LINENOTES:
Before 1
ACT III.
Scene 1.—A Hall of armory, with an altar at the back of the stage.
Soft music from an instrument of glass or steel. Valdez, Ordonio, and
Alvar in a Sorcerer's robe, are discovered.
Ord. This was too melancholy, father.
|
| |
Val. Nay,
My Alvar lov'd sad music from a child.
Once he was lost; and after weary search
We found him in an open place in [of Osor.] the wood,
To which spot he had followed a blind boy,
Who breath'd into a pipe of sycamore
Some strangely-moving notes: and these, he said,
Were taught him in a dream. Him we first saw
Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank;
And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep,
His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleas'd me
To mark how he had fasten'd round the pipe |
| A silver toy his |
|
grandmother had Osor.
grandam had late given him. |
| Methinks I see him now as he then look'd— |
|
|
His infant dress was grown too short for him, Osor.
Even so!—He had outgrown his infant dress, |
| Yet still he wore it. |
| |
Alv. (aside). My tears must not flow!
I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father! |
Enter Teresa and attendants.
Remorse.
[These lines with the variants as noted above are included in Osorio,
Act III, lines 58-74.]
After 3 stage-direction om. Remorse.
Between 3 and 4
| Ordonio. Believe you then no preternatural influence? |
|
|
Believe you not that spirits throng around us?
I thought you held that spirits throng'd around us? |
Corr. in MS. III.
Ter. Say rather that I have imagined it
A possible thing; and it has sooth'd my soul
As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me
To traffic with the black and frenzied hope,
That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard.
Remorse.
[5] employments] employment Remorse.
[9] things] guilt Remorse.
[10] Stand ye from the altar Remorse.
After 10 [Here, &c. . . . scene Remorse.
[13] spells] spell Remorse.
[21] unstun'd] unstunn'd Remorse.
[29] build up] upbuild Remorse.
[37] [Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words,
'Hear, sweet Spirit.' Remorse.
After 43 Song.—Behind the scenes, &c. Remorse.
[50] chanters] chaunter Remorse.
[58-74] are printed as ll. 1-17, Act III, Sc. i Remorse.
[70-72]
A silver toy his grandam had late given him,
Methinks I see him now as he then look'd—
Even so!—He had outgrown his infant dress,
Remorse, Act III, ll. 13-15.
[79] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[87] Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[88-9]
But what if he had a brother,
Who had lived even so
Remorse.
[91-2]
Valdez. Idly prating man!
Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother
Stands here before thee—a father's blessing on him!
He is most virtuous.
Remorse.
[96] excellently] exquisitely Remorse.
Between 104 and 105
[Music again.
Teresa. 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures!
But whatso'er it mean, I dare no longer
Be present at these lawless mysteries,
This dark provoking of the hidden Powers!
Already I affront—if not high Heaven—
Yet Alvar's memory!—Hark! I make appeal
Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence
To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek
That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens,
Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire.
Alv. (to Teresa).
O full of faith and guileless love, thy spirit
Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt
Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent!
[Exeunt Teresa and Attendant. Music as before.
Remorse.
[106] an eye of flesh] a human eye Remorse.
[108] come quick] O come Remorse.
[109] and if he lives] but if he live Remorse.
After 110 The whole music clashes into a Chorus
Remorse.
[111] demon] demons Remorse.
113 foll. For the rest of Act III, as published in
Remorse, vide post pp. 851-8. According to the Editor of Osorio as
first published in 1873, 'The rest of this Act is entirely different in
the published Remorse.' This statement needs qualification. The
remainder of Act III of Osorio was rewritten, much was omitted, much
added, and the 'dramatic ordonnance' of this part of the play was
remodelled on a different plan, but the following lines 174-82, 195-202,
210-31 and 246-7 were included, with certain alterations, in Remorse.
See Remorse, Act III, Scene II, ll. 64-71, 79-87, 94-114 and 185-6.
[140-3] And . . . come MS. III erased.
After 146
Doth swim with love and pity—Well Ordonio
O my foreboding Spirit, he suborn'd thee,
And thou didst spare his life
Corr. in MS. III.
[299] interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
ACT THE FOURTH
Scene the First.—A cavern, dark except where a gleam of moonlight is
seen on one side of the further end of it, supposed to be cast on it
from a cranny [crevice Remorse] in a part of the cavern out of
sight.
[Ferdinand alone, an extinguished torch in his hand.
Ferdinand. Drip! drip! drip! drip!—in such a place as this
It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip!
I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch.
Faith 'twas a moving letter—very moving!
His life in danger—no place safe but this. 5
'Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude!
And yet—but no! there can't be such a villain.
It cannot be!
Thanks to that little cranny
[563]
Which lets the moonlight in! I'll go and sit by it.
To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10
Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep,
'Twere better than this dreary noise of water-drops!
[He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of moonlight, [and
returns. Remorse] returns after a minute's elapse in an ecstasy of
fear.
A hellish pit! O God—'tis like my night-mair!
I was just in!—and those damn'd fingers of ice
Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15
[Ferdinand stands [motionless MS. III erased] staring at another
recess in the cavern. In the mean time Osorio enters with a torch and
hollas to him [halloes to Isidore Remorse].
Ferdinand. I swear, I saw a something moving there!
The moonshine came and went, like a flash of lightning.
I swear, I saw it move!
[Osorio goes into the recess, then returns, and with great scorn.
Osorio. A jutting clay-stone
Drips on the long lank weed that grows beneath;
[564]
And the weed nods and drips.
Ferdinand (forcing a faint laugh). A joke to laugh at! 20
It was not that which frighten'd me, my lord!
Osorio. What frighten'd you?
Ferdinand. You see that little cranny?
But first permit me,
[Lights his torch at Osorio's, and while lighting it.
(A lighted torch in the hand
Is no unpleasant object here—one's breath
Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25
As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)[564:1]
You see that cranny there?
Osorio. Well, what of that?
Ferdinand. I walk'd up to it, meaning to sit there.
[565]
When I had reach'd it within twenty paces——
[Ferdinand starts as if he felt the terror over again.
Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30
[Osorio goes and returns.
Osorio. It must have shot some pleasant feelings thro' you?
Ferdinand. If every atom of a dead man's flesh
Should move, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever—'twas just so!
Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35
Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald—
Osorio (interrupting him). Why, Ferdinand! I blush for thy cowardice.
It would have startled any man, I grant thee.
But such a panic.
Ferdinand. When a boy, my lord!
I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40
Push'd in huge stones and heard them thump and rattle
Against its horrid sides; and hung my head
Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments
Sunk, with faint crash, in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45
A living thing came near; unless, perchance,
Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould,
Close at its edge.
Osorio. Art thou more coward now?
Ferdinand. Call him that fears his fellow-men a coward.
I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50
It were too bad a prison-house for goblins.
Besides (you'll laugh, my lord!) but true it is,
My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted[565:1]
[566]
By what had pass'd between us in the morning.
I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55
And doz'd and started, doz'd again and started.
I do entreat your lordship to believe me,
In my last dream——
Osorio. Well?
Ferdinand. I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Waked me. She heard my heart beat!
Osorio. Strange enough! 60
Had you been here before?
Ferdinand. Never, my lord!
But my eyes do not see it now more clearly
Than in my dream I saw that very chasm.
[Osorio stands in a deep study—then, after a pause.
Osorio. There is no reason why it should be so.
And yet it is.
Ferdinand. What is, my lord?
Osorio. Unpleasant 65
To kill a man!
Ferdinand. Except in self-defence.
[567]Osorio. Why that's my case: and yet 'tis still unpleasant.
At least I find it so! But you, perhaps,
Have stronger nerves?
Ferdinand. Something doth trouble you.
How can I serve you? By the life you gave me, 70
By all that makes that life of value to me,
My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you,
Name it, and I will toil to do the thing,
If it be innocent! But this, my lord!
Is not a place where you could perpetrate, 75
No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness
(When ten yards off, we know, 'tis chearful moonlight)
Collects the guilt and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.
Osorio. Thyself be judge.
[Osorio walks round the cavern—then looking round it.
One of our family knew this place well. 80
Ferdinand. Who? when? my lord.
Osorio. What boots it who or when?
Hang up the torch. I'll tell his tale to thee.
[They hang [up] their torches in some shelf of [on some ridge in
Remorse] the cavern.
Osorio. He was a man different from other men,
And he despised them, yet revered himself.[567:1]
Ferdinand. What? he was mad?
Osorio. All men seem'd mad to him, 85
[568]
Their actions noisome folly, and their talk—
A goose's gabble was more musical.
Nature had made him for some other planet,
And press'd his soul into a human shape
By accident or malice. In this world 90
He found no fit companion!
Ferdinand. Ah, poor wretch!
Madmen are mostly proud.
Osorio. He walk'd alone,
And phantasies, unsought for, troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities, and with these shadows 95
His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happen'd,
A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest:
To this in moody murmur, and low voice,
He yielded utterance as some talk in sleep.
The man who heard him——
Why didst thou look round? 100
Ferdinand. I have a prattler three years old, my lord!
In truth he is my darling. As I went
From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep—
But I am talking idly—pray go on!
And what did this man?
Osorio. With his human hand 105
He gave a being and reality
To that wild fancy of a possible thing.
Well it was done. [Then very wildly.
Why babblest thou of guilt?
The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off.
And he, whose tale I tell thee—dost thou listen? 110
Ferdinand. I would, my lord, you were by my fireside!
I'd listen to you with an eager eye,
Tho' you began this cloudy tale at midnight.
But I do listen—pray proceed, my lord!
Osorio. Where was I?
Ferdinand. He of whom you tell the tale— 115
Osorio. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn
[569]
Tamed himself down to living purposes,
The occupations and the semblances
Of ordinary men—and such he seem'd.
But that some over-ready agent—he—— 120
Ferdinand. Ah! what of him, my lord?
Osorio. He proved a villain;
Betray'd the mystery to a brother villain;
And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot
To hunt him down to infamy and death
To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125
And stain the honour of an orphan lady
With barbarous mixture and unnatural union.
What did the Velez? I am proud of the name,
Since he dared do it.
[Osorio grasps his sword and turns off from Ferdinand, then, after a
pause, returns.
Osorio. Our links burn dimly.
Ferdinand. A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130
Tell what he did.
Osorio (fiercely). That which his wisdom prompted.
He made the traitor meet him in this cavern,
And here he kill'd the traitor.
Ferdinand. No!—the fool.
He had not wit enough to be a traitor.
Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135
That he, who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie
To murder his own brother, would not scruple
To murder thee, if e'er his guilt grew jealous
And he could steal upon thee in the dark!
Osorio. Thou would'st not then have come, if——
Ferdinand. O yes, my lord! 140
I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward!
[Ferdinand throws off his robe, shows himself armed, and draws his
sword.
Osorio. Now this is excellent, and warms the blood!
My heart was drawing back, drawing me back
[570]
With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave,
Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145
Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.
Ferdinand. And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.
[They fight. Osorio disarms Ferdinand, and in disarming him, throws his
sword up that recess, opposite to which they were standing.
Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio). Still I can strangle thee!
Osorio. Nay, fool! stand off.
I'll kill thee—but not so! Go fetch thy sword.
[Ferdinand hurries into the recess with his torch. Osorio follows him,
and in a moment returns alone.
Osorio. Now—this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150
His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1] [Exit.
Scene changes to the court before the Castle
of Velez.
Maria and her Foster-Mother.
Maria. And when I heard that you desired to see me,
I thought your business was to tell me of him.
Foster-Mother. I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.
Maria. 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155
[572]
As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.
Foster-Mother. Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be,
That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady,
As often as I think of those dear times
When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160
On each side of my chair, and make me learn
All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk
In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you,
'Tis more like heaven to come, that what has been!
Maria. O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165
Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid—who gazes at it
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye
She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!
Foster-Mother. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170
Maria. No one.
Foster-Mother. My husband's father told it me,
Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul!
He was a woodman, and could fell and saw
With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam
Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy.
A pretty boy, but most unteachable—
And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,
But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185
And all the autumn 'twas his only play
To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
With earth and water on the stumps of trees.
A friar who gather'd simples in the wood,
A grey-hair'd man—he loved this little boy, 190
[573]
The boy loved him—and, when the friar taught him,
He soon could write with the pen; and from that time
Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.
So he became a very learned youth.
But O! poor wretch—he read, and read, and read, 195
Till his brain turn'd—and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things.
And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place.
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him,
And once as by the north side of the chapel
They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse,
The earth heav'd under them with such a groan,
That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205
Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd;
A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd
And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210
Sobb'd like a child—it almost broke his heart.
And once as he was working in the cellar,
He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's,
Who sung a doleful song about green fields,
How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described: 220
And the young man escaped.
Maria. 'Tis a sweet tale:
Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep,
His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears.
And what became of him?
Foster-Mother. He went on shipboard
With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225
Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother
Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain,
He told Leoni that the poor mad youth,
[574]
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230
And all alone set sail by silent moonlight,
Up a great river, great as any sea,
And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed
He liv'd and died among the savage men.
Enter Velez.