ACT THE FIRST.
THE SEA-SHORE, WITH PRECIPITOUS CLIFFS.
SCENE I.
The King EGERIUS, clad in skins, LEOGAIRE, POLONIA, LESBIA, and a
Captain.
KING [furious]. Here let me die. Away!
LEOGAIRE. Oh, stop, my lord!
CAPTAIN. Consider . . .
LESBIA. Listen . . .
POLONIA. Stay . . .
KING. Yes, from this rocky height,
Nigh to the sun, that with one starry light
Its rugged brow doth crown,
Headlong among the salt waves leaping down
Let him descend who so much pain perceives;
There let him raging die who raging lives.
LESBIA. Why wildly seekest thou the sea?
POLONIA. Thou wert asleep, my lord; what could it be?
KING. Every torment that doth dwell
For ever with the thirsty fiends of hell --
Dark brood of that dread mother,
The seven-necked snake, whose poisoned breath doth smother
The fourth celestial sphere;
In fine, its horror and its misery drear
Within me reach so far,
That I myself upon myself make war,
When in the arms of sleep
A living corse am I, for it doth keep
Such mastery o'er my life, that, as I dream,
A pale foreshadowing threat of coming death I seem.
POLONIA. How could a dream, my lord, provoke you so?
KING. Alas! my daughters, listen, you shall know.
From out the lips of a most lovely youth
(And though a miserable slave, in sooth
I dare not hurt him, and I speak his praise),
Well, from the mouth of a poor slave, a blaze
Of lambent lustre came,
Which mildly burned in rays of gentlest flame;
Till reaching you,
The living fire at once consumed ye two.
I stood betwixt ye both, and though I sought
To stay its fury, the strange fire would not
Molest or wound me, passing like the wind,
So that despairing, blind,
I woke from out a deep abysm
Of dream, a lethargy, a paroxysm;
But find my pains the same,
For still it seems to me I see that flame,
And flying, at every turn
See you consumed; but now I also burn.*
[footnote] *The Dream of Egerius, as given by Calderon, agrees substantially with Jocelin's description, and differs only in one slight particular (the number of the flames) from that in Montalvan's "Vida y Purgatorio de San Patricio". In the latter, the name of the Irish prince to whom Patrick was sold is not given; in Jocelin he is called "Milcho." Calderon was either ignorant of this, and gave the king a name that was purely imaginary, or, considering it less musical than he would wish, gave him the more harmonious one of Egerio. The following is Jocelin's version: "And Milcho beheld a vision in the night: and behold Patrick entered his palace as all on fire, and the flames, issuing from his mouth, and from his nose, and from his eyes, and from his ears, seemed to burn him; but Milcho repelled from himself the flaming hair of the boy, nor did it prevail to touch him any nearer; but the flame, being spread, turned aside to the right and catching on his two little daughters, who were lying in one bed, burned them even to ashes: then the south wind blowing strongly dispersed their ashes over many parts of Ireland." -- "Jocelin's Life of St. Patrick, translated by Swift" (Dublin, 1804), pp. 17, 18.
LESBIA. Light phantoms these,
Chimeras which an entrance find with ease
Into the dreamer's brain.
[A trumpet sounds.
But wherefore sounds this trumpet?
CAPTAIN. It is plain
Ships are approaching to our port below.
POLONIA. Grant me thy leave, great lord, since thou dost know
A trumpet in my ear
Sounds like a siren's voice, serene and clear;
Ever to war inclined,
In martial music my chief joy I find;
Its clangour and its din
Lead my rapt senses on: for I may win
Through it my highest fame,
When soaring to the sun on waves of flame,
Or wings as swift, my proud name shall ascend,
There it may be with Pallas to contend.
[Aside.
A stronger motive urges me to go:
If it is Philip's ship I wish to know.
[Exit.
LEOGAIRE. Descend, my lord, with me
Down where the foam-curled head of the blue sea
Bows at the base of this majestic hill,
Whose sands, like chains of gold, restrain its wilder will.
CAPTAIN. Let it divert thy care,
This snow-white monster fair,
Whose waves of dazzling hue
Shape silver frames round mirrors sapphire blue.
KING. Nothing can give relief;
Nothing can now divert me from my grief;
That mystic fire will give my life no rest,--
My heart an Etna seems within my breast.
LESBIA. Is any sight more fair? can aught surpass
That of a vessel breaking through the glass
Of crystal seas, and seeming there to be,
As with light share it cuts the azure mass,
A fish of the wind, a swift bird of the sea,
And being for two elements designed,
Flies in the wave and swims upon the wind?
But now no witchery
Were it to any eyes that sight to see;
For lo! the roused-up ocean,
Heaving with all its mountain waves in motion,
Wrinkles its haughty brow,
And suddenly awaking,
Neptune, his trident shaking,
Ruffles the beauteous face so sweet and calm but now.
Well may the sailor in his floating home
Expect a storm, for, lo! in heaven's high vault
Rise pyramids of ice, mountains of salt,
Turrets of snow, and palaces of foam.
POLONIA returns.
POLONIA. O dire misfortune!
KING. What so suddenly
Has chanced, Polonia?
POLONIA. This inconstant sea,
This Babel of wild waves that seeks heaven's gate,
So great its fury, and its rage so great,
Driven by a drought accursed,
(Who would have thought that waves themselves could thirst?)
Has swallowed in the depths of its dread womb,
But now, a numerous company, to whom
It consecrates below
Red sepulchres of coral, tombs of snow,
In silver-shining caves;
For from their prison out o'er all the waves
Has Aeolus the winds let loose, and they,
Without a law to guide them on their way,
Fell on that bark from which the trumpet rang,
A swan whose own sad obsequies it sang.
I from that cliff's stupendous height,
Which dares to intercept the great sun's light,
Looked full of hope along that vessel's track,
To see if it was Philip who came back;
Philip whose flag had borne upon the breeze
Thy royal arms triumphant through the seas;
When his sad wreck swept by,
And every sound was buried in a sigh,
His ruin seemed not wrought by seas or skies,
But by my lips and eyes,
Because my cries, the tears that made me blind,
Increased still more the water and the wind.
KING. How! ye immortal deities,
Would you still try by threatenings such as these
What I can bear?
Is it your wish that I should mount and tear
This azure palace down, as if the shape
Of a new Nimrod* I assumed, to show
How on my shoulders might the world escape,
Nor as I gazed below
Feel any fear, though all the abysses under
Were rent with fire and flame, with lightning and with thunder.
[footnote] *Nimrod is here used for Atlas. "Nimrod aber ist hier, was den Profandichtern und auch dem Calderon oft Atlas ist." -– Schmidt, 'Die Schauspiele Calderon's' etc.,' p. 426.
* * * * *
SCENE II.
PATRICK, and then LUIS ENIUS.
PATRICK [within]. Ah me!
LEOGAIRE. Some mournful voice.
KING. What's this?
CAPTAIN. The form,
As of a man who has escaped the storm,
Swims yonder to the land.
LESBIA. And strives to give a life-sustaining hand
Unto another wretch, when he
Appeared about to sink in death's last agony.
POLONIA. Poor traveller from afar,
Whom evil fate and thy malignant star
On this far shore have cast,
Let my voice guide thee, if amid the blast
My accents thou canst hear; since it is only
To rouse thy courage that I speak to thee.
Come!
[Enter PATRICK and LUIS ENIUS, clasping each other.
PATRICK. Oh, God save me!
LUIS. Oh, the devil save ME!
LESBIA. They move my pity, these unhappy two.
KING. Not mine, for what it is I never knew.
PATRICK. Oh, sirs, if wretchedness
Can move most hearts to pity man's distress,
I will not think that here
A heart can be so cruel and severe
As to repel a wretch from out the wave.
Pity, for God's sake, at your feet I crave.
LUIS. I don't, for I disdain it.
From God or man I never hope to gain it.
KING. Say who you are; we then shall know
What hospitable care your needs we owe.
But first I will inform you of my name,
Lest ignorance of that perchance might claim
Exemption from respect, and words be said
Unworthy of the deference and the dread
That here my subjects show me,
Or wanting the due homage that you owe me.
I am the King Egerius,
The worthy lord of this small realm, for thus
I call it being mine;
Till 'tis the world, my sword shall not resign
Its valorous hope. The dress,
Not of a king, but of wild savageness
I wear: to testify,
Thus seeming a wild beast, how wild am I.
No god my worship claims;
I do not even know the deities' names:
Here they no service nor respect receive;
To die and to be born is all that we believe.
Now that you know how much you should revere
My royal state, say who you are.
PATRICK. Then hear:
Patrick is my name, my country
Ireland, and an humble hamlet,*
Scarcely known to men, called Empthor,**
Is my place of birth: It standeth
Midway 'twixt the north and west,
On a mountain which is guarded
As a prison by the sea,--
In the island which hereafter
Will be called the Isle of Saints,
To its glory everlasting;
Such a crowd, great lord, therein
Will give up their lives as martyrs
In religious attestation
Of the faith, faith's highest marvel.
Of an Irish cavalier,
And of his chaste spouse and partner,
A French lady, I was born,
Unto whom I owe (oh, happy
That 'twas so!), beyond my birthright
Of nobility, the vantage
Of the Christian faith, the light
Of Christ's true religion granted
In the sacred rite of baptism,
Which a mark indelibly stampeth
On the soul, heaven's gate, as it
Is the sacrament first granted
By the Church. My pious parents,
Having thus the debt exacted
From all married people paid
By my birth, retired thereafter
To two separate convents, where
In the purity and calmness
Of their chaste abodes they lived,
Till the fatal line of darkness,
Ending life, was reached, and they,
Fortified by every practice
Of the Catholic faith, in peace
Yielded up their souls in gladness,
Unto heaven their spirits giving,
Giving unto earth their ashes.
I, an orphan, then remained
Carefully and kindly guarded
By a very holy matron,
Underneath whose rule I hardly
Had completed one brief lustrum --
Five short years had scarce departed --
Five bright circles of the sun
Wheeling round on golden axles,
Twelve high zodiac signs illuming
And one earthly sphere, when happened
Through me an event that showed
God's omnipotence and marvels;
Since of weakest instruments
God makes use of, to enhance his
Majesty the more, to show
That for what men think the grandest
And most strange effects, to Him
Should alone the praise be granted.--
It so happened, and Heaven knoweth
That it is not pride, but rather
Pure religious zeal, that men
Should know how the Lord hath acted,
Makes me tell it, that one day
To my doors a blind man rambled,
Gormas was his name, who said,
"God who sends me here commands thee
In His name to give me sight;"
I, obedient to the mandate,
Made at once the sign of the cross
On his sightless eyes, that started
Into life and light once more
From their state of utter darkness.
At another time when heaven,
Muffled in the thickest, blackest
Clouds, made war upon the world,
Hurling at it lightning lances
Of white snow, which fell so thickly
On a mountain, that soon after
They being melted by the sun,
So filled up our streets and alleys,
So inundated our houses,
That amid the wild waves stranded
They were ships of bricks and stones,
Barks of cement and of plaster.
Who before saw waves on mountains?
Who 'mid woods saw ships at anchor?
I the sign of the cross then made
On the waters, and in accents,
In a tone of grave emotion,
In God's name the waves commanded
To retire: they turned that moment
And left dry the lands they ravaged.
Oh, great God! who will not praise Thee?
Who will not confess Thee Master?--
Other wonders I could tell you,
But my modesty throws shackles
On my tongue, makes mute my voice,
And my lips seals up and fastens.
I grew up, in fine, inclined
Less to arms than to the marvels
Knowledge can reveal: I gave me
Almost wholly up to master
Sacred Science, to the reading
Of the Lives of Saints, a practice
Which doth teach us faith, hope, zeal,
Charity and Christian manners.
In these studies thus immersed,
I one day approached the margin
Of the sea with some young friends,
Fellow-students and companions,
When a bark drew nigh, from which
Suddenly out-leaping landed
Armed men, fierce pirates they,
Who these seas, these islands, ravaged;
We at once were captives made,
And in order not to hazard
Losing us their prey, they sailed
Out to sea with swelling canvas.
Of this daring pirate boat
Philip de Roqui was the captain,
In whose breast, for his destruction,
Pride, the poisonous weed, was planted.
He the Irish seas and coast
Having thus for some days ravaged,
Taking property and life,
Pillaging our homes and hamlets;
But myself alone reserved
To be offered as a vassal,
As a slave to thee, O king!
In thy presence as he fancied.
Oh! how ignorant is man,
When of God's wise laws regardless,
When, without consulting Him,
He his future projects planneth!
Philip well, at sea might say so;
Since to-day, in sight of land here,
Heaven the while being all serene,
Mild the air, the water tranquil,
In an instant, in a moment,
He beheld his proud hopes blasted.
In the hollow-breasted waves
Roared the wind, the sea grew maddened,
Billows upon billows rolled
Mountain high, and wildly dashed them
Wet against the sun, as if
They its light would quench and darken.
The poop-lantern of our ship
Seemed a comet most erratic --
Seemed a moving exhalation,
Or a star from space outstarted;
At another time it touched
The profoundest deep sea-caverns,
Or the treacherous sands whereon
Ran the stately ship and parted.
Then the fatal waves became
Monuments of alabaster,
Tombs of coral and of pearl.
I (and why this boon was granted
Unto me by Heaven I know not,
Being so useless), with expanded
Arms, struck out, but not alone
My own life to save, nay rather
In the attempt to save this brave
Young man here, that life to barter;
For I know not by what secret
Instinct towards him I'm attracted;
And I think he yet will pay me
Back this debt with interest added.
Finally, through Heaven's great pity
We at length have happily landed,
Where my misery may expect it,
Or my better fate may grant it;
Since we are your slaves and servants,
That being moved by our disasters,
That being softened by our weeping,
Our sore plight may melt your hardness,
Our affliction force your kindness,
And our very pains command you.***
[footnote] * The asonante in a -- e, or their vocal equivalents, commences here, and is continued to the commencement of the speech of Enius, when it changes to the asonante in e -- e, which is kept up through the remainder of the Scene, and to the end of Scene III.
[footnote] ** "Empthor" -- see note on this name.
[footnote] *** See note for some extracts from Montalvan's "Vida y Purgaterio de San Patricio".
KING. Silence, miserable Christian,
For my very soul seems fastened
On thy words, compelling me,
How I know not, to regard thee
With strange reverence and fear,
Thinking thou must be that vassal --
That poor slave whom in my dream
I beheld outbreathing flashes,
Saw outflashing living fire,
In whose flame, so lithe and lambent,
My Polonia and my Lesbia
Like poor moths were burned to ashes.
PATRICK. Know, the flame that from my mouth
Issued, is the true Evangel,
Is the doctrine of the Gospel:--
'Tis the word which I'm commanded
Unto thee to preach, O King!
To thy subjects and thy vassals,
To thy daughters, who shall be
Christians through its means.
KING. Cease, fasten
Thy presumptuous lips, vile Christian,
For thy words insult and stab me.
LESBIA. Stay!
POLONIA. And wilt thou in thy pity
Try to save him from his anger?
LESBIA. Yes.
POLONIA. Forbear, and let him die.
LESBIA. Thus to die by a king's hands here
Were unjust. [Aside.] (It is my pity
For these Christians prompts my answer.)
POLONIA. If this second Joseph then,
Like the first one, would unravel,
Would interpret the king's dreams,
Do not dread the result, my father;
For if my being seen to burn
Indicates in any manner
I should ever be a Christian,
As impossible a marvel
Such would be, as if, being dead,
I could rise and live thereafter.
But in order that your mind
May be turned from such just anger,
Let us hear now who this other
Stranger is.
LUIS. Then be attentive,
Beautiful divinity,
For my history thus commences:--
Great Egerius, King of Ireland,
I by name am Luis Enius,
And a Christian also, this
Being the sole point of resemblance
Betwixt Patrick and myself,
Yet a difference presenting:
For although we two are Christians,
So distinct and so dissevered
Are we, that not good from evil
Is more opposite in its essence.
Yet for all that, in defence
Of the faith I believe and reverence,
I would lose a thousand lives
(Such the esteem for it I cherish).
Yes, by God! The oath alone
Shows how firmly I confess Him.
I no pious tales or wonders,
Worked in my behalf by Heaven,
Have to speak of: no; dark crimes,
Robberies, murders, sacrileges,
Treasons, treacheries, betrayals,
Must I tell instead, however
Vain it be in me to glory
In my having such effected.
I in one of Ireland's many
Isles was born; the planets seven,
I suspect, in wild abnormal
Interchange of influences,
Must have at my hapless birth-time
All their various gifts presented.
Fickleness the Moon implanted
In my nature; subtle Hermes
With and genius ill-employed;
(Better ne'er to have possessed them);
Wanton Venus gave me passions --
All the flatteries of the senses,
And stern Mars a cruel mind
(Mars and Venus both together
What will they not give?); the Sun
Gave to me an easy temper,
Prone to spend, and when means failed me
Theft and robbery were my helpers;
Jupiter presumptuous pride,
Thoughts fantastic and unfettered,
Gave me; Saturn, rage and anger,
Valour and a will determined
On its ends; and from such causes
Followed the due consequences.
Here from Ireland being banished,
By a cause I do not mention
Through respect to him, my father
Came to Perpignan, and settled
In that Spanish town, when I
Scarce my first ten years had ended,
And when sixteen came, he died.
May God rest his soul in heaven!--
Orphaned, I remained the prey
Of my passions and my pleasures,
O'er whose tempting plain I ran
Without rein or curb to check me.
The two poles of my existence,
On which all the rest depended
For support, were play and women.
What a base on which to rest me!
Here my tongue would not be able
To acquaint you 'in extenso'
With my actions: a brief abstract
May, however, be attempted.
I, to outrage a young maiden,
Stabbed to death a noble elder,
Her own father: for the sake
Of his wife, a most respected
Cavalier I slew, as he
Lay beside her in the helpless
State of sleep, his honour bathing
In his blood, the bed presenting
A sad theatre of crimes,
Murder and adultery blended.
Thus the father and the husband
Life for honour's sake surrendered;
For even honour has its martyrs.
May God rest their souls in heaven!--
Dreading punishment for this,
I fled hastily, and entered
France, where my exploits, methinks,
Time will cease not to remember;
For, assisting in the wars
Which at that time were contended
Bravely betwixt France and England,
I took military service
Under Stephen, the French king,
And a fight which chance presented
Showed my courage to be such,
That the king himself, as guerdon
Of my valour, gave to me
The commission of an ensign.
How that debt I soon repaid,
I prefer not now to tell thee.
Back to Perpignan, thus honoured,
I returned, and having entered
Once a guard-house there to play,
For some trifle I lost temper,
Struck a serjeant, killed a captain,
And maimed others there assembled.
At the cries from every quarter
Speedily the watch collected,
And in flying to a church,
As they hurried to prevent me,
I a catch-pole killed. ('Twas something
One good work to have effected
'Mid so many that were bad.)
May God rest his soul in heaven!--
Far I fled into the country,
And asylum found and shelter
In a convent of religious,
Which was founded in that desert,
Where I lived retired and hidden,
Well taken care of and attended.
For a lady there, a nun,
Was my cousin, which connection
Gave to her the special burden
Of this care. My heart already
Being a basilisk which turned
All the honey into venom,
Passing swiftly from mere liking
To desire -- that monster ever
Feeding on the impossible --
Living fire that with intensest
Fury burns when most opposed --
Flame the wind revives and strengthens,
False, deceitful, treacherous foe
Which doth murder its possessor --
In a word, desire in him,
Who nor God nor law respecteth,
Of the horrible, of the shocking,
Thinks but only to attempt it.--
Yes, I dared . . . . But here disturbed,
When, my lord, I thi