Afternoon.
SCENE. The Vestibule.
Enter PRINCE BERTHOLD and MELCHIOR.
BERTHOLD.
A thriving little burgh this Juliers looks.
[Half-apart.] Keep Juliers, and as good you kept Cologne:
Better try Aix, though!—
MELCHIOR.
Please ’t your Highness speak?
BERTHOLD [as before].
Aix, Cologne, Frankfort,—
Milan;—Rome!—
MELCHIOR.
The Grave.
More weary seems your Highness, I remark,
Than sundry conquerors whose path I’ve watched
Through fire and blood to any prize they gain.
I could well wish you, for your proper sake,
Had met some shade of opposition here
—Found a blunt seneschal refuse unlock,
Or a scared usher lead your steps astray.
You must not look for next achievement’s palm
So easily: this will hurt your conquering.
BERTHOLD.
My next? Ay, as you say, my next and next!
Well, I am tired, that’s truth, and moody too,
This quiet entrance-morning: listen why!
Our little burgh, now, Juliers—’tis indeed
One link, however insignificant,
Of the great chain by which I reach my hope,
—A link I must secure; but otherwise,
You’d wonder I esteem it worth my grasp.
Just see what life is, with its shifts and turns!
It happens now —this very nook—to be
A place that once . . not a long while since, neither—
When I lived an ambiguous hanger-on
Of foreign courts, and bore my claims about,
Discarded by one kinsman, and the other
A poor priest merely,—then, I say, this place
Shone my ambition’s object; to be Duke—
Seemed then, what to be Emperor seems now.
My rights were far from judged as plain and sure
In those days as of late, I promise you:
And ’twas my day-dream, Lady Colombe here
Might e’en compound the matter, pity me,
Be struck, say, with my chivalry and grace
(I was a boy! )—bestow her hand at length,
And make me Duke, in her right if not mine.
Here am I, Duke confessed, at Juliers now.
Hearken: if ever I be Emperor,
Remind me what I felt and said to-day!
MELCHIOR.
All this consoles a bookish man like me.
—And so will weariness cling to you. Wrong,
Wrong! Had you sought the lady’s court yourself,—
Faced the redoubtables composing it,
Flattered this, threatened that man, bribed the other,—
Pleaded by writ and word and deed, your cause,—
Conquered a footing inch by painful inch,—
And, after long years’ struggle, pounced at last
On her for prize,—the right life had been lived,
And justice done to divers faculties
Shut in that brow. Yourself were visible
As you stood victor, then; whom now—(your pardon!)
I am forced narrowly to search and see,
So are you hid by helps—this Pope, your uncle—
Your cousin, the other King! You are a mind,—
They, body: too much of mere legs-and-arms
Obstructs the mind so! Match these with their like:
Match mind with mind!
BERTHOLD.
And where’s your mind to match?
They show me legs-and-arms to cope withal!
I’d subjugate this city—where’s its mind?
[Tbe COURTIERS enter slowly.]
MELCHIOR.
Got out of sight when you came troops and all!
And in its stead, here greets you flesh-and-blood:
A smug œconomy of both, this first!
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[As CLUGNET bows obsequiously.]
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Well done, gout, all considered!—I may go?
BERTBOLD.
Help me receive them!
MELCHIOR.
Oh, they just will say
What yesterday at Aix their fellows said—
At Treves, the day before! Sir Prince, my friend,
Why do you let your life slip thus?—Meantime,
I have my little Juliers to achieve—
The understanding this tough Platonist,
Your holy uncle disinterred, Amelius:
Lend me a company of horse and foot,
To help me through his tractate—gain my Duchy!
BERTBOLD.
And Empire, after that is gained, will be—?
MELCHIOR.
To help me through your uncle’s comment, Prince!
[Goes.
BERTBOLD.
Ah? Well: he o’er—refines the scholar’s fault!
How do I let my life slip? Say, this life,
I lead now, differs from the common life
Of other men in mere degree, not kind,
Of joys and griefs,—still there is such degree
Mere largeness in a life is something, sure,—
Enough to care about and struggle for,
In this world: for this world, the size of things;
The sort of things, for that to come, no doubt.
A great is better than a little aim:
And when I wooed Priscilla’s rosy mouth
And failed so, under that gray convent-wall,
Was I more happy than I should be now
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[By this time, the COURTIERS are ranged before him.]
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If failing of my Empire? Not a whit.
—Here comes the mind, it once had tasked me sore
To baffle, but for my advantages!
All’s best as ’tis: these scholars talk and talk.
[Seats himself.]
THE COURTIERS.
Welcome our Prince to Juliers!—to his heritage!
Our dutifullest service proffer we!
CLUGNET.
I, please your Highness, having exercised
The function of Grand Chamberlain at court,
With much acceptance, as men testify . . .
BERTBOLD.
I cannot greatly thank you, gentlemen!
The Pope declares my claim to the Duchy founded
On strictest justice—you concede it, therefore,
I do not wonder: and the kings my friends
Protest they mean to see such claim enforced,—
You easily may offer to assist.
But there’s a slight discretionary power
To serve me in the matter, you’ve had long,
Though late you use it. This is well to say—
But could you not have said it months ago?
I’m not denied my own Duke’s truncheon, true—
’T is flung me—I stoop down, and from the ground
Pick it, with all you placid standers-by:
And now I have it, gems and mire at once,
Grace go with it to my soiled hands, you say!
GUIBERT.
(By Paul, the advocate our doughty friend
Cuts the best figure!)
GAUCELME.
If our ignorance
May have offended, sure our loyalty . . .
BERTBOLD.
Loyalty? Yours? Oh—of yourselves you speak!
I mean the Duchess all this time, I hope!
And since I have been forced repeat my claims
As if they never had been urged before,
As I began, so must I end, it seems.
The formal answer to the grave demand!
What says the lady?
COURTIERS [one to another], 1st COURTIER.
Marshal!
2nd COURTIER.
Orator!
GUIBERT.
A variation of our mistress’ way!
Wipe off his boots’ dust, Clugnet!—that, he waits!
1st COURTIER.
Your place!
2nd COURTIER.
Just now it was your own!
GUIBERT.
The devil’s!
BERTHOLD [to GUIBERT].
Come forward, friend—you with the paper, there!
Is Juliers the first city I’ve obtained?
By this time, I may boast proficiency
In each decorum of the circumstance.
Give it me as she gave it—the petition,
Demand, you style it! What’s required, in brief?
What title’s reservation, appanage’s
Allowance? I heard all at Treves, last week.
GAUCELME [to GUIBERT].
“Give it him as she gave it!”
GUIBERT.
And why not?
[To BERTHOLD.] The lady crushed your summons thus together,
And bade me, with the very greatest scorn
So fair a frame could hold, inform you . . .
COURTIERS.
Stop—
Idiot!
GUIBERT.
—Inform you she denied your claim,
Defied yourself! (I tread upon his heel,
The blustering advocate!)
BERTBOLD.
By heaven and earth!
Dare you jest, sir?
GUIBERT.
Did they at Treves, last week?
BERTHOLD [starting up.]
Why then, I look much bolder than I knew,
And you prove better actors than I thought:
Since, as I live, I took you as you entered
For just so many dearest friends of mine,
Fled from the sinking to the rising power
—The sneaking’st crew, in short, I e’er despised!
Whereas, I am alone here for the moment,
With every soldier left behind at Aix!
Silence? That means the worst? I thought as much!
What follows next then?
COURTIERS.
Gracious Prince, he raves!
GUIBERT.
He asked the truth and why not get the truth?
BERTBOLD.
Am I a prisoner? Speak, will somebody?
—But why stand paltering with imbeciles?
Let me see her, or . . .
GUIBERT.
Her, without her leave,
Shall no one see; she’s Duchess yet!
COURTIERS [footsteps without, as they are disputing].
Good chance!
She’s here—the Lady Colombe’s self!
BERTBOLD.
’T is well!
[Aside.] Array a handful thus against my world?
Not ill done, truly! Were not this a mind
To match one’s mind with? Colombe! Let us wait!
I failed so, under that gray convent wall!
She comes.
GUIBERT.
The Duchess! Strangers, range yourselves!
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[As the DUCHESS enters in conversation with
VALENCE, BERTHOLD and the COURTIERS fall
back a little.]
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THE DUCHESS.
Presagefully it beats, presagefully,
My heart: the right is Berthold’s and not mine.
VALENCE.
Grant that he has the right, dare I mistrust
Your power to acquiesce so patiently
As you believe, in such a dream-like change
Of fortune—change abrupt, profound, complete?
THE DUCHESS.
Ah, the first bitterness is over now!
Bitter I may have felt it to confront
The truth, and ascertain those natures’ value
I had so counted on; that was a pang:
But I did bear it, and the worst is over.
Let the Prince take them!
VALENCE.
And take Juliers too?
—Your people without crosses, wands and chains—
Only with hearts?
THE DUCHESS.
There I feel guilty, sir!
I cannot give up what I never had:
For I ruled these, not them—these stood between.
Shall I confess, sir? I have heard by stealth
Of Berthold from the first; more news and more:
Closer and closer swam the thundercloud,
But I was safely housed with these, I knew.
At times when to the casement I would turn,
At a bird’s passage or a flower-trail’s play,
I caught the storm’s red glimpses on its edge—
Yet I was sure some one of all these friends
Would interpose: I followed the bird’s flight
Or plucked the flower: some one would interpose!
VALENCE.
Not one thought on the People and—Cleves there!
THE DUCHESS.
Now, sadly conscious my real sway was missed,
Its shadow goes without so much regret:
Else could I not again thus calmly bid you,
Answer Prince Berthold!
VALENCE.
Then you acquiesce?
THE DUCHESS.
Remember over whom it was I ruled!
GUIBERT [stepping forward].
Prince Berthold, yonder, craves an audience, lady!
THE DUCHESS [to VALENCE],
I only have to turn, and I shall face
Prince Berthold! Oh, my very heart is sick!
It is the daughter of a line of Dukes
This scornful insolent adventurer
Will bid depart from my dead father’s halls!
I shall not answer him—dispute with him—
But, as he bids, depart! Prevent it, sir!
Sir—but a mere day’s respite! Urge for me
—What I shall call to mind I should have urged
When time’s gone by: ’t will all be mine, you urge!
A day—an hour—that I myself may lay
My rule down! ’T is too sudden—must not be!
The world’s to hear of it! Once done—forever!
How will it read, sir? How be sung about?
Prevent it!
BERTHOLD [approaching].
Your frank indignation, lady,
Cannot escape me. Overbold I seem;
But somewhat should be pardoned my surprise
At this reception,—this defiance, rather.
And if, for their and your sake, I rejoice
Your virtues could inspire a trusty few
To make such gallant stand in your behalf,
I cannot but be sorry, for my own,
Your friends should force me to retrace my steps:
Since I no longer am permitted speak
After the pleasant peaceful course prescribed
No less by courtesy than relationship—
Which I remember, if you once forgot.
But never must attack pass unrepelled.
Suffer that, through you, I demand of these,
Who controverts my claim to Juliers?
THE DUCHESS.
—Me
You say, you do not speak to—
BERTHOLD.
Of your subjects
I ask, then: whom do you accredit? Where
Stand those should answer?
VALENCE [advancing].
The lady is alone.
BERTHOLD.
Alone, and thus? So weak and yet so bold?
VALENCE.
I said she was alone—
BERTHOLD.
And weak, I said.
VALENCE.
When is man strong until he feels alone?
It was some lonely strength at first, be sure,
Created organs, such as those you seek,
By which to give its varied purpose shape:
And, naming the selected ministrants,
Took sword, and shield, and sceptre,—each, a man!
That strength performed its work and passed its way:
You see our lady: there, the old shapes stand!
—A Marshal, Chamberlain, and Chancellor—
“Be helped their way, into their death put life
And find advantage!”— so you counsel us.
But let strength feel alone, seek help itself,
And, as the inland-hatched sea-creature hunts
The sea’s breast out,—as, littered ’mid the waves
The desert-brute makes for the desert’s joy,
So turns our lady to her true resource,
Passing o’er hollow fictions, worn-out types,
—And I am first her instinct fastens on.
And prompt I say, as clear as heart can speak,
The People will not have you; nor shall have!
It is not merely I shall go bring Cleves
And fight you to the last,—though that does much,
And men and children,—ay, and women too,
Fighting for home, are rather to be feared
Than mercenaries fighting for their pay—
But, say you beat us, since such things have been,
And, where this Juliers laughed, you set your foot
Upon a steaming bloody plash—what then?
Stand you the more our lord that there you stand?
Lord it o’er troops whose force you concentrate,
A pillared flame whereto all ardors tend—
Lord it ’mid priests whose schemes you amplify,
A cloud of smoke ’neath which all shadows brood—
But never, in this gentle spot of earth,
Can you become our Colombe, our play-queen,
For whom, to furnish lilies for her hair,
We’d pour our veins forth to enrich the soil.
—Our conqueror? Yes! Our despot? Yes!—Our Duke?
Know yourself, know us!
BERTBOLD [who has been in thought.]
Know your lady, also!
[Very deferentially.] —To whom I needs must exculpate myself
For having made a rash demand, at least.
Wherefore to you, sir, who appear to be
Her chief adviser, I submit my claims, [Giving papers.
But, this step taken, take no further step,
Until the Duchess shall pronounce their worth.
Here be our meeting-place; at night, its time:
Till when I humbly take the lady’s leave!
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[He withdraws. As the DUCHESS turns to
VALENCE, the COURTIERS interchange glances and come forward a little.
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1st COURTIER.
So, this was their device!
2nd COURTIER.
No bad device!
3rd COURTIER.
You’d say they love each other,
Guibert’s friend
From Cleves, and she, the Duchess!
4th COURTIER.
—And moreover,
That all Prince Berthold comes for, is to help
Their loves!
5th COURTIER.
Pray, Guibert, what is next to do?
GUIBERT [advancing].
I laid my office at the Duchess’ foot
OTHERS.
And I—and I—and I!
THE DUCHESS.
I took them, sirs.
GUIBERT [apart to VALENCE].
And now, sir, I am simple knight again—
Guibert, of the great ancient house, as yet
That never bore affront; whate’er your birth,—
As things stand now, I recognize yourself
(If you’ll accept experience of some date)
As like to be the leading man o’ the time,
Therefore as much above me now, as I
Seemed above you this morning. Then, I offered
To fight you: will you be as generous
And now fight me?
VALENCE.
Ask when my life is mine!
GUIBERT.
(’T is hers now!)
CLUGNET [apart to VALENCE, as GUIBERT turns from him.]
You, sir, have insulted me
Grossly,—will grant me, too, the selfsame favor
You—ve granted him, just now, I make no question?
VALENCE.
I promise you, as him, sir.
CLUGNET.
Do you so?
Handsomely said! I hold you to it, sir.
You’ll get me reinstated in my office
As you will Guibert!
THE DUCHESS.
I would be alone!
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[Tbey begin to retire slowly; as VALENCE is about to follow]
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Alone, sir—only with my heart: you stay!
GAUCELME.
You hear that? Ah, light breaks upon me! Cleves—
It was at Cleves some man harangued us all—
With great effect,—so those who listened said,
My thoughts being busy elsewhere: was this he?
Guibert,—your strange, disinterested man!
Your uncorrupted, if uncourtly friend!
The modest worth you mean to patronize!
He cares about no Duchesses, not he—
His sole concern is with the wrongs of Cleves!
What, Guibert? What, it breaks on you at last?
GUIBERT.
Would this hall’s floor were a mine’s roof! I’d back
And in her very face . . .
GAUCELME.
Apply the match
That fired the train, and where would you be, pray?
GUIBERT.
With him!
GAUCELME.
Stand, rather, safe outside with me!
The mine’s charged: shall I furnish you the match
And place you properly? To the antechamber!
GUIBERT.
Can you?
GAUCELME.
Try me! Your friend’s in fortune!
GUIBERT.
Quick—
To the antechamber! He is pale with bliss!
GAUCELME.
No wonder! Mark her eyes!
GUIBERT.
To the antechamber!
[The Courtiers retire.
THE DUCHESS.
Sir, could you know all you have done for me
You were content! You spoke, and I am saved.
VALENCE.
Be not too sanguine, lady! Ere you dream,
That transient flush of generosity
Fades off, perchance. The man, beside, is gone,—
Him we might bend; but see, the papers here—
Inalterably his requirement stays,
And cold hard words have we to deal with now.
In that large eye there seemed a latent pride,
To self-denial not incompetent,
But very like to hold itself dispensed
From such a grace: however, let us hope!
He is a noble spirit in noble form.
I wish he less had bent that brow to smile
As with the fancy how he could subject
Himself upon occasion—to himself!
From rudeness, violence, you rest secure;
But do not think your Duchy rescued yet!
THE DUCHESS.
You,—who have opened a new world to me,
Will never take the faded language up
Of that I leave? My Duchy—keeping it,
Or losing it—is that my sole world now?
VALENCE.
Ill have I spoken if you thence despise
Juliers; although the lowest, on true grounds,
Be worth more than the highest rule, on false:
Aspire to rule, on the true grounds!
THE DUCHESS.
Nay, hear—
False, I will never—rash, I would not be!
This is indeed my birthday—soul and body,
Its hours have done on me the work of years.
You hold the requisition: ponder it!
If I have right, my duty’s plain: if he—
Say so, nor ever change a tone of voice!
At night you meet the Prince; meet me at eve!
Till when, farewell! This discomposes you?
Believe in your own nature, and its force
Of renovating mine! I take my stand
Only as under me the earth is firm:
So, prove the first step stable, all will prove.
That first, I choose: [Laying her hand on his.]—the next to take, choose you!
[She withdraws.
VALENCE [after a pause].
What drew down this on me?—on me, dead once,
She thus bids live,—since all I hitherto
Thought dead in me, youth’s ardors and emprise,
Burst into life before her, as she bids
Who needs them. Whither will this reach, where end?
Her hand’s print burns on mine . . . Yet she’s above—
So very far above me! All’s too plain:
I served her when the others sank away,
And she rewards me as such souls reward—
The changed voice, the suffusion of the cheek,
The eye’s acceptance, the expressive hand,
—Reward, that’s little, in her generous thought,
Though all to me . . .
I cannot so disclaim
Heaven’s gift, nor call it other than it is!
She loves me!
[Looking at the PRINCE’S papers.]—Which love, these, perchance, forbid.
Can I decide against myself—pronounce
She is the Duchess and no mate for me?
—Cleves, help me! Teach me,—every haggard face,
To sorrow and endure! I will do right
Whatever be the issue. Help me, Cleves!
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