The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06

ESTHER. I told you so! It is misfortune's road.

Enter the QUEEN accompanied by MANRIQUE DE LARA and several others.

QUEEN. They told me that the King was in this place.

GARCERAN. He was, but went away.

QUEEN. The Jewess here.

MANRIQUE. Arrayed like madness freed from every bond,             With all the tinsel-state of puppet-play!             Lay off the crown, for it befits thee not,             Even in jest; the mantle also doff!

[ESTHER has taken both off.]

What has she in her hand?

RACHEL. It is my own.

MANRIQUE. But first we'll see!

ESTHER. Nay, we are not so poor             That we should stretch our hands for others' goods!MANRIQUE (going toward the side door).             And, too, in yonder chamber let us look,             If nothing missing, or perhaps if greed             With impudence itself as here, has joined.

GARCERAN (barring the way).

Here, father, call I halt!

MANRIQUE. Know'st thou me not?

GARCERAN. Yes, and myself as well. But there be duties             Which even a father's rights do not outweigh.MANRIQUE. Look in my eye! He cannot bear to do it!             Two sons I lose on this unhappy day.

(_To the _QUEEN.)

Will you not go?QUEEN. I would, but cannot. Yes,             I surely can, by Heaven, for I must.

(To GARCERAN.)

             Although your office an unknightly one,             I thank you that you do it faithfully;             'Twere death to see—but I can go and suffer—             If you should meet your master ere the eve,             Say, to Toledo I returned—alone.

[The QUEEN and her suite go out.]

GARCERAN. Woe worth the chance that chose this day of all,             To bring me home—from war to worse than war!

RACHEL (to ESTHER, who is busied with her).

And had my life been forfeit, I'd have stayed.

ESTHER (to GARCERAN).

I pray you now to bring us quickly home.

GARCERAN. First, let me ask the King his royal will.

(Knocking at the side door.)

             Sire! What? No sign of life within? Perchance             An accident? Whate'er it be—I'll ope!

[The KING steps out and remains standing in the foreground as the others withdraw to the back of the stage.]

KING. So honor and repute in this our world             Are not an even path on which the pace,             Simple and forward, shows the tendency,             The goal, our worth. They're like a juggler's rope,             On which a misstep plunges from the heights,             And every stumbling makes a butt for jest.             Must I, but yesterday all virtues' model,             Today shun every slave's inquiring glance?             Begone then, eager wish to please the mob,             Henceforth determine we ourselves our path!

(Turning to the others.)

What, you still here?

GARCERAN. We wait your high command.

KING. If you had only always waited it,             And had remained upon the boundary!             Examples are contagious, Garceran.GARCERAN. A righteous prince will punish every fault,             His own as well as others'; but, immune,             He's prone to vent his wrath on others' heads.KING. Not such a one am I, my friend. Be calm!             We are as ever much inclined to thee;             And now, take these away, forever, too.             What's whim in others, is, in princes, sin.

(_As he sees _RACHEL approaching.)

             Let be! But first this picture lay aside,             And put it in the place from whence you took 't.             It is my will! Delay not!RACHEL (to ESTHER).                                      Come thou, too.

(As both approach the side door).

Hast thou, as is thy wont, my picture on?

ESTHER. What wilt

RACHEL. My will—and should the worst betide—

[They go to the side door.]

KING. Then to the border, straight I'll follow thee;             And there we'll wash in Moorish blood away             The equal shame that we have shared this day,             That we may bear once more the gaze of men.

[The girls return.]

RACHEL. I did it.

KING. Now away, without farewell!

ESTHER. Our thanks to thee, O Sire!

RACHEL. Not mine, I say.

KING. So be it; thankless go!

RACHEL. I'll save it up.

KING. That is, for never!

RACHEL. I know better.

(To ESTHER.) Come.

[They go, accompanied by GARCERAN, ISAAC bowing deeply.]

KING. And high time was it that she went; in sooth,             The boredom of a royal court at times             Makes recreation a necessity.             Although this girl has beauty and has charm             Yet seems she overbold and violent,             And one does well to watch what one begins.             Alonzo!

[Enter a servant.]

SERVANT. Mighty Sire?

KING. The horses fetch.

SERVANT. Toledo, Sire?

KING. Nay, to Alarcos, friend.             We're for the border, for the war, and so             Make ready only what we need the most.             For in Toledo four eyes threaten me;             Two full of tears, the other two, of fire.             She would not leave my picture here behind,             And bade defiance unto death itself.             And yet there needed but my stern command             To make her put it back where it belonged.             She tried her actress arts on me, that's all;             But did she put it in the frame again?             Since I am leaving here for many moons             Let all be undisturbed as 'twas before;             Of this affair let every trace be gone.

[He goes into the ante-chamber. A pause as one of the servants takes up from the chair the clothes which RACHEL had worn, but holds the crown in his hand. The KING comes back holding RACHEL'S picture.]

KING. My picture gone—and this one in its place!             It is her own, and burns within my hand—

(Throwing the picture on the floor.)

             Avaunt! Avaunt! Can boldness go so far?             This may not be, for while I think of her             With just repugnance, this her painted image             Stirs up the burning passion in my breast.             Then, too, within her hands my picture rests!             They talk of magic, unallowèd arts,             Which this folk practises with such-like things             And something as of magic o'er me comes—

(To the servant.)

             Here, pick this up and spur thee on until             Thou overtake them.

SERVANT. Whom, my liege?

KING. Whom? Whom?             The girls of course, I mean, and Garceran;             Return this picture to the girls and ask—

SERVANT. What, Sire?

KING. Shall my own servants then become             The sharers in the knowledge of my shame?             I'll force th' exchange myself, if it must be!             Take up the picture—I will touch it not!

[The servant has picked up the picture.]

KING. How clumsy! Hide it in your breast; but nay,             If there, it would be warmed by other's glow!             Give 't here, myself will take it; follow me—We'll             overtake them yet! But I surmise,             Since now suspicion's rife, there may some harm,             Some accident befall them unawares.             My royal escort were the safest guide.             Thou, follow me!

[He has looked at the picture, then has put it in his bosom.]

                   Stands there not, at the side,             The Castle Retiro, where, all concealed,             My forebear, Sancho, with a Moorish maid—!

SERVANT. Your Majesty, 'tis true!

KING. We'll imitate             Our forebears in their bravery, their worth,             Not when they stumble in their weaker hours.             The task is, first of all to conquer self—And             then against the foreign conqueror!             Retiro hight the castle?—Let me see!             Oh yes, away! And be discreet! But then—Thou             knowest nothing! All the better. Come!

[Exit with servant.]

ACT III

Garden in the royal villa. In the background flows the Tagus. A roomy arbor toward the front at the right. At the left, several suppliants in a row, with petitions in their hands. ISAAC stands near them.

ISAAC. You were already told to linger not.             My daughter soon will come to take the air.             And he is with her—he; I say not who.             So tremble and depart, and your requests             Take to the King's advisers in Toledo.

[He takes the petition from one of them.]

Let's see! 'Twon't do.

PETITIONER. You hold it upside down.

ISAAC. Because the whole request is topsy-turvy turvy—And you are, too. Disturb no more—depart.

2D PETIT. Sir Isaac, in Toledo me you knew.

ISAAC. I know you not. In these last days my eyes             Have suddenly grown very, very weak.2D PETIT. But I know you! Here is the purse of gold             You lost, which I herewith restore to you.ISAAC. The purse I lost? I recognize it! Yea,             'Twas greenish silk—with ten piasters in't!

2D PETIT. Nay, twenty.

ISAAC. Twenty? Well, my eye is good;             My mem'ry fails me, though, from time to time!             This sheet, no doubt, explains the circumstance—Just             where you found the purse, perhaps, and how.             There is no further need that this report             Should go on file. And yet, just let me have't!             We will convey it to the proper place,             That every one may know your honesty!

[The petitioners present their petitions; he takes one in each hand and throws them to the ground.]

No matter what it be, your answer's there.

(To a third.)

             I see you have a ring upon your hand.             The stone is good, let's see!

[The suppliant hands over the ring.]

                                           That flaw, of course,             Destroys its perfect water! Take it back.

[He puts the ring on his own finger.]

3D PETIT. You've put it on your own hand!

ISAAC. What, on mine?             Why so I have! I thought I'd given it back.             It is so tight I cannot get it off.

3D PETIT. Keep it, but, pray, take my petition too.

ISAAC (busy with the ring).             I'll take them both in memory of you.             The King shall weigh the ring—I mean, of course,             Your words—although the flaw is evident—The             flaw that's in the stone—you understand.             Begone now, all of you! Have I no club?             Must I be bothered with this Christian pack?

[GARCERAN has meanwhile entered.]

GARCERAN. Good luck! I see you sitting in the reeds,             But find you're pitching high the pipes you cut.ISAAC. The royal privacy's entrusted me;             The King's not here, he does not wish to be.             And who disturbs him—even you, my lord,             I must bid you begone! Those his commands.GARCERAN. You sought a while ago to find a club;             And when you find it, bring it me. I think             Your back could use it better than your hand.ISAAC. How you flare up! That is the way with Christians?             They're so direct of speech—but patient waiting,             And foresight, humble cleverness, they lack.             The King is pleased much to converse with me.GARCERAN. When he is bored and flees his inner self,             E'en such a bore as you were less a bore.

ISAAC. He speaks to me of State and of finance.

GARCERAN. Are you, perhaps, the father of the new             Decree that makes a threepence worth but two?ISAAC. Money, my friend, 's the root of everything.             The enemy is threat'ning—buy you arms!             The soldier, sure, is sold, and that for cash.             You eat and drink your money; what you eat             Is bought, and buying's money—nothing else.             The time will come when every human soul             Will be a sight-draft and a short one, too;             I'm councilor to the King, and if yourself             Would keep in harmony with Isaac's luck—GARCERAN. In harmony with you? It is my curse             That chance and the accursed seeming so             Have mixed me in this wretched piece of folly,             Which to the utmost strains my loyalty.

ISAAC. My little Rachel daily mounts in grace!

GARCERAN. Would that the King, like many another one,             In jest and play had worn youth's wildness off!             But he, from childhood, knowing only men,             Brought up by men and tended but by men,             Nourished with wisdom's fruits before his time,             Taking his marriage as a thing of course,             The King now meets, the first time in his life,             A woman, female, nothing but her sex,             And she avenges on this prodigy             The folly of too staid, ascetic youth.             A noble woman's half, yes all, a man—             It is their faults that make them woman-kind.             And that resistance, which the oft deceived             Gains through experience, the King has not;             A light disport he takes for bitter earn'st.             But this shall not endure, I warrant thee!             The foe is at the borders, and the King             Shall hie him where long since he ought to be;             Myself shall lead him hence. And so an end.ISAAC. Try what you can! And if not with us, then             You are against us, and will break your neck             In vain attempt to clear the wide abyss.

(The sound of flutes.)

             But hark! With cymbals and with horns they come,             As Esther with King Ahasuerus came,             Who raised the Jews to fame and high estate.GARCERAN. Must I, then, see in this my King's debauch             A picture of myself from early days,             And be ashamed for both of us at once?

[A boat upon which are the KING, RACHEL and suite, appears on the river.]

KING. Lay to! Here is the place—the arbor here.

RACHEL. The skiff is rocking—hold me, lest I fall.

[The KING has jumped to the shore.]

RACHEL. And must I walk to shore upon this board             So thin and weak?

KING. Here, take my hand, I pray!

RACHEL. No, no, I'm dizzy.

GARCERAN (to himself).

Dizzy are you? Humph!

KING (who has conducted her to the shore).

It is accomplished now—this mighty task!

RACHEL. No, never will I enter more a ship.

(Taking the KING's arm.)

             Permit me, noble Sire, I am so weak!             Pray feel my heart, how fev'rishly it beats!

KING. To fear, is woman's right; but you abuse it.

RACHEL. You now, hard-hearted, take away your aid!             And, oh, these garden walks, how hard they are!             With stones, and not with sand, they're roughly strewn             For men to walk on, not for women's feet.

KING. Put down a carpet, ye, that we have peace.

RACHEL. I feel it well—I merely burden you!             Oh, were my sister only here with me,             For I am sick and tired unto death!             Naught but these pillows here?

(Throwing the pillows in the arbor violently about.)

No, no, no, no!KING (laughing).I see your weakness happily abates.

(_Catching sight of _GARCERAN.)

Ah, Garceran! Behold, she's but a child!

GARCERAN. A spoiled child, surely!

KING. Yes, they all are that.             It suits her well!

GARCERAN. According to one's tastes!

KING. See, Garceran! I feel how wrong I am;             And yet I know there needeth but a nod,             A simple word, to make it all dissolve—This             dream—into the nothing that it is.             And so I suffer it because I've need,             In this confusion which myself have caused.             How is the army?GARCERAN. As you long have known,             The enemy is arming.KING. So shall we.             A few days more, and I shall put away             This toying from me, and forevermore;             Then time and counsel shall be found again.

GARCERAN. Mayhap the counsel, but the time slips by!

KING. With deeds we shall regain the ground that's lost.

RACHEL. I hear them speaking; and I know of what—Of             And not be lonesome in this concourse loud.             I see you come not. No, they hold you back.

[Weeping.]

             Not any comfort give they me, nor joy.             They hold me here, apart, in slavery.             Would I were home again in father's house,             Where every one is at my beck and call,             Instead of here,—the outcast of contempt.

KING. Go thou to her!

GARCERAN. What? Shall I?

KING. Go, I say!

RACHEL. Sit down by me, but nearer, nearer—so!             Once more I say, I love you, Garceran.             You are, indeed, a knight without a flaw,             Not merely knight in name, as they it learn—             Those iron, proud Castilians—from their foes,             The Moors.—But these Castilians imitate             In manner borrowed, therefore rough and crude,             What those, with delicate and clever art,             Are wont to practise as a native gift.             Give me your hand. Just see, how soft it is!             And yet you wield a sword as well as they.             But you're at home in boudoirs, too, and know             The pleasing manners of a gentler life.             From Dona Clara cometh not this ring?             She's far too pale for rosy-cheekèd love,             Were not the color which her face doth lack             Replaced by e'er renewing blush of shame.             But many other rings I see you have—             How many sweethearts have you? Come, confess!

GARCERAN. Suppose I ask the question now of you?

RACHEL. I've never loved. But I could love, if e'er             In any breast that madness I should find             Which could enthrall me, were my own heart touched.             Till then I follow custom's empty show,             Traditional in love's idolatry,             As in the fanes of stranger-creeds one kneels.KING (who meanwhile has been pacing up and down, now stands in the foreground at the left and speaks in an aside to a servant).             Bring me my arms, and full accoutrements,             And wait for me beside the garden-house.             I will to camp where they have need of me.

[Exit servant.]

RACHEL. I beg you, see your King! He thinks he loves;             Yet when I speak to you and press your hand,             He worries not. With good economy,             He fills his garish day with business,             And posts his ledger, satisfied, at ev'n.             Out on you! You are all alike—you, too.             O were my sister here! She's wise—than I             Far cleverer! Yet, too, when in her breast             The spark of will and resolution falls,             She flashes out in flames, like unto mine.             Were she a man, she'd be a hero. Ye             Before her courage and her gaze should flinch.             Now let me sleep until she comes, for I             Myself am but the dreaming of a night.

[She lays her head on her arm and her arm on her pillows.]

GARCERAN (steps to the KING who stands watching the reclining

RACHEL).

Most noble Sire—

KING (still gazing). Well?

GARCERAN. May I now go back             Once more unto the army and the camp?

KING (as above).

The army left the camp? Pray tell me why.

GARCERAN. You hear me not—myself, I wish to go.

KING. And there you'll talk, with innuendo, prate—

GARCERAN. Of what?

KING. Of me, of that which here took place.

GARCERAN. For that I'd need to understand it more.

KING. I see! Believest thou in sorcery?

GARCERAN. Since recently I almost do, my lord!

KING. And why is it but recently, I pray?

GARCERAN. Respect, I thought the wonted mate of love;             But love together with contempt, my lord—KING. "Contempt" were far too hard a word; perhaps             An "unregard"—yet, nathless—marvelous!GARCERAN. In sooth, the marvel is a little old,             For it began that day in Paradise             When God from Adam's rib created Eve.KING. And yet he closed the breast when it was done,             And placed the will to guard the entering in.             Thou may'st to camp, but not alone:—with me.RACHEL (sitting up).             The sun is creeping into my retreat.             Who props for me the curtain on yon side?

(Looking off stage at the right.)

             There go two men, both bearing heavy arms;             The lance would serve my purpose very well.

(Calling off stage.)

             Come here! This way! What, are ye deaf?             Come quick!

[The servant, returning with the lance and helmet, accompanied by a second servant bearing the King's shield and cuirass, enters.]

  RACHEL. Give me your lance, good man, and stick the point             Here in the ground, and then the roof will be             Held up in that direction. Thus it throws             A broader shadow. Quickly, now! That's right!             You other fellow, like a snail, you bear             Your house upon your back, unless, perhaps,             A house for some one else. Show me the shield!             A mirror 'tis, in sooth! 'Tis crude, of course,             As all is, here, but in a pinch 'twill do.

(They hold the shield before her.)

             One brings one's hair in order, pushes back             Whatever may have ventured all too far,             And praises God who made one passing fair.             This mirror's curve distorts me! Heaven help!             What puffy cheeks are these? No, no, my friend,             What roundness nature gives us, satisfies.—             And now the helmet—useless in a fight,             For it conceals what oft'nest wins—the eyes;             But quite adapted to the strife of love.             Put me the helm upon my head.—You hurt!—             And if one's love rebels and shows his pride,             Down with the visor!

(Letting it down.)

                              He in darkness stands!             But should he dare, mayhap, to go from us,             And send for arms, to leave us here alone,             Then up the visor goes.

(She does it.)

                              Let there be light!             The sun, victorious, drives away the fog.

KING (going to her).

Thou silly, playing, wisely-foolish child!

RACHEL. Back, back! Give me the shield, give me the lance!             I am attacked, but can defend myself.

KING. Lay down thy arms! No ill approacheth thee!

(Taking both of her hands.)

Enter ESTHER from the left rear.

RACHEL. Ah thou, my little sister! Welcome, here!             Away with all this mummery, but quick!             Don't take my head off, too! How clumsy, ye!

(Running to her.)

             Once more be welcome, O thou sister mine!             How I have long'd to have thee here with me!             And hast thou brought my bracelets and my jewels,             My ointments and my perfumes, with thee now,             As from Toledo's shops I ordered them?ESTHER. I bring them and more weighty things besides—             Unwelcome news, a bitter ornament.             Most mighty Sire and Prince! The Queen has from             Toledo's walls withdrawn, and now remains             In yonder castle where ill-fortune first             Decreed that you and we should meet.

(To GARCERAN.)

                                          With her,             Your noble father, Don Manrique Lara,             Who summons all the kingdom's high grandees             From everywhere, in open letters, to             Discuss the common good, as if the land             Were masterless and you had died, O King.

KING. I think you dream!

ESTHER. I am awake, indeed,             And must keep watch to save my sister's life.             They threaten her. She'll be the sacrifice!RACHEL. O woe is me! Did I not long ago             Adjure you to return unto the court             And bring to naught the plotting of my foes!—             But you remain'd. Behold here are your arms,             The helm, the shield, and there the mighty spear             I'll gather them—but Oh, I cannot do 't.KING (_to _ESTHER).             Now tend the little girl. With every breath             She ten times contradicts what she has said.             I will to court; but there I need no arms;             With open breast, my hand without a sword,             I in my subjects' midst will boldly step             And ask: "Who is there here that dares rebel?"             They soon shall know their King is still alive             And that the sun dies not when evening comes,             But that the morning brings its rays anew.             Thou follow'st, Garceran!

GARCERAN. I'm ready.