 | Marie de Méraine |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
A public place in the neighbourhood of the Palace.Groups of Citizens and others, including women and children.
1st Cit.
This way he passes.
3d Cit.
Who? the king?
2d Cit.
To-day,
The king; to-morrow, what the Pope thinks fit.
4th Cit.
[Who has recently entered.]
'Tis true: he meets the legate's threat with scorn,
Mocks holy counsel!
2d Cit.
And upon us all
Draws the dread curse of Rome.
3d Cit.
Ay, sirs, ourselves!
There lies the point.
1st Cit.
We're cursed because the king,
For love of Lady Marie, his new queen,
Resists the Church's will, and takes not back
His lawful wife.
Many voices.
Most true; we are, we are!
Enter Fontaine, Tournet, and La Roche.
Tour.
What mutter these base knaves?
La Roche.
Their highnesses
Seem anger'd with the king.
Fon.
[Turning to the crowd.]
Impossible!
The king who freed the serfs, abased the nobles!
Ye're not such ingrates!
2d Cit.
'Tis my thought he freed
The serf from other tyrants, that himself
Might bear the rod alone.
3d Cit.
[To Fontaine.]
Say, knightly sir,
How shall we 'scape the interdict? What means it?
Fon.
More woes than tongue can speak or reason bear.
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The penitent, no absolution find;
The living, no religious office bless;
The dead, no consecrated earth receive;
The purgatorial fire, no prayers nor alms
Avert or shorten! But your loyalty
These ills affright not?
3d Cit.
Shall we bear the doom
This impious king provokes?
1st Cit.
We'll not endure it.
We'll cross his path, and tell him so!
The Crowd.
Ay, tell him!
2d Cit.
[To 1st Citizen.]
Thou shalt be spokesman, brother! See, he comes!
1st Cit.
Pardie! 'Tis later than I thought. That dial—
La Roche.
Let him not hence. Thou'lt gain promotion, friend!
3d Cit.
They're here.
Enter Philip and Guérin, preceded and followed by Retainers.
Budge not, stand thus [Folding his arms]
; none doff his cap.
Come forth; give thy lung play.
[To 1st Citizen, whom he drags to the front. Cries of “Long live Queen Ingerburge!”
An Officer.
Back, sirs! The king.
Back, citizens, I say!
Phil.
Why halt we? How!
Hew us a pathway through these brambles, straight.
[Officers drive back the crowd.
1st Cit.
Back, back!
[The King, Guérin, and retainers pass out.
I kept my cap on though he frowned.
2d Cit.
We are too few; let each man seek his friend,
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Before the palace.
[Citizens rush out.
Fon.
Long ere then the knell
Ye dread to hear shall boom along your streets.
I marked the legate's face this morn. 'Twas calm
After he left the king. Beware such calm!
[Fontaine, Tournet, and La Roche go out on the opposite side.
SCENE II.
An apartment in the Palace. An oratory, with crucifix at back.Marie, engaged on embroidery, Anne, Sir Lucien. Sir Lucien sings, playing an accompaniment on his lute, the last notes of which are heard as the scene opens.
Marie.
Thanks, thanks, good Lucien; break off to-day,
To-morrow thou shalt end the poet's tale.
In truth, a moving lay! What think'st thou, Anne?
[Smiling.
Anne.
I may not contradict your grace.
Marie.
Dissembler,
Thou may'st, and oft thou dost. Come, come, your judgment!
Anne.
These love-tales tire me. I like not minstrels.
Marie.
Thou art most thankless, then; is she not, Lucien?
Sir L.
Truly, I think so, madam; for the minstrel
Makes woman's beauty known, and sings the deeds
Her love inspires.
Anne.
A woman knows her beauty well enough
Without a minstrel, and would have deeds,
Not songs, to celebrate it.
Sir L.
[Aside.]
Does she taunt me?
[Bows, and turns away.
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[Apart to Anne.]
Your jests offend him.
Anne.
[Apart to Marie.]
Would that they could strike
One spark of spirit from him!
Marie.
He is brave
No less than gentle, trust me; do not gamble
With love, for thou dost love, nor slight the chance
Of joy like mine!
Anne.
Art thou so happy?
Marie.
Am I Philip's wife?
Anne.
Yet thou hast cares.
Marie.
True; for my sake the king
Braves vengeful Denmark and imperious Rome,
And oft I fear his love conceals from me
Impending danger; yet this selfish heart
Too oft forgets his danger in his love!
[Tumult is heard without, and cries from crowd of “Long live Queen Ingerburge!” “Away with Marie!”
What mean those angry shouts?
Sir L.
[Going to window and looking forth.]
A clamorous mob,
Frantic and desperate, has forced its way
Even through the palace gates!
Marie.
Methought I caught
My name! [Renewed cries from crowd of “Away with Marie!” “Dismissal!” “Banishment!”]
It is so.
Sir L.
Heed not, royal lady,
The fickle crowd.
Marie.
Sir, I must heed the crowd;
For I am Queen of France, and they her children!
Sir L.
[From window.]
The king's guard drives them back, and now the king
Himself approaches.
[Tumult and cries renewed without, but more distant.
Marie.
And they greet him thus!
Come!—Till I clasp him once more in these arms,
I shall not know him safe. Follow me! Follow!
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Enter, on side opposite to that by which Marie left, Philip and Guérin.
Guér.
Still ran the cry—Long live Queen Ingerburge!
Phil.
[Throwing himself into a chair.]
Queen!—dar'st thou with that title yoke her name!
Speak! was she not divorced?
Guér.
The bishops own
They did exceed their province to declare
Your marriage void without assent of Rome.
Phil.
Let them own what they will—exhaust the breath
In their confessions, they may after need
To absolve less reverend sinners! They shall not
Include me in their penitence. They've erred,
They say. Sir, grant it. Shall they, then,
Retrieve their errors at my cost? Go to!
What they have done—is done; and if remorse
Will goad them—let it goad!
Guér.
Alas! my lord,
The Pope's authority o'errules their voice.
Your banished wife commands he you restore.
Obey, you're saved; refuse, the interdict.
Phil.
[To himself, walking apart.]
Forsake thee, Marie! No, whate'er betide,
To thee I cleave! My love—if prodigal,
Unreasoning, wild—is sworn to thy defence.
As I'm a knight, I'll shield thee, though I cope
Alone with ruin! When this priestly wrath
Has scathed me, when my knightly robes are doff'd
For leper's sackcloth, and the potentate
Dwarfs to the outcast, own that I was true!—
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You wed a prince;—or, say, a princely heart,
Not less thy portion, though thy rival shared
My pomp and title. Is it heart for heart?
Oh, couldst thou love the man, if lost the king,
What blest deliverance.—Saints! I were no man,
But recreant, to shame thee! Misery,
To what perdition dost thou tempt the soul!
She's here, and the fiend flies her;
Enter Marie. Guérin withdraws to back.
Wife!
Marie.
My Philip!
At last thy Marie knows at what dear cost
She bears that name of wife. The people rise,
And bid thee cast her from thee.
Phil.
Do they so?
Modest to ask no more!
Marie.
Methinks I'd bid
Farewell to life this moment for thy sake;
Too happy were my tomb a hidden stone
In thy joy's fabric.
Phil.
Hear me, Marie! Witness
All that confirms an oath—
Marie.
Thou shalt not swear.
Love that needs oaths to bind it—is forsworn
Before it takes them.
Enter Usher.
Usher.
Good my lord, the Council
Even now assemble.
Phil.
Wait without, and bid
My train attend me. [Officer goes out.]
Sweet, our conference
Will be but brief; trust me, it bodes no evil.
Nor priest nor the leagued crowns of Christendom
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Fear not, Marie.
Guér.
[Aside.]
Then all is lost!
Phil.
[Turning to Guérin.]
Now, Guérin!
Guér.
Sire, I'll follow.
[The King goes out.
[Aside.]
Fate's on the moment; there's one desperate hope.
She, and she only, can save king and people!
[Advancing to Marie.]
Your grace!
Marie.
Why wait you, sir?
Guér.
I am not welcome,
It seems; you hold me not your friend.
Marie.
My lord,
The king's friend must be mine.
Guér.
'Tis as the king's friend
I dare to speak.
Marie.
[Sitting.]
Speak on.
Guér.
'Tis right you know
What peril threats the king.
Marie.
I know already.
Guér.
Ay, but you know it vaguely, deem it distant;
You think the cloud far off; 'tis black above you,
And charged with ruin.
Marie.
Hold! had the king wished
I should know more, he had told me more.
Guér.
The king
Cannot to you speak of this peril.
Marie.
Why not?
Guér.
Because you cause it. Deign to hear a man
Whose task is harder than his bent; your lord
For you defies the Pope, neglects his summons,
And braves his edict. Wherefore Rome at last
Rises to punish. Ere 'tis night, her curse,
Her awful curse, may sound, and France and Philip
Be outcasts from heaven's grace and earth's communion.
Marie.
Oh, terrible! Yet thou art cruel, priest,
To taunt me thus. Can I avert this doom?
Guér.
You can avert it. You can rescue France
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His power, his fame, his perilled soul.
Marie.
You mock me.
How can I do this?
Guér.
'Tis for you he madly
Contends with Rome. Your fatal beauty absent,
Your claim resigned, he were no longer tempted.
Marie.
What do you ask?
Guér.
Things hard but possible.
Give place to Ingerburge, your lawful rival;
Fly from the king; resign your name of wife.
Marie.
[Starting up.]
Resign my name of wife! Lord Hospitaller,
Turn to me. Dar'st thou—thou, a holy priest,
Counsel a godless act? That name of wife
I at the altar took; shall I forswear it?
It made my lord's fate mine; shall I desert him
In this dark hour? Of his free choice he gave it;
Shall I fling back his gift? By law he gave it;
And shall I brand the deed that made him mine
As lawless shame? Good night.
Guér.
The name you bear
The Church denies you. Yield it, and the king
Is saved; refuse, you drag him to perdition. Choose!
Marie.
I—I—
Guér.
No other choice. [Kneeling.]
Now, lady, pardon
The king's friend, if your foe.
Marie.
Up, up, thy tongue
Has sheathed its poison here! Thy very look
Is deadly to me.—Stay, 'twas for my lord
Thou wast so cruel. [She extends her hand to him.]
I forgive thee. Go!
[Guérin kisses her hand, and with a profound reverence goes out.
Marie.
Philip on ruin's brink, in peril both
Of life and life to come, and I can save him!
How? Wrench from him myself, the engrafted branch
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Will he not bleed? Yet if my noxious graft
Infect his goodly stem, 'twere better severed
And withered at his foot! O strife! when love
Must stifle love's wild yearnings for love's sake.
Heaven, through this blinding grief I grope my way,
And call on thee for light! Save, save my Philip!
[She totters to the crucifix in oratory and sinks on her knees in supplication. The scene closes.
SCENE III.
A corridor in the Palace, leading to grand staircase and Council Chamber.Enter Guérin, meeting Officers of the Guard.
Guér.
[To 1st Officer.]
Stay, stay, sir; you're of the king's guard?
1st Officer.
Even now,
My lord, we're summoned to conduct his grace
Unto the Council.
Guér.
The Pope's legate, then,
Is here, and waits the king?
1st Officer.
Not yet; indeed,
'Tis rumoured that his eminence denies
His presence to the chamber.
Guér.
So! [Aside.]
'Tis like.
[He bows; Officers bow in return, and go out.
Refuse to meet the Council! Then the storm
Will surely burst full soon. I'll seek the legate.
[Guérin goes out on side opposite to that taken by Officers.
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SCENE IV.
Council Chamber in the Palace.Bishops, Nobles, &c., &c. Torchlight.
B. of Paris.
[Apart to other Bishops.]
If me to this stern office ye depute,
I claim support most absolute.
A. of Rheims.
You have it.
I speak for all.
B. of Paris.
No fear, no compromise, but be your port
As dauntless as the bane ye would avert
Is quick and awful. Firm, united stand!
I doubt the laity, and know the sway
This subtle yet rash king doth exercise
O'er martial spirits.
[A flourish of trumpets.
Enter Philip, with Attendants. He ascends the throne.
Phil.
Greeting kind to all.
'Tis late; but ever should a people's need
Make a king's season. To the issue, friends!
I know that peril threatens.
B. of Paris.
It may strike,
Sire, while we plot to shun it. Let the knell
Of Rome's dread wrath but sound, and France is lost!
Her guardian saints desert her; in her streets
A curse alights on labour; in her plains
Withers her harvest; warps her policy;
In war makes her sword edgeless, and her shield
'Gainst the first lance to break; chokes in her fanes
The very breath of prayer; unto her dying
Denies the rites and solace of the Church,
And burial to her dead! Sweet Providence—
When daily sent by Heaven to bless the world—
Shall make her pilgrimage circuitous
Rather than cross this kingdom! Wrath divine,
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Earth shall write infamy, and God—despair!
Phil.
'Tis well: the woes ye so much lay to heart
Ye will be prompt to remedy.
A. of Rheims.
Alas!
With us no succour rests.
B. of Paris.
'Tis the king's task.
Phil.
The king's and yours. The marriage you annulled
Upon your oaths—the Pontiff would enforce
By spiritual menace. He commands;
Obedience rests with you. Disown his sentence;
Abjure his unjust vengeance; let the Church
Through you her holy offices dispense
Spite of his edict! Then his ban falls harmless.
B. of Paris.
What! Wouldst thou have us, prelates of the Church,
Defy the Church's head? 'Twere vain as impious;
We may not question Rome's prerogative.
Phil.
You may not palter with your sworn allegiance.
Your oaths!—I have your oaths.
B. of Paris.
All bonds are void
That Rome annuls; allegiance' self is void
In this behalf.
A. of Rheims.
Sire! Your late union—
[Hesitating.
B. of Paris.
Your cancelled union with the Lady Marie—
Phil.
Paris! The foe has been held bold who broke
His lance on Philip's buckler; yet he's bolder
Who'd snatch from Philip's arms the love he clasps
Unto his naked breast!
B. of Paris.
Even that love
Must thou renounce! 'Tis Rome that speaks through me.
A. of Rheims.
My liege, the Pope—
Phil.
The Pope, my lords! Four letters!—things, not names!
The Pope! Did earth receive him from the stars;
Or sprang he from the ocean?—Did the sun
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Turn the skies sable at his death? He came
Into this world by nature's common road,
Needs food to succour life, is chilled by cold,
Relaxed by heat, would drown in a rough sea
Soon as a serf would!—Let him ban the fields,—
The grass will grow in spite of him!
B. of Paris.
Impiety!
Bear'st thou that front so boldly?
Phil.
I will speak.
Man's love—the growth of heaven—of nought below
Admits control. Heaven's ministers should know it!
1st Noble.
True; by the Oriflamme!
2d Noble.
Upon my knighthood,
We shame ourselves to see this lady shamed!
3d Noble.
Than whom did none more gracious e'er tread earth.
My lords, you are miscounselled!
[To the Bishops.
B. of Paris.
What, are you
Revolters too? Then—
[Bells are heard to toll, and continue to toll at short and regular intervals throughout the scene.
Hark! The time is past,
The time for duty. King! those sounds declare
Thy land cursed for thy sake. With it and thee
The heavens break off their league. Wherefore on earth
We lay the sacred symbol of our faith
In token of the grace profaned and lost!
[They lower the crucifix.
Submission and repentance—deep, entire—
Are all that now remain.
[A long pause, during which the tolling of the bells is alone heard.
An Officer.
Way there; the queen!
Enter Marie, followed by her ladies.
Marie.
Philip, my lord! What mean those fearful sounds?
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They drove me to thine arms, and I am safe.
[She rushes to the steps of the throne; at a sign from Philip, she takes her place at his side.
But thou?—Speak! Has my love provoked the curse?
The lone tree that would yield thee grateful shade
Attracts the lightnings now!—Is it so?
B. of Paris.
Ay;
For thee he stands accursed.
[A pause; the bells are again heard.
Phil.
Peal on! we hear.
Mark me, ye mitred oath-breakers! But raise
One finger, move one step, or breathe one word
In furtherance of this curse—and ye shall beg
For leave to beg. Of rank, revenue, power,
We dispossess you, cast you forth from France,
Wherein found against command, you die!
Nobles, ring round the throne!
B. of Paris.
Back from that chair!
Marie.
Philip!
Phil.
On your allegiance!
B. of Paris.
To the Church!
Phil.
Mayenne!
I flung thee knighthood's spurs ere well thy neck
Had lost the page's pliant curve. Dumont!
I knew thee when thine arms and steed composed
Thy sum of fortune. De Latour! we fought
Abreast at Palestine.
[Shouts and tumult heard without.
Enter Guérin.
Guér.
My liege, all Paris
Shrieks wildly at your gates!
B. of Paris.
[To the Nobles.]
Hear, gallant sons!
On your souls' love, break up that fatal ring.
[They fall back from the throne.
Phil.
[To Nobles.]
And you desert me? Traitors!
B. of Paris.
Thou art left
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Have crouched to Rome.
Phil.
[Passionately, and descending a step.]
Crouched, vassal? [With scornful laughter as the Bishop falls back.]
Guérin, look,
Yon pale-faced monk talks to the king of crouching!
[To Bishops and Nobles.]
Deem ye my sires, whose tombs were glory's shrines,
Have left their sceptre to a bastard hand,
That I should crouch?—Speak! plains of Asia, speak!
That saw me singly cleave through paynim hordes,
As I had wrung Death's truncheon from his gripe!
Speak for me, rescued bondsmen! speak for me,
Fierce vassals who have knelt to take my yoke,
You, you, and you!—No, perjured priest! had Fate
Lent her polluted lightnings to your hands,
Even as you boast, I'd bid you rain your fires
On an unshrinking front. I'd fall a king!
Way, there! Sweep back this tide of yeasty froth,
That where we pass no spray profane our robes.
Way there, I say—The Queen of France would pass!
Come!
[To Marie.
Marie.
Not a step.
Phil.
How?
Marie.
Not to thy ruin.
B. of Paris.
Away; all to your homes! His doom is sealed.
Who stays to parley with his guilt, partakes it.
Marie.
Yield, Philip, yield! Stay, I command you stay!
[To the Bishops.
The king is saved—is saved! You little knew
The queen you would degrade. Take back thy crown.
[Takes off the crown, and, kneeling, lays it at Philip's feet.
Take back the oath thou gav'st me! thou art free,
And I no more thy wife!
[She descends from the throne.
Phil.
[Following her.]
What hast thou said?
Marie forsakes me! Canst thou?
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Yes, to save thee.
Phil.
To save?—to crush me.
Marie.
Philip, grant one boon.
And I remain. Unto the Pope appeal,
Or those he shall appoint, to judge our cause.
Plead with them thy divorce, thy right to wed me,
Owned by these prelates. Then, whate'er the sentence,
Thou must abide it. Pledge thy word.
Phil.
I pledge it.
My lords, you stand dismissed.
B. of Paris.
My liege—
Phil.
Dismissed!
[Impetuously embracing Marie, as the rest retire.
They soon shall kiss thy feet! [Bells are still heard to toll.]
Ay, clamour on,
Vain tongues of doom! Marie is still—
Marie.
[Clinging to him.]
Thy wife!
| Marie de Méraine | |