University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—An eminence near the great Gate of Toledo, overlooking the city and the valley of the Tagus. Mondeiar discovered pacing the ground impatiently.
MONDEIAR.
No voice! no step! This spot Padilla named
When to each chief he gave his midnight charge
For daybreak meeting; and the jagged urn
Of dawn, which yon divided peaks embrace,
Is full of saffron, which bespeaks the sun
Just raised on level ocean; yet the air
Is silent, and Toledo lies entranced
As weary of brave sports. I know we triumph,
Though my dull office lay without the walls,
For the long shouts of joy that pierced the skies
Were mingled with no discords.
The low hills
Have caught the sunbeams; still I gaze alone.
Since those age-freighted hours in which I shared
Columbus' watch upon the dismal sea,
While the low murmurs of despair were hush'd
To dull submission by the solemn light
Of the great Captain's eye, as from the helm
It beam'd composure, till the world we sought
Dawn'd in its flushes ere the headland broke
The gloom to common vision,—I have felt
No vacant time so heavy as these moments
Which should be throng'd with actions.

Enter Tendilla.
TENDILLA.
Am I right?
Is this our place of gathering?

MONDEIAR.
Right—your news—
Why does the glorious madness of the night
Lie hush'd in this deep silence?

TENDILLA.
Freedom pants
Amazed at victory. My duty lay
Sometimes beside our chief, whose sabre's flash
Along the streets gave signal to men's souls
Ready to leap from serfdom; every house
Started from darkness into festal lights
As touch'd by magic finger; bells rang forth
In sudden peals; and three triumphant words,
Padilla—Liberty—Castile—o'er all
The glorious clamours floated.

MONDEIAR.
The Alcazar?

TENDILLA.
Giron, who comes, will tell us; 'twas his charge
To summon it on one side, while Padilla
Assail'd it on the other.

Enter Don Pedro de Giron.
MONDEIAR.
Welcome! Tell us
How sped your enterprise.

GIRON.
'Twas none; my boast
Is that I bore the rabble's breath and live.
The throng I should have led, swept me enthrall'd
In rude embrace; till, struggling to their front,
I stood before the drawbridge, which upraised
Left the trench yawning;—then my rabble paused,
While soldiers, roused from slumber, mann'd the walls
And with join'd sabres, fashioning sheets of steel,
Defied my dusky forest waving grim
With axe and bludgeon; as I gave the word
For action, from within the fortress rose
A frantic yell of triumph, which proclaim'd
Our work achieved; the soldiers dropp'd their swords,
And stretch'd their arms impatient to embrace
Their rugged foes: the drawbridge fell; the craftsmen
In headlong rapture swept across to join
Padilla's band; while from the central tower
The long-furl'd banner of Castile flew out
Among the stars; one voice exclaim'd, “Thank God!”
And at the words, the motley hosts kneel'd down
Like docile children at their mother's call,
And cross'd their arms in silence. But here comes
The idol who enchants them, heralded
Even to our meeting by their clamours.

[Shouts.
Enter Padilla.
PADILLA.
Welcome!
Beneath the unclouded dome of heaven give thanks
For last night's stainless conquest; if my sword
Had not chastised a stripling who mistook
The time for one of license, 'twere undimm'd
By drop of crimson. Who should now complete
Our roll of leaders?

GIRON.
I have friends to name,
Guzman, Villena—

PADILLA.
Villena! must we own
That reckless gamester?

GIRON.
If his personal life
Is chequer'd with light follies, 'tis derived
From fountains ancient and august as fill
Castilian veins.

PADILLA.
So bears a shame more flagrant
Than his whose frailties, urged by needs, defile
A lowlier spring of being. In Castile,
The glory that ancestral ages wreathe
Around a noble's brow is less his own
Than portion of the lustre that arrays
His country; and the baseness that obscures it
Combines foul treason to the sacred dead
With robbery of the living.

GIRON.
Dare you charge
My friend with baseness!

PADILLA.
Yes; what meaner vice
Crawls there than that which no affections urge,
And no delights refine; which from the soul
Steals mounting impulses which might inspire
Its noblest ventures, for the arid quest
Of wealth 'mid ruin; changes enterprise
To squalid greediness, makes heaven-born hope
A shivering fever, and, in vile collapse,
Leaves the exhausted heart without one fibre
Impell'd by generous passion? And your friend,
Weary of cards and dice, would make our wrongs
The counters of his game! We'll none of him!

MONDEIAR.
Brother, be wise; in such a state as ours,
We must not judge thus nicely—Giron's friend
Must find allowance.

PADILLA.
Is it so? Alas!
Who else?

TENDILLA.
I name Ovando—Gomez—

PADILLA.
Brawlers, who without touch of true regard
For men of bitter needs, inflame their thoughts
By falsehood; and, for succour, give them hate,
The soul's worst poison.

GIRON.
So I think of them;
But we must work with various instruments,
Or perish.

PADILLA.
O great Heaven! I thought our cause
Strong in its justice.

MONDEIAR.
So it is, my brother;
And while a nation's passion sweeps its depths
May bear these surface eddies; as the sheet
Of yon broad river, by light breezes touch'd,
Breaks into devious ripples as of streams
Slanting for various destinies, yet keeps
Its single course—so while a cause like ours,
Moved by a people's righteous fury, pours
Right onward, these obliquities are lost
In the great current, if we let them skim it,
Nor break its force to check them. Villena comes;
Pray welcome him.

Enter the Marquis de Villena.
VILLENA
(offering his hand to Padilla).
Let me embrace our chief.

PADILLA
(shudders, but gives his hand).
Your hand. Who follows next?

GIRON.
My nephew seeks
Service and honour with us.

Enter Carillo with his arm bandaged.
PADILLA.
Ha! he has won
A scratch already; would it were achieved
In honour! Do I see the officer
Who felt my sword last night?

CARILLO.
You see him bow
Repentant to your censure.

PADILLA.
Your offence
In council must be judged; till that is past,
Resign your sword and hold yourself a prisoner.

GIRON.
My kinsman welcomed thus!

PADILLA.
If he had sprung
From the noblest blood of earth, he should be judged
And sentenced as the meanest. He has stain'd
A righteous enterprise which, else, had worn
No spot. Amid the tumult of the night
One cry of agony alone was heard,
And 'twas a woman's, who, from rude embrace,
Shriek'd for protection; happily I was near,
Or the most holy outcry of the earth
Had been unanswer'd.

CARILLO.
Let me hear my sentence
At once, from one whose words by justice shaped
Bow me with shame.

PADILLA.
Serve in the ranks six months.

GIRON
(to Carillo).
Do not endure it.

CARILLO.
Uncle, let me serve,
And by my prompt obedience win again
The rank I had forgotten.
[To Padilla.
Sir, assign me
A common soldier's trust.

PADILLA.
Relieve the guard
At yonder city gate.

[Exit Carillo.
PADILLA
(to Giron).
You think me stern,
But you will one day thank me.

GIRON.
I shall thank you
In fitting season.

MONDEIAR
(interposing).
Part we now to meet
An hour hence at the council-house, and shape
Our onward course.

GIRON.
Agreed.

[Exeunt all but Padilla and Mondeiar.
MONDEIAR.
You have made a foe
Potent and deadly.

PADILLA.
I am glad to know it;
His friendship had been worse than deadly—shameful.

MONDEIAR.
I thought you were more constant in your temper—
You are chafed now.

PADILLA.
I will subdue this fault
By gazing for a moment on the home,
Whence the sweet breath of old familiar joys
Henceforth will rarely soothe me.

MONDEIAR.
'Twill unnerve you
For our stern duties.

PADILLA.
No; 'twill nurture in me
That mighty sense of wrong which only grows
From lovely things insulted. Pray you say
That I am coming.

[Exit Mondeiar.
PADILLA
(alone).
I must gather strength
To quell these swellings of indignant nature
Among those mighty images which make
A desperate venture calm. Loveliest of vales,
Spread now before my gaze in childhood's light,
Speak to me with the echoes which your rocks
Have treasured from vow'd striplings' martial steps,
While they bade frank adieu to sports and hopes
And meditated forms which death would wear
In our great Christian strife, as thoughts of lovers
Dally with shapes of joy! Castilian banners,
That flutter'd in my life's remotest dawn,
And made my childish fancy leap to valour,
Wave with such solemn grandeur as shall sweep
All meaner angers to augment one rage
August against the alien rule which blasts
The land you glorify! Let all delights
Of home, which sense of loyal faith made sweeter,
Lend their selectest symbols to oppose
The power which bids them wither at its grasp,
Or sparing makes them slavish,—and invest
My soul as with a breastplate! I am arm'd.
[Exit Padilla.