University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Inquisition: at a short distance from Granada.
Zaigri,
in prison.
This change, I must confess, was unexpected.
I knew the fluctuating scenes of life:
But when I last saluted mild Aurora,
I could not apprehend, that ere the moon
Rose o'er the earth, a dungeon would receive me.
I thought, the friendship of the noble regent
A shield impassive to the violence
Of this precipitate inquisitor.
The wretch presumes to force a generous mind.
I was, but lately, more than half a Christian;
I now relapse into a Mussulman.
I'd rather seem a profligate, a fool,
Than play the servile hypocrite. By Allah,
If aught could make me hate to do what's right,
'Twould be compulsion, urging rectitude.
—Where am I lodged?—This is a charnel-house,
There's something in it's dreadful style, it's manner,
Strongly significant of pain, and death!
Here silence, with distinct, and strong expression,
Speaks, in funereal eloquence, and tells me,
Pity, ne'er, hither brought her smile, or tear.
New ghosts, incumbent on the murky air,
Hover, and linger here, to execrate
Their murderers, ingenious to refine
On torture. To some distance from Granada,
I'm now removed. The regent is infirm;
Unable his imprisoned friend to rescue
From the keen fangs of rapid persecution!
All this, the brave must own, is terrible.
But, surely, 'tis ambition's glorious aim,
Greatly, to strive to be a perfect hero.
This is the time, to summon to my aid,
Of good, and great, whatever nature gave me;
All that Abdallah taught; all that I owe
To thought, to fortitude, to constant virtue!
Some hand unlocks that gate!—My eyes deceive me,
Or Leonora is advancing hither.
'Tis she! the ingenuity of love
Will glide through adamant!— [Enters Leonora]
My Leonora!

SCENE II.

Let me, once more, enfold thee in these arms!
Thy visit to me, here, pains, yet transports me!
For in the worst calamity, the sight
Of those we love, revives the drooping soul!
We cling to them, with hope, and fondly fancy,
That there's some mighty magick in affection,
Which can elude the grasp of tyrant power!
But how hast thou obtained admittance hither?

Leonora.
By all-persuasive gold;—but in the state,
Or rather, tumult of my present being,
What rude obstruction could have checked my progress?
For I'm resolved to live, or die with Zaigri!
Oh! thy impending fate distracts my brain!
Do I transgress our feminine reserve?
Yet I feel no reproach, no sting, from conscience:
Why should I blush to be in love with virtue?

Zaigri.
Were I not, now, desirous to allay
My strong, and pungent feelings, I should yield
Or to despondency, or wilder passion.
Act thou like Leonora; let those truths,
That still have modelled, still adorned thy life,
Resume their influence, and ensure thy welfare
Against the whirls of fortune.

Leonora.
Gracious Heaven!
And canst thou reason; canst thou be composed?
For me, I'm horrour, all; I'm, all, confusion;
Zaigri, I am resolved not to survive thee.
I've brought a faithful servant to this dungeon,
[She shows a dagger.
On whom I can rely:—if thou must suffer,
This shall let out my soul!—'Twill follow thee;
'Twill flee away from pain, and be at rest!

Zaigri.
My resolution cannot stand this proof.
When thy o'erwhelming violence of grief
With horrour strikes my sight, pervades my fancy,
Of manly action all my practice fails;
And all it's theory dissolves in air.
Why wilt thou make a coward of thy Zaigri?
The taunts, and insults, of the human vulgar,
I could with patience bear: I would not suffer,
Even Penury's chill gripe to freeze my soul.
Perhaps, on the fell rack, or at the stake,
I might prove emulous of some great minds;
And like a hero, tolerate my pain.
But to know thee, who should'st repose, for ever,
On conscious innocence, and deeds benign,
A victim to excruciating woe,
Would give the sharpest instruments of death,
Points of invenomed fire; hurl, from her summit,
Proud reason down; with desolating fury,
Convulse the fixed foundations of existence;
And wrenching nature from her last recesses,
Would drive her round in frenzy! Wilt thou treat me
With more barbarity than Torquemada!

Leonora.
Oh! I did wrong, to aggravate the weight
Of thy calamity!—But I'll be calm.—

Zaigri.
Then wilt thou grant one boon that I shall ask?

Leonora.
Whatever Zaigri shall request, I'll grant.

Zaigri.
Give me that dagger, gentle Leonora;
It suits but ill thy tender, female arm.

Leonora.
Take it, from my regard for truth, and thee;
But be assured, I give it with reluctance:
For shouldst thou, cruelly, be wrested from me,
It would have proved my best, my only friend.

Zaigri.
My Leonora, from the changeful scenes
That ever pass before us, let us learn
Mild resignation to the will of Heaven.
Why should the darkness of the present hour
Affect the colour of our future days?
That Providence which of vouchsafes to man
Illustrious proofs of it's paternal love,
Can yet, with ease, disperse this thickening gloom;
Restore me to the golden light of freedom;
Bid us live long, and through long life, be happy.

Leonora.
Oh! thou appeaser of my fears, my sorrows,
The tempest of my soul; thy soft persuasion
Soothes me to peace, as Zephyr breathes on ocean,
Tossed by the fury of the northern storm.
I'll moderate my woe; watch o'er myself;
And expiate, to offended Heaven, and thee!
But even this painful interview we're envied;
Unwelcome messengers, I fear, approach us.

[Enter Torquemada, and two Servants of the Inquisition, armed.

SCENE III.

Torquemada.
What, dare you, then, profane this holy ground
With warm emotions of unhallowed love?
It would befit thee more, thou infidel,
To teach thy stubborn heart to meet salvation,
Than thus to be amused with amorous tales!
And can the daughter of Medina's duke,
Spurn filial duty, reverence to the church;
Steal meanly from her home; pollute her soul,
With this Mahometan, this wretched Moor;
And thus desert the sacred path of peace!

Leonora.
There is no peace, where Torquemada sways
His iron sceptre; but sighs, tears, and groans;
Distraction, and despair; outrageous passions,
That tear the finer ligaments of nature!

Zaigri.
Let not this caitiff discompose my fair-one;
Break not, for him, thy temper, nor thy promise.
I have not power to punish all thy guilt,
[To Torquemada.
As it deserves.—Thou art as weak, as worthless;
Therefore, unworthy of expostulation.
Whatever destiny I, yet, may feel;
Whether I'm on the rack, or on a bed
Of roses; I shall ever be the same,
To thee, thou fiend; and equally despise
The teacher, and the tyrant!

Torquemada.
Impious boaster!
Thou shalt repent the licence of thy tongue,
Great Emperour!—Thou insolent barbarian!
My guards, take off this poor, deluded woman;
And reconduct her safely to her father.

Zaigri.
Now, Leonora, keep thy sacred promise!
Give me one moment:—I insist to have it.
[To Torquemada.
Keep off, ye meanest slaves; ye slaves to priestcraft!
[To the Guards advancing towards Leonora.
Know, that betwixt this lady, and myself,
There is a vow recorded in the skies;
And from their court I learn, and from my spirit,
That, conscious, warms within me, and asserts
It's rightful empire o'er inferiour souls;
That with presumptuous, and rude interference,
You dare not check one movement of my will;
Dare not repress, with ignominious hands,
The sacred ardour of this last farewell.
[He embraces Leonora.
First of thy sex! may happiness be thine!
Through fleeting time, and in eternity,
May all-sufficient Providence protect thee!
Remember me, and universal virtue!

Leonora,
while they press her off the Stage.
Oh! while distress permits my memory
To hold it's images, both I'll adore!
Oh! hard, intolerable separation!
I feel that my existence is divided!
I feel it torne to pieces! but my heart,
The test of constant love, I leave with Zaigri!

[Exit.
Zaigri,
after two or three turns.
The paroxysm of my soul is past.

SCENE IV.

Enter Ximenes, and Alonzo.
Ximenes.
Fear not, Alonzo; I shall bear the journey.
You'll bid the servants wait, and, then, return.

Zaigri,
What! is my tutelary genius here!

[Alonzo goes, and returns. Torquemada is greatly agitated, and falls back.
Ximenes.
My worthy, brave, and greatly injured Zaigri!
How strange, and how degrading, is our fate!
I little thought, that you, and good Alonzo,
Should, with myself, e'er meet in Pandæmonium;
And even before our death!
[To Torquemada.
Come forth, thou vultur!
Thou hast, at length, smelt out the flower of manhood;
Torne from my arms my bosom friend!—my friend!
The generous, equal friend of human kind!
The glory of our species!—Thou hast rouzed
A dauntless lion, shamefully asleep,
Too long; but now he growls for ample vengeance;
Lashes his sides, and quickly will devour thee!

Torquemada.
Is this the man, who solemnly engaged,
And to his dying queen, that he'd protect me;
Maintain the dignity, and execution
Of my severe, but salutary office?

Ximenes.
Truth is, thou know'st, the idol of my heart!
And thou must likewise know, with loyal worship,
How I adore the memory of my queen!
I gave to Isabella, on her death-bed,
A promise, in thy favour, too restrictive;
To which I've payed a doating veneration.
I now retract that promise; I annull it;
And with the bright, celestial sword of justice,
I cut the superstitious gordian knot.
Truth is but sacred, for it's glorious ends;
And so is every virtue. Sparing thee,
I give myself the lye; I tell the world,
In conduct, that thy horrid deeds are right;
I contradict the Authour of all nature!
Let me expunge my crime of dire omission.—
—How shall I punish thee!—I'll give thee back
Thyself;—the sentence which thou hast pronounced
On hapless men;—I'll make a bonfire of thee;
It will give light, and triumph, to all Spain!

Zaigri.
If ever, Ximenes, I found thy favour,
Wilt thou permit me, humbly to remind thee,
That souls, like thine, armed with decisive power,
To high authority, howe'er abused,
When fallen, and sunk, have still inclined to mercy?

Alonzo.
And wilt thou, too, forgive thy faithful servant,
If he presumes to add his wish humane,
That Zaigri, now, may have his usual interest
In thy great mind!

Ximenes.
I love you, for your weakness,
My generous friends! It flows from a fine source.
But I'm even deaf to Zaigri, and to you;
For I've, now, fixed my justice on a rock;
And she's impregnable.—No, Torquemada;
Thy heart, sheathed with impenetrable steel,
Mine has not force enough to emulate.
I never shall inflict a painful death.
I'll hang thee—on a statute; 'twas enacted,
In the first year of the Creator's reign
O'er his own world; when, on their golden lyres,
The minstrelsy above tuned dulcet notes,
In honour of this nether globe, replete
With fair, and with diversified existence;
And sung that all was good!—The statute says,
That every tyrant should, in every nation,
Be hunted down.—Prime minister of Satan!
Thou hast burned men, because they were too honest
Even life to purchase with hypocrisy!
Before the gates of this infernal dome,
I'll have a gallows planted, and as high
As Haman's; that the observing world may know,
That, in some cases, though I seem neglectful,
Sooner, or later, I still raise the man,
According to his merits; and that priests,
A subtle, cringing, yet, aspiring race;
Hell in their hearts; the gospel on their tongues,
May dread too high promotion!

Torquemada.
Ximenes,
Thou ever hast inclined to mild decision;
Then, on my knees, let me implore thy mercy!

Ximenes.
Thou hast deserved my most alarming terrours.
Know, that I would not take the guiltiest life,
Without procedure of fair jurisprudence.
Thy office gives thee an unbounded range;
And should'st thou, still, supinely be allowed
To prowl, at pleasure, thou might'st kill some Zaigri.
Then hear my ultimate, decisive sentence;
And by the God of equity, and mercy,
It shall be executed. Torquemada,
You shall be sent, well-guarded, to Madrid;
To drag existence, there, in close confinement,
During the sad remainder of your days;
Far from all friends, all social intercourse;
Your sole companions, in an old state-prison,
It's death-like silence; it's tremendous gloom.
Waste not an hour of your perpetual durance;
But strive, by fervent prayer, severest penance,
To make atonement for a barbarous life.

Torquemada,
on his Knees.
Yet let me supplicate thy lenity!

Ximenes.
I will not hear a word; for I'm humane!
Guards, bear your prisoner off.

Torquemada.
Oh! I've been wrong!
And rigour merits rigour!
[Exit Torquemada.

Ximenes.
—Now, my Zaigri;
If yet awhile I live, I'll give my orders,
That the dark shades, the haviour of this place,
Shall have a smiling metamorphosis.
I've banished, with the talisman of justice,
The Necromancer, that, for years, hath ruled it.
The sable genii, here, from Pluto's empire,
Too long have wreathed their melancholy cypress.
But, rather, by my more indulgent magick,
It shall display the fane of Cytherea.
Not that I mean, with unbecoming licence,
To give a sanction to illicit love;
But that our future Zaigris, Leonoras,
Shall here prepare their hymeneal wreaths,
Wreaths of perpetual bloom, perpetual fragrance,
And strew the floor with roses.—Fare thou well,
My friend! my feelings tell me, that to die,
Atchieving good, softens the king of terrours!
I'll, at Granada, try to find some rest;
For flagging nature asks it!—Come, Alonzo!
My aid, in life; in death, my consolation!
—Zaigri, this heart is not yet cold; it breathes
An ardent wish for thee!

Zaigri.
The consciousness
That I possess thy friendship, will inspire me
With new ambition to deserve it more.
Farewell.

[Ximenes retires.
Zaigri,
alone.
I have thy wish in strong remembrance!
But I should like to act from full conviction,
When moved by matters of eternal moment.
And when I view thee, with infirmities
Pressed down to earth, my sympathetick heart
Sinks, too, beneath a load of gratitude;
Nor can presume, on themes howe'er important,
To trouble thee with farther argument.
What mind can cavil at the Christian practice!
But on some themes of holy speculation,
I have my doubts. I'll go to good Alvarez,
The hermit of the dale. I'm sure, he'll solve them;
Or not inveigle me with sophistry.
Betrayed in youth (before we learn suspicion)
By a perfidious world, his shining talents
He long hath buried in a devious wild,
Adorned with nature's rich, fantastick scenes!
I'll not lose time; for I'm impelled by love!
All-conquering power! did not thy interest, now,
Promote superiour duty; I should fear
That o'er it thou wouldst claim despotick sway,
And prove victorious! Thou art Heaven below!
And, hence, 'tis thine, even in religious minds,
To rival, to out-rival, Heaven above!

[Exit.

SCENE V.

Granada.
Duke of Medina Sidonia—Leonora.
Duke.
Who would have thought that ever Leonora,
For filial love, for piety renowned,
Would, when her virtues were matured, have turned
A rebel to her father, and her God!

Leonora.
Surely, my father, Heaven inspired our reason,
To light us to all truth; and, oft, my conduct
I've tried with reason freed from prejudice;
But I could never find that it deserved
These harsh, opprobrious epithets.

Duke.
Thy passion
Gives a wrong biass to thy reason. Canst thou
Oppose thy trivial knowledge to the doctrines
Which our unerring church hath ratified?
Has not a heretick seduced thy love?
An everlasting reprobate of Heaven?

Leonora.
If thou hast formed my mind, with ease, to honour,
Let it provoke thee not, that I'm sincere,
And too reflecting for implicit faith.
In Zaigri, I admire a heart humane,
And valiant; intellectual faculties
Sublime, and consecrated by the love
Of truth. And is the Deity the foe
Of this essential piety, from causes
External, and contingent? Were our country
Only ten leagues from Europe, Mahomet
Would have prescribed our faith; without our choice,
We should have vowed obedience to the Koran,
From reverence to our fathers. Would the Judge
Of heaven, and earth, have marked with his displeasure,
That amiable, that necessary errour?
We should have been condemned, as soon, by him,
For any other mode; for dress; for language.

Duke.
Thou prating infidel! are we to know
The moral system of the Deity?
And rashly to pronounce on his decrees?
Is not thy boldness checked, when he declares
In his own oracles—“I will have mercy
“On whom I will have mercy?”—Leonora,
I have not patience for a vain debate;
Resolve to conquer a profane attachment;
Or to the grave I shall descend with sorrow!

Leonora.
Oh! I will rather droop, and die, grief's victim!
Name any arduous task within my power;
And I'll perform it, to preserve my father!

Duke.
Determine, then, to think no more of Zaigri.

Leonora.
Alas! my lord; I fear that you require
Impossibility! Even reason's thoughts,
With colder, slower march, will oft invade
The breast, in lonely hours! But to arrest
The fleet, and glowing pictures of warm fancy,
Rising in sighs, and darting to their object,
When the soul works, in fertile solitude,
Would be, to check the lightning's fiery wing,
In transit through a still, and lowering sky.
But though the varied motions of my mind
May prove too quick, and subtle for controul,
'Tis virtue's privilege to govern action;
And I'll be watchful, never, in my conduct,
To wound my conscience, or afflict my father.

Duke.
If thou art now sincere; if with thy words
Thou art resolved to correspond in action,
Reject all future intercourse with Zaigri.
If thou observest this injunction, peace,
Serenity, and happiness, are mine.
But should it be contemned, thy disobedience
With melancholy will oppress my age.

Leonora.
Than thy distress, the worst of ills;—pain, death,
Would be less evils to me!—I'll obey thee!

Duke.
Now am I blest! I ever did repose
On thy affection, on thy truth. I'll leave thee,
In calm retirement, and thy own reflexions,
To taste the sweets of filial piety;
How purer, more sublime, are our enjoyments,
Resulting from a firm discharge of duty,
Than all the fancied bliss of youthful passion!

[Exit.
Leonora,
alone.
I could not make a greater sacrifice
Than what I've offered to a father's claim!
Oh! Zaigri, in thy generous mind, the motive
Will plead thy pardon of my dread resolve!
I know, 'twill wound thy heart; but be assured,
That all it's pangs will be returned by mine.
With what acuteness ('tis presumed) we argue
Against a force, or weakness, not residing
In our own breast!—My father's prejudices
Flow not from sordid sources.—Pride Castilian;
A zeal intemperate for our holy faith!
These are the foes to Zaigri, and to me!
But is not, oft, the groveling lust of gold,
That putrid fever of the soul, in age,
The tyrant of a fine, a noble flame?
Doth it not fancy, in it's wild delirium,
That avarice is a virtue, love, a crime?—
—But what are cool, and sage remarks, to me?
—Were not our souls, in sight of Heaven, united!—
And am not I now torne, divorced from Zaigri?
—Oh! what a pathless desart is the world!
[Exit Leonora.

SCENE VI.

Granada.
Ximenes,
alone, reposing on a Sofa.
What comfort have I felt from this repose!
It recreates the poor remains of life.
But who invades my solitude?—Alonzo!

[Enters Alonzo.
Alonzo.
My lord, I interrupt, with great reluctance,
Your quiet; but there is a cause;—Giraldo,
Honoured with your esteem, has been imprudent;
He warmly urged me to request an audience.

Ximenes.
I've heard a strange report; and much it grieves me,
Admit him instantly.
[Alonzo retires.
My life is destined,
To it's expiring hour, to change, and tumult.
When shall I reach the tranquil hemisphere,
Eternally serene!—What object meets me!
Giraldo, and in chains!
[Giraldo enters, manacled, and guarded; and Alonzo.
Why do you bring
My friend, an honest, generous, valiant man,
Thus chained, and guarded, like a desperate felon?

1st Guard.
My lord, we can produce our witnesses,
To prove, that he has murdered Baracaldo:
But from his love of truth, from his frank nature,
We are persuaded, that he'll own the fact.
It was determined, that his crime should flow
Along the common stream of legal justice.
But, with much ardour, he requested leave
To make his first appeal to you: our state
Owes great indulgence to the brave Giraldo:
He, for his judge, deserves a Ximenes.

Ximenes.
Giraldo, thy defence I wish to hear;
And yet I dread to hear it; my esteem
For thee, hath corresponded with thy virtues.
'Tis I, who suffer all the culprit's fears!

Giraldo.
This breast, my lord, fear hath not yet invaded:
Honour hath, for itself, no cause to fear.
My sword I've crimsoned with a villain's blood:
I've put an end to Baracaldo's crimes;
His life I've taken, which he owed to thee.
I have performed a noble act of justice.

Ximenes.
But by thy arm, I'm stabbed, through Baracaldo!
Alas! how oft do great, exalted souls,
Who, we would almost wish, might live for ever,
Their ruin court, by deeds precipitate!
If Baracaldo, guiltless of a charge
Imputed to him, fell, I grieve for him:
But, oh! my aged heart bleeds for Giraldo!

Giraldo.
Why? that the traitor poisoned Ximenes,
I can convince the world; and if the world,
In retribution fair, my last atchievement
Crowns with the patriot's deathless wreath of glory,
To an ignoble fate wilt thou consign me?

Ximenes.
Heaven's clemency forbid that I condemn thee!
By our established laws thou must be tried,
And judges.—Had thy unimpassioned reason
Controuled thy generous heart's excess!—This scene
I wish to close;—'tis agonizing to me!
Giraldo, I am old; for many years,
I've been in power, too apt to taint the heart;
Now, when I tottering stand on the grave's brink,
I cannot find that I have stained my life
With one oppressive, one injurious act;
Though by such acts, oft, with impunity,
My friends I might have spared, or have promoted;
Enriched myself, or gratified revenge,
Even by great souls too warmly entertained.
Next to my God, I've always worshipped justice;
It is his type; his representative;
In it's full sense, it means, whatever good
Can be performed by reasoning, conscious beings.
Justice is dearer to me than Giraldo!

Giraldo.
My heart as yet retains it's satisfaction
For having prompted this intrepid hand!
Nor do I meanly wish thou may'st relinquish,
On my account, thy well-earned palm of justice;
Bright ornament of venerable age!

Ximenes.
Ill-fated warmth! are we to supersede,
By our rash thoughts, divine, and human laws!
Are we to seize the flaming bolts of Heaven!
Perhaps God means to punish guilt enormous,
By suffering it to live; or, has he not
A high tribunal in the other world,
Of universal, and compleat redress?

Giraldo.
There I rely.—You've told me that “you wished
“To close this scene;—'tis agonizing to you.”
Then hear a word or two, and I depart.
Firmly, you know, I've oft encountered death,
Bristled with horrour, in the martial field.
And firmly on the scaffold I can face him,
If I should suffer in a manly cause.
I humbly will expect that high tribunal,
Which will atone for earth's iniquity!
Farewell, good cardinal!—perhaps, for ever!
[Exit Giraldo.

Ximenes.
—Alonzo, go; and till I recollect
Full presence of my mind, stop all proceedings
Against Giraldo.

Alonzo.
I obey, with pleasure.
[Exit Alonzo.

Ximenes,
alone.
This cruel conflict rends my languid heart!
Under the banner of Toledo's cross,
My gallant soldier fought before Oran.
The quick, pure effervescence of his youth
Announced the virtues of his riper years.
Just as the troops were forming, in my tent,
My orders he received; and asked my blessing;
For on the strength of that viaticum,
I'm sure, said he, to conquer, or to die,
Anticipating Heaven! His warmth shot through me!
I gave the benediction, with a tear,
Dropt from anxiety, from hope, from joy.
He left me; joined his squadron; and like lightning,
He charged, and broke the thickest of the foe!
He was all, fire, all, friendship; and all, honour;
Therefore, my celibacy's chosen son!
And he has forfeited a glorious life,
From his enthusiastick zeal for me!
What shall I do, to save this generous man!—
—I'll interpose:—but, then, I shall wound justice!
And if I keep aloof, I lose Giraldo!
This is the heaviest shock that, yet, I've suffered:
It, now, precipitates the fatal stroke
On agitated, and expiring age!
Oh! thou, whom my soul loveth!—Oh! Giraldo!
My son, my son!—Would, I might die for thee!
[Exit Ximenes.