Act III, Scene IV
FIESCO; the MOOR, entering hastily.
FIESCO. Whence come you thus out of breath?
MOOR. Quick, my lord!
FIESCO. Has anything run into the net?
MOOR. Read this letter. Am I really here? Methinks Genoa is become shorter by twelve streets, or else my legs have grown that much longer! You change color? Yes, yes--they play at cards for heads, and yours is the chief stake. How do you like it?
FIESCO (throws the letter on the table with horror). Thou woolly-pated rascal! How camest thou by that letter?
MOOR. Much in the same way as your grace will come by the republic. An express was sent with it towards Levanto. I smelt out the game; waylaid the fellow in a narrow pass, despatched the fox, and brought the poultry hither----
FIESCO. His blood be on thy head! As for the letter, 'tis not to be paid with gold.
MOOR. Yet I will be content with silver for it--(seriously, and with a look of importance). Count of Lavagna! 'twas but the other day I sought your life. To-day (pointing to the letter) I have preserved it. Now I think his lordship and the scoundrel are even. My further service is an act of friendship--(presents another letter) number two!
FIESCO (receives it with astonishment). Art thou mad?
MOOR. Number two--(with an arrogant air--his arms akimbo) the lion has not acted foolishly in pardoning the mouse. Ah! 'twas a deed of policy. Who else could e'er have gnawed the net with which he was surrounded? Now, sir, how like you that?
FIESCO. Fellow, how many devils hast thou in pay?
MOOR. But one, sir, at your service; and he is in your grace's keeping.
FIESCO. What! Doria's own signature! Whence dost thou bring this paper?
MOOR. Fresh from the hands of my Diana. I went to her last night, tempted her with your charming words, and still more charming sequins. The last prevailed. She bade me call early in the morning. Lomellino had been there as you predicted, and paid the toll to his contraband heaven with this deposit.
FIESCO (indignantly). Oh, these despicable woman-slaves! They would govern kingdoms, and cannot keep a secret from a harlot. By these papers I learn that Doria and his party have formed a plot to murder me, with eleven senators, and to place Gianettino on the throne.
MOOR. Even so--and that upon the morning of the ducal election, the third of this month.
FIESCO (vehemently). The night of our enterprise shall smother that morning in its very birth. Speed thee, Hassan. My affairs are ripe. Collect our fellows. We will take bloody lead of our adversaries. Be active, Hassan!
MOOR. I have a budget full of news beside. Two thousand soldiers are safely smuggled into the city. I've lodged them with the Capuchins, where not even a prying sunbeam can espy them. They burn with eagerness to see their leader. They are fine fellows.
FIESCO. Each head of them shall yield thee a ducat. Is there no talk about my galleys?
MOOR. Oh, I've a pleasant story of them, my lord. Above four hundred adventurers, whom the peace 'twixt France and Spain has left without employ, besought my people to recommend them to your grace to fight against the infidels. I have appointed them to meet this evening in the palace-court.
FIESCO (pleased). I could almost embrace thee, rascal. A masterly stroke! Four hundred, said'st thou? Genoa is in my power. Four hundred crowns are thine----
MOOR (with an air of confidence). Eh, Fiesco? We two will pull the state in pieces, and sweep away the laws as with a besom. You know not how many hearty fellows I have among the garrison--lads that I can reckon on as surely as on a trip to hell. Now I've so laid my plans that at each gate we have among the guard at least six of our creatures, who will be enough to overcome the others by persuasion or by wine. If you wish to risk a blow to-night, you'll find the sentinels all drenched with liquor.
FIESCO. Peace, fellow! Hitherto I have moved the vast machine alone; shall I now, at the very goal, be put to shame by the greatest rascal under the sun? Here's my hand upon it, fellow--whate'er the Count remains indebted to thee, the Duke shall pay.
MOOR. And here, too, is a note from the Countess Imperiali. She beckoned to me from her window, when I went up received me graciously, and asked me ironically if the Countess of Lavagna had not been lately troubled with the spleen. Does your grace, said I, inquire but for one person?
FIESCO (having read the letter throws it aside). Well said. What answer made she?
MOOR. She answered, that she still lamented the fate of the poor bereaved widow--that she was willing to give her satisfaction, and meant to forbid your grace's attentions.
FIESCO (with a sneer). Which of themselves may possibly cease sometime before the day of judgment. Is that all thy business, Hassan?
MOOR (ironically). My lord, the affairs of the ladies are next to those of state.
FIESCO. Without a doubt, and these especially. But for what purpose are these papers?
MOOR. To remove one plague by another. These powders the signora gave me, to mix one every day with your wife's chocolate.
FIESCO (starting). Gave thee?
MOOR. Donna Julia, Countess Imperiali.
FIESCO (snatching them from him eagerly). If thou liest, rascal, I'll hang thee up alive in irons at the weathercock of the Lorenzo tower, where the wind shall whirl thee nine times round with every blast. The powders?
MOOR (impatiently). I am to give your wife mixed with her chocolate. Such were the orders of Donna Julia Imperiali.
FIESCO (enraged). Monster! monster! This lovely creature! Is there room for so much hell within a female bosom? And I forgot to thank thee, heavenly Providence, that has rendered it abortive--abortive through a greater devil. Wondrous are thy ways! (To the MOOR.) Swear to me to obey, and keep this secret.
MOOR. Very well. The latter I can afford--she paid me ready money.
FIESCO. This note invites me to her. I'll be with you, madam!--and find means to lure you hither, too. Now haste thee, with all thy speed, and call together the conspirators.
MOOR. This order I anticipated, and therefore at my own risk appointed every one to come at ten o'clock precisely.
FIESCO. I hear the sound of footsteps. They are here. Fellow, thy villany deserves a gallows of its own, on which no son of Adam was ever yet suspended. Wait in the ante-chamber till I call for thee.
MOOR. The Moor has done his work--the Moor may go.
[Exit.
Act III, Scene V
FIESCO, VERRINA, BOURGOGNINO, CALCAGNO, SACCO.
FIESCO (meeting them). The tempest is approaching: the clouds rash together. Advance with caution. Let all the doors be locked.
VERRINA. Eight chambers have I made fast behind. Suspicion cannot come within a hundred steps of us.
BOURGOGNINO. Here is no traitor, unless our fear become one.
FIESCO. Fear cannot pass my threshold. Welcome he whose mind remains the same as yesterday. Be seated. (They seat themselves.)
BOURGOGNINO (walking up and down). I care not to sit in cold deliberation when action calls upon me.
FIESCO. Genoese, this hour is eventful.
VERRINA. Thou hast challenged us to consider a plan for dethroning the tyrant. Demand of us--we are here to answer thee.
FIESCO. First, then, a question which, as it comes so late, you may think strange. Who is to fall? (A pause.)
BOURGOGNINO (leaning over FIESCO'S chair, with an expressive look). The tyrants.
FIESCO. Well spoken. The tyrants. I entreat you weigh well the importance of the word. Is he who threatens the overthrow of liberty--or he who has it in his power--the greater tyrant?
VERRINA. The first I hate, I fear the latter. Let Andreas Doria fall!
CALCAGNO (with emotion). Andreas? The old Andreas! who perhaps to-morrow may pay the debt of nature----
SACCO. Andreas? That mild old man!
FIESCO. Formidable is that old man's mildness, O my friend--the brutality of Gianettino only deserves contempt. "Let Andreas fall!" There spoke thy wisdom, Verrina.
BOURGOGNINO. The chain of iron, and the cord of silk, alike are bonds. Let Andreas perish!
FIESCO (going to the table). The sentence, then is passed upon the uncle and the nephew. Sign it! (They all sign.) The question who is settled. How must be next determined. Speak first, Calcagno.
CALCAGNO. We must execute it either as soldiers or assassins. The first is dangerous, because we must have many confidants. 'Tis also doubtful, because the peoples' hearts are not all with us. To act the second our five good daggers are sufficient. Two days hence high mass will be performed in the Lorenzo Church--both the Dorias will be present. In the house of God even a tyrant's cares are lulled to sleep. I have done.
FIESCO (turning away). Calcagno, your plan is politic, but 'tis detestable. Raphael Sacco, yours?
SACCO. Calcagno's reasons please me, but the means he chooses my mind revolts at. Better were it that Fiesco should invite both the uncle and nephew to a feast, where, pressed on all sides by the vengeance of the republic, they must swallow death at the dagger's point, or in a bumper of good Cyprian. This method is at least convenient.
FIESCO (with horror). Ah, Sacco! What if the wine their dying tongues shall taste become for us torments of burning pitch in hell! Away with this advice! Speak thou, Verrina.
VERRINA. An open heart shows a bold front. Assassination degrades us to banditti. The hero advances sword in hand. I propose to give aloud the signal of revolt, and boldly rouse the patriots of Genoa to vengeance. (He starts from his seat, the others do the same.)
BOURGOGNINO (embracing him). And with armed hand wrest Fortune's favors from her. This is the voice of honor, and is mine.
FIESCO. And mine. Shame on you, Genoese! (to SACCO and CALCAGNO). Fortune has already done too much for us, let something be our own. Therefore open revolt! And that, Genoese, this very night----(VERRINA and BOURGOGNINO astonished--the others terrified.)
CALCAGNO. What! To-night! The tyrants are yet too powerful, our force too small.
SACCO. To-night! And naught prepared? The day is fast declining.
FIESCO. Your doubts are reasonable, but read these papers. (He gives them GIANETTINO'S papers, and walks up and down with a look of satisfaction, whilst they read them eagerly.) Now, farewell, thou proud and haughty star of Genoa, that didst seem to fill the whole horizon with thy brightness. Knowest thou not that the majestic sun himself must quit the heavens, and yield his sceptre to the radiant moon? Farewell, Doria, beauteous star!
Patroclus to the shades is gone, And he was more than thou.
BOURGOGNINO (after reading the papers). This is horrible.
CALCAGNO. Twelve victims at a blow!
VERRINA. To-morrow in the senate-house!
BOURGOGNINO. Give me these papers, and I will ride with them through Genoa, holding them up to view. The very stones will rise in mutiny, and even the dogs will howl against the tyrant.
ALL. Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! This very night!
FIESCO. Now you have reached the point. At sunset I will invite hither the principal malcontents--those that stand upon the bloody list of Gianettino! Besides the Sauli, the Gentili, Vivaldi, Vesodimari, all mortal enemies of the house of Doria; but whom the tyrant forgot to fear. They, doubtless, will embrace my plan with eagerness.
BOURGOGNINO. I doubt it not.
FIESCO. Above all things, we must render ourselves masters of the sea. Galleys and seamen I have ready. The twenty vessels of the Dorias are dismantled, and may be easily surprised. The entrance of the inner harbor must be blocked up, all hope of flight cut off. If we secure this point, all Genoa is in our power.
VERRINA. Doubtless.
FIESCO. Then we must seize the strongest posts in the city, especially the gate of St. Thomas, which, leading to the harbor, connects our land and naval forces. Both the Dorias must be surprised within their palaces, and killed. The bells must toll, the citizens be called upon to side with us, and vindicate the liberties of Genoa. If Fortune favor us, you shall hear the rest in the senate.
VERRINA. The plan is good. Now for the distribution of our parts.
FIESCO (significantly). Genoese, you chose me, of your own accord, as chief of the conspiracy. Will you obey my further orders?
VERRINA. As certainly as they shall be the best.
FIESCO. Verrina, dost thou know the principle of all warlike enterprise? Instruct him, Genoese. It is subordination. If your will be not subjected to mine--observe me well--if I be not the head of the conspiracy, I am no more a member.
VERRINA. A life of freedom is well worth some hours of slavery. We obey.
FIESCO. Then leave me now. Let one of you reconnoitre the city and inform me of the strength or weakness of the several posts. Let another find out the watchword. A third must see that the galleys are in readiness. A fourth conduct the two thousand soldiers into my palace-court. I myself will make all preparations here for the evening, and pass the interval perhaps in play. At nine precisely let all be at my palace to hear my final orders. (Rings the bell.)
VERRINA. I take the harbor.
BOURGOGNINO. I the soldiers.
CALCAGNO. I will learn the watchword.
SACCO. I will reconnoitre Genoa.
[Exeunt.
Act III, Scene VI
FIESCO, MOOR.
FIESCO (seated at a desk, and writing). Did they not struggle against the word subordination as the worm against the needle which transfixes it? But 'tis too late, republicans.
MOOR (entering). My lord----
FIESCO (giving him a paper). Invite all those whose names are written here to see a play this evening at my palace.
MOOR. Perhaps to act a part, and pay the admittance with their heads.
FIESCO (in a haughty and contemptuous manner). When that is over I will no longer detain thee here in Genoa. (Going, throws him a purse.) This is thy last employment.
[Exit.
Act III, Scene VII
MOOR, alone.
MOOR (taking up the purse slowly, and looking after FIESCO with surprise). Are we, then, on these terms? "I will detain thee in Genoa no longer." That is to say, translated from the Christian language into my heathen tongue, "When I am duke I shall hang up my friend the Moor upon a Genoese gallows." Hum! He fears, because I know his tricks, my tongue may bring his honor into danger when he is duke. When he is duke? Hold, master count! That event remains to be considered. Ah! old Doria, thy life is in my hands. Thou art lost unless I warn thee of thy danger. Now, if I go to him and discover the plot, I save the Duke of Genoa no less than his existence and his dukedom, and gain at least this hatful of gold for my reward. (Going, stops suddenly.) But stay, friend Hassan, thou art going on a foolish errand. Suppose this scene of riot is prevented, and nothing but good is the result. Pshaw! what a cursed trick my avarice would then have played me! Come, devil, help me to make out what promises the greatest mischief; to cheat Fiesco, or to give up Doria to the dagger. If Fiesco succeed then Genoa may prosper. Away! That must not be. If this Doria escape, then all remains as it was before, and Genoa is quiet. That's still worse! Ay, but to see these rebels' heads upon the block! Hum! On the other hand 'twould be amusing to behold the illustrious Dorias in this evening's massacre the victims of a rascally Moor. No. This doubtful question a Christian might perhaps resolve, but 'tis too deep a riddle for my Moorish brains. I'll go propose it to some learned man.
[Exit.
Act III, Scene VIII
An apartment in the house of the COUNTESS IMPERIALI.
JULIA in dishabille. GIANETTINO enters, agitated.
GIANETTINO. Good-evening, sister.
JULIA (rising). It must be something extraordinary which brings the crown-prince of Genoa to his sister!
GIANETTINO. Sister, you are continually surrounded by butterflies and I by wasps. How is it possible that we should meet? Let's be seated.
JULIA. You almost excite my curiosity.
GIANETTINO. When did Fiesco visit you last?
JULIA. A strange question. As if I burdened my memory with such trifles!
GIANETTINO. I must know--positively.
JULIA. Well, then, he was here yesterday.
GIANETTINO. And behaved without reserve?
JULIA. As usual.
GIANETTINO. As much a coxcomb as ever.
JULIA (offended). Brother!
GIANETTINO (more vehemently). I say--as much a coxcomb----
JULIA (rises, with indignation). Sir! What do you take me for?
GIANETTINO (keeps his seat--sarcastically). For a mere piece of woman-flesh, wrapped up in a great--great patent of nobility. This between ourselves--there is no one by to hear us.
JULIA (enraged). Between ourselves--you are an impertinent jackanapes, and presume upon the credit of your uncle. No one by to hear us, indeed!
GIANETTINO. Sister! sister! don't be angry. I'm only merry because Fiesco is still as much a coxcomb as ever. That's all I wanted to know. Your servant----(Going.)
Act III, Scene IX
The former, LOMELLINO, entering.
LOMELLINO (to JULIA, respectfully). Pardon my boldness, gracious lady. (To GIANETTINO.) Certain affairs which cannot be delayed----(GIANETTINO takes him aside; JULIA sits down angrily at the pianoforte and plays an allegro.)
GIANETTINO (to LOMELLINO). Is everything prepared for to-morrow?
LOMELLINO. Everything, prince--but the courier, who was despatched this morning to Levanto, is not yet returned, nor is Spinola arrived. Should he be intercepted! I'm much alarmed----
GIANETTINO. Fear nothing. You have that list at hand?
LOMELLINO (embarrassed). My lord--the list? I do not know--I must have left it at home in my other pocket.
GIANETTINO. It does not signify--would that Spinola were but here. Fiesco will be found dead in his bed. I have taken measures for it.
LOMELLINO. But it will cause great consternation.
GIANETTINO. In that lies our security. Common crimes but move the blood and stir it to revenge: atrocious deeds freeze it with terror, and annihilate the faculties of man. You know the fabled power of Medusa's head--they who but looked on it were turned to stone. What may not be done, my boy, before stories are warmed to animation?
LOMELLINO. Have you given the countess any intimation of it?
GIANETTINO. That would never do! We must deal more cautiously with her attachment to FIESCO. When she shares the sweets, the cost will soon be forgotten. Come, I expect troops this evening from Milan, and must give orders at the gates for their reception. (To JULIA.) Well, sister, have you almost thrummed away your anger?
JULIA. Go! You're a rude unmannered creature. (GIANETTINO, going, meets FIESCO.)
Act III, Scene X
The former; FIESCO.
GIANETTINO (stepping back). Ha!
FIESCO (with politeness). Prince, you spare me a visit which I was just now about to pay.
GIANETTINO. And I, too, count, am pleased to meet you here.
FIESCO (approaching JULIA courteously). Your charms, signora, always surpass expectation.
JULIA. Fie! that in another would sound ambiguous--but I'm shocked at my dishabille--excuse me, count--(going).
FIESCO. Stay, my beauteous lady. Woman's beauty is ne'er so charming as when in the toilet's simplest garb (laughingly). An undress is her surest robe of conquest. Permit me to loosen these tresses----
JULIA. Oh, how ready are you men to cause confusion!
FIESCO (with a smile to GIANETTINO). In dress, as in the state--is it not so? (To JULIA.) This ribbon, too, is awkwardly put on. Sit down, fair countess--your Laura's skill may strike the eye, but cannot reach the heart. Let me play the chambermaid for once. (She sits down, he arranges her dress.)
GIANETTINO (aside to LOMELLINO). Poor frivolous fellow!
FIESCO (engaged about her bosom). Now see--this I prudently conceal. The senses should always be blind messengers, and not know the secret compact between nature and fancy.
JULIA. That is trifling.
FIESCO. Not at all; for, consider, the prettiest novelty loses all its zest when once become familiar. Our senses are but the rabble of our inward republic. The noble live by them, but elevate themselves above their low, degenerate tastes. (Having adjusted her toilet, he leads her to a glass.) Now, by my honor! this must on the morrow be Genoa's fashion--(politely)--may I have the honor of leading you so abroad, countess?
JULIA. The cunning flatterer! How artfully he lays his plans to ensnare me. No! I have a headache, and will stay at home.
FIESCO. Pardon me, countess. You may be so cruel, but surely you will not. To-day a company of Florentine comedians arrive at my palace. Most of the Genoese ladies will be present this evening at their performance, and I am uncertain whom to place in the chief box without offending others. There is but one expedient. (Making a low bow.) If you would condescend, signora----
JULIA (blushing, retires to a side apartment). Laura!
GIANETTINO (approaching FIESCO). Count, you remember an unpleasant circumstance----
FIESCO (interrupting him). 'Tis my wish, prince, we should both forget it. The actions of men are regulated by their knowledge of each other. It is my fault that you knew me so imperfectly.
GIANETTINO. I shall never think of it without craving your pardon from my inmost soul----
FIESCO. Nor I without forgiving you from my heart's core. (JULIA returns, her dress a little altered.)
GIANETTINO. Count, I just now recollect that you are going to cruise against the Turks----
FIESCO. This evening we weigh anchor. On that account I had some apprehensions from which my friend Doria's kindness may deliver me.
GIANETTINO (obsequiously). Most willingly. Command my utmost influence!
FIESCO. The circumstance might cause a concourse toward the harbor, and about my palace, which the duke your uncle might misinterpret.
GIANETTINO (in a friendly manner). I'll manage that for you. Continue your preparations, and may success attend your enterprise!
FIESCO (with a smile). I'm much obliged to you.
Act III, Scene XI
The former--A GERMAN of the body-guard.
GIANETTINO. What now?
GERMAN. Passing by the gate of St. Thomas I observed a great number of armed soldiers hastening towards the harbor. The galleys of the Count Fiesco were preparing for sea.
GIANETTINO. Is that all? Report it no further.
GERMAN. Very well. From the convent of the Capuchins, too, suspicious rabble are pouring, and steal toward the market-place. From their gait and appearance I should suppose them soldiers.
GIANETTINO (angrily). Out upon this fool's zeal! (To LOMELLINO, aside.) These are undoubtedly my Milanese.
GERMAN. Does your grace command that they should be arrested?
GIANETTINO (aloud to LOMELLINO). Look to them, Lomellino. (To the GERMAN.) Begone! 'Tis all well. (Aside to LOMELLINO.) Bid that German beast be silent.
[Exeunt LOMELLINO and GERMAN.
FIESCO (in another part of the room with JULIA--looks toward GIANETTINO.). Our friend Doria seems displeased. May I inquire the reason?
GIANETTINO. No wonder. These eternal messages.
[Exit hastily.
FIESCO. The play awaits us, too, signora. May I offer you my hand?
JULIA. Stay, let me take my cloak. 'Tis no tragedy I hope, count? It would haunt me in my dreams.
FIESCO (sarcastically). 'Twill excite immoderate laughter.
[He hands her out--the curtain falls.
Act IV
SCENE I.--Night. The court of FIESCO'S palace. The lamps lighted. Persons carrying in arms. A wing of the palace illuminated. A heap of arms on one side of the stage.
BOURGOGNINO, leading a band of soldiers.
BOURGOGNINO. Halt! Let four sentinels be stationed at the great gate. Two at every door of the palace. (The sentinels take their posts.) Let every one that chooses enter, but none depart. If any one attempts to force his way run him through. (Goes with the rest into the palace. The sentinels walk up and down. A pause.)
Act IV, Scene II
ZENTURIONE entering.
SENTINELS AT THE GATE (call out). Who goes there?
ZENTURIONE. A friend of Lavagna. (Goes across the court to the palace on the right.)
SENTINEL THERE. Back! (ZENTURIONE starts, and goes to the door on the left.)
SENTINEL ON THE LEFT. Back!
ZENTURIONE (stands still with surprise. A pause. Then to the SENTINEL on the left). Friend, which is the way to the theatre?
SENTINEL. Don't know.
ZENTURIONE (walks up and down with increasing surprise--then to the SENTINEL on the right). Friend, when does the play begin?
SENTINEL. Don't know.
ZENTURIONE (astonished, walks up and down. Perceives the weapons; alarmed). Friend, what mean these?
SENTINEL. Don't know.
ZENTURIONE (wraps himself up in his cloak, alarmed). Strange!
SENTINELS AT THE GATE (calling out). Who goes there?
Act IV, Scene III
The former, ZIBO entering.
ZIBO. A friend of Lavagna.
ZENTURIONE. Zibo, where are we?
ZIBO. What mean you?
ZENTURIONE. Look around you, Zibo.
ZIBO. Where? What?
ZENTURIONE. All the doors are guarded!
ZIBO. Here are arms----
ZENTURIONE. No one that will answer----
ZIBO. 'Tis strange!
ZENTURIONE. What is it o'clock?
ZIBO. Past eight.
ZENTURIONE. How bitter cold it is!
ZIBO. Eight was the hour appointed.
ZENTURIONE (shaking his head). 'Tis not all as it should be here.
ZIBO. Fiesco means to jest with us----
ZENTURIONE. To-morrow will be the ducal election. Zibo, all's not right here, depend upon it.
ZIBO. Hush! hush!
ZENTURIONE. The right wing of the palace is full of lights.
ZIBO. Do you hear nothing?
ZENTURIONE. A confused murmuring within--and----
ZIBO. The sound of clattering arms----
ZENTURIONE. Horrible! horrible!
ZIBO. A carriage--it stops at the gate!
SENTINELS AT THE GATE (calling out). Who goes there?
Act IV, Scene IV
The former, four of the ASSERATO family.
ASSERATO (entering). A friend of FIESCO.
ZIBO. They are the four Asserati.
ZENTURIONE. Good evening, friends!
ASSERATO. We are going to the play.
ZIBO. A pleasant journey to you!
ASSERATO. Are you not going also?
ZENTURIONE. Walk on. We'll just take a breath of air first.
ASSERATO. 'Twill soon begin. Come. (Going.)
SENTINEL. Back!
ASSERATO. What can this mean?
ZENTURIONE (laughing). To keep you from the palace.
ASSERATO. Here's some mistake----
ZIBO. That's plain enough. (Music is heard in the right wing.)
ASSERATO. Do you hear the symphony? The comedy is going to begin.
ZENTURIONE. I think it has begun, and we are acting our parts as fools.
ZIBO. I'm not over warm--I'll return home.
ASSERATO. Arms here, too?
ZIBO. Poh! Mere play-house articles.
ZENTURIONE. Shall we stand waiting, like ghosts upon the banks of Acheron? Come, let us to a tavern! (All six go towards the gate.)
SENTINELS (calling loudly). Back! Back!
ZENTURIONE. Death and the devil! We are caught.
ZIBO. My sword shall open a passage!
ASSERATO. Put it up! The count's a man of honor.
ZIBO. We are sold! betrayed! The comedy was a bait, and we're caught in a trap.
ASSERATO. Heaven forbid! And yet I tremble for the event.
Act IV, Scene V
The former--VERRINA, SACCO, and NOBLES.
SENTINELS. Who goes there?
VERRINA. Friends of the house. (Seven NOBLES enter with him.)
ZIBO. These are his confidants. Now all will be explained.
SACCO (in conversation with VERRINA). 'Tis as I told you; Lascaro is on guard at the St. Thomas' gate, the best officer of Doria, and blindly devoted to him.
VERRINA. I'm glad of it.
ZIBO (to VERRINA). Verrina, you come opportunely to clear up the mystery.
VERRINA. How so? What mean you?
ZENTURIONE. We are invited to a comedy.
VERRINA. Then we are going the same way.
ZENTURIONE (impatiently). Yes--the way of all flesh. You see--the doors are guarded. Why guard the doors?
ZIBO. Why these sentinels?
ZENTURIONE. We stand here like criminals beneath the gallows.
VERRINA. The count will come himself.
ZENTURIONE. 'Twere well if he came a little faster. My patience begins to fail. (All the NOBLES walk up and down in the background.)
BOURGOGNINO (coming out of the palace, to VERRINA). How goes it in the harbor?
VERRINA. They're all safe on board.
BOURGOGNINO. The palace is full of soldiers.
VERRINA. 'Tis almost nine.
BOURGOGNINO. The count is long in coming.
VERRINA. And yet too quick to gain his wishes. Bourgognino! There is a thought that freezes me.
BOURGOGNINO. Father, be not too hasty.
VERRINA. It is impossible to be too hasty where delay is fatal. I must commit a second murder to justify the first.
BOURGOGNINO. But--when must Fiesco fall?
VERRINA. When Genoa is free Fiesco dies!
SENTINELS. Who goes there?
Act IV, Scene VI
The former, FIESCO.
FIESCO. A friend! (The NOBLES bow--the SENTINELS present their arms.) Welcome, my worthy guests! You must have been displeased at my long absence. Pardon me. (In a low voice to VERRINA.) Ready?
VERRINA (in the same manner). As you wish.
FIESCO (to BOURGOGNINO). And you?
BOURGOGNINO. Quite prepared.
FIESCO (to SACCO). And you?
SACCO. All's right.
FIESCO. And Calcagno?
BOURGOGNINO. Is not yet arrived.
FIESCO (aloud to the SENTINELS). Make fast the gates! (He takes off his hat, and steps forward with dignity towards the assembly.) My friends--I have invited you hither to a play--not as spectators, but to allot to each a part therein.
Long enough have we borne the insolence of Gianettino Doria, and the usurpation of Andreas. My friends, if we would deliver Genoa, no time is to be lost. For what purpose, think you, are those twenty galleys which beset our harbor? For what purpose the alliances which the Dorias have of late concluded? For what purpose the foreign forces which they have collected even in the heart of Genoa? Murmurs and execrations avail no longer. To save all we must dare all. A desperate disease requires a desperate remedy. Is there one base enough in this assembly to own an equal for his master? (Murmurs.) Here is not one whose ancestors did not watch around the cradle of infant Genoa. What!--in Heaven's name!-- what, I ask you, have these two citizens to boast of that they could urge their daring flight so far above our head? (Increasing murmurs.) Every one of you is loudly called upon to fight for the cause of Genoa against its tyrants. No one can surrender a hair's-breadth of his rights without betraying the soul of the whole state. (Interrupted by violent commotions he proceeds.)
You feel your wrongs--then everything is gained. I have already paved your way to glory--Genoese, will you follow? I am prepared to lead you. Those signs of war which you just now beheld with horror should awaken your heroism. Your anxious shuddering must warm into a glorious zeal that you may unite your efforts with this patriotic band to overthrow the tyrant. Success will crown the enterprise, for all our preparations are well arranged. The cause is just, for Genoa suffers. The attempt will render us immortal, for it is vast and glorious----
ZENTURIONE (vehemently, and agitated). Enough! Genoa shall be free! Be this our shout of onset against hell itself!
ZIBO. And may he who is not roused by it pant at the slavish oar till the last trumpet break his chains----
FIESCO. Spoken like men. Now you deserve to know the danger that hung over yourselves and Genoa. (Gives them the papers of the MOOR.) Lights, soldiers! (The nobles crowd about the lights, and read--FIESCO aside to VERRINA.) Friend, it went as I could wish.
VERRINA. Be not too certain. Upon the left I saw countenances that grew pale, and knees that tottered.
ZENTURIONE (enraged). Twelve senators! Infernal villany! Seize each a sword! (All, except two, eagerly take up the weapons that lie in readiness.)
ZIBO. Thy name, too, Bourgognino, is written there.
BOURGOGNINO. Ay, and if Heaven permit, it shall be written to-day upon the throat of Gianettino.
ZENTURIONE. Two swords remain----
ZIBO. Ah! What sayest thou?
ZENTURIONE. Two amongst us have not taken swords.
ASSERATO. My brothers cannot bear the sight of blood--pray spare them!
ZENTURIONE (vehemently). What! Not a tyrant's blood! Tear them to pieces--cowards! Let such bastards be driven from the republic! (Some of the assembly attack the two ASSERATI.)
FIESCO (restraining them). Cease! Shall Genoa owe its liberty to slaves? Shall our pure gold be debased by this alloy? (He disengages them.) Gentlemen, you must be content to take up your abode within my palace until our business be decided. (To the sentinels.) These are your prisoners; you answer for their safety! Guard them with loaded arms. (They are led off--a knocking heard at the gate.)
SENTINEL. Who is there?
CALCAGNO (without, eagerly). Open the gate! A friend! for God's sake, open!
BOURGOGNINO. It is Calcagno--heavens! What can this mean?
FIESCO. Open the gate, soldiers.
Act IV, Scene VII
The former--CALCAGNO, out of breath.
CALCAGNO. All is lost! all is lost! Fly, every one that can!
BOURGOGNINO. What's lost? Have they flesh of brass? Are our swords made of rushes?
FIESCO. Consider, Calcagno! An error now is fatal.
CALCAGNO. We are betrayed! Your Moor, Lavagna, is the rascal! I come from the senate-house. He had an audience of the duke.
VERRINA (with a resolute tone, to the sentinels). Soldiers! let me rush upon your halberts! I will not perish by the hangman's hands. (The assembly show marks of confusion.)
FIESCO (with firmness). What are you about? 'Sdeath, Calcagno! Friends, 'tis a false alarm. (To CALCAGNO, aside.) Woman that thou art to tell these boys this tale. Thou, too, Verrina? and thou, Bourgognino? Whither wouldst thou go?
BOURGOGNINO. Home--to kill my Bertha--and then return to fall with thee.
FIESCO (bursting into a loud laugh). Stay! stay! Is this the valor that should punish tyrants? Well didst thou play thy part, Calcagno. Did none of you perceive that this alarm was my contrivance? Speak, Calcagno? Was it not my order that you should put these Romans to this trial?
VERRINA. Well, if you can laugh I'll believe you--or never more think you man.
FIESCO. Shame on you, men! to fail in such a boyish trial! Resume your arms--you must fight like lions to atone for this disgrace. (Aside to CALCAGNO.) Were you there yourself?
CALCAGNO (low). I made my way among the guards to hear, as was my business, the watchword from the duke. As I was returning the Moor was brought----
FIESCO (aloud). So the old man is gone to bed--we'll drum him out of his feathers. (Low.) Did he talk long with the duke?
CALCAGNO (low). My sudden fright and your impending danger drove me away in haste----
FIESCO (aloud). See how our countrymen still tremble.
CALCAGNO (aloud). You should have carried on the jest. (Low.) For God's sake, friend, what will this artifice avail us?
FIESCO. 'Twill gain us time, and dissipate the first panic. (Aloud.) Ho! bring wine here! (Low.) Did the duke turn pale? (Aloud.) Well, brothers, let us drink success to this night's entertainment. (Low.) Did the duke turn pale?
CALCAGNO. The Moor's first word must have been conspiracy; for the old man started back as pale as ashes.
FIESCO (confused). Hum! the devil is an artful counsellor. Calcagno-- the Moor was cunning, he betrayed nothing till the knife was at his throat. Now he is indeed their savior. (Wine is brought, he drinks to the assembly.) Comrades, success! (A knocking is heard.)
SENTINELS. Who is without?
A VOICE. The guard of the duke's. (The NOBLES rush about the court in despair.)
FIESCO (stepping forward). Oh, my friends! Be not alarmed! I am here-- quick, remove these arms--be men. I entreat you--this visit makes me hope that Andreas still doubts our plot. Retire into the palace: recall your spirits. Soldiers, throw open the gate! (They retire, the gates are opened.)
Act IV, Scene VIII
FIESCO (as if coming from the palace). Three GERMAN SOLDIERS bringing the MOOR, bound.
FIESCO. Who calls me?
GERMANS. Bring us to the count!
FIESCO. The count is here, who wants me?
GERMAN (presenting his arms). Greeting from the duke!--he delivers up to your grace this Moor in chains, who had basely slandered you: the rest this note will tell.
FIESCO (takes it with an air of indifference). Have I not threatened thee already with the galleys? (To the GERMAN.) Very well, my friend, my respects to the duke.
MOOR (hallooing after them). Mine, too--and tell the duke had he not employed an ass for his messenger he would have learned that two thousand soldiers are concealed within these palace walls.
[Exeunt GERMANS, the NOBLES return.
Act IV, Scene IX
FIESCO, the CONSPIRATORS, MOOR (looking at them unconcerned.)
THE CONSPIRATORS (shuddering at the sight of the MOOR). Ha! what means this?
FIESCO (after reading the note with suppressed anger). Genoese, the danger is past--but the conspiracy is likewise at an end----
VERRINA (astonished). What! Are the Dorias dead?
FIESCO (violently agitated). By heavens! I was prepared to encounter the whole force of the republic, but not this blow. This old nerveless man, with his pen, annihilates three thousand soldiers (his hands sink down). Doria overcomes Fiesco!
BOURGOGNINO. Speak, count, we are amazed!
FIESCO (reading). "Lavagna, your fate resembles mine; benevolence is rewarded with ingratitude. The Moor informs me of a plot: I send him back to you in chains, and shall sleep to-night without a guard." (He drops the paper--the rest look at each other.)
VERRINA. Well, Fiesco?
FIESCO (with dignity). Shall Doria surpass me in magnanimity? Shall the race of Fiesco want this one virtue? No, by my honor--disperse--I'll go and own the whole----
VERRINA (stopping him). Art thou mad? Was, then, our enterprise some thievish act of villany? Was it not our country's cause? Was Andreas the object of thy hatred, and not the tyrant? Stay! I arrest thee as a traitor to thy country.
CONSPIRATORS. Bind him! throw him down!
FIESCO (snatching up his sword, and making way through them). Gently! Who will be the first to throw the cord around the tiger? See, Genoese, --I stand here at liberty, and might force my way with ease, had I the will--but I will stay--I have other thoughts----
BOURGOGNINO. Are they thoughts of duty?
FIESCO (haughtily). Ha! boy! learn first to know thy own--and towards me restrain that tongue! Be appeased, Genoese,--our plans remain unaltered. (To the MOOR, whose cords he cuts with a sword). Thou hast the merit of causing a noble act--fly!
CALCAGNO (enraged). What? Shall that scoundrel live,--he who has betrayed us all?
FIESCO. Live--though he has frightened you all. Rascal, begone! See that thou turn thy back quickly on Genoa; lest some one immolate thee to the manes of his courage.
MOOR. So, then, the devil does not forsake his friends. Your servant, gentlemen! I see that Italy does not produce my halter; I must seek it elsewhere.
[Exit, laughing.
Act IV, Scene X
FIESCO, CONSPIRATORS. Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT. The Countess Imperiali has already asked three times for your grace.
FIESCO. Ha! then the comedy must indeed begin! Tell her I come directly. Desire my wife to hasten to the concert-room, and there remain concealed behind the tapestry. (Exit SERVANT.) In these papers your several stations are appointed: let each but act his part, the plan is perfect. Verrina will lead the forces to the harbor, and when the ships are seized will fire a shot as a signal for the general attack. I now leave you upon important business; when you hear the bell come all together to my concert-room. Meanwhile enjoy my Cyprian wine within. (They depart into the palace.)
Act IV, Scene XI
LEONORA, ARABELLA, and ROSA.
LEONORA. Fiesco promised to meet me here, and comes not. 'Tis past eleven. The sound of arms and men rings frightfully through the palace, and no Fiesco comes.
ROSA. You are to conceal yourself behind the tapestry--what can the count intend?
LEONORA. He directs and I obey. Why should I fear? And yet I tremble, Arabella, and my heart beats fearfully with apprehension. For heaven's sake, damsels, do not leave me.
ARABELLA. Fear nothing; our timidity subdues our curiosity.
LEONORA. Where'er I turn my eyes strange shapes appear with hollow and distracted countenances. Whomsoever I address trembles like a criminal, and withdraws into the thickest gloom of night, that fearful refuge of a guilty conscience. Whate'er they answer falls from the trembling tongue in doubtful accents. Oh, Fiesco! what horrid business dost thou meditate? Ye heavenly powers! watch over my Fiesco!
ROSA (alarmed). Oh, heavens! what noise is that without?
ARABELLA. It is the soldier who stands there as sentinel. (The SENTINEL without calls, "Who goes there?")
LEONORA. Some one approaches. Quick! behind the curtain. (They conceal themselves.)
Act IV, Scene XII
JULIA and FIESCO, in conversation.
JULIA (much agitated). Forbear, count! Your passion meets no longer an indifferent ear, but fires the raging blood--where am I? Naught but seducing night is here! Whither has your artful tongue lured my unguarded heart?
FIESCO. To this spot where timid love grows bold, and where emotions mingle unrestrained.
JULIA. Hold, Fiesco! For Heaven's sake no more! 'Tis the thick veil of night alone which covers the burning blushes on my cheeks, else wouldst thou pity me.
FIESCO. Rather, Julia, thy blushes would inflame my passions, and urge them to their utmost height. (Kisses her hand eagerly.)
JULIA. Thy countenance is glowing as thy words! Ah! and my own, too, burns with guilty fire. Hence, I entreat thee, hence--let us seek the light! The tempting darkness might lead astray the excited senses, and in the absence of the modest day might stir them to rebellion. Haste, I conjure thee, leave this solitude!
FIESCO (more pressing). Why so alarmed, my love? Shall the mistress fear her slave?
JULIA. O man, eternal paradox! then are you truly conquerors, when you bow as captives before our self-conceit. Shall I confess, Fiesco? It was my vice alone that could protect my virtue--my pride alone defied your artifices--thus far, my principles prevailed, and all your arts were foiled--but in despair of every other suit you made appeal to Julia's passion--and here my principles deserted me----
FIESCO (with levity). And what loss was that?
JULIA (with emotion). If I betray the safeguards of my honor, that thou mayest cover me with shame at will, what have I less to lose than all? Wouldst thou know more, scoffer? Shall I confess that the whole secret wisdom of our sex is but a sorry precaution for the defence of this weak fortress, which in the end is the sole object of assault by all your vows and protestations, and which (I blush to own it) is so willingly surrendered--so often betrayed to the enemy upon the first wavering of virtue? That woman's whole art is enlisted in fortifying a defenceless position, just as in chess the pieces move and form a breastwork round the defenceless king?--surprise the latter--check-mate! and the whole board is thrown into confusion. (After a pause--with earnestness), behold the picture of our boasting weakness. Be generous, Fiesco!
FIESCO. And yet, my Julia--where could'st thou bestow this treasure better than on my endless passion?
JULIA. Certainly, nowhere better, and nowhere worse? Tell me, Fiesco, how long will this endless passion endure? But, alas! I've risked too much already now to hesitate at staking my last. I trusted boldly to my charms to captivate thee--to preserve thy love, I fear they'll prove too weak. Fie upon me!--what am I uttering? (Hides her face with her hands.)
FIESCO. Two sins in one breath. Mistrust in my taste, and treason against the sovereignty of your charms? Which of the two is the most difficult to forgive?
JULIA (in a tremulous, imploring tone). Falsehood is the armory of hell! Fiesco needs not this to gain his Julia. (She sinks exhausted on a sofa: after a pause--energetically.) Hear, Fiesco! One word more. When we know our virtue to be in safety, we are heroines; in its defence, no more than children; (fixing her eyes on him wildly)--furies, when we avenge it. Hear me! Should'st thou strike me to the heart with coldness?
FIESCO (assuming an angry tone). Coldness? coldness? Heavens! What does the insatiable vanity of woman look for, if she even doubt the man who lies prostrate at her feet? Ha! my spirit is awakened; my eyes at length are opened. (With an air of coldness.) What was this mighty sacrifice? Man dearly purchases a woman's highest favors by the slightest degradation! (Bowing ceremoniously.) Take courage, madam! you are safe.
JULIA (with astonishment). Count! what sudden change is this?
FIESCO (with great indifference). True, madam! You judge most rightly; we both have risked our honor. (Bowing ceremoniously.) I will await the pleasure of your company among my guests. (Going.)
JULIA (stops him). Stay! art thou mad? Must I, then, declare a passion which the whole race of men, upon their knees, should not extort from my inflexible pride? Alas! in vain the darkness strives to hide the blushes which betray my guilt. Fiesco--I wound the pride of all my sex--my sex will all detest me--Fiesco--I adore thee--(falls at his feet).
FIESCO (steps back without raising her, laughing with exultation). That I am sorry for, signora--(rings the bell--draws the tapestry, and discovers LEONORA). Here is my wife--an angel of a woman! (Embracing her.)
JULIA (with a shriek). Unheard-of treachery!
Act IV, Scene XIII
The CONSPIRATORS, entering in a body--LADIES on the other side--FIESCO, JULIA, and LEONORA.
LEONORA. Oh, my husband, that was too cruel!
FIESCO. A wicked heart deserved no less. I owed this satisfaction to your tears. (To the company.) No,--my friends--I am not wont on every slight occasion to kindle into passion. The follies of mankind amuse me long ere they excite my anger; but this woman merits my whole resentment. Behold the poison which she had mingled for my beloved Leonora. (Shows the poison to the company--they start with horror.)
JULIA (biting her lips with rage). Good! Good! Very good, Sir! (Going.)
FIESCO (leads her back by the arm). You must have patience, madam; something else remains. My friends, perhaps, would gladly learn why I debased my reason with the farce of love for Genoa's silliest coquette.
JULIA (starting up). It is not to be borne. But tremble! Doria rules in Genoa, and I am Doria's sister----
FIESCO. Poor, indeed, if that be your only sting! Know that Fiesco of Lavagna has changed the diadem of your illustrious brother for a halter, and means this night to hang the thief of the republic. (She is struck with terror--he continues with a sarcastic laugh.) Ha! that was unexpected. And do you see, madam, 'twas for this purpose that I tried to blind the eyes of the Dorias. For this I assumed a mock passion-- (pointing to JULIA.) For this I cast away this precious jewel--(pointing to LEONORA); and by shining bait ensnared my prey. I thank you for your complaisance, signora--(to JULIA;) and resign the trappings of my assumed character. (Delivers her the miniature with a bow.)
LEONORA (to FIESCO, in a supplicating tone). She weeps, my Lodovico. May your Leonora, trembling, entreat you?
JULIA (enraged, to LEONORA). Silence, detested woman!
FIESCO (to a SERVANT). Be polite to my friend; escort this lady. She has a mind to see my prison-chamber--take care that none approach to incommode her. The night air is blowing somewhat keenly, the storm which rives the house of Doria may, perchance, ruffle the lady's head-dress.
JULIA. Curses on thee, black, detested hypocrite! (Enraged, to LEONORA.) Rejoice not at thy triumph! He will destroy thee also, and himself--and then despair! (Rushing out!)
FIESCO (to the guests). You were witnesses; let your report in Genoa preserve my honor. (To the CONSPIRATORS.) Call on me as soon as the cannon gives the signal. (All the guests retire.)
Act IV, Scene XIV
LEONORA and FIESCO.
LEONORA (approaching with anxiety). Fiesco! Fiesco! I understand but half your meaning; yet I begin to tremble.
FIESCO (significantly). Leonora! I once saw you yield the place of honor to another. I saw you, in the presence of the nobles, receive the second compliment. Leonora, that sight tormented me. I resolved it should be so no longer. Henceforth it ceases. Do you hear the warlike noise which echoes through my palace? What you suspect is true. Retire to rest, countess, to-morrow you shall awake Duchess of Genoa.
LEONORA (clasping her hands together, and throwing herself into a chair). O God! My very fears! I am undone!
FIESCO (seriously, and with dignity). Let me speak out, my love. Two of my ancestors wore the triple crown. The blood of the Fiescos flows not pure unless beneath the purple. Shall your husband only reflect a borrowed splendor? (In a more energetic manner.) What! shall he owe his rank alone to capricious chance, which, from the ashes of mouldering greatness, has patched together a John Louis Fiesco? No, Leonora, I am too proud to accept from others what my own powers may achieve. This night the hereditary titles of my ancestors shall return to deck their tombs--Lavagna's counts exist no longer--a race of princes shall begin.
LEONORA (mournfully, and giving way to imagination). I see my husband fall, transfixed by deadly wounds. (In a hollow voice.) I see them bear my husband's mangled corpse towards me. (Starting up.) The first--the only ball has pierced Fiesco's heart.
FIESCO (tenderly seizing her hand). Be calm, my love. The only ball will not strike me.
LEONORA (looking steadfastly at him). Does Fiesco so confidently challenge Heaven? If, in the scope of countless possibilities, one chance alone were adverse, that one might happen, and I should lose my husband. Think that thou venturest Heaven, Fiesco; and though a million chances were in thy favor, wouldst thou dare tempt the Almighty by risking on a cast thy hopes of everlasting happiness? No, my husband! When thy whole being is at stake each throw is blasphemy.
FIESCO. Be not alarmed. Fortune and I are better friends.
LEONORA. Ah! say you so, Fiesco? You, who have watched the soul-convulsing game, which some call pastime? Have you not seen the sly deceiver, Fortune, how she leads on her votary with gradual favors, till, heated with success, he rushes headlong and stakes his all upon a single cast? Then in the decisive moment she forsakes him, a victim of his rashness--and stood you then unmoved? Oh, my husband, think not that thou hast but to show thyself among the people to be adored. 'Tis no slight task to rouse republicans from their slumber and turn them loose, like the unbridled steed, just conscious of his hoofs. Trust not those traitors. They among them who are most discerning, even while they instigate thy valor, fear it; the vulgar worship thou with senseless and unprofitable adoration. Whichever way I look Fiesco is undone.
FIESCO (pacing the room in great emotion). To be irresolute is the most certain danger. He that aspires to greatness must be daring.
LEONORA. Greatness, Fiesco! Alas! thy towering spirit ill accords with the fond wishes of my heart. Should fortune favor thy attempt--shouldst thou obtain dominion--alas! I then shall be but the more wretched. Condemned to misery shouldst thou fail--if thou succeed, to misery still greater. Here is no choice but evil. Unless he gain the ducal power, Fiesco perishes--if I embrace the duke I lose my husband.
FIESCO. I understand you not.
LEONORA. Ah! my Fiesco, in the stormy atmosphere that surrounds a throne the tender plant of love must perish. The heart of man, e'en were that heart Fiesco's, is not vast enough for two all-powerful idols--idols so hostile to each other. Love has tears, and can sympathize with tears. Ambition has eyes of stone, from which no drop of tenderness can e'er distil. Love has but one favored object, and is indifferent to all the world beside. Ambition, with insatiable hunger, rages amid the spoil of nature, and changes the immense world into one dark and horrid prison-house. Love paints in every desert an elysium. And when thou wouldest recline upon my bosom, the cares of empires, or rebellious vassals, would fright away repose. If I should throw myself into thy arms, thy despot fears would hear a murderer rushing forth to strike thee, and urge thy trembling flight through all the palace. Nay, black suspicion would at last o'erwhelm domestic concord. If thy Leonora's tenderness should offer thee a refreshing draught, thou wouldst with horror push away the goblet, and call it poison----
FIESCO (starting). Leonora, cease! These thoughts are dreadful.
LEONORA. And yet the picture is not finished. Let love be sacrificed to greatness--and even peace of mind--if Fiesco but remained unchanged. O God! that thought is racking torture. Seldom do angels ascend the throne--still seldomer do they descend it such. Can he know pity who is raised above the common fears of man? Will he speak the accents of compassion who at every wish can launch a bolt of thunder to enforce it. (She stops, then timidly advances, and takes his hand with a look of tender reproach.) Princes, Fiesco--these abortions of ambition and weakness--who presume to sit in judgment 'twixt the godhead and mortality. Wicked servants--worse rulers.
FIESCO (walking about much agitated). Leonora, cease! The bridge is raised behind me----
LEONORA (with a look of tenderness). And why, my husband? Deeds alone are irrevocable. Thou once didst swear (fondly clinging to him, and somewhat archly) that all thy projects vanished before my beauty. Thou hast foresworn thyself, dissembler--or else my charms have prematurely withered. Ask thy own heart where lies the blame? (More ardently, and throwing her arms round him.) Return, Fiesco! Conquer thyself! Renounce! Love shall indemnify thee. O Fiesco, if my heart cannot appease thy insatiate passions, the diadem will be found still poorer. Come, I'll study the inmost wishes of this soul. I will melt into one kiss of love all the charms of nature, to retain forever in these heavenly bonds the illustrious captive. As thy heart is infinite, so shall be my passion. To be a source of happiness to a being who places all its heaven in thee, Fiesco? Ought that to leave any void in thy heart.
FIESCO (with great emotion). Leonora--what hast thou done? (He falls, overcome, on her neck.) I shall never more dare to meet the eyes of Genoa's citizens.
LEONORA (with lively expression). Let us fly, Fiesco! let us with scorn reject these gaudy nothings, and pass our future days only in the retreats of love! (She presses him to her breast with rapture.) Our souls, serene as the unclouded sky, shall never more be blackened by the poisonous breath of sorrow; our lives shall flow harmoniously as the music of the murmuring brook. (A cannon-shot is heard--FIESCO disengages himself--all the conspirators enter.)
Act IV, Scene XV
CONSPIRATORS. The hour is come!
FIESCO (to LEONORA, firmly). Farewell! forever unless Genoa to-morrow be laid prostrate at thy feet. (Going to rush out.)
BOURGOGNINO (cries out). The countess faints! (LEONORA in a swoon--all run to support her.)
FIESCO (kneeling before her, in a tone of despair). Leonora! Save her! For heaven's sake save her! (ROSA and ARABELLA run to her assistance.) She lives--she opens her eyes (jumps up resolutely). Now to close Doria's! (Conspirators rush out.)
Act V
SCENE I.-After midnight. The great street of Genoa. A few lamps, which gradually become extinguished. In the background is seen the Gate of St. Thomas, which is shut. Men pass over the stage with lanterns. The patrol go their round. Afterwards, everything is quiet except the waves of the sea, which are heard at a distance, rather tempestuous.
FIESCO (armed, before the Doria Palace), and ANDREAS.
FIESCO. The old man has kept his word. The lights are all extinguished in the palace--the guards dismissed--I'll ring. (Rings at the gate.) Ho! Halloo! Awake, Doria! Thou art betrayed. Awake! Halloo! Halloo!
ANDREAS (appearing at the balcony). Who rings there?
FIESCO (in a feigned voice). Ask not, but follow me! Duke, thy star has set; Genoa is in arms against thee! Thy executioners are near, and canst thou sleep, Andreas?
ANDREAS (with dignity). I remember when the raging sea contended with my gallant vessel--when her keel cracked and the wind split her topmast. Yet Andreas Doria then slept soundly. Who sends these executioners!
FIESCO. A man more terrible than your raging sea--John Louis Fiesco.
ANDREAS (laughs). You jest, my friend. Come in the daytime to play your tricks. Midnight suits them badly.
FIESCO. Dost thou then despise thy monitor?
ANDREAS. I thank him and retire to rest. Fiesco, wearied with his rioting, sleeps, and has no time to think of Doria.
FIESCO. Wretched old man! Trust not the artful serpent! Its back is decked with beauteous colors; but when you would approach to view it you are suddenly entwined within its deadly folds. You despised the perfidious Moor. Do not despise the counsels of a friend. A horse stands ready saddled for you; fly, while you have time!
ANDREAS. Fiesco has a noble mind. I never injured him, and he will not betray me.
FIESCO. Fiesco has a noble mind and yet betrays thee. He gives thee proof of both.
ANDREAS. There is a guard, which would defy Fiesco's power, unless he led against them legions of spirits.
FIESCO (scornfully). That guard I should be glad to see to despatch it with a message for eternity.
ANDREAS (in an elevated manner). Vain scoffer! Knowest thou not that Andreas has seen his eightieth year, and that Genoa beneath his rule is happy? (Leaves the balcony.)
FIESCO (looks after him with astonishment). Must I then destroy this man before I have learnt how difficult it is to equal him? (He walks up and down some time in meditation). 'Tis past, Andreas. I have repaid the debt of greatness. Destruction take thy course! (He hastens into a remote street. Drums are heard on all sides. A hot engagement at the St. Thomas' Gate. The gate is forced, and opens a prospect in the harbor, in which lie several ships with lights on board.)
Act V, Scene II
GIANETTINO (in a scarlet mantle). LOMELLINO--(Servants going before them with torches).
GIANETTINO (stops). Who was it that commanded the alarm to be beat?
LOMELLINO. A cannon was fired on board one of the galleys.
GIANETTINO. The slaves perhaps have risen in mutiny. (Firing heard at the gate of St. Thomas.)
LOMELLINO. Hark! A shot!
GIANETTINO. The gate is open. The guards are in confusion. (To the servants.) Quick, rascals! Light us to the harbor. (Proceeding hastily towards the gate.)
Act V, Scene III
The former; BOURGOGNINO, with some CONSPIRATORS, coming from the gate of St. Thomas.
BOURGOGNINO. Sebastian Lascaro was a brave soldier.
ZENTURIONE. He defended himself like a bear till he fell.
GIANETTINO (steps back startled). What do I hear? (to his servants). Stop!
BOURGOGNINO. Who goes there with torches?
LOMELLINO (to GIANETTINO). Prince, they are enemies. Turn to the left.
BOURGOGNINO (calls to then peremptorily). Who goes there with the torches?
ZENTURIONE. Stand! Your watchword?
GIANETTINO (draws his sword fiercely). Loyalty and Doria!
BOURGOGNINO (foaming with rage). Violator of the republic and of my bride! (To the CONSPIRATORS, rushing upon GIANETTINO.) Brothers, this shortens our labor. His devils themselves deliver him into our hands-- (runs him through with his sword).
GIANETTINO (falling). Murder! Murder! Murder! Revenge me, Lomellino----
LOMELLINO and SERVANTS (flying). Help! Murder! Murder!
ZENTURIONE (halloing with vehemence). Doria is down. Stop the Count Lomellino! (LOMELLINO is taken).
LOMELLINO (kneeling). Spare but my life, I'll join your party.
BOURGOGNINO (looking at GIANETTINO). Is this monster yet alive? Let the coward fly. (LOMELLINO escapes.)
ZENTURIONE. St. Thomas' gate our own! Gianettino slain! Haste some of you and tell Fiesco.
GIANETTINO (heaving himself from the ground in agony). Fiesco! Damnation! (Dies.)
BOURGOGNINO (pulling the sword out of GIANETTINO'S body). Freedom to Genoa, and to my Bertha. Your sword, Zenturione. Take to my bride this bloody weapon--her dungeon is thrown open. I'll follow thee, and bring the bridal kiss. (They separate through different streets.)
Act V, Scene IV
ANDREAS DORIA, GERMANS.
GERMAN. The storm drove that way. Mount your horse, duke!
ANDREAS. Let me cast a parting look at Genoa's towers! No; it is not a dream. Andreas is betrayed.
GERMAN. The enemy is all around us. Away! Fly! Beyond the boundaries!
ANDREAS (throwing himself upon the dead body of his nephew). Here will I die. Let no one talk of flight. Here lies the prop of my old age--my career is ended. (CALCAGNO appears at a distance, with CONSPIRATORS.)
GERMAN. Danger is near. Fly, prince! (Drums beat.)
ANDREAS. Hark, Germans, bark! These are the Genoese whose chains I broke. (Hiding his face.) Do your countrymen thus recompense their benefactors?
GERMAN. Away! Away! while we stay here, and notch their swords upon our German bones. (CALCAGNO comes nearer.)
ANDREAS. Save yourselves! Leave me! and go, declare the horrid story to the shuddering nations that Genoa slew its father----
GERMAN. Slew! 'Sdeath, that shall not be. Comrades, stand firm! Surround the duke! (They draw their swords.) Teach these Italian dogs to reverence his gray head----
CALCAGNO (calls out). Who goes there? What have we here?
GERMAN. German blows--(retreat fighting, and carry off the body of GIANETTINO.)
Act V, Scene V
LEONORA, in male attire, ARABELLA following-- they walk along timidly.
ARABELLA. Come, my lady, pray let us hasten onward.
LEONORA. This way the tumult rages--hark! was not that a dying groan? Ah, they surround him! At Fiesco's breast they point their fatal muskets--at my breast they point them. Hold! hold! It is my husband! (Throws her arms up in agony.)
ARABELLA. For heaven's sake, my lady!
LEONORA (with wild enthusiasm, calling on all sides). O my Fiesco! my Fiesco! His firmest friends desert him. The faith of rebels is unsteady (shuddering). Rebels! Heaven? Is Fiesco, then, a chief of rebels?
ARABELLA. No, signora. He is the great deliverer of Genoa.
LEONORA (emphatically). Ha! that would indeed be glorious! And shall Leonora tremble?--shall the bravest republican be wedded to the most timid woman? Go, Arabella! When men contend for empires even a woman's soul may kindle into valor. (Drums again heard.) I'll rush among the combatants.
ARABELLA (clasping her hands together). All gracious heaven!
LEONORA. Softly! What strikes my foot? Here is a hat--and here a mantle! A sword, too! (she lifts it up)--a heavy sword, my Arabella; but I can carry it, and the sword shall not disgrace its bearer. (The alarm-bell sounds.)
ARABELLA. Hark! hark! How terrible it sounds yonder, from the tower of the Dominicans! God have mercy on us!
LEONORA (enthusiastically). Rather say, how delightful! In the majestic sound of this alarm-bell my Fiesco speaks to Genoa. (Drums are heard louder.) Ha! did flutes so sweetly strike my ear. Even these drums are animated by Fiesco. My heart beats higher. All Genoa is roused; the very mercenaries follow his name with transport--and shall his wife be fearful? (Alarm-bells from three other towers.) No--my hero shall embrace a heroine. My Brutus clasp within his arms a Roman wife. I'll be his Portia. (Putting on GIANETTINO'S hat and throwing his scarlet mantle round her.)
ARABELLA. My gracious lady, how wildly do you rave. (Alarm-bells and drums are heard.)
LEONORA. Cold-blooded wretch; canst thou see and hear all this, and yet not rave? The very stones are ready to weep that they have not feet to run and join Fiesco. These palaces upbraid the builder, who had laid their foundations so firmly in the earth that they cannot fly to join Fiesco. The very shores, were they able, would forsake their office in order to follow his glorious banner, though by so doing they abandoned Genoa to the mercy of the ocean. What might shake death himself out of his leaden sleep has not power to rouse thy courage? Away! I'll find my way alone.
ARABELLA. Great God! You will not act thus madly?
LEONORA (with heroic haughtiness). Weak girl! I will. (With great animation.) Where the tumult rages the most fiercely. Where Fiesco himself leads on the combat. Methinks I hear them ask, "Is that Lavagna, the unconquered hero, who with his sword decides the fate of Genoa? Is that Lavagna?" Yes, I will say; yes, Genoese, that is Lavagna; and that Lavagna is my husband!
SACCO (entering with CONSPIRATORS). Who goes there--Doria or Fiesco?
LEONORA (with enthusiasm). Fiesco and liberty. (Retires into another street. A tumult, ARABELLA lost in the crowd.)
Act V, Scene VI
SACCO, with a number of followers. CALCAGNO, meeting him with others.
CALCAGNO. Andreas has escaped.
SACCO. Unwelcome tidings to Fiesco.
CALCAGNO. Those Germans fight like furies! They planted themselves around the old man like rocks. I could not even get a glimpse of him. Nine of our men are done for; I myself was slightly wounded. Zounds! If they thus serve a foreign tyrant, how will they guard the princes of their country?
SACCO. Numbers have flocked already to our standard, and all the gates are ours.
CALCAGNO. I hear they still are fighting desperately at the citadel.
SACCO. Bourgognino is amongst them. Where is Verrina?
CALCAGNO. He guards, like Cerberus, the passage between Genoa and the sea--an anchovy could scarcely pass him.
SACCO. I'll rouse the suburbs----
CALCAGNO. I'll away to the market-place. Drummers, strike up! (They march off, drums beating.)
Act V, Scene VII
MOOR. A troop of THIEVES, with lighted matches.
MOOR. Now I'll let you into a secret, my boys; 'twas I that cooked this soup, but the devil a spoonful do they give me. Well, I care not. This hubbub is just to my taste. We'll set about burning and plundering. While they are squabbling for a dukedom we'll make a bonfire in the churches that shall warm the frozen apostles. (They disperse themselves among the neighboring houses.)
Act V, Scene VIII
BOURGOGNINO--BERTHA, disguised as a boy.
BOURGOGNINO. Rest here, dear youth; thou art in safety. Dost thou bleed?
BERTHA (in a feigned voice). No; not at all.
BOURGOGNINO (with energy). Rise, then, I'll lead thee where thou mayst gain wounds for Genoa--wounds beautiful like these. (Uncovering his arm.)
BERTHA (starting). Heavens!
BOURGOGNINO. Art thou frightened, youth? Too early didst thou put on the man. What age hast thou?
BERTHA. Fifteen years.
BOURGOGNINO. That is unfortunate! For this night's business thou art five years too young. Who is thy father?
BERTHA. The truest citizen in Genoa.
BOURGOGNINO. Gently, boy! That name belongs alone to the father of my betrothed bride. Dost thou know the house of Verrina?
BERTHA. I should think so.
BOURGOGNINO (eagerly). And knowest thou his lovely daughter?
BERTHA. Her name is Bertha.
BOURGOGNINO. Go, quickly! Carry her this ring. Say it shall be our wedding-ring; and tell her the blue crest fights bravely. Now farewell! I must hasten yonder. The danger is not yet over. (Some houses are seen on fire.)
BERTHA (in a soft voice). Scipio!
BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). By my sword! I know that voice.
BERTHA (falling upon his neck). By my heart! I am well known here.
BOURGOGNINO. Bertha! (Alarm-bells sound in the suburbs--a tumult-- BOURGOGNINO and BERTHA embrace, and are lost in the crowd.) [NOTE]
[NOTE] In lieu of this scene Schiller substituted the following, during his stay at Leipzig in 1786, for the use of the theatre there:--
A subterranean vault, lighted by a single lamp. The background remains quite dark. BERTHA is discovered sitting on a stone in the foreground; a black veil covers her face. After a pause she rises and walks to and fro.
BERTHA. Still no sound? No sign of human footstep? No approach of my deliverers. Horrible suspense! Fearful and hopeless as that of one buried alive beneath the sod of the churchyard. And for what dost thou sit, poor deceived one? An inviolable oath immures thee in this dungeon. Gianettino Doria must fall, and Genoa be free, or Bertha left to pine away her miserable existence, such was my father's oath. Fearful prison-house to which there is no key but the death-groan of a well-guarded tyrant. (Looking round the vault) How awful is this stillness! terrible as the silence of the grave! How fearfully the darkness creeps from yonder vaults! My lamp, too, is flickering in its socket. (Walking up and down energetically). Oh, come, come, my beloved, 'tis horrible to die here. (A pause--then she starts up and rushes to and fro wringing her hands to deep despair.) He has forsaken me. He has broken his oath. He has forgotten his Bertha. The living think not of the dead, and this vault is my tomb. Hope no more, wretched one. Hope flourishes only where the eye of the Almighty pervades--into this dungeon it never penetrates. (Again a pause; she becomes still more alarmed.)
Or have my deliverers perished? Perchance the bold attempt has failed, the danger has overwhelmed the courageous youth. O unhappy Bertha, perhaps even now their ghosts are wandering through these vaults, and weep over thy vain hopes. (Shuddering.) Heavens! if they are dead I am irrevocably lost, irrevocably abandoned to a horrible death. (Leans against the wall for support. After a pause she continues despondingly.) And if my beloved one still lives--if he should return to keep his word, to fetch his bride away in triumph, and find all here lonely and silent, and the inanimate corpse no longer sensible to his transports--when his burning kisses shall in vain endeavor to restore the life which has fled from these lips, and his tears flow on me hopelessly--when my father shall sink weeping on the body of his daughter, and the voice of his lamentations echo through the regions of my prison-house. Oh, then repeat not to them my complaints, ye walls! Tell them that I suffered like a heroine, and that my last sigh was forgiveness. (Sinks exhausted on the stone--pause--a confused sound of drums and bells is heard from behind the stage in various directions. BERTHA starts to her feet.) Hark! what means this? Am I awake, or do I dream? How dreadfully the bells clang! That is no sound of ringing to prayers. (The noise comes nearer and increases; she rushes to and fro alarmed.) Louder and louder yet! Heavens, they are alarm-bells! they are alarm-bells! Have enemies surprised the city? Is Genoa in flames? A wild and dreadful din, like the trampling of myriads! What's that? (Someone knocks loudly at the door.) They cone this way--they draw the bolts--(rushing towards the background). Men! Men! Liberty! Deliverance! (BOURGOGNINO enters hastily with a drawn sword, followed by several torch-bearers.)
BOURGOGNINO (calling out loudly). Thou art free, Bertha! The tyrant is dead! This sword has passed through his heart.
BERTHA (running into his arms). My deliverer! my angel!
BOURGOGNINO. Dost thou hear the alarm-bells, and the roll of the drums? Fiesco has conquered, Genoa is free, and thy father's curse annihilated.
BERTHA. Oh, heavens! This dreadful uproar, these alarm-bells, then, were for me?
BOURGOGNINO. For thee, Bertha! They are our marriage chimes. Leave this horrid dungeon and follow me to the altar.
BERTHA. To the altar, Bourgognino? Now, at this midnight hour? While this awful tumult is raging as though the whole globe were crushing to atoms! (VERRINA enters unperceived, and remains standing silently at the entrance.)
BOURGOGNINO. In this beautiful, glorious night, in which all Genoa celebrates its freedom, as a bond of love this sword, still dyed with the tyrant's blood, shall be my wedding gear--this hand, still warm from the heroic deed, the priest shall lay in thine. Fear not my love, and follow me to the church. (VERRINA approaches, steps between both, and embraces them.)
VERRINA. God bless you, my children!
BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (falling at his feet). O my father!
VERRINA (lays his hands on them both--a pause--then he turns solemnly to BOURGOGNINO). Never forget how dearly thou hast won her. Never forget that thy marriage dates from the day of Genoa's freedom. (Turning towards BERTHA in a grave and dignified manner.) Thou art the daughter of Verrina, and 'twas thy husband slew the tyrant. (After a pause he beckons them to rise, and says, with suppressed emotion.) The priest awaits you.
BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (together). How, my father? Will you not accompany us thither?
VERRINA (very gravely). A terrible duty calls me elsewhere; my prayers shall accompany you. (Drums and trumpets, intermixed with acclamations, are heard in the distance.) What means this shouting?
BOURGOGNINO. They are proclaiming Fiesco duke. The populace adore him, and with eager acclamations brought him the purple; the nobles looked on with dismay, but dared not refuse their sanction.
VERRINA (laughs bitterly). You see, my son, I must away with speed to be the first to tender the oath of allegiance to the new monarch.
BOURGOGNINO (holds him back alarmed). What is your purpose! I'll go with you.
BERTHA (hanging anxiously on BOURGOGNINO). Heavens! what means this, Bourgognino? What is my father meditating?
VERRINA. My son, I have converted all my possessions into gold, and have conveyed it on board thy ship. Take thy bride and embark without delay. Perhaps I shall soon follow, perhaps never. Hasten to Marseilles, and (embracing them with emotion) God be with you.
BOURGOGNINO (determinedly). Verrina, I must stay; the danger is not yet past.
VERRINA (leading him towards BERTHA). Look to thy bride, thou proud, insatiable one. Thou hast despatched thy tyrant, leave me to deal with mine. [Exeunt.
Act V, Scene IX
FIESCO and ZIBO from different sides. Attendants.
FIESCO (in great anger). Who set fire to those houses?
ZIBO. The citadel is taken.
FIESCO. Who set those houses on fire?
ZIBO (to the attendants). Despatch a guard to apprehend the villains. (Some soldiers go.)
FIESCO. Will they make me an incendiary? Hasten with the engines! (Attendants go.) But are you sure that Gianettino has fallen?
ZIBO. So they say.
FIESCO (wildly). They say so only! Who say? Declare, upon your honor, has he escaped?
ZIBO (doubtfully). If I may trust my eyes against the assertion of a nobleman, then--Gianettino lives.
FIESCO (starting). Zibo, your eyes may cost your head----
ZIBO. 'Tis but eight minutes since I saw him in the crowd dressed in his scarlet cloak and yellow plume.
FIESCO (wildly). Heaven and hell! Zibo! Bourgognino shall answer for it with his head. Hasten, Zibo! secure the barriers. Sink all the boats that he may not escape by sea. This diamond, Zibo--the richest in all Italy--this diamond shall reward the man who brings me tidings of Gianettino's death. (ZIBO hastens away.) Fly, Zibo!
Act V, Scene X
FIESCO, SACCO, the MOOR, SOLDIERS.
SACCO. We found this Moor throwing a lighted match into the convent of the Jesuits.
FIESCO. Thy treachery was overlooked when it concerned myself alone. The halter awaits the incendiary. Take him away and hang him at the church-door.
MOOR. Plague on it! that's an awkward piece of business. Is there no way out of it?
FIESCO. No.
MOOR. Send me awhile to the galleys----
FIESCO (beckoning to the attendants). To the gallows.
MOOR (impudently). Then I'll turn Christian.
FIESCO. The church refuses the dregs of infidelity.
MOOR (in an insinuating manner). At least send me drunk into eternity!
FIESCO. Sober.
MOOR. Don't hang me up, however, beside a Christian church!
FIESCO. A man of honor keeps his word. I promised thee a gallows of thy own.
SACCO. No more prating, heathen! we've business of more consequence.
MOOR. But, stay! Perhaps the rope may break?
FIESCO (to SACCO). Let it be double.
MOOR. Well, if it must be so, the devil may make ready for an extra guest. (Soldiers lead him off, and hang him at a little distance.)
Act V, Scene XI
FIESCO--LEONORA appearing at a distance, in the scarlet cloak of GIANETTINO.
FIESCO (perceiving her, rushes forward--then stops). Do I know that crest and mantle? (Rushes on furiously.) Yes, I know them. (Runs her through with his sword.) If thou hast three lives then rise again. (LEONORA falls with a hollow groan, the march of victory is heard, with drums, horns, and hautboys.)
Act V, Scene XII
FIESCO, CALCAGNO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO: SOLDIERS, with drums and colors.
FIESCO (advancing towards them in triumph). Genoese--the die is cast. Here lies the viper of my soul, the abhorred food of my resentment. Lift high your swords! Gianettino is no more!
CALCAGNO. And I come to inform you that two-thirds of Genoa have declared for our party, and swear obedience to Fiesco's standard.
ZIBO. By me Verrina sends his greeting to you from the admiral's galley, with the dominion of the sea.
ZENTURIONE. By me the governor of the city sends his keys and staff of office.
SACCO. And in me (kneeling) the less and greater senate of the republic kneel down before their master, and supplicate for favor and protection.
CALCAGNO. Let me be the first to welcome the illustrious conquerer within the walls. Bow your colors! Hail, Duke of Genoa!
ALL (taking off their hats). Hail! Hail, Duke of Genoa! (March of triumph--FIESCO stands the whole time with his head sunk upon his breast, in a meditating posture.)
CALCAGNO. The people and the senate wait to see their gracious sovereign invested in the robes of dignity. Great duke, permit us to follow you in triumph to the senate-house.
FIESCO. First allow me to listen to the dictates of my heart. I was obliged to leave a most dear person in anxious apprehension--a person who will share with me the glory of this night. (To the company.) Will you, my friends, attend me to your amiable duchess! (Going.)
CALCAGNO. Shall this murderous villain lie here, and hide his infamy in obscurity?
ZENTURIONE. Plant his head upon a halberd.
ZIBO. Let his mangled carcass sweep the streets! (They hold lights toward the body.)
CALCAGNO (terrified and in a low voice). Look, Genoese! By heavens, this is not the face of Gianettino! (All look at the body.)
FIESCO (fixes his eyes upon it with an eager look, which he withdraws slowly--then, with convulsive wildness, exclaims). No! ye devils! That is not the face of Gianettino--Oh, malicious fiend! Genoa is mine, say you? Mine? (Rushing forward with a dreadful shriek.) Oh, trickery of hell! It is my wife! (He sinks to the ground in agony--The CONSPIRATORS stand around in groups, shuddering--a dead silence.)
FIESCO (raising himself exhausted--in a faint voice). But tell me truly, Genoese, have I indeed slain my wife? I conjure you look not so ghastly upon this illusion! Heaven be praised! there are fates which man has not to fear, because he is but man. This must be one of them. He who is denied the joys of heaven can scarce be doomed to bear the pains of hell. This dread infliction would be even more. God be praised! It must be so. And this is naught but the chimera of a disordered brain.
Act V, Scene XIII
The former--ARABELLA enters weeping.
ARABELLA. Let them kill me! What have I now to dread? Have pity on me, Genoese. 'Twas here I left my dearest mistress, and nowhere can I find her.
FIESCO (approaching her--with a low and trembling voice.) Was Leonora thy mistress?
ARABELLA (with pleasure). Are you there, my most gracious and dear good lord? Be not displeased with us. We could no longer restrain her.
FIESCO (in alarm). Restrain her! Wretch! From what?
ARABELLA. From following----
FIESCO (violently). Ha! From following what?
ARABELLA. The tumult----
FIESCO. What was her dress?
ARABELLA. A Scarlet mantle.
FIESCO (in a transport of rage). Get thee to the abyss of hell! The mantle?
ARABELLA. Lay here upon the ground.
SOME OF THE CONSPIRATORS (talking apart). 'Twas here that Gianettino was killed.
FIESCO (ready to faint, to ARABELLA). Thy mistress is found--(ARABELLA advances anxiously--FIESCO casts his eyes round the whole circle--then, with a faltering voice)--'Tis true--'Tis true--And I am the instrument of this horrid deed. (Madly.) Back! back! ye human forms! Oh! (gnashing his teeth wildly, and looking up toward heaven) had I but this created orb between my teeth--I feel as though I could tear the universe to fragments, till nature's face was hideous as the pain that gnaws my soul! (To the others, that stand around, trembling.) See, how they stand aghast there, miserable creatures! blessing themselves and rejoicing that they are not as I am. I alone feel the blow. (Wildly.) I!--why I? Why not these as well? Why is my sorrow denied the balm of being shared with others?
CALCAGNO (timidly). Most gracious duke!
FIESCO (rushes on hint with a look of fiendlike joy). Ha! Welcome! Here, Heaven be thanked, is one whom the same thunderbolt has struck! (Pressing CALCAGNO furiously in his arms.) Brother of my sorrows! Welcome to your share of destruction! She's dead. Didst thou not also love her? (Forcing him toward the dead body.) Behold her and despair! She's dead. (Fixing his eyes earnestly on one part of the stage.) Oh, that I could stand upon the brink of the infernal gulf, and view below all hell's variety of torments!--could hear the horrid shrieks of damned souls! (Approaching the body, trembling.) Here lies my murdered wife. Nay--that says too little--the wife that I myself have murdered. Oh! 'Tis the cunningest of hell's devices--first I was allured to the topmost pinnacle of joy--to the very threshold of heaven--then--in an instant hurled headlong down--and then--oh that my breath could send a pestilence to hell! And then was made the murderer of my wife--fool that I was to trust two erring eyes? Oh, fiends, this is your masterpiece of torture! (All the CONSPIRATORS lean upon their swords much afflicted--a pause.)
FIESCO (exhausted, and looking mournfully round the circle). Yes, by heavens! They who feared not to draw their swords against their prince are shedding tears! (With dejection.) Speak! Do you weep over this havoc caused by treacherous death, or do you bewail the fall of your leader's spirit? (Turning toward the dead body in an affecting posture.) Where iron-hearted warriors were melted into tears, Fiesco uttered only imprecations of despair. (Kneels down, weeping, by her side.) Pardon me, Leonora--the decrees of heaven are immutable; they yield not to mortal anger. (With a melancholy tenderness.) O Leonora, years ago my fancy painted that triumphant hour when I should present thee to Genoa as her duchess--methought I saw the lovely blush that tinged thy modest cheek--the timid heaving of thy beauteous bosom beneath the snowy gauze-- I heard the gentle murmurs of thy voice, which died away in rapture! (More lively.) Ah, how intoxicating to my soul were the proud acclamations of the people! How did my love rejoice to see its triumph marked in the sinking envy of its rivals! Leonora! The hour which should confirm these hopes is come. Thy Fiesco is Duke of Genoa--and yet the meanest beggar would not exchange his poverty for my greatness and my sufferings. (More affected.) He has a wife to share his troubles--with whom can I share my splendor? (He weeps bitterly, and throws himself on the dead body. Compassion marked upon the countenances of all.)
CALCAGNO. She was, indeed, a most excellent lady.
ZIBO. This event must be concealed from the people. 'Twould damp the ardor of our party and elevate the enemy with hope.
FIESCO (rises, collected and firm). Here me, Genoese! Providence, if rightly I interpret its designs, has struck me with this wound only to try my heart for my approaching greatness. The blow was terrible. Since I have felt it, I fear neither torture nor pleasure. Come! Genoa, you say, awaits me--I will give to Genoa a prince more truly great than Europe ever saw. Away!--for this unhappy princess I will prepare a funeral so splendid that life shall lose its charms, and cold corruption glitter like a bride. Follow your duke!
[Exeunt, with music and colors.
Act V, Scene XIV
ANDREAS, LOMELLINO.
ANDREAS. Yonder they go, with shouts of exultation.
LOMELLINO. They are intoxicated with success. The gates are deserted and all are hastening toward the senate-house.
ANDREAS. It was my nephew only whom Genoa could not brook. My nephew is no more. Hear, Lomellino!
LOMELLINO. What, duke--still--do you still hope?
ANDREAS (sternly). And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with the name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope.
LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale; what counterpoise in yours?
ANDREAS (with dignity and animation). Heaven!
LOMELLINO (shrugging up his shoulders). The times are past, my lord, when armies fought under the guidance of celestial leaders. Since gunpowder was invented angels have ceased to fight.
ANDREAS. Wretch that thou art! Wouldst thou bereave an aged head of its support, its God. (In an earnest and commanding tone.) Go! Make it known throughout Genoa that Andreas Doria is still alive. Say that Andreas entreats the citizens, his children, not to drive him, in his old age, to dwell with foreigners, who ne'er would pardon the exalted state to which he raised his country. Say this--and further say, Andreas begs but so much ground within his fatherland as may contain his bones.
LOMELLINO. I obey; but I despair of success. (Going.)
ANDREAS. Stay; take with thee this snowy lock, and say it was the last upon my head. Say that I plucked it on that night when ungrateful Genoa tore itself from my heart. For fourscore years it hung upon my temples, and now has left my bald head, chilled with the winter of age. The lock is weak, but 'twill suffice to fasten the purple on that young usurper.
[Exit--LOMELLINO hastens into another street--Shouts are heard, with trumpets and drums.
Act V, Scene XV
VERRINA (coming from the harbor), BERTHA, and BOURGOGNINO.
VERRINA. What mean these shouts?
BOURGOGNINO. They proclaim Fiesco duke.
BERTHA (to BOURGOGNINO, timidly). Scipio! My father's looks are dreadful----
VERRINA. Leave me, my children. O Genoa! Genoa!
BOURGOGNINO. The populace adore him, and with transports hailed him as their duke. The nobles looked on with horror, but dared not oppose it.
VERRINA. My son, I have converted all my possessions into gold, and conveyed it on board thy vessel. Take thy wife with thee, and set sail immediately. Perhaps I soon shall follow. Perhaps--never more. Hasten to Marseilles, and--(embracing them mournfully and with energy)--may the Almighty guide you. [Exit hastily.
BERTHA. I beseech thee, say, on what dreadful project does my father brood?
BOURGOGNINO. Didst thou understand thy father?
BERTHA. He bade us fly. Merciful Heaven! Fly on our bridal day!
BOURGOGNINO. He spoke it, and we must obey.
[Exeunt towards the harbor.
Act V, Scene XVI
VERRINA, and FIESCO (in the ducal habit), meeting.
FIESCO. Welcome, Verrina! I was anxious to meet thee.
VERRINA. I also sought Fiesco.
FIESCO. Does Verrina perceive no alteration in his friend?
VERRINA (with reserve). I wish for none.
FIESCO. But do you see none?
VERRINA (without looking at him). I should hope not!
FIESCO. I ask, do you perceive none?
VERRINA (after a slight glance). None!
FIESCO. See, then, how idle is the observation that power makes a tyrant. Since we parted I am become the Duke of Genoa, and yet Verrina (pressing him to his bosom) finds my embrace still glowing as before.
VERRINA. I grieve that I must return it coldly. The sight of majesty falls like a keen-edged weapon, cutting off all affection between the duke and me. To John Louis Fiesco belonged the territory of my heart. Now he has conquered Genoa I resume that poor possession.
FIESCO (with astonishment). Forbid it, Heaven! That price is too enormous even for a dukedom.
VEERINA (muttering). Hum! Is liberty then out of fashion, that republics are so lightly thrown away upon the first that offers himself?
FIESCO (bites his lips). Verrina, say this to no one but Fiesco.
VERRINA. Oh, of course! Great indeed must be that mind which can hear the voice of truth without offence. But alas! the cunning gamester has failed in one single card. He calculated all the chances of envious opposition, but unfortunately overlooked one antagonist--the patriot-- (very significantly). But perhaps the oppressor of liberty has still in store some scheme for banishing patriotic virtue. I swear by the living God that posterity shall sooner collect my mouldering bones from off the wheel than from a sepulchre within that country which is governed by a duke.
FIESCO (taking him tenderly by the hand). Not even when that duke is thy brother? Not if he should make his principality the treasury of that benevolence which was restrained by his domestic poverty? Not even then, Verrina.
VERRINA. No--not even then! We pardon not the robber because he made gifts of his plunder, nor does such generosity suit Verrina. I might permit my fellow-citizens to confer a benefit on me--because I should hope some day to make them an adequate return. That which a prince confers is bounty; but bounty undeserved I would receive alone from God.
FIESCO (angrily). It were as easy to tear Italy from the bosom of the ocean as to shake this stubborn enthusiast from his prejudices.
VERRINA. Well mayst thou talk of tearing: thou hast torn the republic from Doria, as a lamb from the jaws of the wolf, only that thou mightest devour it thyself. But enough of this--just tell me, duke, what crime the poor wretch committed whom you ordered to be hung up at the church of the Jesuits?
FIESCO. The scoundrel set fire to the city.
VERRINA. Yet the scoundrel left the laws untouched.
FIESCO. Verrina presumes upon my friendship.
VERRINA. Away with friendship! I tell thee I no longer love thee. I swear to thee that I hate thee--hate thee like the serpent of Paradise, that first disturbed the happiness of creation, and brought upon mankind unbounded sorrow. Hear me, Fiesco, I speak to thee not as a subject to his master, not as a friend to his friend, but as man to man--(with bitterness and vehemence). Thou hast committed a crime against the majesty of the eternal God in permitting virtue to lead thy hands to wickedness, and in suffering the patriots of Genoa to violate their country. Fiesco, had thy villany deceived me also!--Fiesco, by all the horrors of eternity! with my own hands I would have strangled myself, and on thy head spurted the venom of my departing soul. A princely crime may break the scale of human justice, but thou hast insulted heaven, and the last judgment will decide the cause. (Fiesco remains speechless, looking at him with astonishment.) Do not attempt to answer me. Now we have done. (After walking several times up and down.) Duke of Genoa, in the vessels of yesterday's tyrant, I have seen a miserable race who, at every stroke of their oars, ruminate upon their long-expiated guilt, and weep their tears into the ocean, which, like a rich man, is too proud to count them. A good prince begins his reign with acts of mercy. Wilt thou release the galley-slaves?
FIESCO (sharply). Let them be the first fruits of my tyranny. Go, and announce to them their deliverance.
VERRINA. You will enjoy but half the pleasure unless you see their happiness. Perform this deed thyself. The great are seldom witnesses of the evils which they cause. And shall they, too, do good by stealth and in obscurity? Methinks the duke is not too great to sympathize with a beggar.
FIESCO. Man, thou art dreadful; yet I know not why I must follow thee. (Both go toward the sea.)
VERRINA (stops, much affected). But once more embrace me, Fiesco. Here is no one by to see Verrina weep, or to behold a prince give way to feeling--(he embraces him eagerly). Surely never beat two greater hearts together--we loved each other so fraternally--(weeping violently on Fiasco's neck). Fiesco! Fiesco! Thou makest a void in my bosom which all mankind, thrice numbered, could not fill up.
FIESCO (much affected). Be still, my friend.
VERRINA. Throw off this hateful purple, and I will be so. The first prince was a murderer, and assumed the purple to hide the bloody stains of his detested deeds. Hear me, Fiesco! I am a warrior, little used to weeping--Fiesco--these are my first tears--throw off this purple!
FIESCO. Peace.
VERRINA (more vehemently). Fiesco, place on the one side all the honors of this great globe, on the other all its tortures; they should not make me kneel before a mortal--Fiesco (falling on his knee), this is the first bending of my knee--throw off this purple!
FIESCO. Rise, and no longer irritate me!
VERRINA (in a determined tone). I rise then, and will no longer irritate thee. (They stand on a board leading to a galley.) The prince must take precedence.
FIESCO. Why do you pull my cloak? It falls----
VERRINA (with bitter irony). If the purple falls the duke must after it. (He pushes him into the sea.)
FIESCO (calls out of the waves). Help, Genoa! Help! Help thy duke! (Sinks.)
Act V, Scene XVII
CALCAGNO, SACCO, ZIBO, ZENTURIONE, Conspirators, People.
CALCAGNO (crying out). Fiesco! Fiesco! Andreas is returned--half Genoa joins Andreas. Where is Fiesco?
VERRINA (in a firm tone). Drowning.
ZENTURIONE. Does hell or madness prompt thy answer?
VERRINA. Drowned--if that sound better. I go to join Andreas.
(The CONSPIRATORS stand in groups, astonished. The curtain falls.)
LOVE AND INTRIGUE.
A TRAGEDY.
By Frederich Schiller
Dramatis Personae
PRESIDENT VON WALTER, Prime Minister in the Court of a German Prince. FERDINAND, his son; a Major in the Army; in love with Louisa Miller. BARON VON KALB, Court Marshal (or Chamberlain). WORM, Private Secretary to the President. MILLER, the Town Musician, and Teacher of Music. MRS. MILLER, his wife. LOUISA, the daughter of Miller, in love with Ferdinand. LADY MILFORD, the Prince's Mistress. SOPHY, attendant on Lady Milford. An old Valet in the service of the Prince. Officers, Attendants, etc.
Act I, Scene I
MILLER--MRS. MILLER.
MILLER (walking quickly up and down the room). Once for all! The affair is becoming serious. My daughter and the baron will soon be the town-talk--my house lose its character--the president will get wind of it, and--the short and long of the matter is, I'll show the younker the door.
MRS MILLER. You did not entice him to your house--did not thrust your daughter upon him!
MILLER. Didn't entice him to my house--didn't thrust the girl upon him! Who'll believe me? I was master of my own house. I ought to have taken more care of my daughter. I should have bundled the major out at once, or have gone straight to his excellency, his papa, and disclosed all. The young baron will get off merely with a snubbing, I know that well enough, and all the blame will fall upon the fiddler.
MRS MILLER (sipping her coffee). Pooh! nonsense! How can it fall upon you? What have people to do with you? You follow your profession, and pick up pupils wherever you can find them.
MILLER. All very fine, but please to tell me what will be the upshot of the whole affair? He can't marry the girl--marriage is out of the question, and to make her his--God help us! "Good-by t'ye!" No, no--when such a sprig of nobility has been nibbling here and there and everywhere, and has glutted himself with the devil knows what all, of course it will be a relish to my young gentleman to get a mouthful of sweet water. Take heed! Take heed! If you were dotted with eyes, and could place a sentinel for every hair of your head, he'll bamboozle her under your very nose; add one to her reckoning, take himself off, and the girl's ruined for life, left in the lurch, or, having once tasted the trade, will carry it on. (Striking his forehead.) Oh, horrible thought!
MRS MILLER. God in his mercy protect us!
MILLER. We shall want his protection. You may well say that. What other object can such a scapegrace have? The girl is handsome--well made--can show a pretty foot. How the upper story is furnished matters little. That's blinked in you women if nature has not played the niggard in other respects. Let this harum-scarum but turn over this chapter--ho! ho! his eyes will glisten like Rodney's when he got scent of a French frigate; then up with all sail and at her, and I don't blame him for it-- flesh is flesh. I know that very well.
MRS MILLER. You should only read the beautiful billy-doux which the baron writes to your daughter. Gracious me! Why it's as clear as the sun at noonday that he loves her purely for her virtuous soul.
MILLER. That's the right strain! We beat the sack, but mean the ass's back. He who wishes to pay his respects to the flesh needs only a kind heart for a go-between. What did I myself? When we've once so far cleared the ground that the affections cry ready! slap! the bodies follow their example, the appetites are obedient, and the silver moon kindly plays the pimp.
MRS MILLER. And then only think of the beautiful books that the major has sent us. Your daughter always prays out of them.
MILLER (whistles). Prays! You've hit the mark. The plain, simple food of nature is much too raw and indigestible for this maccaroni gentleman's stomach. It must be cooked for him artificially in the infernal pestilential pitcher of your novel-writers. Into the fire with the rubbish! I shall have the girl taking up with--God knows what all--about heavenly fooleries that will get into her blood, like Spanish flies, and scatter to the winds the handful of Christianity that cost her father so much trouble to keep together. Into the fire with them I say! The girl will take the devil's own nonsense into her head; amidst the dreams of her fool's paradise she'll not know her own home, but forget and feel ashamed of her father, the music-master; and, lastly, I shall lose a worthy, honest son-in-law who might have nestled himself so snugly into my connections. No! damn it! (Jumps up in a passion.) I'll break the neck of it at once, and the major--yes, yes, the major! shall be shown where the carpenter made the door. (Going.)
MRS MILLER. Be civil, Miller! How many a bright shilling have his presents----
MILLER (comes back, and goes up to her). The blood money of my daughter? To Beelzebub with thee, thou infamous bawd! Sooner will I vagabondize with my violin and fiddle for a bit of bread--sooner will I break to pieces my instrument and carry dung on the sounding-board than taste a mouthful earned by my only child at the price of her soul and future happiness. Give up your cursed coffee and snuff-taking, and there will be no need to carry your daughter's face to market. I have always had my bellyful and a good shirt to my back before this confounded scamp put his nose into my crib.
MRS MILLER. Now don't be so ready to pitch the house out of window. How you flare up all of a sudden. I only meant to say that we shouldn't offend the major, because he is the son of the president.
MILLER. There lies the root of the mischief. For that reason--for that very reason the thing must be put a stop to this very day! The president, if he is a just and upright father, will give me his thanks. You must brush up my red plush, and I will go straight to his excellency. I shall say to him,--"Your excellency's son has an eye to my daughter; my daughter is not good enough to be your excellency's son's wife, but too good to be your excellency's son's strumpet, and there's an end of the matter. My name is Miller."
Act I, Scene II
Enter SECRETARY WORM.
MRS MILLER. Ah! Good morning, Mr. Seckertary! Have we indeed the pleasure of seeing you again?
WORM. All on my side--on my side, cousin Miller! Where a high-born cavalier's visits are received mine can be of no account whatever.
MRS MILLER. How can you think so, Mr. Seckertary? His lordship the baron, Major Ferdinand, certainly does us the honor to look in now and then; but, for all that, we don't undervalue others.
MILLER (vexed). A chair, wife, for the gentleman! Be seated, kinsman.
WORM (lays aside hat and stick, and seats himself). Well, well--and how then is my future--or past--bride? I hope she'll not be--may I not have the honor of seeing--Miss Louisa?
MRS MILLER. Thanks for inquiries, Mr. Seckertary, but my daughter is not at all proud.
MILLER (angry, jogs her with his elbow). Woman!
MRS MILLER. Sorry she can't have that honor, Mr. Seckertary. My daughter is now at mass.
WORM. I am glad to hear it,--glad to hear it. I shall have in her a pious, Christian wife!
MRS MILLER (smiling in a stupidly affected manner). Yes--but, Mr. Seckertary----
MILLER (greatly incensed, pulls her ears). Woman!
MRS MILLER. If our family can serve you in any other way--with the greatest pleasure, Mr. Seckertary----
WORM (frowning angrily). In any other way? Much obliged! much obliged!--hm! hm! hm!
MRS MILLER. But, as you yourself must see, Mr. Seckertary----
MILLER (in a rage, shaking his fist at her). Woman!
MRS MILLER. Good is good, and better is better, and one does not like to stand between fortune and one's only child (with vulgar pride). You understand me, Mr. Seckertary?
WORM. Understand. Not exac---. Oh, yes. But what do you really mean?
MRS MILLER. Why--why--I only think--I mean--(coughs). Since then Providence has determined to make a great lady of my daughter----
WORM (jumping from his chair). What's that you say? what?
MILLER. Keep your seat, keep your seat, Mr. Secretary! The woman's an out-and-out fool! Where's the great lady to come from? How you show your donkey's ears by talking such stuff.
MRS MILLER. Scold as long as you will. I know what I know, and what the major said he said.
MILLER (snatches up his fiddle in anger). Will you hold your tongue? Shall I throw my fiddle at your head? What can you know? What can he have said? Take no notice of her clack, kinsman! Away with you to your kitchen! You'll not think me first cousin of a fool, and that I'm looking out so high for the girl? You'll not think that of me, Mr. Secretary?
WORM. Nor have I deserved it of you, Mr. Miller! You have always shown yourself a man of your word, and my contract to your daughter was as good as signed. I hold an office that will maintain a thrifty manager; the president befriends me; the door to advancement is open to me whenever I may choose to take advantage of it. You see that my intentions towards Miss Louisa are serious; if you have been won over by a fop of rank----
MRS MILLER. Mr. Seckertary! more respect, I beg----
MILLER. Hold your tongue, I say. Never mind her, kinsman. Things remain as they were. The answer I gave you last harvest, I repeat to-day. I'll not force my daughter. If you suit her, well and good; then it's for her to see that she can be happy with you. If she shakes her head--still better--be it so, I should say--then you must be content to pocket the refusal, and part in good fellowship over a bottle with her father. 'Tis the girl who is to live with you--not I. Why should I, out of sheer caprice, fasten a husband upon the girl for whom she has no inclination? That the evil one may haunt me down like a wild beast in my old age--that in every drop I drink--in every bit of bread I bite, I might swallow the bitter reproach: Thou art the villain who destroyed his child's happiness!
MRS MILLER. The short and the long of it is--I refuse my consent downright; my daughter's intended for a lofty station, and I'll go to law if my husband is going to be talked over.
MILLER. Shall I break every bone in your body, you millclack?
WORM (to MILLER). Paternal advice goes a great way with the daughter, and I hope you know me, Mr. Miller?
MILLER. Plague take you! 'Tis the girl must know you. What an old crabstick like me can see in you is just the very last thing that a dainty young girl wants. I'll tell you to a hair if you're the man for an orchestra--but a woman's heart is far too deep for a music-master. And then, to be frank with you--you know that I'm a blunt, straightforward fellow--you'll not give thank'ye for my advice. I'll persuade my daughter to no one--but from you Mr. Sec--I would dissuade her! A lover who calls upon the father for help--with permission--is not worth a pinch of snuff. If he has anything in him, he'll be ashamed to take that old-fashioned way of making his deserts known to his sweetheart. If he hasn't the courage, why he's a milksop, and no Louisas were born for the like of him. No! he must carry on his commerce with the daughter behind the father's back. He must manage so to win her heart, that she would rather wish both father and mother at Old Harry than give him up--or that she come herself, fall at her father's feet, and implore either for death on the rack, or the only one of her heart. That's the fellow for me! that I call love! and he who can't bring matters to that pitch with a petticoat may--stick the goose feather in his cap.
WORM (seizes hat and stick and hurries out of the room). Much obliged, Mr. Miller!
MILLER (going after him slowly). For what? for what? You haven't taken anything, Mr. Secretary! (Comes back.) He won't hear, and off he's gone. The very sight of that quill-driver is like poison and brimstone to me. An ugly, contraband knave, smuggled into the world by some lewd prank of the devil--with his malicious little pig's eyes, foxy hair, and nut-cracker chin, just as if Nature, enraged at such a bungled piece of goods, had seized the ugly monster by it, and flung him aside. No! rather than throw away my daughter on a vagabond like him, she may--God forgive me!
MRS MILLER. The wretch!--but you'll be made to keep a clean tongue in your head!
MILLER. Ay, and you too, with your pestilential baron--you, too, must put my bristles up. You're never more stupid than when you have the most occasion to show a little sense. What's the meaning of all that trash about your daughter being a great lady? If it's to be cried out about the town to-morrow, you need only let that fellow get scent of it. He is one of your worthies who go sniffing about into people's houses, dispute upon everything, and, if a slip of the tongue happen to you, skurry with it straight to the prince, mistress, and minister, and then there's the devil to pay.
Act I, Scene III
Enter LOUISA with a book in her hand.
LOUISA. Good morning, dear father!
MILLER (affectionately). Bless thee, my Louisa! I rejoice to see thy thoughts are turned so diligently to thy Creator. Continue so, and his arm will support thee.
LOUISA. Oh! I am a great sinner, father! Was he not here, mother?
MRS MILLER. Who, my child?
LOUISA. Ah! I forgot that there are others in the world besides him--my head wanders so. Was he not here? Ferdinand?
MILLER (with melancholy, serious voice). I thought my Louisa had forgotten that name in her devotions?
LOUISA (after looking at him steadfastly for some time). I understand you, father. I feel the knife which stabs my conscience; but it comes too late. I can no longer pray, father. Heaven and Ferdinand divide my bleeding soul, and I fear--I fear--(after a pause). Yet no, no, good father. The painter is best praised when we forget him in the contemplation of his picture. When in the contemplation of his masterpiece, my delight makes me forget the Creator,--is not that, father, the true praise of God?
MILLER (throws himself in displeasure on a chair). There we have it! Those are the fruits of your ungodly reading.
LOUISA (uneasy, goes to the window). Where can he be now? Ah! the high-born ladies who see him--listen to him----I am a poor forgotten maiden. (Startles at that word, and rushes to her father.) But no, no! forgive me. I do not repine at my lot. I ask but little--to think on him--that can harm no one. Ah! that I might breathe out this little spark of life in one soft fondling zephyr to cool his check! That this fragile floweret, youth, were a violet, on which he might tread, and I die modestly beneath his feet! I ask no more, father! Can the proud, majestic day-star punish the gnat for basking in its rays?
MILLER (deeply affected, leans on the arm of his chair, and covers his face). My child, my child, with joy would I sacrifice the remnant of my days hadst thou never seen the major.
LOUISA (terrified.) How; how? What did you say? No, no! that could not be your meaning, good father. You know not that Ferdinand is mine! You know not that God created him for me, and for my delight alone! (After a pause of recollection.) The first moment that I beheld him--and the blood rushed into my glowing cheeks--every pulse beat with joy; every throb told me, every breath whispered, "'Tis he!" And my heart, recognizing the long-desired one, repeated "'Tis he!" And the whole world was as one melodious echo of my delight! Then--oh! then was the first dawning of my soul! A thousand new sentiments arose in my bosom, as flowers arise from the earth when spring approaches. I forgot there was a world, yet never had I felt that world so dear to me! I forgot there was a God, yet never had I so loved him!
MILLER (runs to her and clasps her to his bosom). Louisa! my beloved, my admirable child! Do what thou wilt. Take all--all--my life--the baron-- God is my witness--him I can never give thee! [Exit.
LOUISA. Nor would I have him now, father! Time on earth is but a stinted dewdrop in the ocean of eternity. 'Twill swiftly glide in one delicious dream of Ferdinand. I renounce him for this life! But then, mother--then when the bounds of separation are removed--when the hated distinctions of rank no longer part us--when men will be only men--I shall bring nothing with me save my innocence! Yet often has my father told me that at the Almighty's coming riches and titles will be worthless; and that hearts alone will be beyond all price. Oh! then shall I be rich! There, tears will be reckoned for triumphs, and purity of soul be preferred to an illustrious ancestry. Then, then, mother, shall I be noble! In what will he then be superior to the girl of his heart?
MRS. MILLER (starts from her seat). Louisa! the baron! He is jumping over the fence! Where shall I hide myself?
LOUISA (begins to tremble). Oh! do not leave me, mother!
MRS MILLER. Mercy! What a figure I am. I am quite ashamed! I cannot let his lordship see me in this state!
[Exit.
Act I, Scene IV
LOUISA--FERDINAND. (He flies towards her--she falls back into her chair, pale and trembling. He remains standing before her--they look at each other for some moments in silence. A pause.)
FERDINAND. So pale, Louisa?
LOUISA (rising, and embracing him). It is nothing--nothing now that you are here--it is over.
FERDINAND (takes her hand and raises it to his lips). And does my Louisa still love me? My heart is yesterday's; is thine the same? I flew hither to see if thou wert happy, that I might return and be so too. But I find thee whelmed in sorrow!
LOUISA. Not so, my beloved, not so!
FERDINAND. Confess, Louisa! you are not happy. I see through your soul as clearly as through the transparent lustre of this brilliant. No spot can harbor here unmarked by me--no thought can cloud your brow that does not reach your lover's heart. Whence comes this grief? Tell me, I beseech you! Ah! could I feel assured this mirror still remained unsullied, there'd seem to me no cloud in all the universe! Tell me, dear Louisa, what afflicts you?
LOUISA (looking at him with anxiety for a few moments). Ferdinand! couldst thou but know how such discourse exalts the tradesman's daughter----
FERDINAND (surprised). What say'st thou? Tell me, girl! how camest thou by that thought? Thou art my Louisa! who told thee thou couldst be aught else? See, false one, see, for what coldness I must chide thee! Were indeed thy whole soul absorbed by love for me, never hadst thou found time to draw comparisons! When I am with thee, my prudence is lost in one look from thine eyes: when I am absent in a dream of thee! But thou --thou canst harbor prudence in the sane breast with love! Fie on thee! Every moment bestowed on this sorrow was a robbery from affection and from me!
LOUISA (pressing his hand and shaking her head with a melancholy air). Ferdinand, you would lull my apprehensions to sleep; you would divert my eyes from the precipice into which I am falling. I can see the future! The voice of honor--your prospects, your father's anger--my nothingness. (Shuddering and suddenly drops his hands.) Ferdinand! a sword hangs over us! They would separate us!
FERDINAND (jumps up). Separate us! Whence these apprehensions, Louisa? Who can rend the bonds that bind two hearts, or separate the tones of one accord? True, I am a nobleman--but show me that my patent of nobility is older than the eternal laws of the universe--or my escutcheon more valid than the handwriting of heaven in my Louisa's eyes? "This woman is for this man?" I am son of the prime minister. For that very reason, what but love can soften the curses which my father's extortions from the country will entail upon me?
LOUISA. Oh! how I fear that father!
FERDINAND. I fear nothing--nothing but that your affection should know bounds. Let obstacles rise between us, huge as mountains, I will look upon them as a ladder by which to fly into the arms of my Louisa! The tempest of opposing fate shall but fan the flame of my affection dangers will only serve to make Louisa yet more charming. Then speak no more of terrors, my love! I myself--I will watch over thee carefully as the enchanter's dragon watches over buried gold. Trust thyself to me! thou shalt need no other angel. I will throw myself between thee and fate-- for thee receive each wound. For thee will I catch each drop distilled from the cup of joy, and bring thee in the bowl of love. (Embracing affectionately.) This arm shall support my Louisa through life. Fairer than it dismissed thee, shall heaven receive thee back, and confess with delight that love alone can give perfection to the soul.
LOUISA (disengaging herself from him, greatly agitated). No more! I beseech thee, Ferdinand! no more! Couldst thou know. Oh! leave me, leave me! Little dost thou feel how these hopes rend my heart in pieces like fiends! (Going.)
FERDINAND (detaining her). Stay, Louisa! stay! Why this agitation? Why those anxious looks?
LOUISA. I had forgotten these dreams, and was happy. Now--now--from this day is the tranquillity of my heart no more. Wild impetuous wishes will torment my bosom! Go! God forgive thee! Thou hast hurled a firebrand into my young peaceful heart which nothing can extinguish! (She breaks from him, and rushes from the apartment, followed by FERDINAND.)
Act I, Scene V — A Chamber in the PRESIDENT.'S House
The PRESIDENT, with the grand order of the cross about his neck, and a star at his breast--SECRETARY WORM.
PRESIDENT. A serious attachment, say you? No, no, Worm; that I never can believe.
WORM. If your excellency pleases, I will bring proofs of my assertions.
PRESIDENT. That he has a fancy for the wench--flatters her--and, if you will, pretends to love her--all this is very possible--nay--excusable --but--and the daughter of a musician, you say?
WORM. Of Miller, the music-master.
PRESIDENT. Handsome? But that, of course.
WORM (with warmth). A most captivating and lovely blondine, who, without saying too much, might figure advantageously beside the greatest beauties of the court.
PRESIDENT (laughs). It's very plain, Worm, that you have an eye upon the jade yourself--I see that. But listen, Worm. That my son has a passion for the fair sex gives me hope that he will find favor with the ladies. He may make his way at court. The girl is handsome, you say; I am glad to think my son has taste. Can he deceive the silly wench by holding out honorable intentions--still better; it will show that he is shrewd enough to play the hypocrite when it serves his purpose. He may become prime minister--if he accomplishes his purpose! Admirable! that will prove to me that fortune favors him. Should the farce end with a chubby grandchild--incomparable! I will drink an extra bottle of Malaga to the prospects of my pedigree, and cheerfully pay the wench's lying-in expenses.
WORM. All I wish is that your excellency may not have to drink that bottle to drown your sorrow.
PRESIDENT (sternly). Worm! remember that what I once believe, I believe obstinately--that I am furious when angered. I am willing to pass over as a joke this attempt to stir my blood. That you are desirous of getting rid of your rival, I can very well comprehend, and that, because you might have some difficulty in supplanting the son, you endeavor to make a cat's-paw of the father, I can also understand--I am even delighted to find that you are master of such excellent qualifications in the way of roguery. Only, friend Worm, pray don't make me, too, the butt of your knavery. Understand me, have a care that your cunning trench not upon my plans!
WORM. Pardon me, your excellency! If even--as you suspect--jealousy is concerned, it is only with the eye, and not with the tongue.
PRESIDENT. It would be better to dispense with it altogether. What can it matter to you, simpleton, whether you get your coin fresh from the mint, or it comes through a banker? Console yourself with the example of our nobility. Whether known to the bridegroom or not, I can assure you that, amongst us of rank, scarcely a marriage takes place but what at least half a dozen of the guests--or the footmen--can state the geometrical area of the bridegroom's paradise.
WORM (bowing). My lord! Upon this head I confess myself a plebeian.
PRESIDENT. And, besides, you may soon have the satisfaction of turning the laugh most handsomely against your rival. At this very moment it is under consideration in the cabinet, that, upon the arrival of the new duchess, Lady Milford shall apparently be discarded, and, to complete the deception, form an alliance. You know, Worm, how greatly my influence depends upon this lady--how my mightiest prospects hang upon the passions of the prince. The duke is now seeking a partner for Lady Milford. Some one else may step in--conclude the bargain for her ladyship, win the confidence of the prince, and make himself indispensable, to my cost. Now, to retain the prince in the meshes of my family, I have resolved that my Ferdinand shall marry Lady Milford. Is that clear to you?
WORM. Quite dazzling! Your excellency has at least convinced me that, compared with the president, the father is but a novice. Should the major prove as obedient a son as you show yourself a tender father, your demand may chance to be returned with a protest.
PRESIDENT. Fortunately I have never yet had to fear opposition to my will when once I have pronounced, "It shall be so!" But now, Worm, that brings us back to our former subject! I will propose Lady Milford to my son this very day. The face which he puts upon it shall either confirm your suspicions or entirely confute them.
WORM. Pardon me, my lord! The sullen face which he most assuredly will put upon it may be placed equally to the account of the bride you offer to him as of her from whom you wish to separate him. I would beg of you a more positive test! Propose to him some perfectly unexceptionable woman. Then, if he consents, let Secretary Worm break stones on the highway for the next three years.
PRESIDENT (biting his lips). The devil!
WORM. Such is the case, you may rest assured! The mother--stupidity itself--has, in her simplicity, betrayed all to me.
PRESIDENT (pacing the room, and trying to repress his rage). Good! this very morning, then!
WORM. Yet, let me entreat your excellency not to forget that the major-- is my master's son----
PRESIDENT. No harm shall come to him, Worm.
WORM. And that my service in ridding you of an unwelcome daughter-in-law----
PRESIDENT. Should be rewarded by me helping you to a wife? That too, Worm!
WORM (bowing with delight). Eternally your lordship's slave. (Going.)
PRESIDENT (threatening him). As to what I have confided to you, Worm! If you dare but to whisper a syllable----
WORM (laughs). Then your excellency will no doubt expose my forgeries!
[Exit.
PRESIDENT. Yes, yes, you are safe enough! I hold you in the fetters of your own knavery, like a trout on the hook!
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT. Marshal Kalb----
PRESIDENT. The very man I wished to see. Introduce him.
[Exit SERVANT.
Act I, Scene VI
MARSHAL KALB, in a rich but tasteless court-dress, with Chamberlain's keys, two watches, sword, three-cornered hat, and hair dressed a la Herisson. He bustles up to the PRESIDENT, and diffuses a strong scent of musk through the whole theatre--PRESIDENT.
MARSHAL. Ah! good morning, my dear baron! Quite delighted to see you again--pray forgive my not having paid my respects to you at an earlier hour--the most pressing business--the duke's bill of fare--invitation cards--arrangements for the sledge party to-day--ah!--besides it was necessary for me to be at the levee, to inform his highness of the state of the weather.
PRESIDENT. True, marshal! Such weighty concerns were not to be neglected!
MARSHAL. Then a rascally tailor, too, kept me waiting for him!
PRESIDENT. And yet ready to the moment?
MARSHAL. Nor is that all! One misfortune follows at the heels of the other to-day! Only hear me!
PRESIDENT (absent). Can it be possible?
MARSHAL. Just listen! Scarce had I quitted my carriage, when the horses became restive, and began to plunge and rear--only imagine!--splashed my breeches all over with mud! What was to be done? Fancy, my dear baron, just fancy yourself for a moment in my predicament! There I stood! the hour was late! a day's journey to return--yet to appear before his highness in this--good heavens! What did I bethink me of? I pretended to faint! They bundle me into my carriage! I drive home like mad-- change my dress--hasten back--and only think!--in spite of all this I was the first person in the antechamber! What say you to that?
PRESIDENT. A most admirable impromptu of mortal wit--but tell me, Kalb, did you speak to the duke?
MARSHAL (importantly). Full twenty minutes and a half.
PRESIDENT. Indeed? Then doubtless you have important news to impart to me?
MARSHAL (seriously, after a pause of reflection). His highness wears a Merde d'Oye beaver to-day.
PRESIDENT. God bless me!--and yet, marshal, I have even greater news to tell you. Lady Milford will soon become my daughter-in-law. That, I think will be new to you?
MARSHAL. Is it possible! And is it already agreed upon?
PRESIDENT. It is settled, marshal--and you would oblige me by forthwith waiting upon her ladyship, and preparing her to receive Ferdinand's visit. You have full liberty, also, to circulate the news of my son's approaching nuptials.
MARSHAL. My dear friend! With consummate pleasure! What can I desire more? I fly to the baroness this moment. Adieu! (Embracing him.) In less than three-quarters of an hour it shall be known throughout the town. [Skips off.
PRESIDENT (smiling contemptuously). How can people say that such creatures are of no use in the world? Now, then, Master Ferdinand must either consent or give the whole town the lie. (Rings--WORM enters.) Send my son hither. (WORM retires; the PRESIDENT walks up and down, full of thought.)
Act I, Scene VII
PRESIDENT--FERDINAND.
FERDINAND. In obedience to your commands, sir----
PRESIDENT. Ay, if I desire the presence of my son, I must command it-- Ferdinand, I have observed you for some time past, and find no longer that open vivacity of youth which once so delighted me. An unusual sorrow broods upon your features; you shun your father; you shun society. For shame, Ferdinand! At your age a thousand irregularities are easier forgiven than one instant of idle melancholy. Leave this to me, my son! Leave the care of your future happiness to my direction, and study only to co-operate with my designs--come, Ferdinand, embrace me!
FERDINAND. You are most gracious to-day, father!
PRESIDENT. "To-day," you rogue? and your "to-day" with such a vinegar look? (Seriously.) Ferdinand! For whose sake have I trod that dangerous path which leads to the affections of the prince? For whose sake have I forever destroyed my peace with Heaven and my conscience? Hear me, Ferdinand--I am speaking to my son. For whom have I paved the way by the removal of my predecessor? a deed which the more deeply gores my inward feelings the more carefully I conceal the dagger from the world! Tell me, Ferdinand, for whose sake have I done all this?
FERDINAND (recoiling with horror). Surely not for mine, father, not for mine? Surely not on me can fall the bloody reflection of this murder? By my Almighty Maker, it were better never to have been born than to be the pretext for such a crime!
PRESIDENT. What sayest thou? How? But I will attribute these strange notions to thy romantic brain, Ferdinand; let me not lose my temper-- ungrateful boy! Thus dost thou repay me for my sleepless nights? Thus for my restless anxiety to promote thy good? Thus for the never-dying scorpion of my conscience? Upon me must fall the burden of responsibility; upon me the curse, the thunderbolt of the Judge. Thou receivest thy fortune from another's hand--the crime is not attached to the inheritance.
FERDINAND (extending his right hand towards heaven). Here I solemnly abjure an inheritance which must ever remind me of a parent's guilt!
PRESIDENT. Hear me, sirrah! and do not incense me! Were you left to your own direction you would crawl through life in the dust.
FERDINAND. Oh! better, father, far, far better, than to crawl about a throne!
PRESIDENT (repressing his anger). So! Then compulsion must make you sensible of your good fortune! To that point, which, with the utmost striving a thousand others fail to reach, you have been exalted in your very sleep. At twelve you received a commission; at twenty a command. I have succeeded in obtaining for you the duke's patronage. He bids you lay aside your uniform, and share with me his favor and his confidence. He spoke of titles--embassies--of honors bestowed but upon few. A glorious prospect spreads itself before you! The direct path to the place next the throne lies open to you! Nay, to the throne itself, if the actual power of ruling is equivalent to the mere symbol. Does not that idea awaken your ambition?
FERDINAND. No! My ideas of greatness and happiness differ widely from yours. Your happiness is but seldom known, except by the misery of others. Envy, terror, hatred are the melancholy mirrors in which the smiles of princes are reflected. Tears, curses, and the wailings of despair, the horrid banquet that feasts your supposed elect of fortune; intoxicated with these they rush headlong into eternity, staggering to the throne of judgment. My ideas of happiness teach me to look for its fountain in myself! All my wishes lie centered in my heart!
PRESIDENT. Masterly! Inimitable! Admirable! The first schooling I have received these thirty years! Pity that the brain at fifty should be so dull at learning! But--that such talent may not rust, I will place one by your side on whom you can practise your harlequinade follies at pleasure. You will resolve--resolve this very day--to take a wife.
FERDINAND (starting back amazed). Father!
PRESIDENT. Answer me not. I have made proposals, in your name, to Lady Milford. You will instantly determine upon going to her, and declaring yourself her bridegroom.
FERDINAND. Lady Milford! father?
PRESIDENT. I presume she is not unknown to you!
FERDINAND (passionately). To what brothel is she unknown through the dukedom? But pardon me, dearest father! It is ridiculous to imagine that your proposal can be serious. Would you call yourself father of that infamous son who married a licensed prostitute?
PRESIDENT. Nay, more. I would ask her hand myself, if she would take a man of fifty. Would not you call yourself that infamous father's son?
FERDINAND. No! as God lives! that would I not!
PRESIDENT. An audacity, by my honor! which I pardon for its excessive singularity.
FERDINAND. I entreat you, father, release me from a demand which would render it insupportable to call myself your son.
PRESIDENT. Are you distracted, boy? What reasonable man would not thirst after a distinction which makes him, as one of a trio, the equal and co-partner of his sovereign?
FERDINAND. You are quite an enigma to me, father! "A distinction," do you call it? A distinction to share that with a prince, wherein he places himself on a level with the meanest of his subjects? (The PRESIDENT bursts into a loud laugh.) You may scoff--I must submit to it in a father. With what countenance should I support the gaze of the meanest laborer, who at least receives an undivided person as the portion of his bride? With what countenance should I present myself before the world? before the prince? nay, before the harlot herself, who seeks to wash out in my shame the brandmarks of her honor?
PRESIDENT. Where in the world couldst thou collect such notions, boy?
FERDINAND. I implore you, father, by heaven and earth! By thus sacrificing your only son you can never become so happy as you will make him miserable! If my life can be a step to your advancement, dispose of it. My life you gave me; and I will never hesitate a moment to sacrifice it wholly to your welfare. But my honor, father! If you deprive me of this, the giving me life was a mere trick of wanton cruelty, and I must equally curse the parent and the pander.
PRESIDENT (tapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner). That's as it should be, my dear boy! Now I see that you are a brave and noble fellow, and worthy of the first woman in the dukedom. You shall have her. This very day you shall be affianced to the Countess of Ostheim.
FERDINAND (in new disorder). Is this, then, destined to be the hour of my destruction?
PRESIDENT (regarding him with an eye of suspicion). In this union, I imagine, you can have no objection on the score of honor?
FERDINAND. None, father, none whatever. Frederica of Ostheim would make any other the happiest of men. (Aside, in the greatest agitation.) His kindness rends in pieces that remnant of my heart which his cruelty left unwounded.
PRESIDENT (his eye still fixed upon him). I expect your gratitude, Ferdinand!
FERDINAND (rushes towards him and kisses his hands). Father, your goodness awakens every spark of sentiment in my bosom. Father! receive my warmest thanks for your kind intentions. Your choice is unexceptionable! But I cannot--I dare not--pity me, father, I never can love the countess.
PRESIDENT (draws back). Ha! ha! now I've caught you, young gentleman! The cunning fox has tumbled into the trap. Oh, you artful hypocrite! It was not then honor which made you refuse Lady Milford? It was not the woman, but the nuptials which alarmed you! (FERDINAND stands petrified for a moment; then recovers himself and prepares to quit the chamber hastily.) Whither now? Stay, sir. Is this the respect due to your father? (FERDINAND returns slowly.) Her ladyship expects you. The duke has my promise! Both court and city believe all is settled. If thou makest me appear a liar, boy! If, before the duke--the lady--the court and city--thou shouldst make me appear a liar!--tremble, boy!--or when I have gained information of certain circumstances--how now? Why does the color so suddenly forsake your cheeks?
FERDINAND (pale and trembling). How? What? Nothing--it is nothing, my father!
PRESIDENT (casting upon him a dreadful look). Should there be cause. If I should discover the source whence this obstinacy proceeds! Boy! boy! the very suspicion drives me distracted! Leave me this moment. 'Tis now the hour of parade. As soon as the word is given, go thou to her ladyship. At my nod a dukedom trembles; we shall see whether a disobedient son dare dispute my will! (Going, returns.) Remember, sir! fail not to wait on Lady Milford, or dread my anger!
[Exit.
FERDINAND (awakens, as if from a dream). Is he gone? Was that a father's voice? Yes, I will go--I will see her--I will say such things to her--hold such a mirror before her eyes. Then, base woman, shouldst thou still demand my hand--in the presence of the assembled nobles, the military, and the people--gird thyself with all the pride of thy native Britain--I, a German youth, will spurn thee!
[Exit.
Act II
SCENE I.--A room in LADY MILFORD'S house. On the right of the stage stands a sofa, on the left a pianoforte.
LADY MILFORD, in a loose but elegant negligee, is running her hand over the keys of the pianoforte as SOPHY advances from the window.
SOPHY. The parade is over, and the officers are separating, but I see no signs of the major.
LADY MILFORD (rises and walks up and down the room in visible agitation). I know not what ails me to-day, Sophy! I never felt so before--you say you do not see him! It is evident enough that he is by no means impatient for this meeting--my heart feels oppressed as if by some heavy crime. Go! Sophy, order the most spirited horse in the stable to be saddled for me--I must away into the open air where I may look on the blue sky and hear the busy hum of man. I must dispel this gloominess by change and motion.
SOPHY. If you feel out of spirits, my lady, why not invite company! Let the prince give an entertainment here, or have the ombre table brought to you. If the prince and all his court were at my beck and call I would let no whim or fancy trouble me!
LADY MILFORD (throwing herself on the couch). Pray, spare me. I would gladly give a jewel in exchange for every hour's respite from the infliction of such company! I always have my rooms tapestried with these creatures! Narrow-minded, miserable beings, who are quite shocked if by chance a candid and heartfelt word should escape one's lips! and stand aghast as though they saw an apparition; slaves, moved by a single puppet-wire, which I can govern as easily as the threads of my embroidery! What can I have in common with such insipid wretches, whose souls, like their watches, are regulated by machinery? What pleasure can I have in the society of people whose answers to my questions I know beforehand? How can I hold communion with men who dare not venture on an opinion of their own lest it should differ from mine! Away with them--I care not to ride a horse that has not spirit enough to champ the bit! (Goes to the window.)
SOPHY. But surely, my lady, you except the prince, the handsomest, the wittiest, and the most gallant man in all his duchy.
LADY MILFORD (returning). Yes, in his duchy, that was well said--and it is only a royal duchy, Sophy, that could in the least excuse my weakness. You say the world envies me! Poor thing! It should rather pity me! Believe me, of all who drink of the streams of royal bounty there is none more miserable than the sovereign's favorite, for he who is great and mighty in the eyes of others comes to her but as the humble suppliant! It is true that by the talisman of his greatness he can realize every wish of my heart as readily as the magician calls forth the fairy palace from the depths of the earth! He can place the luxuries of both Indies upon my table, turn the barren wilderness to a paradise, can bid the broad rivers of his land play in triumphal arches over my path, or expend all the hard-earned gains of his subjects in a single feu-de-joie to my honor. But can he school his heart to respond to one great or ardent emotion? Can he extort one noble thought from his weak and indigent brain? Alas! my heart is thirsting amid all this ocean of splendor; what avail, then, a thousand virtuous sentiments when I am only permitted to indulge in the pleasures of the senses.
SOFHY (regarding her with surprise). Dear lady, you amaze me! how long is it since I entered your service?
LADY MILFORD. Do you ask because this is the first day on which you have learnt to know me? I have sold my honor to the prince, it is true, but my heart is still my own--a heart, dear Sophy, which even yet may be worth the acceptance of an honorable man--a heart over which the pestilential blast of courtly corruption has passed as the breath which for a moment dims the mirror's lustre. Believe me my spirit would long since have revolted against this miserable thraldom could my ambition have submitted to see another advanced to my place.
SOPHY. And could a heart like yours so readily surrender itself to mere ambition?
LADY MILFORD (with energy). Has it not already been avenged? nay, is it not even at this very moment making me pay a heavy atonement (with emphasis laying her hand on SOPHY'S shoulder)? Believe me, Sophy, woman has but to choose between ruling and serving, but the utmost joy of power is a worthless possession if the mightier joy of being slave to the man we love be denied us.
SOPHY. A truth, dear lady, which I could least of all have expected to hear from your lips!
LADY MILFORD. And wherefore, Sophy? Does not woman show, by her childish mode of swaying the sceptre of power, that she is only fit to go in leading-strings! Have not my fickle humors--my eager pursuit of wild dissipation--betrayed to you that I sought in these to stifle the still wilder throbbings of my heart?
SOPHY (starting back with surprise). This from you, my lady?
LADY MILFORD (continuing with increasing energy). Appease these throbbings. Give me the man in whom my thoughts are centered--the man I adore, without whom life were worse than death. Let me but hear from his lips that the tears of love with which my eyes are bedewed outvie the gems that sparkle in my hair, and I will throw at the feet of the prince his heart and his dukedom, and flee to the uttermost parts of the earth with the man of my love!
SOPHY (looking at her in alarm). Heavens! my lady! control your emotion----
LADY MILFORD (in surprise). You change color! To what have I given utterance? Yet, since I have said thus much, let me say still more--let my confidence be a pledge of your fidelity,--I will tell you all.
SOPHY (looking anxiously around). I fear my lady--I dread it--I have heard enough!
LADY MILFORD. This alliance with the major--you, like the rest of the world, believe to be the result of a court intrigue--Sophy, blush not--be not ashamed of me--it is the work of--my love!
SOPHY. Heavens! As I suspected!
LADY MILFORD. Yes, Sophy, they are all deceived. The weak prince--the diplomatic baron--the silly marshal--each and all of these are firmly convinced that this marriage is a most infallible means of preserving me to the prince, and of uniting us still more firmly! But this will prove the very means of separating us forever, and bursting asunder these execrable bonds. The cheater cheated--outwitted by a weak woman. Ye yourselves are leading me to the man of my heart--this was all I sought. Let him but once be mine--be but mine--then, oh, then, a long farewell to all this despicable pomp!
Act II, Scene II — An old valet of the DUKE'S, with a casket of jewels. The former
VALET. His serene highness begs your ladyship's acceptance of these jewels as a nuptial present. They have just arrived from Venice.
LADY MILFORD (opens the casket and starts back in astonishment). What did these jewels cost the duke?
VALET. Nothing!
LADY MILFORD. Nothing! Are you beside yourself? (retreating a step or two.) Old man! you fix on me a look as though you would pierce me through. Did you say these precious jewels cost nothing?
VALET. Yesterday seven thousand children of the land left their homes to go to America--they pay for all.
LADY MILFORD (sets the casket suddenly down, and paces up and down the room; after a pause, to the VALET). What distresses you, old man? you are weeping!
VALET (wiping his eyes, and trembling violently). Yes, for these jewels. My two sons are among the number.
LADY MILFORD. But they went not by compulsion?
VALET (laughing bitterly). Oh! dear no! they were all volunteers! There were certainly some few forward lads who pushed to the front of the ranks and inquired of the colonel at what price the prince sold his subjects per yoke, upon which our gracious ruler ordered the regiments to be marched to the parade, and the malcontents to be shot. We heard the report of the muskets, and saw brains and blood spurting about us, while the whole band shouted--"Hurrah for America!"
LADY MILFORD. And I heard nothing of all this! saw nothing!
VALET. No, most gracious lady, because you rode off to the bear-hunt with his highness just at the moment the drum was beating for the march. 'Tis a pity your ladyship missed the pleasure of the sight--here, crying children might be seen following their wretched father--there, a mother distracted with grief was rushing forward to throw her tender infant among the bristling bayonets--here, a bride and bridegroom were separated with the sabre's stroke--and there, graybeards were seen to stand in despair, and fling their very crutches after their sons in the New World --and, in the midst of all this, the drums were beating loudly, that the prayers and lamentations might not reach the Almighty ear.
LADY MILFORD (rising in violent emotion). Away with these jewels--their rays pierce my bosom like the flames of hell. Moderate your grief, old man. Your children shall be restored to you. You shall again clasp them to your bosom.
VALET (with warmth). Yes, heaven knows! We shall meet again! As they passed the city gates they turned round and cried aloud: "God bless our wives and children--long life to our gracious sovereign. At the day of judgment we shall all meet again!"
LADY MILFORD (walks up and down the room in great agitation). Horrible! most horrible!--and they would persuade me that I had dried up all the tears in the land. Now, indeed, my eyes are fearfully opened! Go--tell the prince that I will thank him in person! (As the valet is going she drops the purse into his hat.) And take this as a recompense for the truth you have revealed to me.
VALET (throws the purse with contempt on the table). Keep it, with your other treasures. [Exit.
LADY MILFORD (looking after him in astonishment). Sophy, follow him, and inquire his name. His sons shall be restored to him. (SOPHY goes. LADY MILFORD becomes absorbed in thought. Pause. Then to SOPHY as she returns.) Was there not a report that some town on the frontier had been destroyed by fire, and four hundred families reduced to beggary? (She rings.)
SOPHY. What has made your ladyship just think of that? Yes--such was certainly the fact, and most of these poor creatures are either compelled to serve their creditors as bondsmen, or are dragging out their miserable days in the depths of the royal silver mines.
Enter a SERVANT. What are your ladyship's commands?
LADY MILFORD (giving him the case of jewels). Carry this to my treasurer without delay. Let the jewels be sold and the money distributed among the four hundred families who were ruined by the fire.
SOPHY. Consider, my lady, the risk you run of displeasing his highness.
LADY MILFORD (with dignity). Should I encircle my brows with the curses of his subjects? (Makes a sign to the servant, who goes away with the jewel case.) Wouldst thou have me dragged to the earth by the dreadful weight of the tears of misery? Nay! Sophy, it is better far to wear false jewels on the brow, and to have the consciousness of a good deed within the breast!
SOPHY. But diamonds of such value! Why not rather give some that are less precious? Truly, my lady, it is an unpardonable act.
LADY MILFORD. Foolish girl! For this deed more brilliants and pearls will flow for me in one moment than kings ever wore in their richest diadems! Ay, and infinitely more beautiful!
SERVANT enters. Major von Walter!
SOPHY (running hastily to the help of LADY MILFORD, who seems fainting). Heavens, my lady, you change color!
LADY MILFORD. The first man who ever made me tremble. (To the SERVANT.) I am not well--but stay--what said the major?--how? O Sophy! I look sadly ill, do I not?
SOPHY. I entreat you, my lady, compose yourself.
SERVANT. Is it your ladyship's wish that I should deny you to the major?
LADY MILFORD (hesitating). Tell him--I shall be happy to see him. (Exit SERVANT.) What shall I say to him, Sophy? how shall I receive him? I will be silent--alas! I fear he will despise my weakness. He will--ah, me! what sad forebodings oppress my heart! You are going Sophy! stay, yet--no, no--he comes--yes, stay, stay with me----
SOPHY. Collect yourself, my lady, the major----
Act II, Scene III — FERDINAND VON WALTER. The former
FERDINAND (with a slight bow). I hope I do not interrupt your ladyship?
LADY MILFORD (with visible emotion). Not at all, baron--not in the least.
FERDINAND. I wait on your ladyship, at the command of my father.
LADY MILFORD. Therein I am his debtor.
FERDINAND. And I am charged to announce to you that our marriage is determined on. Thus far I fulfil the commission of my father.
LADY MILFORD (changing color and trembling). And not of your own heart?
FERDINAND. Ministers and panders have no concern with hearts.
LADY MILFORD (almost speechless with emotion). And you yourself--have you nothing to add?
FERDINAND (looking at SOPHY). Much! my lady, much!
LADY MILFORD (motions to SOPHY to withdraw). May I beg you to take a seat by my side?
FERDINAND. I will be brief, lady.
LADY MILFORD. Well!
FERDINAND. I am a man of honor!
LADY MILFORD. Whose worth I know how to appreciate.
FERDINAND. I am of noble birth!
LADY MILFORD. Noble as any in the land!
FERDINAND. A soldier!
LADY MILFORD (in a soft, affectionate manner). Thus far you have only enumerated advantages which you share in common with many others. Why are you so silent regarding those noble qualities which are peculiarly your own?
FERDINAND (coldly). Here they would be out of place.
LADY MILFORD (with increasing agitation). In what light am I to understand this prelude?
FERDINAND (slowly, and with emphasis). As the protest of the voice of honor--should you think proper to enforce the possession of my hand!
LADY MILFORD (starting with indignation). Major von Walter! What language is this?
FERDINAND (calmly). The language of my heart--of my unspotted name--and of this true sword.
LADY MILFORD. Your sword was given to you by the prince.
FERDINAND. 'Twas the state which gave it, by the hands of the prince. God bestowed on me an honest heart. My nobility is derived from a line of ancestry extending through centuries.
LADY MILFORD. But the authority of the prince----
FERDINAND (with warmth). Can he subvert the laws of humanity, or stamp glory on our actions as easily as he stamps value on the coin of his realm? He himself is not raised above the laws of honor, although he may stifle its whispers with gold--and shroud his infamy in robes of ermine! But enough of this, lady!--it is too late now to talk of blasted prospects--or of the desecration of ancestry--or of that nice sense of honor--girded on with my sword--or of the world's opinion. All these I am ready to trample under foot as soon as you have proved to me that the reward is not inferior to the sacrifice.
LADY MILFORD (in extreme distress turning away). Major! I have not deserved this!
FERDINAND (taking her hand). Pardon me, lady--we are without witnesses. The circumstance which brings us together to-day--and only to-day-- justifies me, nay, compels me, to reveal to you my most secret feelings. I cannot comprehend, lady, how a being gifted with so much beauty and spirit--qualities which a man cannot fail to admire--could throw herself away on a prince incapable of valuing aught beyond her mere person--and yet not feel some visitings of shame, when she steps forth to offer her heart to a man of honor!
LADY MILFORD (looking at him with an air of pride). Say on, sir, without reserve.
FERDINAND. You call yourself an Englishwoman--pardon me, lady, I can hardly believe you. The free-born daughter of the freest people under heaven--a people too proud to imitate even foreign virtues--would surely never have sold herself to foreign vices! It is not possible, lady, that you should be a native of Britain, unless indeed your heart be as much below as the sons of Britannia vaunt theirs to be above all others!
LADY MILFORD. Have you done, sir?
FERDINAND. Womanly vanity--passions--temperament--a natural appetite for pleasure--all these might, perhaps, be pleaded in extenuation--for virtue often survives honor--and many who once trod the paths of infamy have subsequently reconciled themselves to society by the performance of noble deeds, and have thus thrown a halo of glory round their evil doings--but if this were so, whence comes the monstrous extortion that now oppresses the people with a weight never before known? This I would ask in the name of my fatherland--and now, lady, I have done!
LADY MILFORD (with gentleness and dignity). This is the first time, Baron von Walter, that words such as these have been addressed to me--and you are the only man to whom I would in return have vouchsafed an answer. Your rejection of my hand commands my esteem. Your invectives against my heart have my full forgiveness, for I will not believe you sincere, since he who dares hold such language to a woman, that could ruin him in an instant--must either believe that she possesses a great and noble heart-- or must be the most desperate of madmen. That you ascribe the misery of this land to me may He forgive, before whose throne you, and I, and the prince shall one day meet! But, as in my person you have insulted the daughter of Britain, so in vindication of my country's honor you must hear my exculpation.
FERDINAND (leaning on his sword). Lady, I listen with interest.
LADY MILFORD. Hear, then, that which I have never yet breathed to mortal, and which none but yourself will ever learn from my lips. I am not the low adventurer you suppose me, sir! Nay! did I listen to the voice of pride, I might even boast myself to be of royal birth; I am descended from the unhappy Thomas Norfolk, who paid the penalty of his adherence to the cause of Mary, Queen of Scots, by a bloody death on the scaffold. My father, who, as royal chamberlain, had once enjoyed his sovereign's confidence, was accused of maintaining treasonable relations with France, and was condemned and executed by a decree of the Parliament of Great Britain. Our estates were confiscated, and our family banished from their native soil. My mother died on the day of my father's execution, and I--then a girl of fourteen--fled to Germany with one faithful attendant. A casket of jewels, and this crucifix, placed in my bosom by my dying mother, were all my fortune!
[FERDINAND, absorbed in thought, surveys LADY MILFORD with looks of compassion and sympathy.
LADY MILFORD (continuing with increased emotion). Without a name-- without protection or property--a foreigner and an orphan, I reached Hamburg. I had learnt nothing but a little French, and to run my fingers over the embroidery frame, or the keys of my harpsichord. But, though I was ignorant of all useful arts, I had learnt full well to feast off gold and silver, to sleep beneath silken hangings, to bid attendant pages obey my voice, and to listen to the honeyed words of flattery and adulation. Six years passed away in sorrow and in sadness--the remnant of my scanty means was fast melting away--my old and faithful nurse was no more--and-- and then it was that fate brought your sovereign to Hamburg. I was walking beside the shores of the Elbe, wondering, as I gazed on its waters, whether they or my sorrows were the deeper, when the duke crossed my path. He followed me, traced me to my humble abode, and, casting himself at my feet, vowed that he loved me. (She pauses, and, after struggling with her emotion, continues in a voice choked by tears.) All the images of my happy childhood were revived in hues of delusive brightness--while the future lowered before me black as the grave. My heart panted for communion with another--and I sank into the arms opened to receive me! (Turning away.) And now you condemn me!
FERDINAND (greatly agitated, follows her and leads her back). Lady! heavens! what do I hear! What have I done? The guilt of my conduct is unveiled in all its deformity! It is impossible you should forgive me.
LADY MILFORD (endeavoring to overcome her emotion). Hear me on! The prince, it is true, overcame my unprotected youth, but the blood of the Howards still glowed within my veins, and never ceased to reproach me; that I, the descendant of royal ancestors, should stoop to be a prince's paramour! Pride and destiny still contended in my bosom, when the duke brought me hither, where scenes the most revolting burst upon my sight! The voluptuousness of the great is an insatiable hyena--the craving of whose appetite demands perpetual victims. Fearfully had it laid this country waste separating bridegroom and bride--and tearing asunder even the holy bonds of marriage. Here it had destroyed the tranquil happiness of a whole family--there the blighting pest had seized on a young and inexperienced heart, and expiring victims called down bitter imprecations on the heads of the undoers. It was then that I stepped forth between the lamb and the tiger, and, in a moment of dalliance, extorted from the duke his royal promise that this revolting licentiousness should cease.
FERDINAND (pacing the room in violent agitation). No more, lady! No more!
LADY MILFORD. This gloomy period was succeeded by one still more gloomy. The court swarmed with French and Italian adventurers--the royal sceptre became the plaything of Parisian harlots, and the people writhed and bled beneath their capricious rule. Each had her day. I saw them sink before me, one by one, for I was the most skilful coquette of all! It was then that I seized and wielded the tyrant's sceptre whilst he slumbered voluptuously in my embrace--then, Walter, thy country, for the first time, felt the hand of humanity, and reposed in confidence on my bosom. (A pause, during which she gazes upon him with tenderness.) Oh! 'that the man, by whom, of all others, I least wish to be misunderstood, should compel me to turn braggart and parade my unobtrusive virtues to the glare of admiration! Walter, I have burst open the doors of prisons--I have cancelled death-warrants and shortened many a frightful eternity upon the galleys. Into wounds beyond my power to heal I have at least poured soothing balsam. I have hurled mighty villains to the earth, and oft with the tears of a harlot saved the cause of innocence from impending ruin. Ah! young man, how sweet were then my feelings! How proudly did these actions teach my heart to support the reproaches of my noble blood! And now comes the man who alone can repay me for all that I have suffered--the man, whom perhaps my relenting destiny created as a compensation for former sorrows--the man, whom with ardent affection, I already clasped in my dreams.
FERDINAND (interrupting her). Hold, lady, hold! You exceed the bounds of our conference! You undertook to clear yourself from reproach, and you make me a criminal! Spare me, I beseech you! Spare a heart already overwhelmed by confusion and remorse!
LADY MILFORD (grasping his hand). You must hear me, Walter! hear me now or never. Long enough has the heroine sustained me; now you must feel the whole weight of these tears! Mark me, Walter! Should an unfortunate--impetuously, irresistibly attracted towards you--clasp you to her bosom full of unutterable, inextinguishable love--should this unfortunate--bowed down with the consciousness of shame--disgusted with vicious pleasures--heroically exalted by the inspiration of virtue--throw herself--thus into your arms (embracing him in an eager and supplicating manner); should she do this, and you still pronounce the freezing word "Honor!" Should she pray that through you she might be saved--that through you she might be restored to her hopes of heaven! (Turning away her head, and speaking in a hollow, faltering voice.) Or should she, her prayer refused, listen to the voice of despair, and to escape from your image plunge herself into yet more fearful depths of infamy and vice----
FERDINAND (breaking from her in great emotion). No, by heaven! This is more than I can endure! Lady, I am compelled--Heaven and earth compels me--to make the honest avowal of my sentiments and situation.
LADY MILFORD (hastening from him). Oh! not now! By all that is holy I entreat you--spare me in this dreadful moment when my lacerated heart bleeds from a thousand wounds. Be your decision life or death--I dare not--I will not hear it!
FERDINAND. I entreat you, lady! I insist! What I have to say will mitigate my offence, and warmly plead your forgiveness for the past. I have been deceived in you, lady. I expected--nay, I wished to find you deserving my contempt. I came determined to insult you, and to make myself the object of your hate. Happy would it have been for us both had my purpose succeeded! (He pauses; then proceeds in a gentle and faltering voice.) Lady, I love!--I love a maid of humble birth--Louisa Miller is her name, the daughter of a music-master. (LADY MILFORD turns away pale and greatly agitated.) I know into what an abyss I plunge myself; but, though prudence bids me conceal my passion, honor overpowers its precepts. I am the criminal--I first destroyed the golden calm of Louisa's innocence--I lulled her heart with aspiring hopes, and surrendered it, like a betrayer, a prey to the wildest of passions. You will bid me remember my rank--my birth--my father--schemes of aggrandisement. But in vain--I love! My hopes become more fervent as the breach widens between nature and the mere conventions of society-- between my resolution and worldly prejudices! We shall see whether love or interest is victorious. (LADY MILFORD during this has retired to the extreme end of the apartment, and covers her face with both hands. FERDINAND approaches her.) Have you aught to answer, lady?
LADY MILFORD (in a tone of intense suffering). Nothing! Nothing! but that you destroy yourself and me--and, with us yet a third.
FERDINAND. A third?
LADY MILFORD. Never can you marry Louisa; never can you be happy with me. We shall all be the victims of your father's rashness. I can never hope to possess the heart of a husband who has been forced to give me his hand.
FERDINAND. Forced, lady? Forced? And yet given? Will you enforce a hand without a heart? Will you tear from a maiden a man who is the whole world to her? Will you tear a maiden from a man who has centered all his hopes of happiness on her alone? Will you do this, lady? you who but a moment before were the lofty, noble-minded daughter of Britain?
LADY MILFORD. I will because I must! (earnestly and firmly). My passions, Walter, overcome my tenderness for you. My honor has no alternative. Our union is the talk of the whole city. Every eye, every shaft of ridicule is bent against me. 'Twere a stain which time could never efface should a subject of the prince reject my hand! Appease your father if you have the power! Defend yourself as you best may! my resolution is taken. The mine is fired and I abide the issue.
[Exit. FERDINAND remains in speechless astonishment for some moments; then rushes wildly out.
Act II, Scene IV — Miller's House
MILLER meeting LOUISA and MRS. MILLER.
MILLER. Ay! ay! I told you how it would be!
LOUISA (hastening to him with anxiety). What, father? What?
MILLER (running up and down the room). My cloak, there. Quick, quick! I must be beforehand with him. My cloak, I say! Yes, yes! this was just what I expected!
LOUISA. For God's sake, father! tell me?
MRS. MILLER. What is the matter, Miller? What alarms you?
MILLER (throwing down his wig). Let that go to the friezer. What is the matter, indeed? And my beard, too, is nearly half an inch long. What's the matter? What do you think, you old carrion. The devil has broke loose, and you may look out for squalls.
MRS. MILLER. There, now, that's just the way! When anything goes wrong it is always my fault.
MILLER. Your fault? Yes, you brimstone fagot! and whose else should it be? This very morning when you were holding forth about that confounded major, did I not say then what would be the consequence? That knave, Worm, has blabbed.
MRS. MILLER. Gracious heavens! But how do you know?
MILLER. How do I know? Look yonder! a messenger of the minister is already at the door inquiring for the fiddler.
LOUISA (turning pale, and sitting down). Oh! God! I am in agony!
MILLER. And you, too, with that languishing air? (laughs bitterly). But, right! Right! There is an old saying that where the devil keeps a breeding-cage he is sure to hatch a handsome daughter.
MRS. MILLER. But how do you know that Louisa is in question? You may have been recommended to the duke; he may want you in his orchestra.
MILLER (jumping up, and seizing his fiddlestick). May the sulphurous rain of hell consume thee! Orchestra, indeed! Ay, where you, you old procuress, shall howl the treble whilst my smarting back groans the base (Throwing himself upon a chair.) Oh! God in heaven!
LOUISA (sinks on the sofa, pale as death). Father! Mother! Oh! my heart sinks within me.
MILLER (starting up with anger). But let me only lay hands on that infernal quill-driver! I'll make him skip--be it in this world or the next; if I don't pound him to a jelly, body and soul; if I don't write all the Ten Commandments, the seven Penitential Psalms, the five books of Moses, and the whole of the Prophets upon his rascally hide so distinctly that the blue hieroglyphics shall be legible at the day of judgment--if I don't, may I----
MRS. MILLER. Yes, yes, curse and swear your hardest! That's the way to frighten the devil! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, gracious heavens! What shall we do? Who can advise us? Speak, Miller, speak; this silence distracts me! (She runs screaming up and down the room.)
MILLER. I will instantly to the minister! I will open my mouth boldly, and tell him all from beginning to end. You knew it before me, and ought to have given me a hint of what was going on! The girl might yet have been advised. It might still have been time to save her! But, no! There was something for your meddling and making, and you must needs add fuel to the fire. Now you have made your bed you may lie on it. As you have brewed so you may drink; I shall take my daughter under my arm and be off with her over the borders.
Act II, Scene V
MILLER, MRS. MILLER, LOUISA, FERDINND.
(All speaking together).
FERDINAND (rushes in, terrified, and out of breath). Has my father been here?
LOUISA (starts back in horror). His father? Gracious heaven!
MRS. MILLER (wringing her hands). The minister here? Then it's all over with us!
MILLER (laughs bitterly). Thank God! Thank God! Now comes our benefit!
FERDINAND (rushing towards LOUISA, and clasping her in his arms). Mine thou art, though heaven and hell were placed between us!
LOUISA. I am doomed! Speak, Ferdinand! Did you not utter that dreaded name? Your father?
FERDINAND. Be not alarmed! the danger has passed! I have thee again! again thou hast me! Let me regain my breath on thy dear bosom. It was a dreadful hour!
LOUISA. What was a dreadful hour? Answer me, Ferdinand! I die with apprehension!
FERDINAND (drawing back, gazing upon her earnestly, then in a solemn tone). An hour, Louisa, when another's form stepped between my heart and thee--an hour in which my love grew pale before my conscience--when Louisa ceased to be all in all to Ferdinand!
[LOUISA sinks back upon her chair, and conceals her face.
(FERDINAND stands before her in speechless agitation, then turns away from her suddenly and exclaims). Never, never! Baroness, 'tis impossible! you ask too much! Never can I sacrifice this innocence at your shrine. No, by the eternal God! I cannot recall my oath, which speaks to me from thy soul--thrilling eyes louder than the thunders of heaven! Behold, lady! Inhuman father, look on this! Would you have me destroy this angel? Shall my perfidy kindle a hell in this heavenly bosom? (turning towards her with firmness). No! I will bear her to thy throne, Almighty Judge! Thy voice shall declare if my affection be a crime. (He grasps her hand, and raises her from the sofa.) Courage, my beloved!--thou hast conquered--and I come forth a victor from the terrible conflict!
LOUISA. No, no, Ferdinand, conceal nothing from me! Declare boldly the dreadful decree! You named your father! You spoke of the baroness! The shivering of death seizes my heart! 'Tis said she is about to be married!
FERDINAND (quite overcome, throws himself at her feet). Yes, and to me, dear unfortunate. Such is my father's will!
LOUISA (after a deep pause, in a tremulous voice, but with assumed resignation). Well! Why am I thus affrighted? Has not my dear father often told me that you never could be mine? But I was obstinate, and believed him not. (A second pause; she falls weeping into her father's arms.) Father, thy daughter is thine own again! Father, forgive me! 'Twas not your child's fault that the dream was so heavenly--the waking so terrible!
MILLER. Louisa! Louisa! O merciful heaven! she has lost her senses! My daughter! My poor child! Curses upon thy seducer! Curses upon the pandering mother who threw thee in his way!
MRS. MILLER (weeping on LOUISA'S neck). Daughter, do I deserve this curse? God forgive you, major! What has this poor lamb done that you bring this misery upon her?
FERDINAND (with resolution). I will unravel the meshes of these intrigues. I will burst asunder these iron chains of prejudice. As a free-born man will I make my choice, and crush these insect souls with the colossal force of my love! [Going.
LOUISA (rises trembling from the sofa, and attempts to follow him). Stay, oh, stay! Whither are you going? Father! Mother! He deserts us in this fearful hour!
MRS. MILLER (hastens towards him, and detains him). The president is coming hither? He will ill-use my child! He will ill-use us all,--and yet, major, you are going to leave us.
MILLER (laughs hysterically). Leave us. Of course he is! What should hinder him? The girl has given him all she had. (Grasping FERDINAND with one hand, and LOUISA with the other.) Listen to me, young gentleman. The only way out of my house is over my daughter's body. If you possess one single spark of honor await your father's coming; tell him, deceiver, how you stole her young and inexperienced heart; or, by the God who made me! (thrusting LOUISA towards him with violence and passion) you shall crush before my eyes this trembling worm whom love for you has brought to shame and infamy!
FERDINAND (returns, and walks to and fro in deep thought). 'Tis true, the President's power is great--parental authority is a mighty word--even crimes claim respect when concealed within its folds. He may push that authority far--very far! But love goes beyond it. Hear me, Louisa; give me thy hand! (clasping it firmly). As surely as I hope for Heaven's mercy in my dying hour, I swear that the moment which separates these hands shall also rend asunder the thread that binds me to existence!
LOUISA. You terrify me! Turn from me! Your lips tremble! Your eyes roll fearfully!
FERDINAND. Nay, Louisa! fear nothing! It is not madness which prompts my oath! 'tis the choicest gift of Heaven, decision, sent to my aid at that critical moment, when an oppressed bosom can only find relief in some desperate remedy. I love thee, Louisa! Thou shalt be mine! 'Tis resolved! And now for my father!
[He rushes out, and is met by the PRESIDENT.
Act II, Scene VI
MILLER, MRS. MILLER, LOUISA, FERDINAND, PRESIDENT, with SERVANTS.
PRESIDENT (as he enters). So! here he is! (All start in terror.)
FERDINAND (retiring a few paces). In the house of innocence!
PRESIDENT. Where a son learns obedience to his father!
FERDINAND. Permit me to----
PRESIDENT (interrupting him, turns to MILLER). The father, I presume?
MILLER. I am Miller, the musician.
PRESIDENT (to MRS. MILLER). And you, the mother?
MRS. MILLER. Yes, alas! her unfortunate mother!
FERDINAND (to MILLER.) Father, take Louisa to her chamber--she is fainting.
PRESIDENT. An unnecessary precaution! I will soon arouse her. (To LOUISA.) How long have you been acquainted with the President's son?
LOUISA (with timidity). Of the President's son I have never thought. Ferdinand von Walter has paid his addresses to me since November last.
FERDINAND. And he adores her!
PRESIDENT (to LOUISA). Has he given you any assurance of his love?
FERDINAND. But a few minutes since, the most solemn, and God was my witness.
PRESIDENT (to his son angrily). Silence! You shall have opportunity enough of confessing your folly. (To LOUISA.) I await your answer.
LOUISA. He swore eternal love to me.
FERDINAND. And I will keep my oath.
PRESIDENT (to FERDINAND). Must I command your silence? (To LOUISA). Did you accept his rash vows?
LOUISA (with tenderness). I did, and gave him mine in exchange.
FERDINAND (resolutely). The bond is irrevocable----
PRESIDENT (to FERDINAND). If you dare to interrupt me again I'll teach you better manners. (To LOUISA, sneeringly.) And he paid handsomely every time, no doubt?
LOUISA. I do not understand your question.
PRESIDENT (with an insulting laugh). Oh, indeed! Well, I only meant to hint that--as everything has its price--I hope you have been more provident than to bestow your favors gratis--or perhaps you were satisfied with merely participating in the pleasure? Eh? how was it?
FERDINAND (infuriated). Hell and confusion! What does this mean?
LOUISA (to FERDINAND, with dignity and emotion). Baron von Walter, now you are free!
FERDINAND. Father! virtue though clothed in a beggar's garb commands respect!
PRESIDENT (laughing aloud). A most excellent joke! The father is commanded to honor his son's strumpet!
LOUISA. Oh! Heaven and earth! (Sinks down in a swoon.)
FERDINAND (drawing his sword). Father, you gave me life, and, till now, I acknowledged your claim on it. That debt is cancelled. (Replaces his sword in the scabbard, and points to LOUISA.) There lies the bond of filial duty torn to atoms!
MILLER (who has stood apart trembling, now comes forward, by turns gnashing his teeth in rage, and shrinking back in terror). Your excellency, the child is the father's second self. No offence, I hope! Who strikes the child hits the father--blow for blow--that's our rule here. No offence, I hope!
MRS. MILLER. God have mercy on us! Now the old man has begun--we shall all catch it with a vengeance!
PRESIDENT (who has not understood what MILLER said). What? is the old pander stirred up? We shall have something to settle together presently, Mr. Pander!
MILLER. You mistake me, my lord. My name is Miller, at your service for an adagio--but, as to ladybirds, I cannot serve you. As long as there is such an assortment at court, we poor citizens can't afford to lay in stock! No offence, I hope!
MRS. MILLER. For Heaven's sake, man, hold your tongue! would you ruin both wife and child?
FERDINAND (to his father). You play but a sorry part here, my lord, and might well have dispensed with these witnesses.
MILLER (coming nearer, with increasing confidence). To be plain and above board--No offence, I hope--your excellency may have it all your own way in the Cabinet--but this is my house. I'm your most obedient, very humble servant when I wait upon you with a petition, but the rude, unmannerly intruder I have the right to bundle out--no offence, I hope!
PRESIDENT (pale with anger, and approaching MILLER). What? What's that you dare to utter?
MILLER (retreating a few steps). Only a little bit of my mind sir--no offence, I hope!
PRESIDENT (furiously). Insolent villain! Your impertinence shall procure you a lodging in prison. (To his servants). Call in the officers of justice! Away! (Some of the attendants go out. The PRESIDENT paces the stage with a furious air.) The father shall to prison; the mother and her strumpet daughter to the pillory! Justice shall lend her sword to my rage! For this insult will I have ample amends. Shall such contemptible creatures thwart my plans, and set father and son against each other with impunity? Tremble, miscreants! I will glut my hate in your destruction--the whole brood of you--father, mother, and daughter shall be sacrificed to my vengeance!
FERDINAND (to MILLER, in a collected and firm manner). Oh! not so! Fear not, friends! I am your protector. (Turning to the PRESIDENT, with deference). Be not so rash, father! For your own sake let me beg of you no violence. There is a corner of my heart where the name of father has never yet been heard. Oh! press not into that!
PRESIDENT. Silence, unworthy boy! Rouse not my anger to greater fury!
MILLER (recovering from a stupor). Wife, look you to your daughter! I fly to the duke. His highness' tailor--God be praised for reminding me of it at this moment--learns the flute of me--I cannot fail of success. (Is hastening off.)
PRESIDENT. To the duke, will you? Have you forgotten that I am the threshold over which you must pass, or failing, perish? To the duke, you fool? Try to reach him with your lamentations, when, reduced to a living skeleton, you lie buried in a dungeon five fathoms deep, where light and sound never enter; where darkness goggles at hell with gloating eyes! There gnash thy teeth in anguish; there rattle thy chains in despair, and groan, "Woe is me! This is beyond human endurance!"
Act II, Scene VII
Officers of Justice--the former.
FERDINAND (flies to LOUISA, who, overcome with fear, faints in his arms.) Louisa!--Help, for God's sake! Terror overpowers her!
[MILLER, catching up his cane and putting on his hat, prepares for defense. MRS. MILLER throws herself on her knees before the PRESIDENT.
PRESIDENT (to the officers, showing his star). Arrest these offenders in the duke's name. Boy, let go that strumpet! Fainting or not--when once her neck is fitted with the iron collar the mob will pelt her till she revives.
MRS. MILLER. Mercy, your excellency! Mercy! mercy!
MILLER (snatching her from the ground with violence). Kneel to God, you howling fool, and not to villains--since I must to prison any way!
PRESIDENT (biting his lips.) You may be out in your reckoning, scoundrel! There are still gallows to spare! (To the officers.) Must I repeat my orders?
[They approach LOUISA--FERDINAND places himself before her.
FERDINAND (fiercely). Touch her who dare! (He draws his sword and flourishes it.) Let no one presume to lay a finger on her, whose life is not well insured. (To the PRESIDENT.) As you value your own safety, father, urge me no further!
PRESIDENT (to the officers in a threatening voice). At your peril, cowards! (They again attempt to seize LOUISA.)
FERDINAND. Hell and furies! Back, I say! (Driving them away.) Once more, father, I warn you--have some thought for your own safety! Drive me not to extremity!
PRESIDENT (enraged to the officers). Scoundrels! Is this your obedience? (The officers renew their efforts.)
FERDINAND. Well, if it must be so (attacking and wounding several of them), Justice forgive me!
PRESIDENT (exasperated to the utmost). Let me see whether I, too, must feel your weapon! (He seizes LOUISA and delivers her to an officer.)
FERDINAND (laughing bitterly). Father! father! Your conduct is a galling satire upon Providence, who has so ill understood her people as to make bad statesmen of excellent executioners!
PRESIDENT (to the officers). Away with her!
FERDINAND. Father, if I cannot prevent it, she must stand in the pillory--but by her side will also stand the son of the president. Do you still insist?
PRESIDENT. The more entertaining will be the exhibition. Away with her!
FERDINAND. I will pledge the honor of an officer's sword for her. Do you still insist?
PRESIDENT. Your sword is already familiar with disgrace. Away! away! You know my will.
FERDINAND (wrests LOUISA from the officer and holds her with one arm, with the other points his sword at her bosom.) Father, rather than tamely see my wife branded with infamy I will plunge this sword into her bosom. Do you still insist?
PRESIDENT. Do it, if the point be sharp enough!
FERDINAND (releases LOUISA, and looks wildly towards heaven). Be thou witness, Almighty God, that I have left no human means untried to save her! Forgive me now if I have recourse to hellish means. While you are leading her to the pillory (speaking loudly in the PRESIDENT'S ear), I will publish throughout the town a pleasant history of how a president's chair may be gained! [Exit.
PRESIDENT (as if thunder-struck). How? What said he? Ferdinand! Release her instantly! (Rushes after his son.)