Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series
Page 266
Some new perplexities.
Polyxena.
Which you can solve,
Although he cannot?
Charles.
He assures me so.
Polyxena.
And this he means shall last — how long?
Charles.
How long?
Think you I fear the perils I confront?
He’s praising me before the people’s face —
My people!
Polyxena.
Then he’s changed — grown kind, the King?
(Where can the trap be?)
Charles.
Heart and soul I pledge!
My father, could I guard the Crown you gained,
Transmit as I received it, — all good else
Would I surrender!
Polyxena.
Ah, it opens then
Before you — all you dreaded formerly?
You are rejoiced to be a king, my Charles?
Charles.
So much to dare? The better; — much to dread?
The better. I’ll adventure tho’ alone.
Triumph or die, there’s Victor still to witness
Who dies or triumphs — either way, alone!
Polyxena.
Once I had found my share in triumph, Charles,
Or death.
Charles.
But you are I! But you I call
To take, Heaven’s proxy, vows I tendered Heaven
A moment since. I will deserve the crown!
Polyxena.
You will. [Aside.] No doubt it were a glorious thing
For any people, if a heart like his
Ruled over it. I would I saw the trap!
[Enter Victor.]
‘Tis he must show me.
Victor.
So the mask falls off
An old man’s foolish love at last! Spare thanks —
I know you, and Polyxena I know.
Here’s Charles — I am his guest now — does he bid me
Be seated? And my light-haired, blue-eyed child
Must not forget the old man far away
At Chambery, who dozes while she reigns.
Polyxena.
Most grateful shall we now be, talking least.
Of gratitude — indeed of any thing
That hinders what yourself must have to say
To Charles.
Charles.
Pray speak, Sire!
Victor.
’Faith, not much to say —
Only what shows itself, once in the point
Of sight. You are now the King: you’ll comprehend
Much you may oft have wondered at — the shifts,
Dissimulation, willingness I showed.
For what’s our post? Here’s Savoy and here’s Piedmont,
Here’s Montferrat — a breadth here, a space there —
To o’ersweep all these, what’s one weapon worth?
I often think of how they fought in Greece
(Or Rome, which was it? You’re the scholar, Charles!)
You made a front-thrust? But if your shield, too,
Were not adroitly planted — some shrewd knave
Reached you behind; and, him foiled, straight if thong
And handle of that shield were not cast loose,
And you enabled to outstrip the wind,
Fresh foes assailed you, either side; ‘scape these,
And reach your place of refuge — e’en then, odds
If the gate opened unless breath enough
Was left in you to make its lord a speech.
Oh, you will see!
Charles.
No: straight on shall I go,
Truth helping; win with it or die with it.
Victor.
‘Faith, Charles, you’re not made Europe’s fighting-man!
Its barrier-guarder, if you please. You hold,
Not take — consolidate, with envious French
This side, with Austrians that, these territories
I held — ay, and will hold . . . which you shall hold
Despite the couple! But I’ve surely earned
Exemption from these weary politics,
— The privilege to prattle with my son
And daughter here, tho’ Europe waits the while.
Polyxena.
Nay, Sire, — at Chambery, away forever,
As soon you’ll be, ‘tis a farewell we bid you!
Turn these few fleeting moments to account!
‘Tis just as though it were a death.
Victor.
Indeed!
Polyxena.
[Aside.] Is the trap there?
Charles.
Ay, call this parting — death!
The sacreder your memory becomes.
If I misrule Sardinia, how bring back
My father? No — that thought shall ever urge me.
Victor.
I do not mean . . .
Polyxena.
[who watches Victor narrowly this while.]
Your father does not mean
That you are ruling for your father’s sake:
It is your people must concern you wholly
Instead of him. You meant this, Sire? (He drops
My hand!)
Charles.
That People is now part of me.
Victor.
About the People! I took certain measures
Some short time since . . Oh, I’m aware you know
But little of my measures — these affect
The nobles — we’ve resumed some grants, imposed
A tax or two; prepare yourself, in short,
For clamours on that score: mark me: you yield
No jot of what’s intrusted you!
Polyxena.
No jot
You yield!
Charles.
My father, when I took the oath,
Although my eye might stray in search of yours,
I heard it, understood it, promised God
What you require. Till from this eminence
He moves me, here I keep, nor shall concede
The meanest of my rights.
Victor.
[Aside.] The boy’s a fool!
— Or rather, I’m a fool: for, what’s wrong here?
To-day the sweets of reigning — let to-morrow
Be ready with its bitters.
[Enter D’Ormea.]
There’s beside
Somewhat to press upon your notice first.
Charles.
Then why delay it for an instant, Sire?
That Spanish claim, perchance? And, now you speak,
— This morning, my opinion was mature —
Which, boy-like, I was bashful in producing
To one, I ne’er am like to fear, in future!
My thought is formed upon that Spanish claim.
Victor.
(Betimes, indeed.) Not now, Charles. You require
A host of papers on it —
D’Ormea.
[coming forward.] Here they are.
[To Charles.] I was the minister and much beside —
Of the late monarch: to say little, him
I served; on you I have, to say e’en less,
No claim. This case contains those papers: with them
I tender you my office.
Victor.
[hastily.] Keep him, Charles!
There’s reason for it — many reasons: you
Distrust him, nor are so far wrong there, — but
He’s mixed up in this matter — he’ll desire
To quit you, for occasions known to me:
Do not accept those, reasons — have him stay!
Polyxena.
[Aside.] His minister thrust on us!
Charles.
[to D’Ormea.] Sir, believe,
In justice to myself, you do not need
E’en this commending: whatso’er might be
My
feelings toward you as a private man,
They quit me in the vast and untried field
Of action. Though I shall, myself, (as late
In your own hearing I engaged to do)
Preside o’er my Sardinia, yet your help
Is necessary. Think the past forgotten,
And serve me now!
D’Ormea.
I did not offer you
My services — would I could serve you, Sire!
As for the Spanish matter . . .
Victor.
But despatch
At least the dead, in my good daughter’s phrase,
Before the living! Help to house me safe
Ere you and D’Ormea set the world a-gape!
Here is a paper — will you overlook
What I propose reserving for my needs?
I get as far from you as possible.
There’s what I reckon my expenditure.
Charles.
[reading.] A miserable fifty thousand crowns!
Victor.
Oh, quite enough for country gentlemen!
Beside the exchequer happens . . . but find out
All that, yourself!
Charles.
[still reading.] “Count Tende” — what means this?
Victor.
Me: you were but an infant when I burst
Through the defile of Tende upon France.
Had only my allies kept true to me!
No matter. Tende’s then, a name I take
Just as . . ,
D’Ormea.
— The Marchioness Sebastian takes
The name of Spigno.
Charles.
How, sir?
Victor.
[to D’Ormea.] Fool! All that
Was for my own detailing. [To Charles.] That anon!
Charles.
[to D’Ormea.] Explain what you have said, sir!
D’Ormea.
I supposed
The marriage of the King to her I named,
Profoundly kept a secret these few weeks,
Was not to be one, now he’s Count.
Polyxena.
[Aside.] With us
The minister — with him the mistress!
Charles.
[to Victor.] No —
Tell me you have not taken her — that woman
To live with, past recall!
Victor,
And where’s the crime . . .
Polyxena.
[to Charles.] True, sir, this is a matter past recall,
And past your cognizance. A day before,
And you had been compelled to note this — now
Why note it? The King saved his House from shame:
What the Count does, is no concern of yours.
Charles.
[after a pause.] The Spanish business, D’Ormea!
Victor.
Why, my son,
I took some ill-advised . . . one’s age, in fact,
Spoils every thing: though I was overreached,
A younger brain, we’ll trust, may extricate
Sardinia readily. To-morrow, D’Ormea,
Inform the King!
D’Ormea.
[without regarding Victor, and leisurely.]
Thus stands the case with Spain:
“When first the Infant Carlos claimed his proper
Succession to the throne of Tuscany . . .
Victor.
I tell you, that stands over! Let that rest!
There is the policy!
Charles.
[to D’Ormea.] Thus much I know,
And more — too much: the remedy?
D’Ormea.
Of course!
No glimpse of one —
Victor.
No remedy at all!
It makes the remedy itself — time makes it.
D’Ormea.
[to Charles.] But if...
Victor.
[still more hastily.] In fine, I shall take care of that —
And, with another project that I have . . .
D’Ormea.
[turning on him.] Oh, since Count Tende means to take again
King Victor’s crown! —
Polyxena.
[throwing herself at Victor’s feet.] E’en now retake it, Sire!
Oh, speak! We are your subjects both, once more!
Say it — a word effects it! You meant not,
Nor do mean now, to take it — but you must!
‘Tis in you — in your nature — and the shame’s
Not half the shame ‘twould grow to afterward!
Charles.
Polyxena!
Polyxena.
A word recalls the Knights —
Say it! — What’s promising and what’s the past?
Say you are still King Victor!
D’Ormea.
Better say
The Count repents, in brief!
[Victor rises.]
Charles.
With such a crime
I have not charged you, Sire!
Polyxena.
Charles turns from me!
SECOND YEAR 1731. — KING CHARLES.
Part I.
Enter Queen Polyxena and D’Ormea. — A pause.
Polyxena.
And now, sir, what have you to say?
D’Ormea.
Count Tende . . .
Polyxena.
Affirm not I betrayed you; you resolve
On uttering this strange intelligence
— Nay, post yourself to find me ere I reach
The capital, because you know King Charles
Tarries a day or two at Evian baths
Behind me: — but take warning, — here and thus
[Seating herself in the royal seat.]
I listen, if I listen — not your friend.
Explicitly the statement, if you still
Persist to urge it on me, must proceed:
I am not made for aught else.
D’Ormea.
Good! Count Tende . . .
Polyxena.
I, who mistrust you, shall acquaint King Charles,
Who even more mistrusts you.
D’Ormea.
Does he so?
Polyxena.
Why should he not?
D’Ormea.
Ay, why not? Motives, seek
You virtuous people, motives! Say, I serve
God at the devil’s bidding — will that do?
I’m proud: our People have been pacified
(Really I know not how) —
Polyxena.
By truthfulness.
D’Ormea.
Exactly ; that shows I had nought to do
With pacifying them: our foreign perils
Also exceed my means to stay: but here
‘Tis otherwise, and my pride’s piqued. Count Tende
Completes a full year’s absence: would you, madam,
Have the old monarch back, his mistress back,
His measures back? I pray you, act upon
My counsel, or they will be.
Polyxena.
When?
D’Ormea.
Let’s think.
Home-matters settled — Victor’s coming now;
Let foreign matters settle — Victor’s here:
Unless I stop him; as I will, this way.
Polyxena.
[Reading the papers he presents.]
If this should prove a plot ‘twixt you and Victor?
You seek annoyances to give him pretext
For what you say you fear!
D’Ormea.
Oh, possibly!
I go for nothing. Only show King Charles
That thus Count Tende purposes return,
And style me his inviter, if you please.
Polyxena.
Half of your tale is true; most like, the Count
Seeks to return: but why stay you with us?
&n
bsp; To aid in such emergencies.
D’Ormea.
Keep safe
Those papers: or, to serve me, leave no proof
I thus have counselled: when the Count returns,
And the King abdicates, ‘twill stead me little
To have thus counselled.
Polyxena.
The King abdicate!
D’Ormea.
He’s good, we knew long since — wise, we discover —
Firm, let us hope: — but I’d have gone to work
With him away. Well!
[Charles without.] In the Council Chamber?
D’Ormea.
All’s lost!
Polyxena.
Oh, surely, not King Charles! He’s changed —
That’s not this year’s care-burdened voice and step:
‘Tis last year’s step — the Prince’s voice!
D’Ormea.
I know!
[Enter Charles: — D’Ormea retiring a little.]
Charles.
Now wish me joy, Polyxena! Wish it me
The old way!
[She embraces him.]
There was too much cause for that!
But I have found myself again! What’s news
At Turin? Oh, if you but felt the load
I’m free of — free! I said this year would end
Or it, or me — but I am free, thank God!
Polyxena.
How, Charles?
Charles.
You do not guess? The day I found
Sardinia’s hideous coil, at home, abroad,
And how my father was involved in it, —
Of course, I vowed to rest or smile no more
Until I freed his name from obloquy.
We did the people right — ’twas much to gain
That point, redress our nobles’ grievance, too —
But that took place here, was no crying shame:
All must be done abroad, — if I abroad
Appeased the justly angered Powers, destroyed
The scandal, took down Victor’s name at last
From a bad eminence, I then might breathe
And rest! No moment was to lose. Behold
The proud result — a Treaty, Austria, Spain
Agree to —
D’Ormea.
[Aside.] I shall merely stipulate
For an experienced headsman.
Charles.
Not a soul
Is compromised: the blotted Past’s a blank:
Even D’Ormea will escape unquestioned. See!
It reached me from Vienna; I remained
At Evian to despatch the Count his news;
‘Tis gone to Chambery a week ago —
And here am I: do I deserve to feel
Your warm white arms around me?
D’Ormea.
[coming forward.] He knows that?
Charles.
What, in Heaven’s name, means this?
D’Ormea.
He knows that matters
Are settled at Vienna? Not too late!
D’Ormea.
Plainly, unless you post this very hour
Some man you trust (say, me) to Chambery,
And take precautions I’ll acquaint you with,