Act II, Scene V
DON CARLOS. DUDE OF ALVA.
ALVA (meeting him). Two words, most gracious prince.
CARLOS. Some other time.
[Going.
ALVA. The place is not the fittest, I confess; Perhaps your royal highness may be pleased To grant me audience in your private chamber.
CARLOS. For what? And why not here? Only be brief.
ALVA. The special object which has brought me hither, Is to return your highness lowly thanks For your good services.
CARLOS. Thanks to me-- For what? Duke Alva's thanks!
ALVA. You scarce had left His majesty, ere I received in form Instructions to depart for Brussels.
CARLOS. What! For Brussels!
ALVA. And to what, most gracious prince, Must I ascribe this favor, but to you-- Your intercession with the king?
CARLOS. Ob, no! Not in the least to me; but, duke, you travel, So Heaven be with your grace!
ALVA. And is this all? It seems, indeed, most strange! And has your highness No further orders, then, to send to Flanders?
CARLOS. What should I have?
ALVA. Not long ago, it seemed, The country's fate required your presence.
CARLOS. How? But yes, you're right,--it was so formerly; But now this change is better as it is.
ALVA. I am amazed----
CARLOS. You are an able general, No one doubts that--envy herself must own it. For me, I'm but a youth--so thought the king.
CARLOS. The king was right, quite right. I see it now Myself, and am content--and so no more. God speed your journey, as you see, just now My hands are full, and weighty business presses. The rest to-morrow, or whene'er you will, Or when you come from Brussels.
ALVA. What is this?
CARLOS. The season favors, and your route will lie Through Milan, Lorraine, Burgundy, and on To Germany! What, Germany? Ay, true, In Germany it was--they know you there. 'Tis April now, May, June,--in July, then, Just so! or, at the latest, soon in August,-- You will arrive in Brussels, and no doubt We soon shall hear of your victorious deeds. You know the way to win our high esteem, And earn the crown of fame.
ALVA (significantly). Indeed! condemned By my own conscious insignificance!
CARLOS. You're sensitive, my lord, and with some cause, I own it was not fair to use a weapon Against your grace you were unskilled to wield.
ALVA. Unskilled!
CARLOS. 'Tis pity I've no leisure now To fight this worthy battle fairly out But at some other time, we----
ALVA. Prince, we both Miscalculate--but still in opposite ways. You, for example, overrate your age By twenty years, whilst on the other band, I, by as many, underrate it----
CARLOS. Well
ALVA. And this suggests the thought, how many nights Beside this lovely Lusitanian bride-- Your mother--would the king right gladly give To buy an arm like this, to aid his crown. Full well he knows, far easier is the task To make a monarch than a monarchy; Far easier too, to stock the world with kings Than frame an empire for a king to rule.
CARLOS. Most true, Duke Alva, yet----
ALVA. And how much blood, Your subjects' dearest blood, must flow in streams Before two drops could make a king of you.
CARLOS. Most true, by heaven! and in two words comprised, All that the pride of merit has to urge Against the pride of fortune. But the moral-- Now, Duke Alva!
ALVA. Woe to the nursling babe Of royalty that mocks the careful hand Which fosters it! How calmly it may sleep On the soft cushion of our victories! The monarch's crown is bright with sparkling gems, But no eye sees the wounds that purchased them. This sword has given our laws to distant realms, Has blazed before the banner of the cross, And in these quarters of the globe has traced Ensanguined furrows for the seed of faith. God was the judge in heaven, and I on earth.
CARLOS. God, or the devil--it little matters which; Yours was his chosen arm--that stands confessed. And now no more of this. Some thoughts there are Whereof the memory pains me. I respect My father's choice,--my father needs an Alva! But that he needs him is not just the point I envy in him: a great man you are, This may be true, and I well nigh believe it, Only I fear your mission is begun Some thousand years too soon. Alva, methinks, Were just the man to suit the end of time. Then when the giant insolence of vice Shall have exhausted Heaven's enduring patience, And the rich waving harvest of misdeeds Stand in full ear, and asks a matchless reaper, Then should you fill the post. O God! my paradise! My Flanders! But of this I must not think. 'Tis said you carry with you a full store Of sentences of death already signed. This shows a prudent foresight! No more need To fear your foes' designs, or secret plots: Oh, father! ill indeed I've understood thee. Calling thee harsh, to save me from a post, Where Alva's self alone can fitly shine! 'Twas an unerring token of your love.
ALVA. These words deserve----
CARLOS. What!
ALVA. But your birth protects you.
CARLOS (seizing his sword). That calls for blood! Duke, draw your sword!
ALVA (slightingly). On whom?
CARLOS. (pressing upon him). Draw, or I run you through.
ALVA. Then be it so.
[They fight.
Act II, Scene VI
The QUEEN, DON CARLOS, DUKE ALVA.
QUEEN (coming from her room alarmed). How! naked swords?
[To the PRINCE in an indignant and commanding tone.
Prince Carlos!
CARLOS (agitated at the QUEEN's look, drops his arm, stands motionless, then rushes to the DUKE, and embraces him). Pardon, duke! Your pardon, sir! Forget, forgive it all!
[Throws himself in silence at the QUEEN'S feet, then rising suddenly, departs in confusion.
ALVA. By heaven, 'tis strange!
QUEEN (remains a few moments as if in doubt, then retiring to her apartment). A word with you, Duke ALVA.
[Exit, followed by the DUKE.
Act II, Scene VII
The PRINCESS EBOLI's apartment.
The PRINCESS in a simple, but elegant dress, playing on the lute. The QUEEN's PAGE enters.
PRINCESS (starting up suddenly) He comes!
PAGE (abruptly). Are you alone? I wonder much He is not here already; but he must Be here upon the instant.
PRINCESS. Do you say must! Then he will come, this much is certain then.
PAGE. He's close upon my steps. You are beloved, Adored, and with more passionate regard Than mortal ever was, or can be loved. Oh! what a scene I witnessed!
PRINCESS (impatiently draws him to her). Quick, you spoke With him! What said he? Tell me straight-- How did he look? what were his words? And say-- Did he appear embarrassed or confused And did he guess who sent the key to him? Be quick! or did he not? He did not guess At all, perhaps! or guessed amiss! Come, speak, How! not a word to answer me? Oh, fie! You never were so dull--so slow before, 'Tis past all patience.
PAGE. Dearest lady, hear me! Both key and note I placed within his hands, In the queen's antechamber, and he started And gazed with wonder when I told him that A lady sent me!
PRINCESS. Did he start? go on! That's excellent. Proceed, what next ensued?
PAGE. I would have told him more, but he grew pale, And snatched the letter from my hand, and said With look of deadly menace, he knew all. He read the letter with confusion through, And straight began to tremble.
PRINCESS. He knew all! He knew it all? Were those his very words?
PAGE. He asked me, and again he asked, if you With your own hands had given me the letter?
PRINCESS. If I? Then did he mention me by name?
PAGE. By name! no name he mentioned: there might be Listeners, he said, about the palace, who Might to the king disclose it.
PRINCESS (surprised). Said he that?
PAGE. He further said, it much concerned the king; Deeply concerned--to know of that same letter.
PRINCESS. The king! Nay, are you sure you heard him right? The king! Was that the very word he used?
PAGE. It was. He called it a most perilous secret, And warned me to be strictly on my guard, Never with word or look to give the king Occasion for suspicion.
PRINCESS (after a pause, with astonishment). All agrees! It can be nothing else--he must have heard The tale--'tis very strange! Who could have told him, I wonder who? The eagle eye of love Alone could pierce so far. But tell me further-- He read the letter.
PAGE. Which, he said, conveyed Such bliss as made him tremble, and till then He had not dared to dream of. As he spoke The duke, by evil chance, approached the room, And this compelled us----
PRINCESS (angrily). What in all the world Could bring the duke to him at such a time? What can detain him? Why appears he not? See how you've been deceived; how truly blest Might he have been already--in the time You've taken to describe his wishes to me!
PAGE. The duke, I fear----
PRINCESS. Again, the duke! What can The duke want here? What should a warrior want With my soft dreams of happiness? He should Have left him there, or sent him from his presence. Where is the man may not be treated thus? But Carlos seems as little versed in love As in a woman's heart--he little knows What minutes are. But hark! I hear a step; Away, away! [PAGE hastens out. Where have I laid my lute? I must not seem to wait for him. My song Shall be a signal to him.
Act II, Scene VIII
The PRINCESS, DON CARLOS.
The PRINCESS has thrown herself upon an ottoman, and plays.
CARLOS (rushes in; he recognizes the PRINCESS, and stands thunderstruck). Gracious Heaven! Where am I?
PRINCESS (lets her lute fall, and meeting him) What? Prince Carlos! yes, in truth.
CARLOS. Where am I? Senseless error; I have missed The right apartment.
PRINCESS. With what dexterous skill Carlos contrives to hit the very room Where ladies sit alone!
CARLOS. Your pardon, princess! I found--I found the antechamber open.
PRINCESS. Can it be possible? I fastened it Myself; at least I thought so----
CARLOS. Ay! you thought, You only thought so; rest assured you did not. You meant to lock it, that I well believe: But most assuredly it was not locked. A lute's sweet sounds attracted me, some hand Touched it with skill; say, was it not a lute? [Looking round inquiringly. Yes, there it lies, and Heaven can bear me witness I love the lute to madness. I became All ear, forgot myself in the sweet strain, And rushed into the chamber to behold The lovely eyes of the divine musician Who charmed me with the magic of her tones.
PRINCESS. Innocent curiosity, no doubt! But it was soon appeased, as I can prove. [After a short silence, significantly. I must respect the modesty that has, To spare a woman's blushes, thus involved Itself in so much fiction.
CARLOS (with sincerity). Nay, I feel I but augment my deep embarrassment, In vain attempt to extricate myself. Excuse me for a part I cannot play. In this remote apartment, you perhaps Have sought a refuge from the world, to pour The inmost wishes of your secret heart Remote from man's distracting eye. By me, Unhappy that I am, your heavenly dreams Are all disturbed, and the atonement now Must be my speedy absence. [Going.
PRINCESS (surprised and confused, but immediately recovering herself). Oh! that step Were cruel, prince, indeed!
CARLOS. Princess, I feel What such a look in such a place imports: This virtuous embarrassment has claims To which my manhood never can be deaf. Woe to the wretch whose boldness takes new fire From the pure blush of maiden modesty! I am a coward when a woman trembles.
PRINCESS. Is't possible?--such noble self-control In one so young, and he a monarch's son! Now, prince, indeed you shall remain with me, It is my own request, and you must stay. Near such high virtue, every maiden fear Takes wing at once; but your appearance here Disturbed me in a favorite air, and now Your penalty shall be to hear me sing it.
CARLOS (sits down near the PRINCESS, not without reluctance). A penalty delightful as the sin! And sooth to say, the subject of the song Was so divine, again and yet again I'd gladly hear it.
PRINCESS What! you heard it all? Nay, that was too bad, prince. It was, I think, A song of love.
CARLOS. And of successful love, If I mistake not--dear delicious theme From those most beauteous lips--but scarce so true, Methinks, as beautiful.
PRINCESS. What! not so true? Then do you doubt the tale?
CARLOS. I almost doubt That Carlos and the Princess Eboli, When they discourse on such a theme as love, May not quite understand each other's hearts.
[The PRINCESS starts; he observes it, and continues with playful gallantry.
Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love. Is it within the range of wayward chance That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh Unheard--unanswered? Love is only known By him who hopelessly persists in love.
PRINCESS (with all her former vivacity). Hush! what a dreadful thought! this fate indeed Appears to follow you of all mankind, Especially to-day. [Taking his hand with insinuating interest. You are not happy, Dear prince--you're sad! I know too well you suffer, And wherefore, prince? When with such loud appeal The world invites you to enjoy its bliss-- And nature on you pours her bounteous gifts, And spreads around you all life's sweetest joys. You, a great monarch's son, and more--far more-- E'en in your cradle with such gifts endowed As far eclipsed the splendor of your rank. You, who in those strict courts where women rule, And pass, without appeal, unerring sentence On manly worth and honor, even there Find partial judges. You, who with a look Can prove victorious, and whose very coldness Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion, Can make a paradise, and scatter round The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods. The man whom nature has adorned with gifts To render thousands happy, gifts which she Bestows on few--that such a man as this Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven, That gavest him all those blessings, why deny Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?
CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly recovers himself by the silence of the PRINCESS, and starts up). Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing That passage, pray, again.
PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment). Where, Carlos, were Your thoughts the while?
CARLOS (jumps up). By heaven, you do remind me In proper time--I must away--and quickly.
PRINCESS (holding him back). Whither away?
CARLOS. Into the open air. Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel As though the world behind me were in flames.
PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back). What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild, Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me! [CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her. Dear Carlos, You need repose, your blood is feverish. Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies. Ask yourself frankly can your head explain The tumult of your heart--and if it can-- Say, can no knight be found in all the court, No lady, generous as fair, to cure you-- Rather, I should have said, to understand you? What, no one?
CARLOS (hastily, without thinking). If the Princess Eboli----
PRINCESS (delighted, quickly). Indeed!
CARLOS. Would write a letter for me, a few words Of kindly intercession to my father;-- They say your influence is great.
PRINCESS. Who says so? [Aside. Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute!
CARLOS. Perchance my story is already public. I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant Merely to win my spurs--no more. The king, Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war Might spoil my singing!
PRINCESS. Prince, you play me false! Confess that by this serpent subterfuge You would mislead me. Look me in the face, Deceitful one! and say would he whose thoughts Were only bent on warlike deeds--would he E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand, To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop, And then--your pardon! hoard them--with such care?
[With light action she opens his shirt frill, and seizes a ribbon which is there concealed.
CARLOS (drawing back with amazement). Nay, princess--that's too much--I am betrayed. You're not to be deceived. You are in league With spirits and with demons!
PRINCESS. Are you then Surprised at this? What will you wager, Carlos But I recall some stories to your heart? Nay, try it with me; ask whate'er you please, And if the triflings of my sportive fancy-- The sound half-uttered by the air absorbed-- The smile of joy checked by returning gloom-- If motions--looks from your own soul concealed Have not escaped my notice--judge if I Can err when thou wouldst have me understand thee?
CARLOS. Why, this is boldly ventured; I accept The wager, princess. Then you undertake To make discoveries in my secret heart Unknown even to myself.
PRINCESS (displeased, but earnestly). Unknown to thee! Reflect a moment, prince! Nay, look around; This boudoir's not the chamber of the queen, Where small deceits are practised with full license. You start, a sudden blush o'erspreads your face. Who is so bold, so idle, you would ask, As to watch Carlos when he deems himself From scrutiny secure? Who was it, then, At the last palace-ball observed you leave The queen, your partner, standing in the dance, And join, with eager haste, the neighboring couple, To offer to the Princess Eboli The hand your royal partner should have claimed? An error, prince, his majesty himself, Who just then entered the apartment, noticed.
CARLOS (with ironical smile). His majesty? And did he really so? Of all men he should not have seen it.
PRINCESS. Nor yet that other scene within the chapel, Which doubtless Carlos hath long since forgotten. Prostrate before the holy Virgin's image, You lay in prayer, when suddenly you heard-- 'Twas not your fault--a rustling from behind Of ladies' dresses. Then did Philip's son, A youth of hero courage, tremble like A heretic before the holy office. On his pale lips died the half-uttered prayer. In ecstasy of passion, prince--the scene Was truly touching--for you seized the hand, The blessed Virgin's cold and holy hand, And showered your burning kisses on the marble.
CARLOS. Princess, you wrong me: that was pure devotion!
PRINCESS. Indeed! that's quite another thing. Perhaps It was the fear of losing, then, at cards, When you were seated with the queen and me, And you with dexterous skill purloined my glove. [CARLOS starts surprised. That prompted you to play it for a card?
CARLOS. What words are these? O Heaven, what have I done?
PRINCESS. Nothing I hope of which you need repent! How pleasantly was I surprised to find Concealed within the glove a little note, Full of the warmest tenderest romance,
CARLOS (interrupting her suddenly). Mere poetry! no more. My fancy teems With idle bubbles oft, which break as soon As they arise--and this was one of them; So, prithee, let us talk of it no more.
PRINCESS (leaving him with astonishment, and regarding him for some time at a distance). I am exhausted--all attempts are vain To hold this youth. He still eludes my grasp. [Remains silent a few moments. But stay! Perchance 'tis man's unbounded pride, That thus to add a zest to my delight. Assumes a mask of timid diffidence. 'Tis so. [She approaches the PRINCE again, and looks at him doubtingly. Explain yourself, prince, I entreat you. For here I stand before a magic casket, Which all my keys are powerless to unlock.
CARLOS. As I before you stand.
PRINCESS (leaves him suddenly, walks a few steps up and down in silence, apparently lost in deep thought. After a pause, gravely and solemnly). Then thus at last-- I must resolve to speak, and Carlos, you Shall be my judge. Yours is a noble nature, You are a prince--a knight--a man of honor. I throw myself upon your heart--protect me Or if I'm lost beyond redemption's power, Give me your tears in pity for my fate.
[The PRINCE draws nearer.
A daring favorite of the king demands My hand--his name Ruy Gomez, Count of Silva, The king consents--the bargain has been struck, And I am sold already to his creature.
CARLOS (with evident emotion). Sold! you sold! Another bargain, then, Concluded by this royal southern trader!
PRINCESS. No; but hear all--'tis not enough that I Am sacrificed to cold state policy, A snare is laid to entrap my innocence. Here is a letter will unmask the saint!
[CARLOS takes the paper, and without reading it listens with impatience to her recital.
Where Shall I find protection, prince? Till now My virtue was defended by my pride, At length----
CARLOS. At length you yielded! Yielded? No. For God's sake say not so!
PRINCESS. Yielded! to whom? Poor piteous reasoning. Weak beyond contempt Your haughty minds, who hold a woman's favor, And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for! Love is the only treasure on the face Of this wide earth that knows no purchaser Besides itself--love has no price but love. It is the costly gem, beyond all price, Which I must freely give away, or--bury For ever unenjoyed--like that proud merchant Whom not the wealth of all the rich Rialto Could tempt--a great rebuke to kings! to save From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl, Too proud to barter it beneath its worth!
CARLOS (aside). Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful.
PRINCESS. Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make Division of my joys. To him, alone, I choose as mine, I give up all forever. One only sacrifice I make; but that Shall be eternal. One true heart alone My love shall render happy: but that one I'll elevate to God. The keen delight Of mingling souls--the kiss--the swimming joys Of that delicious hour when lovers meet, The magic power of heavenly beauty--all Are sister colors of a single ray-- Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower, With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice? Shall I degrade the dignity of woman, The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand, To charm the evening of a reveller?
CARLOS. Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell This matchless creature! and unknown to me Until this day.
PRINCESS. Long since had I forsaken This court--the world--and in some blest retreat Immured myself; but one tie binds me still Too firmly to existence. Perhaps--alas! 'Tis but a phantom--but 'tis dear to me. I love--but am not loved in turn.
CARLOS (full of ardor, going towards her). You are! As true as God is throned in heaven! I swear You are--you are unspeakably beloved.
PRINCESS. You swear it, you!--sure 'twas an angel's voice. Oh, if you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it. Then I am truly loved!
CARLOS (embracing her with tenderness). Bewitching maid, Thou creature worthy of idolatry I stand before thee now all eye, all ear, All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee-- Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee, And boast he never loved? What dost thou here In Philip's royal court! Thou beauteous angel! Here amid monks and all their princely train. This is no clime for such a lovely flower-- They fain would rifle all thy sweets--full well I know their hearts. But it shall never be-- Not whilst I draw life's breath. I fold thee thus Within my arms, and in these hands I'll bear thee E'en through a hell replete with mocking fiends. Let me thy guardian angel prove.
PRINCESS (with a countenance full of love). O Carlos! How little have I known thee! and how richly With measureless reward thy heart repays The weighty task of--comprehending thee!
[She takes his hand and is about to kiss it.
CARLOS (drawing it back). Princess! What mean you?
PRINCESS (with tenderness and grace, looking at his hand attentively). Oh, this beauteous hand! How lovely 'tis, and rich! This hand has yet Two costly presents to bestow!--a crown-- And Carlos' heart:--and both these gifts perchance Upon one mortal!--both on one--Oh, great And godlike gift-almost too much for one! How if you share the treasure, prince! A queen Knows naught of love--and she who truly loves Cares little for a crown! 'Twere better, prince, Then to divide the treasure--and at once-- What says my prince? Have you done so already? Have you in truth? And do I know the blest one?
CARLOS. Thou shalt. I will unfold myself to thee, To thy unspotted innocence, dear maid, Thy pure, unblemished nature. In this court Thou art the worthiest--first--the only one To whom this soul has stood revealed. Then, yes! I will not now conceal it--yes, I love!
PRINCESS. Oh, cruel heart! Does this avowal prove So painful to thee? Must I first deserve Thy pity--ere I hope to win thy love?
CARLOS (starting). What say'st thou?
PRINCESS. So to trifle with me, prince! Indeed it was not well--and to deny The key----
CARLOS. The key! the key! Oh yes, 'tis so!
[After a dead silence.
I see it all too plainly! Gracious heaven!
[His knees totter, he leans against a chair, and covers his face with his hands. A long silence on both sides. The PRINCESS screams and falls.
PRINCESS. Oh, horrible! What have I done!
CARLOS. Hurled down So far from all my heavenly joys! 'Tis dreadful!
PRINCESS (hiding her face in the cushion). Oh, God! What have I said?
CARLOS (kneeling before her). I am not guilty. My passion--an unfortunate mistake-- By heaven, I am not guilty----
PRINCESS (pushing him from her). Out of my sight, For heaven's sake!
CARLOS. No, I will not leave thee thus. In this dread anguish leave thee----
PRINCESS (pushing him forcibly away). Oh, in pity-- For mercy's sake, away--out of my sight! Wouldst thou destroy me? How I hate thy presence!
[CARLOS going.
Give, give me back the letter and the key. Where is the other letter?
CARLOS. The other letter?
PRINCESS. That from the king, to me----
CARLOS (terrified). From whom?
PRINCESS. The one I just now gave you.
CARLOS. From the king! To you!
PRINCESS. Oh, heavens, how dreadfully have I Involved myself! The letter, sir! I must Have it again.
CARLOS. The letter from the king! To you!
PRINCESS. The letter! give it, I implore you By all that's sacred! give it.
CARLOS. What, the letter That will unmask the saint! Is this the letter?
PRINCESS. Now I'm undone! Quick, give it me----
CARLOS. The letter----
PRINCESS (wringing her hands in despair). What have I done? O dreadful, dire imprudence!
CARLOS. This letter comes, then, from the king! Princess, That changes all indeed, and quickly, too. This letter is beyond all value--priceless! All Philip's crowns are worthless, and too poor To win it from my hands. I'll keep this letter.
PRINCESS (throwing herself prostrate before him as he is going). Almighty Heaven! then I am lost forever.
[Exit CARLOS.
Act II, Scene IX
The PRINCESS alone.
She seems overcome with surprise, and is confounded. After CARLOS' departure she hastens to call him back.
PRINCESS. Prince, but one word! Prince, hear me. He is gone. And this, too, I am doomed to bear--his scorn! And I am left in lonely wretchedness, Rejected and despised! [Sinks down upon a chair. After a pause And yet not so; I'm but displaced--supplanted by some wanton. He loves! of that no longer doubt is left; He has himself confessed it--but my rival-- Who can she be? Happy, thrice happy one! This much stands clear: he loves where he should not. He dreads discovery, and from the king He hides his guilty passion! Why from him Who would so gladly hail it? Or, is it not The father that he dreads so in the parent? When the king's wanton purpose was disclosed, His features glowed with triumph, boundless joy Flashed in his eyes, his rigid virtue fled; Why was it mute in such a cause as this? Why should he triumph? What hath he to gain If Philip to his queen----
[She stops suddenly, as if struck by a thought, then drawing hastily from her bosom the ribbon which she had taken from CARLOS, she seems to recognize it.
Fool that I am! At length 'tis plain. Where have my senses been? My eyes are opened now. They loved each other Long before Philip wooed her, and the prince Ne'er saw me but with her! She, she alone Was in his thoughts when I believed myself The object of his true and boundless love. O matchless error! and have I betrayed My weakness to her? [Pauses. Should his love prove hopeless? Who can believe it? Would a hopeless love Persist in such a struggle? Called to revel In joys for which a monarch sighs in vain! A hopeless love makes no such sacrifice. What fire was in his kiss! How tenderly He pressed my bosom to his beating heart! Well nigh the trial had proved dangerous To his romantic, unrequited passion! With joy he seized the key he fondly thought The queen had sent:--in this gigantic stride Of love he puts full credence--and he comes-- In very truth comes here--and so imputes To Philip's wife a deed so madly rash. And would he so, had love not made him bold? 'Tis clear as day--his suit is heard--she loves! By heaven, this saintly creature burns with passion; How subtle, too, she is! With fear I trembled Before this lofty paragon of virtue! She towered beside me, an exalted being, And in her beams I felt myself eclipsed; I envied her the lovely, cloudless calm, That kept her soul from earthly tumults free. And was this soft serenity but show? Would she at both feasts revel, holding up Her virtue's godlike splendor to our gaze, And riot in the secret joys of vice? And shall the false dissembler cozen thus, And win a safe immunity from this That no avenger comes? By heavens she shall not! I once adored her,--that demands revenge:-- The king shall know her treachery--the king! [After a pause. 'Tis the sure way to win the monarch's ear!
[Exit.
Act II, Scene X
A chamber in the royal palace. DUKE OF ALVA, FATHER DOMINGO.
DOMINGO. Something to tell me!
ALVA. Ay! a thing of moment, Of which I made discovery to-day, And I would have your judgment on it.
DOMINGO. How! Discovery! To what do you allude?
ALVA. Prince Carlos and myself this morning met In the queen's antechamber. I received An insult from him--we were both in heat-- The strife grew loud--and we had drawn our swords. Alarmed, from her apartments rushed the queen. She stepped between us,--with commanding eye Of conscious power, she looked upon the prince. 'Twas but a single glance,--but his arm dropped, He fell upon my bosom--gave me then A warm embrace, and vanished.
DOMINGO (after a pause). This seems strange. It brings a something to my mind, my lord! And thoughts like these I own have often sprung Within my breast; but I avoid such fancies-- To no one have I e'er confided them. There are such things as double-edged swords And untrue friends,--I fear them both. 'Tis hard to judge among mankind, but still more hard To know them thoroughly. Words slipped at random Are confidants offended--therefore I Buried my secret in my breast, till time Should drag it forth to light. 'Tis dangerous To render certain services to kings. They are the bolts, which if they miss the mark, Recoil upon the archer! I could swear Upon the sacrament to what I saw. Yet one eye-witness--one word overheard-- A scrap of paper--would weigh heavier far Than my most strong conviction! Cursed fate That we are here in Spain!
ALVA. And why in Spain?
DOMINGO. There is a chance in every court but this For passion to forget itself, and fall. Here it is warned by ever-wakeful laws. Our Spanish queens would find it hard to sin-- And only there do they meet obstacles, Where best 'twould serve our purpose to surprise them.
ALVA. But listen further: Carlos had to-day An audience of the king; the interview Lasted an hour, and earnestly he sought The government of Flanders for himself. Loudly he begged, and fervently. I heard him In the adjoining cabinet. His eyes Were red with tears when I encountered him. At noon he wore a look of lofty triumph, And vowed his joy at the king's choice of me.
He thanked the king. "Matters are changed," he said, "And things go better now." He's no dissembler: How shall I reconcile such contradictions? The prince exults to see himself rejected, And I receive a favor from the king With marks of anger! What must I believe? In truth this new-born dignity doth sound Much more like banishment than royal favor!
DOMINGO. And is it come to this at last? to this? And has one moment crumbled into dust What cost us years to build? And you so calm, So perfectly at ease! Know you this youth? Do you foresee the fate we may expect Should he attain to power? The prince! No foe Am I of his. Far other cares than these Gnaw at my rest--cares for the throne--for God, And for his holy church! The royal prince-- (I know him, I can penetrate his soul), Has formed a horrible design, Toledo! The wild design--to make himself the regent, And set aside our pure and sacred faith. His bosom glows with some new-fangled virtue, Which, proud and self-sufficient, scorns to rest For strength on any creed. He dares to think! His brain is all on fire with wild chimeras; He reverences the people! And is this A man to be our king?
ALVA. Fantastic dreams! No more. A boy's ambition, too, perchance To play some lofty part! What can he less? These thoughts will vanish when he's called to rule.
DOMINGO. I doubt it! Of his freedom he is proud, And scorns those strict restraints all men must bear Who hope to govern others. Would he suit Our throne? His bold gigantic mind Would burst the barriers of our policy. In vain I sought to enervate his soul In the loose joys of this voluptuous age. He stood the trial. Fearful is the spirit That rules this youth; and Philip soon will see His sixtieth year.
ALVA. Your vision stretches far!
DOMINGO. He and the queen are both alike in this. Already works, concealed in either breast, The poisonous wish for change and innovation. Give it but way, 'twill quickly reach the throne. I know this Valois! We may tremble for The secret vengeance of this quiet foe If Philip's weakness hearken to her voice! Fortune so far hath smiled upon us. Now We must anticipate the foe, and both Shall fall together in one fatal snare. Let but a hint of such a thing be dropped Before the king, proved or unproved, it reeks not! Our point is gained if he but waver. We Ourselves have not a doubt; and once convinced, 'Tis easy to convince another's mind. Be sure we shall discover more if we Start with the faith that more remains concealed.
ALVA. But soft! A vital question! Who is he Will undertake the task to tell the king?
DOMINGO. Nor you, nor I! Now shall you learn, what long My busy spirit, full of its design, Has been at work with, to achieve its ends. Still is there wanting to complete our league A third important personage. The king Loves the young Princess Eboli--and I Foster this passion for my own designs. I am his go-between. She shall be schooled Into our plot. If my plan fail me not, In this young lady shall a close ally-- A very queen, bloom for us. She herself Asked me, but now, to meet her in this chamber. I'm full of hope. And in one little night A Spanish maid may blast this Valois lily.
ALVA. What do you say! Can I have heard aright? By Heaven! I'm all amazement. Compass this, And I'll bow down to thee, Dominican! The day's our own.
DOMINGO. Soft! Some one comes: 'tis she-- 'Tis she herself!
ALVA. I'm in the adjoining room If you should----
DOMINGO. Be it so: I'll call you in.
[Exit ALVA.
Act II, Scene XI
PRINCESS, DOMINGO.
DOMINGO. At your command, princess.
PRINCESS. We are perhaps Not quite alone? [Looking inquisitively after the DUKE. You have, as I observe, A witness still by you.
DOMINGO. How?
PRINCESS. Who was he, That left your side but now?
DOMINGO. It was Duke ALVA. Most gracious princess, he requests you will Admit him to an audience after me.
PRINCESS. Duke Alva! How? What can he want with me? You can, perhaps, inform me?
DOMINGO. I?--and that Before I learn to what important chance I owe the favor, long denied, to stand Before the Princess Eboli once more? [Pauses awaiting her answer. Has any circumstance occurred at last To favor the king's wishes? Have my hopes Been not in vain, that more deliberate thought Would reconcile you to an offer which Caprice alone and waywardness could spurn? I seek your presence full of expectation----
PRINCESS. Was my last answer to the king conveyed?
DOMINGO. I have delayed to inflict this mortal wound. There still is time, it rests with you, princess, To mitigate its rigor.
PRINCESS. Tell the king That I expect him.
DOMINGO. May I, lovely princess, Indeed accept this as your true reply?
PRINCESS. I do not jest. By heaven, you make me tremble What have I done to make e'en you grow pale?
DOMINGO. Nay, lady, this surprise--so sudden--I Can scarcely comprehend it.
PRINCESS. Reverend sir! You shall not comprehend it. Not for all The world would I you comprehended it. Enough for you it is so--spare yourself The trouble to investigate in thought, Whose eloquence hath wrought this wondrous change. But for your comfort let me add, you have No hand in this misdeed,--nor has the church. Although you've proved that cases might arise Wherein the church, to gain some noble end, Might use the persons of her youthful daughters! Such reasonings move not me; such motives, pure, Right reverend sir, are far too high for me.
DOMINGO. When they become superfluous, your grace, I willingly retract them.
PRINCESS. Seek the king, And ask him as from me, that he will not Mistake me in this business. What I have been That am I still. 'Tis but the course of things Has changed. When I in anger spurned his suit, I deemed him truly happy in possessing Earth's fairest queen. I thought his faithful wife Deserved my sacrifice. I thought so then, But now I'm undeceived.
DOMINGO. Princess, go on! I hear it all--we understand each other.
PRINCESS. Enough. She is found out. I will not spare her. The hypocrite's unmasked!--She has deceived The king, all Spain, and me. She loves, I know She loves! I can bring proofs that will make you tremble. The king has been deceived--but he shall not, By heaven, go unrevenged! The saintly mask Of pure and superhuman self-denial I'll tear from her deceitful brow, that all May see the forehead of the shameless sinner. 'Twill cost me dear, but here my triumph lies, That it will cost her infinitely more.
DOMINGO. Now all is ripe, let me call in the duke.
[Goes out.
PRINCESS (astonished). What means all this?
Act II, Scene XII
The PRINCESS, DUKE ALVA, DOMINGO.
DOMINGO (leading the DUKE in). Our tidings, good my lord, Come somewhat late. The Princess Eboli Reveals to us a secret we had meant Ourselves to impart to her.
ALVA. My visit, then, Will not so much surprise her, but I never Trust my own eyes in these discoveries. They need a woman's more discerning glance.
PRINCESS. Discoveries! How mean you?
DOMINGO. Would we knew What place and fitter season you----
PRINCESS. Just So! To-morrow noon I will expect you both. Reasons I have why this clandestine guilt Should from the king no longer be concealed.
ALVA. 'Tis this that brings us here. The king must know it. And he shall hear the news from you, princess, From you alone:--for to what tongue would he Afford such ready credence as to yours, Friend and companion ever of his spouse?
DOMINGO. As yours, who more than any one at will Can o'er him exercise supreme command.
ALVA. I am the prince's open enemy.
DOMINGO. And that is what the world believes of me. The Princess Eboli's above suspicion. We are compelled to silence, but your duty, The duty of your office, calls on you To speak. The king shall not escape our hands. Let your hints rouse him, we'll complete the work.
ALVA. It must be done at once, without delay; Each moment now is precious. In an hour The order may arrive for my departure.
DOMINGO (after a short pause, turns to the PRINCESS). Cannot some letters be discovered? Truly, An intercepted letter from the prince Would work with rare effect. Ay! let me see-- Is it not so? You sleep, princess, I think, In the same chamber with her majesty?
PRINCESS. The next to hers. But of what use is that?
DOMINGO. Oh, for some skill in locks! Have you observed Where she is wont to keep her casket key?
PRINCESS (in thought). Yes, that might lead to something; yes, I think The key is to be found.
DOMINGO. Letters, you know, Need messengers. Her retinue is large; Who do you think could put us on the scent? Gold can do much.
ALVA. Can no one tell us whether The prince has any trusty confidant?
DOMINGO. Not one; in all Madrid not one.
ALVA. That's strange!
DOMINGO. Rely on me in this. He holds in scorn The universal court. I have my proofs.
ALVA. Stay! It occurs to me, as I was leaving The queen's apartments, I beheld the prince In private conference with a page of hers.
PRINCESS (suddenly interrupting). O no! that must have been of something else.
DOMINGO. Could we not ascertain the fact? It seems Suspicious. [To the DUKE. Did you know the page, my lord!
PRINCESS. Some trifle; what else could it be? Enough, I'm sure of that. So we shall meet again Before I see the king; and by that time We may discover much.
DOMINGO (leading her aside). What of the king? Say, may he hope? May I assure him so? And the entrancing hour which shall fulfil His fond desires, what shall I say of that?
PRINCESS. In a few days I will feign sickness, and Shall be excused from waiting on the queen. Such is, you know, the custom of the court, And I may then remain in my apartment.
DOMINGO. 'Tis well devised! Now the great game is won, And we may bid defiance to all queens!
PRINCESS. Hark! I am called. I must attend the queen, So fare you well. [Exit.
Act II, Scene XIII
ALVA and DOMINGO.
DOMINGO (after a pause, during which he has watched the PRINCESS). My lord! these roses, and-- Your battles----
ALVA. And your god!--why, even so Thus we'll await the lightning that will scathe us!
[Exeunt.
Act II, Scene XIV
A Carthusian Convent. DON CARLOS and the PRIOR.
CARLOS (to the PRIOR, as he comes in). Been here already? I am sorry for it.
PRIOR. Yes, thrice since morning. 'Tis about an hour Since he went hence.
CARLOS. But he will sure return. Has he not left some message?
PRIOR. Yes; he promised To come again at noon.
CARLOS (going to a window, and looking round the country). Your convent lies Far from the public road. Yonder are seen The turrets of Madrid--just so--and there The Mansanares flows. The scenery is Exactly to my wish, and all around Is calm and still as secrecy itself.
PRIOR. Or as the entrance to another world.
CARLOS. Most worthy sir, to your fidelity And honor, have I now intrusted all I hold most dear and sacred in the world. No mortal man must know, or even suspect, With whom I here hold secret assignation. Most weighty reasons prompt me to deny, To all the world, the friend whom I expect, Therefore I choose this convent. Are we safe From traitors and surprise? You recollect What you have sworn.
PRIOR. Good sir, rely on us. A king's suspicion cannot pierce the grave, And curious ears haunts only those resorts Where wealth and passion dwell--but from these walls The world's forever banished.
CARLOS. You may think, Perhaps, beneath this seeming fear and caution There lies a guilty conscience?
PRIOR. I think nothing.
CARLOS. If you imagine this, most holy father, You err--indeed you err. My secret shuns The sight of man--but not the eye of God.
PRIOR. Such things concern us little. This retreat To guilt, and innocence alike, is open, And whether thy designs be good or ill, Thy purpose criminal or virtuous,--that We leave to thee to settle with thy heart.
CARLOS (with warmth). Our purpose never can disgrace your God. 'Tis his own noblest work. To you indeed, I may reveal it.
PRIOR. To what end, I pray? Forego, dear prince, this needless explanation. The world and all its troubles have been long Shut from my thoughts--in preparation for My last long journey. Why recall them to me For the brief space that must precede my death? 'Tis little for salvation that we need-- But the bell rings, and summons me to prayer.
[Exit PRIOR.
Act II, Scene XV
DON CARLOS; the MARQUIS POSA enters.
CARLOS. At length once more,--at length----
MARQUIS. Oh, what a trial For the impatience of a friend! The sun Has risen twice--twice set--since Carlos' fate Has been resolved, and am I only now To learn it: speak,--you're reconciled!
CARLOS. With whom?
MARQUIS. The king! And Flanders, too,--its fate is settled!
CARLOS. The duke sets out to-morrow. That is fixed.
MARQUIS. That cannot be--it is not surely so. Can all Madrid be so deceived? 'Tis said You had a private audience, and the king----
CARLOS. Remained inflexible, and we are now Divided more than ever.
MARQUIS. Do you go To Flanders?
CARLOS. No!
MARQUIS. Alas! my blighted hopes!
CARLOS. Of this hereafter. Oh, Roderigo! since We parted last, what have I not endured? But first thy counsel? I must speak with her!
MARQUIS. Your mother? No! But wherefore?
CARLOS. I have hopes-- But you turn pale! Be calm--I should be happy. And I shall be so: but of this anon-- Advise me now, how I may speak with her.
MARQUIS. What mean you? What new feverish dream is this?
CARLOS. By the great God of wonders 'tis no dream! 'Tis truth, reality---- [Taking out the KING's letter to the PRINCESS EBOLI. Contained in this Important paper--yes, the queen is free,-- Free before men and in the eyes of heaven; There read, and cease to wonder at my words.
MARQUIS (opening the letter). What do I here behold? The king's own hand! [After he has read it. To whom addressed?
CARLOS. To Princess Eboli. Two days ago, a page who serves the queen, Brought me, from unknown hands, a key and letter, Which said that in the left wing of the palace, Where the queen lodges, lay a cabinet,-- That there a lady whom I long had loved Awaited me. I straight obeyed the summons.
MARQUIS. Fool! madman! you obeyed it----
CARLOS. Not that I The writing knew; but there was only one Such woman, who could think herself adored By Carlos. With delight intoxicate I hastened to the spot. A heavenly song, Re-echoing from the innermost apartment, Served me for guide. I reached the cabinet-- I entered and beheld--conceive my wonder!
MARQUIS. I guess it all----
CARLOS. I had been lost forever, But that I fell into an angel's hands! She, hapless chance, by my imprudent looks, Deceived, had yielded to the sweet delusion And deemed herself the idol of my soul. Moved by the silent anguish of my breast, With thoughtless generosity, her heart Nobly determined to return my love; Deeming respectful fear had caused my silence, She dared to speak, and all her lovely soul Laid bare before me.
MARQUIS. And with calm composure, You tell this tale! The Princess Eboli Saw through your heart; and doubtless she has pierced The inmost secret of your hidden love. You've wronged her deeply, and she rules the king.
CARLOS (confidently). But she is virtuous!
MARQUIS. She may be so From love's mere selfishness. But much I fear Such virtue--well I know it: know how little It hath the power to soar to that ideal, Which, first conceived in sweet and stately grace, From the pure soul's maternal soil, puts forth Spontaneous shoots, nor asks the gardener's aid To nurse its lavish blossoms into life. 'Tis but a foreign plant, with labor reared, And warmth that poorly imitates the south, In a cold soil and an unfriendly clime. Call it what name you will--or education, Or principle, or artificial virtue Won from the heat of youth by art and cunning, In conflicts manifold--all noted down With scrupulous reckoning to that heaven's account, Which is its aim, and will requite its pains. Ask your own heart! Can she forgive the queen That you should scorn her dearly-purchased virtue, To pine in hopeless love for Philip's wife.
CARLOS. Knowest thou the princess, then, so well?
MARQUIS. Not I-- I've scarcely seen her twice. And yet thus much I may remark. To me she still appears To shun alone the nakedness of vice, Too weakly proud of her imagined virtue. And then I mark the queen. How different, Carlos, Is everything that I behold in her! In native dignity, serene and calm, Wearing a careless cheerfulness--unschooled In all the trained restraints of conduct, far Removed from boldness and timidity, With firm, heroic step, she walks along The narrow middle path of rectitude, Unconscious of the worship she compels, Where she of self-approval never dreamed. Say, does my Carlos in this mirror trace The features of his Eboli? The princess Was constant while she loved; love was the price, The understood condition of her virtue. You failed to pay that price--'twill therefore fall.
CARLOS (with warmth). No, no! [Hastily pacing the apartment. I tell thee, no! And, Roderigo, Ill it becomes thee thus to rob thy Carlos Of his high trust in human excellence, His chief, his dearest joy!
MARQUIS. Deserve I this? Friend of my soul, this would I never do-- By heaven I would not. Oh, this Eboli! She were an angel to me, and before Her glory would I bend me prostrate down, In reverence deep as thine, if she were not The mistress of thy secret.
CARLOS. See how vain, How idle are thy fears! What proofs has she That will not stamp her maiden brow with shame? Say, will she purchase with her own dishonor The wretched satisfaction of revenge?
MARQUIS. Ay! to recall a blush, full many a one Has doomed herself to infamy.
CARLOS (with increased vehemence). Nay, that Is far too harsh--and cruel! She is proud And noble; well I know her, and fear nothing. Vain are your efforts to alarm my hopes. I must speak to my mother.
MARQUIS. Now? for what?
CARLOS. Because I've nothing more to care for now. And I must know my fate. Only contrive That I may speak with her.
MARQUIS. And wilt thou show This letter to her?
CARLOS. Question me no more, But quickly find the means that I may see her.
MARQUIS (significantly). Didst thou not tell me that thou lov'st thy mother? And wouldst thou really show this letter to her?
[CARLOS fixes his eyes on the ground, and remains silent.
I read a something, Carlos, in thy looks Unknown to me before. Thou turn'st thine eyes Away from me. Then it is true, and have I Judged thee aright? Here, let me see that paper.
[CARLOS gives him the letter, and the MARQUIS tears it.
CARLOS. What! art thou mad? [Moderating his warmth. In truth--I must confess it, That letter was of deepest moment to me.
MARQUIS. So it appeared: on that account I tore it.
[The MARQUIS casts a penetrating look on the PRINCE, who surveys him with doubt and surprise. A long silence.
Now speak to me with candor, Carlos. What Have desecrations of the royal bed To do with thee--thy love? Dost thou fear Philip? How are a husband's violated duties Allied with thee and thy audacious hopes? Has he sinned there, where thou hast placed thy love? Now then, in truth, I learn to comprehend thee-- How ill till now I've understood thy love!
CARLOS. What dost thou think, Roderigo?
MARQUIS. Oh, I feel From what it is that I must wean myself. Once it was otherwise! Yes, once thy soul Was bounteous, rich, and warm, and there was room For a whole world in thy expanded heart. Those feelings are extinct--all swallowed up In one poor, petty, selfish passion. Now Thy heart is withered, dead! No tears last thou For the unhappy fate of wretched Flanders-- No, not another tear. Oh, Carlos! see How poor, how beggarly, thou hast become, Since all thy love has centered in thyself!
CARLOS (flings himself into a chair. After a pause, with scarcely suppressed tears). Too well I know thou lovest me no more!
MARQUIS. Not so, my Carlos. Well I understand This fiery passion: 'tis the misdirection Of feelings pure and noble in themselves. The queen belonged to thee: the king, thy father, Despoiled thee of her--yet till now thou hast Been modestly distrustful of thy claims. Philip, perhaps, was worthy of her! Thou Scarce dared to breathe his sentence in a whisper-- This letter has resolved thy doubts, and proved Thou art the worthier man. With haughty joy Thou saw'st before thee rise the doom that waits On tyranny convicted of a theft, But thou wert proud to be the injured one: Wrongs undeserved great souls can calmly suffer, Yet here thy fancy played thee false: thy pride Was touched with satisfaction, and thy heart Allowed itself to hope: I plainly saw This time, at least, thou didst not know thyself.
CARLOS (with emotion). Thou'rt wrong, Roderigo; for my thoughts were far Less noble than thy goodness would persuade me.
MARQUIS. And am I then e'en here so little known? See, Carlos, when thou errest, 'tis my way, Amid a hundred virtues, still to find That one to which I may impute thy fall. Now, then, we understand each other better, And thou shalt have an audience of the queen.
CARLOS (falling on his neck). Oh, how I blush beside thee!
MARQUIS. Take my word, And leave the rest to me. A wild, bold thought, A happy thought is dawning in my mind; And thou shalt hear it from a fairer mouth, I hasten to the queen. Perhaps to-morrow Thy wish may be achieved. Till then, my Carlos, Forget not this--"That a design conceived Of lofty reason, which involves the fate, The sufferings of mankind, though it be baffled Ten thousand times, should never be abandoned." Dost hear? Remember Flanders.
CARLOS. Yes! all, all That thou and virtue bid me not forget.
MARQUIS (going to a window). The time is up--I hear thy suite approaching. [They embrace. Crown prince again, and the vassal.
CARLOS. Dost thou go Straight to Madrid?
MARQUIS. Yes, straight.
CARLOS. Hold! one word more. How nearly it escaped me! Yet 'twas news Of deep importance. "Every letter now Sent to Brabant is opened by the king!" So be upon thy guard. The royal post Has secret orders.
MARQUIS. How have you learned this?
CARLOS. Don Raymond Taxis is my trusty friend.
MARQUIS (after a pause). Well! then they may be sent through Germany.
[Exeunt on different sides.
Act III, Scene I
The king's bedchamber. On the toilet two burning lights. In the background several pages asleep resting on their knees. The KING, in half undress, stands before the table, with one arm bent over the chair, in a reflecting posture. Before him is a medallion and papers.
KING. Of a warm fancy she has ever been! Who can deny it? I could never love her, Yet has she never seemed to miss my love. And so 'tis plain--she's false!
[Makes a movement which brings him to himself. He looks round with surprise.
Where have I been? Is no one watching here, then, save the king? The light's burnt out, and yet it is not day. I must forego my slumbers for to-night. Take it, kind nature, for enjoyed! No time Have monarchs to retrieve the nights they lose. I'm now awake, and day it shall be.
[He puts out the candles, and draws aside the window-curtain. He observes the sleeping pages--remains for some time standing before them--then rings a bell.
All Asleep within the antechamber, too?
Act III, Scene II
The KING, COUNT LERMA.
LERMA (surprised at seeing the KING). Does not your majesty feel well?
KING. The left Pavilion of the palace was in flames: Did you not hear the alarum?
LERMA. No, my liege.
KING. No! What? And did I only dream it then? 'Twas surely real! Does not the queen sleep there?
LERMA. She does, your majesty.
KING. This dream affrights me! In future let the guards be doubled there As soon as it grows dark. Dost hear? And yet Let it be done in secret. I would not---- Why do you gaze on me?
LERMA. Your bloodshot eyes, I mark, that beg repose. Dare I remind My liege of an inestimable life, And of your subjects, who with pale dismay Would in such features read of restless nights? But two brief hours of morning sleep would----
KING (with troubled look). Shall I find sleep within the Escurial? Let the king sleep, and he may lose his crown, The husband, his wife's heart. But no! not so; This is but slander. Was it not a woman Whispered the crime to me? Woman, thy name Is calumny? The deed I'll hold unproved, Until a man confirms the fatal truth!
[To the pages, who in the meanwhile have awaked.
Summon Duke Alva! [Pages go.
Count, come nearer to me.
[Fixes a searching look on the COUNT.
Is all this true? Oh for omniscience now, Though but so long as a man's pulse might beat. Is it true? Upon your oath! Am I deceived?
LERMA. My great, my best of kings!
KING (drawing back). King! naught but king! And king again! No better answer than Mere hollow echo! When I strike this rock For water, to assuage my burning thirst, It gives me molten gold.
LERMA. What true, my liege?
KING. Oh, nothing, nothing! Leave me! Get thee gone!
[The COUNT going, the KING calls him back again.
Say, are you married? and are you a father?
LERMA. I am, your majesty.
KING. What! married--yet You dare to watch a night here with your king! Your hair is gray, and yet you do not blush To think your wife is honest. Get thee home; You'll find her locked, this moment, in your son's Incestuous embrace. Believe your king. Now go; you stand amazed; you stare at me With searching eye, because of my gray hairs. Unhappy man, reflect. Queens never taint Their virtue thus: doubt it, and you shall die!
LERMA (with warmth). Who dare do so? In all my monarch's realms Who has the daring hardihood to breathe Suspicion on her angel purity? To slander thus the best of queens----
KING. The best! The best, from you, too! She has ardent friends, I find, around. It must have cost her much-- More than methinks she could afford to give. You are dismissed; now send the duke to me.
LERMA. I hear him in the antechamber. [Going.
KING (with a milder tone). Count, What you observed is very true. My head Burns with the fever of this sleepless night! What I have uttered in this waking dream, Mark you, forget! I am your gracious king!
[Presents his hand to kiss. Exit LERMA, opening the door at the same time to DUKE ALVA.
Act III, Scene III
The KING and DUKE ALVA.
ALVA (approaching the KING with an air of doubt). This unexpected order, at so strange An hour! [Starts on looking closer at the KING. And then those looks!
KING (has seated himself, and taken hold of the medallion on the table. Looks at the DUKE for some time in silence). Is it true I have no faithful servant!
ALVA. How?
KING. A blow Aimed at my life in its most vital part! Full well 'twas known, yet no one warned me of it.
ALVA (with a look of astonishment). A blow aimed at your majesty! and yet Escape your Alva's eye?
KING (showing him letters). Know you this writing?
ALVA. It is the prince's hand.
KING (a pause--watches the DUKE closely). Do you suspect Then nothing? Often have you cautioned me Gainst his ambition. Was there nothing more Than his ambition should have made me tremble?
ALVA. Ambition is a word of largest import, And much it may comprise.
KING. And had you naught Of special purport to disclose?
ALVA (after a pause, mysteriously). Your majesty Hath given the kingdom's welfare to my charge: On this my inmost, secret thoughts are bent, And my best vigilance. Beyond this charge What I may think, suspect, or know belongs To me alone. These are the sacred treasures Which not the vassal only, but the slave, The very slave, may from a king withhold. Not all that to my mind seems plain is yet Mature enough to meet the monarch's ear. Would he be answered--then must I implore He will not question as a king.
KING (handing the letters). Read these.
ALVA (reads them, and turns to the KING with a look of terror). Who was the madman placed these fatal papers In my king's bands?
KING. You know, then, who is meant? No name you see is mentioned in the paper.
ALVA (stepping back confused). I was too hasty!
KING. But you know!
ALVA (after some consideration). 'Tis spoken! The king commands,--I dare not now conceal. I'll not deny it--I do know the person.
KING (starting up in violent emotion). God of revenge! inspire me to invent Some new, unheard-of torture! Is their crime So clear, so plain, so public to the world, That without e'en the trouble of inquiry The veriest hint suffices to reveal it? This is too much! I did not dream of this! I am the last of all, then, to discern it-- The last in all my realm?
ALVA (throwing himself at the KING'S feet). Yes, I confess My guilt, most gracious monarch. I'm ashamed A coward prudence should have tied my tongue When truth, and justice, and my sovereign's honor Urged me to speak. But since all else are silent And since the magic spell of beauty binds All other tongues, I dare to give it voice; Though well I know a son's warm protestations, A wife's seductive charms and winning tears----
KING (suddenly with warmth). Rise, Alva! thou hast now my royal promise; Rise, and speak fearlessly!
ALVA (rising). Your majesty, Perchance, may bear in your remembrance still What happened in the garden at Aranjuez. You found the queen deserted by her ladies, With looks confused--alone, within a bower,--
KING. Proceed. What further have I yet to hear?
ALVA. The Marchioness of Mondecar was banished Because she boldly sacrificed herself To save the queen! It has been since discovered She did no more than she had been commanded. Prince Carlos had been there.
KING (starting). The prince! What more?
ALVA. Upon the ground the footsteps of a man Were traced, till finally they disappeared Close to a grotto, leftward of the bower, Where lay a handkerchief the prince had dropped. This wakened our suspicions. But besides, The gardener met the prince upon the spot,-- Just at the time, as near as we can guess, Your majesty appeared within the walk.
KING (recovering from gloomy thought). And yet she wept when I but seemed to doubt! She made me blush before the assembled court, Blush to my very self! By heaven! I stood In presence of her virtue, like a culprit.
[A long and deep silence. He sits down and hides his face.
Yes, Alva, you are right! All this may lead To something dreadful--leave me for a moment----
ALVA. But, gracious sire, all this is not enough----
KING (snatching up the papers). Nor this, nor this?--nor all the harmony Of these most damning proofs? 'Tis clear as day-- I knew it long ago--their heinous guilt Began when first I took her from your hands, Here in Madrid. I think I see her now, With look of horror, pale as midnight ghost, Fixing her eyes upon my hoary hair! 'Twas then the treacherous game began!
ALVA. The prince, In welcoming a mother--lost his bride! Long had they nursed a mutual passion, long Each other's ardent feelings understood, Which her new state forbade her to indulge. The fear which still attends love's first avowal Was long subdued. Seduction, bolder grown, Spoke in those forms of easy confidence Which recollections of the past allowed. Allied by harmony of souls and years, And now by similar restraints provoked, They readily obeyed their wild desires. Reasons of state opposed their early union-- But can it, sire, be thought she ever gave To the state council such authority? That she subdued the passion of her soul To scrutinize with more attentive eye The election of the cabinet. Her heart Was bent on love, and won a diadem.
KING (offended, and with bitterness). You are a nice observer, duke, and I Admire your eloquence. I thank you truly. [Rising coldly and haughtily. But you are right. The queen has deeply erred In keeping from me letters of such import, And in concealing the intrusive visit The prince paid in the garden:--from a false Mistaken honor she has deeply erred And I shall question further. [Ringing the bell. Who waits now Within the antechamber? You, Duke Alva, I need no longer. Go.
ALVA. And has my zeal A second time displeased your majesty?
KING (to a page who enters). Summon Domingo. Duke, I pardon you For having made me tremble for a moment, With secret apprehension, lest yourself Might fall a victim to a foul misdeed.
[Exit ALVA.
Act III, Scene IV
The KING, DOMINGO. KING walks up and down the room to collect his thoughts.
DOMINGO (after contemplating the KING for some time with a respectful silence). How joyfully surprised I am to find Your majesty so tranquil and collected.
KING. Surprised!
DOMINGO. And heaven be thanked my fears were groundless! Now may I hope the best.
KING. Your fears! What feared you?
DOMINGO. I dare not hide it from your majesty That I had learned a secret----
KING (gloomily). And have I Expressed a wish to share your secret with you? Who ventures to anticipate me thus? Too forward, by mine honor!
DOMINGO. Gracious monarch! The place, the occasion, seal of secrecy 'Neath which I learned it--free me from this charge. It was intrusted to me at the seat Of penitence--intrusted as a crime That deeply weighed upon the tender soul Of the fair sinner who confessed her guilt, And sought the pardon of offended heaven. Too late the princess weeps a foul misdeed That may involve the queen herself in ruin.
KING. Indeed! Kind soul! You have correctly guessed The occasion of your summons. You must guide me Through this dark labyrinth wherein blind zeal Has tangled me. From you I hope for truth. Be candid with me; what must I believe, And what determine? From your sacred office I look for strictest truth.
DOMINGO. And if, my liege, The mildness ever incident to this My holy calling, did not such restraint Impose upon me, still I would entreat Your majesty, for your own peace of mind, To urge no further this discovery, And cease forever to pursue a secret Which never can be happily explained. All that is yet discovered may be pardoned. Let the king say the word--and then the queen Has never sinned. The monarch's will bestows Virtue and fortune, both with equal ease. And the king's undisturbed tranquillity Is, in itself, sufficient to destroy The rumors set on foot by calumny.
KING. What! Rumors! and of me! among my subjects!
DOMINGO. All falsehood, sire! Naught but the vilest falsehood! I'll swear 'tis false! Yet what's believed by all, Groundless and unconfirmed although it be, Works its effect, as sure as truth itself.
KING. Not in this case, by heaven!
DOMINGO. A virtuous name Is, after all, my liege, the only prize Which queens and peasants' wives contest together.
KING. For which I surely have no need to tremble.
[He looks doubtingly at DOMINGO. After a pause.
Priest, thou hast something fearful to impart. Delay it not. I read it plainly stamped In thy ill-boding looks. Then out with it, Whate'er it be. Let me no longer tremble Upon the rack. What do the people say?
DOMINGO. The people, sire, are liable to err, Nay err assuredly. What people think Should not alarm the king. Yet that they should Presume so far as to indulge such thoughts----
KING. Why must I beg this poisonous draught so long?
DOMINGO. The people often muse upon that month Which brought your majesty so near the grave, From that time, thirty weeks had scarce elapsed, Before the queen's delivery was announced.
[The KING rises and rings the bell. DUKE ALVA enters. DOMINGO alarmed.
I am amazed, your majesty!
KING (going towards ALVA). Toledo! You are a man--defend me from this priest!
DOMINGO (he and DUKE ALVA exchange embarrassed looks. After a pause). Could we have but foreseen that this occurrence Would be avenged upon its mere relater.
KING. Said you a bastard? I had scarce, you say, Escaped the pangs of death when first she felt She should, in nature's time, become a mother. Explain how this occurred! 'Twas then, if I Remember right, that you, in every church, Ordered devotions to St. Dominick, For the especial wonder he vouchsafed. On one side or the other, then, you lie! What would you have me credit? Oh, I see Full plainly through you now! If this dark plot Had then been ripe your saint had lost his fame.
ALVA. This plot?
KING. How can you with a harmony So unexampled in your very thoughts Concur, and not have first conspired together? Would you persuade me thus? Think you that I Perceived not with what eagerness you pounced Upon your prey? With what delight you fed Upon my pain,--my agony of grief? Full well I marked the ardent, burning zeal With which the duke forestalled the mark of grace I destined for my son. And how this priest Presumed to fortify his petty spleen With my wrath's giant arm! I am, forsooth, A bow which each of you may bend at pleasure But I have yet a will. And if I needs Must doubt--perhaps I may begin with you.
ALVA. Reward like this our truth did ne'er expect.
KING. Your truth! Truth warns of apprehended danger. 'Tis malice that speaks only of the past. What can I gain by your officiousness? Should your suspicion ripen to full truth, What follows but the pangs of separation, The melancholy triumphs of revenge? But no: you only fear--you feed me with Conjectures vague. To hell's profound abyss You lead me on, then flee yourself away.
DOMINGO. What other proofs than these are possible, When our own eyes can scarcely trust themselves?
KING (after a long pause, turning earnestly and solemnly towards DOMINGO). The grandees of the realm shall be convened, And I will sit in judgment. Then step forth In front of all, if you have courage for it, And charge her as a strumpet. She shall die-- Die without mercy--and the prince, too, with her! But mark me well: if she but clear herself That doom shall fall on you. Now, dare you show Honor to truth by such a sacrifice? Determine. No, you dare not. You are silent. Such is the zeal of liars!
ALVA (who has stood at a distance, answers coldly and calmly). I will do it.
KING (turns round with astonishment and looks at the DUKE for a long time without moving). That's boldly said! But thou hast risked thy life In stubborn conflicts for far less a prize. Has risked it with a gamester's recklessness-- For honor's empty bubble. What is life To thee? I'll not expose the royal blood To such a madman's power, whose highest hope Must be to yield his wretched being up With some renown. I spurn your offer. Go; And wait my orders in the audience chamber.
[Exeunt.
Act III, Scene V
The KING alone.
Now give me, gracious Providence! a man. Thou'st given me much already. Now vouchsafe me A man! for thou alone canst grant the boon. Thine eye doth penetrate all hidden things Oh! give me but a friend: for I am not Omniscient like to thee. The ministers Whom thou hast chosen for me thou dost know-- And their deserts: and as their merits claim, I value them. Their subjugated vices, Coerced by rein severe, serve all my ends, As thy storms purify this nether world. I thirst for truth. To reach its tranquil spring, Through the dark heaps of thick surrounding error, Is not the lot of kings. Give me the man, So rarely found, of pure and open heart, Of judgment clear, and eye unprejudiced, To aid me in the search. I cast the lots. And may I find that man, among the thousands Who flutter in the sunshine of a court.
[He opens an escritoire and takes out a portfolio. After turning over the leaves a long time.
Nothing but names, mere names are here:--no note E'en of the services to which they owe Their place upon the roll! Oh, what can be Of shorter memory than gratitude! Here, in this other list, I read each fault Most accurately marked. That is not well! Can vengeance stand in need of such a help?
[He reads further.
Count Egmont! What doth he here? Long ago The victory of St. Quentin is forgotten. I place him with the dead.
[He effaces this name and writes it on the other roll after he has read further.
The Marquis Posa!
The Marquis Posa! I can scarce recall This person to mind. And doubly marked! A proof I destined him for some great purpose. How is it possible? This man, till now, Has ever shunned my presence--still has fled His royal debtor's eye? The only man, By heaven, within the compass of my realm, Who does not court my favor. Did he burn With avarice, or ambition, long ago He had appeared before my throne. I'll try This wondrous man. He who can thus dispense With royalty will doubtless speak the truth.
Act III, Scene VI
The Audience Chamber.
DON CARLOS in conversation with the PRINCE of PARMA. DUKES ALVA, FERIA, and MEDINA SIDONIA, COUNT LERMA, and other GRANDEES, with papers in their hands, awaiting the KING.
MEDINA SIDONIA (seems to be shunned by all the GRANDEES, turns towards DUKE ALVA, who, alone and absorbed in himself, walks up and down). Duke, you have had an audience of the king? How did you find him minded?
ALVA. Somewhat ill For you, and for the news you bring.
MEDINA SIDONIA. My heart Was lighter 'mid the roar of English cannon Than here on Spanish ground.
[CARLOS, who had regarded him with silent sympathy, now approaches him and presses his hand.
My warmest thanks, Prince, for this generous tear. You may perceive How all avoid me. Now my fate is sealed.
CARLOS. Still hope the best both from my father's favor, And your own innocence.
MEDINA SIDONIA. Prince, I have lost A fleet more mighty than e'er ploughed the waves. And what is such a head as mine to set 'Gainst seventy sunken galleons? And therewith Five hopeful sons! Alas! that breaks my heart.
Act III, Scene VII
The KING enters from his chamber, attired. The former all uncover and make room on both sides, while they form a semicircle round him. Silence.
KING (rapidly surveying the whole circle). Be covered, all.
[DON CARLOS and the PRINCE of PARMA approach first and kiss the KING's hand: he turns with friendly mien to the latter, taking no notice of his son.
Your mother, nephew, fain Would be informed what favor you have won Here in Madrid.
PARMA. That question let her ask When I have fought my maiden battle, sire.
KING. Be satisfied; your turn will come at last, When these old props decay. [To the DUKE OF FERIA. What brings you here?
FERIA (kneeling to the KING). The master, sire, of Calatrava's order This morning died. I here return his cross.
KING (takes the order and looks round the whole circle). And who is worthiest after him to wear it?
[He beckons to DUKE ALVA, who approaches and bends on one knee. The KING hangs the order on his neck.
You are my ablest general! Ne'er aspire To more, and, duke, my favors shall not fail you.
[He perceives the DUKE of MEDINA SIDONIA.
My admiral!
MEDINA SIDONIA. And here you see, great king, All that remains of the Armada's might, And of the flower of Spain.
KING (after a pause). God rules above us! I sent you to contend with men, and not With rocks and storms. You're welcome to Madrid.
[Extending his hand to him to kiss.
I thank you for preserving in yourself A faithful servant to me. For as such I value him, my lords; and 'tis my will That you should honor him.
[He motions him to rise and cover himself, then turns to the others.
What more remains?
[To DON CARLOS and the PRINCE OF PARMA.
Princes, I thank you.
[They retire; the other GRANDEES approach, and kneeling, hand their papers to the KING. He looks over them rapidly, and hands them to DUKE ALVA.
Duke, let these be laid Before me in the council. Who waits further?
[No one answers.
How comes it that amidst my train of nobles The Marquis Posa ne'er appears? I know This Marquis Posa served me with distinction. Does he still live? Why is he not among you?
LERMA. The chevalier is just returned from travel, Completed through all Europe. He is now Here in Madrid, and waits a public day To cast himself before his sovereign's feet.
ALVA. The Marquis Posa? Right, he is the same Bold Knight of Malta, sire, of whom renown Proclaims this gallant deed. Upon a summons Of the Grand Master, all the valiant knights Assembled in their island, at that time Besieged by Soliman. This noble youth, Scarce numbering eighteen summers, straightway fled From Alcala, where he pursued his studies, And suddenly arrived at La Valette. "This Cross," he said, "was bought for me; and now To prove I'm worthy of it." He was one Of forty knights who held St. Elmo's Castle, At midday, 'gainst Piali, Ulucciali, And Mustapha, and Hassem; the assault Being thrice repeated. When the castle fell, And all the valiant knights were killed around him, He plunged into the ocean, and alone Reached La Valette in safety. Two months after The foe deserts the island, and the knight Returned to end his interrupted studies.
FERIA. It was the Marquis Posa, too, who crushed The dread conspiracy in Catalonia; And by his marked activity preserved That powerful province to the Spanish crown.
KING. I am amazed! What sort of man is this Who can deserve so highly, yet awake No pang of envy in the breasts of three Who speak his praise? The character he owns Must be of noble stamp indeed, or else A very blank. I'm curious to behold This wondrous man. [To DUKE ALVA. Conduct him to the council When mass is over. [Exit DUKE. The KING calls FERIA. And do you preside Here in my place. [Exit.
FERIA. The king is kind to-day.
MEDIA SIDONIA. Call him a god! So he has proved to me!
FERIA. You well deserve your fortune, admiral! You have my warmest wishes.
ONE OF THE GRANDEES. Sir, and mine.
A SECOND. And also mine.
A THIRD. My heart exults with joy-- So excellent a general!
THE FIRST. The king Showed you no kindness, 'twas your strict desert.
LERMA (to MEDINA SIDONIA, taking leave). Oh, how two little words have made your fortune!
[Exeunt all.
Act III, Scene VIII
The KING's Cabinet. MARQUIS POSA and DUKE ALVA.
MARQUIS (as he enters). Does he want me? What me? Impossible! You must mistake the name. What can he want With me?
ALVA. To know you.
MARQUIS. Curiosity! No more; I regret the precious minutes That I must lose: time passes swiftly by.
ALVA. I now commend you to your lucky stars. The king is in your hands. Employ this moment To your own best advantage; for, remember, If it is lost, you are alone to blame.
Act III, Scene IX
The MARQUIS alone.
MARQUIS. Duke, 'tis well spoken! Turn to good account The moment which presents itself but once! Truly this courtier reads a useful lesson If not in his sense good, at least in mine.
[Walks a few steps backwards and forwards.
How came I here? Is it caprice or chance That shows me now my image in this mirror? Why, out of millions, should it picture me-- The most unlikely--and present my form To the king's memory? Was this but chance? Perhaps 'twas something more!--what else is chance But the rude stone which from the sculptor's hand Receives its life? Chance comes from Providence, And man must mould it to his own designs. What the king wants with me but little matters; I know the business I shall have with him. Were but one spark of truth with boldness flung Into the despot's soul, how fruitful 'twere In the kind hand of Providence; and so What first appeared capricious act of chalice, May be designed for some momentous end. Whate'er it be, I'll act on this belief.
[He takes a few turns in the room, and stands at last in tranquil contemplation before a painting. The KING appears in the neighboring room, where he gives some orders. He then enters and stands motionless at the door, and contemplates the MARQUIS for some time without being observed.
Act III, Scene X
The KING, and MARQUIS POSA.
The MARQUIS, as soon as he observes the KING, comes forward and sinks on one knee; then rises and remains standing before him without any sign of confusion.
KING (looks at him with surprise). We've met before then?
MARQUIS. No.
KING. You did my crown Some service? Why then do you shun my thanks? My memory is thronged with suitor's claims. One only is omniscient. 'Twas your duty To seek your monarch's eye! Why did you not?
MARQUIS. Two days have scarce elapsed since my return From foreign travel, sire.
KING. I would not stand Indebted to a subject; ask some favor----
MARQUIS. I enjoy the laws.
KING. So does the murderer!
MARQUIS. Then how much more the honest citizen! My lot contents me, sire.
KING (aside). By heavens! a proud And dauntless mind! That was to be expected. Proud I would have my Spaniards. Better far The cup should overflow than not be full. They say you've left my service?
MARQUIS. To make way For some one worthier, I withdrew.
KING. 'Tis pity. When spirits such as yours make holiday, The state must suffer. But perchance you feared To miss the post best suited to your merits.
MARQUIS. Oh, no! I doubt not the experienced judge, In human nature skilled--his proper study,-- Will have discovered at a glance wherein I may be useful to him, wherein not. With deepest gratitude, I feel the favor Wherewith, by so exalted an opinion, Your majesty is loading me; and yet----
[He pauses.
KING. You hesitate?
MARQUIS. I am, I must confess, Sire, at this moment, unprepared to clothe My thoughts, as the world's citizen, in phrase Beseeming to your subject. When I left The court forever, sire, I deemed myself Released from the necessity to give My reasons for this step.
KING. Are they so weak? What do you fear to risk by their disclosure?
MARQUIS. My life at farthest, sire,--were time allowed For me to weary you--but this denied--
Then truth itself must suffer. I must choose 'Twixt your displeasure and contempt. And if I must decide, I rather would appear Worthy of punishment than pity.
KING (with a look of expectation). Well?
MARQUIS. I cannot be the servant of a prince. [The KING looks at him with astonishment. I will not cheat the buyer. Should you deem Me worthy of your service, you prescribe A course of duty for me; you command My arm in battle and my head in council. Then, not my actions, but the applause they meet At court becomes their object. But for me Virtue possesses an intrinsic worth. I would, myself, create that happiness A monarch, with my hand, would seek to plant, And duty's task would prove an inward joy, And be my willing choice. Say, like you this? And in your own creation could you hear A new creator? For I ne'er could stoop To be the chisel where I fain would be-- The sculptor's self. I dearly love mankind, My gracious liege, but in a monarchy I dare not love another than myself.
KING. This ardor is most laudable. You wish To do good deeds to others; how you do them Is but of small account to patriots, Or to the wise. Choose then within these realms The office where you best may satisfy This noble impulse.
MARQUIS. 'Tis not to be found.
KING. How!
MARQUIS. What your majesty would spread abroad, Through these my hands--is it the good of men? Is it the happiness that my pure love Would to mankind impart? Before such bliss Monarchs would tremble. No! Court policy Has raised up new enjoyments for mankind. Which she is always rich enough to grant; And wakened, in the hearts of men, new wishes Which such enjoyments only can content. In her own mint she coins the truth--such truth! As she herself can tolerate: all forms Unlike her own are broken. But is that Which can content the court enough for me? Must my affection for my brother pledge Itself to work my brother injury? To call him happy when he dare not think? Sire, choose not me to spread the happiness Which you have stamped for us. I must decline To circulate such coin. I cannot be The servant of a prince.
KING (suddenly). You are, perhaps, A Protestant?
MARQUIS (after some reflection). Our creeds, my liege, are one. [A pause. I am misunderstood. I feared as much. You see the veil torn by my hand aside From all the mysteries of majesty. Who can assure you I shall still regard As sacred that which ceases to alarm me? I may seem dangerous, because I think Above myself. I am not so, my liege; My wishes lie corroding here. The rage [Laying his hand on his breast. For innovation, which but serves to increase The heavy weight of chains it cannot break, Shall never fire my blood! The world is yet Unripe for my ideal; and I live A citizen of ages yet to come. But does a fancied picture break your rest? A breach of yours destroys it.
KING. Say, am I The first to whom your views are known?
MARQUIS. You are.
KING (rises, walks a few paces and then stops opposite the MARQUIS--aside). This tone, at least, is new; but flattery Exhausts itself. And men of talent still Disdain to imitate. So let us test Its opposite for once. Why should I not? There is a charm in novelty. Should we Be so agreed, I will bethink me now Of some new state employment, in whose duties Your powerful mind----
MARQUIS. Sire, I perceive how small, How mean, your notions are of manly worth. Suspecting, in an honest man's discourse, Naught but a flatterer's artifice--methinks I can explain the cause of this your error. Mankind compel you to it. With free choice They have disclaimed their true nobility, Lowered themselves to their degraded state. Before man's inward worth, as from a phantom, They fly in terror--and contented with Their poverty, they ornament their chains With slavish prudence; and they call it virtue To bear them with a show of resignation. Thus did you find the world, and thus it was By your great father handed o'er to you. In this debased connection--how could you Respect mankind?
KING. Your words contain some truth.
MARQUIS. Alas! that when from the Creator's hand You took mankind, and moulded him to suit Your own ideas, making yourself the god Of this new creature, you should overlook That you yourself remained a human being-- A very man, as from God's hands you came. Still did you feel a mortal's wants and pains. You needed sympathy; but to a God One can but sacrifice, and pray, and tremble-- Wretched exchange! Perversion most unblest Of sacred nature! Once degrade mankind, And make him but a thing to play upon, Who then can share the harmony with you?
KING (aside). By heaven, he moves me!
MARQUIS. But this sacrifice To you is valueless. You thus become A thing apart, a species of your own. This is the price you pay for being a god; 'Twere dreadful were it not so, and if you Gained nothing by the misery of millions! And if the very freedom you destroyed Were the sole blessing that could make you happy. Dismiss me, sire, I pray you; for my theme Bears me too far; my heart is full; too strong The charm, to stand before the only man To whom I may reveal it.
[The COUNT LERMA enters, and whispers a few words to the KING, who signs him to withdraw, and continues sitting in his former posture.
KING (to the MARQUIS, after LERMA is gone). Nay, continue.
MARQUIS (after a pause).
I feel, sire--all the worth----
KING. Proceed; you had Yet more to say to me.
MARQUIS. Your majesty, I lately passed through Flanders and Brabant, So many rich and blooming provinces, Filled with a valiant, great, and honest people. To be the father of a race like this I thought must be divine indeed; and then I stumbled on a heap of burnt men's bones.
[He stops, he fixes a penetrating look on the KING, who endeavors to return his glance; but he looks on the ground, embarrassed and confused.
True, you are forced to act so; but that you Could dare fulfil your task--this fills my soul With shuddering horror! Oh, 'tis pity that The victim, weltering in his blood, must cease To chant the praises of his sacrificer! And that mere men--not beings loftier far-- Should write the history of the world. But soon A milder age will follow that of Philip, An age of truer wisdom; hand in hand, The subjects' welfare and the sovereign's greatness Will walk in union. Then the careful state Will spare her children, and necessity No longer glory to be thus inhuman.
KING. When, think you, would that blessed age arrive, If I had shrunk before the curse of this? Behold my Spain, see here the burgher's good Blooms in eternal and unclouded peace. A peace like this will I bestow on Flanders.
MARQUIS (hastily). The churchyard's peace! And do you hope to end What you have now begun? Say, do you hope To check the ripening change of Christendom, The universal spring, that shall renew The earth's fair form? Would you alone, in Europe, Fling yourself down before the rapid wheel Of destiny, which rolls its ceaseless course, And seize its spokes with human arm. Vain thought! Already thousands have your kingdom fled In joyful poverty: the honest burgher For his faith exiled, was your noblest subject! See! with a mother's arms, Elizabeth Welcomes the fugitives, and Britain blooms In rich luxuriance, from our country's arts. Bereft of the new Christian's industry, Granada lies forsaken, and all Europe Exulting, sees his foe oppressed with wounds, By its own hands inflicted!
[The KING is moved; the MARQUIS observes it, and advances a step nearer.
You would plant For all eternity, and yet the seeds You sow around you are the seeds of death! This hopeless task, with nature's laws at strife, Will ne'er survive the spirit of its founder. You labor for ingratitude; in vain, With nature you engage in desperate struggle-- In vain you waste your high and royal life In projects of destruction. Man is greater Than you esteem him. He will burst the chains Of a long slumber, and reclaim once more His just and hallowed rights. With Nero's name, And fell Busiris', will he couple yours; And--ah! you once deserved a better fate.
KING. How know you that?
MARQUIS. In very truth you did-- Yes, I repeat it--by the Almighty power! Restore us all you have deprived us of, And, generous as strong, let happiness Flow from your horn of plenty--let man's mind Ripen in your vast empire--give us back All you have taken from us--and become, Amidst a thousand kings, a king indeed!
[He advances boldly, and fixes on him a look of earnestness and enthusiasm.
Oh, that the eloquence of all those myriads, Whose fate depends on this momentous hour, Could hover on my lips, and fan the spark That lights thine eye into a glorious flame! Renounce the mimicry of godlike powers Which level us to nothing. Be, in truth, An image of the Deity himself! Never did mortal man possess so much For purpose so divine. The kings of Europe Pay homage to the name of Spain. Be you The leader of these kings. One pen-stroke now, One motion of your hand, can new create The earth! but grant us liberty of thought.
[Casts himself at his feet.
KING (surprised, turns away his face, then again looks towards the MARQUIS). Enthusiast most strange! arise; but I----
MARQUIS. Look round on all the glorious face of nature, On freedom it is founded--see how rich, Through freedom it has grown. The great Creator Bestows upon the worm its drop of dew, And gives free-will a triumph in abodes Where lone corruption reigns. See your creation, How small, how poor! The rustling of a leaf Alarms the mighty lord of Christendom. Each virtue makes you quake with fear. While he, Not to disturb fair freedom's blest appearance, Permits the frightful ravages of evil To waste his fair domains. The great Creator We see not--he conceals himself within His own eternal laws. The sceptic sees Their operation, but beholds not Him. "Wherefore a God!" he cries, "the world itself Suffices for itself!" And Christian prayer Ne'er praised him more than doth this blasphemy.
KING. And will you undertake to raise up this Exalted standard of weak human nature In my dominions?
MARQUIS. You can do it, sire. Who else? Devote to your own people's bliss The kingly power, which has too long enriched The greatness of the throne alone. Restore The prostrate dignity of human nature, And let the subject be, what once he was, The end and object of the monarch's care, Bound by no duty, save a brother's love. And when mankind is to itself restored, Roused to a sense of its own innate worth, When freedom's lofty virtues proudly flourish-- Then, sire, when you have made your own wide realms The happiest in the world, it then may be Your duty to subdue the universe.
KING (after a long pause). I've heard you to the end. Far differently I find, than in the minds of other men, The world exists in yours. And you shall not By foreign laws be judged. I am the first To whom you have your secret self disclosed; I know it--so believe it--for the sake Of this forbearance--that you have till now Concealed these sentiments, although embraced With so much ardor,--for this cautious prudence. I will forget, young man, that I have learned them, And how I learned them. Rise! I will confute Your youthful dreams by my matured experience, Not by my power as king. Such is my will, And therefore act I thus. Poison itself May, in a worthy nature, be transformed To some benignant use. But, sir, beware My Inquisition! 'Twould afflict me much----
MARQUIS. Indeed!
KING (lost in surprise). Ne'er met I such a man as that! No, marquis, no! you wrong me! Not to you Will I become a Nero--not to you!-- All happiness shall not be blasted round me, And you at least, beneath my very eyes, May dare continue to remain a man.
MARQUIS (quickly). And, sire, my fellow-subjects? Not for me, Nor my own cause, I pleaded. Sire! your subjects----
KING. Nay, if you know so well how future times Will judge me, let them learn at least from you, That when I found a man, I could respect him.
MARQUIS. Oh, let not the most just of kings at once Be the most unjust! In your realm of Flanders There are a thousand better men than I. But you--sire! may I dare to say so much-- For the first time, perhaps, see liberty In milder form portrayed.
KING (with gentle severity). No more of this, Young man! You would, I know, think otherwise Had you but learned to understand mankind As I. But truly--I would not this meeting Should prove our last. How can I hope to win you?
MARQUIS. Pray leave me as I am. What value, sire, Should I be to you were you to corrupt me?
KING. This pride I will not bear. From this day forth I hold you in my service. No remonstrance-- For I will have it so. [After a pause. But how is this? What would I now? Was it not truth I wished? But here is something more. Marquis, so far You've learned to know me as a king; but yet You know me not as man-- [The MARQUIS seems to meditate. I understand you-- Were I the most unfortunate of fathers, Yet as a husband may I not be blest?
MARQUIS. If the possession of a hopeful son, And a most lovely spouse, confer a claim On mortal to assume that title, sire, In both respects, you are supremely blest.
KING (with a serious look). That am I not--and never, till this hour, Have I so deeply felt that I am not so.
[Contemplating the MARQUIS with a look of melancholy.
MARQUIS. The prince possesses a right noble mind. I ne'er have known him otherwise.
KING. I have The treasure he has robbed me of, no crown Can e'er requite. So virtuous a queen!
MARQUIS. Who dare assert it, sire?
KING. The world! and scandal! And I myself! Here lie the damning proofs Of doubtless guilt--and others, too, exist, From which I fear the worst. But still 'tis hard To trust one proof alone. Who brings the charge? And oh! if this were possible--that she, The queen, so foully could pollute her honor, Then how much easier were it to believe An Eboli may be a slanderer! Does not that priest detest my son and her? And can I doubt that Alva broods revenge? My wife has higher worth than all together.
MARQUIS. And there exists besides in woman's soul A treasure, sire, beyond all outward show, Above the reach of slander--female virtue!
KING. Marquis! those thoughts are mine. It costs too much To sink so low as they accuse the queen. The sacred ties of honor are not broken With so much ease, as some would fain persuade me. Marquis, you know mankind. Just such a man As you I long have wished for--you are kind-- Cheerful--and deeply versed in human nature-- Therefore I've chosen you----
MARQUIS (surprised and alarmed). Me, sire!
KING. You stand Before your king and ask no special favor-- For yourself nothing!--that is new to me-- You will be just--ne'er weakly swayed by passion. Watch my son close--search the queen's inmost heart. You shall have power to speak with her in private. Retire. [He rings a bell.
MARQUIS. And if with but one hope fulfilled I now depart, then is this day indeed The happiest of my life.
KING (holds out his hand to him to kiss). I hold it not Amongst my days a lost one. [The MARQUIS rises and goes. COUNT LERMA enters. Count, in future, The marquis is to enter, unannounced.
Act IV, Scene I
The Queen's Apartment. QUEEN, DUCHESS OLIVAREZ, PRINCESS EBOLI, COUNTESS FUENTES.
QUEEN (to the first lady as she rises). And so the key has not been found! My casket Must be forced open then--and that at once.
[She observes PRINCESS EBOLI, who approaches and kisses her hand.
Welcome, dear princess! I rejoice to see you So near recovered. But you still look pale.
FUENTES (with malice). The fault of that vile fever which affects The nerves so painfully. Is't not, princess?
QUEEN. I wished to visit you, dear Eboli, But dared not.
OLIVAREZ. Oh! the Princess Eboli Was not in want of company.
QUEEN. Why, that I readily believe, but what's the matter? You tremble----
PRINCESS. Nothing--nothing, gracious queen. Permit me to retire.
QUEEN. You hide it from us-- And are far worse than you would have us think. Standing must weary you. Assist her, countess, And let her rest awhile upon that seat.
PRINCESS (going). I shall be better in the open air.
QUEEN. Attend her, countess. What a sudden illness!
[A PAGE enters and speaks to the DUCHESS, who then addresses the QUEEN.
OLIVAREZ. The Marquis Posa waits, your majesty, With orders from the king.
QUEEN. Admit him then.
[PAGE admits the MARQUIS and exit.
Act IV, Scene II
MARQUIS POSA. The former.
The MARQUIS falls on one knee before the QUEEN, who signs to him to rise.
QUEEN. What are my lord's commands? And may I dare Thus publicly to hear----
MARQUIS. My business is In private with your royal majesty.
[The ladies retire on a signal from the QUEEN.
Act IV, Scene III
The QUEEN, MARQUIS POSA.
QUEEN (full of astonishment). How! Marquis, dare I trust my eyes? Are you Commissioned to me from the king?
MARQUIS. Does this Seem such a wonder to your majesty? To me 'tis otherwise.
QUEEN. The world must sure Have wandered from its course! That you and he-- I must confess----
MARQUIS. It does sound somewhat strange-- But be it so. The present times abound In prodigies.
QUEEN. But none can equal this.
MARQUIS. Suppose I had at last allowed myself To be converted, and had weary grown Of playing the eccentric at the court Of Philip. The eccentric! What is that? He who would be of service to mankind Must first endeavor to resemble them. What end is gained by the vain-glorious garb Of the sectarian? Then suppose--for who From vanity is so completely free As for his creed to seek no proselytes? Suppose, I say, I had it in my mind To place my own opinions on the throne!
QUEEN. No, marquis! no! Not even in jest could I Suspect you of so wild a scheme as this; No visionary you! to undertake What you can ne'er accomplish.
MARQUIS. But that seems To be the very point at issue.
QUEEN. What I chiefly blame you, marquis, for, and what Could well estrange me from you--is----
MARQUIS. Perhaps Duplicity!
QUEEN. At least--a want of candor. Perhaps the king himself has no desire You should impart what now you mean to tell me.
MARQUIS. No.
QUEEN. And can evil means be justified By honest ends? And--pardon me the doubt-- Can your high bearing stoop to such an office? I scarce can think it.
MARQUIS. Nor, indeed, could I, Were my sole purpose to deceive the king. 'Tis not my wish--I mean to serve him now More honestly than he himself commands.
QUEEN. 'Tis spoken like yourself. Enough of this-- What would the king?
MARQUIS. The king? I can, it seems, Retaliate quickly on my rigid judge And what I have deferred so long to tell, Your majesty, perhaps, would willingly Longer defer to hear. But still it must Be heard. The king requests your majesty Will grant no audience to the ambassador Of France to-day. Such were my high commands-- They're executed.
QUEEN. Marquis, is that all You have to tell me from him?
MARQUIS. Nearly all That justifies me thus to seek your presence.
QUEEN. Well, marquis, I'm contented not to hear What should, perhaps, remain a secret from me.
MARQUIS. True, queen! though were you other than yourself, I should inform you straight of certain things-- Warn you of certain men--but this to you Were a vain office. Danger may arise And disappear around you, unperceived. You will not know it--of too little weight To chase the slumber from your angel brow. But 'twas not this, in sooth, that brought me hither, Prince Carlos----
QUEEN. What of him? How have you left him?
MARQUIS. E'en as the only wise man of his time, In whom it is a crime to worship truth-- And ready, for his love to risk his life, As the wise sage for his. I bring few words-- But here he is himself.
[Giving the QUEEN a letter.
QUEEN (after she has read it). He says he must Speak with me----
MARQUIS. So do I.
QUEEN. And will he thus Be happy--when he sees with his own eyes, That I am wretched?
MARQUIS. No; but more resolved, More active.
QUEEN. How?
MARQUIS. Duke Alva is appointed To Flanders.
QUEEN. Yes, appointed--so I hear.
MARQUIS. The king cannot retract:--we know the king. This much is clear, the prince must not remain Here in Madrid, nor Flanders be abandoned.
QUEEN. And can you hinder it?
MARQUIS. Perhaps I can, But then the means are dangerous as the evil-- Rash as despair--and yet I know no other.
QUEEN. Name them.
MARQUIS. To you, and you alone, my queen, Will I reveal them; for from you alone, Carlos will hear them named without a shudder. The name they bear is somewhat harsh.
QUEEN. Rebellion!
MARQUIS. He must prove faithless to the king, and fly With secrecy to Brussels, where the Flemings Wait him with open arms. The Netherlands Will rise at his command. Our glorious cause From the king's son will gather matchless strength, The Spanish throne shall tremble at his arms, And what his sire denied him in Madrid, That will he willingly concede in Brussels.
QUEEN. You've spoken with the king to-day--and yet Maintain all this.
MARQUIS. Yes, I maintain it all, Because I spoke with him.
QUEEN (after a pause). The daring plan Alarms and pleases me. You may be right-- The thought is bold, and that perhaps enchants me. Let it but ripen. Does Prince Carlos know it?
MARQUIS. It was my wish that he should hear it first From your own lips.
QUEEN. The plan is doubtless good, But then the prince's youth----
MARQUIS. No disadvantage! He there will find the bravest generals Of the Emperor Charles--an Egmont and an Orange-- In battle daring, and in council wise.
QUEEN (with vivacity). True--the design is grand and beautiful! The prince must act; I feel it sensibly. The part he's doomed to play here in Madrid Has bowed me to the dust on his account. I promise him the aid of France and Savoy; I think with you, lord marquis--he must act-- But this design needs money----
MARQUIS. It is ready.
QUEEN. I, too, know means.
MARQUIS. May I then give him hopes Of seeing you?
QUEEN. I will consider it.
MARQUIS. The prince, my queen, is urgent for an answer. I promised to procure it. [Presenting his writing tablet to the QUEEN. Two short lines Will be enough.
QUEEN (after she has written). When do we meet again?
MARQUIS. Whene'er you wish.
QUEEN. Whene'er I wish it, marquis! How can I understand this privilege?
MARQUIS. As innocently, queen, as e'er you may. But we enjoy it--that is sure enough.
QUEEN (interrupting). How will my heart rejoice should this become A refuge for the liberties of Europe, And this through him! Count on my silent aid!
MARQUIS (with animation). Right well I knew your heart would understand me.
[The DUCHESS OLIVAREZ enters.
QUEEN (coldly to the MARQUIS). My lord! the king's commands I shall respect As law. Assure him of the queen's submission.
[She makes a sign to him. Exit MARQUIS.