Kitabı oku: «Don Carlos», sayfa 3

SCENE VII

DON CARLOS (with letters in his hand), and MARQUIS POSA enter from opposite sides.

CARLOS

 
   I am resolved – Flanders shall yet be saved:
   So runs her suit, and that's enough for me!
 

MARQUIS

 
   There's not another moment to be lost:
   'Tis said Duke Alva in the cabinet
   Is named already as the governor.
 

CARLOS

 
   Betimes to-morrow will I see the king
   And ask this office for myself. It is
   The first request I ever made to him,
   And he can scarce refuse. My presence here
   Has long been irksome to him. He will grasp
   This fair pretence my absence to secure.
   And shall I confess to thee, Roderigo?
   My hopes go further. Face to face with him,
   'Tis possible the pleading of a son
   May reinstate him in his father's favor.
   He ne'er hath heard the voice of nature speak;
   Then let me try for once, my Roderigo,
   What power she hath when breathing from my lips.
 

MARQUIS

 
   Now do I hear my Carlos' voice once more;
   Now are you all yourself again!
 

SCENE VIII

The preceding. COUNT LERMA.

COUNT

 
               Your grace,
   His majesty has left Aranjuez;
   And I am bidden —
 

CARLOS

 
             Very well, my lord —
   I shall overtake the king —
 

MARQUIS (affecting to take leave with ceremony)

 
                  Your highness, then,
   Has nothing further to intrust to me?
 

CARLOS

 
   Nothing. A pleasant journey to Madrid!
   You may, hereafter, tell me more of Flanders.
 

[To LERMA, who is waiting for him.

 
   Proceed, my lord! I'll follow thee anon.
 

SCENE IX

DON CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA.

CARLOS

 
   I understood thy hint, and thank thee for it.
   A stranger's presence can alone excuse
   This forced and measured tone. Are we not brothers?
   In future, let this puppet-play of rank
   Be banished from our friendship. Think that we
   Had met at some gay masking festival,
   Thou in the habit of a slave, and I
   Robed, for a jest, in the imperial purple.
   Throughout the revel we respect the cheat,
   And play our parts with sportive earnestness,
   Tripping it gayly with the merry throng;
   But should thy Carlos beckon through his mask,
   Thou'dst press his hand in silence as he passed,
   And we should be as one.
 

MARQUIS

 
                The dream's divine!
   But are you sure that it will last forever?
   Is Carlos, then, so certain of himself
   As to despise the charms of boundless sway?
   A day will come – an all-important day —
   When this heroic mind – I warn you now —
   Will sink o'erwhelmed by too severe a test.
   Don Philip dies; and Carlos mounts the throne,
   The mightiest throne in Christendom. How vast
   The gulf that yawns betwixt mankind and him —
   A god to-day, who yesterday was man!
   Steeled to all human weakness – to the voice
   Of heavenly duty deaf. Humanity —
   To-day a word of import in his ear —
   Barters itself, and grovels 'mid the throng
   Of gaping parasites; his sympathy
   For human woe is turned to cold neglect,
   His virtue sunk in loose voluptuous joys.
   Peru supplies him riches for his folly,
   His court engenders devils for his vices.
   Lulled in this heaven the work of crafty slaves,
   He sleeps a charmed sleep; and while his dream
   Endures his godhead lasts. And woe to him
   Who'd break in pity this lethargic trance!
   What could Roderigo do? Friendship is true,
   And bold as true. But her bright flashing beams
   Were much too fierce for sickly majesty:
   You would not brook a subject's stern appeal,
   Nor I a monarch's pride!
 

CARLOS

 
                Tearful and true,
   Thy portraiture of monarchs. Yes – thou'rt right,
   But 'tis their lusts that thus corrupt their hearts,
   And hurry them to vice. I still am pure.
   A youth scarce numbering three-and-twenty years.
   What thousands waste in riotous delights,
   Without remorse – the mind's more precious part —
   The bloom and strength of manhood – I have kept,
   Hoarding their treasures for the future king.
   What could unseat my Posa from my heart,
   If woman fail to do it?
 

MARQUIS

 
                I, myself!
   Say, could I love you, Carlos, warm as now,
   If I must fear you?
 

CARLOS

 
              That will never be.
   What need hast thou of me? What cause hast thou
   To stoop thy knee, a suppliant at the throne?
   Does gold allure thee? Thou'rt a richer subject
   Than I shall be a king! Dost covet honors?
   E'en in thy youth, fame's brimming chalice stood
   Full in thy grasp – thou flung'st the toy away.
   Which of us, then, must be the other's debtor,
   And which the creditor? Thou standest mute.
   Dost tremble for the trial? Art thou, then,
   Uncertain of thyself?
 

MARQUIS

 
               Carlos, I yield!
   Here is my hand.
 

CARLOS

 
            Is it mine own?
 

MARQUIS

 
                     Forever —
   In the most pregnant meaning of the word!
 

CARLOS

 
   And wilt thou prove hereafter to the king
   As true and warm as to the prince to-day?
 

MARQUIS

 
   I swear!
 

CARLOS

 
        And when round my unguarded heart
   The serpent flattery winds its subtle coil,
   Should e'er these eyes of mine forget the tears
   They once were wont to shed; or should these ears
   Be closed to mercy's plea, – say, wilt thou, then,
   The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw
   Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up
   My genius by its mighty name?
 

MARQUIS

 
                   I will.
 

CARLOS

 
   And now one other favor let me beg.
   Do call me thou! Long have I envied this
   Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals.
   The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart,
   With sweet suggestions of equality.
   Nay, no reply: – I guess what thou wouldst say —
   To thee this seems a trifle – but to me,
   A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be
   A brother to me?
 

MARQUIS

 
            Yes; thy brother, yes!
 

CARLOS

 
   Now to the king – my fears are at an end.
   Thus, arm-in-arm with thee, I dare defy
   The universal world into the lists.
 

[Exeunt

ACT II

SCENE I

The royal palace at Madrid.

KING PHILIP under a canopy; DUKE ALVA at some distance, with his head covered; CARLOS.

CARLOS

 
   The kingdom takes precedence – willingly
   Doth Carlos to the minister give place —
   He speaks for Spain; I am but of the household.
 

[Bows and steps backward.

KING

 
   The duke remains – the Infanta may proceed.
 

CARLOS (turning to ALVA)

 
   Then must I put it to your honor, sir,
   To yield my father for a while to me.
   A son, you know, may to a father's ear
   Unbosom much, in fulness of his heart,
   That not befits a stranger's ear. The king
   Shall not be taken from you, sir – I seek
   The father only for one little hour.
 

KING

 
   Here stands his friend.
 

CARLOS

 
                And have I e'er deserved
   To think the duke should be a friend of mine?
 

KING

 
   Or tried to make him one? I scarce can love
   Those sons who choose more wisely than their fathers.
 

CARLOS

 
   And can Duke Alva's knightly spirit brook
   To look on such a scene? Now, as I live,
   I would not play the busy meddler's part,
   Who thrusts himself, unasked, 'twixt sire and son,
   And there intrudes without a blush, condemned
   By his own conscious insignificance,
   No, not, by heaven, to win a diadem!
 

KING (rising, with an angry look at the Prince)

 
   Retire, my lord!
 

[ALVA goes to the principal door, through which CARLOS had entered, the KING points to the other.

 
            No, to the cabinet,
   Until I call you.
 

SCENE II

KING PHILIP. DON CARLOS.

CARLOS (as soon as the DUKE has left the apartment, advances to the KING, throws himself at his feet, and then, with great emotion)

 
             My father once again!
   Thanks, endless thanks, for this unwonted favor!
   Your hand, my father! O delightful day!
   The rapture of this kiss has long been strange
   To your poor Carlos. Wherefore have I been
   Shut from my father's heart? What have I done?
 

KING

 
   Carlos, thou art a novice in these arts —
   Forbear, I like them not —
 

CARLOS (rising)

 
                 And is it so?
   I hear your courtiers in those words, my father!
   All is not well, by heaven, all is not true,
   That a priest says, and a priest's creatures plot.
   I am not wicked, father; ardent blood
   Is all my failing; – all my crime is youth; —
   Wicked I am not – no, in truth, not wicked; —
   Though many an impulse wild assails my heart,
   Yet is it still untainted.
 

KING

 
                 Ay, 'tis pure —
   I know it – like thy prayers —
 

CARLOS

 
                   Now, then, or never!
   We are, for once, alone – the barrier
   Of courtly form, that severed sire and son
   Has fallen! Now a golden ray of hope
   Illumes my soul – a sweet presentment
   Pervades my heart – and heaven itself inclines,
   With choirs of joyous angels, to the earth,
   And full of soft emotion, the thrice blest
   Looks down upon this great, this glorious scene!
   Pardon, my father!
      [He falls on his knees before him.
 

KING

 
             Rise, and leave me.
 

CARLOS

 
                        Father!
 

KING (tearing himself from him)

 
   This trifling grows too bold.
 

CARLOS

 
                   A son's devotion
   Too bold! Alas!
 

KING

 
            And, to crown all, in tears!
   Degraded boy! Away, and quit my sight!
 

CARLOS

 
   Now, then, or never! – pardon, O my father!
 

KING

 
   Away, and leave my sight! Return to me
   Disgraced, defeated, from the battle-field,
   Thy sire shall meet thee with extended arms:
   But thus in tears, I spurn thee from my feet.
   A coward's guilt alone should wash its stains
   In such ignoble streams. The man who weeps
   Without a blush will ne'er want cause for tears!
 

CARLOS

 
   Who is this man? By what mistake of nature
   Has he thus strayed amongst mankind? A tear
   Is man's unerring, lasting attribute.
   Whose eye is dry was ne'er of woman born!
   Oh, teach the eye that ne'er hath overflowed,
   The timely science of a tear – thou'lt need
   The moist relief in some dark hour of woe.
 

KING

 
   Think'st thou to shake thy father's strong mistrust
   With specious words?
 

CARLOS

 
              Mistrust! Then I'll remove it.
   Here will I hang upon my father's breast,
   Strain at his heart with vigor, till each shred
   Of that mistrust, which, with a rock's endurance,
   Clings firmly round it, piecemeal fall away.
   And who are they who drive me from the king —
   My father's favor? What requital hath
   A monk to give a father for a son?
   What compensation can the duke supply
   For a deserted and a childless age?
   Would'st thou be loved? Here in this bosom springs
   A fresher, purer fountain, than e'er flowed
   From those dark, stagnant, muddy reservoirs,
   Which Philip's gold must first unlock.
 

KING

 
                       No more,
   Presuming boy! For know the hearts thou slanderest
   Are the approved, true servants of my choice.
   'Tis meet that thou do honor to them.
 

CARLOS

 
                       Never!
   I know my worth – all that your Alva dares —
   That, and much more, can Carlos. What cares he,
   A hireling! for the welfare of the realm
   That never can be his? What careth he
   If Philip's hair grow gray with hoary age?
   Your Carlos would have loved you: – Oh, I dread
   To think that you the royal throne must fill
   Deserted and alone.
 

KING (seemingly struck by this idea, stands in deep thought; after a pause)

 
              I am alone!
 

CARLOS (approaching him with eagerness)

 
   You have been so till now. Hate me no more,
   And I will love you dearly as a son:
   But hate me now no longer! Oh, how sweet,
   Divinely sweet it is to feel our being
   Reflected in another's beauteous soul;
   To see our joys gladden another's cheek,
   Our pains bring anguish to another's bosom,
   Our sorrows fill another's eye with tears!
   How sweet, how glorious is it, hand in hand,
   With a dear child, in inmost soul beloved,
   To tread once more the rosy paths of youth,
   And dream life's fond illusions o'er again!
   How proud to live through endless centuries
   Immortal in the virtues of a son;
   How sweet to plant what his dear hand shall reap;
   To gather what will yield him rich return,
   And guess how high his thanks will one day rise!
   My father of this early paradise
   Your monks most wisely speak not.
 

KING (not without emotion)

 
                     Oh, my son,
   Thou hast condemned thyself in painting thus
   A bliss this heart hath ne'er enjoyed from thee.
 

CARLOS

 
   The Omniscient be my judge! You till this hour
   Have still debarred me from your heart, and all
   Participation in your royal cares.
   The heir of Spain has been a very stranger
   In Spanish land – a prisoner in the realm
   Where he must one day rule. Say, was this just,
   Or kind? And often have I blushed for shame,
   And stood with eyes abashed, to learn perchance
   From foreign envoys, or the general rumor,
   Thy courtly doings at Aranjuez.
 

KING

 
   Thy blood flows far too hotly in thy veins.
   Thou would'st but ruin all.
 

CARLOS

 
                  But try me, father.
   'Tis true my blood flows hotly in my veins.
   Full three-and-twenty years I now have lived,
   And naught achieved for immortality.
   I am aroused – I feel my inward powers —
   My title to the throne arouses me
   From slumber, like an angry creditor;
   And all the misspent hours of early youth,
   Like debts of honor, clamor in mine ears.
   It comes at length, the glorious moment comes
   That claims full interest on the intrusted talent.
   The annals of the world, ancestral fame,
   And glory's echoing trumpet urge me on.
   Now is the blessed hour at length arrived
   That opens wide to me the list of honor.
   My king, my father! dare I utter now
   The suit which led me hither?
 

KING

 
                   Still a suit?
   Unfold it.
 

CARLOS

 
         The rebellion in Brabant
   Increases to a height – the traitor's madness
   By stern, but prudent, vigor must be met.
   The duke, to quell the wild enthusiasm,
   Invested with the sovereign's power, will lead
   An army into Flanders. Oh, how full
   Of glory is such office! and how suited
   To open wide the temple of renown
   To me, your son! To my hand, then, O king,
   Intrust the army; in thy Flemish lands
   I am well loved, and I will freely gage
   My life for their fidelity and truth.
 

KING

 
   Thou speakest like a dreamer. This high office
   Demands a man – and not a stripling's arm.
 

CARLOS

 
   It but demands a human being, father:
   And that is what Duke Alva ne'er hath been.
 

KING

 
   Terror alone can tie rebellion's hands:
   Humanity were madness. Thy soft soul
   Is tender, son: they'll tremble at the duke.
   Desist from thy request.
 

CARLOS

 
                Despatch me, sire,
   To Flanders with the army – dare rely
   E'en on my tender soul. The name of prince,
   The royal name emblazoned on my standard,
   Conquers where Alva's butchers but dismay.
   Here on my knees I crave it – this the first
   Petition of my life. Trust Flanders to me.
 

KING (contemplating CARLOS with a piercing look)

 
   Trust my best army to thy thirst for rule,
   And put a dagger in my murderer's hand!
 

CARLOS

 
   Great God! and is this all – is this the fruit
   Of a momentous hour so long desired!
 

[After some thought, in a milder tone.

 
   Oh, speak to me more kindly – send me not
   Thus comfortless away – dismiss me not
   With this afflicting answer, oh, my father!
   Use me more tenderly, indeed, I need it.
   This is the last resource of wild despair —
   It conquers every power of firm resolve
   To beat it as a man – this deep contempt —
   My every suit denied: Let me away —
   Unheard and foiled in all my fondest hopes,
   I take my leave. Now Alva and Domingo
   May proudly sit in triumph where your son
   Lies weeping in the dust. Your crowd of courtiers,
   And your long train of cringing, trembling nobles,
   Your tribe of sallow monks, so deadly pale,
   All witnessed how you granted me this audience.
   Let me not be disgraced. Oh, strike me not
   With this most deadly wound – nor lay me bare
   To sneering insolence of menial taunts!
   "That strangers riot on your bounty, whilst
   Carlos, your son, may supplicate in vain."
   And as a pledge that you would have me honored,
   Despatch me straight to Flanders with the army.
 

KING

 
   Urge thy request no farther – as thou wouldst
   Avoid the king's displeasure.
 

CARLOS

 
                   I must brave
   My king's displeasure, and prefer my suit
   Once more, it is the last. Trust Flanders to me!
   I must away from Spain. To linger here
   Is to draw breath beneath the headsman's axe:
   The air lies heavy on me in Madrid
   Like murder on a guilty soul – a change,
   An instant change of clime alone can cure me.
   If you would save my life, despatch me straight
   Without delay to Flanders.
 

KING (with affected coldness)

 
                 Invalids,
   Like thee, my son – need not be tended close,
   And ever watched by the physician's eye —
   Thou stayest in Spain – the duke will go to Flanders.
 

CARLOS (wildly)

 
   Assist me, ye good angels!
 

KING (starting)

 
                 Hold, what mean
   Those looks so wild?
 

CARLOS

 
              Father, do you abide
   Immovably by this determination?
 

KING

 
   It was the king's.
 

CARLOS

 
             Then my commission's done.
 

[Exit in violent emotion.

SCENE III

King, sunk in gloomy contemplation, walks a few steps up and down; Alva approaches with embarrassment.

KING

 
   Hold yourself ready to depart for Brussels
   Upon a moment's notice.
 

ALVA

 
   All is prepared, my liege.
 

KING

 
                 And your credentials
   Lie ready sealed within my cabinet, —
   Meanwhile obtain an audience of the queen,
   And bid the prince farewell.
 

ALVA

 
                  As I came in
   I met him with a look of frenzy wild
   Quitting the chamber; and your majesty
   Is strangely moved, methinks, and bears the marks
   Of deep excitement – can it be the theme
   Of your discourse —
 

KING

 
              Concerned the Duke of Alva.
 

[The KING keeps his eye steadfastly fixed on him.

 
   I'm pleased that Carlos hates my councillors,
   But I'm disturbed that he despises them.
 

[ALVA, coloring deeply, is about to speak.

 
   No answer now: propitiate the prince.
 

ALVA

 
   Sire!
 

KING

 
       Tell me who it was that warned me first
   Of my son's dark designs? I listened then
   To you, and not to him. I will have proof.
   And for the future, mark me, Carlos stands
   Nearer the throne – now duke – you may retire.
 

[The KING retires into his cabinet. Exit DUKE by another door.

SCENE IV

The antechamber to the QUEEN'S apartments. DON CARLOS enters in conversation with a PAGE. The attendants retire at his approach.

CARLOS

 
   For me this letter? And a key! How's this?
   And both delivered with such mystery!
   Come nearer, boy: – from whom didst thou receive them?
 

PAGE (mysteriously)

 
   It seemed to me the lady would be guessed
   Rather than be described.
 

CARLOS (starting)

 
                 The lady, what!
   Who art thou, boy?
 

[Looking earnestly at the PAGE.

PAGE

 
   A page that serves the queen.
 

CARLOS (affrighted, putting his hand to the PAGE's mouth)

 
   Hold, on your life! I know enough: no more.
 

[He tears open the letter hastily, and retires to read it; meanwhile DUKE ALVA comes, and passing the Prince, goes unperceived by him into the QUEEN'S apartment, CARLOS trembles violently and changes color; when he has read the letter he remains a long time speechless, his eyes steadfastly fixed on it; at last he turns to the PAGE.

 
   She gave you this herself?
 

PAGE

 
                 With her own hands.
 

CARLOS

 
   She gave this letter to you then herself?
   Deceive me not: I ne'er have seen her writing,
   And I must credit thee, if thou canst swear it;
   But if thy tale be false, confess it straight,
   Nor put this fraud on me.
 

PAGE

 
                 This fraud, on whom?
 

CARLOS (looking once more at the letter, then at the PAGE with doubt and earnestness)

 
   Your parents – are they living? and your father —
   Serves he the king? Is he a Spaniard born?
 

PAGE

 
   He fell a colonel on St. Quentin's field,
   Served in the cavalry of Savoy's duke —
   His name Alonzo, Count of Henarez.
 

CARLOS (taking his hand, and looking fixedly in his eyes)

 
   The king gave you this letter?
 

PAGE (with emotion)

 
                   Gracious prince,
   Have I deserved these doubts?
 

CARLOS (reading the letter)

 
                   "This key unlocks
   The back apartments in the queen's pavilion,
   The furthest room lies next a cabinet
   Wherein no listener's foot dare penetrate;
   Here may the voice of love without restraint
   Confess those tender feelings, which till now
   The heart with silent looks alone hath spoken.
   The timid lover gains an audience here,
   And sweet reward repays his secret sorrow."
 

[As if awakening from a reverie.

 
   I am not in a dream, do not rave,
   This is my right hand, this my sword – and these
   Are written words. 'Tis true – it is no dream.
   I am beloved, I feel I am beloved.
 

[Unable to contain himself, he rushes hastily through the room, and raises his arms to heaven.

PAGE

 
   Follow me, prince, and I will lead the way.
 

CARLOS

 
   Then let me first collect my scattered thoughts.
   The alarm of joy still trembles in my bosom.
   Did I e'er lift my fondest hopes so high,
   Or trust my fancy to so bold a flight?
   Show me the man can learn thus suddenly
   To be a god. I am not what I was.
   I feel another heaven – another sun
   That was not here before. She loves – she loves me!
 

PAGE (leading him forward).

 
   But this is not the place: prince! you forget.
 

CARLOS

 
   The king! My father!
 

[His arms sink, he casts a timid look around, then collecting himself.

 
               This is dreadful! Yes,
   You're right, my friend. I thank you: I was not
   Just then myself. To be compelled to silence,
   And bury in my heart this mighty bliss,
   Is terrible!
 

[Taking the PAGE by the hand, and leading him aside.

 
          Now here! What thou hast seen,
   And what not seen, must be within thy breast
   Entombed as in the grave. So now depart;
   I shall not need thy guidance; they must not
   Surprise us here! Now go.
 

[The PAGE is about to depart.

 
                 Yet hold, a word!
 

[The PAGE returns. CARLOS lays his hand on his shoulder, and looks him steadily in the face.

 
   A direful secret hast thou in thy keeping,
   Which, like a poison of terrific power,
   Shivers the cup that holds it into atoms.
   Guard every look of thine, nor let thy head
   Guess at thy bosom's secret. Be thou like
   The senseless speaking-trumpet that receives
   And echoes back the voice, but hears it not.
   Thou art a boy! Be ever so; continue
   The pranks of youth. My correspondent chose
   Her messenger of love with prudent skill!
   The king will ne'er suspect a serpent here.
 

PAGE

 
   And I, my prince, shall feel right proud to know
   I am one secret richer than the king.
 

CARLOS

 
   Vain, foolish boy! 'tis this should make thee tremble.
   Approach me ever with a cold respect:
   Ne'er be induced by idle pride to boast
   How gracious is the prince! No deadlier sin
   Canst thou commit, my son, than pleasing me.
   Whate'er thou hast in future for my ear,
   Give not to words; intrust not to thy lips,
   Ne'er on that common high road of the thoughts
   Permit thy news to travel. Speak with an eye,
   A finger; I will answer with a look.
   The very air, the light, are Philip's creatures,
   And the deaf walls around are in his pay.
   Some one approaches; fly, we'll meet again.
 

[The QUEEN'S chamber opens, and DUKE ALVA comes out.

PAGE

 
   Be careful, prince, to find the right apartment.
 

[Exit.

CARLOS

 
   It is the duke! Fear not, I'll find the way.