University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Carlos, Isabella.
Car.
Pardon, oh pardon, my unwonted boldness,
If at an uncouth and unusual hour
I asked by thy Elvira a brief audience.
I was impelled to this by urgent motives.

Isa.
What is thy wish? Why dost thou not resolve
To leave me to myself? Why seek to lessen
That peace I scarcely have! ... why came I here?

Car.
Be pacified. I leave thee instantly;
Leave thee, and to my wonted tears return.
Listen to me. Erewhile thou dared'st entreat
My father in my favour. A great fault
Didst thou commit. I come to tell thee of it.
And grant, kind Heaven, that I alone may feel
Its punishment! He deign'd to make a shew
Of austere pity, and pronounced my pardon,
Pledge of redoubled persecution.
The spectacle of pity in another
Maddens the pitiless bosom of a tyrant.
Of this thy unsuspecting nature dreamt not.
I come here to remind thee of this truth:
And to assure thee that, of storms of hatred,
In Philip's nature, pity is the prelude.
A terror that my heart ne'er knew before
From that sad instant seized it. I am confounded—
In language new he spake to me. Of love,
Of unaccustom'd love, made vain display.
Ah, never more to him pronounce my name.

Isa.
To me he first spoke of thee; and almost
Constrain'd me to reply. His boiling rage
Seemed by my accents wholly pacified.
And now when he had just addressed himself
To thee, in accents of paternal love,
He wept, and praised thee in my presence. Think,
He is thy father: nor can I believe
That thee, his only son, he does not love.
Resentment blinds thee. Thou supposest in him
Hatred that cannot in his heart take root.
Ah, hapless destiny, I am the cause
That thou art from him estranged.

Car.
Oh, noble lady,
Ill dost thou know us both. I hate him not,
Although I shudder at his presence. True,
I envy him a prize of which he's robb'd me,
And which he merits not. Its matchless worth,
No, no, he cannot feel. Yet, wert thou blest,
My grief were less intense.

Isa.
Spite of thyself
Thou turn'st to thy accustom'd lamentations.
Carlos, farewell. Henceforward be assured
That I will weigh with care my every word
Ere I pronounce thy name in Philip's presence.
I also fear ... the son more than the father.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Carlos.
Car.
Oh, noble heart! ill fitted for suspicion,
I fear thy destiny ... But who approaches?

SCENE THE THIRD.

Gomez, Carlos.
Car.
What will'st thou, Gomez?

Gom.
I expect the king,
Who, at this hour, enjoin'd me here to meet him.
Mean time, oh prince, admit me to a share
Of the just transport which must overwhelm thee
On the recover'd favour of thy father.
As far as I have credit in his presence,
I do assure thee I have always spoken
In thy behalf. Command me to thy service,
And I am ready further to assist thee.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Gomez.
Gom.
Intolerably proud, but more incautious.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Philip, Leonardo, Perez, Gomez, Counsellors, and Guards.
Phi.
Guards! see that no one dare to enter here.—
I summon you, my faithful few adherents,
To an unusual meeting. Listen to me.
But, ere I speak, what horror overwhelms me!
What icy coldness shoots through all my veins!
In my eye stands the tear. My tremulous voice,
As if it feared to be the instrument
Of my heart's heaviness, in broken accents
Faulters—Should I give utterance then? I ought—
Not I, my country wills it. Who would think it?
Among you here convened I seat myself
The accuser, not the judge: that cannot be.—
And were not I of such a criminal
The accuser, who would hazard the attempt?—
Ah, me! e'en now I see you take the alarm;
All shudder.—What will then your feelings be
When I'm constrained to speak the name ... of Carlos?

Leon.
Thy only son?

Per.
Of what can he be guilty?

Phi.
By an ungrateful son my peace is ruin'd!
That peace, which each of you, more blest than I,
Feels in the bosom of his family!—
In vain have I adopted towards my son
Rigour, with mildness temper'd; vainly tried
By warm reproof to encourage him to virtue.
To entreaty, and example, deaf alike,
And still more deaf to menaces, he adds
One trespass to another; and to these
Impious presumption. So that, at their height,
This day has filled the measure of his crimes.
Yes, though I gave to him this day new proofs
Of indiscreet affection, he selects
This very day to give his father's heart
Proofs of a veteran impiety.—
Scarce had the glowing orb, which rules the day,
The shining witness of my daily actions,
Retired to cheer my transatlantic realm,
Than with the shades of night, to traitors friendly,
A project horrible and black arose
Within the heart of Carlos. Silently,
To avenge himself for his forgiven crimes,
He steels with murderous foot towards my chamber.
His right-hand with a parricidal sword
He dared to arm: Approached me unawares;
The weapon lifts; and almost buries it
In my debilitated frame ... when, lo!
All unexpectedly, a voice exclaims,—
“Philip, be on thy guard!” It was Rodrigo
That came to me. At the same time I feel
The stroke, as of a lightly grazing sword
Defeated of its aim. My eager eyes
Glance through the obscure distance. At my feet
A naked sword I see; and in swift flight
Remote, amid the night's uncertain shadows,
Behold my son. I now have told you all.
If there be those among my friends convened,
Who can accuse him of another fault;
If there be those who can of this fault clear him,
Speak without hesitation: and may Heaven
Inspire his utterance! This is no light question.
My counsellors, deliberately weigh it.
A solemn judgment you are now convened
To pass upon my son, and on myself.

Gom.
What dost thou ask, oh king? Can we betray
Philip, betray ourselves? But can we plunge
The murderous weapon in a father's heart?—
Put not our truth to so severe a test.—

Leon.
The day may come, oh king, when thou thyself
May'st bitterly repent to have heard the truth;
When thou may'st make us also, who thus dare
To speak it in thy ears, repent our rashness.

Per.
The truth can never injure. From our lips
It is required; be it not then suppressed.

Phi.
The king, and not the father, listens to you.

Gom.
I will then speak the first; the first will brave
The anger of a father; for thou art
A father still; and in that countenance
Artfully stern, less menacing than troubled,
'Tis plain that if the monarch condemns Carlos,
The son the father pardons: his misdeeds
Thou wilt not, perhaps can'st not, enumerate.
It seems a light delinquency to Carlos
To make a compact with thy rebel subjects:
Here is a paper found upon his person,
In which at once he covenants our ruin,
And his own infamy. He dares to treat
With France, yes, with detested France to treat.
Here you will read an infamous surrender
Of Catalonia and Navarre, proposed,
And other fertile provinces, attached
By our forefathers' valour, and retained
By sweat and blood of our contemporaries,
To the throne of Spain. A portion so important
Of such a mighty realm, prey to the French,
Is offered as the execrable price
Of execrable aid, against the father,
Lent to the son; and what remains of Spain
Will be oppressed with foul impunity
By that deceitful offspring of a father,
Whose sense, whose strength, are competent to wield
The sceptre of the universal world.
Behold what destiny awaits us.—Ah!
Thy life is indispensable, oh king,
To us, thy sacred life! But equally
The far-famed glory of the Spanish empire
To us is indispensable and sacred.
'Tis guilt in all its worst atrocity
To seek to assassinate a king and father;
But in one moment to betray one's honour,
One's country to betray (I am compelled
Thus by a dire necessity to speak,)
Perhaps is no less a crime. The forfeiture
By which thou art injured, thy paternal heart
Might perhaps extenuate: but the other crime? ...
That also thou might'st be inclined to pardon:—
But when they both in foul array are join'd,
With such a list of trait'rous trespasses,
What other doom can I pronounce than death?

Per.
Death! Is it death thou sayest?

Phi.
Merciful heavens!—

Leon.
Who would believe that I am compelled to add
To the execrable names of parricide,
Traitor and rebel, one more foul than these?
Yet there remains another epithet
Of such atrocity, that mortal tongue
Dare scarcely give it utterance.

Phi.
It is? ...

Leon.
Blasphemer of the majesty of Heaven.—
Oh God omnipotent, deign to inspire
The utterance of thy vile, yet faithful servant!
The day is come, the moment is arrived,
When thou, with one retributory flash
Of thy tremendous and avenging looks,
Shalt cast to earth him, who, in pride of heart,
Hath long presumed thy terrors to defy.
Thou raisest me up as an instrument
Of thy offended majesty; and givest
My swelling breast a super-human boldness;
A boldness worthy of the cause.—Oh hear,
Thou monarch of the earth, by my lips hear,
What, in his terrors, the offended king
Of Heaven inspires. The prince, whom I account
So impious, that I dare not of my king
Call him the son; the prince unceasingly,
With lips impure, pronounces blasphemies,
No less injurious to high heaven itself
Than to its hallowed ministers. The cry,
The cry prophane reaches the house of God:
He mocks the worship of his ancestors,
And patronizes the new heresy:
And we should see, were he upon the throne,
The sacred altars levelled with the ground,
And each mysterious symbol of our worship
Trodden to dust with sacrilegious feet.—
Yes, we should see it. But if till that time
The flaming sword of God delay'd its office,
A sight like this should never blast my eyes.
They who preferred not death to such a sight
Alone should witness it. I would not see
The sacred veil profanely torn away;
That salutary veil that hides the truth
From minds, which, though they comprehend it not,
Believe it, and its functionaries dread:
Nor witness the iniquitous destruction,
Which, in his fury, he has sworn to accomplish,
Of that august tribunal, which, on earth,
Presents an image of supernal justice,
And makes that justice less inflexible:
Of that tribunal, which preserves entire,
To the confusion of less favour'd climes,
The faith transmitted to our ancestors.
May Heaven confound the impious wish! May hell
In vain conspire to aid it! Lift thine eyes,
Thou earthly monarch, to the King of Heaven.
To him thou owest thy life, thy power, thy honour.
He can take all away. If he is offended,
Thy son's the culprit. Look on him, and see
The fatal sentence legibly inscribed.
Without delay fulfil it: on his head,
That Heaven, which he has outraged, hurls its vengeance.

Per.
From servile bosoms 'tis not hard to gain,
In a bad cause, opinions frankly spoken.
Nor is it seldom that the sentiments
Most freely uttered are themselves constrained;
And baseness in its multifarious changes
Can clothe itself in feigned audacity.—
Listen to me, oh king, and thou shalt hear
Free thoughts expressed with freedom. Listen to me,
And thou shalt see another sort of boldness.
The scroll is forged. The accusers disagree,
And contradict each other. If the prince
With parricidal hand approached his father,
What from the foolish compact could he hope
With the Batavian rebels? To what purpose
The succour of the French? Why share with them
His heritage? Divide, without a motive,
Realms over which he held a rightful sway?
But if by means so impious and strange
He wished to alleviate his own destiny,
Why so incautiously attempt the deed?
Or why contrive such guilt, and in the midst
Desist? Baffled by whom? If such a crime,
By such a means he attempted, I account him
Rather a madman than a murderer.
He knows that always in defence of kings
(E'en though they hate them) emulously watch
Those who derive from them power, wealth, and rank.
Thou sawest thy son in flight. I shrewdly guess
Thou sawest him with the eyes of other men.
Let him come here, and speak in his own cause.
In the mean time, that he has not assailed
Thy life I swear, yea, by my head, I swear it;
Or, if that oath suffice not, by my honour:—
That honour o'er which kings have no controul.
What shall I say of the impiety,
In which, with tones of holy indignation,
A lying piety hath dared to impeach him?
What boots it that I say that those there are,
Beneath a veil of well-assumed devotion,
Who hide the basest motives; they confound
Their interests with the interests of Heaven,
And artfully, with a feigned zeal, contrive
To be the ministers of blood and outrage?
Who knows it not? And further I affirm,
The prince hath always proved that he possessed
A heart humane, a lofty sense of honour,
A soul as beauteous as the form it dwelt in:
His father's fondest hopes he realized,
E'en from his earliest years: Thou said'st 'twas so,
And all believe thy words. I think so still.
'Tis not in nature that a mind should pass,
Distinguished for its virtue, to the height,
At once, of guilt. That he has always suffered
His wrongs, so many, and so oft repeated,
With silence, weeping, and profound submission,
I can bear witness. 'Tis a truth, though strange,
That tears are construed sometimes into guilt;
And there are hearts of such a wrathful mould,
That grief, instead of pity, wakes their anger.
Ah, thou art a father ... harden not thy heart ...
Weep with thy weeping son; he is not guilty;
But of the wretched, wretchedest of men.
Yet if he were ten thousand times more guilty
Than any here, who would blaspheme his nature,
Yell out in hate, a father never can,
Nor ought he, to condemn his son to death.

Phi.
Pity, at last, I find in one of you,
And pity shall obey. Father I am;
And to the feelings of a father yield.
Myself, my kingdom, all that I possess,
I do abandon to the arbitrement
Inscrutable of Heaven. Carlos, perchance,
Is th'instrument towards me of Heaven's displeasure.
Perish my kingdom, perish Philip rather,
But let my son be safe. I pardon him.

Gom.
Thou mak'st thyself, then, greater than the laws.
Why summon us? Thou mayest without our aid
Evade the laws. Absolve, absolve, thou mayest:
But if one day pity be fatal to thee ...

Per.
Pity like this, indeed, will fatal prove:
'Tis too unusual to portend a blessing.
But I protest, whate'er the event may be,
That this debate, to which I've rashly ventured,
Is not a council. Life I value not;
My fame I still hold dear. The world shall know
That I've not bathed my hands in innocent blood.
Let those who will remain. To Heaven alone
My silent prayers I raise: the truth to Heaven
Is manifest ... Why do I say to Heaven?
If I look round me, am I not convinced
That all whom I survey know the whole truth?
That all conceal it? That to hear it, speak it,
Hath here long been a capital offence?

Phi.
To whom speak'st thou?

Per.
Of Carlos to his father!

Phi.
And to his king.

Leon.
Thou art the sire of Carlos,
And who in thee the conflict does not trace
Of a despairing father? Recollect
That thou art father also of thy subjects,
And that as much as he despises it,
They prize the sacred name. The prince is one;
They, an innumerable multitude.
That one protect, the rest are all in danger.
He is criminal. The rest all innocent.
Dost doubt whether to save that one, or all?

Phi.
Do not thus, by reiterated thrusts,
Plunge in my heart the dagger. Pause awhile:
I have not strength to listen to you more.
Let a new council forthwith be assembled
Out of my sight. There let the priests assist,
In whom all worldly impulses are dead.
By their means truth may be promulgated,
And truth alone obeyed. Meet, and pass sentence.
What's just my presence might too much constrain,
Or bring to too severe a test my virtue.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Philip.
Phi.
Oh, what may be the number of the traitors?
Can Perez be so bold? Has he perhaps read
My secret heart? ... ah, no! ... but yet what boldness!
What vehement pride! And can a soul so form'd
Spring where I reign? or where I reign exist?