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 timeHave 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 standingbefore them—then rings a bell.
AllAsleep within the antechamber, too?
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 thereAs soon as it grows dark. Dost hear? And yetLet 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 remindMy liege of an inestimable life,And of your subjects, who with pale dismayWould 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 womanWhispered the crime to me? Woman, thy nameIs 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 thanMere hollow echo! When I strike this rockFor 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—yetYou dare to watch a night here with your king!Your hair is gray, and yet you do not blushTo think your wife is honest. Get thee home;You'll find her locked, this moment, in your son'sIncestuous embrace. Believe your king.Now go; you stand amazed; you stare at meWith searching eye, because of my gray hairs.Unhappy man, reflect. Queens never taintTheir virtue thus: doubt it, and you shall die!
LERMA (with warmth).Who dare do so? In all my monarch's realmsWho has the daring hardihood to breatheSuspicion 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 headBurns 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, openingthe door at the same time to DUKE ALVA.
The KING and DUKE ALVA.
ALVA (approaching the KING with an air of doubt).This unexpected order, at so strangeAn 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 trueI have no faithful servant!
ALVA.How?
KING.A blowAimed 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 yetEscape 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 suspectThen nothing? Often have you cautioned meGainst his ambition. Was there nothing moreThan his ambition should have made me tremble?
ALVA.Ambition is a word of largest import,And much it may comprise.
KING.And had you naughtOf special purport to disclose?
ALVA (after a pause, mysteriously).Your majestyHath given the kingdom's welfare to my charge:On this my inmost, secret thoughts are bent,And my best vigilance. Beyond this chargeWhat I may think, suspect, or know belongsTo me alone. These are the sacred treasuresWhich not the vassal only, but the slave,The very slave, may from a king withhold.Not all that to my mind seems plain is yetMature enough to meet the monarch's ear.Would he be answered—then must I imploreHe 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 papersIn 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 inventSome new, unheard-of torture! Is their crimeSo clear, so plain, so public to the world,That without e'en the trouble of inquiryThe 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 confessMy guilt, most gracious monarch. I'm ashamedA coward prudence should have tied my tongueWhen truth, and justice, and my sovereign's honorUrged me to speak. But since all else are silentAnd since the magic spell of beauty bindsAll 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 stillWhat 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 banishedBecause she boldly sacrificed herselfTo save the queen! It has been since discoveredShe 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 manWere traced, till finally they disappearedClose 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 stoodIn 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 leadTo 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 harmonyOf these most damning proofs? 'Tis clear as day—I knew it long ago—their heinous guiltBegan 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, longEach other's ardent feelings understood,Which her new state forbade her to indulge.The fear which still attends love's first avowalWas long subdued. Seduction, bolder grown,Spoke in those forms of easy confidenceWhich 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 gaveTo the state council such authority?That she subdued the passion of her soulTo scrutinize with more attentive eyeThe election of the cabinet. Her heartWas bent on love, and won a diadem.
KING (offended, and with bitterness).You are a nice observer, duke, and IAdmire your eloquence. I thank you truly.[Rising coldly and haughtily.But you are right. The queen has deeply erredIn keeping from me letters of such import,And in concealing the intrusive visitThe prince paid in the garden:—from a falseMistaken honor she has deeply erredAnd I shall question further.[Ringing the bell.Who waits nowWithin the antechamber? You, Duke Alva,I need no longer. Go.
ALVA.And has my zealA second time displeased your majesty?
KING (to a page who enters).Summon Domingo. Duke, I pardon youFor having made me tremble for a moment,With secret apprehension, lest yourselfMight fall a victim to a foul misdeed.
[Exit ALVA.
The KING, DOMINGO.KING walks up and down the room to collect his thoughts.
DOMINGO (after contemplating the KING for some time with a respectfulsilence).How joyfully surprised I am to findYour 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 majestyThat I had learned a secret——
KING (gloomily).And have IExpressed 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 seatOf penitence—intrusted as a crimeThat deeply weighed upon the tender soulOf the fair sinner who confessed her guilt,And sought the pardon of offended heaven.Too late the princess weeps a foul misdeedThat may involve the queen herself in ruin.
KING.Indeed! Kind soul! You have correctly guessedThe occasion of your summons. You must guide meThrough this dark labyrinth wherein blind zealHas tangled me. From you I hope for truth.Be candid with me; what must I believe,And what determine? From your sacred officeI look for strictest truth.
DOMINGO.And if, my liege,The mildness ever incident to thisMy holy calling, did not such restraintImpose upon me, still I would entreatYour majesty, for your own peace of mind,To urge no further this discovery,And cease forever to pursue a secretWhich never can be happily explained.All that is yet discovered may be pardoned.Let the king say the word—and then the queenHas never sinned. The monarch's will bestowsVirtue and fortune, both with equal ease.And the king's undisturbed tranquillityIs, in itself, sufficient to destroyThe 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 nameIs, after all, my liege, the only prizeWhich 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 stampedIn thy ill-boding looks. Then out with it,Whate'er it be. Let me no longer trembleUpon the rack. What do the people say?
DOMINGO.The people, sire, are liable to err,Nay err assuredly. What people thinkShould not alarm the king. Yet that they shouldPresume so far as to indulge such thoughts——
KING.Why must I beg this poisonous draught so long?
DOMINGO.The people often muse upon that monthWhich 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 ALVAenters. 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 occurrenceWould be avenged upon its mere relater.
KING.Said you a bastard? I had scarce, you say,Escaped the pangs of death when first she feltShe should, in nature's time, become a mother.Explain how this occurred! 'Twas then, if IRemember 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 seeFull plainly through you now! If this dark plotHad then been ripe your saint had lost his fame.
ALVA.This plot?
KING.How can you with a harmonySo unexampled in your very thoughtsConcur, and not have first conspired together?Would you persuade me thus? Think you that IPerceived not with what eagerness you pouncedUpon your prey? With what delight you fedUpon my pain,—my agony of grief?Full well I marked the ardent, burning zealWith which the duke forestalled the mark of graceI destined for my son. And how this priestPresumed to fortify his petty spleenWith my wrath's giant arm! I am, forsooth,A bow which each of you may bend at pleasureBut I have yet a will. And if I needsMust 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 withConjectures vague. To hell's profound abyssYou 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 solemnlytowards DOMINGO).The grandees of the realm shall be convened,And I will sit in judgment. Then step forthIn 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 herselfThat doom shall fall on you. Now, dare you showHonor 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 fora long time without moving).That's boldly said! But thou hast risked thy lifeIn stubborn conflicts for far less a prize.Has risked it with a gamester's recklessness—For honor's empty bubble. What is lifeTo thee? I'll not expose the royal bloodTo such a madman's power, whose highest hopeMust be to yield his wretched being upWith some renown. I spurn your offer. Go;And wait my orders in the audience chamber.
[Exeunt.
The KING alone.
Now give me, gracious Providence! a man.Thou'st given me much already. Now vouchsafe meA man! for thou alone canst grant the boon.Thine eye doth penetrate all hidden thingsOh! give me but a friend: for I am notOmniscient like to thee. The ministersWhom 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 thousandsWho 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 noteE'en of the services to which they oweTheir place upon the roll! Oh, what can beOf shorter memory than gratitude!Here, in this other list, I read each faultMost 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 agoThe victory of St. Quentin is forgotten.I place him with the dead.
[He effaces this name and writes it on the other rollafter he has read further.
The Marquis Posa!
The Marquis Posa! I can scarce recallThis 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 fledHis royal debtor's eye? The only man,By heaven, within the compass of my realm,Who does not court my favor. Did he burnWith avarice, or ambition, long agoHe had appeared before my throne. I'll tryThis wondrous man. He who can thus dispenseWith royalty will doubtless speak the truth.
The Audience Chamber.
DON CARLOS in conversation with the PRINCE of PARMA. DUKESALVA, FERIA, and MEDINA SIDONIA, COUNT LERMA, and otherGRANDEES, with papers in their hands, awaiting the KING.
MEDINA SIDONIA (seems to be shunned by all the GRANDEES, turnstowards DUKE ALVA, who, alone and absorbed in himself, walksup and down).Duke, you have had an audience of the king?How did you find him minded?
ALVA.Somewhat illFor you, and for the news you bring.
MEDINA SIDONIA.My heartWas lighter 'mid the roar of English cannonThan 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 perceiveHow 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 lostA fleet more mighty than e'er ploughed the waves.And what is such a head as mine to set'Gainst seventy sunken galleons? And therewithFive hopeful sons! Alas! that breaks my heart.
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 firstand kiss the KING's hand: he turns with friendly miento the latter, taking no notice of his son.
Your mother, nephew, fainWould be informed what favor you have wonHere in Madrid.
PARMA.That question let her askWhen 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 orderThis 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 bendson one knee. The KING hangs the order on his neck.
You are my ablest general! Ne'er aspireTo 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 notWith rocks and storms. You're welcome to Madrid.
[Extending his hand to him to kiss.
I thank you for preserving in yourselfA faithful servant to me. For as suchI value him, my lords; and 'tis my willThat you should honor him.
[He motions him to rise and cover himself, then turnsto 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 laidBefore me in the council. Who waits further?
[No one answers.
How comes it that amidst my train of noblesThe Marquis Posa ne'er appears? I knowThis 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 nowHere in Madrid, and waits a public dayTo cast himself before his sovereign's feet.
ALVA.The Marquis Posa? Right, he is the sameBold Knight of Malta, sire, of whom renownProclaims this gallant deed. Upon a summonsOf the Grand Master, all the valiant knightsAssembled in their island, at that timeBesieged by Soliman. This noble youth,Scarce numbering eighteen summers, straightway fledFrom Alcala, where he pursued his studies,And suddenly arrived at La Valette."This Cross," he said, "was bought for me; and nowTo prove I'm worthy of it." He was oneOf forty knights who held St. Elmo's Castle,At midday, 'gainst Piali, Ulucciali,And Mustapha, and Hassem; the assaultBeing thrice repeated. When the castle fell,And all the valiant knights were killed around him,He plunged into the ocean, and aloneReached La Valette in safety. Two months afterThe foe deserts the island, and the knightReturned to end his interrupted studies.
FERIA.It was the Marquis Posa, too, who crushedThe dread conspiracy in Catalonia;And by his marked activity preservedThat powerful province to the Spanish crown.
KING.I am amazed! What sort of man is thisWho can deserve so highly, yet awakeNo pang of envy in the breasts of threeWho speak his praise? The character he ownsMust be of noble stamp indeed, or elseA very blank. I'm curious to beholdThis wondrous man.[To DUKE ALVA.Conduct him to the councilWhen mass is over.[Exit DUKE. The KING calls FERIA.And do you presideHere 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 kingShowed you no kindness, 'twas your strict desert.
LERMA (to MEDINA SIDONIA, taking leave).Oh, how two little words have made your fortune!
[Exeunt all.
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 wantWith me?
ALVA.To know you.
MARQUIS.Curiosity!No more; I regret the precious minutesThat I must lose: time passes swiftly by.
ALVA.I now commend you to your lucky stars.The king is in your hands. Employ this momentTo your own best advantage; for, remember,If it is lost, you are alone to blame.
The MARQUIS alone.
MARQUIS.Duke, 'tis well spoken! Turn to good accountThe moment which presents itself but once!Truly this courtier reads a useful lessonIf not in his sense good, at least in mine.
[Walks a few steps backwards and forwards.
How came I here? Is it caprice or chanceThat shows me now my image in this mirror?Why, out of millions, should it picture me—The most unlikely—and present my formTo the king's memory? Was this but chance?Perhaps 'twas something more!—what else is chanceBut the rude stone which from the sculptor's handReceives 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 flungInto the despot's soul, how fruitful 'twereIn the kind hand of Providence; and soWhat 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.
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 crownSome service? Why then do you shun my thanks?My memory is thronged with suitor's claims.One only is omniscient. 'Twas your dutyTo seek your monarch's eye! Why did you not?
MARQUIS.Two days have scarce elapsed since my returnFrom foreign travel, sire.
KING.I would not standIndebted 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 proudAnd dauntless mind! That was to be expected.Proud I would have my Spaniards. Better farThe cup should overflow than not be full.They say you've left my service?
MARQUIS.To make wayFor some one worthier, I withdrew.
KING.'Tis pity. When spirits such as yours make holiday,The state must suffer. But perchance you fearedTo 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 whereinI may be useful to him, wherein not.With deepest gratitude, I feel the favorWherewith, 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 clotheMy thoughts, as the world's citizen, in phraseBeseeming to your subject. When I leftThe court forever, sire, I deemed myselfReleased from the necessity to giveMy 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 allowedFor 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 appearWorthy 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 deemMe worthy of your service, you prescribeA course of duty for me; you commandMy arm in battle and my head in council.Then, not my actions, but the applause they meetAt court becomes their object. But for meVirtue possesses an intrinsic worth.I would, myself, create that happinessA 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 hearA new creator? For I ne'er could stoopTo be the chisel where I fain would be—The sculptor's self. I dearly love mankind,My gracious liege, but in a monarchyI dare not love another than myself.
KING.This ardor is most laudable. You wishTo do good deeds to others; how you do themIs but of small account to patriots,Or to the wise. Choose then within these realmsThe office where you best may satisfyThis 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 loveWould to mankind impart? Before such blissMonarchs would tremble. No! Court policyHas raised up new enjoyments for mankind.Which she is always rich enough to grant;And wakened, in the hearts of men, new wishesWhich such enjoyments only can content.In her own mint she coins the truth—such truth!As she herself can tolerate: all formsUnlike her own are broken. But is thatWhich can content the court enough for me?Must my affection for my brother pledgeItself to work my brother injury?To call him happy when he dare not think?Sire, choose not me to spread the happinessWhich you have stamped for us. I must declineTo circulate such coin. I cannot beThe 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 asideFrom all the mysteries of majesty.Who can assure you I shall still regardAs sacred that which ceases to alarm me?I may seem dangerous, because I thinkAbove 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 increaseThe heavy weight of chains it cannot break,Shall never fire my blood! The world is yetUnripe for my ideal; and I liveA citizen of ages yet to come.But does a fancied picture break your rest?A breach of yours destroys it.
KING.Say, am IThe first to whom your views are known?
MARQUIS.You are.
KING (rises, walks a few paces and then stops oppositethe MARQUIS—aside).This tone, at least, is new; but flatteryExhausts itself. And men of talent stillDisdain to imitate. So let us testIts opposite for once. Why should I not?There is a charm in novelty. Should weBe so agreed, I will bethink me nowOf some new state employment, in whose dutiesYour 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—methinksI can explain the cause of this your error.Mankind compel you to it. With free choiceThey 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 withTheir poverty, they ornament their chainsWith slavish prudence; and they call it virtueTo bear them with a show of resignation.Thus did you find the world, and thus it wasBy your great father handed o'er to you.In this debased connection—how could youRespect mankind?
KING.Your words contain some truth.
MARQUIS.Alas! that when from the Creator's handYou took mankind, and moulded him to suitYour own ideas, making yourself the godOf this new creature, you should overlookThat 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 GodOne can but sacrifice, and pray, and tremble—Wretched exchange! Perversion most unblestOf 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 sacrificeTo you is valueless. You thus becomeA 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 youGained nothing by the misery of millions!And if the very freedom you destroyedWere the sole blessing that could make you happy.Dismiss me, sire, I pray you; for my themeBears me too far; my heart is full; too strongThe charm, to stand before the only manTo whom I may reveal it.
[The COUNT LERMA enters, and whispers a few wordsto the KING, who signs him to withdraw, and continuessitting 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 hadYet 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 thisI thought must be divine indeed; and thenI 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 onthe ground, embarrassed and confused.
True, you are forced to act so; but that youCould dare fulfil your task—this fills my soulWith shuddering horror! Oh, 'tis pity thatThe victim, weltering in his blood, must ceaseTo chant the praises of his sacrificer!And that mere men—not beings loftier far—Should write the history of the world. But soonA milder age will follow that of Philip,An age of truer wisdom; hand in hand,The subjects' welfare and the sovereign's greatnessWill walk in union. Then the careful stateWill spare her children, and necessityNo 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 goodBlooms 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 endWhat you have now begun? Say, do you hopeTo check the ripening change of Christendom,The universal spring, that shall renewThe earth's fair form? Would you alone, in Europe,Fling yourself down before the rapid wheelOf destiny, which rolls its ceaseless course,And seize its spokes with human arm. Vain thought!Already thousands have your kingdom fledIn joyful poverty: the honest burgherFor his faith exiled, was your noblest subject!See! with a mother's arms, ElizabethWelcomes the fugitives, and Britain bloomsIn rich luxuriance, from our country's arts.Bereft of the new Christian's industry,Granada lies forsaken, and all EuropeExulting, 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 plantFor all eternity, and yet the seedsYou 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 lifeIn projects of destruction. Man is greaterThan you esteem him. He will burst the chainsOf a long slumber, and reclaim once moreHis 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 happinessFlow from your horn of plenty—let man's mindRipen in your vast empire—give us backAll you have taken from us—and become,Amidst a thousand kings, a king indeed!
[He advances boldly, and fixes on him a look ofearnestness 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 sparkThat lights thine eye into a glorious flame!Renounce the mimicry of godlike powersWhich level us to nothing. Be, in truth,An image of the Deity himself!Never did mortal man possess so muchFor purpose so divine. The kings of EuropePay homage to the name of Spain. Be youThe leader of these kings. One pen-stroke now,One motion of your hand, can new createThe 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 CreatorBestows upon the worm its drop of dew,And gives free-will a triumph in abodesWhere lone corruption reigns. See your creation,How small, how poor! The rustling of a leafAlarms 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 evilTo waste his fair domains. The great CreatorWe see not—he conceals himself withinHis own eternal laws. The sceptic seesTheir operation, but beholds not Him."Wherefore a God!" he cries, "the world itselfSuffices for itself!" And Christian prayerNe'er praised him more than doth this blasphemy.
KING.And will you undertake to raise up thisExalted standard of weak human natureIn my dominions?
MARQUIS.You can do it, sire.Who else? Devote to your own people's blissThe kingly power, which has too long enrichedThe greatness of the throne alone. RestoreThe 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 realmsThe happiest in the world, it then may beYour duty to subdue the universe.
KING (after a long pause).I've heard you to the end. Far differentlyI find, than in the minds of other men,The world exists in yours. And you shall notBy foreign laws be judged. I am the firstTo whom you have your secret self disclosed;I know it—so believe it—for the sakeOf this forbearance—that you have till nowConcealed these sentiments, although embracedWith 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 confuteYour youthful dreams by my matured experience,Not by my power as king. Such is my will,And therefore act I thus. Poison itselfMay, in a worthy nature, be transformedTo some benignant use. But, sir, bewareMy 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 youWill 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 timesWill 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 onceBe the most unjust! In your realm of FlandersThere are a thousand better men than I.But you—sire! may I dare to say so much—For the first time, perhaps, see libertyIn milder form portrayed.
KING (with gentle severity).No more of this,Young man! You would, I know, think otherwiseHad you but learned to understand mankindAs I. But truly—I would not this meetingShould 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 forthI 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 farYou've learned to know me as a king; but yetYou 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 claimOn 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 haveThe treasure he has robbed me of, no crownCan 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 proofsOf doubtless guilt—and others, too, exist,From which I fear the worst. But still 'tis hardTo 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 believeAn 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 soulA treasure, sire, beyond all outward show,Above the reach of slander—female virtue!
KING.Marquis! those thoughts are mine. It costs too muchTo sink so low as they accuse the queen.The sacred ties of honor are not brokenWith so much ease, as some would fain persuade me.Marquis, you know mankind. Just such a manAs 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 standBefore 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 fulfilledI now depart, then is this day indeedThe happiest of my life.
KING (holds out his hand to him to kiss).I hold it notAmongst my days a lost one.[The MARQUIS rises and goes. COUNT LERMA enters.Count, in future,The marquis is to enter, unannounced.
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 casketMust 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 youSo near recovered. But you still look pale.
FUENTES (with malice).The fault of that vile fever which affectsThe nerves so painfully. Is't not, princess?
QUEEN.I wished to visit you, dear Eboli,But dared not.
OLIVAREZ.Oh! the Princess EboliWas not in want of company.
QUEEN.Why, thatI 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 thenaddresses the QUEEN.
OLIVAREZ.The Marquis Posa waits, your majesty,With orders from the king.
QUEEN.Admit him then.
[PAGE admits the MARQUIS and exit.
MARQUIS POSA. The former.
The MARQUIS falls on one knee before the QUEEN, whosigns to him to rise.
QUEEN.What are my lord's commands? And may I dareThus publicly to hear——
MARQUIS.My business isIn private with your royal majesty.
[The ladies retire on a signal from the QUEEN.
The QUEEN, MARQUIS POSA.
QUEEN (full of astonishment).How! Marquis, dare I trust my eyes? Are youCommissioned to me from the king?
MARQUIS.Does thisSeem such a wonder to your majesty?To me 'tis otherwise.
QUEEN.The world must sureHave wandered from its course! That you and he—I must confess——
MARQUIS.It does sound somewhat strange—But be it so. The present times aboundIn prodigies.
QUEEN.But none can equal this.
MARQUIS.Suppose I had at last allowed myselfTo be converted, and had weary grownOf playing the eccentric at the courtOf Philip. The eccentric! What is that?He who would be of service to mankindMust first endeavor to resemble them.What end is gained by the vain-glorious garbOf the sectarian? Then suppose—for whoFrom vanity is so completely freeAs for his creed to seek no proselytes?Suppose, I say, I had it in my mindTo place my own opinions on the throne!
QUEEN.No, marquis! no! Not even in jest could ISuspect you of so wild a scheme as this;No visionary you! to undertakeWhat you can ne'er accomplish.
MARQUIS.But that seemsTo be the very point at issue.
QUEEN.WhatI chiefly blame you, marquis, for, and whatCould well estrange me from you—is——
MARQUIS.PerhapsDuplicity!
QUEEN.At least—a want of candor.Perhaps the king himself has no desireYou should impart what now you mean to tell me.
MARQUIS.No.
QUEEN.And can evil means be justifiedBy 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 nowMore 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 judgeAnd what I have deferred so long to tell,Your majesty, perhaps, would willinglyLonger defer to hear. But still it mustBe heard. The king requests your majestyWill grant no audience to the ambassadorOf France to-day. Such were my high commands—They're executed.
QUEEN.Marquis, is that allYou have to tell me from him?
MARQUIS.Nearly allThat justifies me thus to seek your presence.
QUEEN.Well, marquis, I'm contented not to hearWhat 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 youWere a vain office. Danger may ariseAnd disappear around you, unperceived.You will not know it—of too little weightTo 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 mustSpeak with me——
MARQUIS.So do I.
QUEEN.And will he thusBe 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 appointedTo Flanders.
QUEEN.Yes, appointed—so I hear.
MARQUIS.The king cannot retract:—we know the king.This much is clear, the prince must not remainHere 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 flyWith secrecy to Brussels, where the FlemingsWait him with open arms. The NetherlandsWill rise at his command. Our glorious causeFrom 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 yetMaintain all this.
MARQUIS.Yes, I maintain it all,Because I spoke with him.
QUEEN (after a pause).The daring planAlarms 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 firstFrom your own lips.
QUEEN.The plan is doubtless good,But then the prince's youth——
MARQUIS.No disadvantage!He there will find the bravest generalsOf 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 MadridHas 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 hopesOf 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 linesWill 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 becomeA 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.