 | Richelieu ; Or The Conspiracy |  |
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.
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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!)
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(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.)
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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—
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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—
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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?
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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.
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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!
See in “Cinq Mars,” vol. v., the striking and brilliant chapter from which the interlude of the Secretaries is borrowed.
The passion of the drama requires this catastrophe for Baradas. He, however, survived his disgrace,—though stripped of all his rapidly-acquired fortunes—and the daring that belonged to his character won him distinction in foreign service. He returned to France after Richelieu's death, but never regained the same court influence. He had taken the vows of a knight of Malta, and Louis made him a Prior!
The sudden resuscitation of Richelieu (not to strain too much on the real passion which supports him in this scene) is in conformance with the more dissimulating part of his character. The extraordinary mobility of his countenance (latterly so deathlike, save when the mind spoke in the features) always lent itself to stage effect of this nature. The queen mother said of him, that she had seen him one moment so feeble, cast down, and “semi-mort,” that he seemed on the point of giving up the ghost—and the next moment he would start up full of animation, energy, and life.
| Richelieu ; Or The Conspiracy | |