._ In Nürnberg's camp the Swedish monarch left
His fame--in Lützen's plains his life. But who
Stood not astounded, when victorious Friedland
After this day of triumph, this proud day,
Marched toward Bohemia with the speed of flight, 35
And vanished from the theatre of war;
While the young Weimar hero forced his way
Into Franconia, to the Danube, like
Some delving winter-stream, which, where it rushes,
Makes its own channel; with such sudden speed 40
He marched, and now at once 'fore Regenspurg
Stood to the affright of all good Catholic Christians.
Then did Bavaria's well-deserving Prince
Entreat swift aidance in his extreme need;
The Emperor sends seven horsemen to Duke Friedland, 45
Seven horsemen couriers sends he with the entreaty:
He superadds his own, and supplicates
Where as the sovereign lord he can command.
In vain his supplication! At this moment
The Duke hears only his old hate and grudge, 50
Barters the general good to gratify
Private revenge--and so falls Regenspurg.
_Wallenstein._ Max, to what period of the war alludes he?
My recollection fails me here.
_Max._ He means
When we were in Silesia.
_Wallenstein._ Ay! Is it so! 55
But what had we to do there?
_Max._ To beat out
The Swedes and Saxons from the province.
_Wallenstein._ True.
In that description which the Minister gave
I seemed to have forgotten the whole war. [_To QUESTENBERG._
Well, but proceed a little.
_Questenberg._ Yes! at length 60
Beside the river Oder did the Duke
Assert his ancient fame. Upon the fields
Of Steinau did the Swedes lay down their arms,
Subdued without a blow. And here, with others,
The righteousness of Heaven to his avenger 65
Delivered that long-practised stirrer-up
Of insurrection, that curse-laden torch
And kindler of this war, Matthias Thur.
But he had fallen into magnanimous hands;
Instead of punishment he found reward, 70
And with rich presents did the Duke dismiss
The arch-foe of his Emperor.
_Wallenstein (laughs)._ I know,
I know you had already in Vienna
Your windows and balconies all forestalled
To see him on the executioner's cart. 75
I might have lost the battle, lost it too
With infamy, and still retained your graces--
But, to have cheated them of a spectacle,
Oh! that the good folks of Vienna never,
No, never can forgive me.
_Questenberg._ So Silesia 80
Was freed, and all things loudly called the Duke
Into Bavaria, now pressed hard on all sides.
And he did put his troops in motion: slowly,
Quite at his ease, and by the longest road
He traverses Bohemia; but ere ever 85
He hath once seen the enemy, faces round,
Breaks up the march, and takes to winter quarters.
_Wallenstein._ The troops were pitiably destitute
Of every necessary, every comfort.
The winter came. What thinks his Majesty 90
His troops are made of? Arn't we men? subjected
Like other men to wet, and cold, and all
The circumstances of necessity?
O miserable lot of the poor soldier!
Wherever he comes in, all flee before him, 95
And when he goes away, the general curse
Follows him on his route. All must be seized,
Nothing is given him. And compelled to seize
From every man, he's every man's abhorrence.
Behold, here stand my Generals. Karaffa! 100
Count Deodate! Butler! Tell this man
How long the soldiers' pay is in arrears.
_Butler._ Already a full year.
_Wallenstein._ And 'tis the hire
That constitutes the hireling's name and duties,
The soldier's pay is the soldier's covenant.[634:1] 105
_Questenberg._ Ah! this is a far other tone from that
In which the Duke spoke eight, nine years ago.
_Wallenstein._ Yes! 'tis my fault, I know it: I myself
Have spoilt the Emperor by indulging him.
Nine years ago, during the Danish war, 110
I raised him up a force, a mighty force,
Forty or fifty thousand men, that cost him
Of his own purse no doit. Through Saxony
The fury goddess of the war marched on,
E'en to the surf-rocks of the Baltic, bearing 115
The terrors of his name. That was a time!
In the whole Imperial realm no name like mine
Honoured with festival and celebration--
And Albrecht Wallenstein, it was the title
Of the third jewel in his crown! 120
But at the Diet, when the Princes met
At Regenspurg, there, there the whole broke out,
There 'twas laid open, there it was made known,
Out of what money-bag I had paid the host.
And what was now my thank, what had I now, 125
That I, a faithful servant of the Sovereign,
Had loaded on myself the people's curses,
And let the Princes of the empire pay
The expenses of this war, that aggrandizes
The Emperor alone--What thanks had I! 130
What? I was offered up to their complaints,
Dismissed, degraded!
_Questenberg._ But your Highness knows
What little freedom he possessed of action
In that disastrous diet.
_Wallenstein._ Death and hell!
I had that which could have procured him freedom. 135
No! Since 'twas proved so inauspicious to me
To serve the Emperor at the empire's cost,
I have been taught far other trains of thinking
Of the empire, and the diet of the empire.
From the Emperor, doubtless, I received this staff, 140
But now I hold it as the empire's general--
For the common weal, the universal interest,
And no more for that one man's aggrandizement!
But to the point. What is it that's desired of me?
_Questenberg._ First, his imperial Majesty hath willed 145
That without pretexts of delay the army
Evacuate Bohemia.
_Wallenstein._ In this season?
And to what quarter wills the Emperor
That we direct our course?
_Questenberg._ To the enemy.
His Majesty resolves, that Regenspurg 150
Be purified from the enemy, ere Easter,
That Lutheranism may be no longer preached
In that cathedral, nor heretical
Defilement desecrate the celebration
Of that pure festival.
_Wallenstein._ My generals, 155
Can this be realized?
_Illo._ 'Tis not possible.
_Butler._ It can't be realized.
_Questenberg._ The Emperor
Already hath commanded Colonel Suys
To advance toward Bavaria!
_Wallenstein._ What did Suys?
_Questenberg._ That which his duty prompted. He advanced! 160
_Wallenstein._ What? he advanced? And I, his general,
Had given him orders, peremptory orders,
Not to desert his station! Stands it thus
With my authority? Is this the obedience
Due to my office, which being thrown aside 165
No war can be conducted? Chieftains, speak!
You be the judges, generals! What deserves
That officer, who of his oath neglectful
Is guilty of contempt of orders?
_Illo._ Death.
_Wallenstein._ Count Piccolomini! what has he deserved? 170
_Max Piccolomini._ According to the letter of the law,
Death.
_Isolani._ Death.
_Butler._ Death, by the laws of war.
[_QUESTENBERG rises from his seat, WALLENSTEIN follows;
all the rest rise._
_Wallenstein._ To this the law condemns him, and not I.
And if I shew him favour, 'twill arise
From the reverence that I owe my Emperor. 175
_Questenberg._ If so, I can say nothing further--here!
_Wallenstein._ I accepted the command but on conditions!
And this the first, that to the diminution
Of my authority no human being,
Not even the Emperor's self, should be entitled 180
To do aught, or to say aught, with the army.
If I stand warranter of the event,
Placing my honour and my head in pledge,
Needs must I have full mastery in all
The means thereto. What rendered this Gustavus 185
Resistless, and unconquered upon earth?
This--that he was the monarch in his army!
A monarch, one who is indeed a monarch,
Was never yet subdued but by his equal.
But to the point! The best is yet to come. 190
Attend now, generals!
_Questenberg._ The prince Cardinal
Begins his route at the approach of spring
From the Milanese; and leads a Spanish army
Through Germany into the Netherlands.
That he may march secure and unimpeded, 195
'Tis the Emperor's will you grant him a detachment
Of eight horse-regiments from the army here.
_Wallenstein._ Yes, yes! I understand!--Eight regiments! Well,
Right well concerted, father Lamormain!
Eight thousand horse! Yes, yes! 'Tis as it should be! 200
I see it coming!
_Questenberg._ There is nothing coming.
All stands in front: the counsel of state-prudence,
The dictate of necessity!----
_Wallenstein._ What then?
What, my Lord Envoy? May I not be suffered
To understand, that folks are tired of seeing 205
The sword's hilt in my grasp: and that your court
Snatch eagerly at this pretence, and use
The Spanish title, to drain off my forces,
To lead into the empire a new army
Unsubjected to my control. To throw me 210
Plumply aside,--I am still too powerful for you
To venture that. My stipulation runs,
That all the Imperial forces shall obey me
Where'er the German is the native language.
Of Spanish troops and of Prince Cardinals 215
That take their route, as visitors, through the empire,
There stands no syllable in my stipulation.
No syllable! And so the politic court
Steals in a-tiptoe, and creeps round behind it;
First makes me weaker, then to be dispensed with, 220
Till it dares strike at length a bolder blow
And make short work with me.
What need of all these crooked ways, Lord Envoy?
Straight-forward man! His compact with me pinches
The Emperor. He would that I moved off!-- 225
Well!--I will gratify him!
[_Here there commences an agitation among the Generals
which increases continually._
It grieves me for my noble officers' sakes!
I see not yet, by what means they will come at
The moneys they have advanced, or how obtain
The recompense their services demand. 230
Still a new leader brings new claimants forward,
And prior merit superannuates quickly.
There serve here many foreigners in the army,
And were the man in all else brave and gallant,
I was not wont to make nice scrutiny 235
After his pedigree or catechism.
This will be otherwise, i'the time to come.
Well--me no longer it concerns. [_He seats himself._
_Max Piccolomini._ Forbid it. Heaven, that it should come to this!
Our troops will swell in dreadful fermentation-- 240
The Emperor is abused--it cannot be.
_Isolani._ It cannot be; all goes to instant wreck.
_Wallenstein._ Thou hast said truly, faithful Isolani!
What we with toil and foresight have built up,
Will go to wreck--all go to instant wreck. 245
What then? another chieftain is soon found,
Another army likewise (who dares doubt it?)
Will flock from all sides to the Emperor
At the first beat of his recruiting drum.
[_During this speech, ISOLANI, TERTSKY, ILLO and MARADAS
talk confusedly with great agitation._
_Max Piccolomini (busily and passionately going from one to
another, and soothing them)._ Hear, my commander! Hear me,
generals! 250
Let me conjure you, Duke! Determine nothing,
Till we have met and represented to you
Our joint remonstrances.--Nay, calmer! Friends!
I hope all may be yet set right again.
_Tertsky._ Away! let us away! in the antechamber 255
Find we the others. [_They go._
_Butler (to Questenberg)._ If good counsel gain
Due audience from your wisdom, my Lord Envoy!
You will be cautious how you shew yourself
In public for some hours to come--or hardly
Will that gold key protect you from maltreatment. 260
[_Commotions heard from without._
_Wallenstein._ A salutary counsel----Thou, Octavio!
Wilt answer for the safety of our guest.
Farewell, Von Questenberg! [_QUESTENBERG is about to speak._
Nay, not a word.
Not one word more of that detested subject!
You have performed your duty--We know how 265
To separate the office from the man.
[_As QUESTENBERG is going off with OCTAVIO, GOETZ,
TIEFENBACH, KOLATTO, press in; several other_
Generals _following them._
_Goetz._ Where's he who means to rob us of our general?
_Tiefenbach (at the same time)._ What are we forced to hear?
That thou wilt leave us?
_Kolatto (at the same time)._ We will live with thee, we will die
with thee.
_Wallenstein (pointing to Illo)._ There! the Field-Marshal knows
our will. [_Exit._ 270
FOOTNOTES:
[634:1] The original is not translatable into English:
----Und sein _Sold_
Muss dem _Soldaten_ werden, darnach heisst er.
It might perhaps have been thus rendered:
'And that for which he sold his services,
The soldier must receive.'
But a false or doubtful etymology is no more than a dull pun.
LINENOTES:
[Before 1] _WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY, &c. . . . rank. There reigns a
momentary silence._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[56] _there_ 1800.
[79] _that_ 1800.
[83] _did_ 1800.
[91] Arn't] An't 1800, 1828, 1829.
[105] _pay . . . covenant_ 1800.
[135] _I_ 1800.
[Before 170] _Wallenstein (raising his voice, as all, but Illo, had
remained silent, and seemingly scrupulous)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[171] _Max Piccolomini (after a long pause)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[176] _so . . . here_ 1800.
[182] _event_ 1800.
[206] _my_ 1800.
[244] _we_ 1800.
[270] _Wallenstein (with stateliness and, &c.)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[After 270] [_While all are going off the stage, the curtain drops._
1800, 1828, 1829.
ACT II
SCENE I
SCENE--_A small Chamber._
_ILLO and TERTSKY._
_Tertsky._ Now for this evening's business! How intend you
To manage with the generals at the banquet?
_Illo._ Attend! We frame a formal declaration,
Wherein we to the Duke consign ourselves
Collectively, to be and to remain 5
His both with life and limb, and not to spare
The last drop of our blood for him, provided
So doing we infringe no oath nor duty,
We may be under to the Emperor.--Mark!
This reservation we expressly make 10
In a particular clause, and save the conscience.
Now hear! This formula so framed and worded
Will be presented to them for perusal
Before the banquet. No one will find in it
Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further! 15
After the feast, when now the vap'ring wine
Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let
A counterfeited paper, in the which
This one particular clause has been left out,
Go round for signatures.
_Tertsky._ How? think you then 20
That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath,
Which we had tricked them into by a juggle?
_Illo._ We shall have caught and caged them! Let them then
Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave
Loud as they may against our treachery, 25
At court their signatures will be believed
Far more than their most holy affirmations.
Traitors they are, and must be; therefore wisely
Will make a virtue of necessity.
_Tertsky._ Well, well, it shall content me; let but something 30
Be done, let only some decisive blow
Set us in motion.
_Illo._ Besides, 'tis of subordinate importance
How, or how far, we may thereby propel
The generals. 'Tis enough that we persuade 35
The Duke, that they are his--Let him but act
In his determined mood, as if he had them,
And he will have them. Where he plunges in,
He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it.
_Tertsky._ His policy is such a labyrinth, 40
That many a time when I have thought myself
Close at his side, he's gone at once, and left me
Ignorant of the ground where I was standing.
He lends the enemy his ear, permits me
To write to them, to Arnheim; to Sesina 45
Himself comes forward blank and undisguised;
Talks with us by the hour about his plans,
And when I think I have him--off at once----
He has slipped from me, and appears as if
He had no scheme, but to retain his place. 50
_Illo._ He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend!
His soul is occupied with nothing else,
Even in his sleep--They are his thoughts, his dreams,
That day by day he questions for this purpose
The motions of the planets----
_Tertsky._ Ay! you know 55
This night, that is now coming, he with Seni
Shuts himself up in the astrological tower
To make joint observations--for I hear,
It is to be a night of weight and crisis;
And something great, and of long expectation, 60
Is to make its procession in the heaven.
_Illo._ Come! be we bold and make dispatch. The work
In this next day or two must thrive and grow
More than it has for years. And let but only
Things first turn up auspicious here below---- 65
Mark what I say--the right stars too will shew themselves.
Come, to the generals. All is in the glow,
And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.
_Tertsky._ Do you go thither, Illo. I must stay
And wait here for the Countess Tertsky. Know 70
That we too are not idle. Break one string,
A second is in readiness.
_Illo._ Yes! Yes!
I saw your Lady smile with such sly meaning.
What's in the wind?
_Tertsky._ A secret. Hush! she comes. [_Exit ILLO._
LINENOTES:
[6] _His_ 1800.
[7] _him_ 1800.
[8] nor] or 1800, 1828, 1829.
[31] _done_ 1800, 1828, 1829.
[38] _will_ 1800.
[70] _wait_ 1800.