Sem. The accident?
Khos. ’t was not
Designed?
Sem. It was ... for you.
Khos. By Ninus?
Sem. Ay.
You were to die.
Khos. Then you—you knew—that he—
(Starts from her in horror)
Sem. What ’s in thy mind? What thought doth paint thy face
In dreadful silence? Oh! you think that I—
(Looks at him with equal horror. Removes farther from him, regains composure, and speaks with haughty coldness)
This serves me well! Right well, Armenian!
Yes—yes—I knew—I knew the king would fall.
But knew, too, sir, that Vassin was below,
And, by my precious gods, I did not dream
He would not save his king! While you—my guest—
You would have gone to death!
Khos. Forgive me!
(Semiramis walks farther, not heeding him)
Oh,
I found a stream that ran from heavenly springs
And in it cast the soot of hell!
Sem. Well served—
Well served, Semiramis!... I was so sad ...
And would not be content to let him go ...
I wanted but a word ... a word to cheer me ...
And now I have it—murderess!
Khos. (Who has advanced to her) No, no,
I did not say it!
Sem. The tongue may well keep silent
When eyes speak lightning. I have heard too much!
’T were better I had let you die!
Khos. Ay, better ...
Better than this!
Sem. Now, now I am Assyria!
No more a woman! Softness to the winds!
And let my heart be as my armor—steel!
Khos. Thou canst not make it so by saying it.
There is no cold or heat may temper hearts
Away from their true nature. Mail thyself
From head to foot, thou ’rt still Semiramis!
Sem. A queen!
(An officer enters, left)
Off. Your majesty, an urgent hand
Brings this report.
(Gives paper to her, which she reads)
Sem. The Ghecs are in revolt!
Thank them for me! They could not show me favor
More to my heart!
(Exit officer, left)
I ’m sick of peace—this peace
That gives men time to brood and breed foul thoughts
And fouler deeds! Give me the open war whose blows
Rain down as free as moonbeams from the sun!
Who meets me there I know, at least, he ’s brave,
And there—
Khos. Semiramis!
Sem. (Proudly) Armenia, speak!
You have our leave.
Khos. These Ghecs—my father is
Their ancient, sworn ally!
Khos. His oath
Binds him to give them aid.
Sem. The braver then
The battle!
Khos. I am my father’s son!
Sem. You mean
We ’ll meet upon the field!
Khos. I can not take
The field against you!
Sem. No? Why not?
Khos. You know!
Because I love you!
Sem. Sir, I am Assyria!
Khos. Nay, but Menones’ daughter! She whose heart
I touched—
Sem. You touched?
Khos. Ere taint of pride or power
Or mad ambition had laid a canker there!
When she was maiden still, and knew no thought
She might not whisper in her father’s ear!
Gentle as Spring when hushing the young dove,
But strong from virgin battle, with the flush
Of valorous purpose pure as goddess’ dream
Starting the noble war-blood in her cheek!
’Tis she I speak to now—she that I love—
Not the proud queen grown bold in blood and triumph!
Love me, Semiramis! You shall have peace!
Not this sick peace that turns your heart to hate,
But peace that charms the beauty back to life
And new dreams to the soul! O, no more war!
Then lilies springing in thy steps shall say
What fairer grace went by! These fingers shall
Forget the sword whose music is men’s groans,
And on sweet strings draw out the heart of love
To give the world the key of melody!
Ah, you shall war no more—
Sem. Sir, you forget!
These Ghecs—
Khos. Will not revolt if I become
Assyria’s head! They trust me as their—
Sem. You!
Assyria’s head! You! you! O, now I see!
I ’m not yet blind, although my heart was fast
Upstealing to my eyes to make me so!
Khos. O clear thy sight a second time, my queen,
And read me true!
Sem. And you had almost moved me!
Khos. Melt, stony eyes—
Sem. The magic ’s left the earth
That had the power to soften them!
Khos. Not so—
Sem. You ’d keep me still the general’s humble daughter
While you would wear the glory I have won!
Khos. Nay, by Mylitta’s fire!—
Sem. We ’d war no more.
For who has all may well hang by the sword!
Khos. By Heaven, I—
Sem. O, you are man as he was!
(Looks toward the garden shuddering)
I ’ll trust no more! Who ’s worthy trust will give it!
So saidst thou once! But thou couldst doubt—so dark
A doubt my soul—
Khos. Nay, that’s not my offense!
You are a woman, and you must forgive!
But you are queen, too, and the queen in you
Guards her ambition from my honest love
Lest it divide her glory!
Sem. True, she guards it!
Out of Assyrian stone I ’ll make a heart
And wear it in my bosom!
Khos. Do not say it!
I did not mean the words! They are not so!
Thou dost not know thyself! Hard are the lips
That never know a kiss, and thine were made
With softness of the rose! Though all the streams
Of power on earth poured to thy sovereign sea,
Still wouldst thou want, and empty be the heart
One drop of love would fill!
Sem. You speak
As to a woman!
Khos. Ay, for so thou art!
Be now thyself! Thy peace alone I plead!
I can bear all but thy unhappiness!
For love—true love—forgets itself and makes
But one prayer unto Heaven—prayer for the good
Of the beloved!
Sem. Thou wouldst not share my throne?
Khos. Thy throne?
Sem. Ay, so I said.
Khos. I care not for it,
But since ’tis thine, I could not be a man
Worthy thyself and take a place beneath thee.
I ’d be thy husband, and I know thou ’rt not
A woman to look down and love!
Sem. O theft
In argument! To make my monarch soul
Speak from thy mouth against me!
Khos. Not against thee!
To beg thee yield to love is but to plead
Thy greater cause! Ah, days will come to thee
When all the maiden in thy heart will rise
And drown the queen’s! Thou canst not call me back!
To-morrow is the battle! O, I lied
To say thou wert ambitious and ungentle—
Sem. No, thou didst not! ’Tis true! I am—
Khos. No, no!
I ’ll prove it is not so! See here—the dove—
That nestles at your breast! Why is it here?
Sem. Because I was a woman once—and dreamed
On foolish, woman things! (Frees bird from her bosom)
Fly! fly!
And as I pluck thee out I pluck away
All thought of mortal love, and stand alone
Beneath Assyria’s crown!
Khos. (Gazes at her in despair) Then I ’ll be gone!
Sem. You ’ve pleaded well, but my domains are broad,
And might give tongue to wilder eloquence
Without love’s sweet excuse!
Khos. No more! I go!
(Moves off, left. Near exit, turns)
I lead my father’s troops!
Sem. I lead my own!
(Exit Khosrove. She looks after him without moving until he passes out of sight. The moonlight is less bright. Her dove flies over her head. She starts and looks after it. The bird alights. She watches it eagerly and waits. It circles about her, then darts to her bosom. With an exultant moan she clasps it to her breast)
(CURTAIN)
ACT IV.
Scene: Within Husak’s tent. Husak, Khosrove, Armenian lords and soldiers.
Husak. Bring in the widow!
(Exeunt officers)
Now, my son, thou ’lt see
Assyria at thy feet. Ay, she who scorned
To match her crown with thine, shall low as earth
Cry up for favor!
Khos. Sir, I would not see it!
Hus. Still in that humor? Well, I promise thee
She shall have mercy.
Khos. Mercy, father?
Hus. Ay.
Khos. What wilt thou grant?
Hus. Ask of thy heart,
(Khosrove is about to speak) Peace, boy!
For once we ’ll be a father, not a soldier! Wait!
(Khosrove kneels and kisses his father’s hand as Semiramis enters between guards. She is robed and crowned, her arms fettered with golden chains, and holds herself proudly, not looking at Husak. She turns to Khosrove, who watches her eagerly)
Sem. We meet again. Wert thou upon the field?
I saw thee not. Perchance thy father thought
’T were wise to find his health and lead his troops
Lest Love should blunt thy sword!
Hus. By Bel, his sword
Was sharp enough to find the heart of Sumbat,—
Your general!
Sem. Sumbat slain! (Turns to Khosrove) and slain by you!
Khos. I had my choice—to slay him or to die.
Sem. (With bitter scorn) And did the love that makes one prayer to Heaven
Rule in that choice?
Hus. These taunts, Semiramis—
Khos. Nay, father, she has cause to use me so.
Sem. Oh, you confess you played with me! Then, heart,
In with thy scorn for this outbraves thy own!
(Turns away, folding her chained hands on her breast, and stands as if she would speak no more)
Hus. You make no suit for mercy?
Sem. (Turning to him) What! from thee?
Who kill your captives ere your tent is struck,
Nor spare a guard to drive them from the field?
Hus. I grant what I would ask—death before serfdom!
You ’d keep them for your dogs and slaves!
Sem. And when
Am I to die? Why breach thy custom now?
Hus. We like your spirit, but push not so far,
Or we shall break the bounds we ’ve set ourselves.
Have you not found us gracious to your rank?
You look not like a prisoner!
Sem. No thanks
For that! This robe and crown, these chains of gold
Are compliments that Husak pays himself,
Proclaiming him a royal victory,
Though not a royal victor!
Hus. What! Dar’st fling
Into my face that the Armenian kings
Rule unanointed? Dost think that I would sue
To Nineveh or Babylon for leave
To take my kingly emblems from their hands?
But thou—thou shalt owe thine to me! I wear
No proud insignia of the gods, and yet
My hands shall strip and clothe thee as I will!
(Tears off her robe and crown)
Khos. Father!
Hus. By sun and moon—
Khos. O, sir—
Hus. Her pride
Insults my mercy, but I ’ll keep my word.
Take these. (Gives him the robe and crown)
Now, woman, learn that Husak—ay,
Husak, the Fierce, can pity fallen glory!
Stand forth, my son! Look, captive, on this prince!
A man not made to sue to less than gods!
Make him thy husband-king, and from his hands
Receive thy purple and remount thy throne!
(All are astonished. Khosrove shrinks back in shame, which Semiramis misunderstands)
Sem. Methinks this lover makes no ardent suit,
King Husak! Why, the sun has not twice set
Since he did swear me dearer than my crown,
And now the crown ’s too much if my poor self
Must burden it!
(Khosrove kneels before her, holding up the crown)
Hus. Rise, sir! You give, not sue!
(Semiramis looks down on Khosrove, then turns to Husak)
Sem. Thank, thanks,
Old man, for making me once more myself!
For by the blood that storms through all my veins
I know I ’m still a queen! Now all the pride
That lives in my lost crown, and all the scorn
Should meet thy fawning suit, be in my words,—
I do refuse your son! Assyria
Shall owe her throne to none!
(Khosrove springs up, trampling the robe)
Hus. Now thou wilt rise!
A prince who might have gone with gods to wive
Nor bated them in choice! This to my face!
I, Husak, fawn on woman! Out with her!
Drag her to death! To instant death! Out! out!
(Guards approach Semiramis)
Khos. To instant death?
Hus. (Looks searchingly at him.) Ha! ha! Not yet! She ’s thine!
Choose thy revenge! Have now thy will!
Khos. Thou ’lt grant it?
Hus. Ay, ay, whate’er thou wouldst!
Khos. She is thy captive.
Hus. I make her thine! My conqueror’s right I yield
To thee!
Khos. Dost swear it?
Hus. Doubt me not! I swear!
Khos. By Belus’ star?
Hus. By Belus’ star, whose beams
Are death to breakers of an oath! We ask
This crown—no more. (Takes crown from Khosrove’s hand) You pause. Stand not, my son.
Thy vengeance waits. Do what thou wilt with her,
We ’ll question not.
(Khosrove strikes off the chains of Semiramis)
Khos. Go free to Nineveh.
(Husak stands in amazed silence, then understands and burns with speechless anger. At last he speaks slowly with intense wrath)
Hus. All madmen in my kingdom die! Bind him!
Sem. Die? No! O, sir, you would not slay your son?
Hus. This loathsome thing is not my flesh!
Sem. Thy son!
Hus. We have no son. Armenia has no heir.
Bear him away!
Sem. (Holding out her hands) My chains! Dost think I ’ll owe
My life to him? Thou know’st not yet my pride!
Bind me and set him free!
Hus. (Thunderingly) No! Husak breaks
No oath! We’re not a god as Nineveh,
And bold to mock at Heaven!
Khos. (To Semiramis) I knew the price,
And chose to pay it. ’Tis my wish. Farewell!
(Guards bear him out)
Hus. (To Semiramis) Go free to Nineveh!
Sem. No! O, kill me!
Hus. Nay, go! But go alone—on foot—and through
A hostile country!
Sem. Ah!
Hus. That subject who
Shall give thee food or drink dies in the act!
Proclaim it, all!... Come, friends, we ’ve not yet held
The feast of victory. The slighted gods
Will snatch away their favor if we long
Delay our revels. Though we ’ll miss one face,
(Suppresses a groan)
We ’ll know this much—there ’ll be no traitor there!
(All leave the tent but Semiramis)
Sem. Alone ... on foot ... and through a hostile country!
I ’ll overtake thee, Khosrove, ere thou ’st reached
Thy throne among the stars! Thou goest from love,
And wilt look back and weep from every cloud;
I on thy track shall pause not till our wings
Stir the same air and lock in kisses flying!
... So pay my scorn? How then hadst loved if heart
Had brought to heart its swelling measure? Then
Our rosy hours had been the pick of time,
And hung a flower ’mong withered centuries
When every age had brought its reckoning in!
O, why will we, some cubits high, pluck at
The sun and moon, when we have that within
Makes us the soul and centre of Heaven itself?
Ambition, thou hast played away my crown
And life. That I forgive thee, but not this—
Thou ’st robbed me of the memory of his kiss.
... Go, world! The conqueror’s trump that closed my ears
Unto the angel in a lover’s voice
Dies to a moan that fills but one lone heart.
And soon ’tis silent. Ah, though woman build
Her house of glory to the kissing skies,
And the proud sun her golden rafters lay,
And on her turrets pause discoursing gods,
Let her not dare forget the stanchion truth—
Immortal writ in every mortal face—
“Thou art the wife and mother of the world!”
(Sees Khosrove’s cloak upon the floor, and kneels by it, taking it in her hands)
My Khosrove!... Methought a god struck off my chains
So strong and fair he seemed, yet strove to hide
The beauty of his act, as might a star
Shrink in its own sweet light!
(Buries her face in the folds of the cloak)
O, noble prince,
I might have kissed thy lips and not thy garment!
(Rises and wraps the cloak about her. Spurns with her foot her own robe which has been left trampled)
Thou purple rag, lie there! Love’s vesture shall
Enfold me as I go!
(Starts out) Alone ... on foot ...
But I ’ve not far to journey. Foes are kind....
The first one met ... well, I will thank him!... Cries?
It is the feast. A man may feast who had—
But has no son!... (Startled) ’Tis not the feast!... I know
That noise confused—hoarse shouts—shrieks—pawing steeds—
And rumbling chariots! Those are the tones
Of battle! O, the bloody work! ’Tis war!
Did it delight me once?... Assyrian cries!
My troops! my troops! They ’ve rallied! How they cheer!
What brave heart leads them on?
(Cries come nearer)
Poor creatures, they
Would save me knowing not I died with Khosrove.
I will not live—
(The rear of the tent is torn away by an onslaught. Assyrian troops enter, led by Artavan)
Art. Semiramis!
Sem. My brother!
You live!
Art. And you!
Sem. Praise Heaven there is one
Will comfort my sad kingdom!
Art. Nay, all ’s well!
The death of Ninus freed me from my prison;
I gathered troops and pushed hard after you,
To hear you had been taken; then I planned
This rescue. Thank great Belus, I ’m in time!
Sem. In time? Nay, thou ’rt too late!
Art. Too late? When thou
Dost live?
Sem. I live? No! Thou ’rt deceived!
Art. O Heaven!
... She ’s dazed! Her troubles have bewildered her.
All ’s well, my sister! Husak has been taken.
Thy crown itself is in our hands ... The crown!
(A soldier hands it to him)
You see ’tis safe. (She takes it idly)
Sem. A crown. For such a thing
Wouldst give thy Sola?
Art. She is dear to me,
But ay, by Heaven, I would!
Sem. You would? I know
A greater thing than this.
Art. What, sister?
Sem. (Letting the crown fall) Love.
Art. O, she is crazed! This is some evil work!
Bring in the captive Husak! He shall speak!
Sem. O, brother, once I thought thy love was truest
That ever husband gave to wife, but now
It showeth dark against my lover’s truth!
Art. Semiramis ... sweet sister ... What dost mean?
... I ’ll know the cause of this! Call in the prince
With Husak!
Sem. Prince?
Art. Ay ... Khosrove, whom we found
In chains—I know not why—and I unbound him,
Recalling how he saved my life,—but now
I ’ll know what thou hast suffered at his hands!
Sem. You found him bound? I can not hear—or see!
Art. She swoons—she dies—O, true, we are too late!
Sem. No, brother, thou ’rt in time! I live! I live!
I am Semiramis! Give me my crown!
Now this small circlet seems to me the world,
And it is mine—to wear—or give away!
Is ’t not, good friends?
Voices. Ay, ’tis!
(Enter soldiers with Husak and Khosrove, Husak in fetters)
Sem. King Husak, hear!
Assyria and Armenia should be friends,
Joining true hands to bring a happy peace
O’er all the East. And in that dearest hope
I free thee. (Unbinds him) But thy son, the prince, must be
Again my prisoner.
Hus. O, queen, I ’ve spent
One childless hour, and rather would I die
Than know another. Take my life for his.
Art. Dost thou forget, Semiramis, that once
He saved thy brother?
Sem. I remember all,
But will not change his doom. He must be bound,
Nor from my fetters may he go alive.
These are his chains—(Putting her arms about his neck) his prison deathless love,
And here I pray that he will wear this crown,
And hold with me the great Assyrian throne!
... (calls) My chariot!
Khos. My queen! my queen!
Sem. Wilt thou
Consent?
Khos. (Kisses her lips) I answer here.
(The royal chariot appears, rear. They step in)
Sem. (Giving the reins to Khosrove) To Nineveh!
(CURTAIN)
CARLOTTA
| ACT I. | |
|---|---|
| Scene 1. | Miramar. |
| Scene 2. | In the mountains of Mexico. |
| ACT II. | |
| Scene 1. | Chapultapec. |
| ACT III. | |
| Scene 1. | Before the Imperial Theatre. |
| Scene 2. | Within the theatre. |
| ACT IV. | |
| Scene 1. | Queretaro. |
| ACT V. | |
| Scene 1. | The Tuileries. |
| Scene 2. | Miramar. |
CHARACTERS
Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico
Carlotta, Empress of Mexico
Louis Napoleon, Emperor of France
Eugenie, Empress of France
Benito Juarez, President of Mexico
Ignacio, nephew to Juarez
Rafael Mendores, friend of Ignacio
Aseffa, wife of Rafael
Trevino, Escobedo, Garza, officers in the Liberal Army
Miramon, leader of the Imperial party
Marshal Bazaine, head of the French Army in Mexico
Marquez, Mejia, Mendez, Dupin, Lopez, of the Imperial army
Abbot of Lacroma
Archbishop Labastida, head of the Mexican church
Prince Salm-Salm, friend and officer of Maximilian
Prince Zichy,
Ruiz, Berzabal, Estrada, Mexican nobles
Lady Maria, sister to Count Charles
Princess Salm-Salm
Princess Zichy
Princess Metternich
Senor Hurbet, General Castlenau, Marquis de Gallifet, in the service of Louis Napoleon
Austrian, Belgian, Prussian, and other foreign ministers at the court of Napoleon III.
Imperial soldiers, Liberal soldiers, guards, rabble, ladies of honor, officers of the court, etc., etc.
ACT I.
Scene I: Reception hall, castle of Miramar, near Trieste. Enter Count Charles, book in hand.
Char. Ah, books must be put by for swords, I wot,
When this wild journey to the West begins.
’T is change enough! O shifting, shuffling life!
Come, Shakespeare, magic mason, build me worlds
That never shake however winds may blow,
Founded on dream imperishable! (Sits and reads. Enter Lady Maria)
Mar. Charles!
Not reading! Dost know what day it is?
Char. Ay, sister!
A day to make a scholar tremble, and hug
His books in fever of farewell.
Mar. Didst see
The splendid carriages glittering up the drive?
And O, so many!
Char. They have arrived?
Mar. Arrived!
Why, all the Mexican deputies, arrayed
Like their own sunsets,—the ambassadors
From Austria, Belgium, France,—the princesses,
And countesses, now in the guest-room wait
The stroke of twelve to enter! ’T is nearly time,
And you sit here! Put by your Englishman!
Come, put him by, I say! He ’s dead; we live.
He ’s had his due and passed.
Char. Nay, his account
Is writ forever current. His book of praise
Time closes not, but waits some language new
To enter it, and at his monument
Fame yet stands carving.
Mar. (Taking book and closing it) So! She ’s time enough!
We ’ve other work. (Gently) Is not the princess sad?
Char. I pray her heavy tears, weighing like stones,
Will hold her back from sea!
Mar. Hush, Charles! She comes!
(Enter Carlotta, richly dressed)
Car. Ah, cousins, trimming now your smiles to greet
The deputies?
Char. Nay, calling up our tears
To grace farewell to Miramar!
Car. No tears!
We ’ll think but of an empire and a crown,
Not Miramar!
(Enter Maximilian, dressed in the uniform of Vice-Admiral of the Austrian navy)
Max. An empire and a crown?
At last I am out-rivalled in your heart!
Car. Nay, nay, thou know’st, my lord, thou art my empire!
Grant me so much as now I look upon
And I ’m as rich as Jove with Saturn’s sceptre
New-swinging o’er the world!
Char. Then you risk much
For an unstable throne.
Car. Not risk!
Char. The men
Who ’ve governed Mexico, for the most part,
Have paid their heads for it.
Mar. O, Charles!
Char. ’T is true.
Car. Our safety is in the Emperor of France.
He ’s the strong angel in this noble scheme!
Char. Safety in him? Nay, madam, by my soul,
The lightest smile that breaks upon his lips,
As though a breeze but touched there, hides a plot
May hang our hearts with lead!
Car. How you misjudge him!
In Paris when he pledged his faith to us
His eyes more than his words assured his heart
Unto our cause. I trust him, yea, I trust him!
Char. There is a woman on the throne of France!
She is the Eve to this slow-blooded Adam,
Dutch-born Napoleon, and holdeth up
The globe as ’t were an apple for his hand.
She builds mock images of dreams that died
On Helena’s lone rock, and teaches him
They are not ghosts of dream but dream indeed!
Mexico, burning with gold and sunset’s fire,
Pouring the crimson of internal strife,
To her is but a jewel in crude bed
She ’d have you pick and polish for her crown!
Car. Had you but heard her sweet devoted voice
Pleading with us for sake of the true Church
To finish now this great emprise begun,
You would believe her holy.
Char. If she is holy,
And if Napoleon be true in this,
Then is he God’s perfection of a man,
And she earth’s sole and sainted paragon!
But wait—O wait and see ere you risk life
And honor!
Car. You’re wrong—so wrong—but this is strange.
O why are we not happy? (Turning to window and gazing out)
Char. (Following her) Because, my cousin,
This is not Miramar as we have known it.
The scholar’s home, the soldier’s fair retreat,
The noble heart’s sweet fane and altar spot,
But Miramar with great ambition’s storm
Rolling its thunders ’gainst her peaceful walls!
Max. But to live idly is never to be born.
Shall we sit here at ease when God has found
The work for us? He with his pontiff finger
Points to the sea—
Car. (Turning) Sweet Miramar!
If God points to the sea, why gave he this?
This heaven-spot, this nesting place of love,
Hung like a garland ’tween the sea and rocks!
Ah, dear my lord, some curse will follow us
Who can desert this peace-embalméd place
To seek a glory fairer but in name!
I dare not do it!
Max. (Taking her hands) ’T is you shall say, my wife.
If to stay here ’s your wish, that wish is mine,
Maybe I ’ve dreamed too much of deeds of good,
And visionary feats in that far land;
Then let it be your yea or nay, my love.
Car. O leave it not to me, for in a yea
My vanity will speak, and in a nay
My fear!
Max. A slander on these lips? A kiss
Were better! (Kisses her. Enter Marquis Corio)
Cor. The noble guests approach. Will ’t please
Your Highnesses assume your places?
Max. Yea,
Or nay, Carlotta?
Mar. O, they come! they come!
Char. (Hastily and earnestly)
Nay, if you love your lord! That is a land
Of murder, treason, carnage and revolt!
The very air cries out ‘go not! go not!’
E’en yon cloud-turbanned peak, that never moves
Whate’er the circling stars propound to vex
His silent wisdom, warns with forbidding nod!
O noblest cousin—
Car. (In agitation) An empire! Miramar!
(Maximilian takes place centre. A table in front of him covered with maps and papers. Carlotta by him, Count Charles and Lady Maria in their rear. Enter Archduke of Austria, and nobles, who take position at some distance from Maximilian on his right. Enter Belgian Minister, Abbot of Lacroma, Princess of Metternich, Princess Zichy, Countess Kollonitz, and others. They stand at distance to left of Maximilian. Enter the Imperial delegate, Senor Hurbet, and General Frassart, Napoleon’s Adjutant of the Field. The former takes place immediately at Maximilian’s right, the latter at left of Carlotta. Marquis Corio at door. Enter the Mexican deputies, Estrada, Berzabal, Negrete, Ruiz, and a dozen others. Estrada, as president of the deputation, makes low salute)
Max. Welcome, my lords, to Miramar!
Est. Hail, Prince,
And fairest princess! The grace and hope of morning
Be ever on your lives!
Car. Must noble senors,
We give you thanks and greeting.
Max. Your presence here,
My lords, would move our hearts although you brought
No crown to guerdon welcome.
Est. O, gracious prince,
Our tongues but feebly bear the mighty love
The land of Montezuma bade us lay
Low at your feet. Your starry virtues draw
Her prayers and hopes and holiest desires
Across the sea in humblest supplication.
We make no weary tale of our misfortunes;
They are so great the world is heavy with them,
And Mexico means but calamity
To every ear.
Max. My dear and honored lords,
The heart is granite and the veins are ice
That will not stir at your deep miseries.
Est. Ah, sir, this crown is heavy, but you will bear
The golden weight as ’t were the aureole
That seals the saint to God!
Max. But not without
Consent of every subject should I wear it.
Does Mexico send all her hearts with you?
Ruiz. (Spreading paper on table) Read here the proclamation now in force
In all our provinces.
Max. And this has been
By each assembly ratified?
Berzabal. Ay, prince!
It is a nation, not these dozen men,
That with a million voices prays to you!
Max. From childhood up I ’ve sought to obey my God,
But never dreamed that he would bless my life
With such high sanction as I read herein. (Lifting paper)
Forgive a tear, my lords.... But we must ask
That crownéd Europe give a sacred oath
To guarantee our empire’s permanence.
Archduke. Brother, I bring the word of Austria,
Whose prayers, whose arms, whose subjects’ blood are yours,
While she has blood or arms to give!
Belgian Minister. For Belgium
I speak—the princess’ true and royal father,
Whose little kingdom measures not his heart!
Senor Hurbet. And I, my lord, have here the signéd oath
Of Mightiest France, whose fifty-thousand men
Now guard the cradle of the new born peace
In Mexico! Read here what he will do.
Max. (Reads) Enough.... My lords, should I accept this crown,
’T would be with holiest expectation
To reign in love and peace, but your past struggles
Point to a term of danger and much risk
Ere our star shines above all factious spite.
Stood I alone I should not hesitate,
But here is one more dear than my own life,
Whom I must cherish more than my own life,
Within whose heart I must find out my answer;
And God be thanked her wisdom beams so true
Above the hesitations of my mind
That I can love her yea or nay as ’t were
By Heaven spoke!
Est. Then to your mercy, princess,
We now commit our hope.
Car. Most worthy lords,
I am so proud that I would wear a crown,
So pitying I would weep my heart away
For your sad country, and so vain I think
The lord that married me might lead you from
Rebellion’s night to civil-kissing hours;
But yet a woman bonded unto love,
Not my own mistress. The life bound up with mine
Is dearer than the peace of any state,
And looking deep into your country’s heart
I read some cruel marks of history
That teach me fear for any precious thing
Consigned unto its love.
Est. If ever souls
Lay bare to human eyes, read now in ours
The loyalty which you will find in every subject!
Ruiz. Be merciful! Earth aches through her rock-ribs
With our old woes, and it is you may heal them!
Ber. Pity will teach thee soon to love our land!
Car. My lords, already I love Mexico,
And would forego the peace of Miramar,—
All happy days that from the future lean
To meet my smiles, as trifles whose light thought
Shames this great hour; but when in dream I see
My lord beset by foes in foreign land,
The help he needs beyond a three-months’ sea,
My princess pride flags to a peasant fear
For one dear life!
Est. Wrong not yourself, your lord,
And Mexico, O gentlest lady—
Car. Nay—
Est. Say yea, and our expectant land will feel
The thrill of that affirmative across
The glad Atlantic! Yea—and France, whose name
Is in our hearts as God’s, will bless thy tongue!
Say yea, and noble England, watchful Spain,
Who with great France began the holy work
Of blessed liberation will applaud
With happy echoes to the guardian skies!
Say yea, and the white spirit of the Church
Will take ’neath her soft wings our blood-drenched land,
That waits but for that word to hail thy lord
Regenerator, king!
Car. My lords, my lords,
We are but human! Mayhap we will not keep
The love that we have won!
Senor Hur. Fear not, O princess!
Behind your throne, with unretreating sword,
Will stand the first great power of all the world!
Thus speak I for the emperor of France!
Princess Metternich. (Advancing) I for the empress! Eugenie bade me speak
Her heart out here, and hail thee sister empress!
To ask when your young empire blooms above
The lily of old France, and lures the East
To pour her golden heart into your port,
And ocean blossoms with your argosies,
You ’ll still remember that she loved you when
You were but princess and no farther ruled
Then stretch the gardens of small Miramar!
Car. O generous Eugenie! But the fear—
Abbot of Lacroma. To speak of fear in this is to doubt God!
He does not bless in vain a noble prince
With such rare qualities as crown the mind
Of Maximilian! ’T is for some purpose rare
He rounds such excellence with highest birth
And puts a sword of power in his hand!
From over seas unto your very feet
A nation comes to choose from all the world
One made by Heaven to be its sovereign lord,
Cool hearts of passion in his amity,
Make bitter eyes forget their ancient hate,
And proudest knees bow with old enemies
In worship of his star beneficent!
There pale and crushéd Peace
Shall take the color of the living rose,
Hearing the voice of his protecting love
That comes to lift her beauty from the dust
And on that ground volcanic nobly build
Her temple indestructible!
There shall his kingly mind find outward means
To write sublimity upon the world,
And like old Egypt speak in pyramids
To nations unbegot in dream of Time!
And can you shock the hour with hesitation?
Ask all the waiting world,—ay, even God,
To pause and count the heart-beats of a woman?
Car. (Devoutly, with uplifted hands and eyes)
Forgive me, Heaven, that I doubted thee!
(Takes Maximilian’s hands, turns with great dignity to the deputies, and speaks solemnly)
Senors, we ’ll wear the crown of Mexico.
(Silence. The abbot of Lacroma advances; Carlotta and Maximilian drop to their knees as he extends his arms above them in blessing)
Scene II: A camp in the mountains of Mexico. Night. Aseffa preparing food by a fire. She goes aside, listens, and returns.
Asef. O Mexico, thou traitress unto love,
Wilt trample every heart that’s true to thee?
(Listens. Enter Miguel and Lerdo, very ragged and gaunt) Miguel! Lerdo! Rafael not come? Where did you leave him?
Lerdo. Nowhere, Senora.
Asef. Oh!
Mig. Don’t flutter, little bird. We mean that he left us. He set off as fresh as the morning to make the circuit of another mountain while we could barely creep up to camp.
Asef. You are hungry! I ’ll give you Rafael’s supper!
Ler. Hungry? No! I ’ve had two biscuits since yesterday, and sixty miles is n’t far to go on that.
Mig. And as much good air and water as a soldier need want!
Asef. Here! Take it. ’T is good. Indeed it is!
Mig. Smoking meat! Ha! Who brought it? Has the Holy Virgin been in camp?
Asef. No, but I ’ve been down to the valley.
Ler. You?
Asef. Yes,—and I ’ve a little gold left, too!
(Showing purse)
Mig. You paid five pesos for that dish!
Asef. A good guesser would double the price.
Mig. And for Rafael’s supper! No, I can go two more days yet. (Puts food aside)
Asef. But you shall not. Come, eat! I ’ll feed you then, and you don’t want Juarez’ soldiers to be turned into babies, do you?
Mig. I ’ll yield! In fact, there ’s an orator within that speaks with a most convincing pinch. (They eat)
Asef. (Watching) Poor fellows! They ’ll not leave him a mouthful!
Ler. Where is the general?
Asef. (Pointing up the hill) Asleep. Have you news?
Ler. None to bring good dreams. Let him sleep.
Mig. Lord, a meal a day like this and I could drive the whole French army into the sea! (Rising) Now if these rags could be turned back to their first fortunes, I ’d be Don Miguel de Tejada again! You would n’t think that these tags and tatters had waltzed with the president’s niece at the capital, would you now?
Asef. You must let me mend your clothes as I do Rafael’s.
Mig. Faith, Senora, you would have to begin too many months back. No, I ’ll hang out my banners as a knight of liberty should, and be Don Miguel de Tejada still. Asleep, my Lerdo? A good example, too. (Lies down) Good-night, Senora the Blessed!
Asef. Good-night, Don Miguel de Tejada! (The soldiers sleep. She waits and listens. Runs aside and looks down the valley)
Asef. Rafael! (Steps approach. Enter Rafael)
Raf. (Embracing her) Here ’s Heaven for the weary!
Asef. So tired? And I have nothing for you! (Looks toward soldiers) They were so hungry.
Raf. They’re welcome to it. (Kissing her) Here is my banquet,—my feast of beauty and my wine of love!
(Staggers to a rock and sits feebly)
Asef. Oh! You ’ve been so far!—too far!
Raf. We rode all day, but made no terms for food. The people are afraid. Whoever gives us bread forfeits his life and home.
Asef. I bought some meat of a poor woman to-day. She needed the money.
Raf. And if the Imperials find her out they ’ll murder her and set her hut in flames!
Asef. Oh! What shall we do?
Raf. We are an army. We ’ll do as armies do. Take food where we can find it.
Raf. Yes, love, we ’ll play the robber to fill the mouth of Liberty,—she ’s fed too long on thistles.
Asef. She ’s a stern mistress, Rafael.
Raf. But sweeter, love,
Her harshest frown that summer smiles of kings!
O, I reproach her not, even when I see
My dearest friends lie dying in her name!
A bed of stones is soft enough for me
If she but rock to sleep,—a crust to-day,
To-morrow none, and at her board I ’m fed.
But when I look on you, my traitor blood
Flies from her service. Oh, to see these hands
That plucked no beauty ruder than the rose,
So meanly laboring in the basest needs!
Your gentle body resting on cold earth,
Glad of a blanket ’tween you and the sod,
While in your bed the foreign robber sleeps!
This shakes my loyalty till I could hate
The fair, unspotted cause my sword is drawn in!
Asef. Stop, Rafael! O thank God these hands have known
That blessed of all fortunes,—to toil for love!
These eyes that sought for but a face more fair,
A flower more sweet, have found the stars that rise
Where Truth and Courage wander in the night!
In southern vales maybe we ’ll hear again
The morning birds sing at our bowered windows,
But we will not forget the nobler song
Now borne by winds about these mountain peaks,—
The song of man made free!
Raf. We ’ll not forget.
But will that sweet day come? Tell me, Aseffa,
You who are half a sibyl,—shall we go down
That valley to our home?
Asef. ’T is not to gain
Our father’s halls, and sit ’neath fig and vine,
We hide and starve and stagger in these hills,
But to keep noble the last hour of life,
That Death who gathers it may read thereon
The seal immortal of approving God.