University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A splendid Apartment in Mauprat's new House. Casements opening to the Gardens, beyond which the domes of the Luxembourg Palace.
Enter Baradas.
BARADAS.
Mauprat's new home:—too splendid for a soldier!
But o'er his floors—the while I stalk—methinks
My shadow spreads gigantic to the gloom
The old rude towers of the Bastile cast far
Along the smoothness of the jocund day.—
Well, thou hast scaped the fierce caprice of Richelieu;
But art thou farther from the headsman, fool?
Thy secret I have whisper'd to the King;—
Thy marriage makes the King thy foe.—Thou stand'st
On the abyss—and in the pool below
I see a ghastly, headless phantom mirror'd;—
Thy likeness ere the marriage moon hath waned.
Meanwhile—meanwhile—ha—ha, if thou art wedded,
Thou art not wived.

Enter Mauprat (splendidly dressed).
MAUPRAT.
Was ever fate like mine?
So blest, and yet so wretched!

BARADAS.
Joy, de Mauprat!—
Why, what a brow, man, for your wedding-day!

DE MAUPRAT.
Jest not!—Distraction!

BARADAS.
What your wife, a shrew
Already? Courage, man—the common lot!

DE MAUPRAT.
Oh! that she were less lovely, or less loved!

BARADAS.
Riddles again!

DE MAUPRAT.
You know, what chanced between
The Cardinal and myself.

BARADAS.
This morning brought
Your letter:—faith, a strange account! I laugh'd
And wept at once for gladness.

DE MAUPRAT.
We were wed
At noon;—the rite perform'd, came hither;—scarce
Arrived, when—

BARADAS.
Well?—

DE MAUPRAT.
Wide flew the doors, and lo,
Messire de Beringhen, and this epistle!

BARADAS.
'Tis the King's hand!—the royal seal!

DE MAUPRAT.
Read—read—

BARADAS
(reading).

“Whereas Adrien de Mauprat, Colonel and Chevalier in our
armies, being already guilty of High Treason, by the seizure
of our town of Faviaux, has presumed, without our knowledge,
consent, or sanction, to connect himself by marriage with Julie
de Mortemar, a wealthy orphan attached to the person of Her
Majesty, without our knowledge or consent—We do hereby
proclaim and declare the said marriage contrary to law. On
penalty of death, Adrien de Mauprat will not communicate
with the said Julie de Mortemar by word or letter, save in the
presence of our faithful servant the Sieur de Beringhen, and
then with such respect and decorum as are due to a Demoiselle
attached to the Court of France, until such time as it may
suit our royal pleasure to confer with the Holy Church on the
formal annulment of the marriage, and with our Council on
the punishment to be awarded to Messire de Mauprat, who is

cautioned for his own sake to preserve silence as to our injunction,
more especially to Mademoiselle de Mortemar.

“Given under our hand and seal at the Louvre.

“LOUIS.”

BARADAS
(returning the letter).
Amazement!—Did not Richelieu say, the King
Knew not your crime?

DE MAUPRAT.
He said so.

BARADAS.
Poor de Mauprat!—
See you the snare, the vengeance worse than death,
Of which you are the victim?

DE MAUPRAT.
Ha!

BARADAS
(aside).
It works!
(Julie and De Beringhen in the Gardens.)
You have not sought the Cardinal yet to—

DE MAUPRAT.
No!
Scarce yet my sense awaken'd from the shock;
Now I will seek him.

BARADAS.
Hold, beware!—Stir not
Till we confer again.

DE MAUPRAT.
Speak out, man!—

BARADAS.
Hush!
Your wife!—De Beringhen!—Be on your guard—
Obey the royal orders to the letter.
I'll look around your palace. By my troth
A princely mansion!

DE MAUPRAT.
Stay—

BARADAS.
So new a bridegroom
Can want no visiters;—Your servant, Madam!
Oh! happy pair—Oh, charming picture!

[Exit through a side-door.
JULIE.
Adrien,
You left us suddenly—Are you not well?

DE MAUPRAT.
Oh, very well—that is—extremely ill!

JULIE.
Ill, Adrien? (taking his hand).


DE MAUPRAT.
Not when I see thee.

(He is about to lift her hand to his lips when De Beringhen coughs and pulls his mantle. Mauprat drops the hand and walks away.)
JULIE.
Alas!
Should he not love me?

DE BERINGHEN
(aside).
Have a care, I must
Report each word—each gesture to his Majesty.

DE MAUPRAT.
Sir, if you were not in his Majesty's service,
You'd be the most officious, impudent,
Damn'd busy-body ever interfering
In a man's family affairs.

DE BERINGHEN.
But as
I do belong, Sir, to his Majesty—

DE MAUPRAT.
You're lucky!—Still, were we a story higher,
'Twere prudent not to go too near the window.

JULIE.
Adrien, what have I done? Say, am I chnaged
Since yesterday?—or was it but for wealth,
Ambition, life—that—that—you swore you loved me?

DE MAUPRAT.
I shall go mad!—I do, indeed I do—

DE BERINGHEN
(aside).
Not love her! that were highly disrespectful.

JULIE.
You do—what, Adrien?

DE MAUPRAT.
Oh! I do, indeed—
I do think, that this weather is delightful!
A charming day! the sky is so serene!
And what a prospect!— (to De Beringhen)
Oh! you Popinjay!

JULIE.
He jests at me!—he mocks me!—yet I love him,
And every look becomes the lips we love!
Perhaps I am too grave?—You laugh at Julie;
If laughter please you, welcome be the music!
Only say, Adrien, that you love me.

DE MAUPRAT
(kissing her hand).
Ay;
With my whole heart I love you!—
Now, Sir, go,
And tell that to his Majesty!—Who ever
Heard of its being a state-offence to kiss
The hand of one's own wife?

JULIE.
He says he loves me,
And starts away, as if to say “I love you”
Meant something very dreadful.—Come, sit by me,—
I place your chair!—fie on your gallantry!

(They sit down; as he pushes his chair back, she draws hers nearer.)
JULIE.
Why must this strange Messire de Beringhen
Be always here? He never takes a hint.
Do you not wish him gone?

DE MAUPRAT.
Upon my soul
I do, my Julie!—Send him for your bouquèt,
Your glove, your—anything—

JULIE.
Messire De Beringhen,
I dropp'd my glove in the gardens by the fountain,
Or the alcove, or—stay—no, by the statue
Of Cupid; may I ask you to—

DE BERINGHEN.
To send for it?
Certainly (ringing a bell on the table)
. Andrè, Pierre (your rascals, how
Do ye call them?)
Enter Servants.
Ah—Madame has dropp'd her glove
In the gardens, by the fountain,—or the alcove;
Or—stay—no, by the statue—eh?—of Cupid.
Bring it.

DE MAUPRAT.
Did ever now one pair of shoulders
Carry such waggon-loads of impudence
Into a gentleman's drawing-room?
Dear Julie,
I'm busy—letters—visiters—the devil!
I do beseech you leave me—I say—leave me.

JULIE
(weeping).
You are unkind.

Exit. (As she goes out, Mauprat drops on one knee and kisses the hem of her mantle, unseen by her.)
DE BERINGHEN.
Ten million of apologies—

DE MAUPRAT.
I'll not take one of them. I have, as yet,
Withstood all things—my heart—my love—my rights.
But Julie's tears!—When is this farce to end?

DE BERINGHEN.
Oh! when you please. His Majesty requests me,
As soon as you infringe his gracious orders,
To introduce you to the Governor
Of the Bastile. I should have had that honour
Before, but, gad, my foible is good nature;
One can't be hard upon a friend's infirmities.

DE MAUPRAT.
I know the King can send me to the scaffold—
Dark prospect!—but I'm used to it; and if
The Church and Council, by this hour to-morrow,
One way or other settle not the matter,
I will—

DE BERINGHEN.
What, my dear Sir?

DE MAUPRAT.
Show you the door,
My dear, dear Sir; talk as I please, with whom
I please, in my own house, dear Sir, until
His Majesty shall condescend to find
A stouter gentleman than you, dear Sir,
To take me out; and now you understand me,
My dear, most dear—Oh, damnably dear Sir!

DE BERINGHEN.
What, almost in a passion! you will cool
Upon reflection. Well, since Madame's absent,
I'll take a small refreshment. Now, don't stir;
Be careful;—how's your burgundy?—I'll taste it—
Finish it all before I leave you. Nay,
No form;—you see I make myself at home.
[Exit De Beringhen.

DE MAUPRAT
(going to the door through which Baradas had passed).
Baradas! Count!
Enter Baradas.
You spoke of snares—of vengeance
Sharper than death—be plainer.

BARADAS.
What so clear?
Richelieu has but two passions—

DE MAUPRAT.
Richelieu!

BARADAS.
Yes!
Ambition and revenge—in you both blended.
First for ambition—Julie is his ward,
Innocent—docile—pliant to his will—
He placed her at the court—foresaw the rest—
The King loves Julie!

DE MAUPRAT.
Merciful Heaven! The King!

BARADAS.
Such Cupids lend new plumes to Richelieu's wings:
But the court etiquette must give such Cupids
The veil of Hymen—(Hymen but in name).
He look'd abroad—found you his foe:—thus served
Ambition—by the grandeur of his ward,
And vengeance—by dishonour to his foe!

DE MAUPRAT.
Prove this.

BARADAS.
You have the proof—the royal Letter:—
Your strange exemption from the general pardon,
Known but to me and Richelieu; can you doubt
Your friend to acquit your foe? The truth is glaring—
Richelieu alone could tell the princely Lover
The tale which sells your life,—or buys your honour!

DE MAUPRAT.
I see it all!—Mock pardon—hurried nuptials—
False bounty!—all!—the serpent of that smile!
Oh! it stings home!

BARADAS.
You yet shall crush his malice;
Our plans are sure:—Orleans is at our head;
We meet to night; join us, and with us triumph.

DE MAUPRAT.
To night?—Oh Heaven!—my marriage night!—Revenge!

BARADAS.
What class of men, whose white lips do not curse
The grim, insatiate, universal tyrant?
We, noble-born—where are our antique rights—
Our feudal seignories—our castled strength,
That did divide us from the base Plebeians,
And made our swords our law—where are they?—trod
To dust—and o'er the graves of our dead power
Scaffolds are monuments—the Kingly House
Shorn of its beams—the Royal Sun of France
'Clips'd by this blood-red comet. Where we turn,
Nothing but Richelieu!—Armies—Church—State—Laws,
But mirrors that do multiply his beams.
He sees all—acts all—Argus and Briaræus—
Spy at our boards—and deathsman at our hearths,
Under the venom of one laidley nightshade,
Wither the lilies of all France.

DE MAUPRAT
(impatiently).
But Julie—

BARADAS
(unheeding him).
As yet the Fiend that serves hath saved his power
From every snare; and in the epitaphs
Of many victims dwells a warning moral
That preaches caution. Were I not assured
That what before was hope is ripen'd now
Into most certain safety, trust me, Mauprat,
I still could hush my hate and mark thy wrongs,
And say “Be patient!”—Now, the King himself
Smiles kindly when I tell him that his peers
Will rid him of his Priest. You knit your brows,
Noble impatience!—Pass we to our scheme!
'Tis Richelieu's wont, each morn, within his chapel,
(Hypocrite worship ended,) to dispense
Alms to the Mendicant friars,—in that guise
A band (yourself the leader) shall surround
And seize the despot.

DE MAUPRAT.
But the King? but Julie?

BARADAS.
The King, infirm in health, in mind more feeble,
Is but the plaything of a Minister's will.
Where Richelieu dead—his power were mine; and Louis
Soon should forget his passion and your crime.
But whither now?

DE MAUPRAT.
I know not; I scarce hear thee;
A little while for thought: anon I'll join thee;
But now, all air seems tainted, and I loathe
The face of man!

[Exit De Mauprat through the Gardens.
BARADAS.
Start from the chase, my prey,
But as thou speed'st the hell-hounds of Revenge
Pant in thy track and dog thee down.

Enter De Beringhen, his mouth full, a napkin in his hand.
DE BERINGHEN.
Chevalier,
Your cook's a miracle,—what, my Host gone?
Faith, Count, my office is a post of danger—
A fiery fellow, Mauprat!—touch and go,—
Match and saltpetre,—pr—r—r—r—!

BARADAS.
You
Will be released ere long. The King resolves
To call the bride to court this day.

DE BERINGHEN.
Poor Mauprat!
Yet, since you love the lady, why so careless
Of the King's suit?

BARADAS.
Because the lady's virtuous,
And the King timid. Ere he win the suit
He'll lose the crown,—the bride will be a widow,—
And I—the Richelieu of the Regent Orleans.

DE BERINGHEN.
Is Louis still so chafed against the Fox,
For snatching yon fair dainty from the Lion?

BARADAS.
So chafed, that Richelieu totters. Yes, the King
Is half conspirator against the Cardinal.
Enough of this. I've found the man we wanted,—
The man to head the hands that murder Richelieu,—
The man, whose name the synonym for daring.

DE BERINGHEN.
He must mean me!—No, Count, I am—I own
A valiant dog—but still—

BARADAS.
Whom can I mean
But Mauprat?—Mark, to-night we meet at Marion's,
There shall we sign:—thence send this scroll (showing it)
to Bouillon.
You're in that secret (affectionately)
—one of our new Council.

DE BERINGHEN.
But to admit the Spaniard—France's foe—
Into the heart of France,—dethrone the King,—
It looks like treason, and I smell the headsman.

BARADAS.
Oh, Sir, too late to falter: when we meet
We must arrange the separate—coarser scheme,
For Richelieu's death. Of this despatch De Mauprat
Must nothing learn. He only bites at vengeance,
And he would start from treason.—We must post him
Without the door at Marion's—as a sentry.
(Aside)
—So, when his head is on the block—his tongue
Cannot betray our more august designs!

DE BERINGHEN.
I'll meet you, if the King can spare me.— (Aside.)
—No!
I am too old a goose to play with foxes,
I'll roost at home. Meanwhile, in the next room
There's a delicious pâté, let's discuss it.

BARADAS.
Pshaw! a man fill'd with a sublime ambition
Has no time to discuss your pâtés.

DE BERINGHEN.
Pshaw!
And a man fill'd with as sublime a pâté
Has no time to discuss ambition.—Gad,
I have the best of it!

(Enter Julie hastily with first Courtier.)
JULIE
(to Courtier).
A summons, Sir,
To attend the Louvre?—On this day, too?

COURTIER.
Madame,
The royal carriage waits below.—Messire (to De Beringhen)
.
You will return with us.

JULIE.
What can this mean?—
Where is my husband?

BARADAS.
He has left the house
Perhaps till nightfall—so he bade me tell you.
Alas, were I the lord of such fair treasure—

JULIE
(impatiently).
Till nightfall?—Strange—my heart misgives me!

COURTIER.
Madame,
My orders will not brook delay.

JULIE
(to Baradas).
You'll see him—
And you will tell him!

BARADAS.
From the flowers of Hybla
Never more gladly did the bee bear honey,
Than I take sweetness from those rosiest lips,
Though to the hive of others!

COURTIER
(to De Beringhen).
Come, Messire.

DE BERINGHEN
(hesitating).
One moment, just to—

COURTIER.
Come, Sir.

DE BERINGHEN.
I shall not
Discuss the pâté after all. 'Ecod,
I'm puzzled now. I don't know who's the best of it!

Exeunt Julie, De Beringhen, and Courtier.
BARADAS.
Now will this fire his fever into madness!
All is made clear: Mauprat must murder Richelieu—
Die for that crime:—I shall console his Julie—
This will reach Bouillon!—from the wrecks of France
I shall carve out—who knows—perchance a throne!
All in despite of my Lord Cardinal.—

Enter De Mauprat from the Gardens.
DE MAUPRAT.
Speak! can it be?—Methought, that from the terrace
I saw the carriage of the King—and Julie!
No!—no!—my frenzy peoples the void air
With its own phantoms!

BARADAS.
Nay, too true.—Alas!
Was ever lightning swifter, or more blasting,
Than Richelieu's forkèd guile?

DE MAUPRAT.
I'll to the Louvre—

BARADAS.
And lose all hope!—The Louvre!—the sure gate
To the Bastile!

DE MAUPRAT.
The King—

BARADAS.
Is but the wax,
Which Richelieu stamps! Break the malignant seal,
And I will rase the print! Come, man, take heart!
Her virtue well could brave a sterner trial
Than a few hours of cold imperious courtship.
Were Richelieu dust—no danger!

DE MAUPRAT.
Ghastly Vengeance!
To thee and thine august and solemn sister
The unrelenting Death! I dedicate
The blood of Armand Richelieu! When Dishonour
Reaches our hearths Law dies, and Murther takes
The angel shape of Justice!

BARADAS.
Bravely said!
At midnight,—Marion's!—Nay, I cannot leave thee
To thoughts that—

DE MAUPRAT.
Speak not to me!—I am yours!—
But speak not! There's a voice within my soul,
Whose cry could drown the thunder.—Oh! if men
Will play dark sorcery with the heart of man,
Let they, who raise the spell, beware the Fiend!

[Exeunt.