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 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO

 
 RICHELIEU; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 ^ '43132, 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 
 
 HISTORICAL ODES 
 
 ON 
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF ELIZABETH; 
 
 CROMWELL'S DREAMj 
 
 THE DEATH OF NELSON. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE LADY OF LYONS," 
 " PELHAM," " THE DISOWNED," &C. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-ST. 
 
 183 9. 
 
 OA^
 
 " Le Cotnte de Soissons, et le Due de Bouillon, avaient une bonne 
 annee,et lis savaient la conduire ; et pour plus grande surete, tandis 
 que cette annee devait s'avancer, on devait assassmer le cardinal et 
 
 faire soulever Paris Les conjures faisaicnt un trait^ 
 
 avec I'Espagne pour introduire des troupes en France, et pour y 
 mettre tout en confusion dans une regence qu'on croyait prochaine, 
 et dont chacun cspeiait profiler .... Richelieu avait perdu 
 toute sa faveur, et ne conservait que I'avantage d'etre necessaire. Le 
 oonheur du cardinal voulat encore que le complot fut decouvert, et 
 qu'une copie du traite lui tombat entre les mains." — Voltaire, 
 Hist. Gen.
 
 PREFACE TO RICHELIEU. 
 
 The administration of Cardinal Richelieu, whom 
 (despite all his darker qualities) Voltaire and history 
 justly consider the true architect of the French mon- 
 archy and the great parent of French civilization, is 
 characterized by features alike tragic and comic. A 
 weak king, an ambitious favourite ; a despicable con- 
 spiracy against the minister, nearly always associated 
 with a dangerous treason against the state : these, with 
 little variety of names and dates, constitute the event- 
 ful cycle through which, with a dazzling ease and an 
 arrogant confidence, the great luminary fulfilled its des- 
 tinies. Blended together in startling contrast, we see 
 the grandest achievements and the pettiest agents ; the 
 spy, the mistress, the Capucliin ; the destruction of feu- 
 dalism ; the humiliation of Austria ; the dismember- 
 ment of Spain. 
 
 Richelieu himself is still what he was in his own day, 
 a man of two characters. If, on the one hand, he is 
 justly represented as inflexible and vindictive, ci-afty 
 and unscrupulous ; so, on the other, it cannot be de- 
 nied that he was placed in times in which the long im- 
 punity of every license required stern examples ; that 
 he was beset by perils and intrigues, which gave a 
 certain excuse to the subtlest inventions of self-de- 
 fence ; that his ambition was inseparably connected 
 with a passionate love for the glory of his country ; 
 and that, if he was her dictator, he was not less her 
 benefactor. It has been fairly remarked by the most 
 impartial historians, that he was no less generous to 
 merit than severe to crime ; that, in the various de- 
 partments of the state, the army, and the church, he 
 selected and distinguished the ablest aspirants ; that 
 
 A 2
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 the wars which he conducted were, for the most part, 
 essential to the preservation of France, and Europe it- 
 self, from the formidable encroachments of the Austrian 
 house ; that, in spite of those wars, the people were 
 not oppressed with exorbitant imposts ; and that he left 
 the kingdom he had governed in a more flourishing and 
 vigorous state than at any former period of the French 
 history, or at the decease of Louis XIV. 
 
 The cabals formed against this great statesman 
 were not carried on by the patriotism of public virtue 
 or the emulation of equal talent : they were but court 
 struggles, in which the most worthless agents had re- 
 course to the most desperate means. In each, as I 
 have before observed, we see the twofold attempt to 
 murder the minister and to betray the country. Such, 
 then, are the agents, and such the designs, with which 
 truth, in the drama as in history, requires us to con- 
 trast the celebrated cardinal; not disguising his foibles 
 or his vices, but not unjust to the grander qualities 
 (especially the love of country) by which they were 
 often dignitied, and, at times, redeemed. 
 
 The historical drama is the concentration of histor- 
 ical events. In the attempt to place upon the stage the 
 picture of an era, that license with dates and details 
 which poetry permits, and which the highest author- 
 ities in the drama of France herself have sanctioned, 
 has been, though not unsparingly, indulged. The con- 
 spiracy of the J3uc de Bouillon is, for instance, amalga- 
 mated with the denouement of The Day of Dupes;* and 
 circumstances connected with the treason of Cinq Mars 
 (whose brilliant youth and gloomy catastrophe tend to 
 subvert poetic and historic justice, by seducing us to 
 forget his base ingratitude and his perfidious apostacy) 
 are identified with the fate of the earlier favourite 
 
 * Le cardinal se croit perdu, et prepare sa retraite. Ses amis lui 
 conseillent de tenter entin aupr^s du roi un nouvel effort. Le car- 
 dinal va trouver le roi a Versailles. Le roi qui avail sacrifie soil 
 ministre par faiblesse, se remit par faiblesse entre ses mains, et il lui 
 abandonne ceux qui I'avaient perdu. Ce jour qui est encore a pres- 
 ent appelle la Joumie des Dupes, fut celui du pouvoir absolu du car- 
 dinal. — Voltaire, Hist. Gen.
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 Baradas,* whose sudden rise and as sudden fall passed 
 into a proverb. I ought to add, that the noble romance 
 of Cinq Mars suggested one of the scenes in the fifth 
 act ; and that for the conception of some portion of the 
 intrigue connected with De Mauprat and Julie, I am, 
 with great alterations of incident, and considerable, if 
 not entire reconstruction of character, indebted to an 
 early and admirable novel by the author of Picciola.] 
 
 London, April, 1839. 
 
 * En six mois il (le roi) fit (Baradas) premier ecuyer, premier gen- 
 tilhornme de la chambre, Capitaiue de St. Germain, and lieutenantde 
 roi, en Champagne. En moins de temps encore, on lui ota tout, et 
 des debris de sa grandeur, a. peine lui reslat-il de quoi payer ses 
 dettes : de sorte que pour signitier une grande fortune dissipee aussi 
 qu'acquise on disoit en commun proterbe Fortune de Baradas. — An- 
 qitetU. 
 
 t It may be as well, however, to caution the English reader against 
 some of the impressions which the eloquence of both the writers 
 I refer to are calculated to leave. They have exaggerated the more 
 evil, and have kept out of sight the nobler, qualities of the cardinal.
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA, 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN, 
 
 THURSDAY, MARCH 7, 1839. 
 
 Men. 
 
 Louis the Thirteenth Mr. Elton. 
 
 Gaston, Duke of Orleans, hroUier to 
 
 Louis XIII. Mr. Diddear. 
 
 Baradas, favourite of the king, first 
 gentleman of the chamber, premier 
 ecuijer, dfe Mr. Warde. 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu Mr. Macrkady. 
 
 The Chevalier de Mauprat . . . Mr. Anderson. 
 
 The Sieurde Beringhen {in attendance 
 
 on the king* one of the conspirators) Mr. Vining. 
 
 Joseph, a Capuchin, Richelieu'' s confi- 
 dant Mr. Phelps. 
 
 Huguet, an officer of Richelieu's house- 
 hold guard, a spy Mr. Bennett. 
 
 Francois, _;?r5< page to Richelieu . . ]\Ir. Howe. 
 
 First Courtier Mr. Roberts. 
 
 Captain of the Archers Mr. Matthews. 
 
 First, ^ C Mr. Tilbury. 
 
 Second, > Secretaries of state . . .< Mr. Yarnold. 
 
 Third ) { Mr. Payne. 
 
 Governor of the Bastile . . . . . Mr. Waldron. 
 
 Jailer Mr. Ayliffe. 
 
 Courtiers, Pages, Conspirators, Officers, Soldiers, <fc. 
 
 Women. 
 
 Julie de Mortemar, an orphan, ward 
 
 to Richelieu Miss H. Faucit. 
 
 Marion de Lorme, mistress to Orleans, 
 
 but in Richelieu^s pay Miss Charles. 
 
 * Properly speaking, the king's first Valet de Chambre, a post of 
 great importance at that time.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 The length of the play necessarily requires curtailments on the 
 etage, the principal of which are specified (as they occur) in mar- 
 ginal notes. Many of the passages thus omitted, however immate- 
 rial to the audience, must obviously be such as the reader would be 
 least inclined to dispense with, viz., those which, without being ab- 
 solutely essential to the business of the stage, contain either the 
 subtler strokes of character, or the more poetical embellishments of 
 description. A more important consequence of these suppressions is, 
 that Richelieu himself is left, too often and too unrehevedly, to po- 
 sitions which place him in an amiable light, without that shadowing 
 forth of his more sinister motives and his fiercer qualities which is 
 attempted in the written play. Thus, the character takes a degree of 
 credit due only to the situation. To judge the author's conception of 
 Richelieu fairly, and to estimate how far it is consistent with liistori- 
 cal portraiture, the play must be read.
 
 RICHE LIEU; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 A C T I. 
 
 iF i V s t 29 a g. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A room in the house of Marion de Lorme ; a table towards 
 the front of the stage {ivith luine, fruits, dfc), at ivhich 
 are seated Baradas, four courtiers, sflendidly dressed in 
 the costume of 1641-2 ; the Duke of Orleans reclining on 
 a large fauteuil ; Marion de Lorme, standing at the hack 
 of his chair, offers him a goblet and then retires. At 
 another table, De Bcringhen, De Mauprat, playing at 
 dice; other courtiers, of inferior rank to those at the 
 table of the duke, looking on. 
 
 ORLEANS {drinking). 
 Here's to our enterprise ! 
 
 BARADAS {glancing at Marion). 
 Hush, sir ! 
 
 ORLEANS {aside). 
 
 Nay, count, 
 You may trust her ; she dotes on me ; no house 
 So safe as Marion's.* At our stateher homes 
 The very walls do play the eavesdropper. 
 There's not a sunbeam creeping o'er our floors 
 But seems a glance from that malignant eye 
 "Which reigns o'er France ; our fatal greatness lives 
 In the sharp glare of one relentless day. 
 But Richelieu's self forgets to fear the sword 
 
 * Omitted in representation, from " At our statelier homes," line 
 3, to the end of speech, line 13
 
 12 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT I. 
 
 The myrtle hides ; and Marion's silken robe 
 Casts its kind charity o'er fiercer sins 
 Than those which haunt the rosy path between 
 The lip and eye of beauty. Oh, no house 
 So safe as Marion's. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Still, we have a secret, 
 And oil and water — woman and a secret — 
 Are hostile properties. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Well — Marion, see 
 How the play prospers yonder. 
 
 (Marion goes to the next table, looks on for a few moments, 
 
 then exit.) 
 
 BARADAS {producing a parchment). 
 
 I have now 
 All tTie conditions drawn ; it only needs 
 Our signatures : upon receipt of this 
 (Whereto is joined the schedule of our treaty 
 With the count-duke,* the Richeheu of the Escurial), 
 Bouillon will join his army with the Spaniard, 
 March on to Paris, there dethrone the king; 
 You will be regent ; I and ye, my lords, 
 Form the new council. So much for the core 
 Of our great scheme. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 But Richelieu is an Argus ; 
 One of his hundred eyes will light upon us, 
 And then — good-by to life. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 To gain the prize 
 We must destroy the Argus : ay, my lords, 
 The scroll the core, but blood must fill the veins 
 Of our design ; while this despatched to Bouillon, 
 Richelieu despatched to Heaven ! The last tny charge 
 Meet here to-morrow night. You, sir, as first 
 In honour and in hope, meanwhile select 
 Some trusty knave to bear the scroll to Bouillon ; 
 Mid Richelieu's foes 77/ find some desperate hand 
 To strike for vengeance, while we stride to power. 
 
 * Olivares, Minister of Spain.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 13 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 So be it ; to-morrow, midnight. Come, my lords. 
 
 [Exeunt Orleans and the courtiers in his tram. Those 
 at the other table rise, salute Orleans, and reseat 
 themselves. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Double the stakes. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Done. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Bravo ; faith, it shames me 
 To bleed a purse already m extremis. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Nay, as you've had the patient to yourself 
 So long, no other doctor should despatch it. 
 
 {De Mauprat throws and loses.) 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Lost ! Ha, ha, poor De Mauprat ! 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 One throw more ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 No; I am bankrupt {pushing gold). There goes all— ^ 
 
 except 
 My honour and my sword. {They rise.) 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Long cloaks and honour 
 Went out of vogue together, when we found 
 We got on much more rapidly without them ; 
 The sword, indeed, is never out of fashion ; 
 The devil has care of that. 
 
 FIRST GAMESTER. 
 
 Ay, take the sword 
 To Cardinal Richelieu : he gives gold for steel 
 When worn by brave men. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Richelieu !
 
 14 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT I. 
 
 DK BERiNGHEN {io Baiadas). 
 
 At that name 
 He changes colour, bites his nether hp. 
 Ev'n in his brightest moments whisper " RicheUeu," 
 And you cloud all his sunshine. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 I have raark'd it, 
 And I will learn the wherefore. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 The Egyptian 
 Dissolved her richest jewel in a draught : 
 Would I could so melt time and all its treasures, 
 And drain it thus {drinking). 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Come, gentlemen, what say ye :" 
 A walk on the Parade ! 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 Ay ; come, De Mauprat. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Pardon me ; we shall meet again ere nightfall. 
 
 BARJVDAS. 
 
 I'll stay and comfort Mauprat. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Comfort ! when 
 We gallant fellows have run out a friend. 
 There's nothing left, except to run him through ! 
 There's the last act of friendship. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Let me keep 
 That favour in reserve ; in all besides 
 Your most obedient servant. 
 
 [Exeunt De Berlnghen, dfc. Mancnt de Mauprat and 
 Baradas. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You- have lost, 
 Yet are not sad.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 15 
 
 DE MAUPRA.T. 
 
 Sad ! Life and gold have wings, 
 And must fly one day : open, then, their cages, 
 And wish them merry. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You're a strange enigma : 
 Fiery in war, and yet to glory lukewarm ; 
 All mirth in action, in repose all gloom. 
 These are extremes in which the unconscious heart 
 Betrays the fever of deep-fix'd disease. 
 Confide in me ! our young days roU'd together 
 In the same river, glassing the same stars 
 T]iat smile i' the heaven of hope ; alike we made 
 Bright-wing'd steeds of our unform'd chimeras, 
 Spurring the fancies upward to the air, 
 Wherein we shaped fair castles from the cloud. 
 Fortune of late has sever'd us, and led 
 Me to the rank of courtier, count, and favourite, 
 You to the titles of the wildest gallant 
 And bravest knight in France ; are you content 1 
 No ; trust in me ; some gloomy secret — 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Ay; 
 
 A secret that doth haunt me, as, of old. 
 
 Men were possessed of fiends ! Where'er I turn, 
 
 The grave yawns dark before me I I will trust you ; 
 
 Hating the cardinal and beguiled by Orleans, 
 
 You know I join'd the Languedoc revolt — 
 
 Was captured — sent to the Bastile — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 But shared 
 The general pardon, which the Duke of Orleans 
 Won for himself and all in the revolt. 
 Who but obey'd his orders. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Note the phrase, 
 " Obey''d his orders.'''' Well, when on my way 
 To join the duke in Languedoc, I (then 
 The down upon my lips — less man than boy) 
 Leading young valours, reckless as myself,
 
 16 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT I. 
 
 Seized on the town of Faviaux, and displaced 
 The royal banners for the rebel. Orleans 
 (Never too daring), when I reach'd the camp, 
 Blamed me for acting — mark — ivithout his orders: 
 Upon this quibble Richelieu razed my name 
 Out of the general pardon. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Yet released you 
 From the Bastile — 
 
 DE MAUPKAT. 
 
 To call me to his presence, 
 And thus address me : " You have seized a town 
 Of France without the orders of your leader, 
 And for this treason, but one sentence — Death 
 
 » 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Death! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 ■ " I have pity on your youth and birth, 
 Nor wish to glut the headsman ; join your troop. 
 Now on the march against the Spaniards ; change 
 The traitor's scaffold for the soldier's grave ; 
 Your memory stainless, they who shared your crime 
 Exiled or dead, your king shall never learn it." 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Oh tender pity ! Oh most charming prospect ! 
 Blown nito atoms by a bomb, or drill'd 
 Into a cullender by gunshot ! WelU 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 You have heard if I fought bravely. Death became 
 Desired as Daphne by the eager Day god. 
 Like him, I chased the nymph— to grasp the laurel ! 
 I could not die ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Poor fellow ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 When the cardinal 
 lieview'd the troops, his eye met mine ; he frown'd,
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 17 
 
 Summon'd me forth. " How's this !" quoth he ; " you 
 
 have shunn'd 
 The sword, beware the axe ! 'twill fall one day !" 
 He left me thus ; we were recall'd to Paris, 
 And — you know all ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 And, knowing this, why halt you, 
 Spell'd by the rattlesnake, while in the breasts 
 Of your firm friends beat hearts, that vow the death 
 Of your grim tyrant ? Wake ! Be one of us ; 
 The time invites ; the king detests the cardinal ; 
 Dares not disgrace ; but groans to be delivered 
 Of that too great a subject ; join your friends, 
 Free France, and save yourself. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Hush ! Richelieu bears 
 A charm'd life : to all who have braved his power, 
 One common end — the block. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Nay ; if he live, 
 The block your doom ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Better the victim, count, 
 Than the assassin. France requires a Richelieu, 
 But does not need a Mauprat. Truce to this ; 
 All time one midnight, where my thoughts are spectres. 
 What to me fame 1 What love ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Yet dost thou love not ? 
 
 DB MAUPRAT. 
 
 Love 1 I am young — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 And Julie fair ! {Aside) It is so ; 
 Upon the margin of the grave, his hand 
 Would pluck the rose that I would win and wear ! 
 {Aloud)* [Thou lovest— 
 
 * That in brackets omitted in representatioo. 
 B 2
 
 J8 RICHELIEU; OR, [aCT I. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Who, lonely in the midnight tent. 
 Gazed on the watchfires in the sleepless air. 
 Nor chose one star amid the clustering hosts 
 To bless it in the name of some fair face 
 Set in his spirit, as that star in heaven? 
 For our divine affections, like the spheres, 
 Move ever, ever musical. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You speak 
 As one who fed on poetry. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Why, man. 
 The thoughts of lovers stir with poetry 
 As leaves with summer-wind. The heart that loves 
 Dwells in an Eden, hearing angel-lutes. 
 As Eve in the first garden. Hast thou seen 
 My Julie, and not felt it hencefortli dull 
 To live in the common world, and talk in words 
 That clothe the feelings of the frigid herd 1 
 Upon the perfumed pillow of her lips — 
 As on his native bed of roses flush'd 
 W'ith Paphian skies — Love smiling sleeps : her voice, 
 The bless'd interpreter of thoughts as pure 
 As virgin wells where Dian takes delight, 
 Or fairies dip their changelings ! In the maze 
 Of her harmonious beauties, modesty 
 (Like some severer grace that leads the choir 
 Of her sweet sisters), every airy motion 
 Attunes to such chaste charm, that passion holds 
 His burning breath, and will not with a sigh 
 Dissolve the spell that binds him ! Oh those eyes 
 That woo the earth, shadowing more soul than lurks 
 Under the lids of Psyche ! Go ! thy lip 
 Curls at the purfled phrases of a lover; 
 Love thou, and if thy love be deep as mine, 
 Thou wilt not laugh at poets. 
 
 BABADAS (aside). 
 
 With each word 
 Thou wak'st a jealous demon in my heart. 
 And my hand clutches at my hilt — ]
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 19 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {gayly). 
 
 No more ! 
 I love ! Your breast holds both my secrets ; never 
 Unbury either! Come, while yet we may, 
 We'll bask us in the noon of rosy life : 
 Lounge through the gardens, flaunt it in the taverns, 
 Laugh, game, drink, feast : if so confined my days, 
 Faith, I'll enclose the nights. Pshaw ! not so grave ; 
 I'm a true Frenchman ! Vice la basatelle I 
 
 ■a ' 
 
 {As they are going out, enter Huguet and four arquebu- 
 
 siers.) 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Messire de Mauprat, I arrest you I Follow 
 To the lord cardinal. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 You see, my friend, 
 Fm out of my suspense ! the tiger's play'd 
 Long enough with his prey. Farewell ! Hereafter 
 Say, when men name me, " Adrien de Mauprat 
 Lived without hope and perish'd without fear !" 
 
 \^Exeunt de Mauprat, Huguet, (^c. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Farewell ! I trust for ever ! I design'd thee 
 
 For Richelieu's murderer, but as well his martyr! 
 
 In childhood you the stronger, and I cursed you ; 
 
 In youth the fairer, and I cursed you still ; 
 
 And now my rival ! While the name of Julie 
 
 Hung on thy lips, I smiled, for then I saw 
 
 In my mind's eye the cold and grinning death 
 
 Hang o'er thy head the pall ! Ambition, love, 
 
 Ye twin-born stars of daring destinies. 
 
 Sit in my house of life ! By the king's aid 
 
 I will be Julie's husband, in despite 
 
 Of my lord cardinal. By the king's aid 
 
 I will be minister of France in spite 
 
 Of my lord cardinal ; and then, what then ■? 
 
 The king loves Julie — feeble prince — false master — 
 
 {Producing and gazing on the parchment.) 
 Then, by the aid of Bouillon and the Spaniard, 
 I will dethrone the king ; and all — ha ! ha ! 
 All, in despite of my lord cardinal. [Exit.
 
 20 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act I. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A room in the Palais Cardinal, the walls hung with arras. 
 A large screen in one corner. A table covered with books, 
 papers, <^c. A rude clock in a recess. Busts, statues, 
 bookcases, weapons of different periods, and banners sus- 
 pended over Richelieu^s chair. 
 
 Richelieu. — Joseph. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And so you think this new conspiracy 
 
 The craftiest trap yet laid for the old fox ? 
 
 Fox ! Well, I like the nickname ! What did Plutarch 
 
 Say of the Greek Lysander T 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 I forget. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 That where the lion's skin fell short, he eked it 
 Out with the fox's ! A great statesman, Joseph, 
 That same Lysander ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Orleans heads the traitors. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 A very wooden head then ! Well ? 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 The favourite, 
 Count Baradas — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 A weed of hasty growth ; 
 First gentleman of the chamber ; titles, lands, 
 And the king's ear ! it cost me six long winters 
 To mount as high, as in six little moons 
 This painted lizard — But I hold the ladder, 
 And when I shake, he falls ! What more ■? 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 A scheme 
 To make your orphan-ward an instrument 
 To aid your foes. You placed her with the queen. 
 One of the royal chamber, as a watch 
 I' th' enemy's quarters —
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 21 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And the silly child 
 Visits me daily; calls me " Father ;" prays 
 Kiud Heaven to bless me ; and for all the rest, 
 As well have placed a doll about the queen ! 
 She does not heed who frowns, who smiles ; with whom 
 The king confers in whispers ; notes not when 
 Men who last week were foes, are found in corners 
 Mysteriously affectionate ; words spoken 
 Within closed doors she never hears; by chance 
 Taking the air at keyholes. Senseless puppet! 
 No ears, nor eyes ! and yet she says " She loves me !" 
 Go on ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Your ward has charm'd the king — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Out on you ! 
 Have I not, one by one, from such fair shoots 
 Pluck'd the insidious ivy of his love ] 
 And shall it creep around my blossoming tree, 
 Where innocent thoughts, like, happy birds, make music 
 That spirits in Heaven might hear ] They're sinful too, 
 Those passionate surfeits of the rampant flesh ; 
 The church condemns them ; and to us, my Joseph, 
 The props and pillars of the church, most hurtful. 
 The king is weak ; whoever the king loves 
 Must rule the king ; the lady loves another, 
 The other rules the lady ; thus we're balked 
 Of our own proper sway. The king must have 
 No goddess but the state ; the state — that's Richelieu ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 This not the worst ; Louis, in all decorous. 
 And deeming you her least compliant guardian. 
 Would veil his suit by marriage with his minion, 
 Your prosperous foe, Count Baradas ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 I have another bride for Baradas. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 You, my lord !
 
 22 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, more faithful than the love 
 Of fickle woman : when the head lies lowhest, 
 Clasping him fondest ; sorrow never knew 
 So sure a soother, and her bed is stainless ! 
 
 JOSEPH (aside). 
 If of the grave he speaks, I do not wonder 
 That priests are bachelors ! 
 
 Enter Franqois. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Mortemar. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Most opportune ; admit her. {Exit Franqois. 
 
 In my closet 
 You'll find a rosary, Joseph ; ere you tell 
 Three hundred beads, I'll summon you. Stay, Joseph ; 
 I did omit an ave in my matins, 
 A grievous fault ; atone it for me, Joseph ; 
 There is a scourge within ; I am weak, you strong ; 
 It were but charity to take my sin 
 On such broad shoulders. Exercise is healthful. 
 
 JOSEPH. • 
 
 I ! guilty of such criminal presumption 
 
 As to mistake myself for you ! No, never ! 
 
 Think it not ! {Aside) Troth, a pleasant invitation ! 
 
 [Exit Joseph. 
 
 Enter Julie de Mortemar. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 That's my sweet Julie ! why, upon this face 
 Blushes such daybreak, one might swear the morning 
 Were come to visit Tithon. 
 
 JULIE {placing herself at his feet). 
 
 Are you gracious ? 
 May I say " Father ?" 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Now and ever !
 
 SCENE II.] THE CO>fSPIRACY. 23 
 
 JUHE. 
 
 Father ! 
 A sweet word to an orphan. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 No ; not orphan 
 While Richeheu lives ; thy father loved me well ; 
 My friend, ere I had flatterers (now I'm great, 
 In other phrase, Tm friendless) ; he died young 
 In years, not service, and bequeath'd thee to me ; 
 And thou shalt have a dowry, girl, to buy 
 Thy mate amid the mightiest. Drooping ] sighs T 
 Art thou not happy at the court ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Not often, 
 
 RICHELIEU {aside). 
 Can she love Baradas ! Ah ! at thy heart 
 There's what can smile and sigh, blush and grow pale, 
 All in a breath ! Thou art admired, art young ; 
 Does not his majesty commend thy beauty'? 
 Ask thee to sing to him 1 and swear such sounds 
 Had smooth'd the brows of Saul 1 
 
 Our worthy king. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 He's very tiresome, 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Fy ; kings are never tiresome, 
 Save to their ministers. What courtly gallants 
 Charm ladies most ? De Sourdiac, Longueville, or 
 The favourite Baradas 1 
 
 I fear and shun him. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 A smileless man ; 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Yet he courts thee 1 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Then 
 He is more tiresome than his majesty.
 
 24 RICHELIEU ; OB, [act I. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Right, girl, shun Baradas. Yet. of these flowers 
 Of France, not one in whose more honey'd breath 
 Thy heart hears summer whisper 1 
 
 Enter Huguet- 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 The Chevalier 
 De Mauprat waits below. 
 
 JULIE {starting up). 
 De Mauprat! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hem! 
 He has been tiresome too ! Anon. [Exit Huguet. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 What doth he 1 
 I mean — I — does your eminence — that is — 
 Know you Messire de Mauprat 1 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Well ! and you— - 
 Has he address'd you often ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Often ! No ; 
 Nine times ; nay, ten ; the last time by the lattice 
 Of the great staircase. {In a melancholy tone) The court 
 sees him rarely. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 A bold and forward royster ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 He ? nay, modest, 
 Gentle, and sad, methinks. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Wears gold and azure ? 
 
 J^IE. 
 
 No; sable.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 25 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 So you note his colours, Julie ? 
 Shame on you, child, look loftier. By the mass, 
 I have business with this modest gentleman. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 You're angry with poor Julie. There's no cause. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 No cause ; you hate my foes ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 I do! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hate Maupraf? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Kot Mauprat. No, not Adrien, father. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Adrien ! 
 Familiar ! Go, child ; no, not that way ; wait 
 In the tapestry chamber ; I will join you ; go. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 His brows are knit ; I dare not call him father ! 
 But I must speak. Your eminence — 
 
 RICHELIEU {sternly). 
 
 Well, girl ! 
 
 JUUE. 
 
 Nay, 
 Smile on me — one smile more ; there, now I'm happy. . 
 Do not rank Mauprat with your foes ; he is not, 
 I know he is not ; he loves France too well. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Not rank De Mauprat with my foes % So be it, 
 I'll blot him from that Hst. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 That's my own father. 
 
 [Exit Julie. 
 C
 
 26 RICHELIEU ; on, [act i. 
 
 RICHELIEU {ringing a small bell on the table) 4 
 Huguet ! 
 
 Enter Huguet. 
 De Mauprat struggled not, nor murmur'd T 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 No ; proud and passive. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Bid him enter. Hold : 
 Look that he hide no weapon. Humph, despair 
 Makes victims sometimes victors. When he has enter'd,- 
 Glide round unseen ; place thyself yonder {pointing tc 
 
 the screen) ; watch him ; 
 If he show violence (let me see thy carbine ; 
 So, a good weapon) ; if he play the Hon, 
 Why. the dog's death. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 I never miss my mark. 
 
 [Exit Huguet ; Richelieu seats himself at the table; 
 and slawly arranges the papers before him. Enter 
 De Mauprat, preceded by Huguet, loho then retires 
 behind the screen. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Approach, sir. Can you call to mind the hour. 
 Now three years since, when in this room, methinks^ 
 Your presence honour'd me ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 It is, my lord, 
 One of my most — 
 
 RICHELIEU {dryly). 
 Dehghtful recollections.* 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {aside). 
 
 St. Denis ! doth he make a jest of axe 
 
 * There are many anecdotes of the irony, often so terrible, in which 
 Richelieu indulged. But he had a love for humour in its more hear- 
 ty and genial shape. He would send for Boisrobert " to make him 
 laugh," and grave ministers and magnates wailed in the anteroom, 
 while the great cardinal listened and responded to the sallies of the 
 lively wit.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 27 
 
 And headsman ^ 
 
 RICHELIEU {sternly). 
 I did then accord you 
 A mercy ill requited — you still live \ 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 To meet death face to face at last.* 
 
 [RICHELIEU. 
 
 Your words 
 Are bold. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 My deeds have not belied them. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Deeds ! 
 Oh! miserable delusion of man's pride ! 
 Deeds ! cities sack'd, fields ravaged, hearths profaned, 
 Men butcher'd. In your hour of doom behold 
 The deeds you boast of! From rank showers of blood, 
 And the red light of blazing roofs, you build 
 The rainbow glory, and to shuddering conscience 
 Cry, Lo, the bridge to Heaven ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 If war be sinful, 
 Your hand the gauntlet cast. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 It was so, sir. 
 Note the distinction : I weigh'd well the cause 
 Which made the standard holy ; raised the war 
 But to secure the peace. France bled, I groan'd; 
 But look'd beyond, and, in the vista, saw 
 France saved, and I exulted. You — but you 
 Were but the tool of slaughter, knowing naught. 
 Foreseeing naught, naught hoping, naught lamenting, 
 And for naught fit, save cutting throats for hire. 
 Deeds, marry, deeds ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 If you would deign to speak 
 Thus to your armies ere they march to battle, 
 
 t That in brackets omitted in representation,
 
 28 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act 1. 
 
 Perchance your eminence might have the pain 
 Of the throat-cutting to yourself. 
 
 RICHELIEU {aside). 
 
 He lias wit, 
 This Mauprat. {Aloud) Let it pass ; there is against 
 
 you 
 What you can less excuse. Messire de Mauprat,] 
 Doom'd to sure death, how hast thou since consumed 
 The time allotted thee for serious thought 
 And solemn penitence 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {embarrossed). 
 
 The time, my lord 1 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Is not the question plain ^ I'll answer for thee. 
 
 Thou hast sought nor priest nor shrine ; no sackcloth 
 
 chafed 
 Thy delicate flesh. The rosary and the death's-head 
 Have not, with pious meditation, purged 
 Earth from the carnal gaze. What thou hast not done, 
 Brief told ; what done, a volume ! Wild debauch. 
 Turbulent riot : for the morn the dicebox. 
 Noon claimed the duel, and the night the wassail ; 
 These, your most holy, pure preparatives 
 For death and judgment. Do 1 wrong you, sir 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I was not always thus ; if changed my nature. 
 Blame that which changed my fate. Alas, my lord, 
 [There is a brotherhood which calm-eyed Reason* 
 Can wot not of between despair and mirth. 
 My birthplace mid the vines of sunny Provence, 
 Perchance the stream that sparkles in my veins 
 Came from that wine of passionate life which erst 
 Glowed in the wild heart of the Troubadour : 
 And danger, which makes steadier courage wary, 
 But fevers me with an insane delight ; 
 As one of old who on the mountain-crags 
 Caught madness from a IMtcnad's haunting eyes. 
 Were you, my lord-— whose path imperial power, 
 And the grave cares of reverent wisdom guard 
 From all that tempts to folly meaner men—] 
 
 ♦ That in brackets omitted in representation.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 29 
 
 Were you accursed with that which you inflicted, 
 By bed and board dogg'd by one ghastly spectre, 
 The while within you youth beat high, and hfe 
 Grew lovelier from the neighbouring frown of death, 
 The heart no bud, nor fruit, save in those seeds 
 Most worthless, which spring up, bloom, bear, and wither 
 In the same liour. Were this your fate, perchance 
 You would have err'd like rae ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I might, like you, 
 Have been a brawler and a reveller ; not, 
 Like you, a trickster and a thief. 
 
 DE MAUPBAT {advancing threateningly). 
 
 ^ Lord cardinal ! 
 
 Unsay those words ! 
 
 {Huguet deliberately raises the carbine.) 
 
 RICHELIEU (waving his hand). 
 
 Not quite so quick, friend Huguet ; 
 Messire de Mauprat is a patient man, . 
 And he can wait ! 
 
 You have outrun your fortune ; 
 I blame you not, that you would be a beggar ; 
 Each to his taste ! But I do charge you, sir. 
 That, being beggar'd, you would coin false moneys 
 Out of that crucible called debt. To live 
 On means not yours ; be brave in silks and laces. 
 Gallant in steeds, splendid in banquets ; all 
 Not yours, ungiven, uninhcrited, unpaid for ; 
 This is to be a trickster, and to filch 
 Men's art and labour, which to them is wealth, 
 Life, daily bread ; quitting all scores with, " Friend, 
 You're troublesome !" Why this, forgive me, 
 Is what, when done with a less dainty grace, 
 Plain folks call " Theft .'" You owe eight thousand 
 
 pistoles. 
 Minus one crown, two liards I 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {aside). 
 
 The old conjuror ! 
 'Sdeath, he'll inform me next how many cups 
 I drank at dinner ! 
 
 C2
 
 30 RICHELIEU ; OB, [aCT 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 This is scandalous, 
 Shaming your birth and blood. I tell you, sir, 
 That you must pay your debts. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 With all my heart, 
 My lord. Where shall I borrow, then, the money ? 
 
 RICHELIEU {aside and laughing). 
 A humorous daredevil ! The very man 
 To suit my purpose; ready, frank, and bold! 
 
 {Rising, and earnestly.) 
 Adrien de Mauprat, men have called me cruel ; 
 I am not ; I am just ! I found France rent asunder ; 
 The rich men despots, and the poor banditti ; 
 Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple ; 
 Brawls festering to rebellion, and weak laws 
 Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. 
 I have recreated France ; and, from the ashes 
 Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass. 
 Civilization on her luminous wings 
 Soars, phognix-like, to Jove ! What was my art^ 
 Genius, some say ; some, fortune ; witchcraft some. 
 Not so ; my art was Justice ! Force and fraud 
 Misname it cruelty ; you shall confute them ! 
 My champion you ! You met me as your foe. 
 Depart my friend ; you shall not die. France needs 
 
 you. 
 You shall wipe off all stains ; be rich, be honour'd, 
 Be great. 
 
 {De Mauprat falls on his knee ; Richelieu raises him. 
 I ask, sir, in return, this hand. 
 To gift it with a bride, whose dower shall match, 
 Yet not exceed, her beauty. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I, my lord {hesitating), 
 I have no wish to marry. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Surely, sir, 
 To die were worse.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 31 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Scarcely ; the poorest coward 
 Must die ; but knowingly to march to marriage — 
 My lord, it asks the courage of a lion ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Traitor, thou triflest with me ! I know all! 
 Thou hast dared to love my ward, my charge. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 As rivers 
 May love the sunlight, basking in the beams, 
 And hurrying on ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Thou hast told her of thy love T 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 My lord, if 1 had dared to love a maid, 
 
 Lowliest in France, I would not so have wrong'd her 
 
 As bid her link rich life and virgin hope 
 
 With one, the deathman's gripe might from her side 
 
 Pluck at the nuptial altar. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I believe thee ; 
 Yet since she knows not of thy love, renounce her ; 
 Take life and fortune with another ! Silent ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Your fate has been one triumph. You know not 
 How bless'd a thing it was in my dark hour 
 To nurse the one sweet thought you bid me banish. 
 Love hath no need of words ; nor less within 
 That hohest temple, the heaven-builded soul. 
 Breathes the recorded vow. Base knight, false lover 
 Were he, who barter'd all that brighten'd grief, 
 Or sanctified despair, for life and gold. 
 Revoke your mercy ; I prefer the fate 
 I look'd for ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Huguet ! to the tapestry chamber 
 Conduct your prisoner.
 
 32 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act I. 
 
 (To Mauprat.) 
 You will there behold 
 The executioner : your doom be private ; 
 And Heaven have mercy on you ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 When I'm dead, 
 Tell her I loved her. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Keep such follies, sir, 
 For fitter ears ; go. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Does he mock me ] 
 
 {Exeunt de Mauprat, Huguet. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Joseph, 
 
 Come forth. 
 
 Enter Joseph. 
 Methinks your cheek hath lost its rubies ; 
 I fear you have been too lavish of the flesh; 
 The scourge is heavy. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Pray you, change the subject. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 You good men are so modest ! Well, to business ! 
 Go instantly — deeds — notaries ! bid my stewards 
 Arrange my house by the Luxembourg ; my house 
 No more ! a bridal present to my ward, 
 Who weds to-morrow. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Weds, with whom ? 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 De Mauprat 
 
 JOSEPH, 
 
 Penniless husband ! * 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Bah ! the mate for beauty
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 33 
 
 Should be a man, and not a money-chest ! 
 
 When her brave sire lay on his bed of death, 
 
 I vow'd to be a father to his Julie : 
 
 And so he died, the smile upon his lips ! 
 
 And when I spared the life of her young lover, 
 
 Methought I saw that smile again ! Who else, 
 
 Look you, in all the court — who else so well, 
 
 Brave, or supplant the favourite ; balk the king, 
 
 BafBe their schemes ? I have tried him ; he has honour 
 
 And courage ; qualities that eagle-plume 
 
 Men's souls, and fit them for the fiercest sun, 
 
 Which ever melted the weak waxen minds 
 
 That flutter in the beams of gaudy power ! 
 
 Besides, he has taste, this Mauprat : when my play 
 
 Was acted to dull tiers of lifeless gapers,* 
 
 Who had no soul for poetry, I saw him 
 
 Applaud in the proper places : trust me, Joseph, 
 
 He is a man of an uncommon promise ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 And yet your foe. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Have I not foes enow 1 
 Great men gain doubly when they make foes friends. 
 Remember ray grand maxims : first employ 
 All methods to conciliate. f 
 
 * The Abbe Arnaud tells us that the queen was a little avenged 
 on the cardinal by the ill success of the tragi-comedy of Mirame, 
 more than suspected to be his own, though presented to the world 
 under the foster name of Desmarets. Its representation (says Pelis- 
 son) cost him 300,000 crowns. He was so transported out of himself 
 by the performance, that at one time he thrust his person half out of 
 his box to show himself to the assembly ; at another time he imposed 
 silence on the audience that they might not lose " des endroits encore 
 plus beaux .'" He said afterward to Desmarets, " Eh bien, les Fran- 
 <;ais n'auronl done jamais de goiit. lis n'ont pas ete charmes de Mi- 
 rame !" Arnaud says pithily, " On ne pouvoit alors avoir d'autre sat- 
 isfaction des offenses d'un homme qui etoit maitre de tout et redout- 
 able a tout le monde." Nevertheless, his style in prose, though not 
 devoid of the pedantic affectations of the time, often rises into very 
 noble eloquence. 
 
 + " Vialart remarque une chose qui pent expliquer la conduite de 
 Richelieu en d'autres circonstances : c'est que les seigneurs a. qui 
 leur naissanoe ou leur merite pouvoit permettre des pretensions, il 
 avoit pour syst^me, de leur accorder au-dela, m^me de leurs droits et 
 de leurs esperances, mais, aussi, une fois combles ; si, au lieu de re- 
 connoitre ses services its se levoient contre lui, il les traitoit sans
 
 34 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act I. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Failing these ? 
 RICHELIEU {fiercely). 
 
 All means to crush : as with the opening iind 
 The clinching of this little hand, 1 will 
 Crush the small venom of these stinging courtiers. 
 So, so, we've baffled Baradas. * 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 And when 
 Check the conspiracy ? 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Check, check ? Full way to it. 
 Let it bud, ripen, flaunt i' the day, and burst 
 To fruit, the Dead Sea's fruit of ashes ; ashes 
 Which 1 will scatter to the winds. 
 
 Go, Joseph : 
 When you return, I have a feast for you ; 
 The last great act of my great play : the verses, 
 Methinks, are fine, ah, very fine. You write 
 Verses !* (aside) such verses ! You have wit, discern- 
 ment. 
 
 JOSEPH (aside). 
 
 Worse than the scourge ! Strange that so great a states^ 
 
 man 
 Should be so bad a poet. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 What dost say 1 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 That it is strange so great a statesman should 
 Be so sublime a poet, 
 
 mis^ricorde." — Anqueiil. See also the Political Testament, and the 
 M^moires de Cardinal Richelieu, in Pelitot's collection. 
 
 * •' Tantotfanatique— tantiJt fourbe — fonder les religieuses de Cal- 
 vaire— /air des vers." Thus speaks Voltaire of Father Joseph. His 
 talents and influence with Richelieu, grossly exaggerated in his own 
 day, are now rightly estimated. 
 
 " C'etoit en eil'et un homme indefatigable ; portant dans les entre- 
 prises, I'activito, la souplesse, Topini^trete propresa les faire r^ussir." 
 — A-iiquiiil. Ho wrote a Latin poem, called "La Turciade," in 
 which he sought to excite the kingdoms of Christendom against the 
 Turks. But the inspiration of Tyrtaeus was denied to Father Joseph.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 35 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ah, you rogue ; 
 Laws die, books never. Of my ministry 
 I am not vain ! but of my muse, I own it. 
 Come, you shall hear the verses now {takes up a MS.). 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 My lord, 
 The deeds, the notaries ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 True, I pity you ; 
 But business first, then pleasure. [Exit Joseph. 
 
 RICHELIEU {seats himself and reading). 
 
 Ah, sublime ! 
 
 Enter De Mauprat and Julie. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh, speak, ray lord, I dare not think you mock me, 
 And yet — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hush, hush. This line must be considered ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Are we not both your children ? 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 What a couplet ! 
 How now ! Oh ! sir, you live ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Why, no, methinks 
 Elysium is not life ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 He smiles ! you smile, 
 My father ! From my heart for ever, now, 
 I'll blot the name of orphan ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Rise, my children, 
 For ye are mine — mine both ; and in your sweet
 
 36 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act I. 
 
 And young delight, your love (life's firstborn glory), 
 My own lost youth breathes musical .' 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I'll seek 
 Temple and priest henceforward, were it but 
 To learn Heaven's choicest blessings. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Thou shalt seek 
 Temple and priest right soon ; the morrow's sun 
 Shall see across those barren thresholds pass 
 The fairest bride in Paris. Go, my children ; 
 Even / loved once ! Be lovers while ye may ! 
 How is it with you, sir ] You bear it bravely : 
 You know, it asks the courage of a lion. 
 
 [Exeunt Julie and De Maupraf^ 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Oh ! godlike power ! Wo, rapture, penury, wealth, 
 Marriage and death, for one infirm old man 
 Through a great empire to dispense — withhold — 
 As the will whispers ! And shall things, like motes 
 That live in my dayhght ; lackeys of court wages. 
 Dwarf 'd starvelings, mannikins, upon whose shoulders 
 The burden of a province were a load 
 More heavy than the globe on Atlas, cast 
 Lots for my robes and sceptre ] France ! T love thee ! 
 All earth shall never pluck thee from my heart ! 
 My mistress France, my wedded wife, sweet France, 
 Who shall proclaim divorce for thee and me ! 
 
 [£xit Richelieu.
 
 ACT II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 37 
 
 ACT 11, 
 
 Sbecontr 3DaS' 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A splendid apartment in Mauprafs new house. Casements 
 opening to the gardens, beyond which the domes of the 
 Luxembourg Palace. 
 
 Enter Baradas. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Mauprat's new home : too splendid for a soldier ! 
 
 But o'er his floors — the while I stalk — methinks 
 
 My shadow spreads gigantic to the gloom 
 
 The old rude towers of the Bastile cast far 
 
 Along the smoothness of the jocund day. 
 
 Well, thou hast 'scaped the fierce caprice of Richelieu; 
 
 But art thou farther from the headsman, fooU 
 
 Thy secret I have whisper'd to the king ; 
 
 Thy marriage makes the king thy foe. Thou stand'st «> 
 
 On the abyss ; and in the pool below 
 
 I see a ghastly, headless phantom mirror'd ; 
 
 Thy likeness ere the marriage moon hath waned. 
 
 Meanwhile — meanwhile — ha ! ha I if thou art wedded, 
 
 Thou art not wived. 
 
 Enter Mauprat {splendidly dressed). 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Was ever fate like mine % 
 So bless'd and yet so wretched ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Joy, De Mauprat ! 
 Why, what a brow, man, for your wedding-day T 
 
 D-E MAUPRAT. 
 
 Jest not ! Distraction ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 What, your wife a shrew 
 Already ■? Courage, man — the common lot ! 
 
 D
 
 38 RICIIETLIEU ; OR, [act II. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh ! that she were less lovely or less loved ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Riddles again ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 You know what chanced between 
 The cardinal and myself. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 This morning brought 
 Your letter : faith, a strange account ! 1 laugh'd 
 And wept at once for gladness. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 We were wed 
 At noon; the rite performed, came hither; scarce 
 Arrived, when — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Wein 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Wide flew the doors, and lo,- 
 Messire de Beringhen, and this epistle I 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 'Tis the king's hand ! the royal seal ! 
 
 DE WAUPRAT. 
 
 Read — read — 
 RARADAS {reading). 
 
 " Whereas Adrien de Mauprat, colonel and chevalier 
 in our armies, being already guilty of high treason by 
 the seizure of our town of Faviaux, has presumed, with- 
 out our knowledge, consent, or sanction, to connect 
 himself by marriage with Julie de Morteniar, a M^ealthy 
 orphan attached to the person of her majesty, without 
 our knowledge or consent — We do hereby proclaim said 
 marriage contrary to law. On penalty of death, Adrien 
 de Mauprat will not communicate with the said .Julie 
 de Morteniar by word or letter, save in the presence of 
 our faithful servant the Sieur de Beringhen, and then 
 w^ith such respect and decorum as are due to a demoi-
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 39 
 
 selle attached to the court of France, until such time as 
 it may suit our royal pleasure to confer with the Holy 
 Church on the formal annulment of the marriage, and 
 with our council on the punishment to be awarded to 
 Messire de Mauprat, who is cautioned for his own sake 
 to preserve silence as to our injunction, more especial- 
 ly to Mademoiselle de Mortemar. 
 
 " Given under our hand and seal at the Louvre. 
 
 " LOUIS." 
 
 BARADAS {reluming the letter). 
 
 Amazement ! Did not Richelieu say, the king 
 Knew not your crime 1 
 
 DE MAUPBAT. 
 
 He said so. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Poor De Mauprat ! 
 See you the snare, the vengeance worse than death. 
 Of which you are the victim 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT, 
 
 Ha! 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 
 It works ! 
 
 (Julie and De Beringhen in the gardens.) 
 
 You have not sought the cardinal yet to — 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 No! 
 Scarce yet my sense awaken'd from the shock ; 
 Now I will seek him. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Hold, beware ! Stir not 
 Till we confer again. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Speak out, man ! 
 
 BARADAS, 
 
 Hush ! 
 Your wife ! De Beringhen ! Be on your guard ; 
 Obey the royal orders to the letter.
 
 40 RICHELIEU ; or, [act ii. 
 
 I'll look around your palace. By my troth, 
 A princely mansion ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Stay— 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 So new a bridegroom 
 Can want no visiters. Your servant, madam ! 
 Oh, happy pair ! oh, charming picture ! 
 
 [Exit through a side-door. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Adrien, 
 You left us suddenly. Are you not well 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh, very well ; that is, extremely ill ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Ill, Adrien 1 {taking his hand). 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Not when I see thee. 
 
 {He is about to lift her hand to his lips when De Berin- 
 ghen coughs and pulls his mantle. Mauprat drops 
 the hand and walks away.) 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Alas ! 
 Should he not love me •? 
 
 DE BERINGHEN {aside). 
 
 Have a care ; I must 
 Report each word, each gesture to his majesty. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Sir, if you were not in his majesty's service, 
 You'd be the most officious, impudent, 
 Damn'd busybody ever interfering 
 In a man's family affairs. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 But as 
 I do belong, sir, to his majesty—
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 41 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 You're lucky ! Still, were we a story higher, 
 'Twere prudent not to go too near the window. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Adrien, what have I done 1 Say, am I changed 
 Since yesterday I Or was it but for wealth, 
 Ambition, life — that — that — you swore you loved me T 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I shall go mad ! I do, indeed I do-^ 
 
 DE BERINGHEN (aside). 
 
 Not love her ! that were highly disrespectful. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 You do — what, Adrien 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh ! I do, indeed — 
 I do think that this weather is delightful ! 
 A charming day ! the sky is so serene ! 
 And what a prospect ! {to De Beringhen) Oh ! you 
 popinjay! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 He jests at me ! he mocks me ! yet I love him, 
 And every look becomes the lips we love I 
 Perhaps I am too grave T You laugh at Juhe ; 
 If laughter please you, welcome be the, music! 
 Only say, Adrien, that you love me. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT (Jiisstng her hand). 
 
 Ay; 
 With my whole heart I love you ! 
 
 Now, sir, go, 
 And tell that to his majesty ! Who ever 
 Heard of its being a state offence to kiss 
 The hand of one's own wife 1 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 He says he loves me, 
 And starts away, as if to say " I love you" 
 Meant something very dreadful. Come, sit by me ; 
 I place your chair ! fy on your gallantry ! 
 
 D2
 
 42 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act II. 
 
 ( They sit down ; as he pushes his chair back, she draws 
 
 he IS nearer.) 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Why must this strange Messire de Beringhen 
 Be always here 1 He never takes a hint. 
 Do you not wish him gone 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Upon my soul 
 I do, my Julie ! Send him for your bouquet, 
 Your glove, your anything. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Messire de Beringhen, 
 I dropp'd my glove in the gardens by the fountain, 
 Or the alcove, or — stay — no, by the statue 
 Of Cupid ; may I ask you to — 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 To send for it 1 
 Certainly (ringing a bell on the table). Andre, Pierre 
 
 (your rascals, how 
 Do ye call them 1) 
 
 Enter servants. 
 Ah — madame has dropp'd her glove 
 In the gardens, by the fountain, or the alcove ; 
 Or — stay— no, by the statue — eh ! of Cupid. 
 Bring it. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Did ever now one pair of shoulders 
 Carry such wagon-loads of impudence 
 Into a gentleman's drawing-room ? 
 
 Dear Julie, 
 I'm busy — letters — visiters — the devil ! 
 I do beseech you leave me ; I say, leave me. 
 
 JULIE {weeping). 
 You are unkind. 
 
 [Exit. {As she goes out, Mauprat drops on one knee 
 and hisses the hem of her mantle, unseen by her.) 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Ten million of apologies —
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 48 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I'll not take one of them. I have, as yet, 
 Withstood all things ; my heart, my love, my rights. 
 But Julie's tears ! When is this farce to end ^ 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Oh ! when you please. His majesty requests me, 
 As soon as you infringe his gracious orders, 
 To introduce you to the governor 
 Of the Bastile. I should have had that honour 
 Before, but, gad, my foible is good nature ; 
 One can't be hard upon a friend's infirmities. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I know the king can send me to the scaffold ; 
 Dark prospect ! but I'm used to it ; and if 
 The church and council, by this hour to-morrow, 
 One way or other settle not the matter, 
 I will— 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 What, my dear sir 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Show you the door, 
 My dear, dear sir ; talk as I please, with whom 
 I please, in my own house, dear sir, until 
 His majesty shall condescend to find 
 A stouter gentleman than you, dear sir, 
 To take me out ; and now you understand me, 
 My dear, most dear, oh, damnably dear sir! 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 What, almost in a passion ! you will cool 
 Upon reflection. Well, since madame's absent, 
 I'll take a small refreshment. Now, don't stir ; 
 Be careful ; how's your Burgundy ■? I'll taste it ; 
 Finish it all before I leave you. Nay, 
 No form ; you see I make myself at home. 
 
 {Eocit De Beringhen. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {going to the door through which Baradas had 
 
 passed), 
 
 Baradas! count!
 
 44 RICHELIEU : OR, [act II. 
 
 Enter Baradas. 
 You spoke of snares, of vengeance 
 Sharper than death ; be plainer. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 What so clear 1 
 Richelieu has but two passions — 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Richeheu ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Yes! 
 Ambiton and revenge ; in you both blended. 
 First for ambition : Julie is his ward ; 
 Innocent, docile, pliant to his will, 
 He placed her at the court, foresaw the rest : 
 The king loves Julie ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Merciful Heavpn ! The king ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Such Cupids lend new plumes to Richelieu's wings : 
 
 But the court etiquette must give such Cupids 
 
 The veil of Hymen (Hymen but in name). 
 
 He look'd abroad, found you his foe : thus served 
 
 Ambition by the grandeur of his ward. 
 
 And vengeance by dishonour to his foe ! 
 
 PE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Prove this. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You have the proof, the royal letter : 
 Your strange exemption from the general pardon, 
 Known but to me and Richelieu ; can you doubt 
 Your friend to acquit your foe ■? The truth is glaring; 
 Richelieu alone could tell the princely lover 
 The tale which sells your Ufe, or buys your honour! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I see it all ! Mock pardon, hurried nuptials, 
 False bounty ! all ! the serpent of that srnile ! 
 Oh ! it stings home I
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 4* 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You yet shall crush his malice ; 
 Our plans are sure : Orleans is at our head ; 
 We meet to-nigiit ; join us, and with us triumph. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 To-night? Oh Heaven! my marriage night ! Revenge! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 What class of men, whose white lips do not curse* 
 
 [The grim, insatiate, universal tyrant ? 
 
 We, noble-born, where are our antique rights, 
 
 Our feudal seignories, out castled strength. 
 
 That did divide us from the base plebeians. 
 
 And made our swords our law f where are they 1 trod 
 
 To dust ; and o'er the graves of our dead power 
 
 Scaflfolds are monuments ; the kingly house 
 
 Shorn of its beams, the royal sun of France 
 
 'Clipsed by this blood-red comet. Where we turn, 
 
 Nothing but Richelieu ! Armies, church, state, laws, 
 
 But mirrors that do multiply his beams. 
 
 He sees all, acts all — Argus and Briaraeus — 
 
 Spy at our boards, and deathsman at our hearths, 
 
 Under the venom of one laidley nightshade, 
 
 Wither the lilies of all France. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {impatiently). 
 But Julie — 
 
 BARADAS {unheeding him). 
 
 As yet the fiend that serves hath saved his power 
 From every snare ; and in the epitaphs 
 Of many victims dwells a warning moral 
 That preaches caution. Were I not assured 
 That what before was hope is ripen'd now 
 Into most certain safety, trust me, Mauprat, 
 I still could hush my hate and mark thy wrongs, 
 And say " Be patient !" Now the king himself 
 Smiles kindly when I tell him that his peers 
 Will rid him of his priest. You knit your brows, 
 Noble impatience ! Pass we to our scheme !] 
 'Tis Richelieu's wont, each morn, within liis chapel 
 (Hypocrite worship ended), to dispense 
 
 * That in brackets omitted in represeulatio*.
 
 46 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act II. 
 
 Alms to the mendicant friars ; in that guise 
 A band (yourself the leader) sliall surround 
 And seize the despot. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 But the king 1 but Juhe ? 
 
 EARADAS. 
 
 The king, infirm in health, in mind more feeble, 
 
 Is but the plaything of a minister's will. 
 
 Were Richelieu dead, his power were mine ; and Louis 
 
 Soon should forget his passion and your crime. 
 
 But whither now 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I know not ; I scarce hear thee ; 
 A little while for thought : anon I'll join thee; 
 But now, all air seems tainted, and I loathe 
 The face of man ! 
 
 [Eocit De Mauprat through the gardens. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Start from the chase, my prey, 
 But as thou speed'st the hell-hounds of revenge 
 Pant in thy track and dog thee down. 
 
 Enter De Beringhen, his mouth full, a napkin in his hand. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Chevalier, 
 Your cook's a miracle ; what, my host gone 1 
 Faith, count, my office is a post of danger ; 
 A fiery fellow, Mauprat ! touch and go, 
 Match and saltpetre, pr — r — r— r ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You 
 
 Will be released ere long. The king resolves 
 To call the bride to court this day. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Poor Mauprat ! 
 Yet, since ijou love the lady, why so careless 
 Of the king's suit ? 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Because the lady's virtuous, 
 And the king timid. Ere he win the suit
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 47 
 
 He'll lose ihe crown, the bride will be a widow. 
 And I — the Richelieu of the Regent Orleans. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 is Louis still so chafed against the fox 
 
 For snatching yon fair dainty from the lion 1 
 
 BARADAS. • 
 
 So chafed, that Richelieu totters. Yes, the king 
 Is half a conspirator against the cardinal. 
 Enough of this. IVe found the man we wanted ; 
 The man to head the hands that murder Richelieu ; 
 The man, whose name the synonyme for daring. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 He must mean me ! No, count, I am, I own, 
 A valiant dog ; but still — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Whom can I mean 
 But Mauprat ? Mark ; to-night we meet at Marion's , 
 There shall we sign : thence send this scroll {showing it) 
 
 to Bouillon. 
 You're in that secret {affectionately), one of our new 
 
 council. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 But to admit the Spaniard — France's foe — 
 Into the heart of France, dethrone the king; . 
 It looks like treason, and I smell the headsman. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Oh, sir, too late to falter : when we meet 
 
 We must arrange the separate, coarser scheme. 
 
 For Richelieu's death. Of this despatch De Mauprat 
 
 Must nothing learn.' He only bites at vengeance. 
 
 And he would start from treason. We must post him 
 
 Without the door at Marion's, as a sentry. 
 
 {Aside) So, Avhen his head is on the block, his tongue 
 
 Camiot betray our more august designs ! 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 I'll meet you, if the king can spare me. {Aside) No! 
 I am too old a goose to play with foxes ; 
 I'll roost at home. Meanwhile, in the next room 
 There's a delicious pate ; let's discuss it.
 
 48 RICHELIEU; OR, [act II. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Pshaw ! a man fiU'd with a sublime ambition 
 Has no time to discuss your pates. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Pshaw ! 
 And a man filled with as sublime a pate 
 Has no time to discuss ambition. Gad, 
 I have the best of it ! 
 
 {Enter Julie hastily with first courtier.) 
 
 JULIE {to courtier), 
 
 A summons, sir, 
 To attend the Louvre ? On this day, too ? 
 
 COURTIER. 
 
 Madame, 
 The royal carriage waits below. Messire {to De Serin- 
 
 ghen), 
 You will return with us. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 What can this mean ? 
 Where is my husband 1 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 He has left the house 
 Perhaps till nightfall ; so he bade me tell you. 
 Alas ! were I the lord of such fair treasure — 
 
 JULIE {impatiently). 
 Till nightfall 1 Strange ; my heart misgives me ! 
 
 COURTIER. 
 
 Madame, 
 My orders will not brook delay. 
 
 JULIE {to Baradas). 
 
 You'll see him, 
 And you will tell him ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 From the flowers of Hybla 
 Never more gladly did the bee bear honey, 
 Than I take sweetness from those rosiest lips, 
 Though to the hive of others !
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACV. 49 
 
 COURTIER {to De Beringhen). 
 
 Come, messire. 
 DE BERINGHEN (hesitating). 
 One moment, just to — 
 
 COURTIER. 
 
 Come, sir. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 I shall not 
 Discuss the pate after all. 'Ecod, 
 I'm puzzled now. I don't know who's the best of it ! 
 [Exeunt Julie, De Beringhen, and courtier. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Now will this fire his fever into madness ! 
 
 All is made clear ; Mauprat ynust murder Richelieu ; 
 
 Die for that crime : I shall console his Julie. 
 
 This will reach Bouillon ! from the wrecks of France 
 
 I shall carve out, who knows, perchance a throne ! 
 
 All in despite of my lord cardinal. 
 
 Enter De Mauprat from the gardens. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 speak ! can it be ■? Methought that from the terrace 
 I saw the carriage of the king — and Juhe ! 
 No ! no ! my phrensy peoples the void air 
 With its own phantoms ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Nay, too true. Alas ! 
 Was ever lightning swifter or more blasting. 
 Than RicheUeu's forked guile T 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I'll to the Louvre — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 And lose all hope ! The Louvre ! the sure gate 
 To the Bastile ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 The king— 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Is but the wax, 
 E
 
 50 RICHELIEU ; or, [act ii 
 
 Which Richelieu stamps ! Break the malignant seal. 
 And I will rase the print! Come, man, take heart ! 
 Her virtue well could brave a sterner trial 
 Than a lew hours of cold imperious courtship. 
 Were RicheUeu dust — no danger ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Ghastly Vengeance ! 
 To thee and thine august and solemn sister, 
 The unrelenting Death ! I dedicate 
 The blood of Armand Richelieu ! When dishonour 
 Reaches our hearths, law dies, and murder takes 
 The angel shape of justice ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Bravely said ! 
 At midnight — Marion's ! Nay, I cannot leave thee 
 To thoughts that — 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Speak not to me ! I am yours ! 
 But speak not ! There's a voice within my soul, 
 Whose cry could drown the thunder. Oh! if men 
 Will play dark sorcery with the heart of man. 
 Let them who raise the spell, beware the fiend ! 
 
 • {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A room in the Palais Cardinal {as in the First Act). 
 
 Richelieu. Joseph. 
 
 Franqois, writing at a table. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Yes ; Fluguet, taking his accustom'd round, 
 Disguised as some plain burgher, heard these rufHers 
 Quoting your name : he listen'd : " Pshaw," said one, 
 " We are to seize the cardinal in his palace 
 To-morrow !" " How V the other ask'd. " You'll hear 
 The whole design to-night ; the Duke of Orleans
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 51 
 
 And Baradas have got the map of action 
 
 At their fingers' end." " So be it," quoth the other; 
 
 " I will be there — Marion de Lorme's — at midnight !" 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I have them, man, I have them ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 So they say 
 Of you, my lord ; beheve me, that their plans 
 Are mightier than you deem. You must employ 
 Means no less vast to meet them ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Bah ! in policy 
 We foil gigantic danger, not by giants, 
 But dwarfs. The statues of our stately fortune 
 Are sculptured by the chisel, not the axe !* 
 Ah ! were I younger, by the knightly heart 
 That beats beneath these priestly robes,t I would 
 Have pastime with these cutthroats ! Yea, as when, 
 Lured to the ambush of the expecting foe, 
 1 clove my path through the plumed sea! 
 Reach me yon falchion, Francois ; not that bawble 
 For carpet-warriors ; j^onder, such a blade 
 As old Charles Martel might have wielded when 
 He drove the Saracen from F;ance. 
 
 * Richelieu not only employed the lowest, but would often consult 
 men commonly esteemed the dullest. " II disoit que dans des choses 
 de Uhs grande importance, il avait experimente, que les moms sages 
 donnoient sOuvent les meilleurs exp^dicns." — Le Cterc. 
 
 t Both Richelieu and Joseph were originally intended for the pro- 
 fession of arms. Joseph had served before he obeyed the spiritual 
 inspiration to become a Capuchin. The death of his brother opened 
 to Richelieu the bishopric of Lu(;on ; but his military propensities 
 were as strong as his priestly ambition. I need scarcely add that 
 the cardinal, during his brilliant campaign in Italy, marched at the 
 head of his troops in complete armour. It was under his adminis- 
 tration that occurs the last example of proclaiming war by the chiv- 
 alric defiance of herald and cartel. Richelieu valued himself much 
 on his personal activity, for his vanity was as universal as his ambi- 
 tion. A nobleman of the house of Grammont one day found him 
 employed in jumping, and, with all the savoir vivre of a Frenchman 
 and a courtier, oft'ered to jump against him. He suffered the cardi- 
 nal to jump higher, and soon after found himself rewarded by an ap- 
 pointment. Yet, strangely enough, this vanity did not lead to a pat- 
 ronage injurious to the state ; fur never before in France was ability 
 made so essential a requisite in promotion. He was lucky in finding 
 the cleverest fellows among his adroitest flatterers.
 
 62 RICHELIEU; OR, [act II. 
 
 {Frangots brings him one of the long two-handed swords 
 worn in the Middle Ages.) 
 
 With this 
 I, at Roclielle, did hand to hand engage 
 The stalwart Enghsher; no mongrels, boy, 
 Those island mastiffs ; mark the notch— a deep one— 
 His casque made here. I shore him to the waist! 
 A toy, a feather, then ! 
 
 {Tries to wield, and lets it fall.) 
 You see a child could 
 Slay Richelieu now. 
 
 FRANCOIS {his hand on his hilt). 
 But now, at your command 
 Are other weapons, my good lord. 
 RICHELIEU {who hos Seated himself as to write, lifts the pen). 
 
 True, THIS ! 
 Beneath the rule of men entirely great 
 The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold 
 The arch-enchanter's wand ! itself a nothing ! 
 But taking sorcery from the master-hand 
 To paralyze the Caesars, and to strike 
 The loud earth breathless ! Take away the sword ; 
 States can be saved without it ! 
 
 {Looking on the clock.) 
 
 'Tis the hour ; 
 Retire, sir. {Exit Franqois 
 
 {A knock is heard. A door, concealed in the arras, opens 
 cautiously. Enter Marion de Lorme.) 
 
 JOSEPH {amazed). 
 Marion de Lorme ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hist ! Joseph, 
 Keep guard. 
 
 {Joseph retires to the principal entrance.) 
 My faithful Marion ! 
 
 MARION. 
 
 Good, my lord,
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPrRACY. . 53 
 
 They meet to-night in my poor house. The Duke 
 Of Orleans heads them. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Yes ; go on. 
 
 MARION. 
 
 His highness 
 /> Much question'd if I knew some brave, discreet, 
 / And vigilant man, whose tongue could keep a secret, 
 / And who had those twin qualities for service, 
 The love of gold, the hate of RicheUeu. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Youl 
 
 MARION. 
 
 Made answer, " Yes, my brother ; bold and trusty, 
 Whose faith my faith could pledge ;" the duke then bade 
 
 me 
 Have him equipp'd and arm'd, well-mounted, ready 
 This night to part for Italy. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Aha ! 
 Has Bouillon too turn'd traitor ! So methought ! 
 What part of Italy ! ~ 
 
 MARION. 
 
 The Piedmont frontier. 
 Where Bouillon lies encamp'd. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Now there is danger ! 
 Great danger ! If he tamper with the Spaniard, 
 And Louis list not to my council, as. 
 Without sure proof, he will not, France is lost. 
 What more 1 
 
 MARION. 
 
 Dark hints of some design to seize 
 Your person in your palace. Nothing clear ; 
 His highness trembled while he spoke ; the words 
 Did choke each other ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 So ! Who is the brother 
 E 2
 
 54 . RICHELIEU; OR, [act ir. 
 
 You recommended to tlie duke ■? 
 
 MARION. 
 
 Whoever 
 Your eminence may father ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Darling Marion !* 
 
 (Goes to the table, and returns with a large bag of gold.) 
 
 There — pshaw — a trifle ! "What an eye you have ! 
 And what a smile, child ! {/asses her.) Ah ! you fair per- ' 
 
 dition, 
 'Tis well I'm old ! 
 
 MARION {aside and seriously). 
 
 What a great man he is ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 You are sure they meet 1 the hour 1 
 
 MARION. 
 
 At midnight. 
 
 RICHELIEU. -*■».->» 
 
 And 
 You will engage to give the duke's despatch 
 To whom I send ] 
 
 MARION. 
 
 Ay, marry ! 
 
 RICHELIEU {aside). 
 
 Huguet ? No ; 
 
 * Voltaire openly charges Richelieu with being the lover of Marion 
 de Lorme, whom the great poet of France, Victor Hugo, has sacri- 
 ficed history to ailorn with qualities which were certainly not added 
 to her personal charms. She was not less perfidious than beautiful. 
 Le Clerc, jiropcrly, refutes the accusation of Voltaire, against the 
 discretion of Richelieu ; and says, very justly, that if the great min- 
 ister had the frailties of liuinan nature, he learned how to veil them ; 
 at least when he obtained ttie scarlet. In earlier life he had been 
 prone to gallantries which a little prepossessed the king (who was 
 formal and decorous, and threw a singular coldness into the few at- 
 tachments he permitted to himself) against the aspiring intriguer. 
 But these gayer occupations died away in the engagement of higher 
 pursuits or of darker passions.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 55 
 
 He will be wanted elsewhere. Joseph *? zealous, 
 But too well known, too much the elder brother ! 
 Mauprat 1 alas ! it is his wedding-day ! 
 Frangois ] the man of men ! unnoted, young, 
 Ambitious. {Goes to the door) Francois ! 
 
 Enter Franqois, 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Follow this fair lady 
 •(Find him the suiting garments, Marion) : take 
 My fleetest steed : arm thyself to the teeth ; 
 A packet will be given you, with orders. 
 No matter what ! The instant that your hand 
 Closes upon it, clutch it, like your honour. 
 Which death alone can steal or ravish ; set 
 Spurs to your steed ; be breathless till you stand 
 Again before me. Stay, sir ! You will find me 
 Two short leagues hence, at Ruelle, in my castle. 
 Young man, be blithe ! for, note me, from the hour 
 I grasp that packet, think your guardian star 
 Rains fortune on you ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 If I fail— 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Fail! fail! 
 In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves 
 For a bright manhood, there is no such word 
 As fail ! (You will instruct him further, Marion.) 
 Follow her, but at distance ; speak not to her 
 Till you are housed. Farewell, boy ! Never say 
 " Fair again. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 I will not ! 
 RICHELIEU (patting his locks). 
 
 There's my young hero ! 
 
 [Exeunt Franqois — Marion. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 So, they would seize my person in this palace ^ 
 I cannot guess their scheme : but my retinue 
 Is here too large I a single traitor could
 
 56 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act II. 
 
 Strike impotent the failh of thousands ; Joseph, 
 Art sure of Huguet ! Think. — we hang'd his father! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 But you have bought the son ; heap'd favours on him ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Trash ! favours past, that's nothing. In his hours 
 Of confidence with you, has he named the favours 
 To come — he counts on ? 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Yes : a colonel's rank, 
 And letters of nobility. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 What, Huguet ! 
 
 {Here Huguet enters, as to address the cardinal, who does 
 not perceive him.) 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 My own name, soft — {glides behind the screen.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Colonel and nobleman ! 
 My bashful Huguet, that can never be ! 
 We have him not the less ; we'll promise it ! 
 And see the king withholds ! Ah, kings are oft 
 A great convenience to a minister ! 
 No wrong to Huguet either ! Moralists 
 Say, hope is sweeter than possession ! Yes, 
 We'll count on Huguet ! Favours past do gorge 
 Our dogs ; leave service drowsy ; dull the scent, 
 Slacken the speed ; favours to come, my Joseph, 
 Produce a lusty, hungry gratitude, 
 A ravenous zeal, that of the commonest cur 
 Would make a Cerberus. You arc right, this treason 
 Assumes a fearful aspect : but, once crush'd. 
 Its very ashes shall manure the soil 
 Of power; and ripen such full sheaves of greatness, 
 That all the summer of my fate shall seem 
 Fruitless beside the autumn ! 
 
 {Huguet holds up his hand menacingly, and creeps out.) 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 The saints grant it !
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONiSPIRACY. 57 
 
 RICHELIEU {solemnly). 
 Yes, for sweet France, Heaven grant it ! Oh my country, 
 For thee, thee only, Uiough men deem it not, 
 Are toil and terror my familiars ! I 
 Have made thee great and fair ; upon thy brows 
 Wreath'd the old Roman laurel : at thy feet 
 Bow'd nations down. No pulse in my ambition 
 Whose beatings were not measured from thy heart ! 
 [\i\ the old times before us, patriots lived* 
 And died for liberty — 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 As you would live 
 And die for despotry— 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 False monk, not so ; 
 But for the purple and the power wherein 
 State clothes herself. I love my native land 
 Not as Venetian, Englisher, or Swiss, 
 But as a noble and a priest of France ; 
 " All things for France" — lo, my eternal maxim ! 
 The vital axle of the restless wheels 
 That bear me on ! With her I have entwined 
 My passions and my fate, my crimes, my virtues ; 
 Hated and loved,t schemed, and shed men's blood. 
 
 * That in brackets omitted in representation. 
 
 t Richelieu did in fact so thoroughly associate himself with the 
 state, that, in cases where the extreme penalty of the law had been 
 incurred, Le Clerc justly observes that he was more inexorable to 
 those he had favoured, even to his own connexions, than to other 
 and more indifferent offenders. It must be remembered, as some 
 excuse for his unrelenting sternness, that, before his time, the great 
 had been accustomed to commit any disorder with impunity— even 
 the crime of treason, " auparavant on ne faisoit poser les amies aux 
 rebelles qu'en leur accordant quelque recompense." On entering 
 into the administration, he therefore laid it down as a maxim neces- 
 sary to the existence of the state, that " no crime should be com- 
 mitted with impunity." To carry out this maxim, the long-estab- 
 lished license to crime made even justice seem cruel. But the vic- 
 tims most commiserated from their birth or accomplishments, as 
 Montmorcnci or Cinq Mars, were traitors in actual conspiracy against 
 their country, and would have forfeited life in any land where the 
 punishment of death existed, and the lawgiver was strong enough to 
 vindicate the law. Richelieu was, in fact, a patriot i.nsoftened by 
 philanthropy. As in Venice (where the favourite aphorism was, 
 Venice first,* Christianity next), so with Richelieu the primary 
 
 * " Pria VeneziBiia, poi Christiane."
 
 58 Richelieu; or, [act ii- 
 
 As the calm crafts of Tuscan sages teach 
 
 Tliose who would make their couutry great. Beyond 
 
 The map of France, my heart can travel not, 
 
 But fills that limit to its farthest verge ; 
 
 And while 1 live, Richelieu and France are one.] 
 
 We priests, to whom the church forbids in youth 
 
 The plighted one, to manhood's toil denies 
 
 The soother helpmate ; from our wither'd age 
 
 Shuts the sweet blossoms of tho-sccond spring 
 
 That smiles in the name of father. We are yet 
 
 Not holier than humanity, and must 
 
 Fulfil humanity's condition. Love! 
 
 Debarr'd the actual, we but breathe a life 
 
 To the chill marble of the ideal. Thus, 
 
 In thy unseen and abstract majesty, 
 
 My France, my country, I have bodied forth 
 
 A thing to love. What are these robes of state, 
 
 This pomp, this palace"! perishable bawbles ! 
 
 In this world two things only are immortal — 
 
 Fame and a people ! 
 
 Enter Huguet. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 My lord cardinal, 
 Your eminence bade me seek you at this hour. 
 
 consideration was, " what will be best for the country ?" He had no 
 abstract principle, whether as a politician or a priest, when applied 
 to the world that lay beyond the boundaries of France. Thus he 
 whose object was to found in France a splendid and imperious des- 
 potism, assisted the Parliamentary party in England, and signed a 
 treaty of alliance and subsidies with the Catalan rebels for the estab- 
 lishment of a republic in Barcelona ; to convulse other monarchies 
 was to consolidate the growing monarchy of France. So he who 
 completely crushed the Protestant party at home, braved all the 
 wrath of the Vatican, and even the resentment of the king, in giving 
 the most essential aid to the Protestants abroad. There was, in- 
 deed, a largeness of view in his hostility to French Huguenots, 
 which must be carefully distinguished from the intolerance of the 
 mere priest. He opposed them, not as a Catholic, but as a statesman. 
 The Huguenots were strong republicans, and had formed plans for 
 dividing France into provincial commonwealihs ; and the existence of 
 Rochelie was absolutely incompatible with the integrity of the 
 French monarchy. It was a second capital held by tlie Huguenots, 
 claiming independent authority and the right to treat with foreign 
 powers. Richelieu's final conquest was marked by a humanity that 
 had nothing of the bigot. The Huguenots obtained a complete am- 
 nesty, and had only to regret the loss of privileges and fortifications 
 which could not have existed with any security to the rest of France.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 59 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Did 1 1 True, Huguet. So — you overheard 
 Strange talk among these gallants T Snares and traps 
 For Richelieu ? Well, well balk them ; let me think — 
 The men at arms you head — how many 1 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Twenty,* 
 My lord. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 All trusty ! 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Yes, for ordinary 
 Occasions ; if for great ones, I would change 
 Three fourths at least. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, what are great occasions ? 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Great bribes ! 
 
 RICHELIEU (to Joseph). 
 
 Good lack, he knows some paragons 
 Superior to great bribes ! 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 True gentlemen 
 Who have transgress'd the laws, and value life, 
 And lack not gold ; your eminence alone 
 Can grant them pardon. Ergo, you can trust them ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Logic i So be it ; let this honest twenty 
 Be arm'd and mounted : (aside) so they meet at midnight, 
 The attempt on me to-morrow. Ho ! we'll strike 
 'Twixt wind and water. (Aloud) Does it need much time 
 To find these ornaments to human nature ! 
 
 * The guard attached to Richelieu's person was in the first in- 
 stance fifty arquebusiers, afterward increased to two companies of 
 cavalry and two hundred musketeers. Huguet is, therefore, to be 
 considered merely as the lieutenant of a small detachment of this 
 little army. In point of fact, the subdivisions of the guard took it in 
 turns to serve.
 
 60 RICHELIEU ; on, [act ii. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 My lord, the trustiest of them are not birds 
 That love the dayhght. I do know a haunt 
 Where they meet nightly — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ere the dawn be gray, 
 All could be arm'd, assembled, and at Ruelle 
 In my old hall 1 
 
 HUGUET- 
 
 By one hour after midnight. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 The castle's strong. You know its outlets, Huguet 1 
 Would twenty men, well posted, keep such guard 
 That not one step (and murther's step is stealthy) 
 Could ghde within, unseen 1 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 A triple wall, 
 A drawbridge and portcullis, twenty men 
 Under my lead, a month might hold that castle 
 Against a host. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 They do not strike till morning, 
 Yet I will shift the quarter. Bid the grooms 
 Prepare the litter ; I will hence to Rnelle 
 While daylight last ; and one hour after midnight 
 You and your twenty saints shall seek me thither! • 
 You're made to rise ! You are, sir ; eyes of lynx, 
 Ears of the stag, a footfall like the snow ; 
 You are a valiant fellow ; yea, a trusty, 
 Religious, exemplary, incorrupt, 
 And precious jewel of a fellow, Huguet ! 
 If I live long enough — ay, mark my words — 
 If I live long enough, you'll be a colonel ; 
 Noble, perhaps ! One hour, sir, after midnight. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 You leave me dumb with gratitude, my lord ; 
 I'll pick the trustiest (aside) Marion's house can furnish \ 
 
 [Exit Huguet,
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 61 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 How like a spider shall I sit in my hole, 
 And watch the meshes tremble. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 But, my lord, 
 Were it not wiser still to man the palace, 
 And seize the traitors in the act 1 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 No ; Louis, 
 Long chafed against me, Julie stolen from him 
 Will rouse him more. He'll say I hatch'd the treason, 
 Or scout my charge. He half desires my death ; 
 Bnt the despatch to Bouillon, some dark scheme 
 Against his crown — there is our weapon, Joseph ! 
 With tliat, all safe ; without it all is peril ! 
 Meanwhile to my old castle ; you to court. 
 Diving with careless eyes into men's hearts, 
 As ghostly churchmen should do ! See the king, 
 Bid him peruse that sage and holy treatise. 
 Wherein 'tis set forth how a premier should 
 Be chosen from the priesthood ; how the king 
 Should never listen to a single charge 
 Against his servant, nor conceal one whisper 
 That the rank envies of a court distil 
 Into his ear, to fester the fair name 
 Of my — I meaii his minister ! Oh ! Joseph, 
 A most convincing treatise.* 
 
 Good ; all favours * 
 If Frangois be but bold and Huguet honest. 
 Huguet I half suspect; he bowed too low; 
 'Tis not his way. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 This is the curse, my lord, 
 Of your high state ; suspicion of all m.en. 
 
 * This tract on the " Unity of the Minister," contains all the doc- 
 trines, and many more to the same effect, referred to in the text, and 
 had a prodigious influence on the conscience of the poor king. At 
 the onset of his career, Richelieu, as deputy of the clergy of Poitou, 
 complained in his harangue to the king that ecclesiastics were too 
 rarely summoned to the royal councils, and invoked the example of 
 the Druids!
 
 62 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act II. 
 
 RICHELIEU {sadhj). 
 
 True, true ; my leeches bribed to poisoners ; pages 
 
 To strangle me in sleep. My very king 
 
 (This brain the unresting loom, from which was woven 
 
 The purple of his greatness) leagued against me. 
 
 Old, childless, friendless, broken, all forsake ; 
 
 All— all— but— 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 WhatT 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 The indomitable heart 
 Of Armand Richelieu ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Naught beside \ 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Why, Julie, 
 My own dear foster-child, forgive me ! yes ; 
 This morning, shining through their happy tears, 
 Thy soft eyes bless'd me ! and thy lord, in danger 
 He would forsake me not. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 And .Joseph — 
 
 RICHELIEU {after a pause). 
 
 You— 
 Yes, I believe you ; yes, for all men fear you ; 
 And the world loves you not. And I, friend Joseph, 
 I am the only man who could, my Joseph, 
 Make you a bishop.* Come, we'll go to dinner. 
 And talk the while of methods to advance 
 Our Mother Church.f Ah, Joseph, Bishop Joseph ! 
 
 * Joseph's ambition was not, however, so moderate ; he refused a 
 bishopric, and desired the cardinal's hat, for which favour Richelieu 
 openly supplicated the Holy See, but contrived somehow or other 
 never to effect it, although two ambassadors applied for it at Rome. 
 
 t The peculiar religion of P^re Joseph may be illustrated by the 
 following anecdote : An officer, whom he had dismissed upon an ex- 
 pedition into Germany, moved by conscience at the orders he had re- 
 ceived, returned for farther explanations, and found the Capuchin di- 
 sant sa messe. He approached and whispered, " But, my father, if 
 these people defend themselves—" " KUi all" (Qu'on tue tout), an- 
 swered the g^ood father, coatinmng his devotions.
 
 ACT III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 63 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Seconti 3032 (il^iliniiit)t). 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Richelieu's Castle at Ruelle. A Gothic chamber. Moon- 
 light at the ivindow, occasionally obscured, 
 
 RICHELIEU {reading).* 
 " In silence and at night, the conscience feels 
 That life should soar to nobler ends than power." 
 So sayest thou, sage and sober moralist ! 
 But wert thou tried ? Sublime philosophy, 
 Thou art the patriarch's ladder, reaching heaven, 
 And bright with beck'ning angels ; but, alas ! 
 We see thee, like the patriarch, but in dreams, 
 By the first step, dull-slumbering on the earth. 
 I am not happy ! with the Titan's lust 
 I woo'd a goddess, and I clasp a cloud. 
 When I am dust, my name shall, like a star, 
 Shine through wan space, a glory ; and a prophet 
 Whereby pale seers shall from their aery towers 
 Con all the ominous signs, benign or evil, 
 That make the potent astrologue of kings. 
 But shall the future judge me by the ends 
 That I have wrought ; or by the dubious means 
 Through which the stream of my renown hath run 
 Into the many-voiced unfalhomed Time ? 
 Foul in its bed lie weeds and heaps of slime ; 
 And with its waves, when sparkling in the sun, 
 
 * I need not say that the great length of this soliloquy adapts it 
 only for the closet, and that but few of the lines are preserved on the 
 stage. To the reader, however, the passages omitted in representa- 
 tion will not, perhaps, be the most uninteresting in (he play, and may 
 be deemed necessary to the completion of the cardinal's portrait, ac- 
 tion on the stage supplying so subtly the place of words in the closet. 
 The self-assured sophistries which, in the text, mingle with Riche- 
 lieu's better-founded arguments in apology for the darker traits of 
 his character, are to be fonnd scattered tliroughout the writings as- 
 cribed to him. The reader will observe that in this self-confession 
 lies the latent poetical justice which separates happiness from suc- 
 cess. [Lines retained on the stage enclosed in brackets.]
 
 64 RICHELIEU; OR, [ACT III. 
 
 Ofttimes the secret rivulets that swell 
 
 Its might of waters, blend the hues of blood. 
 
 Yet are my sins not those of circumstance, 
 
 That all-pervading atmosphere, wherein 
 
 Our spirits, like the imsteady lizard, take 
 
 The tints that colour and the food that nurtures ? 
 
 [Oh ! ye, whose hourglass shifts its tranquil sands 
 
 In the unvex'd silence of a student's cell ; 
 
 Ye, whose untempled hearts have never toss'd 
 
 Upon the dark and stormy tides where life 
 
 Gives battle to the elements ; and man 
 
 Wrestles with man for some slight plank, whose weight 
 
 Will bear but one, while round the desperate wretch 
 
 The hungry billows roar, and the fierce Fate, 
 
 Like some huge monster, dim-seen through the surf, 
 
 Waits him Mho drops; ye safe and formal men. 
 
 Who write the deeds, and with unfeverish hand 
 
 Weigh in nice scales the motives of the great, 
 
 Ye cannot know what ye have never tried !] 
 
 History preserves only the fleshless bones 
 
 Of what we are; and by the mocking scull 
 
 The would-be wise pretend to guess the features '. 
 
 Without the roundness and the glow of life 
 
 How hideous is the skeleton ! Without 
 
 The colourings and humanities tliat clothe 
 
 Our errors, the anatomists of schools 
 
 Can make our memory hideous ! 
 
 I have wrought 
 Great uses out of evil tools ; and they 
 In the time to come may bask beneath the light 
 Which I have stolen from tiie angry gods, 
 And warn their sons against the glorious theft, 
 Forgetful of the darkness which il broke. 
 I have shed blood, but I have had no foes 
 Save those the state had ;* if my wrath was deadly, 
 'Tis that I felt my country in my veins. 
 And smote her sons as Brutus smote his own.f 
 And yet 1 am iiot happy ; blanch'd and sear'd 
 Before my time ; breathing an air of hate, 
 
 * It is well-known that when, on his deathbed, Richelieu was asked 
 if he forgave his enemies, he replied, " I never had any but those 
 of the state." And this was true enough, for Richelieu and the state 
 were one. 
 
 t RicheHeu's vindication of himself from cruelty will be found in 
 various parts of Petitot's Collection, vols, xxi., xxx. (bis.)
 
 SCENE I.] TUE CONSPIRACY. 65 
 
 And seeing daggers in the eyes of men, 
 And wasting powers that shake the thrones of earth 
 In contest with the insects ; bearding kings 
 And braved by lackeys ;* murder at my bed; 
 And lone amid the multitudinous web, 
 With the dread three — that are the fates who hold 
 The woof and shears — the monk, the spy, the heads- 
 man. 
 And this is power! Alas! I am not happy. 
 
 {After a pause. 
 And yet the Nile is fretted by the weeds 
 Its rising roots not up ; but never yet 
 Did one least barrier by a ripple vex 
 My onward tide, unswept in sport away. ^. 
 Am I so ruthless, then, that I do hate 
 Them who hate me ! Tush, tush ! I do not hate ; 
 Nay, I forgive. The statesman writes the doom, 
 But the priest sends the blessing. I forgive them, 
 But I destroy ; forgiveness is mine own. 
 Destruction is the state's ! For private life, 
 Scripture the guide ; for public, Machiavel. 
 Would Fortune serve me if the Heaven were wroth ] 
 For chance makes half my greatness. I was born 
 Beneath the aspect of a bright-eyed star, 
 And my triumphant adamant of soul 
 Is but the fix'd persuasion of success. 
 Ah ! here ! — that spasm ! — again ! How life and death' 
 Do wrestle fornie inomentlj^ ! And yet 
 The king looks pale. I shall outlive the king! 
 And then, thou insolent Austrian, who didst gibe 
 At the ungainly, gaunt, and daring lover,t 
 
 * Voltaire has a striking passage on the singular fate of Richelieu, 
 recalled every hour from his gigantic schenties to frustrate some mis- 
 erable cabal of the anteroom. Hichelieu would often exclaim, that 
 "Six piedsde terre" (as he called the king's cabmet) "lui donnaient 
 plus de peine que tout le reste de ['Europe. " The death of Wallen- 
 stein, sacrificed by the Emperor Ferdinand, produced a most lively 
 impression upon Richelieu. He found many traits of cou'iparison be- 
 tween Ferdinand and Louis, Wallenstein and himself. In the me- 
 moirs—now regarded by the best authorities as written by his sanc- 
 tion, and in great part by hunself— the great Frenchman bursts (when 
 alluding to Wallenstein's murder) into a touching and pathetic an- 
 athema on the misere de cctte vie of depcndance on jealous and timid 
 royalty, which he himself, while he wrote, sustained. It is worthy 
 of remark, that it was precisely at the period of Wallenstein's death 
 that Richelieu obtained from the king an augmentation of his guard. 
 
 t Richelieu was commonly supposed, tUuugh I cannot say I find 
 
 F 2
 
 66 KiciicLiEu; OR, [act III. 
 
 Sleeking thy looks to silken Buckingham, 
 
 Thou shalt — no matter! I have outlived love. 
 
 Oh beautiful, all golden, gentle youth ! 
 
 Making t'ly palace in the earless front 
 
 And hopeful eye of man — ere yet tlie soul 
 
 Hath lost the memories whicli (so Plato dream'd) 
 
 Breathed glory from the earlier star it dwelt in — 
 
 Oh ! for one gale from thine exulting morning. 
 
 Stirring amid the roses, where of old 
 
 Love shook the dcwdrops from his glancing hair ! 
 
 Could 1 recall the past, or had not set 
 
 The prodigal treasures of the bankrupt soul 
 
 In one slight bark upon the shoreless sea; 
 
 The yoked steer, after his day of toil, 
 
 Forgets the goad and rests : to me alike 
 
 Or day or night: ambition has no rest! 
 
 Shall I resign 1 who can resign himself? 
 
 For custom is oui'self ; as drink and food 
 
 Become our bone and flesh, the aliments 
 
 Nurturing our nobler part, the mind — thoughts, dreams, 
 
 Passions, and aims, in the revolving cycle 
 
 Of the great alchymy, at length are made 
 
 Our mind itself; and yet the sweets of leisure. 
 
 An honour'd home, far from these base intrigues. 
 
 An eyrie on the heaven-kiss'd heights of wisdom — 
 
 {Taking up the book. 
 Speak to me, moralist ! I'll heed thy counsel. 
 Were it not best — 
 
 {Enter Franqois hastily, and in part disguised.) 
 
 RiCHELiEC {Jlinging away the hook). 
 
 Philosophy, thou liest ! 
 Quick, the despatch ! Power, empire ! Boy, fhe packet ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Kill me, my lord. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 They knew thee, they suspected. 
 They gave it not — 
 
 much evidence for it, to have been too presuming in an interview with 
 Anne of Austria (the queen), and to have bitterly resented the con- 
 tempt she expressed for him. The Duke of Buckingham's frantic 
 and Quixotic passion for the queen is well known.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACV. 67 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 He gave it — he, the Count 
 De Baradas ; with his own hand he gave it ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Baradas. Joy ! out with it ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Listen, 
 And then dismiss me to the headsman. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ha! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 They led me to a chamber ; there 
 Orleans and Baradas, and some half score 
 Whom I know not, were met — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Not more ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 But from 
 The adjoining chamber broke the din of voices. 
 The clattering tread of armed men ; at times 
 A shriller cry, that yell'd out, " Death to Richelieu !" 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Speak not of me : thy country/ is in danger ! 
 The adjoining room. So, so, a separate treason ! 
 The one thy ruin, France ! the meaner crime, 
 Left to their tools, my murder ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Baradas 
 Question'd me close — demurred — until, at last, 
 O'erruled by Orleans, gave the packet, told me 
 That life and death were in the scroll — this gold — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Gold is no proof — 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 And Orleans promised thousands, 
 When Bouillon's trumpets in the streets of Paris
 
 68 RicHEMcr; or, [act hi. 
 
 Rang out shrill answer ; hastening from the house, 
 
 My footstep in the stirrup, Marion stole 
 
 Across the threshold, whispering " Lose no moment 
 
 Ere Richelieu have tlie packet: tell him, too. 
 
 Murder is in the winds of night, and Orleans 
 
 Swears, ere the dawn the cardinal shall be clay." 
 
 She said, and, trembling, fled within ; when, lo ! 
 
 A hand of iron griped me ; through the dark 
 
 Gleam'd the dim shadow of an armed man : 
 
 Ere I could draw, the prize was wrested from me, 
 
 And a hoarse voice gasp'd, " Spy, I spare thee, for 
 
 This steel is virgin to thy lord !" witli that 
 
 He vanish'd. Scared and trembling for thy safety, 
 
 I mounted, fled, and, kneeling at thy feet, 
 
 Implore thee to acquit my faith, but not, 
 
 Like him, to spare my life. 
 
 KICHELIEU. 
 
 Who spake of life 1 
 I bade thee grasp that treasure as thine honour, 
 A jewel worth whole hecatombs of lives ! 
 Begone, redeem thine honour ; back to Marion, 
 Or Baradas, or Orleans ; track the robber. 
 Regain the packet, or crawl on to age — 
 Age and gray hairs like mine — and know, thou hast lost 
 That which had made thee great and saved thy country. 
 See me not till thou'st bought the right to seek me. 
 Away ! Nay, cheer thee ; thou hast not fail'd yet ; 
 There's no such loord as '■'■ fail /" 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Bless you, my lord. 
 For that one smile! I'll wear it on my heart 
 To light me back to triumph.* [Exit. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 The poor youth ! 
 An elder had ask'd life ! I love the young ! 
 For as great men live not in their own time, 
 
 * The fear and the hatred wliich Rifhelieu generally inspired 
 were not shared by his dependants and tlmse about his person, who 
 are said " to have adored him." — Ses domestiques le regardaient 
 comine le meilleur des maitres. — Le Clerc. In l'.\rt, although i7 
 ^toit orgueilleux et coldre, he was, en mime temps, affahU et plein de 
 douceur dans Vabord ; and he was no less generous to those who served 
 than severe to those who opposed him.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACV, 69 
 
 But the next race, so in the young my soul 
 Makes manj' Richelieus. He will win it yet. 
 Francois! He's gone. My murder! Marion's warning ! 
 This bravo's threat ! Oh for the morrow's dawn ! 
 ril set my spies to work ; I'll make all space 
 (As does the sun) a universal ej'e ; 
 Huguet shall track, Joseph confess — ha! ha! 
 Strange, while I laugh'd I shudder'd, and ev'n now 
 Through the chill air the beating of my heart 
 Sounds like a death-watch by a sick man's pillow ; 
 If Huguet could deceive me — hoofs without — 
 The gates unclose — steps near and nearer ! 
 
 {Enter Julie.) 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Cardinal ! 
 My father ! {falls at his feet.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Julie at this hour ! and tears ! 
 What ails thee ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 I am safe ; I am with thee ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Safe ! Wh}-, in all the storms of this wild world, 
 What wind would mar the violet ] 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 That man — 
 Why did 1 love him T clinging to a breast 
 That knows no shelter \ 
 
 Listen : late at noon, 
 The marriage-day, ev'n then no more a lover, 
 He left me coldly; well, I sought my chamber 
 To weep and wonder, but to hope and dream. 
 Sudden a mandate from the king, to attend 
 Forthwith his pleasure at the Louvre. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ha! 
 
 You did obey the summons ; and the king 
 Reproach'd your hasty nuptials.
 
 70 RICHELIEU ; OK, [aCT III. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Were that all ! 
 He frown'd and chid ; proclaim'd the bond unlawful ; 
 Bade me not quit my chamber in the palace, 
 And there at night, alone — this night — all still — 
 He sought my presence — dared — thou read'st the heart, 
 Read mine ! I cannot speak it ! 
 
 EICHELIEU. 
 
 He a king, 
 You, woman ; well, you yielded ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Cardinal, 
 Dare you say " yielded 1" Humbled and abash'd. 
 He from the chamber crept — this mighty Louis ; 
 Crept like a baffled felon ! Yielded ! Ah ! 
 More royalty in woman's honest heart 
 Than dwells within tlie crowned majesty 
 And sceptred anger of a hundred kings ! 
 Yielded ! Heavens ! yielded ! 
 
 RICUELIEU. 
 
 To my breast, close, close ! 
 The world would never need a Richeheu, if 
 Men — bearded, mail'd men — the lords of earth — 
 Resisted flattery, falsehood, avarice, pride, 
 As this poor child with the dove's innocent scorn 
 Her sex's tempters, vanity and power ! 
 He left you : well ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Then came a sharper trial ! 
 At the king's suit the Count de Baradas 
 Sought me to sooth, to fawn, to flatter, while 
 On his smooth lip insult appear'd more hateful 
 For the false mask of pity : letting fall 
 Dark hints of treachery, with a world of sighs 
 That Heaven had granted to so base a lord 
 The heart whose coldest friendship were to him 
 What Mexico to misers ! Stung at last 
 By my disdain, the dim and glimmering sense 
 Of his cloak'd words broke into bolder light, 
 And THEN — ah ! then, my hauglUy spirit fail'd me ! 
 Then I was weak — wept — oh ! such bitter tears !
 
 SCENE v.] THE CONSPIRACY. 71 
 
 For (turn thy face aside, and let me whisper 
 The horror to thine ear) then did I learn 
 That he — that Adrien — that my husband — knew 
 The king's polluting suit, aild deem'd it honour! 
 Then all the terrible and loathsome truth 
 Glared on nie ; coldness, waywardness, reserve, 
 Mystery of looks, words, all unravell'd, and 
 I saw the impostor where I had loved the god ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I think thou wrong'st thy husband ; but proceed. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Did you say " wrong'd" him ! Cardinal, my father, 
 Did you say " wrong'd !" Prove it, and life shall grow 
 One prayer for thy reward and his forgiveness. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Let me know all. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 To the despair he caused 
 The courtier left me ; but amid the chaos 
 Darted one guiding ray — to 'scape — to fly — 
 Reach Adrien, learn the worst ; 'twas then near mid 
 
 night : 
 Trembling, I left my chamber, sought the queen, 
 Fell at her feet, reveal'd the unholy peril, 
 Implored her aid to flee our joint disgrace. 
 Moved, she embraced and soothed me; nay, preserved ; 
 Her word sufficed to unlock the palace gates : 
 I hasten'd home, but home was desolate ; 
 No Adrien there ! Fearing the worst, I fled 
 To thee, directed hither. As my wheels 
 Paused at thy gates, the clang of arms behind, 
 The ring of hoofs — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 'Twas but my guards, fair trembler. 
 (So Huguet keeps his word ; my omens wrong'd him.)] 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Oh, in one hour what years of anguish crowd ! 
 
 rich;elieu. 
 Nay, there's no danger now. Thou needest rest. 
 Come, thou shalt lodge beside me. Tush! be cheer'd,
 
 72 RICHBLIEU ; OR, [act III. 
 
 My rosiest Amazon; thou wrong'st thy Theseus. 
 All will be well ; yes, yet all well, 
 
 [Exeunt through a side door. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Huguet — De Mauprat, in complete armour, his 
 
 visor down. 
 
 {The moonlight obscured at the casement.) 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Not here ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh, I will find him, fear not. Hence, and guard 
 The galleries where the menials sleep ; plant sentries 
 At every outlet ; chance should throw no shadow 
 Between the vengeance and the victim ! Go ! 
 Ere yon brief vapour that obscures the moon, 
 As doth our deed pale conscience, pass away, 
 The mighty shall be ashes. 
 
 A second arm ■? 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Will you not 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 To slay one weak old man? 
 Away ! No lesser wrongs than mine can make 
 This murder lawful. Hence ! 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 A short farewell ! 
 
 [Exit HuGUET. 
 
 Re-enter Richelieu {not perceiving De Mauprat). 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 How heavy is the air ! the vestal lamp 
 Of the sad moon, weary with vigil, dies 
 In the still temple of the solemn heaven! 
 The very darkness lends itself to fear, 
 To treason —
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. "73 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 And to death ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 My omens lied not ! 
 Who art thou, wretch 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Thy doomsman ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ho, my guards ! 
 Huguet ! Montbrassil ! Vermont ■? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Ay, thy spirits 
 Forsake thee, wizard ; thy bold men of mail 
 Are my confederates. Stir not ! but one step. 
 And know the next — thy grave ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Thou liest, knave ! 
 I am old, infirm, most feeble, but thou liest ! 
 Armand de Richelieu dies not by the hand 
 Of man : the stars have said it,* and the voice 
 Of my own prophet and oracular soul 
 Confirms the shining Sibyls ! Call them all — 
 Thy brother butchers ! Earth has no such fiend ; 
 No ! as one parricide of his father-land. 
 Who dares in Richelieu murder France ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Thy stars 
 Deceive thee, cardinal ; thy soul of wiles 
 May against kings and armaments avail. 
 And mock the embattled world ; but powerless now 
 Against the sword of one resolved man, 
 Upon whose forehead thou hast written shame ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I breathe ; he is not a hireling. Have I wrong'd thee % 
 Beware surmise, suspicion, lies ! I am 
 Too great for men to speak the truth of me. 
 
 * In common with his contemporaries, Richelieu was credulous 
 in astrology and less lawful arts. He was too fortunate a man not 
 to be superstitious. 
 
 G
 
 74 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT III. 
 
 C3 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Thy acts are thy accusers, cardinal ! 
 
 In his hoi youth, a soldier, urged to crime 
 
 Against tlie state, placed in your liands his life ; 
 
 You did not strike the blow ; but o'er his head, 
 
 Upon the gossamer thread of your caprice, 
 
 Hover'd the axe. His the brave spirit's hell, 
 
 The twilight terror of suspense ; your death 
 
 Had set him free : he purposed not, nor pray'd it. 
 
 One day you summon'd, mockVl him with smooth 
 
 pardon, 
 Shower'd wealth upon him, bade au angel's face 
 Turn earth to paradise — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Well ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Was this mercy ! 
 A Caesar's generous vengeance ? Cardinal, no ! 
 Judas, not C«sar, was the model ! You 
 Saved him from death for shame ; reserved to grow 
 The scorn of living men ; to his dead si;es. 
 Leprous reproach; scofTof the age to come; 
 A kind convenience ; a Sir Pandarus 
 To his own bride, and the august adulterer ! 
 Then did the first great law of human hearts. 
 Which with the patriot's, not the rebel's, name 
 Crown'd the first Brutus, when the Tarquin fell. 
 Make misery royal ; raise this desperate wretch 
 Into thy destiny ! Expect no mercy ! 
 Behold De Mauprat ! 
 
 {Liftf, his visor.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 To thy knees, and crawl 
 For pardon ; or, I tell thee, thou shalt live 
 For such remorse, that, did I hate thee, I 
 Would bid thee strike, 'hat 1 might be avenged! 
 It was to save my .lulie from the king, 
 That in tliy valour I forgave thy crime ; 
 It was when thou, the rash and ready tool — 
 Yea, of that shame thou loath'st — didst leave thy hearth 
 To the polluter — in these arras thy bride
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 75 
 
 Found the protecting shelter thine withheld. 
 
 (Goes to the side door.) 
 Julie de Mauprat — Julie ! 
 
 Enter Julie. 
 
 Lo ! my witness ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 What marvel's this ? I dream ! My Julie — thou ! 
 This thy beloved hand 1 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Henceforth all bond 
 Between us twain is broken. Were it not 
 For this old man, I miglit in truth have lost 
 The right, now mine, to scorn thee ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 So, you hear her ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Thou with some slander hast her sense infected ! 
 
 JUHE. 
 
 No, sir : he did excuse thee in despite 
 
 Of all that wears the face of truth. Thy friend, 
 
 Thy co7ifidant, familiar, Baradas, 
 
 Himself reveal'd thy baseness. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Baseness ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay; 
 That thou didst court dishonour. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Baradas ! 
 
 Where is thy thunder, Heaven ? Duped ! snared ! un- 
 done ! 
 
 Thou — thou couldst not believe him ! Thou dost love 
 me ! 
 
 Love cannot feed on falsehoods ! 
 
 JULIE {aside). 
 
 Love him ! Ah! 
 Be still, my heart ! Love you I did : how fondly.
 
 76 RICHELIEU ; OR, [ACT III. 
 
 Woman — if women were my listeners now — 
 Alone could tell ! For ever ifled my dream : 
 Farewell ; all's over ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Nay, my daughter, these 
 Are but the binding mists of daybreak love 
 Sprung from its very light, and heralding 
 A noon of happy summer. Take her hand 
 And speak the truth, with which your heart runs over, 
 That this Count Judas, this incarnate falsehood. 
 Never lied more than when he told thy JuUe 
 That Adrien loved her not ; except, indeed. 
 When he told Adrien, Julie could betray him. 
 
 JULIE {embracing De Mauprat). 
 
 You love me, then ! you love me ! and they wrong'd 
 you! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Ah ! couldst thou doubt it ? 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Why, the very mole 
 Less blind than thou ! Baradas loves thy wife ; 
 Had hoped her hand; aspired to be that cloak 
 To the king's will, which to thy bluntness seems 
 The Centaur's poisonous robe ; hopes even now 
 To make thy corpse his footstool \o thy bed! 
 Where was thy wit, man ? Ho ! these schemes are 
 
 glass ! 
 The very sun shines through them. 
 
 Can you forgive you ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh, my lord, 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, and save you ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Save! 
 
 Terrible word ! oh, save thyself: these halls 
 Swarm with thy foes : already for thy blood 
 Pants thirsty murder !
 
 SCENE II.] THE COXSPIRACV. 77 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Murder ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hush ! put by 
 The woman. Hush ! a shriek, a cry, a breath 
 Too loud, would startle from its horrent pause 
 The swooping death ! Go to the door and listen ! 
 Now for escape ! 
 
 DE JIAUPRAT. 
 
 None, none ! Their blades shall pass 
 This heart to thine. 
 
 RICHELIEU {drijhj). 
 An honourable outwork, 
 But much too near the citadel. I think 
 That I can trust you now {slowly, and gazing on him) : 
 
 yes ; I can trust you. 
 How many of my troop league with you? 
 
 We are your troop ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And Huguet ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 All! 
 
 Is our captain. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 A retribution power ! This comes of spies ! 
 All ? then the lion's skin too short to-night ; 
 Now for the fox's ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 A hoarse, gathering murmur! 
 Hurrying and heavy footsteps! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ha ! the posterns "? 
 
 DE MAUPR.\T. 
 
 No egress where no sentry ! 
 
 G2
 
 78 RICHELIEU; OR, [act III 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Follow me ; 
 I have it ! to my chamber — quick ! Come Julie ! 
 Hush ! Mauprat, come ! 
 
 Murmur at a distance — Death to the Cardinal ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Bloodhounds, I laugh at ye ! ha! ha! we will 
 Baffle them yet. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 [Exeunt Julie, Mauprat, Richelieu, 
 
 HUGUET (without). 
 
 This way, this way ! 
 
 SCENE HI. 
 
 Enter Huguet and the conspirators. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 De Mauprat's hand is never slow in battle ; 
 Strange if it falter now ! Ha ! gone ! 
 
 FIRST CONSPIRATOR. 
 
 Perchance 
 The fox had crept to rest : and to his lair 
 Death, the dark huri^Elte. tracks him. 
 
 Enter Mauprat {throwing^ open the doors of the recess, in 
 which a bed, whereom^ichelieu lies extended). 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Live the king! 
 Richelieu is dead 1 
 
 HUGUET {advancing tmuards the recess ; MAUPftMr follow- 
 ing, his hand on his dagger). ' ' 
 
 Are his eyes open 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Ay, 
 
 As if in life !
 
 SCENE III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 79 
 
 HUGUET {turning back). 
 
 I will not look on him. 
 You have been long. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I watch'd him till he slept. 
 Heed me. No trace of blood reveals the deed ; 
 Strangled in sleep. His health hath long been broken 
 Found breathless in his bed. So runs our tale, 
 Remember ! Back to Paris : Orleans gives 
 Ten thousand crowns, and Baradas a lordship, 
 To him who first gluts vengeance with the news 
 That Richelieu is in heaven ! Quick, that all France 
 May share your joy ' 
 
 • I 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 And youT 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Will stay, to crush 
 Eager suspicion ; to forbid sharp eyes 
 To dwell too closely on the clay ; prepare 
 The rites, and place him on his bier : this my task. 
 I leave to you, sirs, the more grateful lot 
 Of wealth and honours. Hence ! 
 
 HUGUET, 
 
 I shall be noble 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Away! 
 
 FIRST CONSPIRATOR. 
 
 Five thousand crowns ! 
 
 OMNES. 
 
 To horse ! to horse ! 
 \^Exeunt conspirators.
 
 so RiciirnEU ; on, [act hi. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Still night. A room in the house of Count de Baradas, 
 
 lighted, 4'C. 
 
 Orleans, De Beringhen. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 I understand. Mauprat kept guard without : 
 Knows naught of the desputcli, but heads the troop 
 Whom tlie poor cardinal fancies liis protectors. 
 Save us from such protection ! 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Yet, if Huguet, 
 By whose advice and proffers we renounced 
 Our earUer scheme, should still be Richelieu's minion. 
 And play us false — 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 The fox must then devour 
 The geese he gripes (I'm out of it, thank Heaven!), 
 And you must swear )'ou smelt the trick, but seem'd 
 To approve the deed — to render up the doers. 
 
 Enter Baradas. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Juhe is fled : the king, whom now I left 
 
 To a most thorny pillow, vows revenge 
 
 On her, on Mauprat, and on Ricliclieu ! Well ; 
 
 We loyal men anticipate his wish 
 
 Upon the last ; and as for Mauprat — 
 
 {Showing a writ.) 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Hum! 
 
 They say the devil invented printing ! Faith, 
 
 He has some hand in Avriting parchment — eh, count ■? 
 
 What mischief now ' 
 
 baradas. 
 
 The king, at .Julie's flight 
 Enraged, will brook no rival in a subject ; 
 So on this old offence, the affair of Faviaux, 
 Ere Mauprat can tell tales of ux, we build 
 His bridge between the
 
 SCENE IV.] THE CONSPIRACY. 81 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Dungeon and the grave 
 Well ; if our courier can but reach the army, 
 The cards are ours ! and yet, I own, I tremble. 
 Our names are in the scroll : discovery, death ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Success, a crown ! 
 
 DE BERiNGHEN {apart to Barados). 
 Our future regent is 
 No hero. 
 
 BARADAS (^0 De Bevinghen). 
 But his rank makes others valiant ; 
 And on his cowardice I mount to power. 
 Were Orleans regent, what were Baradas ] 
 Oh ! by-the-way, I had forgot, your highness, 
 Friend Huguet whisper'd me, "Beware of Marion: 
 I've seen her lurking near the cardinal's palace." 
 Upon that hint, I've found her lodgings elsewhere. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 You wrong her, count : Poor Marion ! she adores me. 
 
 BARADAS {apologetically). 
 Forgive me, but — 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 My lord, a rude, strange soldier, 
 Breathless with haste, demands an audience. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 So! 
 The archers 1 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 In the anteroom, my lord, 
 As you desired. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 'Tis well ; admit the soldier. 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 Huguet ! I bade him seek me here !
 
 82 Richelieu; or, [act hi. 
 
 Enter Huguet. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 My lords, 
 The deed is done. Now, count, fulfil your word, 
 And make me noble ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Richelieu dead 1 art sure ■? 
 How died he ? 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Strangled in his sleep : no blood, 
 No telltale violence. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Strangled ] monstrous villain ! 
 Reward for murder ! Ho, there ! 
 
 {Stamping. 
 
 Enter Captani, icithfivc archers. 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 No, thou durst not ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Seize on the ruffian ; bind him, gag him ! Off 
 To the Bastile ! 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Your word, your plighted faith ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Insolent liar ! ho, away ! 
 
 HUGUET. 
 
 Nay, count ; 
 I have that about me which — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Away with him ! 
 
 Exeunt Huguet and archers. 
 Now, then, all's safe ;. Huguet must die in prison. 
 So Mauprat : coax or force the meaner crew 
 To fly the country. Hh, ha ! thus, your highness. 
 Great men make use of little men.
 
 SCENE IV.] THE CONSPIRACY. 83 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 My lords, 
 Since our suspense is ended, you'll excuse me ; 
 'Tis late, and, entre nous, I have not supp'd yet ! 
 I'm one of the new council now, remember ; 
 I feel the public stirring here already ; 
 A very craving monster. Au revoir ! 
 
 [I^xit De Beringhen. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 No fear, now Richelieu's dead. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 And could he come 
 To lif :; again, he could not keep hfe's life. 
 His power, nor save De Mauprat from the scaffold, 
 Nor Julie from these arms, nor Paris from 
 The Spaniard, nor your highness from the throne ! 
 All ours ! all ours ! in spite of my lord cardinal ! 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A gentleman, my lord, of better mien 
 Than he who last — 
 
 BAUADAS. 
 
 Well, he may enter. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Who 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 Can this be •? 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 One of the conspirators : 
 Mauprat himself, perhaps. 
 
 Enter Franqois. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 My lord— 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Ha, traitor! 
 In Paris still ?
 
 84 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT IV. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 The packet, the despatch ; 
 Some knave play'd spy without, and reft it from me 
 Ere I could draw my sword. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Play'd spy without ! 
 Did he wear armour ? 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Ay, from head to heel. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 One of our band. Oh, heavens ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Could it be Mauprat *? 
 Kept guard at the door ; knew naught of the despatch; 
 How heT and yet, who other? 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Ha, De Mauprat ! 
 The night was dark, his visor closed. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 'Twas he ! 
 How could he guess? 'sdcath! if he should betray us. 
 His hate to Richelieu dies with Richelieu ; and 
 He was not great enough for treason. Hence ! 
 Find Mauprat ; beg, steal, filch, or force it back, 
 Or, as I live, the halter — 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 By the morrow 
 I will regain it (aside), and redeem my honour ! 
 
 [Exit Francois. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Oh ! we are lost — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Not so ! But cause on cause 
 For Mauprat's seizure, silence, death ! Take courage. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Should it once reach the king, the cardinal's arm 
 Could smite us from the grave.
 
 ACT IV.] THE CONSPIRACY. 85 
 
 BAR ADAS. 
 
 Sir, think it not ! 
 I hold De Mauprat in my grasp. To-morrow, 
 And France is ours ! Thou dark and fallen angel, 
 Whose name on earth's Ambition; thou that niak'st 
 Thy throne on treasons, stratagems, and murder. 
 And with thy tierce and blood-red smile canst quench 
 The guiding stars of solemn empire, hear us 
 (For we are thine), and light us to the goal ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Gardens of the Louvre. Orleans, Baradas, De Ber- 
 inghen, Courtiers, <Sfc. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 How does my brother bear the cardinal's death ? 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 With grief, when thinking of the toils of state ; 
 With joy, when thinking on the eyes of Julie : 
 At times he sighs, " Who now shall govern France ■?" 
 Anon exclaims, " Who now shall baffle Louis ■?" 
 
 {Enter Louis and other courtiers. They uncover.) 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Now, my liege, now I can embrace a brother. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Dear Gaston, yes. I do believe you love me ; 
 
 Richelieu denied it, sever'd us too long. 
 
 A great man, Gaston ! Who shall govern France ? 
 
 EARADAS. 
 
 Yourself, my liege. That swart and potent star 
 Eclipsed your royal orb. He served the country, 
 But did he serve or seek to sway the king ?
 
 86 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act IV. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 You're right ; he was an able pohtician,* 
 [That's all : between ourselves, count, I suspect 
 The largeness of his learning, specially 
 In falcons ;t a poor huntsman, too ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 Your majesty remembers — 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Ay, the blunder 
 Between the greffier and the souillard when — 
 
 {Checks and crosses himself). 
 Alas ! poor sinners that we are ! we laugh 
 While this great man, a priest, a cardinal, 
 A faithful servant — out upon us ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Sire, 
 If my brow wear no cloud, His that the cardinal 
 No longer shades the king. 
 
 LOUIS {looking up at the skies). 
 
 Oh, Baradas ! 
 Ami not to be pitied 1 what a day 
 For— 
 
 * That in brackets omitted in representation. 
 
 + Louis XIII. is said to have possessed some natural talents, and 
 in earlier youth to have exhibited the germes of noble qualities ; but 
 a blight seems to have passed over his maturer life. Personally 
 brave, but morally timid ; always governed, whether by his mother 
 or his minister, and always repining at the yoke. The only affec- 
 tion atnountmg to a passion that he betrayed was for the sports of 
 the field ; yet it was his craving weakness (and this throws a kind 
 of false interest over his character) to wish to be loved. He him- 
 self loved no one. He suffered the only woman who seems to have 
 been attached to him to wither in a convent; he gave up favourite 
 after favourite to exile or the block. When Richelieu died, he said 
 coldly, " Voila un grand politique mort !" and when the ill-fated but 
 unprincipled Cinq Mars, whom he called le cher ami, was beheaded, 
 he drew out his watch at the fatal hour, and said with a smile, " I 
 think at this moment that le cher ami fait une vilaine mine." Never- 
 theless, his conscience at times (for he was devout and superstitious) 
 made him gentle, and his pride and his honour would often, when 
 least expected, rouse him into haughty but brief resistance to the 
 despotism under which he lived.
 
 SCENE IV.] THE CONSPIRACY. 87 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Sorrow 1 No, sire ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Bah ! for hmdi?ig, man. 
 And Richelieu's dead ; 'twould be an indecorum 
 Till he is buried; {yaivns) life is very tedious. 
 I made a madrigal on life last week : 
 You do not sing,* count ? Pity ; you should learn. 
 Poor Richelieu had no ear, yet a great man. 
 Ah ! what a weary weight devolves upon me ! 
 These endless wars, these thankless parliaments, 
 The snares in which he tangled states and kings, 
 Like the old fisher of the fable, Proteus, 
 Netting great Neptune's wariest tribes, and changing 
 Into all shapes when craft pursued himself : 
 Oh, a great man ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Your royal mother said so, 
 And died in exile. 
 
 LOUIS {sadly). 
 True : I loved my mother \\ 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 The cardinal dies. Yet day revives the earth ; 
 The rivers run not back. In truth, my liege, 
 Did your high orb on others shine as him. 
 Why, things as dull in their own selves as I am 
 Would glow as brightly with the borrow'd beam.J 
 
 * Louis had some musical taste and accomplishment, wherewith 
 he often communicated to his favourites some of that wearisome 
 ennui under which he himself almost unceasingly languished. 
 
 t One of Louis's most bitter complaints against Richelieu was the 
 continued banishment of the queen mother. It is impossible, how- 
 ever, not to be convinced that the return of that most worthless in- 
 triguante was wholly incompatible with the tranquillity of the king- 
 dom. Yet, on the other hand, the poverty and privation which she 
 endured in exile are discreditable to the generosity and the grati- 
 tude of Richelieu ; she was his first patron, though afterward his 
 most powerful persecutor. 
 
 X In his Memoirs, Richelieu gives an amusing account of the in- 
 solence and arts of Baradas, and observes, with indignant astonish- 
 ment, that the favourite was never weary of repeating to the king 
 that he (Baradas) would have made just as great a minister as
 
 88 RICHELIEU ; OK, [aCT IV. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Ahem ! He was too stern. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 A very Nero. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 His power was like the capitol of old — 
 Built on a human scull. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 And, had he hved, 
 I know another head, my Baradas, 
 That would have propp'd the pile : I've seen him eye 
 
 thee 
 With a most hungry fancy. 
 
 BARADAS (anxiously). 
 Sire, I knew 
 You would protect me, 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Did you so 1 of course I 
 And yet he had a way with him, a something 
 That always — But no matter, he is dead. 
 And, after all, men calFd his king " The Just,"* 
 And so I am. Dear count, this silliest Julie, 
 I know not why, she takes my fancy. Many 
 As fair, and certainly more kind ; but yet 
 It is so. Count, I am no lustful Tarquin, 
 And do abhor the bold and frontless vices 
 Which the church justly censures ; yet, 'tis sad 
 On rainy days to drag out weary hours,! 
 
 Richelieu. It is on the attachment of Baradas to La Cressias, a 
 maid of honour to the queen mother, of whom, according to Bara- 
 das, the king was enamoured also, that his love for the Julie de 
 Mortemar of the jjlay Iras been founded. The secret of Baradas' 
 sudden and extraordinary influence with the king seems to rest in 
 the personal adoration which he professed for Louis, with whom he 
 afl'ecled all the jealousy of a lover, but whom he flattered with the 
 ardent chivalry of a knight. Even after his disgrace he placed 
 upon his banner, " Fiat voluntas tua." 
 
 * Louis was called 'I'he Just, but for no other reason than that he 
 was born under the Libra. 
 
 t Louis XUI. did not resemble either his father or his son in the 
 ardour of his attachments ; if not wholly platonic, they were wholly 
 uniiiipassioned ; yet no man was more jealous, or more unscrupu- 
 lously tyrannical when the jealousy was aroused.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 89 
 
 Deaf to the music of a woman's voice, 
 Blind to the sunshine of a woman's eyes. 
 It is no sin in kings to seek amusement ; 
 And that is all I seek. I miss her much ; 
 She has a silver laugh : a rare perfection. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Richelieu was most disloyal in that marriage.] 
 
 LOUIS (queruloushj). 
 He knew that Julie pleased me : a clear proof 
 He never loved me ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Oh, most clear ! But now 
 No bar between the lady and your will ! 
 This writ makes all secure ; a week or two 
 In the Bastile will sober Mauprat's love, 
 And leave him eager to dissolve a hymen 
 That brings him such a home. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 See to it, count ; 
 
 {Exit Baradas.) 
 I'll summon Julie back. A word with you. 
 
 {Takes aside first courtier and De Beringhen, and 
 passes, conversing with them, through the gardens.) 
 
 Enter Franqois. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 All search, as yet, in vain for Mauprat ! Not 
 At home since yesternoon ; a soldier told me 
 He saw him pass this way with hasty strides ; 
 Should he meet Baradas, they'd rend it from him, 
 And then— benignant Fortune smiles upon me — 
 I am thy son ! If thou desert'st me now. 
 Come, Death, and snatch me from disgrace. But, no, 
 There's a great spirit ever in the air 
 That from prolific and far-spreading wings 
 Scatters the seeds of honour ; yea, the walls 
 And moats of castled forts, the barren seas, 
 The cell wherein the pale-eyed student holds 
 Talk with melodious science, all are sown 
 With everlasting honours, if our souls 
 Will toil for fame as boors^ for bread— 
 
 - Hs
 
 90 Richelieu; or, [act iv. 
 
 Enter Mauprat. 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Oh, let me — 
 Let me but meet him foot to foot, Til dig 
 The Judas from his heart ; albeit the king 
 Should o'er him cast the purple ! 
 
 ^ FRANCOIS. 
 
 Mauprat ! hold: 
 Where is the — 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Well ! what wouldst thou T 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 The despatch ! 
 The packet. Look on me ; I serve the cardinal ; 
 You know me. Did you not keep guard last night 
 By Marion's house ■? 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 I did : no matter now ! 
 They told me he was here I 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Oh joy ! quick, quick ; 
 The packet thou didst wrest from me ? 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 The packet ? 
 What, art thou he I deem'd the cardinal's spy 
 (Dupe that I was), and overhearing Marion— 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 The same ; restore it L haste ! 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 I have it not : 
 Methought it but reveal'd our scheme to Richelieu, 
 And, as we mounted, gave it to — 
 
 Enter Baradas. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 stand back !
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 91 
 
 Now, villain ! now I have thee ! 
 
 (To Franqois.) Hence, sir ! Draw; / 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Art mad ? the king's at hand ! leave him to Richelieu ! 
 Speak, the despatch — to whom — 
 
 MAUPRAT {dashing him aside and rushing to Baradas). 
 
 Thou triple slanderer ! 
 I'll set my heel upon thy crest ! 
 
 {A few passes.) 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Fly, fly ! 
 The king ! 
 
 Enter at one side Louis, Orleans, De Beringhen, courtiers, 
 <!fc. ; at the other, the guards hastily. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Swords drawn — before our very palace ! 
 Have our laws died with Richelieu ^ 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Pardon, sire, 
 My crime but self-defence.* {Aside to king) It is De 
 Mauprat ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Dare he thus brave us '\ 
 
 {Baradas goes to the guard and gives the writ.) 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Sire, in the cardinal's name — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Seize him — disarm — to the Bastile ! 
 
 {De Mauprat seized, struggles with the guard — Fran- 
 
 * One of Richelieu's severest and least political laws was that 
 w^hich made duelling a capital crime. Never was the punishment 
 against the offence more relentlessly enforced, and never were duels 
 so desperate and so numerous. The punishment of death must be 
 evidently ineffectual so long as to refuse a duel is to be dishonoured, 
 and so long as men hold the doctrine, however wrong, that it is bet- 
 ter to part with the life that Heaven gave than the honour man 
 makes. In fact, the greater the danger he mcurred, the greater was 
 the punctilio of the cavalier of that time in braving it.
 
 92 RICHELIEU; OR, [act IV. 
 
 ^ois restlessly endeavouring to pacify and speak to 
 him — tvhen the gates open. Enter Richelieu — Jo- 
 seph — 'followed hy arquehusiers.) 
 
 BAKADAS. 
 
 The dead 
 Return'd to life ! 
 
 LOUTS. 
 
 What a mock death ! this tops 
 The infinite of insult. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT {breaking from the guards). 
 Priest and hero ! — 
 For you are both — protect the truth ! 
 
 RICHELIEU {taking the writ from the guard). 
 
 What's this 1 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Fact in philosophy. Foxes have got 
 Nine Uves as well as cats ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Be firm, my liege. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 I have assumed the sceptre ; I will yield it ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 The tide runs counter; there'll be shipwreck some- 
 where. 
 
 {Baradas and Orleans keep close to the king, ivhisper- 
 ing and prompting him when Richelieu speaks.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 High treason — Faviaux ! still that stale pretence ! 
 My liege, bad men (ay, count, most knavish men!) 
 Abuse your royal goodness. For this soldier, 
 France hath none braver ; and his youth's hot folly. 
 Misled (by whom, your highness may conjecture !), 
 Is long since canceU'd by a loyal manhood. 
 I, sire, have pardon'd him. 
 
 Lot IS. 
 
 And we do give 
 Your pardon to the winds. Sir, do your dutv !
 
 SCENE 1.] THE CONSPIRACY. 93 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 What, sire ? you do not know — oh pardon me — 
 You know not yet, that this brave, honest heart 
 Stood between mine and murder! Sire! for my sake, 
 For your old servant's sake, undo this wrong. 
 See, let me rend the sentence. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 At your peril ! 
 This is too much. Again, sir, do your duty ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Speak not, but go : I would not see young Valour 
 So humbled as gray Service ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Fare you well ! 
 Save Julie, and console her. 
 
 FRANCOIS {aside to Mauprat). 
 
 The despatch ! 
 Your fate, foes, life, hang on a word ! to whom ? 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 To Huguet. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Hush, keep council ! silence — hope ! 
 
 {Exeunt Mauprat and guard.) 
 
 BARADAS {aside to Franqois). 
 Has he the packet 1 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 He will not reveal. 
 {Aside) Work, brain ! beat, heart ! " There's no such 
 word as fail y 
 
 {Exit Franqois.) 
 
 RICHELIEU {fiercely). 
 Room, my lords, room ! The minister of France 
 Can need no intercession with the king. 
 
 {They fall back.) 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 What means this false report of death, lord cardinaU
 
 94 RICHELIEU; OR, [act IV. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Are you then anger'd, sire, that I live still T 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 No ; but such artifice — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Not mine : look elsewhere ! 
 Louis, my castle swann'd with the assassins. 
 
 BARADAS (advancing). 
 
 We have punish'd them already. Huguet now 
 In the Bastile. Oh ! my lord, ive were prompt 
 To avenge you — we were — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 We 1 Ha ! ha ! you hear, 
 My liege ! What page, man, in the last court grammar 
 Made you a plural 1 Count, you have seized the hireling : 
 Sire, shall I name the master ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Tush ! my lord, 
 The old contrivance : ever does your wit 
 InveiiL assassins, that ambition may 
 Slay rivals — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Rivals, sire ! in what ^ 
 Service to France 1 I have none ! Lives the man 
 Whom Europe, paled before your glory, deems 
 Rival to Armand Richelieu 1 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 What, so haughty ! 
 Remember, he who made can unmake. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Never ! 
 Never ! Your anger can recall your trust. 
 Annul me of my office, spoil me of my lands, 
 Rifle my coffers ; but my name, my deeds. 
 Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre ! 
 Pass sentence on me if you will ; from kings,
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 95 
 
 Lo, I appeal to lime ! * [Be just, my liege ; 
 I found your kingdom rent with heresies 
 And bristling with rebellion ; lawless nobles 
 And breadless serfs ; England fomentnig discord ; 
 Austria, her clutch on your dominion ; Spain 
 Forging the prodigal gold of either Ind 
 To armed thunderbolts. The arts lay dead, 
 Trade rotted in your marts, your armies mutinous, 
 Your treasury bankrupt. Would you now revoke 
 Your trust, so be it ! and I leave you sole, 
 Supreme monarch of the mightiest realm, 
 From Ganges to the Icebergs. Look without ; 
 No foe not humbled ! Look within ; the arts 
 Quit for your schools ; their old Hesperides 
 The golden Italy ! while throughout the veins 
 Of your vast empire flows in strengthening tides 
 Trade, the calm health of nations ! 
 
 Sire, I know 
 Your smoother courtiers please you best, nor measure 
 Myself with them ; yet sometimes I would doubt 
 If statesmen rock'd and dandled into power 
 Could leave such legacies to kings ! 
 
 {Louis appears irresolute,') 
 
 BARADAS {passing him, lohispers). 
 But Julie, 
 Shall I not summon her lo court.] 
 
 LOUIS {motions to Baradas and turns haughtily to the 
 cardinal) » 
 
 Enough ! 
 Your eminence must excuse a longer audience. 
 To your own palace. For our conference, this 
 Nor place nor season. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Good, my liege ; for Justice, 
 All place a temple, and all season, summer ! 
 Do you deny me justice 1 Saints of heaven ! 
 He turns from me ! Do yon deny me justice ? 
 For fifteen years, while in these hands dwelt empire, 
 The humblest craftsman, the obscurest vassal. 
 The very leper shrinking from the sun. 
 Though loathed by charity, might ask for justice ! 
 * That in brackets omitted in representation.
 
 96 RICHELIEU ; or, [act iv. 
 
 Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien 
 
 Of some I see around you — counts and princes — 
 
 Kneeling for favours ; but, erect and loud, 
 
 As men who ask man's rights ! my liege, my Louis, 
 
 Do you refuse me justice, audience even, 
 
 In the pale presence of the baffled murther?* 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Lord cardinal, one by one you have sever'd from me 
 The bonds of human love. All near and dear 
 Mark'd out for vengeance, exile or the scaffold. 
 You find me now amid my trustiest friends, 
 My closest kindred ; you would tear them from me ; 
 They murder you forsooth, since me they love. 
 Enough of plots and treasons for one reign ! 
 Home ! home ! and sleep away these phantoms ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Sire ! 
 I — patience, Heaven! sweet Heaven! — sire, from the 
 
 foot 
 Of that Great Throne, these hands have raised aloft 
 On an Olymyus, looking down on mortals 
 And vvorshipp'd by their awe — before the foot 
 Of that high throne, spurn you the gray-hair'd man 
 Who gave you empire, and now sues for safety ■? 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 No : when we see your eminence in truth 
 At the foot of the throne, we'll listen to you. 
 
 [Exit Louis. 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Saved ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 For this, deep thanks to Julie and to Mauprat ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 My Lord de Baradas, I pray your pardon ; 
 You are to be my successor ! your hand, sir ! 
 
 * For the haughty and rebuking tone which Richeheu as.sumed 
 in his expostulations with the king, see his memoirs (passim) in 
 Petitot's collection, vols, xxii.-xxx. (bis). Montesquieu, in one of 
 his brilliant antitheses, says well of Richelieu, " II avila le roi,mais 
 il illustra le r^gne."
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 97 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 What can this mean 1 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 It trembles, see ! it trembles ! 
 The hand that holds the destinies of nations 
 Ought to shake less ! ^ Poor Baradas ! poor France ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Insolent — 
 
 [Exeunt Baradas and Orleans. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Joseph, did you hear the king I 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 I did ; there's danger ! Had you been less haughty* — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And suffer'd slaves to chuckle, " see the cardinal ; 
 How meek his eminence is to-day :" I tell thee 
 This is a strife in which the loftiest look 
 Is the most subtle armour — 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 But— 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 No time 
 For ifs and buts. I will accuse these traitors ! 
 FranQois shall witness that De Baradas 
 
 * However " orgueilleux''^ and " colere" in his disputes with Louis, 
 the cardinal did not always disdain recourse to the arts of the cour- 
 tier ; once, after an angry discussion with the king, in which, as usu- 
 al, Richeheu got the better, Louis, as they quitted the palace togeth- 
 er, said rudely, " Sortez le premier; vous ^tes bien le roi de 
 France." " Si je passe le premier," replied the minister, after a 
 moment's hesitation, and with great adroitness, " ce ne pent ^tre 
 que comme le plus humble de vos serviteurs ;" and he took a flam- 
 beau from one of the pages, to light the king as he walked before 
 him, " en recultant et sans touruer le dos." 
 
 I
 
 98 RICHELIEU ; OR, [act IV. 
 
 Gave him the secret missive for De Bouillon, 
 And told him life and death were in the scroll. 
 I will, I will — 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Tush ! Franr^ois is your creature ; 
 So they will say, and laugh at you ! Your witness 
 Must be that same despatch. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Away to Marion ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 I have been there ; she is seized, removed, imprison'd, 
 By the count's orders. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Goddess of bright dreams, 
 My country, shalt thou lose me now, when most 
 Thou needst thy worshipper ■? My native land ! 
 Let me but ward this dagger from thy heart. 
 And die — but on thy bosom ! 
 
 Enter Julie. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Heaven ! I thank thee ! 
 It cannot be, or this all-powerful man 
 Would not stand idly thus. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 What dost thou here ? 
 Home! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Home ! is Adricn there ? you're dumb, yet strive 
 For words ; I see them trembling on your lip. 
 But choked by pity. It was truth, all truth ! 
 Seized — the Bastile — and in your presence too ! 
 Cardinal, where is Adrien 1 Think, he saved 
 Your life : your name is infamy, if wrong 
 Should come to his ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Be sooth'd, child. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Child no more ;
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACV. 99 
 
 I love, and I am woman ! Hope and suffer — 
 
 Love, suftering, hope — what else doth make the strength 
 
 And majesty of woman? Where is Adrien'? 
 
 RICHELIEU to JOSEPH- 
 
 Your youth was never young ; you never loved : 
 Speak to her — 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Nay, take heed ; the king's command, 
 'Tis true — I mean — the — 
 
 JULIE to RICHELIEU. 
 
 Let thine eyes meet mine ; 
 Answer me but one word — I am a wife — 
 I ask thee for my home, my fate, my all ! 
 Wliere is my husband 1 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 You are Richelieu's ward, 
 A soldier's bride : they who insist on truth 
 Must out-face fear ; you ask me for your husband ? 
 There, where tlie clouds of heaven look darkest, o'er 
 The domes of the Bastile ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 I thank you, father ; 
 You see I do not shudder. Heaven forgive you 
 The sin of this desertion ! 
 
 RICHELIEU {detaining her). 
 Whither wouldst thou 1 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Stay me not. Fy ! I should be there already. 
 I am thy ward, and haply he may think 
 Thou'st taught me also to forsake the wretched ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I've fill'd those cells with many, traitors all. 
 Had they wives tool Thy memories, Power, are sol- 
 emn! 
 Poor sufferer ! think'st thou that yon gates of wo 
 Unbar to love 1 Alas, if love once enter, 
 'Tis for the last farewell ; between those walls 
 And the mute grave,* the blessed household sounds 
 
 * Selon I'usage de Louis XIII., faire arr^ter^quelqu'un pour crime 
 d'etat, et le faire mourir, I'etait a peu prfes le meme chose.— ie Clerc.
 
 100 Richelieu; or, [act iv. 
 
 Only heard once, while, hungering at the door, 
 The headsman whets the axe. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Oh, mercy ! mercy ! 
 Save him, restore him, father ! Art thou not 
 The cardinal-king 1 the lord of life and death. 
 Beneath whose light, as deeps beneath the moon. 
 The solemn tides of empire ebb and flow 1 
 Art thou not Richeheu"! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Yesterday I was ! 
 To-day, a veiy weak old man ! To-morrow, 
 I know not what ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Do you conceive his meaning ? 
 Alas ! I cannot. But metliinks my senses 
 Are duller than they were ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 The king is chafed 
 Against his servant. Lady, while we speak. 
 The lackey of the anteroom is not 
 More powerless than the Minister of France. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And yet the air is still ; Heaven wears no cloud ;* 
 
 [From Nature's silent orbit starts no portent 
 
 To warn the unconscious world ; albeit, this night 
 
 May with a morrow teem, which, in my fall. 
 
 Would carry earthquake to remotest lands. 
 
 And change the Christian globe. What wouldst thou, 
 
 woman ! 
 Thy fate and his, with mine, for good or ill, 
 Are woven threads. In my vast sum of hfe 
 Millions such units merge.] 
 
 Enter First Courtier. 
 
 nRST COURTIER. 
 
 Madame de Mauprat ! 
 Pardon, your eminence ; even now I seek 
 This lady's home, commanded by the king 
 To pray her presence. 
 
 * That in brackets omitted in representation.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 101 
 
 JULiR (clinging to Richelieu). 
 
 Think of my dead father ! 
 Think, how, an infant, chnging to your knees 
 And looking to your eyes, the wrinkled care 
 Fled from your brow before the smile of childhood, 
 Fresh from the dews of heaven ! Think of this. 
 And take me to your breast. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 To those who sent you ! 
 And say you found the virtue they would slay 
 Here, couch'd upon this heart, as at an altar, 
 And shelter'd by the wings of sacred Rome ! 
 Begone ! 
 
 FIRST COURTIER. 
 
 My lord, I am your friend and servant ; 
 Misjudge me not ; but never yet was Louis 
 So roused against you : shall I take this answer ? 
 It were to be your foe. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 All time my foe, 
 If I, a priest, could cast this holy sorrow 
 Forth from her last asylum ! 
 
 FIRST COURTIER. 
 
 He is lost ! 
 
 (Exit First Courtier.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 God help thee, child ! she hears not ! Look upon her ! 
 The storm that rends the oak, uproots the flower. 
 Her father loved me ! and in that age 
 When friends are brothers ! She has been to me 
 Soother, nurse, plaything, daughter. Are these tears ■?* 
 Oh ! shame, shame ! dotage ! 
 
 * Like Cromwell and Rienzi, Richelieu appears to have been 
 easily moved to tears. The queen mother, who put the hardest in- 
 terpretation on that humane weakness, which is natural with very 
 excitable temperaments, said that " II pleurait quand il voulait." I 
 may add, to those who may be inclined to imagme that Richelieu 
 appears m parts of this scene too dejected for consistency with so 
 imperious a character, that it is recorded of him that " quand ses af- 
 faires ne reuississoient pas, il se trouvoit abattu et epouvante, et 
 quand il obtenoit ce qu'il souhaitoit, il 6toit fi6r et insultant." 
 
 12
 
 102 RICHELIEU; or, [act iv. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Tears are not for eyes 
 That rather need the lightning, which can pierce 
 Through barred gates and triple walls, to smite 
 Crime, where it cowers in secret ! The despatch! 
 Set every spy to work ; the morrow's sun 
 Must see that written treason in your hands, 
 Or rise upon your ruin. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, and close 
 Upon my corpse ! I am not made to live ; 
 Friends, glory, P^rance, all reft from me ; my star, 
 Like some vain holyday mimicry of fire. 
 Piercing imperial heaven, and falling down, 
 Rayless and blacken'd, to the dust, a thing 
 For all men's feet to trample! Yea! to-morrow, 
 Triumph or death ! Look up, child ! Lead us, Joseph. 
 
 As they are going out, enter Baradas and De Beringhen. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 My lord, the king cannot believe your eminence 
 So far forgets your duty and his greatness 
 As to resist his mandate ! Pray you, madam, 
 Obey the king ; no cause for fear! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 My father ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 She shall not stir ! 
 
 An orphan — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You are not of her kindred ; 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 And her country is her mother ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 The country is the king ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, is it so ? 
 Then wakes the power which in the age of iron
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 103 
 
 Burst forth to curb the great and raise the low. 
 
 Mark where she stands ! around her form I draw 
 
 The awful circle of our solemn church ! 
 
 Set but a foot within that holy ground, 
 
 And on thy head — yea, though it wore a crown — 
 
 I launch the curse of Rome ! 
 
 BABADAS. 
 
 I dare not brave you ! 
 I do but speak the orders of my king. 
 The church, your rank, power, very word, my lord, 
 Suffice you for resistance : blame yourself 
 If it should cost you power ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 That my stake. Ah ! 
 Dark gamester ! what is thine 1 Look to it well ! 
 Lose not a trick. By this same hour to-morrow 
 Thou shalt have France, or I thy head ! 
 
 BARADAs {aside to De Beringhen). 
 
 He cannot 
 Have the despatch ? 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 No : were it so, your stake 
 Were lost already. 
 
 JOSEPH (aside). 
 
 Patience is your game ! 
 Reflect you have not the despatch ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Oh ! monk ! 
 Leave patience to the saints, for I am human ! 
 Did not thy father die for France, poor orphan'? 
 And now they say thou hast no father ! Fy ! 
 Art thou not pure and good '] if so, thou art 
 A part of that — the beautiful, the sacred — 
 Which in all climes men that have hearts adore, 
 By the great title of their mother country ! 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 He wanders ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 So cling close unto my breast ;
 
 104 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT V. 
 
 Here, where ihou droop'st, lies France! I am very 
 
 feeble ; 
 Of little use it seems to either now. 
 Well, well, we will go home. 
 
 BARA.DAS. 
 
 In sooth, my lord, 
 You do need rest ; the burdens of tiie state 
 O'er task your health! 
 
 BicHELiEu {to Joseph). 
 I'm patient, see ! 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 
 His mind 
 And life are breaking fast ! 
 
 RICHELIEU {overhearing him). 
 
 Irreverent ribald ! 
 If so, beware the falling ruins ! Hark ! 
 I tell thee, scorner of these whitening hairs. 
 When this snow melteth there shall come a flood ! 
 Avaunt ! my name is Richelieu ; I defy thee ! 
 Walk blindfold on ; behind thee stalks the headsman. 
 Ha ! ha ! how pale he is ! Heaven save my country ! 
 
 [Falls back in Joseph'' s artns. 
 
 (Baradas exit, followed by De Beringhen, betraying his 
 exultation by his gestures.) 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 jFouvti) JBaj). 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Bastile — a corridor — in the background the door of 
 one of the condemned cells. 
 
 Enter Joseph and jailer. 
 
 JAILER. 
 
 Stay, father, I will call the governor. [Exit jailer. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 He has it, then, this Huguet ; so we learn 
 From Fran<;ois ; humph ! Now if I can but gain
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 105 
 
 One moment's access, all is ours ! Tlie cardinal 
 Trembles 'tween life and death. His life is power: 
 Smite one, slay both ! No ji^sculapian drugs, 
 By learned quacks baptized with Latin jargon, 
 E'er bore the healing which that scrap of parchment 
 Will medicine to Ambition's flagging heart. 
 France shall be saved, and Joseph be a bishop ! 
 
 Enter Governor and Joseph. 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Father, j'^ou wish to see the prisoners Huguet 
 And the young knight De Mauprat ] 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 So my office 
 And the lord cardinal's order warrant, son ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Father, it cannot be : Count Baradas 
 
 Has summon'd to the Louvre Sieur De Mauprat. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 WeU, well! But Huguet— 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Dies at noon. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 At noon ! 
 No moment to delay the pious rites 
 Which fit the soul for death ; quick, quick, admit me ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 You cannot enter, monk ! Such are my orders ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Orders ! vain man ! the cardinal still is minister. 
 His orders crush all others ! 
 
 GOVERNOR {lifting his hat). 
 Save his king's! 
 See, monk, the royal sign and seal affix'd 
 To the count's mandate. None may have access 
 To either prisoner, Huguet or De Mauprat, 
 Not even a priest, without the special passport 
 Of Count de Baradas. I'll hear no more !
 
 106 RICHELIEU ; or, ikct v. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Just Heaven ! and are we baffled thus ! Despair ! ! 
 Think on the cardinal's power ; beware his anger. 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 I'll not be menaced, priest 1 Besides, the cardinal 
 
 Is dying and disgraced ; all Paris knows it. 
 
 You hear the prisoner's knell. [Bell tolls. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 I do beseech you ! 
 The cardinal is not dying. But one moment, 
 And — hist ! — five thousand pistoles ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 How ! a bribe, 
 And to a soldier gray with hairs of honour ! 
 Begone ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Ten thousand — twenty ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Jailer, put 
 This monk without our walls. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 By those gray hairs, 
 Yea, by this badge {touching the cross of St. Louis, ivorn 
 
 by the governor)., the guerdon of your valour ; 
 By all your toils — hard days and sleepless nights — 
 Borne in your country's service, noble son, 
 Let me but see the prisoner ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 No! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 He hath 
 Secrets of state, papers in which — 
 
 GOVERNOR {interrupting). 
 
 I know J 
 Such was his message to Count Baradas ; 
 Doubtless the count will see to it —
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 107 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 The count ! 
 Then not a hope ! You shall — 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Betray my trust ! 
 Never; not one word more; you heard me, jailer! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 What can be done I distraction ! Richelieu yet 
 
 Must — whati — I know not — thought, nerve, strength, 
 
 forsake me. 
 Dare you refuse the church her holiest rights ? 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 I refuse nothing, I obey my orders — 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 And sell your country to her parricides ! 
 Oh, tremble yet ! Richelieu — 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Begone ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Undone ! 
 
 [Exit Joseph, 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 A most audacious shaveling, interdicted 
 Above all others by the count — 
 
 JAILER. 
 
 I hope, sir, 
 I shall not lose my perquisites. The Sieur 
 De Mauprat will not be reprieved ? 
 
 GOVERNOR, 
 
 Oh, fear not : 
 The count's commands by him who came for Mauprat 
 Are to prepare headsman and axe by noon : 
 The count will give you perquisites enough; 
 Two deaths in one day ! 
 
 JAILER. 
 
 Sir, may Heaven reward him
 
 108 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT V. 
 
 Oh, by-the-way, that troublesome young fellow, 
 Who calls himself the prisoner Huguet's son, 
 Is here again ; implores, weeps, raves to see him. 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Poor youth, 1 pity him ! 
 
 Enter De Beringhen, follotved by Franqois. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN {to Franqois.) 
 Now, prithee, friend, 
 Let go my cloak ; you really discompose me. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 No, they will drive me hence : my father ! Oh ! 
 Let me but see him once — but once — one moment ! 
 
 DE BERINGHEN (lO gOVCmOr). 
 
 Your servant, messire ; this poor rascal, Huguet, 
 Has sent to see the Count de Baradas 
 Upon state secrets, that afllict his conscience. 
 The count can't leave his majesty an instant ; 
 I am his proxy. 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 The count's word is law ! 
 Again, young scapegrace ! How com'st thou admitted 1 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Oh ! a most filial fellow : Huguet's son ! 
 1 found him whimpering in the court below. 
 I pray his leave to say good-by to father, 
 Before that very long unpleasant journey 
 Father's about to take. Lot him wait here 
 Till I return. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 No ; take me with you. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Nay; 
 After me, friend ; the public first ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 The count's 
 Commands are strict. No one must visit Huguet 
 Without his passport.
 
 SCENE I.] THE CONSPIRACY. 109 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Here it is ! Pshaw ! nonsense ! 
 I'll be your surety. See, ray Cerberus, ' 
 He is no Hercules ! 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Well, you're responsible. 
 Stand there, friend. If, when you come out, my lord, 
 The youth slip in, 'tis your fault. 
 
 DE BERmGHEN. 
 
 So it is ! 
 Exit through the door of the cell, folloived by the jailer. 
 
 GOVERNOR. 
 
 Be calm, my lad. Don't fret so. I had once 
 A father too ! I'll not be hard upon you. 
 And so stand close. I must not see you enter : 
 You understand. Between this innocent youth 
 And that intriguing monk there is, in truth, 
 A wide distinction. 
 
 Re-enter Jailer. 
 
 Come, we'll go our rounds ; 
 I'll give you just one quarter of an hour ; 
 And if my lord leave first, make my excuse. 
 Yet stay, the gallery's long and dark ; no sentry 
 Until he reach the grate below. He'd best 
 Wait till I come. If he should lose the way, 
 We may not be in call. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 I'll tell him, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt governor and jailer. 
 He's a wise son that knoweth his own father. 
 I've forged a precious one ! So far, so well ! 
 Alas, what then ! this wretch has sent to Baradas ; 
 Will sell the scroll to ransom life. Oh, Heaven ! 
 On what a thread hangs hope ! 
 
 [Listens at the door. 
 Loud words : a cry ! 
 [Looks through the keyhole. 
 They struggle ! Ho ! the packet ! ! ! 
 
 [Tries to open the door. 
 K
 
 110 RICHELIEU ; OR, [aCT V. 
 
 Lost ! He has it, 
 The courtier has it. Huguet, spite his chains, 
 Grapples ! well done ! Now, now ! [Draivs back. 
 
 The gallery's long ! 
 And this is left us ! 
 
 [Drawing his dagger^ and standing behind the door. 
 
 Re-enter De Beringhen ivith the packet. 
 
 Victory ! 
 
 Yield it, robber ; 
 Yield it, or die. [A short struggle. 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 Off! ho! there! 
 
 FRANCOIS {grappling with him). 
 
 Death or honour ! 
 {Exeunt struggling. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The king^s closet at the Louvre. A suite of rooms in per- 
 spective at one side, 
 
 Baradas — Orleans. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 All smiles ! the cardinal's swoon of yesterday 
 
 Heralds his death to-day ; could he survive, 
 
 It would not be as minister ; so great 
 
 The king's resentment at the priest's defiance ! 
 
 All smiles ! and yet, should this accursed De Mauprat 
 
 Have given our packet to another. 'Sdeath ! 
 
 I dare not think of it ! 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 You've sent to search him 1 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Sent, sir, to seai > h ? that hireling hands may find 
 Upon him, naked, with its broken seal. 
 That scroll, whose every word is death ! No, no ; 
 These hands alone must clutch that awful secret.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. Ill 
 
 I dare not leave the palace, night or day, 
 
 While Richelieu lives ; his minions, creatures, spies — 
 
 Not one must reach the king ! 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 What hast thou done ! 
 
 BABADAS. 
 
 Summon'd De Mauprat hither T 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Could this Huguet, 
 Who pray'd thy presence with so fierce a fervour, 
 Have thieved the scroll ? 
 
 BARADA8. 
 
 Huguet was housed with us 
 The very moment we dismiss'd the courier. 
 It cannot be ! a stale trick for reprieve. 
 But, to make sure, I've sent our trustiest friend 
 To see and sift him. Hist ! here comes the king : 
 How fare you, sire 1 
 
 Enter Louis. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 In the same mind I have 
 Decided ! yes, he would forbid your presence. 
 My brother; yours, my friend ; then Julie too ; 
 Thwarts, braves, defies. {Suddenly turning to Baradas) 
 
 We make you minister. 
 Gaston, for you, the baton of our armies. 
 You love me, do you not 1 
 
 ORLEANS. 
 
 Oh, love you, sire^? 
 {Aside) Never so much as now. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 May I deserve 
 Your trust {aside) until you sign your abdication ! 
 My liege, but one way left to daunt De Mauprat, 
 And Julie to divorce. W^e must prepare 
 The death-writ ; what though sign'd and seal'd ! we can 
 Withhold the enforcement.
 
 112 RICHELIEU; OR, [act V. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Ah, you may prepare it ; 
 We need not urge it to effect. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Exactly ! 
 No haste, my Hege {looJdng at his icalch, and aside). He 
 may live one hour longer. 
 
 Enter Courtier, 
 
 COURTIER. 
 
 The Lady Julie, sire, implores an audience. 
 
 LOUIS, 
 
 Aha ! repentant of her folly ! Well, 
 Admit her. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Sire, she comes for Mauprat's pardon, 
 And the conditions — 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 You are minister. 
 We leave to you our answer. 
 
 {As Julie enters, the Captain of the Archers, hj another 
 door, and ivhispers Baradas.) 
 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 The Chevalier 
 De Mauprat waits below. 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 Now the despatch ! [Eccit ivilh officer. 
 
 Enter Julie, 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 My liege, you sent for me. I come where grief 
 Should come when guiltless, while the name of king 
 Is holy on the earth ! Here, at the feet 
 Of power, I kneel for mercy. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Mercy, Julie, 
 Is an affair of state. The cardinal should 
 In this be your inlerpreter.
 
 SCENB II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 113 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Alas! 
 I know not if that mighty spirit now 
 Stoop to the things of earth. Nay, while I speak, 
 Perchance he hears the orphan by the throne 
 Where kings themselves need pardon ; oh, my liege, 
 Be father to the fatherless ; in you 
 Dwells my last hope ! 
 
 Enter Baradas. 
 
 BARADAS (aside). 
 
 He has not the despatch ; 
 Smiled, while we search'd, and braves me. Oh ! 
 
 LOUIS (gently). 
 
 What wouldst thou ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 A single life. You reign o'er millions. What 
 Is o?ie man's life to you ? and yet to me 
 'Tis France, 'tis earth, 'tis everything ! a life, 
 A human life — my husband's. 
 
 LOUIS (aside). 
 
 Speak to her, 
 I am not marble ; give her hope, or — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Madam, 
 Vex not your king, whose heart, too soft for justice, 
 Leaves to his ministers that solemn charge. 
 
 [Louis walks up the stage. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 You were his friend. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 I was before I loved thee. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Loved me ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Hush, Julie ; couldst thou misinterpret 
 My acts, thoughts, motives, nay, my very words, 
 Here, in this palace ? 
 
 K2
 
 114 RICHELIEU; OR, [aCT 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Now I know I'm mad ; 
 Even that memory fail'd me. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 I am young, 
 Well-born, and brave as Mauprat : for thy sake 
 I peril what he has not, fortune, power ; 
 All to great souls most dazzhng. I alone 
 Can save thee from yon tyrant, now my puppet ! 
 13e mine ; annul the mockery of this marriage, 
 And on the day I clasp thee to my breast 
 De Mauprat shall be free. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Thou durst not speak 
 Thus in his ear {pointing to Louis). Thou double trai. 
 
 tor! tremble. 
 I will unmask thee. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 1 will say thou ravest. 
 And see this scroll ! its letters shall be blood ! 
 Go to the king, count with me word for word ; 
 And while you pray the life, I write the sentence ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Stay, stay {rushing to the hng)- You have a kind and 
 
 princely heart. 
 Though sometimes it is silent: you were born 
 To poivei-; it has not flush'd you into madness. 
 As it doth meaner men. Banish my husband. 
 Dissolve our marriage, cast me to that grave 
 Of human ties, whore hearts congeal to ice, 
 In the dark convent's everlasting winter 
 (Surely enough for justice, hate, revenge), 
 But spare this life, thus lonely, scathed, and bloomless; 
 And when thou stanrFst for judgment on thine own, 
 The deed shall shine beside thee as an angel. 
 
 LOUIS {much affected). 
 
 Go, go to Baradas ; annul thy marriage, 
 And— 
 
 JULIE {anxiously, and ivatching his countenance). 
 Be his bride !
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 115 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 A form, a mere decorum. 
 Thou knowst I love thee. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Oh thou sea of shame. 
 And not one star. 
 
 {The king goes up the stage, and passes through the 
 suite of rooms at the side in evident emotion). 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Well, thy election, Julie ; 
 This hand, his grave ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 His grave ! and I — 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Can save him. 
 Swear to be mine. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 That were a bitterer death ! 
 Avaunt, thou tempter! I did ask his life 
 A boon, and not the barter of dishonour. 
 The heart can break and scorn you : wreak your malice ; 
 Adrien and I vi'ill leave you this sad earth. 
 And pass together hand in hand to Heaven ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 You have decided. 
 [ Withdraivs to the side scene for a moment, and returns. 
 Listen to me, lady ; 
 ( am no base intriguer. I adored thee 
 from the first glance of those inspiring eyes ; 
 With thee entwined ambition, hope, the future. 
 I toill not lose thee ! I can place thee nearest. 
 Ay, to the throne ; nay, on the throne, perchance ; 
 My star is at its zenith. Look upon me ; 
 Hast thou decided ? 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 No, no ; you can see 
 How weak I am : be human, sir : one moment.
 
 116 RICHELIEU; OR, [aCT V. 
 
 BARADAS {stamping his foot, De Mauprat appears at the 
 
 side of the stage, guarded). 
 Behold thy husband ! Shall he pass to death, 
 And know thou couldst have saved him ] 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Adrien, speak ! 
 But say you wish to live ! if not 3'^our wife, 
 Your slave ; do with me as you will 1 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Once more ! 
 Why this is mercy, count ! Oh, think, my Julie, 
 Life, at the best, is sliort, but love immortal ! 
 
 BARADAS {taking Julie'' s hand). 
 Ah, loveliest — 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Go, that touch has made me iron. 
 We have decided — death ! 
 
 BARADAS {to De Mouprat). 
 
 Now, say to whom 
 Thou gavest the packet, and thou yet shalt live. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 I'll tell thee nothing ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Hark, the rack ! 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 Thy penance 
 For ever, wretch ! What rack is like the conscience 1 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 I shall be with thee soon. 
 
 BARADAS {giving the writ to the officer). 
 
 Hence, to the headsman. 
 The doors are thrown open. The huissier announces 
 
 " His Eminence the Cardinal Duke de Richelieu.'''' 
 Enter Richelieu, attended hy gentlemen, pages, dfc, 
 pale, feeble, and leaning on Joseph, followed hy three 
 secretaries of state, attended by sub-secretaries with 
 papers, dfc.
 
 SCENE II.] THE CONSPIRACY. 117 
 
 JULIE {rushing to Richelieii). 
 You live, you live, and Adrien shall not die ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Not if an old man's prayers, himself near death, 
 Can aught avail thee, daughter ! Count, you now 
 Hold what I held on earth ; one boon, my lord, 
 This soldier's life. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 The stake, my head ! you said it ! 
 I caimot lose one trick. Remove your prisoner. 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 No ! No ! 
 
 Enter Louis from the rooms beyond. 
 
 RICHELIEU {to officer). 
 
 Stay, sir, one moment. My good liege, 
 Your wornout servant, wiihng, sire, to spare you 
 Some pain of conscience, would forestall your wishes. 
 I do resign my office. 
 
 DE MAUPRAT. 
 
 You ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 All's over! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 My end draws near. These sad ones, sire, I love them, 
 I do not ask his life ; but suffer justice 
 To halt, until I can dismiss his soul. 
 Charged with an old man's blessing. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Surely ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Sire— 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Silence ; small favour to a dying servant. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 You would consign your armies to the baton
 
 118 .RICHELIEU; OR, [aCT V 
 
 Of your most honour'd brother. Sire, so be it ! 
 
 Your minister, the Count de Baradas ; 
 
 A most sagacious choice ! Your secretaries 
 
 Of state attend me, sire, to render up 
 
 The legers of a realm. I do beseech you. 
 
 Suffer these noble gentlemen to learn 
 
 The nature of the glorious task that waits them, 
 
 Here, in my presence. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 You say well, my lord. 
 {To secretaries, as he seats himself.) 
 Approach, sirs, 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 I — I — faint! air — air — 
 {Joseph and a gentleman assist him to a sofa, placed beneath 
 
 a ivindow). 
 
 I thank you ; 
 Draw near, my children. 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 He's too weak to question. 
 Nay, scarce to speak ; all's safe. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Mancnt Richelieu, Mauprat, and Julie, the last hveeling be- 
 side the cardinal ; the officer of the guard behind Mau 
 vrat. Joseph near Richelieu, walching the king. Louis. 
 Baradas at the back of the king^s chair, anxious and dis- 
 turbed. Orleans at a greater distance, careless and tri- 
 umphant. The secretaries. As each secretary advances 
 in his turn, he takes the portfolios from the sub-secretaries. 
 
 FIRST SECRETARY. 
 
 The affairs of Portugal, 
 Most urgent, sire. One short month since the Duke 
 Braganza was a rebel. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 And is still !
 
 SCENE III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 119 
 
 FIRST SECRETARY. 
 
 No, sire, ^e has succeeded ! He is now 
 
 Crown'd King of Portugal ; craves instant succour 
 
 Against the arms of Spain. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 We will not grant it 
 Against his lawful king. Eh, count ? 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 No, sire. 
 
 FIRST SECRETARY. 
 
 But Spain's your deadliest foe : whatever 
 
 Can weaken Spain must strengthen France. The car- 
 dinal 
 
 Would send the succours : {solemnly) balance, sire, of 
 Europe ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 The cardinal ! balance ! Well consider. Eh, count 1 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Yes, sire ; fall back. 
 
 FIRST SECRETARY. 
 
 But— 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Oh ! fall back, sir. 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Humph ! 
 
 SECOND SECRETARY. 
 
 The affairs of England, sire, most urgent : Charles 
 
 The First has lost a battle that decides 
 
 One half his realm ; craves moneys, sire, and succour. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 He shall have both. Eh, Baradas ? 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Yes, sire. " 
 (Oh that despatch ! my veins are fire !)
 
 120 RICHELIEU; OR, [aCT V. 
 
 RICHELIEU {feebly, but iviih great distinctness). 
 
 My liege, 
 Forgive me ; Charles's cause is lost ! A man, 
 Named Cromwell, risen — a great man; your succour 
 Would fail, your loans be squander'd! Pause, reflect.* 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Reflect. Eh, Baradas^ 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Reflect, sire. 
 
 JOSEPH. ■ 
 
 Humph ! 
 
 LOUIS (aside). 
 
 I half repent ! No successor to Richelieu ! 
 Round me thrones totter ! dynasties dissolve ! 
 'I'he soil he guards alone escapes the earthquake ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Our star not yet eclipsed ! you mark the king 1 
 Oh ! had we the despatch ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ah! Joseph! Child, 
 Would I could help thee ! 
 
 Enter gentleman, lohispers Joseph, ivho exit hastily. 
 
 BARADAS {to secretary). 
 Sir, fall back. 
 
 SECOND SECRETARY. 
 
 But— 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Pshaw, sir! 
 
 THIRD SECRETARY {mysteriously). 
 
 The secret correspondence, sire, most urgent : 
 Accounts of spies, deserters, heretics. 
 Assassins, poisoners, schemes against yourself! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Myself! most urgent ! {looking on the documents). 
 
 * See in "Cinq Mars," vol. v., the striking and brilliant chapter 
 from which the interlude of the secretaries is borrowed.
 
 SCENE III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 121 
 
 Re-ente?- Joseph loith Frangois, ivhose pourpoint is streaked 
 with blood. Francois passes behind the cardinaVs at- 
 tendants, and, sheltered by them from the sight of Bar a- 
 das, c^c, falls at Richelieu's feet. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 Oh ! my lord ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Thou art bleeding ! 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 A scratch ; I have not failed ! {gives the packet.) 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hush ! {looking at the contents.) 
 
 THIRD SECRETARY {tO king). 
 
 Sire, the Spaniards 
 Have re-enforced their army on the frontiers. 
 The Due de Bouillon — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Hold ! In this department, 
 A paper — here, sire, read yourself; then take 
 The count's advice in't. 
 
 Enter De Beringhen hastily, and draws aside Baradas. 
 
 {Richelieu, to secretary, giving an open parchment.) 
 
 BARADAS {bursting from De Beringhen). 
 
 What ! and reft it from thee ! 
 Ha! hold! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Fall back, son ; it is your turn now ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 Death ! the despatch ! 
 
 LOUIS {reading). 
 
 To Bouillon, and sign'd Orleans ! 
 Baradas, too ! league witli our foes of Spain ! 
 Lead our Italian armies — what ! to Paris ! 
 Capture the king ; my health require repose ; 
 Make me subscribe my proper abdication ; 
 
 L
 
 122 RICHELIEU ; OR, [ACT V. 
 
 Orleans, my brother, regent ! Saints of Heaven ! 
 These are the men I loved ! 
 
 (Baradas draws, attempts to rush out, is arrested. Or- 
 leans, endeavouring to escape more quickly, meets 
 Joseph's eye, and stops short.) 
 
 (Richelieu falls back.) 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 See to the cardinal ! 
 
 BARADAS. 
 
 He's dying ! and I yet shall dupe the king ! 
 
 LOUIS (rushing to Richelieu). 
 Richelieu ! lord cardinal ! 'tis / resign ! 
 Reign thou ! 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Alas ! too late ! he faints ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Reign, Richelieu ! 
 RICHELIEU (^feebly). 
 With absolute power T 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Most absolute ! Oh ! live ! 
 If not for me, for France ! 
 
 richelieu. 
 France ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Oh ! this treason ! 
 The army, Orleans, Bouillon — Heavens ! the Spaniard ! 
 Where will they be next week 1 
 
 RICHELIEU (starting up). 
 
 There, at my feet ! 
 
 (To First and Second Secretary.) 
 
 Ere the clock strike ! The envoys have their answer ! 
 
 (To Third Secretary, with a ring.) 
 
 This to De Cliavigny ; he knows the rest ; 
 No need of parchment here ; he must not halt
 
 SCENE III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 123 
 
 For sleep, for food. In my name, mine ! he will 
 Arrest the Due de Bouillon at the head 
 Of his army ! Ho ! there, Count de Baradas, 
 Thou hast lost the stake ! Away with him !* 
 
 {^As the guards open the folding-doors, a view of the 
 
 anteroom beyond, lined loith courtiers. Baradas 
 
 passes through the line.) 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 (Snatching De Mauprat''s death-ivarrant from the officer.) 
 See here De Mauprat's death- writ, Julie ! 
 Parchment for battledores ! Embrace your husband ! 
 At last the old man blesses you ! 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Oh joy! 
 You are saved ; you live ; I hold you in these arms. 
 
 MAUPRAT. 
 
 Never to part — 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 No, never, Adrien, never ! 
 LOUIS (peevishly). 
 One moment makes a startling cure, lord cardinal If 
 
 BICHELIEU. 
 
 Ay, sire, for in one moment there did pass 
 
 Into this wither'd frame the might of France ! 
 
 My own dear France, I have thee yet ; I have saved thee ! 
 
 I clasp thee still ! it was thy voice that call'd me 
 
 Back from the tomb ! What mistress like our country ■? 
 
 * The passion of the drama requires this catastrophe for Baradas. 
 He, however, survived his disgrace — though stripped of all his rapid- 
 ly-acquired fortunes— and the daring that belonged to his character 
 won him distinction in foreign service. He returned to France after 
 Richelieu's death, but never regained the same court influence. He 
 had taken the vows of a Knight of M alta, and Louis made him a prior ! 
 
 + The sudden resuscitation of Richelieu (not to strain too much 
 on the real passion which supports him in this scene) is in conform- 
 ance with the more dissimulatmg part of his character. The extra- 
 ordinary mobility of his countenance (latterly so deathlike, save when 
 the mind spoke in the features) always lent itself to stage effect of 
 this nature. The queen mother said of him, that she had seen him 
 one moment so feeble, cast down, and " semi-mort," that he seemed 
 to be on the point of giving up the ghost, and the next moment he 
 would start up full of animation, energy, and life.
 
 124 RICHELIEU ; OR, [actv 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 For Mauprat's pardon — well ! But Julie, Richelieu, 
 Leave me one thing to love ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 A subject's luxury ! 
 Yet, if you must love something, sire, love me! 
 
 LOUIS {smiling in spite of himself). 
 Fair proxy for a young fresh demoiselle ! 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Your heart speaks for my clients. Kneel, my children, 
 And thank your king — 
 
 JULIE. 
 
 Ah, tears like these, my liege, 
 Are dews that mount to Heaven. 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 Rise, rise, be happy. 
 {Richelieu beckons to De Beringhen.) 
 DE BERINGHEN {falteringly) . 
 My lord — you are — most — happily — recover'd. 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 But you are pale, dear Beringhen : this air 
 
 Suits not your delicate frame ; I long have thought so : 
 
 Sleep not another night in Paris. Go, * 
 
 Or else your precious life may be in danger. 
 
 Leave France, dear Beringhen ! 
 
 DE BERINGHEN. 
 
 I shall have time, 
 More than I ask'd for, to discuss the pate. 
 
 [Exit De Beringhen. 
 
 RICHELIEU {to Orleans). 
 For you, repentance, absence, and confession ! 
 
 {To Franqois.) 
 Never say /aj7 again. Brave boy! 
 
 {To Joseph.) 
 
 He'll be— 
 A bishop first.
 
 SCENE III.] THE CONSPIRACY. 125 
 
 JOSEPH. 
 
 Ah, cardinal — 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 Ah, Joseph ! 
 
 (To Louis, as De Mauprat and Julie converse apart.) 
 
 See, my liege, see through plots and counterplots, 
 Through gain and loss, through glory and disgrace, 
 Along the plains where passionate Discord rears 
 Eternal Babel, still the holy stream 
 Of human happiness gUdes on ! 
 
 LOUIS. 
 
 And must we 
 Thank for that also — our prime minister I 
 
 RICHELIEU. 
 
 No, let us own it : there is One above 
 Sways the harmonious mystery of the world 
 Ev'n better than prime ministers. 
 
 Alas ! 
 Our glories float between the earth and heaven 
 Like clouds which seem pavilions of the sun, 
 And are the playthings of the casual wind ; 
 Still, Hke the cloud which drops on unseen crags 
 The dews the wild flower feeds on, our ambition 
 May from its airy height drop gladness down 
 On unsuspected virtue ; and the flower 
 May bless the cloud when it hath pass'd away !* 
 
 * The image and the sentiment in the concluding lines are bor- 
 rowed from a passage in one of the writings attributed to the cardinal. 
 
 THE END OF RICHELIEU. 
 
 L2
 
 ODES.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE ODES. 
 
 The connexion between the lyric and dramatic 
 forms of poetical composition is sufficiently ancient 
 and established to warrant me, I trust, in subjoining to 
 an historical play three attempts, equally elaborate, in 
 the less cultivated art of the historical ode. Written 
 at least with the advantage of mature experience, I 
 venture to express a hope that these odes may, in some 
 degree, redeem the faults of poems put forth, a few 
 years since, in the rashness of early youth. If I re- 
 quire an additional apology for associating them with 
 the drama of " Richelieu," let me frankly acknowledge 
 that I am not influenced by the belief, that, should 
 their more obtrusive companion meet with any suc- 
 cess, they are likely to obtain a larger circle of readers, 
 and, therefore, a fairer judgment, than, in the present 
 indisposition to poetry, an author whose reputation, 
 such as it may be, lies in other departments of litera- 
 ture, could reasonably expect for a volume exclusively 
 devoted to lyrical compositions : and, on the other 
 hand, if impartial judges should pass an unfavourable 
 verdict on the pretensions, I have, at least, put them 
 forward in a more unassuming shape than that of a 
 separate publication. 
 
 London, April, 1839.
 
 O D E I. 
 
 THE 
 
 LAST DAYS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 " Her delight is to sit in the dark, and sometimes, with shedding 
 tears, to bewail Essex." — Contemporaneous Correspondence. 
 
 " She refused all consolation ; few words she uttered, and they 
 were all expressive of some hidden grief which she cared not to re- 
 veal. But sighs and groans were the chief vent which she gave to 
 her despondency, and which, though they discovered her sorrows, 
 were never able to ease or assuage them. Ten days and nights 
 she lay upon the carpet leaning on cushions which her maids broxight 
 her," &c. — Hume. 
 
 Rise from thy bloody grave, 
 
 Thou soft Medusa of the Fated Line,* 
 Whose evil beauty look'd to death the brave ; 
 
 Discrowned queen, around whose passionate shame 
 Terror and grief the palest flowers entwine, 
 
 That ever veil'd the ruins of a name 
 
 With the sweet parasites of song divine ! 
 Arise, sad ghost, arise, 
 
 And if revenge outlive the tomb, 
 Thou art avenged. Behold the doomer brought to doom ! 
 Lo, where thy mighty murderess lies, 
 
 The sleepless couch, the sunless room, 
 And, quell'd the eagle eye and lion mien. 
 The wo-worn shadow of the Titan queen ! 
 
 II. 
 
 There, sorrow-stricken, to the ground, 
 AlLke by night and day, 
 
 * Mary Stuart—" The soft Medusa" is an expression strikingly 
 applied to her in her own day.
 
 132 
 
 The heart's blood from the inward wound 
 
 Ebbs silently away. 
 And oft she turns from face to face 
 
 A sharp and eager gaze, 
 As if the memory sought to trace 
 The sign of some lost dwelling-place, 
 
 Beloved in happier days ; 
 Ah, what tiie clew supplies 
 
 In the cold vigil of a hireling's eyes? 
 Ah, sad in cluldless age to weep alone, 
 
 And start and gaze, to find no sorrow save our own ! 
 Oh soul, thou speedest to thy rest away, 
 
 But not upon the pinions of the dove ; 
 When death draws nigh, how miserable they 
 
 Who have outlived all love ! 
 
 As on tlie solemn verge of night 
 
 Lingers a weary moon. 
 She wanes, the last of every glorious light 
 
 That bathed with splendour her majestic noon: 
 The stately stars that, clustering o'er the isle, 
 
 Luird into glittering rest the subject sea; 
 Gone the great masters of Italian wile, 
 False to the world beside, but true to thee ! 
 Burleigh, the subtlest builder of thy fame. 
 
 The gliding craft of winding Walsinghame; 
 They who exalted yet before thee bowed ; 
 
 And that more dazzling chivalry, the band 
 
 That made thy court a faery land. 
 
 In which thou wert enshrined to reign alone, 
 
 The Gloriana of the diamond throne : 
 
 All gone, and left thee sad amid the cloud ! 
 
 III. 
 
 To their great sires, to whom thy youth was known, 
 
 Who from thy smile, as laurels from the sun, 
 Drank the immortal greenness of renown, 
 Succeeds the cold lip-homage scantly won 
 From the new race whose hearts already bear 
 The wise-man's offerings to th' unworlliy heir. 
 There, specious Bacon's* unimpassion'd brow, 
 
 * See the servile and heart-sickening conespondence maintained 
 by Francis Bacon atid Robert Cecil (the sons of Elizabeth's most 
 faitlitul friends) with the Scottish cor.rt during the queen's last ill- 
 ness.
 
 133 
 
 And crook-back Cecil's ever earthward eyes 
 Watching the glass in which the sands run low ; 
 
 But deem not fondly there 
 To weep the fate or pour th' averting prayer 
 
 Have come those solemn spies ! 
 
 Lo, at the regal gate 
 The impatient couriers wait ; 
 
 To speed from hour to hour the nice account 
 That registers the grudged unpitied sighs 
 Which yet must joy delay, before 
 The Stuart's tottering step shall mount 
 The last great Tudor's throne, red with his mother's 
 gore! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh piteous mockery of all pomp thou art, 
 Poor child of clay, worn out with toil and years ! 
 As, layer by layer, the granite of the heart 
 Dissolving, melteth to the weakest tears 
 That ever village maiden shed above 
 The grave that robb'd her quiet world of love. 
 Ten days and nights upon that floor 
 
 Those weary Umbs have lain ; 
 And every hour but added more 
 
 Of heaviness to pain. 
 As gazing into dismal air 
 She sees the headless phantom there. 
 The victim round whose image twined 
 The last wild love of womankind ; 
 That love which, in its dire excess, 
 Will blast where it can fail to bless. 
 And, like the lightning, flash and fade 
 In gloom along the ruins it has made. 
 'Twere sad to see from those stern eyes 
 
 Th' unheeded anguish feebly flow ; 
 And hear the broken word that dies 
 
 In moanings faint and low ; 
 But sadder still to mark, the while, 
 The vacant stare, the marble smile. 
 And think, that goal of glory won, 
 
 How sligTit a shade between 
 The idiot moping in the sun 
 And England's giant queen!* 
 
 * " It was after labouring for nearly three weeks under a morbid 
 melancholy, which brought on a stupor not unmixed with some iii- 
 
 M
 
 134 
 
 V. 
 
 Call back the gorgeous past ! 
 
 Lo, England white-robed for a holyday ! 
 
 While, choral to the clarion's kingly blast, 
 
 Peals shout on shout along the virgin's way ; 
 As through the swarming streets rolls on the long array. 
 
 Mary is dead! Look from your fire-won homes, 
 
 Exulting martyrs ! on the mount shall rest 
 Truth's ark at last ! th' avenging Lutheran comes 
 
 And clasps the Book ye died for to her breast !* 
 With her, the flower of all the land, 
 
 The highborn gallants ride, 
 And, ever nearest of the band, 
 With watchful eye and ready hand, 
 Young Dudley's form of pride If 
 Ah, ev'n in that exulting hour 
 Love half allures the soul from power, 
 And blushes, half-suppressed, betray 
 
 The woman's hope and fear ; 
 Like blooms which in the early May 
 Bud forth beneath a timorous ray. 
 And mark the mellowing year. 
 While steals the sweetest of all worship, paid 
 
 Less to the monarch than the maid. 
 Melodious on the ear ! 
 
 dications of a disordered fancy, that the queen expired. — Aikin's 
 translation of a Latin letter (author nnknou'ii) to Edmund Lamhert. 
 
 Robert Carey, who was admitted to an interview with Elizabeth 
 in her last illness, after describing the passionate anguish of her sighs, 
 observes, " that, in all his lifetime before, he never knew her fetch a 
 sigh but when the Queen of Scots was beheaded." Yet this Robert 
 Carey, the well-born mendicant of her bounty, was the liist whose 
 eager haste and joyous countenance told James that the throne of the 
 Tudors was at last vacant. 
 
 * "When she (Klizabeth) was conducted through London amid 
 the joyful acclamations of her subjects, a boy, who personated Truth, 
 was let down from one of the triumphal arches, and presented to her 
 a copy of the Bible. 8 he received the book with the most gracious 
 deportment, placed it next her bosom," &c. — Hume. 
 
 t Robert Dudley, afterward the Leicester of doubtful fame, attend- 
 ed Elizabeth in her passage to the Tower. The streets, as she pass- 
 ed along, were spread with the finest gravel ; banners and pennons, 
 hangings of silk, of velvet, of cloth of gold, were suspended from the 
 balconies, musicians and singers were stationed amid the populace, 
 as she rode along in her purple robes, preceded by her heralds, &c.
 
 135 
 
 VI. 
 
 Call back the gorgeous past ! 
 The lists are set, the trumpets sound, 
 Bright eyes, sweet judges, throned around; 
 And stately on the glittering ground 
 The old chivalric life ! 
 *' Forward."* The signal word is given ; 
 
 Beneath the shock the greensward shakes ; 
 The lusty cheer, the gleaming spear, 
 . The snow-plume's falling flakes, 
 
 The fiery joy of strife ! 
 Thus, when, from out a changeful heaven 
 O'er waves in eddying tumult driven 
 A stormy smile is cast, 
 Alike the gladsome anger takes 
 The sunshine and the blast ! 
 Who is the victor of the day ? 
 Thou of the delicate form, and golden hair, 
 And manhood glorious in its midst of May; 
 Thou who upon thy shield of argent bearest 
 The bold device, " Tiie loftiest is the fairest!" 
 As bending low thy stainless crest, 
 " The vestal throned by the west" 
 Accords the old Provencal crown 
 Which blends her own with thy renown; 
 Arcadian Sidney, nursling of the muse. 
 Flower of fair chivalry, whose bloom was fed 
 
 With daintiest Castaly's most silver dews, 
 Alas! how soon thy amaranth leaves were shed; 
 Born, what th' Ausonian minstrel dream'd, to be\ 
 Time's knightly epic pass'd from earth with thee ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Call back the gorgeous past ! 
 
 Where, bright and broadening to the main. 
 
 Rolls on the scornful river ; 
 Stout hearts beat high on Tilbury's plain, 
 
 Our Marathon for ever ! 
 
 ♦ The customary phrase was " Laissez alter." 
 
 f What difference between the Tancred of Tasso and the Sidney 
 of England, except that the last was of bone and flesh ? " The Life 
 of Sir Philip Sidney," as Campbell finely expresses it, " was poetry 
 put in action." With him died the Provengal and the Norman, the 
 ideal of the middle ages.
 
 136 
 
 No breeze above, but on the mast 
 The pennon shook as with the blast. 
 Forth from the cloud the day-god strode, 
 O'er bristling helms the splendour glow'd, 
 Leap'd the loud joy from earth to heaven, 
 As, through the ranks asunder riven, 
 
 The warrior- wo man rode ! 
 
 Hark, thrilling through the armed hne 
 The martial accents ring, 
 "Though mine the woman's form, yet mine 
 " The heart of England's king !"* 
 
 Wo to the island and the maid ! 
 
 The pope has preach'd the new crusade,! 
 
 His sons have caught the fiery zeal ; 
 
 The monks are merry in Castile ; 
 Bold Parma on the main ; 
 
 And through the deep exulting sweep 
 The thunder-steeds of iSpain.J 
 What meteor rides the sulphurous gale 1 
 The flames have caught the giant sail ! 
 Fierce Drake is grappling prow to prow ; 
 God and St. George for victory now ! 
 Death in the battle and the wind ; 
 Carnage before and storm behind ; 
 Wild shrieks are heard above the hurtling roar 
 By Orkney's rugged strands and Erin's ruthless shore. 
 
 Joy to the island and the maid ! 
 
 Pope Sixtus wept the last crusade ; 
 
 His sons consumed before his zeal 
 
 The monks are woful in Castile ; 
 
 * " I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I 
 have the heart of a king, and of a king of England too." — Elizabeth's 
 harangue at Tilfniry Camp. 
 
 She rode bareheaded through the ranks, a page bearing her helmet, 
 mounted on a war-horse, clad in steel, and wielding a general's 
 truncheon in her hand. Nothing in Napoleon's speeches excels the 
 simple and grand eloquence of her imperishable address to her sol- 
 diery. 
 
 + " Sextus Qu-intus, the present pope, famous for his capacity 
 and his tyranny, had published a crusade against England, and had 
 granted plenary indulgences to every one engaged in the present in- 
 vasion." — Hume. This pope was nevertheless Elizabeth's admirer 
 as well as foe, and said, not very clerically, " If a son could be born 
 from us two, he would be master of the world." 
 
 t " Steeds of the sea" was the poetic synonyme for ships with the 
 old Runic bards.
 
 137 
 
 Your monument the main, 
 The glaive and gale record your tale, 
 Ye thunder-steeds of Spain ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Turn from the gorgeous past ; 
 Its lonely ghost thou art ! 
 A tree, that, in a world of bloom. 
 Droops, spectral in its leafless gloom, 
 
 Before the griding blast ; 
 But art thou fallen then so low T 
 Art thou so desolate ? wan shadow, No ! 
 
 Crouch'd, suppliant by the grave's unclosing portal, 
 Love, which proclaims thee human, bids thee know 
 A truth more lofty in thy lowliest hour 
 Than shallowest glory taught to deafen'd power, 
 " What's human is immortal !" 
 'Tis sympathy which makes sublime ! 
 Never so reverent in thy noon of time 
 As now, when o'er thee hangs the midnight pall ; 
 No comfort, pomp ; and wisdom no protection ; 
 Hope's " cloud-capp'd towers and solemn temples" 
 
 gone — 
 Mid memory's wrecks, eternal and alone ; 
 Type of the woman-deity Affection ; 
 That only Eve which never knew a fall, 
 Sad as the dove, but, like the dove, surviving all ! 
 
 M2
 
 ODE 11. 
 
 CROMWELL'S DREAM. 
 
 [The conception of this ode originated in a popular tradition of Cronri- 
 well's earher days. It is thus strikingly related by Mr. Forster, in 
 his recent and very valuable Life of Cromwell : " He had laid 
 himself down, too fatigued to hope for sleep, when suddenly the 
 curtains of his bed were s.lovvly withdrawn by a gigantic figure, 
 which bore the aspect of a woman, and which, gazing at him si- 
 lently for a while, told him that he should, before his death, be the 
 greatest man in England. He remembered when he told the 
 story, and the recollection marked the current of his thoughts, 
 that the figure had not made mention of the ii'ord king." Alteration 
 has been made in the scene of the vision and the age of Cromwell.] 
 
 The moor spread wild and far 
 
 In the sharp whiteness of a wintry shroud, 
 
 Midnight yet moonless ; and the winds ice-bound, 
 And a gray dusk — not darkness — reign'd around, 
 Save where the paleness of a sudden star 
 Peer'd o'er some haggard precipice of cloud. 
 Where on the wold, the triple pathway cross'd, 
 A sturdy wanderer, wearied, lone, and lost, 
 Paused and gazed round ; a dwarfd but aged yew 
 O'er the wan rime its gnomelike shadow threw ; 
 The spot invited, and by sleep opprcss'd, 
 Beneath the boughs he laid him down to rest. 
 A man of stalwart limbs and hardy frame. 
 Meet for the antique time when force was fame, 
 Youthful in years — the features yet betray 
 Thoughts rarely mellow'd till the locks are gray ; 
 Round the firm lips the lines of solemn wile 
 Might warn the wise of danger in the smile; 
 But the blunt aspect spoke more sternly still 
 That craft of craft, the Stubborn Will : 
 'I'hat which, let what may betide, 
 Never halts nor swerves aside ; 
 From afar its victim viewing. 
 Slow of speed, but sure-pursuing ;
 
 i39 
 
 1 
 
 Through maze, up mount, still bounding on its way, 
 Till it is grimly couch'd beside the conquer'd prey ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The loftiest fate will longest lie 
 In unrevealing sleep ; 
 
 And yet unknown the destined race. 
 
 Nor yet his soul had walk'd with grace ; 
 
 Still, on the seas of Time 
 
 Drifted the ever-careless prime ; 
 
 But many a blast that o'er the sky 
 
 All idly seems to sweep, 
 Still while it speeds may spread the seeds. 
 
 The toils of autumn reap : 
 And we must blame the soil, and not the wind, 
 If hurrying passion leave no golden grain behind. 
 
 III. 
 
 Seize, seize, seize !* 
 Bind him strong in the chain, . 
 
 On his heart, on his brain. 
 Clasp the gyves of the iron sleep. 
 
 Seize, seize, seize, 
 Ye fiends that dimly sweep 
 Up from the cloudy deep. 
 Where Death holds ghastly watch beside his brother, 
 
 Ye pale impalpables, that are 
 
 Shadows of truths afar, 
 
 Prophets that men call Dreams ; 
 The phantom birth of that mysterious mother, 
 
 Who, by the Ebon Gate, 
 
 Beyond the shore where daylight streams, 
 
 Sits, muttering spells for mortal state. 
 Young with eternal years, the Titan-sibyl Fate ! 
 
 Prophets that men call Dreams ! 
 Seize, seize, seize. 
 
 Bind him strong in the chain, 
 
 On his heart, on his brain, 
 
 Clasp the gyves of the iron sleep ! 
 Awakes or dreams he still ? 
 
 His eyes are open with a glassy stare, 
 
 * Ad6e, ?ia6e, 7ia6e, laSe (seize, seize, seize).— JEschyl. Eu- 
 men., 125.
 
 140 
 
 On the fix'd brow the large drops gather chill, 
 
 And horror Hke a wind stirs through the lifted liair.* 
 
 Before him stands the tiling of dread, 
 A giant shadow motionless and pale ! 
 As those dim Lemur-vapoursf that exhale 
 From the rank grasses rotting o'er the dead, 
 And startle midnight with the mocking show 
 Of the still, shrouded bones that sleep below : 
 
 So the wan image which the vision bore 
 
 Was outlined from the air, no more 
 Than served to make the loathing sense a bond 
 Between the world of life and grislier worlds beyond. 
 
 " Behold !" the shadow said, and lo, 
 
 Whore the blank heath had spread, a smiling scene ; 
 
 Soft woodlands sloping from a village green,t 
 And, waving to blue Heaven, the happy cornfields 
 glow : 
 
 A modest roof, with ivy cluster'd o'er. 
 
 And childhood's busy mirth beside the door. 
 
 But, yonder, sunset sleeping on the sod, 
 Bow labour's rustic sons in solenm prayer; 
 
 And, self-made teacher of the trutlis of God, 
 The dreamer sees the Phantom-Cromwell there ! 
 " Art thou content, of these the greatest Thou" 
 Murmur'd the fiend, " the master and the priest!" 
 A sullen anger knit the dreamer's brow, 
 And from his scornful lips the words came slow, 
 
 * tc uKQav 
 
 Ael/i' vTtijMe Kgarog (jidCiav. 
 
 Soph. GEclip. Col., 1465. 
 
 + The Lemures or Larvse, the evil spirits of the dead, as the 
 Lares were the good. They haunted sepulchres — " loath to leave 
 the bodies that they loved." 
 
 X The farm of St. Ives, where Cromwell spent three years, after- 
 ward recalled with regret, though not unalnicted with dark hypo- 
 chondria and sullen discontent. Here, as Mr. Forster impressively 
 observes, " in the tenants that rented from him, in the labourers that 
 served under him, he sought to sow the seeds of his after troop of 
 Ironsides. . . . All the famous doctrines of his later and more cele- 
 brated years were tried and tested in the little farm of St. Ives. . . . 
 Before going to their fieldwork in the morning, they (his servants) 
 knelt down with their master in the touching equality of prayer; in 
 the evening they shared with him again the comfort and exaltation 
 of divine precepts." — Forster''s Cromwell.
 
 141 
 
 *' The greatest of the hamlet, demon, no !" 
 Loudlaugh'd the fiend, then trembled through the sky, 
 "Where haply angels watch'd, a warning sigh ; 
 And darkness swept the scene, and golden quiet ceased. 
 
 VI. 
 
 *' Behold !" the shadow said ; a hell-born ray 
 Shoots through the night, up leaps the unbless'd day, 
 Spring from the earth the dragon's armed seed, 
 The ghastly squadron wheels and neighs the spectre- 
 steed. 
 
 Unnatural sounds the mother-tongue 
 As loud from host to host the English warcry rung ; 
 
 Kindred with kindred blent in slaughter, lo 
 The dark phantasma of the prophet-wo ! 
 
 A gay and glittering band ! 
 Apollo's lovelocks in the crest of Mars ; 
 Light-hearted Valour, laughing scorn to scars ; 
 
 A gay and glittering band. 
 Unwitting of the scythe, the lilies of the land ! 
 
 Pale in the midst, that stately squadron boast 
 A princely form, a mournful brow; 
 
 And still, where plumes are proudest, seen, 
 
 With sparkling eye and dauntless mien, 
 The young Achilles* of the host. 
 
 On rolls the surging war, and now 
 Along the closing columns ring, 
 
 " Rupert" and " Charles," " The Lady of the Crown,"t 
 
 " Down with the Roundhead rebels, down !" 
 " St. George and England's king." 
 
 A stalwart and a sturdy band, 
 "Whose souls of sullen zeal 
 Are made by the Immortal Hand, 
 
 Invulnerable steel ! 
 A kneeling host, a pause of prayer, 
 A single voice thrills through the air 
 " They come. Up, Irozisides ! 
 For Truth and Peace unsparing smite ! 
 Behold the accursed Amalekite !" 
 The dreamer's heart beat high and loud, 
 
 * Prince Rupert. 
 
 t Henrietta Maria was the popular watchword of the Cavaliers.
 
 142 
 
 For, calmly through the carnage-cloud, 
 The scourge and servant of the Lord, 
 This hand the Bible, that the sword, 
 The Phantom-Cromwell rides ! 
 
 A lurid darkness swallows the array, 
 One moment lost ; the darkness rolls away, 
 And o'er tlie slaughter done 
 Smiles, with his eyes of love, the setting sun. 
 Death makes our foe our brother ; 
 And, meekly, side by side, 
 Sleep scowhng Hate and sternly smiling Pride, 
 On the kind breast of earth, the quiet mother ! 
 Lo, where the victor sweeps along, 
 The Gideon of the gory throng, 
 Beneath his hoofs the harmless dead. 
 The sunlight glory on his helmed head, 
 Before him steel-clad Victory bending, 
 Around, from heaven to earth ascending, 
 The fiery incense of triumphant song. 
 
 So, as some orb above a mighty stream 
 Sway'd by its law, and sparkling in its beam, 
 A power apart from that tempestuous tide, 
 Calm and aloft behold the Phantom-Conqueror ride ! 
 " Art thou content, of these the greatest Thou, 
 Hero and patriot ■?" murmur'd then the fiend. 
 The unsleeping dreamer answer'd, " Tempter, nay, 
 
 My soul stands breathless on the mountain's brow. 
 And looks beyond .'" Again swift darkness screen'd 
 
 The solemn chieftain and the fierce array. 
 And armed glory pass'd, like happier peace, away. 
 
 VII. 
 
 He look'd again, and saw 
 A chamber with funereal sables hung, 
 Wherein there lay a ghastly, headless thing. 
 That once had been a king ; 
 And by the corpse a living man, whose doom, 
 Had both been left to Nature's quiet law, 
 Were riper for the garden-house of gloom.* 
 
 * The reader will recall the well-known story of Cromwell open- 
 ing the coffin of Charles with the hilt of a private soldier's sword, and, 
 after gazing on the body some time, observing calmly, that it seemed 
 made for long hfe. —
 
 143 
 
 Rudely beside the gory clay were flung 
 A broken sceptre and an antique crown, 
 
 So, after some imperial tragedy 
 August alike with sorrow and renown, 
 
 We smile to see the gauds that moved our awe. 
 Purple and orb, in dusty lumber lie ; 
 
 Alas, what thousands, on the stage of Time, 
 
 liUvied the bawbles and revered the mime ! 
 
 PLiced by the trunk, with long and whitening hair 
 By dark-red gouts besprent, the severed head 
 Up to the gazer's musing eyes, the while, 
 Look'd with its livid brow and stony smile. 
 
 On that sad scene his gaze the dreamer fed. 
 
 Familiar both the living and the dead; 
 
 Terror, and hate, and strife concluded there, 
 Calm in his six-feet realm* the monarch lay ; 
 And by the Avarning victim's mangled clay 
 
 The Phantom-Cromwell smiled, and bending down 
 
 "With shadowy fingers, toy'd about the shadowy crown. 
 " Art thou content, at last, a greater thou 
 Than one to whom the loftiest bent the knee. 
 Brand to the false, but banner to the free — 
 Avenger and deliverer !" 
 
 " Fiend," replied 
 
 The dreamer, " who shall palter with the tide 1 
 
 Deliverer! Pilots who the vessel save 
 
 Leave not the helm while winds are on the wave. 
 
 The future is the haven of the now !" 
 
 " True," quoth the fiend ; again the darkness spread, 
 
 And night gave back to air the doomsman and the dead ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He look'd again ; and now 
 A lofty senate stern with many a form. 
 Not unfamiliar to the former strife ; 
 An anxious passion knit each gather'd brow ; 
 O'er all, that hush deep not serene, in life, 
 As in the air, prophetic of wild storm. 
 
 Uprose a stately shapef with dark-bright eye 
 
 " Had Nature been his executioner. 
 He would have outhved me !" — Cromwell, a MS. tragedy. 
 * A whole epic was in the stem epigram of the Saxon when asked 
 by the rival to his throne " What share of territory wilt thou give 
 me ?" " Six feet of land for a grave !" 
 
 t When Cromwell came down (leaving his musketeers without
 
 144 
 
 And worn cheek lighted with a feverish glow ; 
 It spoke, and at the aspect and the sound 
 The dreamer breath'd a fierce and restless sigh ; 
 An instinct bade him hate and fear 
 That unknown shape, as if a foe were near; 
 For, mighty in that mien of thoughtful youth, 
 Spoke fraud's most deadly foe — a soul on fire with 
 Truth ; 
 A soul without one stain 
 Save England's hallowing tears ; the sad and starry 
 Vane ! 
 There enters on that conclave high 
 A solitary man ; 
 And rustling through the conclave high 
 
 A troubled murmur ran ; 
 A moment more — loud riot all — 
 With pike and morion gleam the startled hall : 
 And there, where, since the primal date 
 
 Of Freedom's glorious morn, 
 The eternal people solemn sate, 
 The people's champion spat his ribald scorn! 
 Dark moral to all ages ! Blent in one 
 The broken fasces and the shatter'd throne ; 
 The deed that damns immortally is done ; 
 And F'oRCE, the Cain of nations, reigns alone ! 
 The veil is rent, the crafty soul lies bare ! 
 " Behold," the demon cried, " the Future Cromwell, 
 
 there ! 
 Art thou content, on earth the greatest thou. 
 Apostate and Usurper?" From his rest 
 The dreamer started with a heaving breast, 
 The better angels of the human heart 
 Not dumb to his : the hell-born laugh'd aloud, 
 And o'er the evil vision rush'd the cloud ! 
 
 the door) to dissolve the Long ParHament, Vane was in the act of 
 urging through the last stage the bill that would have saved the 
 republic. See Forster's spirited account of this scene, Life of Vane, 
 152.
 
 ODE III. 
 
 THE DEATH OF NELSON. 
 
 I. 
 
 The wind comes gently from the west,* 
 
 The smile is on the face of day, 
 And gayly o'er the ocean's breast 
 
 The breezes are at play ; 
 Along the deep, upon the foe. 
 
 The sails of England bear; 
 Above, the busy murmurs glow,! 
 Hush'd in the cabin, kneels below, 
 
 A lonely man in prayer. 
 He pray'd as ought to pray the brave 
 
 Before the seraph-guarded throne ; 
 He pray'd to conquer and to save. 
 
 The morn of that immortal strife, 
 
 More anxious for a foeman's life| 
 Than hopeful for his own. 
 
 n. 
 
 He rose \. before him glow'd, 
 
 In limned loveliness, that haunting face,^ 
 
 Where, through the roseate bloom of its aboile, 
 
 * The wind was now from the west, light breezes, &c. Having 
 seen that all was as it should be, Nelson retired to his cabin and 
 wrote the following prayer, &c. — Southey's Nelson. 
 
 t " The busy rmirrnur glows." — Gray. 
 
 i " May humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the 
 British fleet. For myself individually, I commit my hfe to Him 
 that made me," &c. — A^elsoti's last prayer. 
 
 (} A portrait of Lady Hamilton hung in his cabin. The undisguis- 
 ed and romantic passion with which he regarded it amounted almo??. 
 fo superstition. — Southey's Nelson. 
 
 N
 
 « 
 
 146 
 
 Look'd out the starry soul ! Celestial, thus, 
 ThrouKli sunset clouds, Idalian Hesperus, 
 Breaks on the lover loiterinfj by the sea 
 
 That laves the passionate shores of soft Parthenope. 
 The youngest-born of the Olympian race, 
 
 The Hebe of the martyr-demigod. 
 
 Never with looks of more voluptuous hght 
 
 The golden ether trod ; 
 
 Slow-stealing where at length from eartli reposed 
 
 Her hero-bridegroom, as more blandly bright, 
 
 Grew with her blush, the glory-purpled skies. 
 Grim by the throne of Zeusf the eagle closed 
 At her melodious step his charmed eyes, 
 
 And worn Alcides, of his woes beguiled, 
 
 Turn'd from the whispering Mars, and Love ambrosial 
 smiled. 
 
 HI. 
 
 What thoughts were his, the doom'd and lonely one. 
 Feeding the last look on that fatal face? 
 
 Did conscience darken o'er the evil done. 
 
 Or deem that love so deep could be disgrace! 
 
 Did that sole deed of vengeance wild and weak, 
 Which bow'd the warrior to the woman's slave, 
 
 Ghastlv and mournful o'er his memory break? 
 Mark'd he the corpse, rejected by the wave, 
 Floating once more upon the accusing sea; 
 
 The livid asjjcct and tlie snow-wliite hair; 
 
 The fix'd eyes fearful witli a stony glare; 
 Lifelike in deatli, the wrong'd Caraccioli ? J 
 
 * Partlieiiopp, the jjoetical name of Naples. It was in that city 
 that Nelson first saw Lady Hamilton. 
 
 t Pinil. Pyth, 1. 1 need scarcfily perhaps inform even the general 
 reader, that Zeus, in an apphcation of Greek mythology, is a more 
 appropriate name for the ihundergod ihan that of Jupiter. 
 
 X Prnice Francesco Caraccioli wa.'j at the head of the marine; 
 nearly seventy years of age ; served under the Neapolitan or Parihe- 
 nopJHun reiiubiie against his late sovereign. When tlie recovery of 
 Naples was evidently near, he applied to Cardmal Kufl'o and the 
 Duke of Calvirrano tor protection ; afterward endeavoured to secrete 
 liimself; was discovered in the disguise of a pea.sant, and carrifd on 
 lioard Lord Nelson's ship. He was tried, found guilty, sentenced to 
 death hy hanging, the evening of his apprehension; the president 
 (Count i'hurii) of the court-martial was his personal enemy. ... He 
 Rnlreated that he might be shot— in vain. It was obvious, says Mr. 
 ijoi.ili! y, from whom this account is abridged, tliat Nelson was in-
 
 147 
 
 Saw he the dark-wing'd Malice cower above 
 
 The doubtful bowers of his Armida-lovef 
 
 Heard he the sighs which gentler spirits breathe 
 
 O'er the one rose-leaf in the laurel wreath T 
 
 For envy harmless o'er the laurel blows, 
 
 But when did worm forego or canker spare the rose ? 
 
 Away; the centred soul, in hours like these, 
 
 Daunts not itself with phantom images; 
 
 One voice alone is heard within the heart, 
 
 " We loved, and we must part !" 
 Yet while the voice was heard, and heavily 
 Round that low cell boom'd the voice-echoing sea, 
 As clouds obscure the unswerving planet, fast 
 Across the luminous spirit rush'd the past. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The boy — once more — he was the lonely boy,* 
 Dreaming oracular sounds and weird, to hear 
 
 Where the brook murmur'd in a restless joy, 
 
 Or asking anxious Age with wonder, " What is fear!" 
 
 Away, upon the warrior seas. 
 Amid the icebergs of the deathlike main 
 Where daylight bleaches in the dreary air ;t 
 
 fluenced by an infatuated attachment to Lady Hamilton, then on 
 board, whose hatred against those whom she regarded the enemies 
 of the Neapolitan Court made her forget what was due to the char- 
 acter of her sex as well as of her country. The body was carried out 
 to a considerable distance and sunk m the bay, with three double- 
 headed shot, weighing 250 pounds, lied to its legs. Between two 
 and three weeks afterward, when the king was on board the Fou- 
 droyant, a Neapolitan fisherman came to the ship, and solemnly de- 
 clared that Caraccioli had risen from the bottom of the sea, and wa« 
 coming as fast as he could to Naples, swimming half out of the water. 
 The day being fair, Nelson, to please the king, stood out to sea; but 
 the .ship had not proceeded far before a body was distinctly seen up- 
 right in the water, and approaching them. It was soon recognised 
 to be, indeed, the corpse of Caraccioli, which had risen and floated, 
 while the great weights attached to the legs kept the body in a po- 
 sition like that of a living man. — Southey's Nelson. 
 
 * When a mere child he strayed a bird's nesting from his grand- 
 mother's house ; the dinner-hour elapsed ; he was absent, and could 
 notbefound; the alarm of the family was very great, &c. At length, 
 after search had been made for him in various directions, he was dis- 
 covered alone, sitting composedly by the side of a brook which he 
 could not get ovpr. " I wonder, child," said the old lady, when she 
 saw him, "that hunger and fear did not drive you home." " Fear !" 
 rephed the future hero, " 1 never saw fear ; what is it ?" — Ibid. 
 
 t The voyage of discovery towards the North Pole in which Nel-
 
 148 
 
 The broken frame, the fell disease, 
 
 And the dull anguish of the bed of pain ; 
 
 The hour when youth first wrestles with despair* 
 
 When the far Alps of Fame more giant seem 
 Seen through the morning mists that struggle with the 
 
 beam ; 
 Till sudden o'er the spiritual eye there broke 
 
 The radiant orb of the to-come renown. 
 And from the nightmare-sleep, prophetic woke 
 
 Genius — which is but hope to action grown — 
 And hail'd in Titan crags the footstool to its throne ! 
 Yet ever in that high career 
 
 What stinging doubts pursued ! 
 Hiss'd hydra envies in his ear. 
 
 And, round the steps of bleeding Toil, 
 
 The creeping things that clog the soil, 
 And, wh'le they cumber, wound, in thorny fetters coil. 
 
 Oh Fountain heard afar, but rarely view'd, 
 As the heart panteth for the water-brook, 
 So in the burning waste doth glory look 
 
 For thy life-giving well, melodious Gratitude! 
 
 V. 
 
 Fast flashing, like the phosphor gleam 
 
 Upon the soiithern seas, 
 Shine, rippling o'er his waking dream, 
 
 The wavelike memories. 
 They rush'd — the triumphs of that crowded life — 
 The hot delight of Strife. 
 
 The Nile's avenging day, 
 Aboukir's reddening bay. 
 
 The thunder-sceptre ravish'd from the Gaul, 
 
 son served. " The sky was generally loaded with hard white clouds, 
 from which it was never entirely free, even in the clearest weather." 
 — Southei/^s IVdson. 
 
 * " The disease baffled all power of medicine ; he was reduced 
 almost to a skeleton : the use of hi.s limbs was for some time entirely 
 
 lost, &,c Long afterward, when the name of Nelson was 
 
 known as widi^ly as that of England itself, he spoke of the feelings 
 which he at this time endured. ' I felt impressed,' said he, ' with a 
 feeling that I should never rise in my profession. My mind was 
 staggered with a view of the difficulties I had to surmount. I could 
 discover no means of reaching the object of my ambition. After a 
 long and gloomy revery, in which I almost wished to throw myself 
 overboard, a sudden glow of patriotism was kindled within me,' &c. 
 From that time he often said, a radiant orb was su.spended in hig 
 Uiiad's eye, which urged him onward to renown." — Ibid.
 
 149 
 
 They rush'd — the visions and the victories ; 
 
 The swarming streets, the festive hall; 
 A nation's choral and sublime acclaim ; 
 
 And, as the air with one orb's arrowy light, 
 Earth radiant with one name ! 
 
 From tliese he tiirn'd to holier thoughts away, 
 
 Sad with the wisdom of the preacher's song ; 
 
 For he had felt how loud applauses die. 
 
 As custom hackneys to the vulgar eye 
 
 The fame, not so the wrong ! 
 For slander is the echo of repute, 
 And strikes from hill to hill wlien glory's tromp is mute. 
 To the calm spot in this loud world, he turn'd 
 
 Where laugh'd the eyes too young his loss to weep ; 
 Oh, how, once more, the boding father yearn'd 
 
 To watch one fair face in the happy sleep. 
 As when (that parting hour) in pious care 
 By his child's couch he knelt* — she did not hear his 
 prayer ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The phantom shapes are flown ! 
 
 As ghosts before the day. 
 The unsubstantial memories glide away 
 
 Into their closing grave. 
 
 The hour has claim'd its own ! 
 
 Aloft, the hurrying tread, the gathering hum ; 
 Around, the brightening sky, the fresh'ning water; 
 
 More near and near the fated squadrons come; 
 Fast o'er the dread suspense rushes the storm of slaugh- 
 ter, 
 
 And the heart bounds forth from its gloom 
 
 Over the tides of its solemn doom. 
 
 As the hero's bark, when the rousing gale 
 
 Shakes the sullen sleep from its gladdening sail, 
 Bounds over the roaring wave ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! from wave to sky, 
 Arose the sea-queen's signal-cry ; 
 
 •^ Horatia Nelson Thompson, believed to be his daughter, and so 
 indeed he called her the last time that he pronounced her name. 
 The last minutes which Nelson passed at Merton were employed in 
 praying over this child as she lay sleeping. — Southey's Nelson. 
 
 N2
 
 150 
 
 From heart to heart electric ran 
 
 Those words of simple beauty, 
 England expects that every man 
 
 This day shall do his duty ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Full on the foe the sunbeams shine. 
 
 And our seamen gaze on the glittering line, 
 
 Thirty-and-three their numbers be, 
 
 Like giants they stride through the groaning sea. 
 
 Our seamen gazed with a glad delight; 
 
 Ne'er had they seen such a goodly sight ; 
 
 Then they glanced at each other, and " Oh," they 
 said, 
 
 " How well they will look at our own * Spithead.' "* 
 
 IX. 
 
 At the head of the line goes the " Victory,"! 
 
 With Nelson on the deck ; 
 And on his breast the orders shine| 
 
 Like the stars on a shatter'd wreck. 
 For ruthless had the lightning been 
 
 That flash'd from the stormy fame ; 
 And only spared the laurels, green^ 
 
 O'er the rents of the ruin'd frame. 
 " Look out, look out," cried Nelson, " see" 
 
 (For so the fight began) 
 *' How ' the Sovereign'll steers through the Frenchman's 
 
 line 
 * Astern of the Santa Ann." 
 " Look out, look out," cried CoUingwood, 
 As he burst through the Frenchman's line, 
 " If Nelson could in our place have stood, 
 
 * The sun shone on the sails of the enemy, and their well-formed 
 line, with their numerous three-deckers, made an appearance which 
 any other assailants would have thought formidable. But the Brit- 
 ish sailors only admired the beauty and the splendour of the spectacle ; 
 and, in full confidence of winning what they saw, remarked to each 
 other, " What a line sight yonder ships would make at Spithead V 
 — Southey's IVelson. 
 
 t " The Victory," Nelson's ship. 
 
 j He wore that day, as usual, his admiral's frockcoat, bearing on 
 the left breast four stars of the different orders with which he was 
 invested. — Ibid. 
 
 () I need scarcely observe, that, according to the poetical super 
 stition of the ancients, the lightning never scathed the laurel. 
 
 II The Royal Sovereign, commanded by CoUingwood.
 
 151 
 
 And have been but here, the first to steer 
 
 Through the midst of the Frenchman's Ime."* 
 Now from the fleet of the foeman past 
 
 Ahead of "the Victory," 
 A four-deck'd ship with a flagless mast, 
 
 An Anak of the sea; 
 His gaze on the ship Lord Nelson cast, 
 
 " Oho, my old friend," quoth he, 
 " Since again we have met, we must all be glad 
 To pay our respects to the Trinidad !"t 
 Full on the bow of the giant foe 
 
 Our gallant " Victory" runs ; 
 Through the dark'ning smoke the thunder broke 
 
 O'er lier deck from a hundred guns : 
 But we answer'd not by a single shot. 
 Though our booms and the maintop fell, 
 
 Until we were suited with two to one. 
 
 For we liked the odds we had always won. 
 
 Here, to the left, at length we bad 
 
 The saint of the ocean — Trinidad ; 
 
 There, to the right, loom'd the bulky might 
 Of the grim Redoubtable. 
 
 Then out in her pride, and from either side,. 
 Spoke the wrath of the " Victory." 
 Cries Hardy, " My lord, we must run on board 
 One of their braggarts to break the line : 
 Which shall it be ?" Saith our king of the sea 
 (And we heard through the rt)ar his careless voice), 
 "It matters not much, you may take your choice."! 
 So the helm to port. O'er the bounding brine 
 
 With a shout we burst, where the shot came worst 
 From the grim Redoubtable. 
 As swarms of bees on the summer trees, 
 Her tops were filled with the Tyrolese,i^ 
 And their bullets came with a dastard aim 
 Round the mark which the brave would have deem'd 
 divine ; 
 
 Where, o'er the gentlest heart that e'er 
 
 * " What would Nelson give to be here !" said Collingwood, de- 
 hghted at being first in the heat of the fire.— Southey's Nelson. 
 
 t The Santissima Trinidad. Nelson's old acquaintance, as be used 
 to call her, was distinguishable only by her four decks. 
 
 t " Take your choice, Hardy, it does not signify much." — 
 Ibid. 
 
 () " Her tops, like those of all the enemy's ships, were filled with 
 riflemen (the Tyrolese)." — Ibid.
 
 152 
 
 Bade carnage cease or conquest spare, 
 The stars of glory shine. 
 On the other side of the foeman press'd 
 
 Our dauntless Temeraire ; 
 Boarded in turn — for the ships were four — 
 And the huge guns plied with a slackened roar, 
 As, breast to breast, the vessels rest ; 
 We fought like landsmen there ! 
 The Redoubtable no more replied 
 To our guns. " She has struck," our Nelson cried ; 
 " No pennon waves on her sullen mast ; 
 She has struck, and the time to destroy is past ;• 
 I have prayM our Lord with a Christian's prayer. 
 Though our arms may win, that our hearts may spare." 
 Scarce the words were spoke, through the lurid smoke, 
 
 Oh God, we saw hira fall ; 
 From the ship he had bid our guns forbear, 
 Came the murderous rifle-ball. 
 
 XII. 
 
 As down Sicilian Etna's burning side, 
 The waning terrors of the liquid hell 
 
 Fainter and dimlier grow ! 
 So the spent rage of battle grimly died 
 
 O'er the far-booming ocean's labouring swell ; 
 
 But, ever and anon, the sudden flame 
 Shot from some flying sail, 
 
 And the last vengeance of the vanquish'd came 
 In loud despair upon the cloudy gale. 
 
 They fly — still dealing death — they fly — the foe ! 
 
 So lions from the circliug spears retire, 
 
 With horrent jaws that menace as they go ; 
 So hurr}-ing comets that depart in ire. 
 Shake from their demon-urns the swart malignant fire ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But where was he, the noblest son 
 
 Of the triumphant isle 1 
 Where — England's loftiest victory won — 
 
 Her hero of the Nile ? 
 
 * " He twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, 
 supposing that she had struck, because her great guns were silent. 
 From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his 
 death. A ball," tkc. — Sotuhey's XeUon.
 
 153 
 
 Lo, on his couch, the victor-victim lying, 
 
 Save to the few, the fatal stroke unknown ; 
 Above, his gladsome crew, his pennon flying, 
 
 And he, with that dark angel, death, alone ! 
 
 But ever as the loud hurra* 
 Timed with triumphant peal his latest day. 
 
 By each new conquest o*er the scattering foe, 
 Flash'd on the ashen cheek the flickering glow. 
 And, like a star that pales beneath the morn, 
 
 When gradual broadening o'er the solemn sky, 
 So life grew dark as glory drew more nigh! 
 
 Vain on that gentle heart the levin came ; 
 
 Nor bays nor mingling myrtle there uptom ; 
 And thoughts, like echoes in a shrine, repeat 
 Familiar memories indistinctly sweet. 
 
 That blend his England's with his Emma's name.f 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The last guns heard that famous day 
 
 Along the deep were dying ; 
 No flag, save ours, within the bay 
 
 On a single mast was flying : 
 When the captain came where Nelson lay, 
 
 The chaplain by his side. 
 His hand he press'd, his cheek he kiss'd : 
 
 " Look up,'" the captain cried ; 
 " Twenty have struck and the rest have fled, 
 
 We have won the victor}- 1'' 
 "Thank God, thank God," then feebly said 
 
 The Sidney of the sea ;X 
 "My duty is done."^ So the race was run, 
 
 And thus our Nelson died. 
 
 ♦ As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurra'd, and at 
 every hurra a risible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and 
 marked the countenance of the dying hero. — Soiakev's iVekon. 
 
 t " Next to his country she occupied his thoughts." — Ibid. 
 
 X Nelson resembled Sidney in his fate, but yet more in his human- 
 ity. Each insisted, at the last, that the surgeon should leave him 
 and attend to those to whom Jie might be useful. 
 
 J< " Thank God, I have done my duty !" These words he repeat- 
 y pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered.— 
 Ibid. 
 
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