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The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda cover

The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda

Chapter 66: SCENE I
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About This Book

Three historical dramas stage intense collisions between private desire and public power, tracing jealousies, betrayals, and moral dilemmas across courtrooms, councils, and street scenes. The plays combine lyrical monologue with vivid theatrical setpieces to create suspense through shifting loyalties and escalating consequences. Recurring concerns include the burdens of authority, the pursuit and cost of love, and the conflict between conscience and political expediency. Dramatic imagery and rhetorical force highlight hypocrisy, sacrifice, and the precariousness of status, while the structure alternates intimate psychological portraits with broader social spectacle.

The Cardinal's my friend! Who loves me must
Love him!

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

Sire!

THE KING.

Silence! He's my second self.

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

Sire!

THE KING.

Bring no more such griefs to trouble me!

[Showing his hair, which is beginning to turn gray.

Petitioners like you make these gray hairs!

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

An old man, sire; a woman, sire, who weeps!
A word from you is life or death for us!

THE KING.

What do you ask?

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

Pardon for my Gaspard!

MARION.

Pardon for Didier!

THE KING.

Pardons of a king
Are often thefts from justice!

MARION.

Oh, no, sire!
Since God himself is merciful, you need
Not fear! Have pity! Two young, thoughtless men,
Pushed by this duel o'er a precipice
To die! Good God! to die upon the gallows!
You will have pity, won't you? I don't know
How people talk to kings—I'm but a woman;
To weep so much perhaps is wrong. But oh,
A monster is that cardinal of yours.
Why does he hate them? They did naught to him.
He never saw my Didier. All who do
Must love him! They're so young—these two! To die
For just a duel! Think about their mothers.
Oh, it is horrible! You will not do it, sire!
We women cannot talk as well as men.
We've only cries and tears and knees, which bend
And totter as kings turn their eyes on us.
They were in fault, of course! But if they broke
Your law, you can forgive it! What is youth?
Young people are so heedless! For a look,
A word, a trifle, anything or nothing,
They always lose their heads like that! Such things
Are happening every day. Each noble, here,
He knows it. Ask them, sire! Is it not true,
My lords? Oh, frightful hour of agony!
To know with one word you can save two lives!
I'd love you all my life, sire, if you would
Have mercy—mercy, God! If I knew how,
I'd talk so that you'd have to say that word.
You'd pardon them; you'd say, "I must console
That woman, for her Didier is her soul."
I suffocate, sire. Pity, pity me!

THE KING.

Who is this woman?

MARION.

She's a sister, sire,
Who trembles at your feet. You owe something
Unto your people!

THE KING.

Yes! I owe myself
To them, and dueling does grievous harm.

MARION.

You should have pity!

THE KING.

And obedience, too!

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

Two boys of twenty years! Think of it well!
Their years together are but half of mine!

MARION.

Your Majesty, you have a mother, wife,
A son—some one at least who's dear to you!
A brother? Then have pity for a sister!

THE KING.

No, I have not a brother! [Reflects a moment.
Yes, Monsieur!

[Perceiving the escort of Marquis de Nangis.

Well, my lord marquis, what is this brigade?
Are we besieged, or off to the Crusades?
To bring your guards thus boldly in my sight,
Are you a duke and peer?

MARQUIS DE NANGIS.

I'm better, sire,
Than any duke and peer, created for mere show!
I'm Breton baron of four baronies.

DUKE DE BELLEGARDE (aside).

His pride is great, and here, unfortunate!

THE KING.

Good! To your manors carry back your rights,
And leave us ours within our own domain.
We are justiciary!

MARQUIS DE NANGIS (shuddering).

Sire, reflect!
Think of their age, their expiated fault!

[Falling on his knees.

The pride of an old man, who, prostrate, kneels!
Have mercy!

[The King makes an abrupt sign of anger and refusal.

I was comrade to Henry!
Your father and our father! I was there
When he—that monster—struck the fatal blow.
'Til night I watched beside my royal dead:
It was my duty. I have seen my father
And my six brothers fall 'neath rival factions;
I have lost the wife who loved me. Now
The old man standing here is like a victim
Whom a hard executioner, for sport,
Has bound unto the wheel the whole long day.
My master, God has broken every limb
With His great iron rod! 'Tis night-time now,
And I've received the final blow! Farewell,
My king! God keep you!

[He makes a profound obeisance, and exits. Marion lifts herself with difficulty, and, staggering, falls on the threshold of the gilt door of The King's private room.

THE KING (to Duke de Bellegarde, wiping his eyes and watching the retreating figure of Marquis de Nangis).

A sad interview!
Ah, not to weaken, kings must watch themselves!
To do right is not easy. I was touched.

[Reflects for a moment, then interrupts himself suddenly.

No pardoning to-day, for yesterday
I sinned too much!

[Approaching Duke de Bellegarde.

Before he came, my lord,
You said bold things, which may be bad for you
When I report to my lord cardinal
The conversation we have had. I'm sorry
For you, Duke. In the future, have more care!
I slept so wretchedly, my poor Bellegarde.

[With a gesture dismissing Courtiers and Guards.

Pray leave us, gentlemen!
[To L'Angely.] Stay, you!

[All go out except Marion, whom The King does not see. Duke de Bellegarde sees her crouching on the threshold of the door and goes to her.

DUKE DE BELLEGARDE (low to Marion).

My child,
You can't remain here, crouching by this door;
What are you doing like a statue there?
Get up and go away!

MARION.

I'm waiting here
For them to kill me!

L'ANGELY (low to Duke de Bellegarde).

Leave her there, my lord!
[Low to Marion.] Remain!

[He returns to The King, who is seated in the great armchair and is in a profound reverie.

SCENE VIII

The King, L'Angely

THE KING (sighing deeply).

Ah! L'Angely, my heart is sick.
'Tis full of bitterness. I cannot smile.
You, only, have the power to cheer me. Come!
You stand in no awe of my majesty.
Come, throw a glint of pleasure in my soul.

[A pause.

L'ANGELY.

Life is a bitter thing, your Majesty.

THE KING.

Alas!

L'ANGELY.

Man is a breath ephemeral!

THE KING.

A breath, and nothing more!

L'ANGELY.

Unfortunate
Is any one who is both man and king.
Is it not true?

THE KING.

A double burden—yes.

L'ANGELY.

And better far than life, sire, is the tomb,
If but its gloom is deep enough!

THE KING.

I've thought
That always!

L'ANGELY.

To be dead or unborn is
The only happiness. Yes, man's condemned!

THE KING.

You give me pleasure when you talk like this!

[A silence.

L'ANGELY.

Once in the tomb, think you one e'er gets out?

THE KING (whose sadness has increased with the Fool's words).

We'll know that later. I wish I were there!

[Silence.

Fool, I'm unhappy! Do you comprehend?

L'ANGELY.

I see it in your face so thin and worn,
And in your mourning—

THE KING.

Ah, why should I laugh?
Your tricks are lost on me! What use is life
To you? The fine profession! Jester to the King!
Bell out of tune, a jumping-jack to play with,
Whose half-cracked laugh is but a poor grimace!
What is there in the world for you, poor toy?
Why do you live?

L'ANGELY.

For curiosity.
But you—why should you live? I pity you!
I'd sooner be a woman than a king
Like you. I'm but a jumping-jack whose string
You hold; but underneath your royal coat
There's hid a tauter string, a strong arm holds.
Better a jumping-jack in a king's hands
Than in a priest's, my sire.

[Silence.

THE KING (thinking, growing more and more sad).

You speak the truth,
Although you laugh. He is a fearful man!
Has Satan made himself a cardinal?
What if 'twere Satan who possessed my soul!
What say you?

L'ANGELY.

I have often had that thought
Myself!

THE KING.

We must not speak thus. 'Tis a sin!
Behold, how dire misfortune follows me!
I had some Spanish cormorants. I come
To this place—not a drop of water here
For fishing! In the country! Not a pond
In this accursed Chambord large enough
To drown a flesh-worm! When I wish to hunt—
The sea! And when I wish to fish—the fields!
Am I unfortunate enough?

L'ANGELY.

Your life
Is full of woe.

THE KING.

How will you comfort me?

L'ANGELY.

Another grief! You hold in high esteem,
And justly too, the art of training hawks
For hunting partridges. A good huntsman—
You're one—ought to respect the falconer.

THE KING.

The falconer! A god!

L'ANGELY.

Well! there are two
Who are at point of death!

THE KING.

Two falconers?

L'ANGELY.

Yes!

THE KING.

Who are they?

L'ANGELY.

Two famous ones!

THE KING.

But who?

L'ANGELY.

Those two young men whose lives were begged of you!

THE KING.

Gaspard and Didier?

L'ANGELY.

Yes; they are the last.

THE KING.

What a calamity! Two falconers!
Now that the art is very nearly lost.
Unhappy duel! When I'm dead, this art
Will go from earth, as all things go at last!
Why did they fight this duel?

L'ANGELY.

One declared
That hawks upon the wing were not as swift
As falcons.

THE KING.

He was wrong. But yet that seems
Scarcely a hanging matter— [Silence.
And my right
Of pardon is inviolable—though
I am too lenient, says the Cardinal! [Silence.
[To L'Angely.] The Cardinal desires their death?

L'ANGELY.

He does!

THE KING (after pausing and reflecting).

Then they shall die!

L'ANGELY.

They shall!

THE KING.

Poor falconry!

L'ANGELY (going to window).

Sire, look!

THE KING (turns around suddenly).

At what?

L'ANGELY.

Just look, I beg of you!

THE KING (rising and going to the window).

What is it?

L'ANGELY (indicating something outside).

They have changed the sentinel!

THE KING.

Well, is that all?

L'ANGELY.

Who is that fellow with
The yellow lace?

THE KING.

No one—the corporal!

L'ANGELY.

He puts a new man there. What says he, low?

THE KING.

The password! Fool! What are you driving at?

L'ANGELY.

At this: Kings act the part of sentinels.
Instead of pikes, a scepter they must bear.
When they have strutted 'round their little day,
Death comes—the corporal of kings—and puts
Another scepter-bearer in their place,
Speaking the password which God sends, and which
Is clemency.

THE KING.

No, it is justice. Ah,
Two falconers! It is a frightful loss!
Still, they must die.

L'ANGELY.

As you must die, and I.
Or big or little, death has appetite
For all. But though they've not much room,
The dead sleep well. The Cardinal annoys
And wearies you. Wait, sire! A day, a month,
A year; when we have played as long as needful—
I, my own part of fool; you, king; and he,
The master—we will go to sleep. No matter
How proud or great we are, no one shall have
More than six feet of territory there.
Look! how they bear his lordly litter now!

THE KING.

Yes, life is dark; the tomb alone is bright.
If you were not at hand to cheer me up—

L'ANGELY.

Alas! I came to-day to say farewell.

THE KING.

What's that?

L'ANGELY.

I leave you!

THE KING.

You're a crazy fool!
Death, only, frees from royal service.

L'ANGELY.

Well,
I am about to die!

THE KING.

Have you gone mad?

L'ANGELY.

You have condemned me—you, the King of France!

THE KING.

If you are joking, fool, explain yourself.

L'ANGELY.

I shared the duel of those two young men—
At least my sword did, sire, if I did not.
I here surrender it.

[Draws his sword and, kneeling, presents it to The King.

THE KING (takes it and examines it).

Indeed, a sword!
Where does it come from, friend?

L'ANGELY.

We're noble, sire!
The guilty are not pardoned. I am one.

THE KING (somber and stern).

Good night, then! Let me kiss your neck, poor fool,
Before they cut it off. [Embraces L'Angely.

L'ANGELY (aside).

He's in dead earnest!

THE KING (after a pause).

For never does a worthy king oppose
The course of justice. But you claim too much,
Lord Cardinal—two falconers and my fool!
All for one duel!

[Greatly agitated, he walks up and down with his hand on his forehead. Then he turns to L'Angely, who is most anxious.

Go! console yourself!
Life is but bitterness, the tomb means rest.
Man is a breath ephemeral.

L'ANGELY (aside).

The devil!

[The King continues to pace the floor and appears violently agitated.

THE KING.

And so, you think you'll have to hang, poor fool!

L'ANGELY (aside).

He means it! God! I feel cold perspiration
Starting upon my brow.
[Aloud.] Unless a word
From you—

THE KING.

Whom shall I have to make me laugh?
If you should rise from out the tomb, come back
And tell me all about it. 'Tis a chance!

L'ANGELY.

The errand is a pleasant one!

[The King continues to walk rapidly, speaking to L'Angely now and then.

THE KING.

What triumph
For my lord cardinal—my fool!

[Folding his arms.

Think you
I could be master if I wished to be?

L'ANGELY.

Montaigne would say, "Who knows?" And Rabelais,
"Perhaps."

THE KING (with gesture of determination).

Give me a parchment, fool.

[L'Angely eagerly hands a parchment which he finds on the table near the writing-desk. The King hastily writes a few words, then gives the parchment back to L'Angely.

Behold!
I pardon all.

L'ANGELY.

All three?

THE KING.

Yes.

L'ANGELY (running to Marion).

Come, madame,
Come, kneel, and thank the King.

MARION (falling on her knees).

We have the pardon?

L'ANGELY.

Yes! It was I—

MARION.

Whose knees must I embrace—
His Majesty's or yours?

THE KING (astonished, examining Marion: aside).

What does this mean?
Is this a trap?

L'ANGELY (giving parchment to Marion).

Here is the pardon. Take it!

[Marion kisses it, and puts it in her bosom.

THE KING (aside).

Have I been duped?
[To Marion.] One instant! Give it back!

MARION.

Good God!

[To The King, with courage, touching her breast.

Come here and take it, and tear out
My heart as well!

[The King stops and steps backward, much embarrassed.

L'ANGELY (low to Marion).

Good! Keep it, and be firm!
His Majesty won't take it, there!

THE KING (to Marion).

Give it
To me!

MARION.

Take it, my sire!

THE KING (casting down his eyes).

Who is this siren?

L'ANGELY (low to Marion).

He wouldn't touch the corset of the Queen!

THE KING (after a moment's hesitation, dismisses Marion with a gesture without looking at her).

Well, go!

MARION (bowing profoundly to The King).

I'll fly to save the prisoners! [Exits.

L'ANGELY (to The King).

She's sister to Didier, the falconer.

THE KING.

She can be what she will. It's very strange,
The way she made me drop my eyes! Made me,
A man— [Silence.
Fool, you have played a trick on me!
I'll have to pardon you a second time.

L'ANGELY.

Yes, do it! Every time they grant a pardon,
Kings lift a dreary weight from off their hearts.

THE KING.

You speak the truth. I always suffer when
La Grève holds court. Nangis was right: the dead
Serve nobody. To fill Montfaucon
I make a desert of the Louvre!

[Walking rapidly.

'Tis treason
To strike my right of pardon out, before
My face. What can I do? Disarmed, dethroned,
And fallen: in this man absorbed, as in
A sepulcher! His cloak becomes my shroud:
My people mourn for me as for the dead.
I am resolved: those two boys shall not die!
The joy of living is a heavenly gift.

[After reflection.

God, who knows where we go, can ope the tomb;
A king cannot. Back to their families
I give them; that old man, that fair young girl,
Will bless me. It is said: I've signed it—I,
The King. The Cardinal will be furious,
But it will please Bellegarde.

L'ANGELY.

One can, sometimes,
Be kingly by mistake.

ACT V

THE CARDINAL

Scene.Beaugency. The tower of Beaugency. A courtyard; the tower in the background, all around a high wall. To the left, a tall arched door; to the right, a small rounded door in the wall; near the door a stone table and stone bench

SCENE I

Some Workmen. They are pulling down a corner of the back wall on the left. The demolition is almost completed

FIRST WORKMAN (working with his pickax).

It's very hard!

SECOND WORKMAN (working).

Deuce take this heavy wall we're pulling down!

THIRD WORKMAN (working).

Saw you the scaffold, Peter?

FIRST WORKMAN.

Yes, I did.

[He goes to the large door and measures it.

The door is narrow; never will the litter
Of the Lord Cardinal go through it.

THIRD WORKMAN.

Bah!
Is it a house?

FIRST WORKMAN (with affirmative gesture).

With great long curtains. Yes.
It takes some four and twenty men on foot
To carry it.

SECOND WORKMAN.

I saw the great machine,
One night when it was very dark. It looked
Just like Leviathan in shadow-land.

THIRD WORKMAN.

What does he come here with his sergeants for?

FIRST WORKMAN.

To see the execution of those two young men.
He's sick. He needs to be amused.

SECOND WORKMAN.

To work!

[They resume work; the wall is about torn down.

Saw you the scaffold, all in black? That comes
Of being noble!

FIRST WORKMAN.

They have everything.

SECOND WORKMAN.

I wonder
If they would build a black scaffold for us.

FIRST WORKMAN.

What have those young men done that they should die?
Hein? Do you understand, Maurice?

THIRD WORKMAN.

I don't.
It's justice.

[They continue their work. Laffemas enters; The Workmen are silent. He comes from the back as though he were coming from an inside court of the prison; stops beside The Workmen, appears to examine the breach, and gives them some directions. When the space is opened, he orders them to hang black cloth across it, which covers it entirely; then he dismisses them. At almost the same moment Marion appears, dressed in white, and veiled; she enters through the great door, crosses the court rapidly, and runs to the grating of the small door, at which she knocks. Laffemas follows slowly in the same direction. The grating is opened; The Turnkey appears.

SCENE II

Marion, Laffemas

MARION (showing a parchment to The Turnkey).

Order of the King!

THE TURNKEY.

You can't
Enter, madame.

MARION.

What!

LAFFEMAS (presenting a paper to The Turnkey).

Signed, the Cardinal!

THE TURNKEY.

Enter.

[When about to enter, Laffemas turns, looks at Marion a moment, then approaches her. The Turnkey shuts the door.

LAFFEMAS (to Marion).

You here? This questionable place!

MARION.

I am. [Triumphantly showing the parchment.
I have the pardon!

LAFFEMAS (showing his).

Yes? I have
The revocation!

MARION (with a cry of horror).

Mine was yesterday—
The morning!

LAFFEMAS.

Mine, last night!

MARION (with hands over her eyes).

My God! No hope!

LAFFEMAS.

Hope is a flash of lightning which deceives.
The clemency of kings is a frail thing;
It comes with lagging steps and goes with wings.

MARION.

The King was moved with pity for their fate!

LAFFEMAS.

What can the King against the Cardinal?

MARION.

Oh, Didier, our last hope's extinguished now!

LAFFEMAS (low).

Not—not the last!

MARION.

Just Heaven!

LAFFEMAS (drawing near to her).

There is here
A man whom one short word from you could make
Happier than any king, and mightier too!

MARION.