University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Fourth Day.

SCENE I.

The Bastile—a corridor—in the back-ground the door of one of the condemned cells.
Enter Joseph and Gaoler.
GAOLER.
Stay, father, I will call the governor.
[Exit Gaoler.

JOSEPH.
He has it, then—this Huguet;—so we learn
From François;—Humph! Now if I can but gain
One moment's access, all is ours! The Cardinal
Trembles 'tween life and death. His life is power:—
Smite one—slay both! No Æsculapian drugs,
By learned quacks baptised with Latin jargon,
E'er bore the healing which that scrap of parchment
Will medicine to Ambition's flagging heart.
France shall be saved—and Joseph be a bishop!

Enter Governor and Joseph.
GOVERNOR.
Father, you wish to see the prisoners Huguet
And the young knight De Mauprat?

JOSEPH.
So my office,
And the Lord Cardinal's order warrant, son!

GOVERNOR.
Father, it cannot be: Count Baradas
Has summon'd to the Louvre Sieur De Mauprat.

JOSEPH.
Well, well! But Huguet—

GOVERNOR.
Dies at noon.

JOSEPH.
At noon!
No moment to delay the pious rites
Which fit the soul for death—quick, quick—admit me!

GOVERNOR.
You cannot enter, monk! Such are my orders!

JOSEPH.
Orders! vain main!—the Cardinal still is minister.
His orders crush all others!

GOVERNOR
(lifting his hat).
Save his king's!
See, monk, the royal sign and seal affix'd
To the count's mandate. None may have access
To either prisoner, Huguet or De Mauprat,
Not even a priest, without the special passport
Of Count de Baradas. I'll hear no more!

JOSEPH.
Just Heaven! and are we baffled thus!—Despair!
Think on the Cardinal's power—beware his anger.

GOVERNOR.
I'll not be menaced, Priest! Besides, the Cardinal
Is dying and disgraced—all Paris knows it.
You hear the prisoner's knell.

[Bell tolls.
JOSEPH.
I do beseech you—
The Cardinal is not dying—But one moment
And—hist!—five thousand pistoles!—

GOVERNOR.
How! a bribe!
And to a soldier, grey with years of honour!
Begone!—

JOSEPH.
Ten thousand—twenty!—

GOVERNOR.
Gaoler—put
This monk without our walls.

JOSEPH.
By those grey hairs,
Yea, by this badge (touching the cross of St. Louis worn by the Governor)
—
the guerdon of your valour—
By all your toils—hard days and sleepless nights—
Borne in your country's service, noble son—
Let me but see the prisoner!—

GOVERNOR.
No!—

JOSEPH.
He hath
Secrets of state—papers in which—

GOVERNOR
(interrupting).
I know—
Such was his message to Count Baradas,
Doubtless the Count will see to it—

JOSEPH.
The Count!
Then not a hope!—You shall—

GOVERNOR.
Betray my trust!
Never—not one word more—you heard me, gaoler!

JOSEPH.
What can be done?—distraction!—Richelieu yet
Must—what?—I know not—thought, nerve, strength, forsake me.
Dare you refuse the Church her holiest rights?

GOVERNOR.
I refuse nothing—I obey my orders—

JOSEPH.
And sell your country to her parricides!
Oh, tremble yet!—Richelieu—

GOVERNOR.
Begone!

JOSEPH.
Undone!
(Exit Joseph.)

GOVERNOR.
A most audacious shaveling—interdicted
Above all others by the Count—

GAOLER.
I hope, Sir,
I shall not lose my perquisites. The Sieur
De Mauprat will not be reprieved?

GOVERNOR.
Oh, fear not:
The Count's commands by him who came for Mauprat
Are to prepare headsmen and axe by noon;
The Count will give you perquisites enough;
Two deaths in one day!

GAOLER.
Sir, may Heaven reward him!
Oh, by the way, that troublesome young fellow,
Who calls himself the prisoner Huguet's son,
Is here again—implores, weeps, raves, to see him.

GOVERNOR.
Poor youth, I pity him!

Enter De Beringhen, followed by François.
DE BERINGHEN
(to François).
Now, prithee, friend,
Let go my cloak; you really discompose me.

FRANCOIS.
No, they will drive me hence: my father! Oh!
Let me but see him once—but once—one moment!

DE BERINGHEN
(to Governor).
Your servant, Messire,—this poor rascal, Huguet,
Has sent to see the Count de Baradas
Upon state secrets, that afflict his conscience.
The Count can't leave his Majesty an instant:
I am his proxy.

GOVERNOR.
The Count's word is law!
Again, young scapegrace! How com'st thou admitted?

DE BERINGHEN.
Oh! a most filial fellow: Huguet's son!
I found him whimpering in the court below.
I pray his leave to say good bye to father,
Before that very long unpleasant journey
Father's about to take. Let him wait here
Till I return.

FRANCOIS.
No; take me with you.

DE BERINGHEN.
Nay;
After me, friend—the Public first!

GOVERNOR.
The Count's
Commands are strict. No one must visit Huguet
Without his passport.

DE BERINGHEN.
Here it is! Pshaw! nonsense!
I'll be your surety. See, my Cerberus,
He is no Hercules!

GOVERNOR.
Well, you're responsible.
Stand there, friend. If, when you come out, my Lord,
The youth slip in, 'tis your fault.

DE BERINGHEN.
So it is!

[Exit through the door of the cell, followed by the Gaoler.
GOVERNOR.
Be calm, my lad. Don't fret so. I had once
A father too! I'll not be hard upon you,
And so stand close. I must not see you enter:
You understand. Between this innocent youth
And that intriguing monk there is, in truth,
A wide distinction.
Re-enter GAOLER.
Come, we'll go our rounds;
I'll give you just one quarter of an hour;
And if my Lord leave first, make my excuse.
Yet stay, the gallery's long and dark; no sentry
Until he reach the grate below. He'd best
Wait till I come. If he should lose the way,
We may not be in call.

FRANCOIS.
I'll tell him, Sir,—
[Exeunt Governor and Gaoler.
He's a wise son that knoweth his own father.
I've forged a precious one! So far, so well!
Alas, what then? this wretch has sent to Baradas—
Will sell the scroll to ransom life. Oh, Heaven!
On what a thread hangs hope!
[Listens at the door.
Loud words—a cry!
[Looks through the key-hole.
They struggle! Ho!—the packet!!!
[Tries to open the door.
Lost! He has it—
The courtier has it—Huguet, spite his chains,
Grapples!—well done! Now—now!
[Draws back.
The gallery's long!
And this is left us!
[Drawing his dagger, and standing behind the door. Re-enter De Beringhen, with the packet.
Victory!
Yield it, robber—
Yield it—or die—

[A short struggle.
DE BERINGHEN.
Off! ho!—there!—

FRANCOIS
(grappling with him).
Death or honour!—

[Exeunt struggling.

SCENE II.

The King's closet at the Louvre. A suite of rooms in perspective at one side.
Baradas—Orleans.
BARADAS.
All smiles! the Cardinal's swoon of yesterday
Heralds his death to-day;—could he survive,
It would not be as minister—so great
The king's resentment at the priest's defiance!
All smiles!—and yet, should this accurs'd De Mauprat
Have given our packet to another—'Sdeath!
I dare not think of it!

ORLEANS.
You've sent to search him?

BARADAS.
Sent, Sir, to search?—that hireling hands may find
Upon him, naked, with its broken seal,
That scroll, whose every word is death! No—no—
These hands alone must clutch that awful secret.
I dare not leave the palace, night or day,
While Richelieu lives—his minions—creatures—spies—
Not one must reach the king!

ORLEANS.
What hast thou done?

BARADAS.
Summon'd De Mauprat hither?

ORLEANS.
Could this Huguet,
Who pray'd thy presence with so fierce a fervour,
Have thieved the scroll?

BARADAS.
Huguet was housed with us,
The very moment we dismiss'd the courier.
It cannot be! a stale trick for reprieve.
But, to make sure, I've sent our trustiest friend
To see and sift him.—Hist! here comes the King—
How fare you, Sire?

Enter Louis.
LOUIS.
In the same mind I have
Decided! yes, he would forbid your presence,
My brother,—your's, my friend,—then Julie, too;
Thwarts—braves—defies— (suddenly turning to Baradas)
We make you minister.
Gaston, for you—the baton of our armies.
You love me, do you not?

ORLEANS.
Oh, love you, Sire?
(aside.)
—Never so much as now.

BARADAS.
May I deserve
Your trust (aside)
—until you sign your abdication!
My liege, but one way left to daunt De Mauprat,
And Julie to divorce.—We must prepare
The death-writ; what, tho' sign'd and seal'd? we can
Withhold the enforcement.

LOUIS.
Ah, you may prepare it;
We need not urge it to effect.

BARADAS.
Exactly!
No haste, my liege (looking at his watch, and aside)
. He may live one hour longer.

(Enter Courtier).
COURTIER.
The Lady Julie, Sire, implores an audience.

LOUIS.
Aha! repentant of her folly!—Well,
Admit her.

BARADAS.
Sire, she comes for Mauprat's pardon,
And the conditions—

LOUIS.
You are minister,
We leave to you our answer.

(As Julie enters,—the Captain of the Archers, by another door,—and whispers Baradas).
CAPTAIN.
The Chevalier
De Mauprat waits below.

BARADAS
(aside).
Now the despatch!

[Exit with Officer.
Enter Julie.
JULIE.
My liege, you sent for me. I come where Grief
Should come when guiltless, while the name of King
Is holy on the earth!—Here, at the feet
Of Power, I kneel for mercy.

LOUIS.
Mercy, Julie,
Is an affair of state. The Cardinal should
In this be your interpreter.

JULIE.
Alas!
I know not if that mighty spirit now
Stoop to the things of earth. Nay, while I speak,
Perchance he hears the orphan by the throne
Where Kings themselves need pardon; O my liege,
Be father to the fatherless; in you
Dwells my last hope!

Enter Baradas.
BARADAS
(aside).
He has not the despatch;
Smiled, while we search'd, and braves me.—Oh!

LOUIS
(gently).
What would'st thou?

JULIE.
A single life.—You reign o'er millions.—What
Is one man's life to you?—and yet to me
'Tis France—'tis earth—'tis everything!—a life—
A human life—my husband's.

LOUIS
(aside).
Speak to her,
I am not marble,—give her hope—or—

BARADAS.
Madam,
Vex not your King, whose heart, too soft for justice,
Leaves to his ministers that solemn charge.

[Louis walks up the stage.]
JULIE.
You were his friend.

BARADAS.
I was before I loved thee.

JULIE.
Loved me!

BARADAS.
Hush, Julie: could'st thou misinterpret
My acts, thoughts, motives, nay, my very words,
Here—in this palace?

JULIE.
Now I know I'm mad;
Even that memory fail'd me.

BARADAS.
I am young,
Well-born and brave as Mauprat:—for thy sake
I peril what he has not—fortune—power;
All to great souls most dazzling. I alone
Can save thee from you tyrant, now my puppet!
Be mine; annul the mockery of this marriage,
And on the day I clasp thee to my breast
De Mauprat shall be free.

JULIE.
Thou durst not speak
Thus in his ear (pointing to Louis).
Thou double traitor!—tremble.
I will unmask thee.

BARADAS.
I will say thou ravest.
And see this scroll! its letters shall be blood!
Go to the King, count with me word for word;
And while you pray the life—I write the sentence!

JULIE.
Stay, stay (rushing to the King).
You have a kind and princely heart,
Tho' sometimes it is silent: you were born
To power—it has not flush'd you into madness,
As it doth meaner men. Banish my husband—
Dissolve our marriage—cast me to that grave
Of human ties, where hearts congeal to ice,
In the dark convent's everlasting winter—
(Surely eno' for justice—hate—revenge)—
But spare this life, thus lonely, scathed, and bloomless;
And when thou stand'st for judgment on thine own,
The deed shall shine beside thee as an angel.

LOUIS
(much affected).
Go, go, to Baradas: annul thy marriage,
And—

JULIE
(anxiously, and watching his countenance).
Be his bride!

LOUIS.
A form, a mere decorum,
Thou know'st I love thee.

JULIE.
O thou sea of shame,
And not one star.

(The King goes up the stage, and passes through the suite of rooms at the side in evident emotion.)
BARADAS.
Well, thy election, Julie;
This hand—his grave!

JULIE.
His grave! and I—

BARADAS.
Can save him.—
Swear to be mine.

JULIE.
That were a bitterer death!
Avaunt, thou tempter! I did ask his life
A boon, and not the barter of dishonour.
The heart can break, and scorn you: wreak your malice;
Adrien and I will leave you this sad earth,
And pass together hand in hand to Heaven!

BARADAS.
You have decided.
[Withdraws to the side scene for a moment, and returns.]
Listen to me, Lady;
I am no base intriguer. I adored thee
From the first glance of those inspiring eyes;
With thee entwined ambition, hope, the future.
I will not lose thee! I can place thee nearest—
Ay, to the throne—nay, on the throne, perchance;
My star is at its zenith. Look upon me;
Hast thou decided?

JULIE.
No, no; you can see
How weak I am: be human, Sir—one moment.

BARADAS
(stamping his foot, De Mauprat appears at the side of the stage, guarded).
Behold thy husband!—Shall he pass to death,
And know thou could'st have saved him?

JULIE.
Adrien, speak!
But say you wish to live!—if not your wife,
Your slave,—do with me as you will?

DE MAUPRAT.
Once more!—
Why this is mercy, Count! Oh, think, my Julie,
Life, at the best, is short,—but love immortal!

BARADAS
(taking Julie's hand).
Ah, loveliest—

JULIE.
Go, that touch has made me iron.
We have decided—death!

BARADAS
(to De Mauprat).
Now, say to whom
Thou gavest the packet, and thou yet shalt live.

DE MAUPRAT.
I'll tell thee nothing!

BARADAS.
Hark,—the rack!

DE MAUPRAT.
Thy penance
For ever, wretch!—What rack is like the conscience?

JULIE.
I shall be with thee soon.

BARADAS
(giving the writ to the Officer).
Hence, to the headsman.

The doors are thrown open. The Huissier announces “His Eminence the Cardinal Duke de Richelieu.”

Enter Richelieu, attended by Gentlemen, Pages, &c., pale, feeble, and leaning on Joseph, followed by three Secretaries of State, attended by Sub-secretaries with papers, &c.

JULIE
(rushing to Richelieu).
You live—you live—and Adrien shall not die!

RICHELIEU.
Not if an old man's prayers, himself near death,
Can aught avail thee, daughter! Count, you now
Hold what I held on earth:—one boon, my Lord,
This soldier's life.

BARADAS.
The stake,—my head!—you said it.
I cannot lose one trick.—Remove your prisoner.

JULIE.
No!—No!—

Enter Louis from the rooms beyond.
RICHELIEU
(to Officer).
Stay, Sir, one moment. My good liege,
Your worn-out servant, willing, Sire, to spare you
Some pain of conscience, would forestall your wishes.
I do resign my office.

DE MAUPRAT.
You!

JULIE.
All's over!

RICHELIEU.
My end draws near. These sad ones, Sire, I love them,
I do not ask his life; but suffer justice
To halt, until I can dismiss his soul,
Charged with an old man's blessing.

LOUIS.
Surely!

BARADAS.
Sire—

LOUIS.
Silence—small favour to a dying servant.

RICHELIEU.
You would consign your armies to the baton
Of your most honour'd brother. Sire, so be it!
Your minister, the Count de Baradas;
A most sagacious choice!—Your Secretaries
Of State attend me, Sire, to render up
The ledgers of a realm.—I do beseech you,
Suffer these noble gentlemen to learn
The nature of the glorious task that waits them,
Here, in my presence.

LOUIS.
You say well, my Lord.
(To Secretaries, as he seats himself.)
Approach, Sirs.

RICHELIEU.
I—I—faint!—air—air—
(Joseph and a gentleman assist him to a sofa, placed beneath a window.)
I thank you—
Draw near, my children.

BARADAS.
He's too weak to question,
Nay, scarce to speak; all's safe.

SCENE III.

Manent Richelieu, Mauprat, and Julie, the last kneeling beside the Cardinal; the Officer of the Guard behind Mauprat. Joseph near Richelieu, watching the King. Louis. Baradas at the back of the King's chair, anxious and disturbed. Orleans at a greater distance, careless and triumphant. The Secretaries. As each Secretary advances in his turn, he takes the portfolios from the Sub-secretaries.
FIRST SECRETARY.
The affairs of Portugal,
Most urgent, Sire;—One short month since the Duke
Braganza was a rebel.

LOUIS.
And is still!

FIRST SECRETARY.
No, Sire, he has succeeded! He is now
Crown'd King of Portugal—craves instant succour
Against the arms of Spain.

LOUIS.
We will not grant it
Against his lawful king. Eh, Count?

BARADAS.
No, Sire.

FIRST SECRETARY.
But Spain's your deadliest foe: whatever
Can weaken Spain must strengthen France. The Cardinal
Would send the succours:— (solemnly)
—balance, Sire, of Europe!

LOUIS.
The Cardinal!—balance!—We'll consider.—Eh, Count?

BARADAS.
Yes, Sire;—fall back.

FIRST SECRETARY.
But—

BARADAS.
Oh! fall back, Sir.

JOSEPH.
Humph!

SECOND SECRETARY.
The affairs of England, Sire, most urgent: Charles
The First has lost a battle that decides
One half his realm,—craves moneys, Sire, and succour.

LOUIS.
He shall have both.—Eh, Baradas?

BARADAS.
Yes, Sire.
(Oh that despatch!—my veins are fire!)

RICHELIEU
(feebly, but with great distinctness.)
My liege—
Forgive me—Charles's cause is lost! A man,
Named Cromwell, risen—a great man!—your succour
Would fail—your loans be squander'd!—Pause—reflect.

LOUIS.
Reflect.—Eh, Baradas?

BARADAS.
Reflect, Sire.

JOSEPH.
Humph!

LOUIS
(aside).
I half repent!—No successor to Richelieu!—
Round me thrones totter!—dynasties dissolve!—
The soil he guards alone escapes the earthquake!

JOSEPH.
Our star not yet eclipsed!—you mark the King?
Oh! had we the despatch!

RICHELIEU.
Ah! Joseph!—Child—
Would I could help thee!

Enter Gentleman, whispers Joseph, who exit hastily.
BARADAS
(to Secretary).
Sir, fall back.

SECOND SECRETARY.
But—

BARADAS.
Pshaw, Sir!

THIRD SECRETARY
(mysteriously).
The secret correspondence, Sire, most urgent,—
Accounts of spies—deserters—heretics—
Assassins—poisoners—schemes against yourself!—

LOUIS.
Myself!—most urgent!— (looking on the documents.)


Re-enter Joseph with François, whose pourpoint is streaked with blood. François passes behind the Cardinal's attendants, and, sheltered by them from the sight of Baradas, &c., falls at Richelieu's feet.
FRANÇOIS.
O! my Lord!

RICHELIEU.
Thou art bleeding!

FRANÇOIS.
A scratch—I have not fail'd!— (gives the packet.)


RICHELIEU.
Hush!— (looking at the contents.)


THIRD SECRETARY
(to King).
Sire, the Spaniards
Have reinforced their army on the frontiers.
The Duc de Bouillon—

RICHELIEU.
Hold!—In this department—
A paper—here, Sire,—read yourself—then take
The Count's advice in't.

Enter De Beringhen hastily, and draws aside Baradas.
(Richelieu, to Secretary, giving an open parchment.)
BARADAS
(bursting from De Beringhen).
What! and reft it from thee!
Ha!—hold!

JOSEPH.
Fall back, son,—it is your turn now!

BARADAS.
Death!—the Despatch!

LOUIS
(reading).
To Bouillon—and sign'd Orleans!—
Baradas, too!—league with our foes of Spain!—
Lead our Italian armies—what! to Paris!—
Capture the King—my health require repose—
Make me subscribe my proper abdication—
Orleans, my brother, Regent!—Saints of Heaven!
These are the men I loved!

(Baradas draws,—attempts to rush out,—is arrested. Orleans, endeavouring to escape more quickly, meets Josephs eye, and stops short.)
(Richelieu falls back.)
JOSEPH.
See to the Cardinal!

BARADAS.
He's dying!—and I yet shall dupe the King!

LOUIS
(rushing to Richelieu).
Richelieu!—Lord Cardinal!—'tis I resign!—
Reign thou!

JOSEPH.
Alas! too late!—he faints!

LOUIS.
Reign, Richelieu!

RICHELIEU
(feebly).
With absolute power?—

LOUIS.
Most absolute!—Oh! live!—
If not for me—for France!

RICHELIEU.
France!

LOUIS.
Oh! this treason!—
The army—Orleans—Bouillon—Heavens!—the Spaniard!—
Where will they be next week?—

RICHELIEU
(starting up).
There,—at my feet!
(To First and Second Secretary.)
Ere the clock strike!—The Envoys have their answer!
(To Third Secretary, with a ring.)
This to De Chavigny—he knows the rest—
No need of parchment here—he must not halt
For sleep—for food.—In my name,—MINE!—he will
Arrest the Duc de Bouillon at the head
Of his army!—Ho! there, Count de Baradas
Thou hast lost the stake!—Away with him!
(As the Guards open the folding-doors, a view of the ante-room beyond, lined with Courtiers. Baradas passes through the line.)
Ha!—ha!—
(Snatching de Mauprat's death-warrant from the officer.)
See here De Mauprat's death-writ, Julie!—
Parchment for battledores!—Embrace your husband!—
At last the old man blesses you!

JULIE.
O joy!
You are saved; you live—I hold you in these arms.

MAUPRAT.
Never to part—

JULIE.
No—never, Adrien—never!

LOUIS
(peevishly).
One moment makes a startling cure, Lord Cardinal;

RICHELIEU.
Ay, Sire, for in one moment there did pass
Into this wither'd frame the might of France!—
My own dear France—I have thee yet—I have saved thee!
I clasp thee still!—it was thy voice that call'd me
Back from the tomb!—What mistress like our country?

LOUIS.
For Mauprat's pardon—well! But Julie,—Richelieu,
Leave me one thing to love!—

RICHELIEU.
A subject's luxury!
Yet, if you must love something, Sire,—love me!

LOUIS
(smiling in spite of himself).
Fair proxy for a young fresh Demoiselle!

RICHELIEU.
Your heart speaks for my clients:—Kneel, my children,
And thank your King—

JULIE.
Ah, tears like these, my liege,
Are dews that mount to Heaven.

LOUIS.
Rise—rise—be happy.

(Richelieu beckons to De Beringhen.)
DE BERINGHEN
(falteringly).
My Lord—you are—most—happily—recover'd.

RICHELIEU.
But you are pale, dear Beringhen:—this air
Suits not your delicate frame—I long have thought so:—
Sleep not another night in Paris:—Go,—
Or else your precious life may be in danger.
Leave France, dear Beringhen!

DE BERINGHEN.
I shall have time,
More than I ask'd for,—to discuss the pâté.
[Exit De Beringhen.

RICHELIEU
(to Orleans).
For you, repentance—absence—and confession!
(To François.)
Never say fail again.—Brave Boy!
(To Joseph.)
He'll be—
A Bishop first.

JOSEPH.
Ah, Cardinal—

RICHELIEU.
Ah, Joseph!
(To Louis—as De Mauprat and Julie converse apart).
See, my liege—see thro' plots and counterplots—
Thro' gain and loss—thro' glory and disgrace—
Along the plains, where passionate Discord rears
Eternal Babel—still the holy stream
Of human happiness glides on!

LOUIS.
And must we
Thank for that also—our prime Minister?

RICHELIEU.
No—let us own it:—there is One above
Sways the harmonious mystery of the world
Ev'n better than prime ministers;—
Alas!
Our glories float between the earth and heaven
Like clouds which seem pavilions of the sun,
And are the playthings of the casual wind;
Still, like the cloud which drops on unseen crags
The dews the wild flower feeds on, our ambition
May from its airy height drop gladness down
On unsuspected virtue;—and the flower
May bless the cloud when it hath pass'd away!