Chapter 38

[After 3] stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Between 3 and 4]

_Ordonio._ Believe you then no preternatural influence? { Believe you not that spirits throng around us? { I thought you held that spirits throng'd around us?

Corr. in MS. III.

_Ter._ Say rather that I have imagined it A possible thing; and it has sooth'd my soul As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me To traffic with the black and frenzied hope, That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard.

Remorse.

[4] _you_] you Remorse.

[5] employments] employment Remorse.

[9] things] guilt Remorse.

[10] Stand ye from the altar Remorse.

[After 10] [_Here_, &c. . . . scene Remorse.

[13] spells] spell Remorse.

[21] unstun'd] unstunn'd Remorse.

[After 23] [_Music_ Remorse.

[29] build up] upbuild Remorse.

[37] [_Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words, 'Hear, sweet Spirit.'_ Remorse.

[After 43] SONG.--_Behind the scenes_, &c. Remorse.

[50] chanters] chaunter Remorse.

[58-74] are printed as ll. 1-17, Act III, Sc. I Remorse.

[61] of] in Remorse.

[70-72]

A silver toy his grandam had late given him, Methinks I see him now as he then look'd-- Even so!--He had outgrown his infant dress,

Remorse, Act III, ll. 13-15.

[79] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[87] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[88-9]

But what if he had a brother, Who had lived even so

Remorse.

[91-2]

_Valdez._ Idly prating man! Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother Stands here before thee--a father's blessing on him! He is most virtuous.

Remorse.

[96] excellently] exquisitely Remorse.

[Between 104 and 105]

[_Music again._

_Teresa._ 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures! But whatso'er it mean, I dare no longer Be present at these lawless mysteries, This dark provoking of the hidden Powers! Already I affront--if not high Heaven-- Yet Alvar's memory!--Hark! I make appeal Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens, Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire.

_Alv. (to TERESA)._ O full of faith and guileless love, thy spirit Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent!

[_Exeunt TERESA and Attendant. Music as before._

Remorse.

[106] an eye of flesh] a human eye Remorse.

[108] come quick] O come Remorse.

[109] and if he lives] but if he live Remorse.

[After 110] _The whole music clashes into a Chorus_ Remorse.

[111] demon] demons Remorse.

[113 foll.] For the rest of Act III, as published in Remorse, vide _post_ pp. 851-8. According to the Editor of Osorio as first published in 1873, 'The rest of this Act is entirely different in the published Remorse.' This statement needs qualification. The remainder of Act III of Osorio was rewritten, much was omitted, much added, and the 'dramatic ordonnance' of this part of the play was remodelled on a different plan, but the following lines 174-82, 195-202, 210-31 and 246-7 were included, with certain alterations, in Remorse. See Remorse, Act III, Scene II, ll. 64-71, 79-87, 94-114 and 185-6.

[140-3] _And . . . come_ MS. III erased.

[After 146]

Doth swim with love and pity--Well Ordonio O my foreboding Spirit, he suborn'd thee, And thou didst spare his life

Corr. in MS. III.

[299] interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.

ACT THE FOURTH

SCENE THE FIRST.--_A cavern, dark except where a gleam of moonlight is seen on one side of the further end of it, supposed to be cast on it from a cranny_ [_crevice_ Remorse] _in a part of the cavern out of sight._

[_FERDINAND alone, an extinguished torch in his hand._

_Ferdinand._ Drip! drip! drip! drip!--in such a place as this It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip! I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch. Faith 'twas a moving letter--very moving! His life in danger--no place safe but this. 5 'Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude! And yet--but no! there can't be such a villain. It cannot be! Thanks to that little cranny Which lets the moonlight in! I'll go and sit by it. To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10 Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep, 'Twere better than this dreary noise of water-drops!

[_He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of moonlight,_ [_and returns_. Remorse] _returns after a minute's elapse in an ecstasy of fear._

A hellish pit! O God--'tis like my night-mair! I was just in!--and those damn'd fingers of ice Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15

[_FERDINAND stands_ [_motionless_ _MS. III erased_] _staring at another recess in the cavern. In the mean time OSORIO enters with a torch and hollas to him_ [_halloes to ISIDORE_ Remorse].

_Ferdinand._ I swear, I saw a something moving there! The moonshine came and went, like a flash of lightning. I swear, I saw it move!

[_OSORIO goes into the recess, then returns, and with great scorn._

_Osorio._ A jutting clay-stone Drips on the long lank weed that grows beneath; And the weed nods and drips.

_Ferdinand (forcing a faint laugh)._ A joke to laugh at! 20 It was not that which frighten'd me, my lord!

_Osorio._ What frighten'd you?

_Ferdinand._ You see that little cranny? But first permit me,

[_Lights his torch at OSORIO'S, and while lighting it._

(A lighted torch in the hand Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25 As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)[564:1] You see that cranny there?

_Osorio._ Well, what of that?

_Ferdinand._ I walk'd up to it, meaning to sit there. When I had reach'd it within twenty paces----

[_FERDINAND starts as if he felt the terror over again._

Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30

[_OSORIO goes and returns._

_Osorio._ It must have shot some pleasant feelings thro' you?

_Ferdinand._ If every atom of a dead man's flesh Should move, each one with a particular life, Yet all as cold as ever--'twas just so! Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35 Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald--

_Osorio (interrupting him)._ Why, Ferdinand! I blush for thy cowardice. It would have startled any man, I grant thee. But such a panic.

_Ferdinand._ When a boy, my lord! I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40 Push'd in huge stones and heard them thump and rattle Against its horrid sides; and hung my head Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments Sunk, with faint crash, in that still groaning well, Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45 A living thing came near; unless, perchance, Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould, Close at its edge.

_Osorio._ Art thou more coward now?

_Ferdinand._ Call him that fears his fellow-men a coward. I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50 It were too bad a prison-house for goblins. Besides (you'll laugh, my lord!) but true it is, My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted[565:1] By what had pass'd between us in the morning. I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55 And doz'd and started, doz'd again and started. I do entreat your lordship to believe me, In my last dream----

_Osorio._ Well?

_Ferdinand._ I was in the act Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra Waked me. She heard my heart beat!

_Osorio._ Strange enough! 60 Had you been here before?

_Ferdinand._ Never, my lord! But my eyes do not see it now more clearly Than in my dream I saw that very chasm.

[_OSORIO stands in a deep study--then, after a pause._

_Osorio._ There is no reason why it should be so. And yet it is.

_Ferdinand._ What is, my lord?

_Osorio._ Unpleasant 65 To kill a man!

_Ferdinand._ Except in self-defence.

_Osorio._ Why that's my case: and yet 'tis still unpleasant. At least I find it so! But you, perhaps, Have stronger nerves?

_Ferdinand._ Something doth trouble you. How can I serve you? By the life you gave me, 70 By all that makes that life of value to me, My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you, Name it, and I will toil to do the thing, If it be innocent! But this, my lord! Is not a place where you could perpetrate, 75 No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness (When ten yards off, we know, 'tis chearful moonlight) Collects the guilt and crowds it round the heart. It must be innocent.

_Osorio._ Thyself be judge.

[_OSORIO walks round the cavern--then looking round it._

One of our family knew this place well. 80

_Ferdinand._ Who? when? my lord.

_Osorio._ What boots it who or when? Hang up the torch. I'll tell his tale to thee.

[_They hang [up] their torches in some shelf of_ [_on some ridge in_ Remorse] _the cavern._

_Osorio._ He was a man different from other men, And he despised them, yet revered himself.[567:1]

_Ferdinand._ What? he was mad?

_Osorio._ All men seem'd mad to him, 85 Their actions noisome folly, and their talk-- A goose's gabble was more musical. Nature had made him for some other planet, And press'd his soul into a human shape By accident or malice. In this world 90 He found no fit companion!

_Ferdinand._ Ah, poor wretch! Madmen are mostly proud.

_Osorio._ He walk'd alone, And phantasies, unsought for, troubled him. Something within would still be shadowing out All possibilities, and with these shadows 95 His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happen'd, A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest: To this in moody murmur, and low voice, He yielded utterance as some talk in sleep. The man who heard him---- Why didst thou look round? 100

_Ferdinand._ I have a prattler three years old, my lord! In truth he is my darling. As I went From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep-- But I am talking idly--pray go on! And what did this man?

_Osorio._ With his human hand 105 He gave a being and reality To that wild fancy of a possible thing. Well it was done. [_Then very wildly._ Why babblest thou of guilt? The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off. And he, whose tale I tell thee--dost thou listen? 110

_Ferdinand._ I would, my lord, you were by _my_ fireside! I'd listen to you with an eager eye, Tho' you began this cloudy tale at midnight. But I do listen--pray proceed, my lord!

_Osorio._ Where was I?

_Ferdinand._ He of whom you tell the tale-- 115

_Osorio._ Surveying all things with a quiet scorn Tamed himself down to living purposes, The occupations and the semblances Of ordinary men--and such he seem'd. But that some over-ready agent--he---- 120

_Ferdinand._ Ah! what of him, my lord?

_Osorio._ He proved a villain; Betray'd the mystery to a brother villain; And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot To hunt him down to infamy and death To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125 And stain the honour of an orphan lady With barbarous mixture and unnatural union. What did the Velez? I am proud of the name, Since he dared do it.

[_OSORIO grasps his sword and turns off from FERDINAND, then, after a pause, returns._

_Osorio._ Our links burn dimly.

_Ferdinand._ A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130 Tell what he did.

_Osorio (fiercely)._ That which his wisdom prompted. He made the traitor meet him in this cavern, And here he kill'd the traitor.

_Ferdinand._ No!--the fool. He had not wit enough to be a traitor. Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135 That he, who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie To murder _his own brother_, would not scruple To murder _thee_, if e'er his guilt grew jealous And he could steal upon thee in the dark!

_Osorio._ Thou would'st not then have come, if----

_Ferdinand._ O yes, my lord! 140 I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward!

[_FERDINAND throws off his robe, shows himself armed, and draws his sword._

_Osorio._ Now this is excellent, and warms the blood! My heart was drawing back, drawing me back With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave, Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145 Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.

_Ferdinand._ And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.

[_They fight. OSORIO disarms FERDINAND, and in disarming him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to which they were standing._

_Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio)._ Still I can strangle thee!

_Osorio._ Nay, fool! stand off. I'll kill thee--but not so! Go fetch thy sword.

[_FERDINAND hurries into the recess with his torch. OSORIO follows him, and in a moment returns alone._

_Osorio._ Now--this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150 His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1]

[_Exit._

_SCENE changes to the court before the Castle of VELEZ._

_MARIA and her FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Maria._ And when I heard that you desired to see me, I thought your business was to tell me of him.

_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.

_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155 As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.

_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady, As often as I think of those dear times When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160 On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you, 'Tis more like heaven to come, that what _has_ been!

_Maria._ O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165 Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon Breeds in the love-sick maid--who gazes at it Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!

_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170

_Maria._ No one.

_Foster-Mother._ My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175 Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180 And so the babe grew up a pretty boy. A pretty boy, but most unteachable-- And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185 And all the autumn 'twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them With earth and water on the stumps of trees. A friar who gather'd simples in the wood, A grey-hair'd man--he loved this little boy, 190 The boy loved him--and, when the friar taught him, He soon could write with the pen; and from that time Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle. So he became a very learned youth. But O! poor wretch--he read, and read, and read, 195 Till his brain turn'd--and ere his twentieth year, He had unlawful thoughts of many things. And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray With holy men, nor in a holy place. But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200 The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him, And once as by the north side of the chapel They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse, The earth heav'd under them with such a groan, That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205 Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd; A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession Of all the heretical and lawless talk Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210 Sobb'd like a child--it almost broke his heart. And once as he was working in the cellar, He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's, Who sung a doleful song about green fields, How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215 To hunt for food, and be a naked man, And wander up and down at liberty. He always doted on the youth, and now His love grew desperate; and defying death, He made that cunning entrance I described: 220 And the young man escaped.

_Maria._ 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep, His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears. And what became of him?

_Foster-Mother._ He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225 Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain, He told Leoni that the poor mad youth, Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230 And all alone set sail by silent moonlight, Up a great river, great as any sea, And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed He liv'd and died among the savage men.

_Enter VELEZ._

_Velez._ Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235

_Maria._ O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head, If ye betray him to these holy brethren!

_Velez (with a kind of sneer)._ A portly man, and eloquent, and tender! In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn That their rude grasp should seize on _such_ a victim. 240

_Maria._ The horror of their ghastly punishments Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy, That I should feel too little for mine enemy-- Ah! far too little--if 'twere possible, I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245 Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are----

_Velez._ Hush! thoughtless woman!

_Maria._ Nay--it wakes within me More than a woman's spirit.

_Velez (angrily)._ No more of this-- I can endure no more.

_Foster-Mother._ My honour'd master! Lord Albert used to talk so.

_Maria._ Yes! my mother! 250 These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them With more delight than, in my fondest hour, I bend me o'er his portrait.

_Velez (to the Foster-Mother)._ My good woman, You may retire. [_Exit the FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Velez._ We have mourn'd for Albert. Have I no living son?

_Maria._ Speak not of him! 255 That low imposture--my heart sickens at it, If it be madness, must I wed a madman? And if not madness, there is mystery, And guilt doth lurk behind it!

_Valdez._ Is this well?

_Maria._ Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260 How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear, Displac'd each other with swift interchanges? If this were all assumed, as you believe, He must needs be a most consummate actor; And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265 I never could be safe. And why assume The semblance of such execrable feelings?

_Velez._ Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle An old man's passion! Was it not enough That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270 Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason, But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion, And toil to blast his honour? I am old-- A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay Beneath my roof!

[_FRANCESCO enters and stands listening._

_Velez._ Repent and marry him-- 275 Or to the convent.

_Francesco (muttering)._ Good! good! very good!

_Maria._ Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune, And I will live a solitary woman, Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons May be my household.

_Francesco (advancing)._ I abhor a listener; 280 But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you. I pray, my lord! will you embolden me To ask you why this lady doth prefer To live in lonely sort, without a friend Or fit companion?

_Velez._ Bid her answer you. 285

_Maria._ Nature will be my friend and fit companion.

[_Turns off from them._

O Albert! Albert! that they could return, Those blessed days, that imitated heaven! When we two wont to walk at evening-tide; When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard 290 The voice of that Almighty One, who lov'd us, In every gale that breath'd, and wave that murmur'd! O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure Hath half-assumed the countenance of grief, And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295 Of bliss, that press'd too heavy on the heart.

_Francesco._ But in the convent, lady, you would have Such aids as might preserve you from perdition. There you might dwell.

_Maria._ With tame and credulous faith, Mad melancholy, antic merriment, 300 Leanness, disquietude, and secret pangs! O God! it is a horrid thing to know That each pale wretch, who sits and drops her beads Had once a mind, which might have given her wings Such as the angels wear!

_Francesco (stifling his rage)._ Where is your son, my lord? 305

_Velez._ I have not seen him, father, since he left you.

_Francesco._ His lordship's generous nature hath deceiv'd him! _That_ Ferdinand (or if not he his wife) I have fresh evidence--are infidels. We are not safe until they are rooted out. 310

_Maria._ Thou man, who call'st thyself the minister Of Him whose law was love unutterable! Why is thy soul so parch'd with cruelty, That still thou thirstest for thy brother's blood?

_Velez (rapidly)._ Father! I have long suspected it--her brain-- 315 Heed it not, father!

_Francesco._ Nay--but I _must_ heed it.

_Maria._ Thou miserable man! I fear thee not, Nor prize a life which soon may weary me. Bear witness, Heav'n! I neither scorn nor hate him-- 320 But O! 'tis wearisome to mourn for evils, Still mourn, and have no power to remedy! [_Exit MARIA._

_Francesco._ My lord! I shall presume to wait on you To-morrow early.

_Velez._ Be it so, good father! [_Exit FRANCESCO._

_Velez (alone)._ I do want solace, but not such as thine! 325 The moon is high in heaven, and my eyes ache, But not with sleep. Well--it is ever so. A child, a child is born! and the fond heart Dances! and yet the childless are most happy.

[_SCENE changes to the mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress, her eyes fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of_ Morescoes, _all in their Moorish garments. They form a circle at a distance round ALHADRA. After a pause one of the_ Morescoes _to the man who stands next to him._

_First Moresco._ The law which forced these Christian dresses on us, 330 'Twere pleasant to cleave down the wretch who framed it.

_Second._ Yet 'tis not well to trample on it idly.

_First._ Our country robes are dear.

_Second._ And like dear friends, May chance to prove most perilous informers.

[_A third Moresco, NAOMI, advances from out the circle._

_Naomi._ Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335 We have obey'd thy call. Where is our chief? And why didst thou enjoin the Moorish garments?

_Alhadra (lifting up_ [_raising_ Remorse] _her eyes, and looking round on the circle)._ Warriors of Mahomet, faithful in the battle, My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340 In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes! They are _spell_-blasted; and whoever wears them, His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away, And his bones soften!

_Naomi._ Where is Ferdinand?

_Alhadra (in a deep low voice)._ This night I went from forth my house, and left 345 His children all asleep; and he was living! And I return'd, and found them still asleep-- But he had perish'd.

_All._ Perished?

_Alhadra._ He had perish'd! Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350 Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm Revenge his murder?

_One to Another._ Did she say his murder?

_Naomi._ Murder'd? Not murder'd?

_Alhadra._ Murder'd by a Christian!

[_They all, at once, draw their sabres._

_Alhadra (to Naomi, who on being addressed again advances from the circle)._ Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword: This is thy chieftain's! [_He steps forward to take it._ Dost thou dare receive it? 355 For I have sworn by Alia and the prophet, No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword Wet with the blood of all the house of Velez!

_Enter MAURICE._

_All._ A spy! a spy! [_They seize him._

_Maurice._ Off! off! unhand me, slaves! 360

[_After much struggling he disengages himself and draws his sword._

_Naomi (to Alhadra)._ Speak! shall we kill him?

_Maurice._ Yes! ye can kill a man, Some twenty of you! But ye are Spanish slaves! And slaves are always cruel, always cowards.

_Alhadra._ That man has spoken truth. Whence and who art thou?

_Maurice._ I seek a dear friend, whom for aught I know 365 The son of Velez hath hired one of you To murder! Say, do ye know aught of Albert?

_Alhadra (starting)._ Albert?--three years ago I heard that name Murmur'd in sleep! High-minded foreigner! Mix thy revenge with mine, and stand among us. 370

[_MAURICE stands among the_ Morescoes.

_Alhadra._ Was not Osorio my husband's friend?

_Old Man._ He kill'd my son in battle; yet our chieftain Forced me to sheathe my dagger. See--the point Is bright, unrusted with the villain's blood!

_Alhadra._ He is your chieftain's murderer!

_Naomi._ He dies by Alla!

_All (dropping on one knee)._ By Alla! 375

_Alhadra._ This night a reeking slave came with loud pant, Gave Ferdinand a letter, and departed, Swift as he came. Pale, with unquiet looks, He read the scroll.

_Maurice._ Its purport?

_Alhadra._ Yes, I ask'd it. He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380 A nobler secret; but I have been faithful To this bad man, and faithful I will be.' He said, and arm'd himself, and lit a torch; Then kiss'd his children, each one on its pillow, And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385 At distance, till I saw him enter _there_.

_Naomi._ The cavern?

_Alhadra._ Yes--the mouth of yonder cavern. After a pause I saw the son of Velez Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise enter'd-- There was another and a longer pause-- 390 And once, methought, I heard the clash of swords, And soon the son of Velez reappear'd. He flung his torch towards the moon in sport, And seem'd as he were mirthful! I stood listening Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395

_Maurice._ Thou called'st him?

_Alhadra._ I crept into the cavern: 'Twas dark and very silent. [_Then wildly._ What said'st thou? No, no! I did not dare call, Ferdinand! Lest I should hear no answer. A brief while, Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400 Of that for which I came! After that pause, O God! I heard a groan!--and follow'd it. And yet another groan--which guided me Into a strange recess--and there was _light_, A _hideous_ light! his torch lay on the ground-- 405 Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink. I spake--and while I spake, a feeble groan Came from that chasm! It was his last! his death groan!

_Maurice._ Comfort her, comfort her, Almighty Father!

_Alhadra._ I stood in unimaginable trance 410 And agony, that cannot be remember'd, Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan! But I had heard his last--my husband's death-groan!

_Naomi._ Haste! let us go!

_Alhadra._ I look'd far down the pit. My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment, 415 And it was stain'd with blood! Then first I shriek'd! My eyeballs burnt! my brain grew hot as fire! And all the hanging drops of the wet roof Turn'd into blood. I saw them turn to blood! And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420 When on the further brink I saw his sword, And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue! The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here, And he hath not had vengeance! Ferdinand! Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425 Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following._

END OF THE FOURTH ACT

FOOTNOTES:

[564:1] The square brackets (which appear in both MSS.) seem to indicate that these words were an 'aside'. _P. W._ 1893, p. 499. _Editor's Note_.

[565:1] Against this passage Coleridge has written in MS. II:--'This will be held by many for a mere Tragedy-dream--by many who have never given themselves the trouble to ask themselves from what grounds dreams pleased in Tragedy, and wherefore they have become so common. I believe, however, that in the present case, the whole is here psychologically true and accurate. Prophetical dreams are things of nature, and explicable by that law of the mind in which where dim ideas are connected with vivid feelings, Perception and Imagination insinuate themselves and mix with the forms of Recollection, till the Present appears to exactly correspond with the Past. Whatever is partially like, the Imagination will gradually represent as wholly like--a law of our nature which, when it is perfectly understood, woe to the great city Babylon--to all the superstitions of Men!' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.

[567:1] Against this passage Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Under the mask of the third person Osorio relates his own story, as in the delusion of self-justification and pride, it appeared to himself--at least as he wished it to appear to himself.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.

'Osorio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he conceives of his own character and actions--speaking of himself in the third person.' _MS. III_.

[570:1] Against this line Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Osorio has thrust Ferdinand down the chasm. I think it an important instance how Dreams and Prophecies coöperate to their own completion.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 501.

LINENOTES:

[1-3] Erased MS. III.: om. Remorse.

{ [*water drops*] This ceaseless dreary sound of { dropping water-- I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!

Corr. in MS. III.

[5-6] In inverted commas. Remorse.

[8] cannot] can not Remorse. cranny] crevice Remorse.

[12] MS. III erased.

[Between 11 and 13]

(_a_) Any thing but this crash of water drops! These dull abortive sounds that fret the silence With puny thwartings and mock opposition! So beats the death-watch to a sick man's ear

Remorse.

(_b_) Anything but this { crash of water-drops { [*noise*] { scoffing At broken measure { [*mocking*] intervals-- Their discontinuous, interruptive sound { These { [*With*] dull abortive &c.

MS. III erased.

Affixed to variant (a) of l. 12 '--this at all events is the final result of this correction.' _S. T. C._

[13] A hellish pit! O God--'tis that I dreamt of! Corr. in MS. III: A hellish pit! The very same I dreamt of! Remorse.

[Affixed to 13] 'You mean like the dream presented to my mind when under the influence of the night-mare. This is most ludicrously expressed.' C. Ll[oyd]

[16] I swear that I saw something Remorse.

[18] In the stage-direction the last four words are omitted Remorse.

[19] Drips] Drops Remorse.

[Between 19 and 31.]

_Isidore._ A jest to laugh at! It was not that which scar'd me, good my lord.

_Ordonio._ What scar'd you, then?

_Isidore._ You see that little rift? But first permit me! [_Lights his torch at ORDONIO'S, and while lighting it._ (A lighted torch in the hand Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.) You see that crevice there? My torch extinguished by these water drops, And marking that the moonlight came from thence, I stept in to it, meaning to sit there; But scarcely had I measured twenty paces-- My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink Of a hugh chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine Filling the void so counterfeited substance, That my foot hung aslant adown the edge. Was it my own fear? Fear too hath its instincts! (And yet such dens as these are wildly told of, And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye) An arm of frost above and from behind me Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven! You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here! My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.

Remorse.

[33] move] creep Remorse.

[35] if] had Remorse.

[37-9]

_Ordonio._ Why, Isidore, I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled, I grant you, even a brave man for a moment--

Remorse.

[41] thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[42] and] then Remorse.

[44] Sunk with a faint splash in that groaning Corr. in MS. III. Sunk] Sank Remorse.

[49] fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.

[52] laugh] smile Remorse.

[Between 54 and 57:]

O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance-- Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing, But only being afraid--stifled with fear! While every goodly or familiar form Had a strange power of breathing terror round me! I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes; And I entreat your lordship to believe me,

Remorse.

[56] om. Remorse.

[62] my] mine Remorse.

[64] _Ord. (after a pause)._ I know not why it should be! yet it is-- Remorse.

[65] Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.

[67-70]

_Ord._ Why that's my case! and yet the soul recoils from it-- 'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps, Have sterner feelings?

_Isid._ Something troubles you. How shall I serve you?

Remorse.

[77] yards] strides Remorse.

[80] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[82] the] thy Remorse.

[Between 84 and 88]

_Isid. (aside)._ He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself! I am on my guard however: no surprise [_Then to ORDONIO._

Remorse.

[86-7] om. Remorse.

[91-2]

_Isidore._ Of himself he speaks. [_Aside._ Alas! poor wretch! Mad men, &c.

Remorse.

[93] phantasies] phantom thoughts Remorse.

[104] go on] proceed Remorse.

[105] his] this Remorse.

[106] being] substance Remorse.

[108] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[120] some] same Remorse.

[121-2]

He proved a traitor, Betrayed the mystery to a brother traitor

Remorse.

[125-7] om. Remorse.

[131] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Between 143 and 145.]

With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien, And claims that life, my pity robb'd her of-- Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it

Remorse.

[Affixed to 147.] _Ferdinand on hearing the threat of Osorio feels a momentary horror at the consequences of his being killed, and in tones of mingled fear and sorrow_--

And all my little ones fatherless!

_then bursting into indignation_ 'Die thou first',

MS. III.

[After 147]

[_They fight. ORDONIO disarms ISIDORE, and in disarming him throws his sword up that recess opposite to which they were standing. ISIDORE hurries into the recess with his torch, ORDONIO follows him; a loud cry of 'Traitor! Monster!' is heard from the cavern, and in a moment ORDONIO returns alone._

_Ordonio._ I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason. He dreamt of it, henceforward let him sleep, A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him. His dream too is made out--Now for his friend. [_Exit. ORDONIO._

Remorse.

[148-51] om. Remorse.

[150] Now] So MS. III.

[Affixed to 150.] 'Ferdinand's death is not sufficiently explained to the Audience. There should be a struggling behind the scene, as if Osorio had taken him unawares, and was hurrying him down the Precipice. An exclamation or even groans would add still more to the interest of the scene.' MS. III erased.

[152-234] om. Remorse. vide _ante_ The Foster-Mother's Tale: a Dramatic Fragment, pp. 182-4.

[Between 152 and 246:]