University of Virginia Library

ACT V

Scene I

A Dungeon.
Alvar (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds.
Alvar.
And this place my forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivelled up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt, till, chang'd to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot!
Then we call in our pampered mountebanks:
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steam and vapours of his dungeon
By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
By sights of evermore deformity!
With other ministrations thou, O Nature!
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets;
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters!
Till he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit healed and harmonized
By the benignant touch of love and beauty.
I am chill and weary! Yon rude bench of stone,
In that dark angle, the sole resting-place!
But the self-approving mind is its own light
And life's best warmth still radiates from the heart
Where love sits brooding, and an honest purpose.

[Retires out of sight.
Enter Teresa with a taper.
Teresa.
It has chilled my very life—my own voice scares me;
Yet when I hear it not I seem to lose
The substance of my being—my strongest grasp
Sends inwards but weak witness that I am.
I seek to cheat the echo.—How the half sounds
Blend with this strangled light! Is he not here—
[Looking round.
O for one human face here—but to see
One human face here to sustain me.—Courage!
It is but my own fear! The life within me,
It sinks and wavers like this cone of flame,
Beyond which I scarce dare look onward! Oh!
If I faint? If this inhuman den should be
At once my death-bed and my burial vault?

[Faintly screams as Alvar emerges from the recess.
Alvar
(rushes towards her, and catches her as she is falling).
O gracious heaven! it is, it is Teresa!
Shall I reveal myself? The sudden shock
Of rapture will blow out this spark of life,
And joy complete what terror has begun.
O ye impetuous beatings here, be still!
Teresa, best beloved! pale, pale, and cold!
Her pulse doth flutter! Teresa! my Teresa!

Teresa
(recovering).
I heard a voice; but often in my dreams
I hear that voice! and wake and try—and try—
To hear it waking! but I never could—
And 'tis so now—even so! Well! he is dead—
Murdered perhaps! and I am faint, and feel
As if it were no painful thing to die!

Alvar.
Believe it not, sweet maid! Believe it not,
Belovéd woman! 'Twas a low imposture
Framed by a guilty wretch.

Teresa.
Ha! Who art thou?

Alvar.
Suborned by his brother—

Teresa.
Didst thou murder him?
And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man,
I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee!

Alvar.
Ordonio—he—

Teresa.
If thou didst murder him—
His spirit ever at the throne of God
Asks mercy for thee: prays for mercy for thee,
With tears in Heaven!

Alvar.
Alvar was not murdered.
Be calm! Be calm, sweet maid!

Teresa.
Nay, nay, but tell me!
[A pause.
O 'tis lost again!
This dull confuséd pain—
[A pause.
Mysterious man!
Methinks I can not fear thee: for thine eye
Doth swim with love and pity—Well! Ordonio—
Oh my foreboding heart! And he suborned thee,
And thou didst spare his life? Blessings shower on thee,
As many as the drops twice counted o'er
In the fond faithful heart of his Teresa!

Alvar.
I can endure no more. The Moorish sorcerer
Exists but in the stain upon his face.
That picture—

Teresa.
Ha! speak on!

Alvar.
Beloved Teresa!
It told but half the truth. O let this portrait
Tell all—that Alvar lives—that he is here!
Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar.

[Takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her.
Teresa
(receiving the portrait).
The same—it is the same! Ah! Who art thou?
Nay, I will call thee, Alvar!

[She falls on his neck.
Alvar.
O joy unutterable!
But hark! a sound as of removing bars
At the dungeon's outer door. A brief, brief while
Conceal thyself, my love! It is Ordonio.
For the honour of our race, for our dear father;
O for himself too (he is still my brother)
Let me recall him to his nobler nature,
That he may wake as from a dream of murder!
O let me reconcile him to himself,
Open the sacred source of penitent tears,
And be once more his own beloved Alvar.

Teresa.
O my all virtuous love! I fear to leave thee
With that obdurate man.

Alvar.
Thou dost not leave me!
But a brief while retire into the darkness:
O that my joy could spread its sunshine round thee!

Teresa.
The sound of thy voice shall be my music!
Alvar! my Alvar! am I sure I hold thee?
Is it no dream? thee in my arms, my Alvar!

[Exit.
[A noise at the Dungeon door. It opens, and Ordonio enters, with a goblet in his hand.
Ordonio.
Hail, potent wizard! in my gayer mood
I poured forth a libation to old Pluto,
And as I brimmed the bowl, I thought on thee.
Thou hast conspired against my life and honour,
Hast tricked me foully; yet I hate thee not.
Why should I hate thee? this same world of ours,
'Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain,
And we the air-bladders that course up and down,
And joust and tilt in merry tournament;
And when one bubble runs foul of another,
The weaker needs must break.

Alvar.
I see thy heart!
There is a frightful glitter in thine eye
Which doth betray thee. Inly-tortured man,
This is the revelry of a drunken anguish,
Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt,
And quell each human feeling.

Ordonio.
Feeling! feeling!
The death of a man—the breaking of a bubble—
'Tis true I cannot sob for such misfortunes;
But faintness, cold and hunger—curses on me
If willingly I e'er inflicted them!
Come, take the beverage; this chill place demands it.

[Ordonio proffers the goblet.
Alvar.
Yon insect on the wall,
Which moves this way and that its hundred limbs,
Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft,
It were an infinitely curious thing!
But it has life, Ordonio! life, enjoyment!
And by the power of its miraculous will
Wields all the complex movements of its frame
Unerringly to pleasurable ends!
Saw I that insect on this goblet's brim
I would remove it with an anxious pity!

Ordonio.
What meanest thou?

Alvar.
There's poison in the wine.

Ordonio.
Thou hast guessed right; there's poison in the wine.
There's poison in't—which of us two shall drink it?
For one of us must die!

Alvar.
Whom dost thou think me?

Ordonio.
The accomplice and sworn friend of Isidore.

Alvar.
I know him not.
And yet methinks, I have heard the name but lately.
Means he the husband of the Moorish woman?
Isidore? Isidore?

Ordonio.
Good! good! that lie! by heaven it has restored me.
Now I am thy master!—Villain! thou shalt drink it,
Or die a bitterer death.

Alvar.
What strange solution
Hast thou found out to satisfy thy fears,
And drug them to unnatural sleep?
[Alvar takes the goblet, and throws it to the ground.
My master!

Ordonio.
Thou mountebank!

Alvar.
Mountebank and villain!
What then art thou? For shame, put up thy sword!
What boots a weapon in a withered arm?
I fix mine eye upon thee, and thou tremblest!
I speak, and fear and wonder crush thy rage,
And turn it to a motionless distraction!
Thou blind self-worshipper! thy pride, thy cunning,
Thy faith in universal villainy,
Thy shallow sophisms, thy pretended scorn
For all thy human brethren—out upon them!
What have they done for thee? have they given thee peace?
Cured thee of starting in thy sleep? or made
The darkness pleasant when thou wak'st at midnight?
Art happy when alone? Can'st walk by thyself
With even step and quiet cheerfulness?
Yet, yet thou may'st be saved—

Ordonio.
Saved? saved?

Alvar.
One pang!
Could I call up one pang of true remorse!

Ordonio.
He told me of the babes that prattled to him,
His fatherless little ones! remorse! remorse!
Where got'st thou that fool's word? Curse on remorse!
Can it give up the dead, or recompact
A mangled body? mangled—dashed to atoms!
Not all the blessings of a host of angels
Can blow away a desolate widow's curse!
And though thou spill thy heart's blood for atonement,
It will not weigh against an orphan's tear!

Alvar.
But Alvar—

Ordonio.
Ha! it chokes thee in the throat,
Even thee; and yet I pray thee speak it out.
Still Alvar!—Alvar!—howl it in mine ear!
Heap it like coals of fire upon my heart,
And shoot it hissing through my brain!

Alvar.
Alas!
That day when thou didst leap from off the rock
Into the waves, and grasped thy sinking brother,
And bore him to the strand; then, son of Valdez,
How sweet and musical the name of Alvar!
Then, then, Ordonio, he was dear to thee,
And thou wert dear to him: heaven only knows
How very dear thou wert! Why did'st thou hate him!
O heaven! how he would fall upon thy neck,
And weep forgiveness!

Ordonio.
Spirit of the dead!
Methinks I know thee! ha! my brain turns wild
At its own dreams!—off—off, fantastic shadow!

Alvar.
I fain would tell thee what I am, but dare not!

Ordonio.
Cheat! villain! traitor! whatsoever thou be—
I fear thee, man!

Teresa
(rushing out and falling on Alvar's neck).
Ordonio! 'tis thy brother!
[Ordonio runs upon Alvar with his sword. Teresa flings herself on Ordonio and arrests his arm.
Stop, madman, stop!

Alvar.
Does then this thin disguise impenetrably
Hide Alvar from thee? Toil and painful wounds
And long imprisonment in unwholesome dungeons,
Have marred perhaps all trait and lineament
Of what I was! But chiefly, chiefly, brother,
My anguish for thy guilt!
Ordonio—Brother!
Nay, nay, thou shalt embrace me.

Ordonio
(drawing back, and gazing at Alvar).
Touch me not!
Touch not pollution, Alvar! I will die.

[He attempts to fall on his sword, Alvar and Teresa prevent him.
Alvar.
We will find means to save your honour. Live,
Oh live, Ordonio! for our father's sake!
Spare his grey hairs!

Teresa.
And you may yet be happy.

Ordonio.
O horror! not a thousand years in heaven
Could recompose this miserable heart,
Or make it capable of one brief joy!
Live! live! Why yes! 'Twere well to live with you:
For is it fit a villain should be proud?
My brother! I will kneel to you, my brother!
[Kneeling.
Forgive me, Alvar!—Curse me with forgiveness!

Alvar.
Call back thy soul, Ordonio, and look round thee!
Now is the time for greatness! Think that heaven—

Teresa.
O mark his eye! he hears not what you say.

Ordonio.
Yes, mark his eye! there's fascination in it!
Thou said'st thou did'st not know him—That is he!
He comes upon me!

Alvar.
Heal, O heal him, heaven!

Ordonio.
Nearer and nearer! and I can not stir!
Will no one hear these stifled groans, and wake me?
He would have died to save me, and I killed him—
A husband and a father!—

Teresa.
Some secret poison
Drinks up his spirits!

Ordonio.
Let the eternal justice
Prepare my punishment in the obscure world—
I will not bear to live—to live—O agony!
And be myself alone my own sore torment!

[The doors of the dungeon are broken open, and in rush Alhadra, and the band of Morescoes.
Alhadra.
Seize first that man!

[Alvar. presses onward to defend Ordonio.
Ordonio.
Off, ruffians! I have flung away my sword.
Woman, my life is thine! to thee I give it!
Off! he that touches me with his hand of flesh,
I'll rend his limbs asunder! I have strength
With this bare arm to scatter you like ashes.

Alhadra.
My husband—

Ordonio.
Yes, I murdered him most foully.

Alvar and Teresa.
O horrible!

Alhadra.
Why did'st thou leave his children?
Demon, thou should'st have sent thy dogs of hell
To lap their blood. Then, then I might have hardened
My soul in misery, and have had comfort.
I would have stood far off, quiet though dark,
And bade the race of men raise up a mourning
For a deep horror of desolation,
Too great to be one soul's particular lot!
Brother of Zagri! let me lean upon thee.
The time is not yet come for woman's anguish,
I have not seen his blood—Within an hour
Those little ones will crowd around and ask me,
Where is our father? I shall curse thee then!
Wert thou in heaven, my curse would pluck thee thence!

Teresa.
He doth repent! See, see, I kneel to thee!
O let him live! That agéd man, his father—

Alhadra.
Why had he such a son?
[Shouts from the distance of Rescue! Rescue! Alvar! Alvar! and the voice of Valdez heard.
Rescue?—and Isidore's spirit unavenged?—
The deed be mine!
[Suddenly stabs Ordonio.
Now take my life!

Ordonio
(staggering from the wound).
Atonement!

Alvar
(while with Teresa supporting Ordonio).
Arm of avenging Heaven
Thou hast snatched from me my most cherished hope—
But go! my word was pledged to thee.

Ordonio.
[Dies.

[Alvar and Teresa bend over the body of Ordonio.
Alhadra
(to the Moors).
I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast ordained it wisely,
That still extremes bring their own cure. That point
In misery, which makes the oppressed Man
Regardless of his own life, makes him too
Lord of the Oppressor's—Knew I a hundred men
Despairing, but not palsied by despair,
This arm should shake the kingdoms of the world;
The deep foundations of iniquity
Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them;
The strongholds of the cruel men should fall,
Their temples and their mountainous towers should fall;
Till desolation seemed a beautiful thing,
And all that were and had the spirit of life,
Sang a new song to her who had gone forth,
Conquering and still to conquer!

[Alhadra hurries off with the Moors; the stage fills with armed Peasants, and Servants, Zulimez and Valdez at their head. Valdez rushes into Alvar's arms.
Alvar.
Turn not thy face that way, my father! hide,
Oh hide it from his eye! Oh let thy joy
Flow in unmingled stream through thy first blessing.

[Both kneel to Valdez.
Valdez.
My Son! My Alvar! bless, Oh bless him, heaven!

Teresa.
Me too, my Father?

Valdez.
Bless, Oh bless my children!

[Both rise.
Alvar.
Delights so full, if unalloyed with grief,
Were ominous. In these strange dread events
Just Heaven instructs us with an awful voice,
That Conscience rules us e'en against our choice.
Our inward Monitress to guide or warn,
If listened to; but if repelled with scorn,
At length as dire Remorse, she reappears,
Works in our guilty hopes, and selfish fears!
Still bids, Remember! and still cries, Too late!
And while she scares us, goads us to our fate.