Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

“ You must already be disenchanted with this impostor; these walls are not worthy to be hallowed by your beauty! Shall that form be clasped in the arms of a base-born peasant? Beloved, beautiful Pauline! fly with me—my carriage waits without—I will bear you to a home more meet for your reception. Wealth, luxury, station—all shall yet be yours. I forget your past disdain—I remember only your beauty and my unconquerable love!
Pauline. Sir! leave this house—it is humble: but a husband’s roof, however lowly, is, in the eyes of God and man, the temple of a wife’s honor! ”

“ And hundreds, mingled in that ruin, curse The bankrupt merchant! and the insolvent herd We feasted and made merry cry in scorn, “How pride has fallen!—Lo, the bankrupt merchant!” My daughter, thou hast saved us!
Pauline. And am lost!
M. Deschap. Come, let me hope that Beauseant’s love—
Pauline. His love! Talk not of love. Love has no thought of self! Love buys not with the ruthless usurer’s gold The loathsome prostitution of a hand Without a heart? Love sacrifices all things To bless the thing it loves! He knows not love. Father, his love is hate—his hope revenge! ”

“ Pauline [laughing wildly] . “This is thy palace, where the perfumed light Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps, And every air is heavy with the sighs Of orange-groves, and music from the sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth I’ the midst of roses!” Dost thou like the picture? This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom. O fool—O dupe—O wretch!—I see it all Thy by-word and the jeer of every tongue In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch Of human kindness? if thou hast, why, kill me, And save thy wife from madness. ”

“ Ha, ha! most noble Prince—I am sorry to see a man of your quality in such a condition; I am afraid your highness will go to the House of Correction.
Mel. Taunt on, sir; I spared you when you were unarmed—I am unarmed now. A man who has no excuse for crime is indeed defenceless!
Damas. There’s something fine in the rascal, after all!
M. Deschap. Where is the impostor?—Are you thus shameless, traitor? Can you brave the presence of that girl’s father?
Mel. Strike me, if it please you—you are her father.
Pauline. Sir—sir, for my sake; whatever his guilt, he has acted nobly in atonement. ”

“ Art flesh art man? or but The shadows seen in sleep? It is too real. What have I done to thee? how sinn’d against thee, That thou shouldst crush me thus? Mel. Pauline, by pride Angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould The evil spirit of a bitter love, And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee. From my first years my soul was fill’d with thee: I saw thee midst the flow’rs the lowly boy Tended, unmark’d by thee—a spirit of bloom, And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape! ”

“ Last night, when you outshone all the beauty of Lyons, you completed your conquest over me! You know that my fortune is not exceeded by any estate in the province,—you know that, but for the Revolution, which has defrauded me of my titles, I should be noble. May I, then, trust that you will not reject my alliance? I offer you my hand and heart.
Pauline [aside.] He has the air of a man who confers a favor!— [Aloud.] Sir, you are very condescending—I thank you humbly; but, being duly sensible of my own demerits, you must allow me to decline the honor you propose. ”

“ Exeunt BEAUSEANT and DESCHAPELLES
Damas. The man who sets his heart upon a woman Is a chameleon, and doth feed on air; From air he takes his colors—holds his life,— Changes with every wind,—grows lean or fat, Rosy with hope, or green with jealousy, Or pallid with despair—just as the gale Varies from North to South—from heat to cold! Oh, woman! woman! thou shouldst have few sins Of thine own to answer for! Thou art the author Of such a book of follies in a man, That it would need the tears of all the angels To blot the record out! ”

“ Shame and ruin Were better than thy misery;—think no more on’t. My sand is wellnigh run—what boots it when The glass is broken? We’ll annul the contract: And if to-morrow in the prisoner’s cell These aged limbs are laid, why still, my child, I’ll think thou art spared; and wait the Liberal Hour That lays the beggar by the side of kings! Pauline, No—no—forgive me! You, my honor’d father,— You, who so loved, so cherish’d me, whose lips Never knew one harsh word! I’m not ungrateful; I am but human!—hush! ”

“ I will send this letter to Pauline’s father: when he arrives, I will place in his hands my own consent to the divorce, and then, O France! my country! accept among thy protectors, thy defenders—the peasant’s Son! Our country is less proud than custom, and does not refuse the blood, the heart, the right hand of the poor man.
Enter Widow.
Widow. My son, thou hast acted ill; but sin brings its own punishment. In the hour of thy remorse, it is not for a mother to reproach thee. ”

“ Pauline—look up, Pauline! thou art safe.
Beau. [levelling his pistol] . Dare you thus insult a man of my birth, ruffian?
Pauline. Oh, spare him—spare my husband!—Beauseant—Claude—no—no [faints] .
Mel. Miserable trickster! shame upon you! brave devices to terrify a woman! Coward!—you tremble—you have outraged the laws—you know that your weapon is harmless—you have the courage of the mountebank, not the bravo!—Pauline, there is no danger.
Beau. I wish thou wert a gentleman—as it is, thou art beneath me.— Good day, and a happy honeymoon.— [Aside.] I will not die till I am avenged. ”

“ That very hour—when passion, turn’d to wrath, Resembled hatred most—when thy disdain Made my whole soul a chaos—in that hour The tempters found me a revengeful tool For their revenge! Thou hadst trampled on the worm It turn’d and stung thee! Pauline. Love, sir, hath no sting. What was the slight of a poor powerless girl To the deep wrong of this most vile revenge? Oh, how I loved this man!—a serf!—a slave! Mel. Hold, lady! No, not slave! Despair is free! ”

“ I am not all hardened—I will not rob her of a holier love than mine. Pauline!—angel of love and mercy!—your memory shall lead me back to virtue!—The husband of a being so beautiful in her noble and sublime tenderness may be poor—may be low born;— (there is no guilt in the decrees of providence!) —but he should be one who can look thee in the face without a blush,—to whom thy love does not bring remorse,—who can fold thee to his heart, and say,—“Here there is no deceit!” I am not that man!
Damas. [aside to MELNOTTE] . Thou art a noble fellow, notwithstanding ”

“ They fight; DAMAS is disarmed. MELNOTTE takes up the sword and returns it to DAMAS respectfully. A just punishment to the brave soldier who robs the state of its best property—the sole right to his valor and his life.
Damas. Sir, you fence exceedingly well; you must be a man of honor—I don’t care a jot whether you are a prince; but a man who has carte and tierce at his fingers’ ends must be a gentleman. ”

“ Well, this love Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope; I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell—how maidens sprung from kings Have stoop’d from their high sphere; how love, like death Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd’s crook Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home In the soft palace of a fairy Future! My father died; and I, the peasant-born, Was my own lord. ”

“ The law shall do thee justice, and restore Thy right to bless another with thy love. And when thou art happy, and hast half forgot Him who so loved—so wrong’d thee, think at least Heaven left some remnant of the angel still In that poor peasant’s nature! ”

“ Did you not write to Pauline Deschappelles, the daughter of the rich merchant?
Mel. Well?
Gaspar. And are you not a peasant—a gardener’s son?—that was the offence. Sleep on it, Melnotte. Blows to a French citizen, blows! [Exit.
Widow. Now you are cured, Claude!
Mel. tearing the letter. So do I scatter her image to the winds—I will stop her in the open streets—I will insult her—I will beat her menial ruffians—I will— [Turns suddenly to Widow.] Mother, am I humpbacked—deformed—hideous? Widow. You!
Mel. A coward—a thief—a liar? ”

“ What if we could make this elegant clown pass himself off as a foreign prince?—lend him money, clothes, equipage for the purpose?—make him propose to Pauline?—marry Pauline? Would it not be delicious?
Gla. Ha, ha!—Excellent! But how shall we support the necessary expenses of his highness?
Beau. Pshaw! Revenge is worth a much larger sacrifice than a few hundred louis;—as for details, my valet is the trustiest fellow, in the world, and shall have the appointment of his highness’s establishment. ”

“ May thorns be planted in the marriage-bed! And love grow sour’d and blacken’d into hate Such as the hate that gnaws me! Damas. Curse away And let me tell thee, Beauseant, a wise proverb The Arabs have,—“Curses are like young chickens, [Solemnly.] And still come home to roost!” Beau. Their happiness Maddens my soul! I am powerless and revengeless! [To MADAME. I wish you joy! Ha! ha! the gardener’s son! [Exit. Damas [to GLAVIS] . Your friend intends to hang himself! ”

“ The Lyonnese ought to be very proud of stout General Damas.
Third Officer. Promotion is quick in the French army. This mysterious Morier,—the hero of Lodi, and the favorite of the commander-in-chief,—has risen to a colonel’s rank to two years and a half. Enter DAMAS, as a General.
Damas. Good morrow, gentlemen; I hope you will amuse yourselves during our short stay at Lyons. It is a fine city: improved since I left it. Ah! it is a pleasure to grow old, when the years that bring decay to ourselves do but ripen the prosperity of our country. You have not met with Morier? ”

“ What is past is past. There is a future left to all men, who have the virtue to repent, and the energy to atone. Thou shalt be proud of thy son yet. Meanwhile, remember this poor lady has been grievously injured. For the sake of thy son’s conscience, respect, honor, bear with her. If she weep, console—if she chide, be silent. ”

“ Gla. This very day! Poor Pauline: her dream will be soon over.
Beau. Yes, this day they shall be married; this evening, according to his oath, he shall carry his bride to the Golden Lion, and then pomp, equipage, retinue, and title, all shall vanish at once; and her Highness the Princess shall find that she has refused the son of a Marquis, to marry the son of a gardener.—Oh, Pauline! once loved, now hated, yet still not relinquished, thou shalt drain the cup to the dregs,—thou shalt know what it is to be humbled!
Enter from the house, MELNOTTE, as the Prince of Como, leading in PAULINE ”

“ I never notice such canaille—an ugly, mean-looking clown, if I remember right.
Damas. Yet I heard your porter say he was wonderfully like his highness.
Mel. [taking snuff] . You are complimentary.
Mme. Deschap. For shame, cousin Damas!—like the Prince, indeed!
Pauline. Like you! Ah, mother, like our beautiful prince! I’ll never speak to you again, cousin Damas.
Mel. [aside] . Humph!—rank is a great beautifier! I never passed for an Apollo while I was a peasant; if I am so handsome as a prince, what should I be as an emperor! [Aloud.] Monsieur Beauseant, will you honor me? ”

“ He will drive me mad! if he were but less proud—if he would but ask me to remain—hark, hark—I hear the wheels of the carriage—Sir—Claude, they are coming; have you no word to say ere it is loo late? Quick speak.
Mel. I can only congratulate you on your release. Behold your parents
Enter MONSIEUR and MADAME DESCHAPPELLES and COLONEL DAMAS.
M. Deschap. My child! my child!
Mme. Deschap. Oh, my poor Pauline!—what a villanous hovel this is! Old woman, get me a chair—I shall faint I certainly shall. What will the world say? Child, you have been a fool. A mother’s heart is easily broken. ”

“ BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS bow respectfully, fully. PAULINE and MELNOTTE walk apart.
Mme. Deschap. Good morning, gentlemen; really I am so fatigued with laughter; the dear Prince is so entertaining. What wit he has! Any one may see that he has spent his whole life in courts.
Damas. And what the deuce do you know about courts, cousin Deschappelles? You women regard men just as you buy books—you never care about what is in them, but how they are bound and lettered. ”

“ Never! Cling to him and forsake your parents! His home shall be yours—his fortune yours—his fate yours: the wealth I have acquired by honest industry shall never enrich the dishonest man.
Pauline. And you would have a wife enjoy luxury while a husband toils! Claude, take me; thou canst not give me wealth, titles, station—but thou canst give me a true heart I will work for thee, tend thee, bear with thee, and never, never shall these lips reproach thee for the past.
Damas. ”

“ If you were still a marquis, or if my daughter were intended to marry a commoner,—why, perhaps, we might give you the preference.
Beau. A commoner!—we are all commoners in France now.
Mme. Deschap. In France, yes; but there is a nobility still left in the other countries in Europe. We are quite aware of your good qualities, and don’t doubt that you will find some lady more suitable to your pretensions. We shall be always happy to see you as an acquaintance, M. Beauseant!—My dear child, the carriage will be here presently. ”