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JOHN OF GAUNT AND JOANNA OF KENT.
Joanna. How is this, my cousin,* that you are, what was dearer to him than his life : protect besieged in your own house, by the citizens of what he, valiant as you have seen him, can not ! London? I thought you were their idol.
The father, who foiled so many, hath left no Gaunt. If their idol, madam, I am one which enemies : the innocent child, who can injure no they may tread on as they list when down; but one, finds them ! which, by my soul and knighthood! the ten best Why have you unlaced and laid aside your battle-axes among them shall find it hard work visor? Do not expose your body to those missiles. to unshrine.
Hold your shield before yourself, and step aside. Pardon me.. I have no right perhaps to take I need it not. I am resolved .. or touch this hand .. yet, my sister, bricks and Gaunt. On what, my cousin ? Speak, and by stones and arrows are not presents fit for you : the Lord ! it shall be done. This breast is your let me conduct you some paces hence.
shield ; this arm is mine. Joanna. I will speak to those below in the Joanna. Heavens! who could have hurled street : quit my hand : they shall obey me. those masses of stone from below! they stunned
Gaunt. If you intend to order my death, me. Did they descend all of them together? or madam, your guards who have entered my court, did they split into fragments on hitting the and whose spurs and halberts I hear upon the pavement ? staircase, may overpower my domestics ; and, Gaunt. Truly I was not looking that way: they seeing no such escape as becomes my dignity, I came, I must believe, while you were speaking. submit to you. Behold my sword at your feet ! Joanna. Aside! aside! further back ! disregard Some formalities, I trust, will be used in the pro- me! Look! that last arrow sticks half its head ceedings against me. Entitle me, in my attainder, deep in the wainscot. It shook so violently, I did not John of Gaunt, not Duke of Lancaster, not not see the feather at first. King of Castile; nor commemorate my father, the No, no, Lancaster ! I will not permit it. Take most glorious of princes, the vanquisher and par- your shield up again ; and keep it all before you. doner of the most powerful; nor style me, what Now step aside . . I am resolved to prove whether those who loved or who flattered me did when I the people will hear me. was happier, cousin to the Fair Maid of Kent. Gaunt. Then, madam, by your leave ... Joanna! those days are over! But no enemy, no Joanna. Hold ! forbear! Come hither ! hither law, no eternity can take away from me, or move not forward. further off, my affinity in blood to the conqueror
Gaunt. Villains ! take back to your kitchens in the field of Cressy, of Poictiers, and Najora. those spits and skewers that you forsooth would Edward was my brother when he was but your fain call swords and arrows; and keep your bricks cousin ; and the edge of my shield has clinked on and stones for your graves ! his in many a battle. Yes, we were ever near, if Joanna. Imprudent man! who can save you? not in worth, in danger.
I shall be frightened : I must speak at once. Joanna. Attainder! God avert it! Duke of O good kind people ! ye who so greatly loved Lancaster, what dark thought... Alas! that the me, when I am sure I had done nothing to deRegency should have known it! I came hither, serve it, have I (unhappy me !) no merit with you sir, for no such purpose as to ensnare or incrimi- now, when I would assuage your anger, protect nate or alarm you.
your fair fame, and send you home contented with These weeds might surely have protected me yourselves and me! Who is he, worthy citizens, from the fresh tears you have drawn forth. whom ye would drag to slaughter ?
Gaunt. Sister, be comforted ! this visor too has True indeed he did revile some one; neither I felt them.
nor you can say whom ; some feaster and rioter, Joanna. O my Edward ! my own so lately! Thy it seems, who had little right (he thought) to carry memory .. thy beloved image .. which never sword or bow, and who, to show it, hath slunk hath abandoned me .. makes me bold; I dare away. And then another raised his anger ; he not say generous; for in saying it I should cease was indignant that, under his roof, a woman should to be so .. and who could be called generous by be exposed to stoning. Which of you would not the side of thee! I will rescue from perdition the be as choleric in a like affront? In the house enemy of my son,
of which among you, should I not be protected as Cousin, you loved your brother : love then resolutely ?
No, no : I never can believe those angry cries. * Joanna, called the fair maid of Kent, was cousin of Let none ever tell me again he is the enemy of the Black Prince, whom she married. John of Gaunt was my son, of his king, your darling child Richard. suspected of aiming at the crown in the beginning of Are your fears more lively than a poor weak Richard's minority, which, increasing the hatred of the female's ? than a mother's? yours, whom he hath people against him for favouring the sect of Wicliffe, excited them to demolish his house and to demand his so often led to victory, and praised to his father, impeachment.
naming each .. He, John of Gaunt, the defender of the helpless, the comforter of the desolate, the astonishment, almost with consternation, while it rallying signal of the desperately brave !
establishes the throne : what must it be when it Retire, Duke of Lancaster! This is no time.. is lifted up in vengeance!
Gaunt. Madam, I obey: but not through terror Gaunt. Wind; vapour..
Joanna. In the name of my son then, retire ! Gaunt. Rather say, madam, that there is always
Joanna. I think I know his voice that crieth them. out, “Who will answer for him ?" An honest and Joanna. Go, cousin ! another time more sinloyal man’s, one who would counsel and save me cerity! in any difficulty and danger. With what plea- Gaunt. You have this day saved my life from sure and satisfaction, with what perfect joy and the people : for I now see my danger better, when confidence, do I answer our right-trusty and well- it is no longer close before me. My Christ ! if judging friend !
ever I forget .. “Let Lancaster bring his sureties," say you, Joanna. Swear not: every man in England “and we separate.” A moment yet before we hath sworn what you would swear. But if you separate; if I might delay you so long, to receive abandon my Richard, my brave and beautiful your sanction of those sureties; for in such grave child, may .. Oh! I could never curse, nor wish matters it would ill become us to be over-hasty. an evil : but, if you desert him in the hour of I could bring fifty, I could bring a hundred, not need, you will think of those who have not de from among soldiers, not from among courtiers, serted you, and your own great heart will lie but selected from yourselves, were it equitable and heavy on you, Lancaster ! fair to show such partialities, or decorous in the Am I graver than I ought to be, that you look parent and guardian of a king to offer any other dejected? Come then, gentle cousin, lead me to than herself.
my horse, and accompany me home. Richard Raised by the hand of the Almighty from will embrace us tenderly. Every one is dear to amidst you, but still one of you, if the mother of every other upon rising out fresh from peril : a family is a part of it, here I stand, surety for affectionately then will he look, sweet boy, upon John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, for his loyalty his mother and his uncle ! Never mind hot and allegiance.
many questions he may ask you, nor how strange Gaunt (running toward Joanna). Are the ones. His only displeasure, if he has any, will rioters then bursting into the chamber through be, that he stood not against the rioters; or the windows?
among them. Joanna. The windows and doors of this solid Gaunt. Older than he have been as fond of edifice rattled and shook at the people's acclama- mischief, and as fickle in the choice of a party, tion. My word is given for you : this was theirs I shall tell him that, coming to blows, the in return. Lancaster! what a voice have the assailant is often in the right; that the assailed people when they speak out! It shakes me with is always.
M. VILLELE AND M. CORBIERE.
Villèle. We are safe: God defends the monarchy. Corbière. Oh! I did not recollect at first that The Giraffe is arrived.
the Egyptians call by that name their old mumCorbière. The Giraffe !
mies and obelisks .. Villèle. The Giraffe, the Giraffe.
Villèle. It is no mummy, no obelisk, but a ro Corbière. I pay little attention to these barba- turn for the fine frigate .. rians : they enter not within my department. In Corbière. Very true! very true! these nantical what canton of India are his dominions?
terms always escape me. Why can not we speak Villèle. Whose dominions? You are absent, of them in French ? Why recur to Dutch, English, my dear Corbière.
Egyptian, and what not? Corbière. No, not at all. I suspected he would Villèle. The Giraffe is a beast .. be troublesome to Pondicherry. I know very Corbière. I know it: who does not know that? well he has agents at Madagascar. A schooner So is the unicorn : yet we call a ship the Unicors, off Cape Verde might ... Let us think of it. We and on the same principle the Giraffe. Hare I never can trust the English near us. We ought explained my meaning ? not to have ceded to them so much at the late The pasha, I understand, has given us another peace, when we made them come to us in Paris frigate, in compensation for that which we and had them under our thumb. Our trade lan. equipped in his service. I hope he has rememguishes extremely in those colonies.
bered that we two sent him our best sailors, sent Villèle. Pardon me: I spoke of the Giraffe, him powder, artillery, gunners, and as many that the Pasha of Egypt has sent over, in homage officers as the jesuits could persuade to abjure the to his ally and friend, our most august master. christian faith, pro tempore, cum reservatione
mentis, et ad certum finem, nempe gloriam Dei et that are all heart, and copper and iron upon the suæ ecclesiæ.
surface of the ground, they can construct more Villèle. You speak excellent Latin.
ships; and, before the war is over, we always Corbière. Ciceronian, Ciceronian : you may find teach them how to fight. Beside, they take the very words in that great man's commentary, twenty while we build one. De Gloria in ercelsis.
Corbière. We may laugh at that: it can only Well, well, we must not always be scholars: now last for a time. to business. The pasha, I trust, has notified his Now the giraffe you were talking of. There gratitude, that we ordered the frigate to sail ex- are some difficulties, some considerations . . I actly in readiness to sink M. Cochrane.
would know more about it. Villèle. We are unlucky in our sinking of Villèle. The giraffe is ... Englishmen. Several thousands of them were Corbière. I know perfectly well what giraffes sunk by us in the late war, as we read in the are in general : but this one, being sent by our Moniteur; but they rose up again, being amphi- friend the pasha, may differ, not perhaps essenbious, and fought like devils. The most impru- tially, but in a leg or two and in colour. dent thing that Napoleon ever did, was, to drive Villèle. The giraffe is a quadruped, that, acthem into the sea. He did it fifty times at the cording to Buffon and Tite-Live ... least, and they always came out again the stronger Corbière. O parbleu ! now you explain the for it, and finally dragged him in after them, and thing completely. It is the very creature put gave him such a ducking that he died.
down in the list with hippopotamus, rhinoceros, Corbière. You used the word amphibious. In lynx, zebra, and that other. How considerate and my literary recreations, which a close attention attentive is our friend, Mohammed-Ali! Who to politics renders necessary, I have entered into could have expected that a brute of a pasha several discussions upon that word. Originally it would have followed our directions so precisely! is not French, and must be used cautiously, and Villèle. He sees his interests as clearly as only in a particular acceptation. It signifies a very we see ours, and knows them to be the same. fierce animal ; such as a crocodile, a dromedary, M. Appony told you truly that Athens would fall an ostrich, or a certain serpent of the desert. It about this time; that England, as we desired of may comprehend also, by the figure we call meta her minister, would refuse to ratify the conven
. that is, meta, &c., &c., ... a stout man, ortion with Russia and us; and that the people strong-minded one. I was formerly at table in of Paris would be frantic at the extinction of the company with the Duke de la Rochefoucauld. Greeks, unless there came over some odd beast to Liancourt, and wished him to support my defini. look at. The cause of kings triumphs : long live tion, which, as I was not then in the ministry, no the pasha and the giraffe ! one else would. Although he declined to lend Corbière. Let us order a thanksgiving in the me all the assistance I could have desired, he churches, on this signal intervention of divine silenced my opponents, or rather he conciliated Providence. all parties, by saying that a man was justly called Villèle. Much obliged as we are to the saints of amphibious who could live equally well and hap- heaven, for such a declaration of their goodwill in pily in office or out. C'pon which I turned to our behalf, we may abstain at present from proM. Gregoire, and said intelligibly enough, “Let mulgating a royal ordinance, particularly as the faction be silent; let quibbling cease ! Democracy archbishop of Paris, though a good Frenchman, herself has no longer the effrontery to deny that had a sort of objection to offer up any, for all the amphibious means strong-minded.” Overcome hailstorms and all the inundations we have been by authority, he bowed assent, and declared that favoured with lately to the same effect. He was neither he nor anyone could follow a surer guide, of opinion that there are people who would carp in thought or action, than M. de la Rochefou- at it, observing that even the discharge of the cauld. The whole party rose up, bending first to national guard had made a bustle, in some quarM. Gregoire, then to the duke, who, returning ters of Paris, for almost a week. In vain I prothe salute, took the old man by the elbow andmised him that I would restore the censorship on conducted him to the ladies. I never was less printing : I did it: he still was timid, and recomwitty with them in my life.
mended that the thanksgiving should be private. Villèle. Be contented: we have stripped of He told me that the utmost he could do, was, on their authority, we have deprived of considera- his word of honour, as archbishop and peer of tion, the two persons that twenty-five millions France, to assure God and his father and mother call the two best in France. As for the word that we are quite sincere, and would thank him amphibious, we will drop it: it is an ugly word, more openly, more loudly, and more munificently, and I should not like it to be applied to me. if the king and clergy thought it expedient.
Curbière. But these English ; I do not discover Corbière. That affair of the censorship was that they come under the designation more than opportune. Every nation is restored to tranquilother people.
lity and independence, yet is open-mouthed for Villde. Not indeed in your sense.
I was ob- Lives of Napoleon. serving that by sea they usually give us some Villèle. Too true: I have seen one, compiled trouble. Having more mor
than and oaks from old gazettes, that made the author's fortune:
| yet the style is low and ungrammatical wherever king must forbid ; or where would be distinction?
it is his own, and the materials are coarse and where prerogative ? M. Canning by our advice undigested. You would not trust a valet with an has assumed the tone and air of a liberal, in order odd glove, who possesses so little discernment of to make the liberals of England keep the peace, the truth, or feels so little desire of it. The and to torpefy and paralyze the efforts of the author had the effrontery to ask Madame Hor- rebels. Two or three years ago an idle visionary, tense for documents; and, because she refused an obscure and ignorant writer, in a work en them, he blackens the whole house from top to titled Imaginary Contersations, was hired by some bottom, running first among the gazetteers, and low bookseller to vilify all the great men of boasting publicly that she complied with his the present age, to magnify all the philosophers wishes.
and republicans of the past, and to propose the Curbière. Cannot we employ him?
means of erecting Greece into an independent Villèle. Peace, peace! He serves us, and is paid state. Unhappily we find ourselves reduced to by others. The best arrangement possible. adopt the plan of this contemptible author, who
Corbière. We may indirectly guide him to way- writes with as much freedom and as little care lay our enemies.
All popular writers must have for consequences as if he could claim the right of many assistants at the press : without it, who can entering the cabinet, and held a place under be popular? Let him call out as many as he government of three thousand pounds a-year. wants of these : let them join him at the first we have however inserted one paragraph of our whistle, and push down the precipice any one we own, which totally neutralizes the remainder. may point out to him, walking alone and uncon- Corbière. I am glad to hear it: what is that? cernedly in the narrower paths of literature, where Villèle. Turkey shall admit only whom she few people come, and none help.
chooses for chief magistrate of Greece. This will Villèle. The thought is a good one : we will reduce the nation to the same condition as Walfollow it.
lachia and Moldavia. Unless we had erected the censorship, fifty Corbière. But will it not render the Greeks as hired writers would not have sufficed. Those who ready to admit the Russians ? hated and detested Napoleon, while he was living Villèle. Do not look forward. Sufficient for and in authority, began to think his death a the day is the evil thereof. Looking forward i calamity to the world. We were told of his vic-makes philosophers : looking backward makes tories, of his institutions, of his rewards to valour, dissidents : the good catholic and sound royalist to agriculture, to manufactures, to letters, to all do neither. the fine arts, to worth of every kind. We were Corbière. There never was anything so wonderasked what genius languished under him, what ful in policy, as that Russia should have abstained industry was discouraged, what invention was so long from hostilities with Turkey, when every reprimanded, what science was proscribed. We nation in Europe called on her against the oppres were reminded of public festivals to honour the sor of Greece, the violator of treaties, the persecuobscurer fathers of general officers, and of public tor of that religion of which her emperor is head, grief at their funerals. He did great evil : how the murderer of those patriarchs whom she vene much greater must that be (people cry) which rates as martyrs; and when the most ingenious covers and conceals it, and which lets our France, of her enemies could not deny the justice of her bending in sadness over the abyss, see now but cause. The British minister would not have the titles of her triumphs, and one bright name dared to ask from Parliament one shilling to below them.
oppose it: and in France both royalist and repubCorbière. Galimatias! galimatias !
lican have entered into a conspiracy for Greece. Villèle. So it is. There is no danger of his The king and his ministers alone are out of it: rising up from the dead before his time. Only one in all other countries of Europe the minority thief ever did that.
consists of the same number and the same persons. Corbière. And it was not to filch or fight, but Villèle. Never were three millions of francs so to eat a good supper in Paradise.
wisely spent as the last of ours at Petersburg. Villèle. Which he must have wanted after the How the child Nicolas will stamp and stare ! work of the day.
Chateaubriand says of us, in his poetical mood, Corbière. He died a catholic; he confessed in “Children of Charlemagne and St. Louis, you articulo; he prayed.
have broken the spear of Pallas, and plucked her Villèle. Well; we may think at some other owlet.” Come along, my dear Corbiere! we shall time of the worthy thief. Thank God, we have sleep soundly after dinner on the cushion stuffed nothing left to apprehend from liberalism or with her feathers. letters.
Corbière. Russia may give us some trouble yet ; Corbière. I doubt whether the censorship would not indeed our colleagues his ministers; but not have saved us, even without the giraffe. Nicolas. He must find them out at last.
Villèle. There never was a question, in ancient Villèle. Why did the booby wait to play his days or modern, in which every people of Europe rubber till the lights were out? I suspect he will was perfectly agreed, until the Greek cause was wake in the morning with a cramp in the calf, for agitated. Now what every people wishes, every having stood so long cross-legged behind our
chairs. M. Canning may ratify now, if he will; the most consistent of men, though (between ourour king will not take it amiss in him; nor his selves) he has deserted his party, supplanted his neither.
patrons, and abandoned every principlo he proCorbière. We will compliment him in the name tested he would uphold. of our royal master and in our own. We will Corbière. Do you call that inconsistency? I speak magnificently of his firmness, his persever thought you a better casuist. We have him where ance, his timing of things well.
we wanted him: could not we make the other his Villele. He understands jokes and jeers : he successor, if still living? He was merely called in himself is a joker and jeerer.
the chamber of representatives what we are called Corbière. Is he? How he will laugh then at the every-where else. Such men should divide the dupes he has made !
world. Villile. Ah! my dear Corbière ! his dupes Villèle. Keep the world before the fire awhile never shut their eyes but upon full pockets : longer, and its flesh and bones will separate more they are whigs and Scotchmen: cheat them if easily. Let it cool a little in the dish before we you can : be not cheated by them if you can help touch it with our fingers : others have harder it. They are lawyers, literators, metaphysicians ; ones and more enterprising, but will never lift so but whose metaphysics have always a nucleus of much to the mouth. The pulpit is ours, the pen attractive arithmetic in the centre. Scotland is ours, the bayonet is ours : we have quashed is the country where everyone draws advantage everything that was not : we have only to make from every wind that springs up, from every van England do the same, now she has a liberal for a that turns, and catches his grist from under it. minister. In that country, if you wrote dwarf on They are fierce with empty stomachs, and con- the back of a giant he would go for a dwarf. fident with full ones. Their tune is always the Corbière. Then the best thing you can do, is, to same; the words alone are different; and even let people there write for ever. Here indeed these are thrown backward and forward and shut- they have lost all decency: persons who do not tled with such dexterity, they would persuade you pay fifty francs a-year in taxes, were setting us they are of the same substance, tendency, and right perpetually. import; and that, if you cannot perceive it, the Villèle. Always to set one right is very wrong: fault is entirely in your apprehension. Edinburgh patience wears out under it. The indexes of a is the city where a youth practises best the gym- watch may be turned by key after key, and finger nastic exercises of patriotism. Time never fails after finger, until at last they are so loose that to render his eye-sight clearer, to knit his joints everything moves them but the works. with sounder logic, to force away in due season Corbière. My dear Villèle, you grow dull ; you the shrivelling blossom from the swelling fruit, reflect; you reason; you make observations. In and to substitute the real and weighty for the fine, the Greeks are past hope ; the good cause is speculative and vain. Somebody of this descrip. safe. tion, I know not whether Scotch or English, or
Vilèle. Down comes the Parthenon : down partaking of both, but whig unequivocally, was comes the temple of Theseus : down comes the called a liar in the House of Commons by his study of Demosthenes. worthy friend M. Canning; and you would really Corbière. Away with paganism and republicanhave thought him angry; so admirably did he ism! Vive le roi ! manage it. Now he swears that M. Canning is Villèle, Vive le roi !
Lady Lisle. Madam, I am confident you will only to utter some expressions of devotion; and pardon me; for affliction teaches forgiveness. again you looked upon me; and tears rolled down
Elizabeth Gaunt. From the cell of the con- your face. Alas! that I should, by any circumdemned we are going, unless my hopes mislead stance, any action or recollection, make another me, where alone we can receive it.
unhappy. Alas! that I should deepen the gloom Tell me, I beseech you, lady! in what matter or in the very shadow of death. manner do you think you can have offended a Elizabeth Gaunt. Be comforted : you have not poor sinner such as I am. Surely we come into done it. Grief softens and melts and flows away this dismal place for our offences; and it is not with tears. here that any can be given or taken.
I wept because another was greatly more Lady Lisle. Just now, when I entered the wretched than I myself. I wept at that black prison, I saw your countenance serene and cheer- attire; at that attire of modesty and of widowful; you looked upon me for a time with an unal- hood. tered eye: you turned away from me, as I fancied, Lady Lisle. It covers a wounded, almost a
broken heart : an unworthy offering to our blessed * Burnet relates from William Penn, who was present, Redeemer. that Elizabeth Gaunt placed the faggots round her body with her own hands. Lady Lisle was not burnt alive, Let us offer our prayers and our thanks at once
Elizabeth Gaunt. In his name let us now rejoice! though sentenced to it, but banged and beheaded.