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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Fiesco or, The Genoese Conspiracy + A Tragedy + +Author: Friedrich Schiller + +Release Date: October 25, 2006 [EBook #6783] +Last Updated: November 6, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIESCO OR, THE GENOESE CONSPIRACY *** + + + + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <h1> + FIESCO, OR THE GENOESE CONSPIRACY. + </h1> + <h2> + A TRAGEDY. <br /> <br /> By Friedrich Schiller + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + AUTHOR'S PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + The chief sources from which I have drawn the history of this conspiracy + are Cardinal de Retz's Conjuration du Comte Jean Louis de Fiesque, the + Histoire des Genes, and the third volume of Robertson's History of Charles + the Fifth. + </p> + <p> + The liberties which I have taken with the historical facts will be + excused, if I have succeeded in my attempt; and, if not, it is better that + my failure should appear in the effusions of fancy, than in the + delineation of truth. Some deviation from the real catastrophe of the + conspiracy (according to which the count actually perished [A] when his + schemes were nearly ripe for execution) was rendered necessary by the + nature of the drama, which does not allow the interposition either of + chance or of a particular Providence. It would be matter of surprise to me + that this subject has never been adopted by any tragic writer, did not the + circumstances of its conclusion, so unfit for dramatic representation, + afford a sufficient reason for such neglect. Beings of a superior nature + may discriminate the finest links of that chain which connects an + individual action with the system of the universe, and may, perhaps, + behold them extended to the utmost limits of time, past and future; but + man seldom sees more than the simple facts, divested of their various + relations of cause and effect. The writer, therefore, must adapt his + performance to the short-sightedness of human nature, which he would + enlighten; and not to the penetration of Omniscience, from which all + intelligence is derived. + </p> + <p> + In my Tragedy of the Robbers it was my object to delineate the victim of + an extravagant sensibility; here I endeavor to paint the reverse; a victim + of art and intrigue. But, however strongly marked in the page of history + the unfortunate project of Fiesco may appear, on the stage it may prove + less interesting. If it be true that sensibility alone awakens + sensibility, we may conclude that the political hero is the less + calculated for dramatic representation, in proportion as it becomes + necessary to lay aside the feelings of a man in order to become a + political hero. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, impossible for me to breathe into my fable that glowing + life which animates the pure productions of poetical inspiration; but, in + order to render the cold and sterile actions of the politician capable of + affecting the human heart, I was obliged to seek a clue to those actions + in the human heart itself. I was obliged to blend together the man and the + politician, and to draw from the refined intrigues of state situations + interesting to humanity. The relations which I bear to society are such as + unfold to me more of the heart than of the cabinet; and, perhaps, this + very political defect may have become a poetical excellence. + </p> + <p> + [A] Fiesco, after having succeeded in the chief objects of his + undertaking, happened to fall into the sea whilst hastening to quell some + disturbances on board of a vessel in the harbor; the weight of his armor + rendered his struggles ineffectual, and he perished. The deviation from + history in the tragedy might have been carried farther, and would perhaps + have rendered it more suitable to dramatic representation.—Translation. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + FIESCO; OR, THE GENOESE CONSPIRACY.<br /> <br /> A TRAGEDY. + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + </h3> + <p> + ANDREAS DORIA, Duke of Genoa, a venerable old man, eighty years of age, + retaining the traces of a high spirit: the chief features in this + character are dignity and a rigid brevity in command. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO DORIA, nephew of the former, and pretender to the ducal power, + twenty-six years of age, rough and forbidding in his address, deportment, + and manners, with a vulgar pride and disgusting features. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO, Count of Lavagna, chief of the conspiracy, a tall, handsome young + man, twenty-three years of age; his character is that of dignified pride + and majestic affability, with courtly complaisance and deceitfulness. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA, a determined republican, sixty years of age; grave, austere, and + inflexible: a marked character. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO, a conspirator, a youth of twenty; frank and high-spirited, + proud, hasty, and undisguised. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO, a conspirator, a worn-out debauchee of thirty; insinuating and + enterprising. + </p> + <p> + SACCO, a conspirator, forty-five years of age, with no distinguishing + trait of character. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO, in the confidence of the pretender, a haggard courtier. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE, | ZIBO, | Malcontents. ASSERATO, | + </p> + <p> + ROMANO, a painter, frank and simple, with the pride of genius. + </p> + <p> + MULEY HASSAN, a Moor of Tunis, an abandoned character, with a physiognomy + displaying an original mixture of rascality and humor. + </p> + <p> + A GERMAN of the ducal body-guard, of an honest simplicity, and steady + bravery. + </p> + <p> + THREE SEDITIOUS CITIZENS. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA, the wife of Fiesco, eighteen years of age, of great sensibility; + her appearance pale and slender, engaging, but not dazzling; her + countenance marked with melancholy; her dress black. + </p> + <p> + JULIA, Countess dowager Imperiali, sister of the younger Doria, aged + twenty-five; a proud coquette, in person tall and full, her beauty spoiled + by affectation, with a sarcastic maliciousness in her countenance; her + dress black. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA, daughter of Verrina, an innocent girl. + </p> + <p> + ROSA, | Maids of Leonora. ARABELLA, | + </p> + <p> + Several Nobles, Citizens, Germans, Soldiers, Thieves. + </p> + <p> + (SCENE—Genoa. TIME—the year 1547.) + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ACT I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ACT II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT V. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE I. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +A Saloon in FIESCO'S House. The distant sound of dancing and +music is heard. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA, masked, and attended by ROSA and ARABELLA, enters hastily. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (tears off her mask). No more! Not another word! 'Tis as clear as + day! (Throwing herself in a chair.) This quite overcomes me—— + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. My lady! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (rising.) What, before my eyes! with a notorious coquette! In + presence of the whole nobility of Genoa! (strongly affected.)—Rosa! + Arabella! and before my weeping eyes! + </p> + <p> + ROSA. Look upon it only as what it really was—a piece of gallantry. + It was nothing more. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Gallantry! What! Their busy interchange of glances—the + anxious watching of her every motion—the long and eager kiss upon + her naked arm, impressed with a fervor that left in crimson glow the very + traces of his lips! Ha! and the transport that enwrapped his soul, when, + with fixed eyes, he sate like painted ecstacy, as if the world around him + had dissolved, and naught remained in the eternal void but he and Julia. + Gallantry? Poor thing! Thou hast never loved. Think not that thou canst + teach me to distinguish gallantry from love! + </p> + <p> + ROSA. No matter, Signora! A husband lost is as good as ten lovers gained. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Lost? Is then one little intermission of the heart's pulsations a + proof that I have lost Fiesco? Go, malicious slanderer! Come no more into + my presence! 'Twas an innocent frolic—perhaps a mere piece of + gallantry. Say, my gentle Arabella, was it not so? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Most certainly! There can be no doubt of it! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (in a reverie). But does she then feel herself sole mistress of + his heart? Does her name lurk in his every thought?—meet him in + every phase of nature? Can it be? Whither will these thoughts lead me? Is + this beautiful and majestic world to him but as one precious diamond, on + which her image—her image alone—is engraved? That he should + love her? —love Julia! Oh! Your arm—support me, Arabella! (A + pause; music is again heard.) + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (starting). Hark! Was not that Fiesco's voice, which from the + tumult penetrated even hither? Can he laugh while his Leonora weeps in + solitude? Oh, no, my child, it was the coarse, loud voice of Gianettino. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. It was, Signora—but let us retire to another apartment. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. You change color, Arabella—you are false. In your looks, in + the looks of all the inhabitants of Genoa, I read a something—a + something which—(hiding her face)—oh, certainly these Genoese + know more than should reach a wife's ear. + </p> + <p> + ROSA. Oh, jealousy! thou magnifier of trifles! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (with melancholy enthusiasm). When he was still Fiesco; when in + the orange-grove, where we damsels walked, I saw him—a blooming + Apollo, blending the manly beauty of Antinous! Such was his noble and + majestic deportment, as if the illustrious state of Genoa rested alone + upon his youthful shoulders. Our eyes stole trembling glances at him, and + shrunk back, as if with conscious guilt, whene'er they encountered the + lightning of his looks. Ah, Arabella, how we devoured those looks! with + what anxious envy did every one count those directed to her companions! + They fell among us like the golden apple of discord—tender eyes + burned fiercely—soft bosoms beat tumultuously—jealousy burst + asunder all our bonds of friendship—— + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. I remember it well. All Genoa's female hearts were in rebellious + ferment for so enviable a prize! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (in rapture). And now to call him mine! Giddy, wondrous fortune!—to + call the pride of Genoa mine!—he who from the chisel of the + exhaustless artist, Nature, sprang forth all-perfect, combining every + greatness of his sex in the most perfect union. Hear me, damsels! I can no + longer conceal it—hear me! I confide to you something (mysteriously)—a + thought!—when I stood at the altar with Fiesco,—when his hand + lay in mine,—a thought, too daring for woman, rushed across me. + "This Fiesco, whose hand now lies in thine—thy Fiesco"—but + hush! let no man hear us boast how far he excels all others of his sex. + "This, thy Fiesco"—ah, could you but share my feelings!—"will + free Genoa from its tyrants!" + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA (astonished). And could this dream haunt a woman's mind even at + the nuptial shrine? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Yes, my Arabella,—well mayest thou be astonished—to + the bride it came, even in the joy of the bridal hour (more animated). I + am a woman, but I feel the nobleness of my blood. I cannot bear to see + these proud Dorias thus overtop our family. The good old Andreas—it + is a pleasure to esteem him. He may indeed, unenvied, bear the ducal + dignity; but Gianettino is his nephew—his heir—and Gianettino + has a proud and wicked heart. Genoa trembles before him, and Fiesco (much + affected)— Fiesco—weep with me, damsels!—loves his + sister. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Alas, my wretched mistress! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Go now, and see this demi-god of the Genoese—amid the + shameless circles of debauchery and lust! hear the vile jests and wanton + ribaldry with which he entertains his base companions! That is Fiesco! Ah, + damsels, not only has Genoa lost its hero, but I have lost my husband! + </p> + <p> + ROSA. Speak lower! some one is coming through the gallery. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (alarmed). Ha! 'Tis Fiesco—let us hasten away—the + sight of me might for a moment interrupt his happiness. (She hastens into + a side apartment; the maids follow.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE II + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GIANETTINO DORIA, masked, in a green cloak, and the MOOR, + enter in conversation. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Thou hast understood me! + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Well—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. The white mask—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Well—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. I say, the white mask—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Well—well—well—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Dost thou mark me? Thou canst only fail here! (pointing to his + heart). + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Give yourself no concern. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. And be sure to strike home—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR. He shall have enough. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (maliciously). That the poor count may not have long to suffer. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. With your leave, sir, a word—at what weight do you estimate + his head? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. What weight? A hundred sequins—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR (blowing through his fingers). Poh! Light as a feather! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. What art thou muttering? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. I was saying—it is light work. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. That is thy concern. He is the very loadstone of sedition. + Mark me, sirrah! let thy blow be sure. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. But, sir,—I must fly to Venice immediately after the deed. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Then take my thanks beforehand. (He throws him a bank-note.) + In three days at farthest he must be cold. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + MOOR (picking up the note). Well, this really is what I call credit to + trust—the simple word of such a rogue as I am! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE III. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CALCAGNO, behind him SACCO, both in black cloaks. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I perceive thou watchest all my steps. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. And I observe thou wouldst conceal them from me. Attend, Calcagno! + For some weeks past I have remarked the workings of thy countenance. They + bespeak more than concerns the interests of our country. Brother, I should + think that we might mutually exchange our confidence without loss on + either side. What sayest thou? Wilt thou be sincere? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. So truly, that thou shalt not need to dive into the recesses of + my soul; my heart shall fly half-way to meet thee on my tongue—I + love the Countess of Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + SACCO (starts back with astonishment). That, at least, I should not have + discovered had I made all possibilities pass in review before me. My wits + are racked to comprehend thy choice, but I must have lost them altogether + if thou succeed. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. They say she is a pattern of the strictest virtue. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. They lie. She is the whole volume on that insipid text. Calcagno, + thou must choose one or the other—either to give up thy heart or thy + profession. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. The Count is faithless to her; and of all the arts that may + seduce a woman the subtlest is jealousy. A plot against the Dorias will at + the same time occupy the Count, and give me easy access to his house. + Thus, while the shepherd guards against the wolf, the fox shall make havoc + of the poultry. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Incomparable brother, receive my thanks! A blush is now + superfluous, and I can tell thee openly what just now I was ashamed even + to think. I am a beggar if the government be not soon overturned. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. What, are thy debts so great? + </p> + <p> + SACCO. So immense that even one-tenth of them would more than swallow ten + times my income. A convulsion of the state will give me breath; and if it + do not cancel all my debts, at least 'twill stop the mouths of bawling + creditors. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I understand thee; and if then, perchance, Genoa should be + freed, Sacco will be hailed his country's savior. Let no one trick out to + me the threadbare tale of honesty, if the fate of empires hang on the + bankruptcy of a prodigal and the lust of a debauchee. By heaven, Sacco, I + admire the wise design of Providence, that in us would heal the + corruptions in the heart of the state by the vile ulcers on its limbs. Is + thy design unfolded to Verrina? + </p> + <p> + SACCO. As far as it can be unfolded to a patriot. Thou knowest his iron + integrity, which ever tends to that one point, his country. His hawk-like + eye is now fixed on Fiesco, and he has half-conceived a hope of thee to + join the bold conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Oh, he has an excellent nose! Come, let us seek him, and fan the + flame of liberty in his breast by our accordant spirit. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE IV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JULIA, agitated with anger, and FIESCO, in a white mask, + following her. +</pre> + <p> + JULIA. Servants! footmen! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Countess, whither are you going? What do you intend? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Nothing—nothing at all. (To the servants, who enter and + immediately retire.) Let my carriage draw up—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Pardon me, it must not. You are offended. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Oh, by no means. Away—you tear my dress to pieces. Offended. + Who is here that can offend me? Go, pray go. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (upon one knee). Not till you tell me what impertinent—— + </p> + <p> + JULIA (stands still in a haughty attitude). Fine! Fine! Admirable! Oh, + that the Countess of Lavagna might be called to view this charming scene! + How, Count, is this like a husband? This posture would better suit the + chamber of your wife when she turns over the journal of your caresses and + finds a void in the account. Rise, sir, and seek those to whom your + overtures will prove more acceptable. Rise—unless you think your + gallantries will atone for your wife's impertinence. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (jumping up). Impertinence! To you? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. To break up! To push away her chair! To turn her back upon the + table—that table, Count, where I was sitting—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. 'Tis inexcusable. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. And is that all? Out upon the jade! Am I, then, to blame because + the Count makes use of his eyes? (Smilingly admiring herself.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. 'Tis the fault of your beauty, madam, that keeps them in such + sweet slavery. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Away with compliment where honor is concerned. Count, I insist on + satisfaction. Where shall I find it, in you, or in my uncle's vengeance? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Find it in the arms of love—of love that would repair the + offence of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Jealousy! Jealousy! Poor thing! What would she wish for? (Admiring + herself in the glass.) Could she desire a higher compliment than were I to + declare her taste my own? (Haughtily.) Doria and Fiesco! Would not the + Countess of Lavagna have reason to feel honored if Doria's niece deigned + to envy her choice? (In a friendly tone, offering the Count her hand to + kiss.) I merely assume the possibility of such a case, Count. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with animation). Cruel Countess! Thus to torment me. I know, + divine Julia, that respect is all I ought to feel for you. My reason bids + me bend a subject's knee before the race of Doria; but my heart adores the + beauteous Julia. My love is criminal, but 'tis also heroic, and dares + o'erleap the boundaries of rank, and soar towards the dazzling sun of + majesty. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. A great and courtly falsehood, paraded upon stilts! While his + tongue deifies me, his heart beats beneath the picture of another. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Rather say it beats indignantly against it, and would shake off + the odious burden. (Taking the picture of LEONORA, which is suspended by a + sky-blue ribbon from his breast, and delivering it to JULIA.) Place your + own image on that altar and you will instantly annihilate this idol. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (pleased, puts by the picture hastily). A great sacrifice, by mine + honor, and which deserves my thanks. (Hangs her own picture about his + neck.) So, my slave, henceforth bear your badge of service. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (with transport). Julia loves me! Julia! I envy not even the gods. + (Exulting.) Let this night be a jubilee. Joy shall attain its summit. Ho! + within there! (Servants come running in.) Let the floors swim with Cyprian + nectar, soft strains of music rouse midnight from her leaden slumber, and + a thousand burning lamps eclipse the morning sun. Pleasure shall reign + supreme, and the Bacchanal dance so wildly beat the ground that the dark + kingdom of the shades below shall tremble at the uproar! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit hastily. A noisy allegro, during which the back scene opens, + and discovers a grand illuminated saloon, many masks—dancing. At + the side, drinking and playing tables, surrounded with company. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE V. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GIANETTINO, almost intoxicated, LOMELLINO, ZIBO, ZENTURIONE, + VERRINA, CALCAGNO, all masked. Several other nobles and ladies. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO (boisterously). Bravo! Bravo! These wines glide down + charmingly. The dancers perform a merveille. Go, one of you, and publish + it throughout Genoa that I am in good humor, and that every one may enjoy + himself. By my ruling star this shall be marked as a red-letter day in the + calendar, and underneath be written,—"This day was Prince Doria + merry." (The guests lift their glasses to their mouths. A general toast of + "The Republic." Sound of trumpets.) The Republic? (Throwing his glass + violently on the ground.) There lie its fragments. (Three black masks + suddenly rise and collect about GIANETTINO.) + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (supporting GIANETTINO on his arm). My lord, you lately spoke of + a young girl whom you saw in the church of St. Lorenzo. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. I did, my lad! and I must make her acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. That I can manage for your grace. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (with vehemence). Can you? Can you? Lomellino, you were a + candidate for the procuratorship. You shall have it. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Gracious prince, it is the second dignity in the state; more + than threescore noblemen seek it, and all of them more wealthy and + honorable than your grace's humble servant. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (indignantly). By the name of Doria! You shall be procurator. + (The three masks come forward). What talk you of nobility in Genoa? Let + them all throw their ancestry and honors into the scale, one hair from the + white beard of my old uncle will make it kick the beam. It is my will that + you be procurator, and that is tantamount to the votes of the whole + senate. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (in a low voice). The damsel is the only daughter of one + Verrina. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. The girl is pretty, and, in spite of all the devils in hell, I + must possess her. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. What, my lord! the only child of the most obstinate of our + republicans? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. To hell with your republicans! Shall my passion be thwarted by + the anger of a vassal? 'Tis as vain as to expect the tower should fall + when the boys pelt it with mussel-shells. (The three black masks step + nearer, with great emotion.) What! Has the Duke Andreas gained his scars + in battle for their wives and children, only that his nephew should court + the favor of these vagabond republicans! By the name of Doria they shall + swallow this fancy of mine, or I will plant a gallows over the bones of my + uncle, on which their Genoese liberty shall kick itself to death. (The + three masks step back in disgust.) + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. The damsel is at this moment alone. Her father is here, and one + of those three masks. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Excellent! Bring me instantly to her. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. But you will seek in her a mistress, and find a prude. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Force is the best rhetoric. Lead me to her. Would I could see + that republican dog that durst stand in the way of the bear Doria. (Going, + meets FIESCO at the door.) Where is the Countess? + </p> + <p> + SCENE VI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO and the former. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. I have handed her to her carriage. (Takes GIANETTINO'S hand, and + presses it to his breast.) Prince, I am now doubly your slave. To you I + bow, as sovereign of Genoa—to your lovely sister, as mistress of my + heart. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Fiesco has become a mere votary of pleasure. The great world + has lost much in you. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But Fiesco has lost nothing in giving up the world. To live is to + dream, and to dream pleasantly is to be wise. Can this be done more + certainly amid the thunders of a throne, where the wheels of government + creak incessantly upon the tortured ear, than on the heaving bosom of an + enamored woman? Let Gianettino rule over Genoa; Fiesco shall devote + himself to love. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Away, Lomellino! It is near midnight. The time draws near + —Lavagna, we thank thee for thy entertainment—I have been + satisfied. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That, prince, is all that I can wish. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Then good-night! To-morrow we have a party at the palace, and + Fiesco is invited. Come, procurator! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Ho! Lights there! Music! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (haughtily, rushing through the three masks). Make way there + for Doria! + </p> + <p> + ONE OF THE THREE MASKS (murmuring indignantly). Make way? In hell! Never + in Genoa! + </p> + <p> + THE GUESTS (in motion). The prince is going. Good night, Lavagna! (They + depart.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The THREE BLACK MASKS and FIESCO. (A pause.) +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. I perceive some guests here who do not share the pleasure of the + feast. + </p> + <p> + MASKS (murmuring to each other with indignation). No! Not one of us. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (courteously). Is it possible that my attention should have been + wanting to any one of my guests? Quick, servants! Let the music be + renewed, and fill the goblets to the brim. I would not that my friends + should find the time hang heavy. Will you permit me to amuse you with + fireworks. Would you choose to see the frolics of my harlequin? Perhaps + you would be pleased to join the ladies. Or shall we sit down to faro, and + pass the time in play? + </p> + <p> + A MASK. We are accustomed to spend it in action. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. A manly answer—such as bespeaks Verrina. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (unmasking). Fiesco is quicker to discover his friends beneath + their masks than they to discover him beneath his. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I understand you not. But what means that crape of mourning around + your arm? Can death have robbed Verrina of a friend, and Fiesco not know + the loss? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Mournful tales ill suit Fiesco's joyful feasts. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But if a friend—(pressing his hand warmly.) Friend of my + soul! For whom must we both mourn? + </p> + <p> + VRRRINA. Both! both! Oh, 'tis but too true we both should mourn—yet + not all sons lament their mother. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. 'Tis long since your mother was mingled with the dust. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with an earnest look). I do remember me that Fiesco once called + me brother, because we both were sons of the same country! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (jocosely). Oh, is it only that? You meant then but to jest? The + mourning dress is worn for Genoa! True, she lies indeed in her last + agonies. The thought is new and singular. Our cousin begins to be a wit. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Fiesco! I spoke most seriously. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Certainly—certainly. A jest loses its point when he who + makes it is the first to laugh. But you! You looked like a mute at a + funeral. Who could have thought that the austere Verrina should in his old + age become such a wag! + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Come, Verrina. He never will be ours. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Be merry, brother. Let us act the part of the cunning heir, who + walks in the funeral procession with loud lamentations, laughing to + himself the while, under the cover of his handkerchief. 'Tis true we may + be troubled with a harsh step-mother. Be it so—we will let her + scold, and follow our own pleasures. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with great emotion). Heaven and earth! Shall we then do nothing? + What is to become of you, Fiesco? Where am I to seek that determined enemy + of tyrants? There was a time when but to see a crown would have been + torture to you. Oh, fallen son of the republic! By heaven, if time could + so debase my soul I would spurn immortality. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. O rigid censor! Let Doria put Genoa in his pocket, or barter it + with the robbers of Tunis. Why should it trouble us? We will drown + ourselves in floods of Cyprian wine, and revel it in the sweet caresses of + our fair ones. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (looking at him with earnestness). Are these indeed your serious + thoughts? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Why should they not be, my friend? Think you 'tis a pleasure to be + the foot of that many-legged monster, a republic? No—thanks be to + him who gives it wings, and deprives the feet of their functions! Let + Gianettino be the duke, affairs of state shall ne'er lie heavy on our + heads. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Fiesco! Is that truly and seriously your meaning? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Andreas adopts his nephew as a son, and makes him heir to his + estates; what madman will dispute with him the inheritance of his power? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with the utmost indignation). Away, then, Genoese! (Leaves FIESCO + hastily, the rest follow.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Verrina! Verrina! Oh, this republican is as hard as steel! + </p> + <p> + SCENE VIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO. A MASK entering. +</pre> + <p> + MASK. Have you a minute or two to spare, Lavagna? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (in an obliging manner). An hour if you request it. + </p> + <p> + MASK. Then condescend to walk into the fields with me. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. It wants but ten minutes of midnight. + </p> + <p> + MASK. Walk with me, Count, I pray. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I will order my carriage. + </p> + <p> + MASK. That is useless—I shall send one horse: we want no more, for + only one of us, I hope, will return. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with surprise). What say you? + </p> + <p> + MASK. A bloody answer will be demanded of you, touching a certain tear. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. What tear? + </p> + <p> + MASK. A tear shed by the Countess of Lavagna. I am acquainted with that + lady, and demand to know how she has merited to be sacrificed to a + worthless woman? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I understand you now; but let me ask who 'tis that offers so + strange a challenge? + </p> + <p> + MASK. It is the same that once adored the lady Zibo, and yielded her to + Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Scipio Bourgognino! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (unmasking). And who now stands here to vindicate his honor, + that yielded to a rival base enough to tyrannize over innocence. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (embraces him with ardor). Noble youth! thanks to the sufferings of + my consort, which have drawn forth the manly feelings of your soul; I + admire your generous indignation—but I refuse your challenge. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (stepping back). Does Fiesco tremble to encounter the first + efforts of my sword? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. No, Bourgognino! against a nation's power combined I would boldly + venture, but not against you. The fire of your valor is endeared to me by + a most lovely object—the will deserves a laurel, but the deed would + be childish. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (with emotion). Childish, Count! women can only weep at + injuries. 'Tis for men to revenge them. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Uncommonly well said—but fight I will not. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (turning upon him contemptuously). Count, I shall despise you. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with animation). By heaven, youth, that thou shalt never do—not + even if virtue fall in value, shall I become a bankrupt. (Taking him by + the hand, with a look of earnestness.) Did you ever feel for me—what + shall I say—respect? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Had I not thought you were the first of men I should not have + yielded to you. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Then, my friend, be not so forward to despise a man who once could + merit your respect. It is not for the eye of the youthful artist to + comprehend at once the master's vast design. Retire, Bourgognino, and take + time to weigh the motives of Fiesco's conduct! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit BOURGOGNINO, in silence. +</pre> + <p> + Go! noble youth! if spirits such as thine break out in flames in thy + country's cause, let the Dorias see that they stand fast! + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="2pa298 (142K)" src="images/2pa298.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> SCENE IX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO.—The MOOR entering with an appearance of timidity, + and looking round cautiously. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (fixing his eye on him sharply). What wouldst thou here? Who art + thou? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (as above). A slave of the republic. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (keeping his eye sharply upon him). Slavery is a wretched craft. + What dost thou seek? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Sir, I am an honest man. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Wear then that label on thy visage, it will not be superfluous— + but what wouldst thou have? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (approaching him, FIESCO draws back). Sir, I am no villain. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. 'Tis well thou hast told me that—and yet—'tis not well + either (impatiently). What dost thou seek? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (still approaching). Are you the Count Lavagna? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (haughtily). The blind in Genoa know my steps—what wouldst + thou with the Count? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (close to him). Be on your guard, Lavagna! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (passing hastily to the other side). That, indeed, I am. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (again approaching). Evil designs are formed against you, Count. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (retreating). That I perceive. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Beware of Doria! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (approaching him with an air of confidence). Perhaps my suspicions + have wronged thee, my friend—Doria is indeed the name I dread. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Avoid the man, then. Can you read? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. A curious question! Thou hast known, it seems, many of our + cavaliers. What writing hast thou? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Your name is amongst other condemned sinners. (Presents a paper, and + draws close to FIESCO, who is standing before a looking-glass and glancing + over the paper—the MOOR steals round him, draws a dagger, and is + going to stab.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (turning round dexterously, and seizing the MOOR'S arm.) Stop, + scoundrel! (Wrests the dagger from him.) + </p> + <p> + MOOR (stamps in a frantic manner). Damnation! Your pardon—sire! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (seizing him, calls with a loud voice). Stephano! Drullo! Antonio! + (holding the MOOR by the throat.) Stay, my friend!—what hellish + villany! (Servants enter.) Stay, and answer—thou hast performed thy + task like a bungler. Who pays thy wages? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (after several fruitless attempts to escape). You cannot hang me + higher than the gallows are—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. No—be comforted—not on the horns of the moon, but + higher than ever yet were gallows—yet hold! Thy scheme was too + politic to be of thy own contrivance speak, fellow! who hired thee? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Think me a rascal, sir, but not a fool. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. What, is the scoundrel proud? Speak, sirrah! Who hired thee? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (aside). Shall I alone be called a fool? Who hired me? 'Twas but a + hundred miserable sequins. Who hired me, did you ask? Prince Gianettino. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (walking about in a passion). A hundred sequins? And is that all + the value set upon Fiesco's head? Shame on thee, Prince of Genoa! Here, + fellow (taking money from an escritoire), are a thousand for thee. Tell + thy master he is a niggardly assassin. (MOOR looks at him with + astonishment.) What dost thou gaze at? (MOOR takes up the money—lays + it down—takes it up again, and looks at FIESCO with increased + astonishment). What dost thou mean? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (throwing the money resolutely upon the table). Sir, that money I + have not earned—I deserve it not. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Blockhead, thou hast deserved the gallows; but the offended + elephant tramples on men not on worms. Were thy life worth but two words I + would have thee hanged. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (bowing with an air of pleasure at his escape). Sir, you are too good—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Not towards thee! God forbid! No. I am amused to think my humor + can make or unmake such a villain as thou, therefore dost thou go + scot-free—understand me aright—I take thy failure as an omen + of my future greatness—'tis this thought that renders me indulgent, + and preserves thy life. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (in a tone of confidence). Count, your hand! honor for honor. If any + man in this country has a throat too much—command me, and I'll cut + it—gratis. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Obliging scoundrel! He would show his gratitude by cutting throats + wholesale! + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Men like me, sir, receive no favor without acknowledgment. We know + what honor is. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The honor of cut-throats? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Which is, perhaps, more to be relied on than that of your men of + character. They break their oaths made in the name of God. We keep ours + pledged to the devil. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Thou art an amusing villain. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. I rejoice to meet your approbation. Try me; you will find in me a + man who is a thorough master of his profession. Examine me; I can show my + testimonials of villany from every guild of rogues—from the lowest + to the highest. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Indeed! (seating himself.) There are laws and systems then even + among thieves. What canst thou tell me of the lowest class? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Oh, sir, they are petty villains, mere pick-pockets. They are a + miserable set. Their trade never produces a man of genius; 'tis confined + to the whip and workhouse—and at most can lead but to the gallows. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. A charming prospect! I should like to hear something of a superior + class. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. The next are spies and informers—tools of importance to the + great, who from their secret information derive their own supposed + omniscience. These villains insinuate themselves into the souls of men + like leeches; they draw poison from the heart, and spit it forth against + the very source from whence it came. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I understand thee—go on—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Then come the conspirators, villains that deal in poison, and + bravoes that rush upon their victims from some secret covert. Cowards they + often are, but yet fellows that sell their souls to the devil as the fees + of their apprenticeship. The hand of justice binds their limbs to the rack + or plants their cunning heads on spikes—this is the third class. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But tell me! When comes thy own? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Patience, my lord—that is the very point I'm coming to—I + have already passed through all the stages that I mentioned: my genius + soon soared above their limits. 'Twas but last night I performed my + masterpiece in the third; this evening I attempted the fourth, and proved + myself a bungler. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. And how do you describe that class? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (with energy). They are men who seek their prey within four walls, + cutting their way through every danger. They strike at once, and, by their + first salute, save him whom they approach the trouble of returning thanks + for a second. Between ourselves they are called the express couriers of + hell: and when Beelzebub is hungry they want but a wink, and he gets his + mutton warm. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Thou art an hardened villain—such a tool I want. Give me thy + hand—thou shalt serve me. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Jest or earnest? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. In full earnest—and I'll pay thee yearly a 'thousand + sequins. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Done, Lavagna! I am yours. Away with common business—employ me + in whate'er you will. I'll be your setter or your bloodhound—your + fox, your viper—your pimp, or executioner. I'm prepared for all + commissions —except honest ones; in those I am as stupid as a block. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fear not! I would not set the wolf to guard the lamb. Go thou + through Genoa to-morrow and sound the temper of the people. Narrowly + inquire what they think of the government, and of the house of Doria— + what of me, my debaucheries, and romantic passion. Flood their brains with + wine, until the sentiments of the heart flow over. Here's money— + lavish it among the manufacturers—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Sir! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Be not afraid—no honesty is in the case. Go, collect what + help thou canst. To-morrow I will hear thy report. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + MOOR (following). Rely on me. It is now four o'clock in the morning, by + eight to-morrow you shall hear as much news as twice seventy spies can + furnish. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE X. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + An apartment in the house of VERRINA. + + BERTHA on a couch, supporting her head on her hand— + + VERRINA enters with a look of dejection. +</pre> + <p> + BERTHA (starts up frightened). Heavens! He is here! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (stops, looking at her with surprise). My daughter affrighted at + her father! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Fly! fly! or let me fly! Father, your sight is dreadful to me! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Dreadful to my child!—my only child! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (looking at him mournfully). Oh! you must seek another. I am no + more your daughter. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. What, does my tenderness distress you? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. It weighs me down to the earth. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. How, my daughter! do you receive me thus? Formerly, when I came + home, my heart o'erburdened with sorrows, my Bertha came running towards + me, and chased them away with her smiles. Come, embrace me, my daughter! + Reclined upon thy glowing bosom, my heart, when chilled by the sufferings + of my country, shall grow warm again. Oh, my child! this day I have closed + my account with the joys of this world, and thou alone (sighing heavily) + remainest to me. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (casting a long and earnest look at him). Wretched father! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (eagerly embracing her). Bertha! my only child! Bertha! my last + remaining hope! The liberty of Genoa is lost—Fiesco is lost—and + thou (pressing her more strongly, with a look of despair) mayest be + dishonored! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (tearing herself from him). Great God! You know, then—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (trembling). What? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. My virgin honor—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (raging). What? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Last night—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (furiously.) Speak! What! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Force. (Sinks down upon the side of the sofa.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (after a long pause, with a hollow voice). One word more, my + daughter—thy last! Who was it? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Alas, what an angry deathlike paleness! Great God, support me! How + his words falter! His whole frame trembles! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I cannot comprehend it. Tell me, my daughter—who? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Compose yourself, my best, my dearest father! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (ready to faint). For God's sake—who? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. A mask—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (steps back, thoughtfully). No! That cannot be!—the thought + is idle—(smiling to himself ). What a fool am I to think that all + the poison of my life can flow but from one source! (Firmly addressing + himself to BERTHA.) What was his stature, less than mine or taller? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Taller. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (eagerly). His hair? Black, and curled? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. As black as jet and curled? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (retiring from her in great emotion). O God! my brain! my brain! + His voice? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Was deep and harsh. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (impetuously). What color was—No! I'll hear no more! 'His + cloak! What color? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. I think his cloak was green. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (covering his face with his hands, falls on the couch). No more. + This can be nothing but a dream! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (wringing her hands). Merciful heaven! Is this my father? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (after a pause, with a forced smile). Right! It serves thee right—coward + Verrina! The villain broke into the sanctuary of the laws. This did not + rouse thee. Then he violated the sanctuary of thy honor (starting up). + Quick! Nicolo! Bring balls and powder—but stay—my sword were + better. (To BERTHA.) Say thy prayers! Ah! what am I going to do? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Father, you make me tremble—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Come, sit by me, Bertha! (in a solemn manner.) Tell me, Bertha, + what did that hoary-headed Roman, when his daughter—like you— + how can I speak it! fell a prey to ignominy? Tell me, Bertha, what said + Virginius to his dishonored daughter? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (shuddering). I know not. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Foolish girl! He said nothing—but (rising hastily and + snatching up a sword) he seized an instrument of death—— + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (terrified, rushes into his arms). Great God! What would you do, my + father? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (throwing away the sword). No! There is still justice left in + Genoa. + </p> + <p> + SCENE XI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SACCO, CALCAGNO, the former. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Verrina, quick! prepare! to-day begins the election week of the + republic. Let us early to the Senate House to choose the new senators. The + streets are full of people, you will undoubtedly accompany us (ironically) + to behold the triumph of our liberty. + </p> + <p> + SACCO (to CALCAGNO). But what do I see? A naked sword! Verrina staring + wildly! Bertha in tears! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. By heavens, it is so. Sacco! some strange event has happened + here. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (placing two chairs). Be seated. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Your looks, Verrina, fill us with apprehension. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I never saw you thus before—Bertha is in tears, or your + grief would have seemed to presage our country's ruin. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Ruin! Pray sit down. (They both seat themselves.) + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. My friend, I conjure you—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Listen to me. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (to SACCO). I have sad misgivings. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Genoese! you both know the antiquity of my family. Your ancestors + were vassals to my own. My forefathers fought the battles of the state, + their wives were patterns of virtue. Honor was our sole inheritance, + descending unspotted from the father to the son. Can any one deny it? + </p> + <p> + SACCO. No. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. No one, by the God of heaven! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I am the last of my family. My wife has long been dead. This + daughter is all she left me. You are witnesses, my friends, how I have + brought her up. Can anyone accuse me of neglect? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. No. Your daughter is a bright example to her sex. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I am old, my friends. On this one daughter all my hopes were + placed. Should I lose her, my race becomes extinct. (After a pause, with a + solemn voice). I have lost her. My family is dishonored. + </p> + <p> + SACCO and CALCAGNO. Forbid it, heaven! (BERTHA on the couch, appears much + affected.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. No. Despair not, daughter! These men are just and brave. If they + feel thy wrongs they will expiate them with blood. Be not astonished, + friends! He who tramples upon Genoa may easily overcome a helpless female. + </p> + <p> + SACCO and CALCAGNO (starting up with emotion). Gianettino Doria! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (with a shriek, seeing BOURGOGNINO enter). Cover me, walls, beneath + your ruins! My Scipio! + </p> + <p> + SCENE XII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOURGOGNINO—the former. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (with ardor). Rejoice, my love! I bring good tidings. Noble + Verrina, my heaven now depends upon a word from you. I have long loved + your daughter, but never dared to ask her hand, because my whole fortune + was intrusted to the treacherous sea. My ships have just now reached the + harbor laden with valuable cargoes. Now I am rich. Bestow your Bertha on + me—I will make her happy. (BERTHA hides her face—a profound + pause.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. What, youth! Wouldst thou mix thy heart's pure tide with a + polluted stream? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (clasps his hand to his sword, but suddenly draws it back). + 'Twas her father said it. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. No—every rascal in Italy will say it. Are you contented + with the leavings of other men's repasts? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Old man, do not make me desperate. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Bourgognino! he speaks the truth. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (enraged, rushing towards BERTHA). The truth? Has the girl + then mocked me? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. No! no! Bourgognino. The girl is spotless as an angel. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (astonished). By my soul's happiness, I comprehend it not! + Spotless, yet dishonored! They look in silence on each other. Some horrid + crime hangs on their trembling tongues. I conjure you, friends, mock not + thus my reason. Is she pure? Is she truly so? Who answers for her? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. My child is guiltless. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. What! Violence! (Snatches the sword from the ground.) Be all + the sins of earth upon my bead if I avenge her not! Where is the spoiler? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Seek him in the plunderer of Genoa! (BOURGOGNINO struck with + astonishment—VERRINA walks up and down the room in deep thought, + then stops.) If rightly I can trace thy counsels, O eternal Providence! it + is thy will to make my daughter the instrument of Genoa's deliverance. + (Approaching her slowly, takes the mourning crape from his arm, and + proceeds in a solemn manner.) Before the heart's blood of Doria shall wash + away this foul stain from thy honor no beam of daylight shall shine upon + these cheeks. Till then (throwing the crape over her) be blind! (A pause—the + rest look upon him with silent astonishment; he continues solemnly, his + hand upon BERTHA'S head.) Cursed be the air that shall breathe on thee! + Cursed the sleep that shall refresh thee! Cursed every human step that + shall come to sooth thy misery! Down, into the lowest vault beneath my + house! There whine, and cry aloud! (pausing with inward horror.) Be thy + life painful as the tortures of the writhing worm— agonizing as the + stubborn conflict between existence and annihilation. This curse lie on + thee till Gianettino shall have heaved forth his dying breath. If he + escape his punishment, then mayest thou drag thy load of misery throughout + the endless circle of eternity! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [A deep silence—horror is marked on the countenances of all + present. VERRINA casts a scrutinizing look at each of them. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Inhuman father! What is it thou hast done? Why pour forth + this horrible and monstrous curse against thy guiltless daughter? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Youth, thou say'st true!—it is most horrible. Now who among + you will stand forth and prate still of patience and delay? My daughter's + fate is linked with that of Genoa. I sacrifice the affections of a father + to the duties of a citizen. Who among us is so much a coward as to + hesitate in the salvation of his country, when this poor guiltless being + must pay for his timidity with endless sufferings? By heavens, 'twas not a + madman's speech! I have sworn an oath, and till Doria lie in the agonies + of death I will show no mercy to my child. No—not though, like an + executioner, I should invent unheard-of torments for her, or with my own + hands rend her innocent frame piecemeal on the barbarous rack. You shudder—you + stare at me with ghastly faces. Once more, Scipio—I keep her as a + hostage for the tyrant's death. Upon this precious thread do I suspend thy + duty, my own, and yours (to SACCO and CALCAGNO). The tyrant of Genoa + falls, or Bertha must despair—I retract not. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (throwing himself at BERTHA'S feet). He shall fall—shall + fall a victim to Genoa. I will as surely sheathe this sword in Doria's + heart as upon thy lips I will imprint the bridal kiss. (Rises.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Ye couple, the first that ever owed their union to the Furies, + join hands! Thou wilt sheathe thy sword in Doria's heart? Take her! she is + thine! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (kneeling). Here kneels another citizen of Genoa and lays his + faithful sword before the feet of innocence. As surely may Calcagno find + the way to heaven as this steel shall find its way to Gianettino's heart! + (Rises.) + </p> + <p> + SACCO (kneeling). Last, but not less determined, Raffaelle Sacco kneels. + If this bright steel unlock not the prison doors of Bertha, mayest thou, + my Saviour, shut thine ear against my dying prayers! (Rises.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with a calm look). Through me Genoa thanks you. Now go, my + daughter; rejoice to be the mighty sacrifice for thy country! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (embracing her as she is departing). Go! confide in God—and + Bourgognino. The same day shall give freedom to Bertha and to Genoa. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [BERTHA retires. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former—without BERTHA. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Genoese, before we take another step, one word—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I guess what you would say. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Will four patriots alone be sufficient to destroy this mighty + hydra? Shall we not stir up the people to rebellion, or draw the nobles in + to join our party? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I understand you. Now hear my advice; I have long engaged a + painter who has been exerting all his skill to paint the fall of Appius + Claudius. Fiesco is an adorer of the arts, and soon warmed by ennobling + scenes. We will send this picture to his house, and will be present when + he contemplates it. Perhaps the sight may rouse his dormant spirit. + Perhaps—— + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. No more of him. Increase the danger, not the sharers in it. + So valor bids. Long have I felt a something within my breast that nothing + would appease. What 'twas now bursts upon me (springing up with + enthusiasm); 'twas a tyrant! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [The scene closes. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE I.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + An Ante-chamber in the Palace of FIESCO. + + LEONORA and ARABELLA. +</pre> + <p> + ARABELLA. No, no, you were mistaken: your eyes were blinded by jealousy. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. It was Julia to the life. Seek not to persuade me otherwise. My + picture was suspended by a sky-blue ribbon: this was flame-colored. My + doom is fixed irrevocably. + </p> + <p> + SCENE II. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former and JULIA. +</pre> + <p> + JULIA (entering in an affected manner). The Count offered me his palace to + see the procession to the senate-house. The time will be tedious. You will + entertain me, madam, while the chocolate is preparing. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [ARABELLA goes out, and returns soon afterwards. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA. Do you wish that I should invite company to meet you? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Ridiculous! As if I should come hither in search of company. You + will amuse me, madam (walking up and down, and admiring herself ), if you + are able, madam. At any rate I shall lose nothing. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA (sarcastically). Your splendid dress alone will be the loser. + Only think how cruel it is to deprive the eager eyes of our young beaux of + such a treat! Ah! and the glitter of your sparkling jewels on which it + almost wounds the sight to look. Good heavens! You seem to have plundered + the whole ocean of its pearls. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (before a glass). You are not accustomed to such things, miss! But + hark ye, miss! pray has your mistress also hired your tongue? Madam, 'tis + fine, indeed, to permit your domestics thus to address your guests. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. 'Tis my misfortune, signora, that my want of spirits prevents me + from enjoying the pleasure of your company. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. An ugly fault that, to be dull and spiritless. Be active, + sprightly, witty! Yours is not the way to attach your husband to you. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. I know but one way, Countess. Let yours ever be the sympathetic + medium. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (pretending not to mind her). How you dress, madam! For shame! Pay + more attention to your personal appearance! Have recourse to art where + nature has been unkind. Put a little paint on those cheeks, which look so + pale with spleen. Poor creature! Your puny face will never find a bidder. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (in a lively manner to ARABELLA). Congratulate me, girl. It is + impossible I can have lost my Fiesco; or, if I have, the loss must be but + trifling. (The chocolate is brought, ARABELLA pours it out.) + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Do you talk of losing Fiesco? Good God! How could you ever conceive + the ambitious idea of possessing him? Why, my child, aspire to such a + height? A height where you cannot but be seen, and must come into + comparison with others. Indeed, my dear, he was a knave or a fool who + joined you with FIESCO. (Taking her hand with a look of compassion.) Poor + soul! The man who is received in the assemblies of fashionable life could + never be a suitable match for you. (She takes a dish of chocolate.) + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (smiling at ARABELLA). If he were, he would not wish to mix with + such assemblies. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. The Count is handsome, fashionable, elegant. He is so fortunate as + to have formed connections with people of rank. He is lively and + high-spirited. Now, when he severs himself from these circles of elegance + and refinement, and returns home warm with their impressions, what does he + meet? His wife receives him with a commonplace tenderness; damps his fire + with an insipid, chilling kiss, and measures out her attentions to him + with a niggardly economy. Poor husband! Here, a blooming beauty smiles + upon him—there he is nauseated by a peevish sensibility. Signora, + signora, for God's sake consider, if he have not lost his understanding, + which will he choose? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (offering her a cup of chocolate). You, madam—if he have + lost it. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Good! This sting shall return into your own bosom. Tremble for your + mockery! But before you tremble—blush! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Do you then know what it is to blush, signora? But why not? 'Tis + a toilet trick. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Oh, see! This poor creature must be provoked if one would draw from + her a spark of wit. Well—let it pass this time. Madam, you were + bitter. Give me your hand in token of reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (offering her hand with a significant look). Countess, my anger + ne'er shall trouble you. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (offering her hand). Generous, indeed! Yet may I not be so, too? + (Maliciously.) Countess, do you not think I must love that person whose + image I bear constantly about me? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (blushing and confused). What do you say? Let me hope the + conclusion is too hasty. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. I think so, too. The heart waits not the guidance of the senses + —real sentiment needs no breastwork of outward ornament. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Heavens! Where did you learn such a truth? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. 'Twas in mere compassion that I spoke it; for observe, madam, the + reverse is no less certain. Such is Fiesco's love for you. (Gives her the + picture, laughing maliciously.) + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (with extreme indignation). My picture! Given to you! (Throws + herself into a chair, much affected.) Cruel, Fiesco! + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Have I retaliated? Have I? Now, madam, have you any other sting to + wound me with? (Goes to side scene.) My carriage! My object is gained. (To + LEONORA, patting her cheek.) Be comforted, my dear; he gave me the picture + in a fit of madness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt JULIA and ARABELLA. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE III. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LEONORA, CALCAGNO entering. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Did not the Countess Imperiali depart in anger? You, too, so + excited, madam? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (violently agitated.) No! This is unheard-of cruelty. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Heaven and earth! Do I behold you in tears? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Thou art a friend of my inhuman—Away, leave my sight! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Whom do you call inhuman? You affright me—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. My husband. Is he not so? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. What do I hear! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. 'Tis but a piece of villany common enough among your sex! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (grasping her hand with vehemence). Lady, I have a heart for + weeping virtue. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. You are a man—your heart is not for me. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. For you alone—yours only. Would that you knew how much, + how truly yours—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Man, thou art untrue. Thy words would be refuted by thy actions—— + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I swear to you—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. A false oath. Cease! The perjuries of men are so innumerable + 'twould tire the pen of the recording angel to write them down. If their + violated oaths were turned into as many devils they might storm heaven + itself, and lead away the angels of light as captives. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Nay, madam, your anger makes you unjust. Is the whole sex to + answer for the crime of one? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. I tell thee in that one was centred all my affection for the sex. + In him I will detest them all. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Countess,—you once bestowed your hand amiss. Would you + again make trial, I know one who would deserve it better. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. The limits of creation cannot bound your falsehoods. I'll hear no + more. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Oh, that you would retract this cruel sentence in my arms! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (with astonishment). Speak out. In thy arms! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. In my arms, which open themselves to receive a forsaken woman, + and to console her for the love she has lost. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (fixing her eyes on him). Love? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (kneeling before her with ardor). Yes, I have said it. Love, + madam! Life and death hang on your tongue. If my passion be criminal then + let the extremes of virtue and vice unite, and heaven and hell be joined + together in one perdition. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (steps back indignantly, with a look of noble disdain). Ha! + Hypocrite! Was that the object of thy false compassion? This attitude at + once proclaims thee a traitor to friendship and to love. Begone forever + from my eyes! Detested sex! Till now I thought the only victim of your + snares was woman; nor ever suspected that to each other you were so false + and faithless. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (rising, confounded). Countess! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Was it not enough to break the sacred seal of confidence? but + even on the unsullied mirror of virtue does this hypocrite breathe + pestilence, and would seduce my innocence to perjury. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (hastily). Perjury, madam, you cannot be guilty of. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. I understand thee—thou thoughtest my wounded pride would + plead in thy behalf. (With dignity). Thou didst not know that she who + loves Fiesco feels even the pang that rends her heart ennobling. Begone! + Fiesco's perfidy will not make Calcagno rise in my esteem—but—will + lower humanity. [Exit hastily. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (stands as if thunderstruck, looks after her, then striking his + forehead). Fool that I am. [Exit. + </p> + <p> + SCENE IV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The MOOR and FIESCO. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Who was it that just now departed? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. The Marquis Calcagno. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. This handkerchief was left upon the sofa. My wife has been here. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. I met her this moment in great agitation. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. This handkerchief is moist (puts it in his pocket). Calcagno here? + And Leonora agitated? This evening thou must learn what has happened. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Miss Bella likes to hear that she is fair. She will inform me. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Well—thirty hours are past. Hast thou executed my + commission? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. To the letter, my lord. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (seating himself). Then tell me how they talk of Doria, and of the + government. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Oh, most vilely. The very name of Doria shakes them like an + ague-fit. Gianettino is as hateful to them as death itself—there's + naught but murmuring. They say the French have been the rats of Genoa, the + cat Doria has devoured them, and now is going to feast upon the mice. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That may perhaps be true. But do they not know of any dog against + that cat? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (with an affected carelessness). The town was murmuring much of a + certain—poh—why, I have actually forgotten the name. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (rising). Blockhead! That name is as easy to be remembered as 'twas + difficult to achieve. Has Genoa more such names than one? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. No—it cannot have two Counts of Lavagna. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (seating himself). That is something. And what do they whisper + about my gayeties? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (fixing his eyes upon him). Hear me, Count of Lavagna! Genoa must + think highly of you. They can not imagine why a descendant of the first + family—with such talents and genius—full of spirit and + popularity— master of four millions—his veins enriched with + princely blood—a nobleman like Fiesco, whom, at the first call, all + hearts would fly to meet—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (turns away contemptuously). To hear such things from such a + scoundrel! + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Many lamented that the chief of Genoa should slumber over the ruin + of his country. And many sneered. Most men condemned you. All bewailed the + state which thus had lost you. A Jesuit pretended to have smelt out the + fox that lay disguised in sheep's clothing. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. One fox smells out another. What say they to my passion for the + Countess Imperiali? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. What I would rather be excused from repeating. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Out with it—the bolder the more welcome. What are their + murmurings? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. 'Tis not a murmur. At all the coffee-houses, billiard-tables, + hotels, and public walks—in the market-place, at the Exchange, they + proclaim aloud—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. What? I command thee! + </p> + <p> + MOOR (retreating). That you are a fool! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Well, take this sequin for these tidings. Now have I put on a + fool's cap that these Genoese may have wherewith to rack their wits. Next + I will shave my head, that they may play Merry Andrew to my Clown. How did + the manufacturers receive my presents? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (humorously). Why, Mr. Fool, they looked like poor knaves—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fool? Fellow, art thou mad? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Pardon! I had a mind for a few more sequins. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (laughing, gives him another sequin). Well. "Like poor knaves." + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Who receive pardon at the very block. They are yours both soul and + body. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I'm glad of it. They turn the scale among the populace of Genoa. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. What a scene it was! Zounds! I almost acquired a relish for + benevolence. They caught me round the neck like madmen. The very girls + seemed in love with my black visage, that's as ill-omened as the moon in + an eclipse. Gold, thought I, is omnipotent: it makes even a Moor look + fair. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That thought was better than the soil which gave it birth. These + words are favorable; but do they bespeak actions of equal import? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Yes—as the murmuring of the distant thunder foretells the + approaching storm. The people lay their heads together—they collect + in parties—break off their talk whenever a stranger passes by. + Throughout Genoa reigns a gloomy silence. This discontent hangs like a + threatening tempest over the republic. Come, wind, then hail and lightning + will burst forth. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Hush!—hark! What is that confused noise? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (going to the window). It is the tumult of the crowd returning from + the senate-house. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. To-day is the election of a procurator. Order my carriage! It is + impossible that the sitting should be over. I'll go thither. It is + impossible it should be over if things went right. Bring me my sword and + cloak—where is my golden chain? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Sir, I have stolen and pawned it. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That I am glad to hear. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. But, how! Are there no more sequins for me? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. No. You forgot the cloak. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Ah! I was wrong in pointing out the thief. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The tumult comes nearer. Hark! 'Tis not the sound of approbation. + Quick! Unlock the gates; I guess the matter. Doria has been rash. The + state balances upon a needle's point. There has assuredly been some + disturbance at the senate-house. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (at the window). What's here! They're coming down the street of Balbi—a + crowd of many thousands—the halberds glitter—ah, swords too! + Halloo! Senators! They come this way. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Sedition is on foot. Hasten amongst them; mention my name; + persuade them to come hither. (Exit Moon hastily.) What reason, laboring + like a careful ant, with difficulty scrapes together, the wind of accident + collects in one short moment. + </p> + <p> + SCENE V. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO, and ASSERATO, rushing in. +</pre> + <p> + ZIBO. Count, impute it to our anger that we enter thus unannounced. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. I have been mortally affronted by the duke's nephew in the + face of the whole senate. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Doria has trampled on the golden book of which each noble + Genoese is a leaf. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Therefore come we hither. The whole nobility are insulted in + me; the whole nobility must share my vengeance. To avenge my own honor I + should not need assistance. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. The whole nobility are outraged in his person; the whole nobility + must rise and vent their rage in fire and flames. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. The rights of the nation are trodden under foot; the liberty of + the republic has received a deadly blow. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. You raise my expectation to the utmost. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. He was the twenty-ninth among the electing senators, and had drawn + forth a golden ball to vote for the procurator. Of the eight-and-twenty + votes collected, fourteen were for me, and as many for Lomellino. His and + Doria's were still wanting—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Wanting! I gave my vote for Zibo. Doria—think of the + wound inflicted on my honor—Doria—— + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO (interrupting him). Such a thing was never heard of since the sea + washed the walls of Genoa. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (continues, with great heat). Doria drew a sword, which he had + concealed under a scarlet cloak—stuck it through my vote—called + to the assembly—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. "Senators, 'tis good-for-nothing—'tis pierced through. + Lomellino is procurator." + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. "Lomellino is procurator." And threw his sword upon the table. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. And called out, "'Tis good-for-nothing!" and threw his sword + upon the table. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (after a pause). On what are you resolved? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. The republic is wounded to its very heart. On what are we + resolved? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Zenturione, rushes may yield to a breath, but the oak requires a + storm. I ask, on what are you resolved? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Methinks the question shall be, on what does Genoa resolve? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Genoa! Genoa! name it not. 'Tis rotten, and crumbles wherever you + touch it. Do you reckon on the nobles? Perhaps because they put on grave + faces, look mysterious when state affairs are mentioned—talk not of + them! Their heroism is stifled among the bales of their Levantine + merchandise. Their souls hover anxiously over their India fleet. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Learn to esteem our nobles more justly. Scarcely was Doria's + haughty action done when hundreds of them rushed into the street tearing + their garments. The senate was dispersed—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (sarcastically). Like frighted pigeons when the vulture darts upon + the dovecot. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. No! (fiercely)—like powder-barrels when a match falls on + them. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. The people are enraged. What may we not expect from the fury of the + wounded boar! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (laughing). The blind, unwieldy monster, which at first rattles its + heavy bones, threatening, with gaping jaws, to devour the high and low, + the near and distant, at last stumbles at a thread—Genoese, 'tis in + vain! The epoch of the masters of the sea is past—Genoa is sunk + beneath the splendor of its name. Its state is such as once was Rome's, + when, like a tennis-ball, she leaped into the racket of young Octavius. + Genoa can be free no longer; Genoa must be fostered by a monarch; + therefore do homage to the mad-brained Gianettino. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (vehemently). Yes, when the contending elements are reconciled, + and when the north pole meets the south. Come, friends. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Stay! stay! Upon what project are you brooding, Zibo? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. On nothing. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (leading them to a statue). Look at this figure. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. It is the Florentine Venus. Why point to her? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. At least she pleases you. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Undoubtedly, or we should be but poor Italians. But why this + question now? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Travel through all the countries of the globe, and among the most + beautiful of living female models, seek one which shall unite all the + charms of this ideal Venus. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. And then take for our reward? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Then your search will have convicted fancy of deceit—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (impatiently). And what shall we have gained? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Gained? The decision of the long-protracted contest between art + and nature. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (eagerly). And what then? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Then, then? (Laughing.) Then your attention will have been + diverted from observing the fall of Genoa's liberty. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt all but FIESCO. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE VI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO alone. (The noise without increases.) +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. 'Tis well! 'tis well. The straw of the republic has caught fire—the + flames have seized already on palaces and towers. Let it go on! May the + blaze be general! Let the tempestuous wind spread wide the conflagration! + </p> + <p> + SCENE VII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, MOOR, entering in haste. +</pre> + <p> + MOOR. Crowds upon crowds! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Throw open wide the gates. Let all that choose enter. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Republicans! Republicans, indeed! They drag their liberty along, + panting, like beasts of burden, beneath the yoke of their magnificent + nobility. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fools! who believe that Fiesco of Lavagna will carry on what + Fiesco of Lavagna did not begin. The tumult comes opportunely; but the + conspiracy must be my own. They are rushing hither—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR (going out). Halloo! halloo! You are very obligingly battering the + house down. (The people rush in; the doors broken down.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, twelve ARTISANS. +</pre> + <p> + ALL ARTISANS. Vengeance on Doria! Vengeance on Gianettino! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Gently! gently! my countrymen! Your waiting thus upon me bespeaks + the warmth of your affection; but I pray you have mercy on my ears! + </p> + <p> + ALL (with impetuosity). Down with the Dorias! Down with them, uncle and + nephew! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (counting them with a smile). Twelve is a mighty force! + </p> + <p> + SOME OF THEM. These Dorias must away! the state must be reformed! + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. To throw our magistrates down stairs! The magistrates! + </p> + <p> + 2D ARTISAN. Think, Count Lavagna—down stairs! because they opposed + them in the election—— + </p> + <p> + ALL. It must not be endured! it shall not be endured! + </p> + <p> + 3D ARTISAN. To take a sword into the senate! + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. A sword?—the sign of war—into the chamber of + peace! + </p> + <p> + 2D ARTISAN. To come into the senate dressed in scarlet! Not like the other + senators, in black. + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. To drive through our capital with eight horses! + </p> + <p> + ALL. A tyrant! A traitor to the country and the government! + </p> + <p> + 2D ARTISAN. To hire two hundred Germans from the Emperor for his + body-guard. + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. To bring foreigners in arms against the natives—Germans + against Italians—soldiers against laws! + </p> + <p> + ALL. 'Tis treason!—'tis a plot against the liberty of Genoa! + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. To have the arms of the republic painted on his coach! + </p> + <p> + 2D ARTISAN. The statue of Andreas placed in the centre of the + senate-house! + </p> + <p> + ALL. Dash them to pieces—both the statue and the man—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Citizens of Genoa, why this to me? + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. You should not suffer it. You should keep him down. + </p> + <p> + 2D ARTISAN. You are a wise man, and should not suffer it. You should + direct us by your counsel. + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. You are a better nobleman. You should chastise them and curb + their insolence. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Your confidence is flattering. Can I merit it by deeds? + </p> + <p> + ALL (clamorously). Strike! Down with the tyrant! Make us free! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But—will you hear me? + </p> + <p> + SOME. Speak, Count! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (seating himself). Genoese,—the empire of the animals was + once thrown into confusion; parties struggled with parties, till at last a + bull-dog seized the throne. He, accustomed to drive the cattle to the + knife of the butcher, prowled in savage manner through the state. He + barked, he bit, and gnawed his subjects' bones. The nation murmured; the + boldest joined together, and killed the princely monster. Now a general + assembly was held to decide upon the important question, which form of + government was best. There were three different opinions. Genoese, what + would be your decision? + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. For the people—everything in common—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The people gained it. The government was democratical; each + citizen had a vote, and everything was submitted to a majority. But a few + weeks passed ere man declared war against the new republic. The state + assembled. Horse, lion, tiger, bear, elephant, and rhinoceros, stepped + forth, and roared aloud, "To arms!" The rest were called upon to vote. The + lamb, the hare, the stag, the ass, the tribe of insects, with the birds + and timid fishes, cried for peace. See, Genoese! The cowards were more + numerous than the brave; the foolish than the wise. Numbers prevailed—the + beasts laid down their arms, and man exacted contributions from them. The + democratic system was abandoned. Genoese, what would you next have chosen? + </p> + <p> + 1ST AND 2D ARTISANS. A select government! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That was adopted. The business of the state was all arranged in + separate departments. Wolves were the financiers, foxes their secretaries, + doves presided in the criminal courts, and tigers in the courts of equity. + The laws of chastity were regulated by goats; hares were the soldiers; + lions and elephants had charge of the baggage. The ass was the ambassador + of the empire, and the mole appointed inspector-general of the whole + administration. Genoese, what think you of this wise distribution? Those + whom the wolf did not devour the fox pillaged; whoever escaped from him + was knocked down by the ass. The tiger murdered innocents, whilst robbers + and assassins were pardoned by the doves. And at the last, when each had + laid down his office, the mole declared that all were well discharged. The + animals rebelled. "Let us," they cried unanimously, "choose a monarch + endowed with strength and skill, and who has only one stomach to appease." + And to one chief they all did homage. Genoese—to one—-but + (rising and advancing majestically)—that one was—the lion! + </p> + <p> + ALL (shouting, and throwing up their hats). Bravo! Bravo! Well managed, + Count Lavagna! + </p> + <p> + 1ST ARTISAN. And Genoa shall follow that example. Genoa, also, has its + lion! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Tell me not of that lion; but go home and think upon him. (The + ARTISANS depart tumultuously.) It is as I would have it. The people and + the senate are alike enraged against Doria; the people and the senate + alike approve FIESCO. Hassan! Hassan! I must take advantage of this + favorable gale. Hoa! Hassan! Hassan! I must augment their hatred— + improve my influence. Hassan! Come hither! Whoreson of hell, come hither! + </p> + <p> + SCENE IX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, MOOR entering hastily. +</pre> + <p> + MOOR. My feet are quite on fire with running. What is the matter now? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Hear my commands! + </p> + <p> + MOOR (submissively). Whither shall I run first? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I will excuse thy running this time. Thou shalt be dragged. + Prepare thyself. I intend to publish thy attempted assassination, and + deliver thee up in chains to the criminal tribunal. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (taking several steps backward). Sir!—that's contrary to + agreement. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Be not alarmed. 'Tis but a farce. At this moment 'tis of the + utmost consequence that Gianettino's attempt against my life should be + made public. Thou shalt be tried before the criminal tribunal. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Must I confess it, or deny? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Deny. They will put thee to the torture. Thou must hold out + against the first degree. This, by the by, will serve to expiate thy real + crime. At the second thou mayest confess. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (shaking his head with a look of apprehension). The devil is a sly + rogue. Their worships might perhaps desire my company a little longer than + I should wish; and, for sheer farce sake, I may be broken on the wheel. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Thou shalt escape unhurt, I give thee my honor as a nobleman. I + shall request, as satisfaction, to have thy punishment left to me, and + then pardon thee before the whole republic. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Well—I agree to it. They will draw out my joints a little; but + that will only make them the more flexible. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Then scratch this arm with thy dagger, till the blood flows. I + will pretend that I have just now seized thee in fact. 'Tis well. + (Hallooing violently). Murder! Murder! Guard the passages! Make fast the + gates! (He drags the MOOR out by the throat; servants run across the stage + hastily.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE X. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LEONORA and ROSA enter hastily, alarmed. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA. Murder! they cried—murder!—The noise came this way. + </p> + <p> + ROSA. Surely 'twas but a common tumult, such as happens every day in + Genoa. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. They cried murder! and I distinctly heard Fiesco's name. In vain + you would deceive me. My heart discovers what is concealed from my eyes. + Quick! Hasten after them. See! Tell me whither they carry him. + </p> + <p> + ROSA. Collect your spirits, madam. Arabella is gone. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Arabella will catch his dying look. The happy Arabella! Wretch + that I am? 'twas I that murdered him. If I could have engaged his heart he + would not have plunged into the world, nor rushed upon the daggers of + assassins. Ah! she comes. Away! Oh, Arabella, speak not to me! + </p> + <p> + SCENE XI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, ARABELLA. +</pre> + <p> + ARABELLA. The Count is living and unhurt. I saw him gallop through the + city. Never did he appear more handsome. The steed that bore him pranced + haughtily along, and with its proud hoof kept the thronging multitude at a + distance from its princely rider. He saw me as I passed, and with a + gracious smile, pointing thither, thrice kissed his hand to me. (Archly.) + What can I do with those kisses, madam? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (highly pleased). Idle prattler! Restore them to him. + </p> + <p> + ROSA. See now, how soon your color has returned! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. His heart he is ready to fling at every wench, whilst I sigh in + vain for a look! Oh woman! woman! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XII.—The Palace of ANDREAS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GIANETTINO and LOMELLINO enter hastily. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Let them roar for their liberty as a lioness for her young. I + am resolved. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. But—most gracious prince! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Away to hell with thy buts, thou three-hours procurator! I + will not yield a hair's breadth? Let Genoa's towers shake their heads, and + the hoarse sea bellow No to it. I value not the rebellious multitude! + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. The people are indeed the fuel; but the nobility fan the flame. + The whole republic is in a ferment, people and patricians. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Then will I stand upon the mount like Nero, and regale myself + with looking upon the paltry flames. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Till the whole mass of sedition falls into the hands of some + enterprising leader, who will take advantage of the general devastation. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Poh! Poh! I know but one who might be dangerous, and he is + taken care of. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. His highness comes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter ANDREAS—(both bow respectfully). +</pre> + <p> + ANDREAS. Signor Lomellino, my niece wishes to take the air. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. I shall have the honor of attending her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit LOMELLINO. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ANDREAS and GIANETTINO. +</pre> + <p> + ANDREAS. Nephew, I am much displeased with you. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Grant me a hearing, most gracious uncle! + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. That would I grant to the meanest beggar in Genoa if he were + worthy of it. Never to a villain, though he were my nephew. It is + sufficient favor that I address thee as an uncle, not as a sovereign! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. One word only, gracious sir! + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Hear first what thou hast done; then answer me. Thou hast pulled + down an edifice which I have labored for fifty years to raise— that + which should have been thy uncle's mausoleum, his only pyramid—the + affections of his countrymen. This rashness Andreas pardons thee—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. My uncle and my sovereign—— + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Interrupt me not. Thou hast injured that most glorious work of + mine, the constitution, which I brought down from heaven for Genoa, which + cost me so many sleepless nights, so many dangers, and so much blood. + Before all Genoa thou hast cast a stain upon my honor, in violating my + institutions. Who will hold them sacred if my own blood despise them? This + folly thy uncle pardons thee. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (offended). Sir, you educated me to be the Duke of Genoa. + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Be silent. Thou art a traitor to the state, and hast attacked its + vital principle. Mark me, boy! That principle is—subordination. + Because the shepherd retired in the evening from his labor, thoughtest + thou the flock deserted? Because Andreas' head is white with age, + thoughtest thou, like a villain, to trample on the laws? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (insolently). Peace, Duke! In my veins also boils the blood of + that Andreas before whom France has trembled. + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Be silent! I command thee. When I speak the sea itself is wont to + pay attention. Thou hast insulted the majesty of justice in its very + sanctuary. Rebel! dost thou know what punishment that crime demands? Now + answer! (GIANETTINO appears struck, and fixes his eyes on the ground + without speaking). Wretched Andreas! In thy own heart hast thou fostered + the canker of thy renown. I built up a fabric for Genoa which should mock + the lapse of ages, and am myself the first to cast a firebrand into it. + Thank my gray head, which would be laid in the grave by a relation's hand—thank + my unjust love that, on the scaffold, I pour not out thy rebellious blood + to satisfy the violated laws. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XIV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GIANETTINO looks after the DUKE, speechless with anger, LOMELLINO + entering, breathless and terrified. +</pre> + <p> + LOMELLINO. What have I seen! What have I heard! Fly, prince! Fly quickly! + All is lost. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (with inward rage). What was there to lose? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Genoa, prince: I come from the market-place. The people were + crowding round a Moor who was dragged along bound with cords. The Count of + Lavagna, with above three hundred nobles, followed to the criminal court. + The Moor had been employed to assassinate Fiesco, and in the attempt was + seized. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (stamping violently on the ground). What, are all the devils of + hell let loose at once? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. They questioned him most strictly concerning his employer. The + Moor confessed nothing. They tried the first degree of torture. Still he + confessed nothing. They put him to the second. Then he spoke— he + spoke. My gracious lord, how could you trust your honor to such a villain? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (fiercely). Ask me no question? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Hear the rest! Scarcely was the word Doria uttered—I + would sooner have seen my name inscribed in the infernal register than + have heard yours thus mentioned—scarcely was it uttered when Fiesco + showed himself to the people. You know the man—how winningly he + pleads—how he is wont to play the usurer with the hearts of the + multitude. The whole assembly hung upon his looks, breathless with + indignation. He spoke little, but bared his bleeding arm. The crowd + contended for the falling drops as if for sacred relics. The Moor was + given up to his disposal— and Fiesco—a mortal blow for us! + Fiesco pardoned him. Now the confined anger of the people burst forth in + one tumultuous clamor. Each breath annihilated a Doria, and Fiesco was + borne home amidst a thousand joyful acclamations. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (with a ferocious laugh). Let the flood of tumult swell up to + my very throat. The emperor! That sound alone shall strike them to the + earth, so that not a murmur shall be heard in Genoa. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Bohemia is far from hence. If the emperor come speedily he may + perhaps be present at your funeral feast. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (drawing forth a letter with a great seal). 'Tis fortunate that + he is here already. Art thou surprised at this? And didst thou think me + mad enough to brave the fury of enraged republicans had I not known they + were betrayed and sold? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (with astonishment). I know not what to think! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. But I have thought of something which thou couldst not know. + My plan is formed. Ere two days are past twelve senators must fall. Doria + becomes sovereign, and the Emperor Charles protects him. Thou seemest + astonished—— + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Twelve senators! My heart is too narrow to comprehend a + twelvefold murder. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Fool that thou art! The throne will absolve the deed. I + consulted with the ministers of Charles on the strong party which France + still has in Genoa, and by which she might a second time seize on it + unless they should be rooted out. This worked upon the emperor—he + approved my projects—and thou shalt write what I will dictate to + thee. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. I know not yet your purpose. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Sit down and write—— + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. But what am I to write? (Seats himself.) + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. The names of the twelve candidates for death—Francis + Zenturione. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (writes). In gratitude for his vote he leads the funeral + procession. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Cornelio Calva. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Calva. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Michael Zibo. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. To cool him after his disappointment in the procuratorship. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Thomas Asserato and his three brothers. (LOMELLINO stops.) + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (forcibly). And his three brothers—— + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (writes). Go on. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Fiesco of Lavagna. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Have a care! Have a care! That black stone will yet prove fatal + to you. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Scipio Bourgognino. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. He may celebrate elsewhere his wedding—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Ay, where I shall be director of the nuptials. Raphael Sacco. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. I should intercede for his life until he shall have paid my + five thousand crowns. (Writes.) Death strikes the balance. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Vincent Calcagno. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Calcagno. The twelfth I write at my own risk, unless our mortal + enemy be overlooked. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. The end crowns all—Joseph Verrina. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. He is the very head of the viper that threatens us. (Rises and + presents the paper to GIANETTINO.) Two days hence death shall make a + splendid feast, at which twelve of the chief of Genoa's nobles will be + present. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (signs the paper). 'Tis done. Two days hence will be the ducal + election. When the senate shall be assembled for that purpose these twelve + shall, on the signal of a handkerchief, be suddenly laid low. My two + hundred Germans will have surrounded the senate-house. At that moment I + enter and claim homage as the Duke. (Rings the bell.) + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. And what of Andreas? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (contemptuously). He is an old man. (Enter a servant.) If the + Duke should ask for me say I am gone to mass. (Exit servant.) I must + conceal the devil that's within beneath a saintly garb. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. But, my lord, the paper? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Take it, and let it be circulated among our party. This letter + must be dispatched by express to Levanto. 'Tis to inform Spinola of our + intended plan, and bid him reach the capital early in the morning. + (Going.) + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Stop, prince. There is an error in our calculation. Fiesco does + not attend the senate. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (looking back). Genoa will easily supply one more assassin. + I'll see to that. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt different ways. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + An Ante-chamber in FIESCO'S Palace. + + FIESCO, with papers before him, and MOOR. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Four galleys have entered the harbor, dost say? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Yes, they're at anchor in the port. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That's well. Whence are these expresses? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. From Rome, Placentia, and France. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (opens the letters and runs over them). Welcome! welcome news! (In + high spirits.) Let the messengers be treated in a princely manner. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Hem! (Going.). + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Stop, stop! Here's work for thee in plenty. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Command me. I am ready to act the setter or the bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I only want at present the voice of the decoy-bird. To-morrow + early two thousand men will enter the city in disguise to engage in my + service. Distribute thy assistants at the gates, and let them keep a + watchful eye upon the strangers that arrive. Some will be dressed like + pilgrims on their journey to Loretto, others like mendicant friars, or + Savoyards, or actors; some as peddlers and musicians; but the most as + disbanded soldiers coming to seek a livelihood in Genoa. Let every one be + asked where he takes up his lodging. If he answer at the Golden Snake, let + him be treated as a friend and shown my habitation. But remember, sirrah, + I rely upon thy prudence. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Sir, as securely as upon my knavery. If a single head escape me, + pluck out my eyes and shoot at sparrows with them. (Going.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Stop! I've another piece of business for thee. The arrival of the + galleys will excite suspicion in the city. If any one inquire of thee + about them, say thou hast heard it rumored that thy master intends to + cruise against the Turks. Dost thou understand me? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Yes, yes—the beards of the Mussulmen at the masthead, but the + devil for a steersman. (Going.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Gently—one more precaution. Gianettino has new reasons to + hate me and lay snares against my life. Go—sound the fellows of thy + trade; see if thou canst not smell out some plot on foot against me. Visit + the brothels—Doria often frequents them. The secrets of the cabinet + are sometimes lodged within the folds of a petticoat. Promise these ladies + golden customers. Promise them thy master. Let nothing be too sacred to be + used in gaining the desired information. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Ha! luckily I am acquainted with one Diana Buononi, whom I have + served above a year as procurer. The other day I saw the Signor Lomellino + coming out of her house. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. That suits my purpose well. This very Lomellino is the key to all + Doria's follies. To-morrow thou shalt go thither. Perhaps he is to-night + the Endymion of this chaste Diana. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. One more question, my lord. Suppose the people ask me—and that + they will, I'll pawn my soul upon it—suppose they ask, "What does + Fiesco think of Genoa?" Would you still wear the mask?—or—how + shall I answer them? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Answer? Hum! The fruit is ripe. The pains of labor announce the + approaching birth. Answer that Genoa lies upon the block, and that thy + master's name is—John Louis Fiesco—— + </p> + <p> + MOOR (with an air of satisfaction). That, by my rogue's honor, shall be + done to your heart's content. Now be wide awake, friend Hassan! First to a + tavern! My feet have work enough cut out for them. I must coax my stomach + to intercede with my legs. (Hastening away—returns.) Oh, apropos! My + chattering made me almost forget one circumstance. You wished to know what + passed between Calcagno and your wife. A refusal, sir—that's all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Runs off. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XVI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO alone. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. I pity thee, Calcagno. Didst thou think I should, upon so delicate + a point, have been thus careless had I not relied in perfect security on + my wife's virtue and my own deserts? Yet I welcome this passion. Thou art + a good soldier. It shall procure me thy arm for the destruction of Doria. + (Walking up and down.) Now, Doria, to the scene of action! All the + machines are ready for the grand attempt—the instruments are tuned + for the terrific concert. Naught is wanting but to throw off the mask, and + show Fiesco to the patriots of Genoa. (Some persons are heard + approaching.) Ha! Visitors! Who can be coming to disturb me? + </p> + <p> + SCENE XVII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, VERRINA, ROMANO, with a picture; SACCO, BOURGOGNINO, + CALCAGNO. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (receiving them with great affability). Welcome, my worthy friends! + What important business brings you all hither? Are you, too, come, my dear + brother, Verrina? I should almost have forgotten you, had you not oftener + been present to my thoughts than to my sight. I think I have not seen you + since my last entertainment. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Do not count the hours, Fiesco! Heavy burdens have in that + interval weighed down my aged head. But enough of this—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Not enough to satisfy the anxiety of friendship. You must inform + me farther when we are alone. (Addressing BOURGOGNINO.) Welcome, brave + youth! Our acquaintance is yet green; but my affection for thee is already + ripe. Has your esteem for me improved? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. 'Tis on the increase. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Verrina, it is reported that this brave young man is to be your + son-in-law. Receive my warmest approbation of your choice. I have + conversed with him but once; and yet I should be proud to call him my + relation. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. That judgment makes me of my daughter vain. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to the others). Sacco, Calcagno—all unfrequent visitors—I + should fear the absence of Genoa's noblest ornaments were a proof that I + had been deficient in hospitality. And here I greet a fifth guest, unknown + to me, indeed, but sufficiently recommended by this worthy circle. + </p> + <p> + ROMANO. He, my lord, is simply a painter, by name Julio Romano, who lives + by theft and counterfeit of Nature's charms. His pencil is his only + escutcheon; and he now comes hither (bowing profoundly) to seek the manly + outlines of a Brutus. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Give me your hand, Romano! I love the mistress of your soul with a + holy fire. Art is the right hand of Nature. The latter only gave us being, + but 'twas the former made us men. What are the subjects of your labor? + </p> + <p> + ROMANO. Scenes from the heroic ages of antiquity. At Florence is my dying + Hercules, at Venice my Cleopatra, the raging Ajax at Rome, where, in the + Vatican, the heroes of former times rise again to light. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. And what just now employs you? + </p> + <p> + ROMANO. Alas! my lord, I've thrown away my pencil. The lamp of genius + burns quicker than the lamp of life. Beyond a certain moment the flame + flickers and dies. This is my last production. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (in a lively manner). It could not come more opportune. I feel + to-day a more than usual cheerfulness. A sentiment of calm delight + pervades my being, and fits it to receive the impression of Nature's + beauties. Let us view your picture. I shall feast upon the sight. Come, + friends, we will devote ourselves entirely to the artist. Place your + picture. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (apart to the others). Now, Genoese, observe! + </p> + <p> + ROMANO (placing the picture). The light must fall upon it thus. Draw up + that curtain—let fall the other,—right. (Standing on one + side). It is the story of Virginia and Appius Claudius. (A long pause; all + contemplate the picture.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with enthusiasm). Strike, aged father! Dost thou tremble, tyrant? + How pale you stand there, Romans! Imitate him, senseless Romans! The sword + yet glitters! Imitate me, senseless Genoese! Down with Doria! Down with + him! (Striking at the picture.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to the painter, smiling). Could you desire greater applause? Your + art has transformed this old man into a youthful enthusiast. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (exhausted). Where am I! What has become of them! They vanished + like bubbles. You here, Fiesco! and the tyrant living! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. My friend, amidst this admiration you have overlooked the parts + most truly beauteous. Does this Roman's head thus strike you? Look there! + Observe that damsel—what soft expression! What feminine delicacy! + How sweetly touched are those pale lips! How exquisite that dying look! + Inimitable! Divine, Romano! And that white, dazzling breast, that heaves + with the last pulse of life. Draw more such beauties, Romano, and I will + give up Nature to worship thy creative fancy. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Is it thus, Verrina, your hopes are answered? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Take courage, son! The Almighty has rejected the arm of FIESCO. + Upon ours he must rely. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to ROMANO). Well—'tis your last work, Romano. Your powers + are exhausted. Lay down your pencil. Yet, whilst I am admiring the artist, + I forget to satiate on the work. I could stand gazing on it, regardless of + an earthquake. Take away your picture—the wealth of Genoa would + scarcely reach the value of this Virginia. Away with it. + </p> + <p> + ROMANO. Honor is the artist's noblest reward. I present it to you. (Offers + to go away.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Stay, Romano! (He walks majestically up and down the room, seeming + to reflect on something of importance. Sometimes he casts a quick and + penetrating glance at the others; at last he takes ROMANO by the hand, and + leads him to the picture.) Come near, painter. (With dignified pride.) + Proudly stand'st thou there because, upon the dead canvas, thou canst + simulate life, and immortalize great deeds with small endeavor. Thou canst + dilate with the poet's fire on the empty puppet-show of fancy, without + heart and without the nerve of life-inspiring deeds; depose tyrants on + canvas, and be thyself a miserable slave! Thou canst liberate Republics + with a dash of the pencil, yet not break thy own chains! (In a loud and + commanding tone.) Go! Thy work is a mere juggle. Let the semblance give + place to reality! (With haughtiness, overturning the picture.) I have done + what thou hast only painted. (All struck with astonishment; ROMANO carries + away the picture in confusion.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XVIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, except ROMANO. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Did you suppose the lion slept because he ceased to roar? Did your + vain thoughts persuade you that none but you could feel the chains of + Genoa? That none but you durst break them? Before you knew their weight, + Fiesco had already broken them. (He opens an escritoire, takes out a + parcel of letters, and throws them on the table.) These bring soldiers + from Parma;—these, French money;-these, four galleys from the Pope. + What now is wanting to rouse the tyrant in his lair? Tell me, what think + you wanting? (All stand silent with astonishment.) Republicans! you waste + your time in curses when you should overthrow the tyrant. (All but VERRINA + throw themselves at FIESCO'S feet.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Fiesco, my spirit bends to thine, but my knee cannot. Thy soul is + great; but—rise, Genoese! (They rise.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. All Genoa was indignant at the effeminate Fiesco; all Genoa cursed + the profligate FIESCO. Genoese! my amours have blinded the cunning despot. + My wild excesses served to guard my plans from the danger of an imprudent + confidence. Concealed beneath the cloak of luxury the infant plot grew up. + Enough—I'm known sufficiently to Genoa in being known to you. I have + attained my utmost wish. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (throwing himself indignantly into a chair). Am I, then, + nothing? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But let us turn from thought to action. All the engines are + prepared—I can storm the city by sea and land. Rome, France, and + Parma cover me; the nobles are disaffected; the hearts of the populace are + mine; I have lulled to sleep the tyrants; the state is ripe for + revolution. We are no longer in the hands of Fortune. Nothing is wanting. + Verrina is lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Patience! I have a word to say, which will more quickly rouse + him than the trumpet of the last day. (To VERRINA—calls out to him + emphatically.) Father! Awake! Thy Bertha will despair. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Who spoke those words? Genoese, to arms! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Think on the means of forwarding our plan. Night has advanced upon + our discourse; Genoa is wrapped in sleep; the tyrant sinks exhausted + beneath the sins of the day. Let us watch o'er both. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Let us, before we part, consecrate our heroic union by an + embrace! (They form a circle, with joined arms.) Here unite five of the + bravest hearts in Genoa to decide their country's fate. (All embrace + eagerly.) When the universe shall fall asunder, and the eternal sentence + shall cut in twain the bonds of consanguinity and love, then may this + fivefold band of heroes still remain entire! (They separate.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. When shall we next assemble? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. At noon to-morrow I'll hear your sentiments. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. 'Tis well—at noon to-morrow. Goodnight, Fiesco! Come, + Bourgognino, you will hear something marvellous. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt VERRINA and BOURGOGNINO. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (to the others). Depart by the back gates, that Doria's spies may + not suspect us. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt SACCO and CALCAGNO. + + +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XIX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + FIESCO, alone. + + </pre> + <p> + FIESCO (walking up and down in meditation). What a tumult is in my breast! + What a concourse of dark, uncertain images! Like guilty wretches stealing + out in secret to do some horrid deed, with trembling steps and blushing + faces bent toward the ground, these flattering phantoms glide athwart my + soul. Stay! stay!—let me examine you more closely. A virtuous + thought strengthens the heart of man, and boldly meets the day. Ha! I know + you—robed in the livery of Satan—avaunt! (A pause; he + continues with energy.) Fiesco, the patriot! the Duke Fiesco! Peace! On + this steep precipice the boundaries of virtue terminate: here heaven and + hell are separated. Here have heroes stumbled, here have they fallen, and + left behind a name loaded with curses—here, too, have heroes paused, + here checked their course, and risen to immortality. (More vehemently.) To + know the hearts of Genoa mine! To govern with a master's hand this + formidable state! Oh, artifice of sin, that masks each devil with an + angel's face! Fatal ambition! Everlasting tempter! Won by thy charms, + angels abandoned heaven, and death sprung from thy embraces. (Shuddering.) + Thy syren voice drew angels from their celestial mansions—man thou + ensnarest with beauty, riches, power. (After a pause, in a firm tone.) To + gain a diadem is great—to reject it is divine! (Resolutely.) Perish + the tyrant! Let Genoa be free—and I (much affected) will be its + happiest citizen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE I.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + Midnight. A dreary wilderness. + + VERRINA and BOURGOGNINO entering. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (stands still). Whither are you leading me, father. The heavy + grief that hung upon your brow when first you bade me follow you still + seems to labor in your panting breast. Break this dreadful silence! Speak. + I will go no further. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. This is the place. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. You could not choose a spot more awful. Father, if the deed + you purpose be like the place—father—my hair will stand on end + with horror. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. And yet 'tis cheerfulness itself to the gloom that enwraps my + soul. Follow me to yon churchyard, where corruption preys on the + mouldering remnants of mortality, and death holds his fearful banquet— + where shrieks of damned souls delight the listening fiends, and sorrow + weeps her fruitless tears into the never-filling urn. Follow me, my son, + to where the condition of this world is changed; and God throws off his + attributes of mercy—there will I speak to thee in agony, and thou + shalt hear with despair. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Hear! what? I conjure you, father. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Youth! I fear. Youth, thy blood is warm and crimson—thy + heart is soft and tender—such natures are alive to human kindness—this + warmth of feeling melts my obdurate wisdom. If the frost of age or + sorrow's leaden pressure had chilled the springtide vigor of thy spirits + —if black congealed blood had closed the avenues of thy heart + against the approaches of humanity—then would thy mind be attuned to + the language of my grief, and thou wouldst look with admiration on my + project. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. I will hear it, and embrace it as my own. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Not so, my son—Verrina will not wound thy heart with it. O + Scipio, heavy burdens lie on me. A thought more dark and horrible than + night, too vast to be contained within the breast of man! Mark me—my + hand alone shall execute the deed; but my mind cannot alone support the + weight of it. If I were proud, Scipio, I might say greatness unshared is + torture. It was a burden to the Deity himself, and he created angels to + partake his counsels. Hear, Scipio! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. My soul devours thy words. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Hear! But answer nothing—nothing, young man! Observe me—not + a word—Fiesco must die. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). Die! Fiesco! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Die—I thank thee, God, 'tis out at last—Fiesco must + die. My son—die by my hand. Now, go. There are deeds too high for + human judgment. They appeal alone to heaven's tribunal. Such a one is + this. Go! I neither ask thy blame nor approbation. I know my inward + struggles, and that's enough. But hear! These thoughts might weary out thy + mind even to madness. Hear! Didst thou observe yesterday with what pride + he viewed his greatness reflected from our wondering countenances? The man + whose smiles deceived all Italy, will he endure equals in Genoa? Go! 'Tis + certain that Fiesco will overthrow the tyrant. 'Tis as certain he will + become a tyrant still more dangerous. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit hastily. BOURGOGNINO looks after him with speechless + surprise, then follows slowly. + +</pre> + <p> + SCENE II. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + An apartment in FIESCO'S house. In the middle of the back + scene a glass door, through which is seen a view of the sea and Genoa. + Daybreak. + + + FIESCO at the window. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. What do I see! The moon hath hid its face. The morn is rising + fiery from the sea. Wild fancies have beset my sleep, and kept my soul + convulsed by one idea. Let me inhale the pure, refreshing breeze. (He + opens a window; the city and ocean appear red with the tint of morning. + FIESCO walking up and down the room with energy.) I the greatest man in + Genoa! And should not lesser souls bow down before the greater? But is not + this to trample upon virtue? (Musing.) Virtue? The elevated mind is + exposed to other than ordinary temptations—shall it then be governed + by the ordinary rules of virtue? Is the armor which encases the pigmy's + feeble frame suited to the giant? (The sun rises over Genoa.) This + majestic city mine! (Spreading out his arms as if to embrace it.) To flame + above it like the god of day! To rule over it with a monarch mind! To hold + in subjection all the raging passions, all the insatiable desires in this + fathomless ocean! 'Tis certain, though the cunning of the thief ennoble + not the theft, yet doth the prize ennoble the thief. It is base to filch a + purse—daring to embezzle a million,—but it is immeasurably + great to steal a diadem. As guilt extends its sphere, the infamy + decreaseth. (A pause, then with energy.) To obey! or to command! A fearful + dizzying gulf—that absorbs whate'er is precious in the eyes of men. + The trophies of the conqueror—the immortal works of science and of + art—the voluptuous pleasures of the epicure—the whole wealth + encompassed by the seas. To obey! or to command! To be, or not to be! The + space between is as wide as from the lowest depths of hell to the throne + of the Almighty. (In an elevated tone.) From that awful height to look + down securely upon the impetuous whirlpool of mankind, where blind fortune + holds capricious sway! To quaff at the fountainhead unlimited draughts + from the rich cup of pleasure! To hold that armed giant law beneath my + feet in leading-strings, and see it struggle with fruitless efforts + against the sacred power of majesty! To tame the stubborn passions of the + people, and curb them with a playful rein, as a skilful horseman guides + the fiery steed! With a breath—one single breath—to quell the + rising pride of vassals, whilst the prince, with the motion of his + sceptre, can embody even his wildest dreams of fancy! Ah! What thoughts + are these which transport the astounded mind beyond its boundaries! + Prince! To be for one moment prince comprises the essence of a whole + existence. 'Tis not the mere stage of life—but the part we play on + it that gives the value. The murmurs which compose the thunder's roar + might singly lull an infant to repose—but united their crash can + shake the eternal vault of heaven. I am resolved. (Walking up and down + majestically.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE III. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO; LEONORA, entering with a look of anxiety. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA. Pardon me, count. I fear I interrupt your morning rest. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (steps back with astonishment). Indeed, madam, you do surprise me + not a little. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. That never happens to those who love. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Charming countess, you expose your beauty to the rude breath of + morning. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. I know not why I should preserve its small remains for grief to + feed on. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Grief, my love? I thought that to be free from cares of state was + happiness. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. It may be so. Yet do I feel that my weak heart is breaking amidst + this happiness. I come, sir, to trouble you with a trifling request, if + you can spare a moment's time to hear me. These seven months past I have + indulged the pleasing dream of being Countess of Lavagna. It now has + passed away and left a painful weight upon my mind. Amid the pleasures of + my innocent childhood I must seek relief to my disordered spirits. Permit + me, therefore, to return to the arms of my beloved mother—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with astonishment). Countess! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. My heart is a poor trembling thing which you should pity. Even + the least remembrance of my visionary joy might wound my sickly fancy. I + therefore restore the last memorials of your kindness to their rightful + owner. (She lays some trinkets on the table.) This, too, that like a + dagger struck my heart (presenting a letter). This, too (going to rush out + of the door in tears), and I will retain nothing but the wound. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (agitated, hastens after and detains her). Leonora! For God's sake, + stay! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (falls into his arms exhausted). To be your wife was more than I + deserved. But she who was your wife deserved at least respect. How bitter + is the tongue of calumny. How the wives and maidens of Genoa now look down + upon me! "See," they say, "how droops the haughty one whose vanity aspired + to Fiesco!" Cruel punishment of my pride! I triumphed over my whole sex + when Fiesco led me to the altar—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Really, Madonna! All this is most surprising—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (aside). Ah! he changes color—now I revive. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Wait only two days, countess—then judge my conduct—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. To be sacrificed! Let me not speak it in thy chaste presence, oh, + thou virgin day! To be sacrificed to a shameless wanton! Look on me, my + husband! Ah, surely those eyes that make all Genoa tremble, must hide + themselves before a weeping woman—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (extremely confused). No more, signora! No more—— + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (with a melancholy look of reproach). To rend the heart of a poor + helpless woman! Oh, it is so worthy of the manly sex. Into his arms I + threw myself, and on his strength confidingly reposed my feminine + weakness. To him I trusted the heaven of my hopes. The generous man + bestowed it on a—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (interrupting her, with vehemence). No, my Leonora! No! + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. My Leonora! Heaven, I thank thee! These were the angelic sounds + of love once more. I ought to hate thee, faithless man! And yet I fondly + grasp the shadow of thy tenderness. Hate! said I? Hate Fiesco? Oh, believe + it not! Thy perfidy may bid me die, but cannot bid me hate thee. I did not + know my heart——(The MOOR is heard approaching.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Leonora! grant me one trifling favor. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Everything, Fiesco—but indifference. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Well, well (significantly). Till Genoa be two days older, inquire + not! condemn me not! (Leads her politely to another apartment.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE IV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO; the MOOR, entering hastily. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Whence come you thus out of breath? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Quick, my lord! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Has anything run into the net? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (throws the letter on the table with horror). Thou woolly-pated + rascal! How camest thou by that letter? + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. His blood be on thy head! As for the letter, 'tis not to be paid + with gold. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (receives it with astonishment). Art thou mad? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fellow, how many devils hast thou in pay? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. But one, sir, at your service; and he is in your grace's keeping. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. What! Doria's own signature! Whence dost thou bring this paper? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Even so—and that upon the morning of the ducal election, the + third of this month. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Each head of them shall yield thee a ducat. Is there no talk about + my galleys? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (having read the letter throws it aside). Well said. What answer + made she? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with a sneer). Which of themselves may possibly cease sometime + before the day of judgment. Is that all thy business, Hassan? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (ironically). My lord, the affairs of the ladies are next to those of + state. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Without a doubt, and these especially. But for what purpose are + these papers? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. To remove one plague by another. These powders the signora gave me, + to mix one every day with your wife's chocolate. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (starting). Gave thee? + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Donna Julia, Countess Imperiali. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MOOR (impatiently). I am to give your wife mixed with her chocolate. Such + were the orders of Donna Julia Imperiali. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Very well. The latter I can afford—she paid me ready money. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. This order I anticipated, and therefore at my own risk appointed + every one to come at ten o'clock precisely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. The Moor has done his work—the Moor may go. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE V. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, VERRINA, BOURGOGNINO, CALCAGNO, SACCO. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (meeting them). The tempest is approaching: the clouds rash + together. Advance with caution. Let all the doors be locked. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Eight chambers have I made fast behind. Suspicion cannot come + within a hundred steps of us. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Here is no traitor, unless our fear become one. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fear cannot pass my threshold. Welcome he whose mind remains the + same as yesterday. Be seated. (They seat themselves.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (walking up and down). I care not to sit in cold deliberation + when action calls upon me. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Genoese, this hour is eventful. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Thou hast challenged us to consider a plan for dethroning the + tyrant. Demand of us—we are here to answer thee. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. First, then, a question which, as it comes so late, you may think + strange. Who is to fall? (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (leaning over FIESCO'S chair, with an expressive look). The + tyrants. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="2pa346 (137K)" src="images/2pa346.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. The first I hate, I fear the latter. Let Andreas Doria fall! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (with emotion). Andreas? The old Andreas! who perhaps to-morrow + may pay the debt of nature—— + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Andreas? That mild old man! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. The chain of iron, and the cord of silk, alike are bonds. Let + Andreas perish! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (turning away). Calcagno, your plan is politic, but 'tis + detestable. Raphael Sacco, yours? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (embracing him). And with armed hand wrest Fortune's favors + from her. This is the voice of honor, and is mine. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. What! To-night! The tyrants are yet too powerful, our force too + small. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. To-night! And naught prepared? The day is fast declining. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Patroclus to the shades is gone, + And he was more than thou. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (after reading the papers). This is horrible. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Twelve victims at a blow! + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. To-morrow in the senate-house! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ALL. Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! This very night! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. I doubt it not. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Doubtless. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. The plan is good. Now for the distribution of our parts. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (significantly). Genoese, you chose me, of your own accord, as + chief of the conspiracy. Will you obey my further orders? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. As certainly as they shall be the best. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. A life of freedom is well worth some hours of slavery. We obey. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I take the harbor. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. I the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I will learn the watchword. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. I will reconnoitre Genoa. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE VI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, MOOR. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (entering). My lord—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (giving him a paper). Invite all those whose names are written here + to see a play this evening at my palace. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Perhaps to act a part, and pay the admittance with their heads. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE VII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MOOR, alone. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE VIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + An apartment in the house of the COUNTESS IMPERIALI. + + JULIA in dishabille. GIANETTINO enters, agitated. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Good-evening, sister. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (rising). It must be something extraordinary which brings the + crown-prince of Genoa to his sister! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Sister, you are continually surrounded by butterflies and I by + wasps. How is it possible that we should meet? Let's be seated. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. You almost excite my curiosity. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. When did Fiesco visit you last? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. A strange question. As if I burdened my memory with such trifles! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. I must know—positively. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Well, then, he was here yesterday. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. And behaved without reserve? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. As usual. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. As much a coxcomb as ever. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (offended). Brother! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (more vehemently). I say—as much a coxcomb—— + </p> + <p> + JULIA (rises, with indignation). Sir! What do you take me for? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (enraged). Between ourselves—you are an impertinent + jackanapes, and presume upon the credit of your uncle. No one by to hear + us, indeed! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE IX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, LOMELLINO, entering. +</pre> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (to LOMELLINO). Is everything prepared for to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Fear nothing. You have that list at hand? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (embarrassed). My lord—the list? I do not know—I + must have left it at home in my other pocket. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. But it will cause great consternation. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Have you given the countess any intimation of it? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Go! You're a rude unmannered creature. (GIANETTINO, going, meets + FIESCO.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE X. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former; FIESCO. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO (stepping back). Ha! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with politeness). Prince, you spare me a visit which I was just + now about to pay. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. And I, too, count, am pleased to meet you here. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (approaching JULIA courteously). Your charms, signora, always + surpass expectation. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Fie! that in another would sound ambiguous—but I'm shocked at + my dishabille—excuse me, count—(going). + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Oh, how ready are you men to cause confusion! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (aside to LOMELLINO). Poor frivolous fellow! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JULIA. That is trifling. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. The cunning flatterer! How artfully he lays his plans to ensnare + me. No! I have a headache, and will stay at home. + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + JULIA (blushing, retires to a side apartment). Laura! + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (approaching FIESCO). Count, you remember an unpleasant + circumstance—— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. I shall never think of it without craving your pardon from my + inmost soul—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Nor I without forgiving you from my heart's core. (JULIA returns, + her dress a little altered.) + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Count, I just now recollect that you are going to cruise + against the Turks—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. This evening we weigh anchor. On that account I had some + apprehensions from which my friend Doria's kindness may deliver me. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (obsequiously). Most willingly. Command my utmost influence! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The circumstance might cause a concourse toward the harbor, and + about my palace, which the duke your uncle might misinterpret. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (in a friendly manner). I'll manage that for you. Continue your + preparations, and may success attend your enterprise! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with a smile). I'm much obliged to you. + </p> + <p> + SCENE XI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former—A GERMAN of the body-guard. +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO. What now? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. Is that all? Report it no further. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (angrily). Out upon this fool's zeal! (To LOMELLINO, aside.) + These are undoubtedly my Milanese. + </p> + <p> + GERMAN. Does your grace command that they should be arrested? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (aloud to LOMELLINO). Look to them, Lomellino. (To the GERMAN.) + Begone! 'Tis all well. (Aside to LOMELLINO.) Bid that German beast be + silent. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt LOMELLINO and GERMAN. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (in another part of the room with JULIA—looks toward + GIANETTINO.). Our friend Doria seems displeased. May I inquire the reason? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. No wonder. These eternal messages. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit hastily. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. The play awaits us, too, signora. May I offer you my hand? + </p> + <p> + JULIA. Stay, let me take my cloak. 'Tis no tragedy I hope, count? It would + haunt me in my dreams. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (sarcastically). 'Twill excite immoderate laughter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [He hands her out—the curtain falls. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE I. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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. + +</pre> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE II. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ZENTURIONE entering. +</pre> + <p> + SENTINELS AT THE GATE (call out). Who goes there? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. A friend of Lavagna. (Goes across the court to the palace on + the right.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL THERE. Back! (ZENTURIONE starts, and goes to the door on the + left.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL ON THE LEFT. Back! + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (stands still with surprise. A pause. Then to the SENTINEL on + the left). Friend, which is the way to the theatre? + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL. Don't know. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (walks up and down with increasing surprise—then to the + SENTINEL on the right). Friend, when does the play begin? + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL. Don't know. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (astonished, walks up and down. Perceives the weapons; + alarmed). Friend, what mean these? + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL. Don't know. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (wraps himself up in his cloak, alarmed). Strange! + </p> + <p> + SENTINELS AT THE GATE (calling out). Who goes there? + </p> + <p> + SCENE III. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, ZIBO entering. +</pre> + <p> + ZIBO. A friend of Lavagna. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Zibo, where are we? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. What mean you? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Look around you, Zibo. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Where? What? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. All the doors are guarded! + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Here are arms—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. No one that will answer—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. 'Tis strange! + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. What is it o'clock? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Past eight. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. How bitter cold it is! + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Eight was the hour appointed. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (shaking his head). 'Tis not all as it should be here. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Fiesco means to jest with us—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. To-morrow will be the ducal election. Zibo, all's not right + here, depend upon it. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Hush! hush! + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. The right wing of the palace is full of lights. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Do you hear nothing? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. A confused murmuring within—and—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. The sound of clattering arms—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Horrible! horrible! + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. A carriage—it stops at the gate! + </p> + <p> + SENTINELS AT THE GATE (calling out). Who goes there? + </p> + <p> + SCENE IV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, four of the ASSERATO family. +</pre> + <p> + ASSERATO (entering). A friend of FIESCO. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. They are the four Asserati. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Good evening, friends! + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. We are going to the play. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. A pleasant journey to you! + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Are you not going also? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Walk on. We'll just take a breath of air first. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. 'Twill soon begin. Come. (Going.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL. Back! + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. What can this mean? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (laughing). To keep you from the palace. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Here's some mistake—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. That's plain enough. (Music is heard in the right wing.) + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Do you hear the symphony? The comedy is going to begin. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. I think it has begun, and we are acting our parts as fools. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. I'm not over warm—I'll return home. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Arms here, too? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Poh! Mere play-house articles. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Shall we stand waiting, like ghosts upon the banks of Acheron? + Come, let us to a tavern! (All six go towards the gate.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINELS (calling loudly). Back! Back! + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Death and the devil! We are caught. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. My sword shall open a passage! + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Put it up! The count's a man of honor. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. We are sold! betrayed! The comedy was a bait, and we're caught in a + trap. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. Heaven forbid! And yet I tremble for the event. + </p> + <p> + SCENE V. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former—VERRINA, SACCO, and NOBLES. +</pre> + <p> + SENTINELS. Who goes there? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Friends of the house. (Seven NOBLES enter with him.) + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. These are his confidants. Now all will be explained. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I'm glad of it. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO (to VERRINA). Verrina, you come opportunely to clear up the mystery. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. How so? What mean you? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. We are invited to a comedy. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Then we are going the same way. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (impatiently). Yes—the way of all flesh. You see—the + doors are guarded. Why guard the doors? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Why these sentinels? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. We stand here like criminals beneath the gallows. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. The count will come himself. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. 'Twere well if he came a little faster. My patience begins to + fail. (All the NOBLES walk up and down in the background.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (coming out of the palace, to VERRINA). How goes it in the + harbor? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. They're all safe on board. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. The palace is full of soldiers. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. 'Tis almost nine. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. The count is long in coming. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. And yet too quick to gain his wishes. Bourgognino! There is a + thought that freezes me. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Father, be not too hasty. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. It is impossible to be too hasty where delay is fatal. I must + commit a second murder to justify the first. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. But—when must Fiesco fall? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. When Genoa is free Fiesco dies! + </p> + <p> + SENTINELS. Who goes there? + </p> + <p> + SCENE VI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former, FIESCO. +</pre> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (in the same manner). As you wish. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to BOURGOGNINO). And you? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Quite prepared. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to SACCO). And you? + </p> + <p> + SACCO. All's right. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. And Calcagno? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Is not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (vehemently, and agitated). Enough! Genoa shall be free! Be + this our shout of onset against hell itself! + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. And may he who is not roused by it pant at the slavish oar till the + last trumpet break his chains—— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Be not too certain. Upon the left I saw countenances that grew + pale, and knees that tottered. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (enraged). Twelve senators! Infernal villany! Seize each a + sword! (All, except two, eagerly take up the weapons that lie in + readiness.) + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Thy name, too, Bourgognino, is written there. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Ay, and if Heaven permit, it shall be written to-day upon the + throat of Gianettino. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Two swords remain—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Ah! What sayest thou? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Two amongst us have not taken swords. + </p> + <p> + ASSERATO. My brothers cannot bear the sight of blood—pray spare + them! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINEL. Who is there? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (without, eagerly). Open the gate! A friend! for God's sake, + open! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. It is Calcagno—heavens! What can this mean? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Open the gate, soldiers. + </p> + <p> + SCENE VII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former—CALCAGNO, out of breath. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. All is lost! all is lost! Fly, every one that can! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. What's lost? Have they flesh of brass? Are our swords made of + rushes? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Consider, Calcagno! An error now is fatal. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. We are betrayed! Your Moor, Lavagna, is the rascal! I come from + the senate-house. He had an audience of the duke. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Home—to kill my Bertha—and then return to fall + with thee. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Well, if you can laugh I'll believe you—or never more think + you man. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (low). My sudden fright and your impending danger drove me away + in haste—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (aloud). See how our countrymen still tremble. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (aloud). You should have carried on the jest. (Low.) For God's + sake, friend, what will this artifice avail us? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. The Moor's first word must have been conspiracy; for the old man + started back as pale as ashes. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SENTINELS. Who is without? + </p> + <p> + A VOICE. The guard of the duke's. (The NOBLES rush about the court in + despair.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO (as if coming from the palace). Three GERMAN SOLDIERS + bringing the MOOR, bound. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Who calls me? + </p> + <p> + GERMANS. Bring us to the count! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The count is here, who wants me? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt GERMANS, the NOBLES return. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE IX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, the CONSPIRATORS, MOOR (looking at them unconcerned.) +</pre> + <p> + THE CONSPIRATORS (shuddering at the sight of the MOOR). Ha! what means + this? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (after reading the note with suppressed anger). Genoese, the danger + is past—but the conspiracy is likewise at an end—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (astonished). What! Are the Dorias dead? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Speak, count, we are amazed! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Well, Fiesco? + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + CONSPIRATORS. Bind him! throw him down! + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Are they thoughts of duty? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (enraged). What? Shall that scoundrel live,—he who has + betrayed us all? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit, laughing. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE X. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, CONSPIRATORS. Enter SERVANT. +</pre> + <p> + SERVANT. The Countess Imperiali has already asked three times for your + grace. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LEONORA, ARABELLA, and ROSA. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ROSA. You are to conceal yourself behind the tapestry—what can the + count intend? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Fear nothing; our timidity subdues our curiosity. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ROSA (alarmed). Oh, heavens! what noise is that without? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. It is the soldier who stands there as sentinel. (The SENTINEL + without calls, "Who goes there?") + </p> + <p> + LEONORA. Some one approaches. Quick! behind the curtain. (They conceal + themselves.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JULIA and FIESCO, in conversation. +</pre> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. To this spot where timid love grows bold, and where emotions + mingle unrestrained. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Rather, Julia, thy blushes would inflame my passions, and urge + them to their utmost height. (Kisses her hand eagerly.) + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (more pressing). Why so alarmed, my love? Shall the mistress fear + her slave? + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with levity). And what loss was that? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. And yet, my Julia—where could'st thou bestow this treasure + better than on my endless passion? + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (with astonishment). Count! what sudden change is this? + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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). + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + JULIA (with a shriek). Unheard-of treachery! + </p> + <p> + SCENE XIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The CONSPIRATORS, entering in a body—LADIES on + the other side—FIESCO, JULIA, and LEONORA. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA. Oh, my husband, that was too cruel! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + JULIA (biting her lips with rage). Good! Good! Very good, Sir! (Going.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JULIA (starting up). It is not to be borne. But tremble! Doria rules in + Genoa, and I am Doria's sister—— + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (to FIESCO, in a supplicating tone). She weeps, my Lodovico. May + your Leonora, trembling, entreat you? + </p> + <p> + JULIA (enraged, to LEONORA). Silence, detested woman! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XIV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LEONORA and FIESCO. +</pre> + <p> + LEONORA (approaching with anxiety). Fiesco! Fiesco! I understand but half + your meaning; yet I begin to tremble. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (clasping her hands together, and throwing herself into a chair). + O God! My very fears! I am undone! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (tenderly seizing her hand). Be calm, my love. The only ball will + not strike me. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Be not alarmed. Fortune and I are better friends. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (pacing the room in great emotion). To be irresolute is the most + certain danger. He that aspires to greatness must be daring. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I understand you not. + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (starting). Leonora, cease! These thoughts are dreadful. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (walking about much agitated). Leonora, cease! The bridge is raised + behind me—— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XV. + </p> + <p> + CONSPIRATORS. The hour is come! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to LEONORA, firmly). Farewell! forever unless Genoa to-morrow be + laid prostrate at thy feet. (Going to rush out.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (cries out). The countess faints! (LEONORA in a swoon—all + run to support her.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT V. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE I. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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. +</pre> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS (appearing at the balcony). Who rings there? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. A man more terrible than your raging sea—John Louis Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS (laughs). You jest, my friend. Come in the daytime to play your + tricks. Midnight suits them badly. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Dost thou then despise thy monitor? + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. I thank him and retire to rest. Fiesco, wearied with his rioting, + sleeps, and has no time to think of Doria. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Fiesco has a noble mind. I never injured him, and he will not + betray me. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Fiesco has a noble mind and yet betrays thee. He gives thee proof + of both. + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. There is a guard, which would defy Fiesco's power, unless he led + against them legions of spirits. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (scornfully). That guard I should be glad to see to despatch it + with a message for eternity. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE II. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GIANETTINO (in a scarlet mantle). LOMELLINO—(Servants going + before them with torches). +</pre> + <p> + GIANETTINO (stops). Who was it that commanded the alarm to be beat? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. A cannon was fired on board one of the galleys. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO. The slaves perhaps have risen in mutiny. (Firing heard at the + gate of St. Thomas.) + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. Hark! A shot! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE III. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former; BOURGOGNINO, with some CONSPIRATORS, coming + from the gate of St. Thomas. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Sebastian Lascaro was a brave soldier. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. He defended himself like a bear till he fell. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (steps back startled). What do I hear? (to his servants). Stop! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Who goes there with torches? + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (to GIANETTINO). Prince, they are enemies. Turn to the left. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (calls to then peremptorily). Who goes there with the torches? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Stand! Your watchword? + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (draws his sword fiercely). Loyalty and Doria! + </p> + <p> + 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). + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (falling). Murder! Murder! Murder! Revenge me, Lomellino—— + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO and SERVANTS (flying). Help! Murder! Murder! + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE (halloing with vehemence). Doria is down. Stop the Count + Lomellino! (LOMELLINO is taken). + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO (kneeling). Spare but my life, I'll join your party. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (looking at GIANETTINO). Is this monster yet alive? Let the + coward fly. (LOMELLINO escapes.) + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. St. Thomas' gate our own! Gianettino slain! Haste some of you + and tell Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + GIANETTINO (heaving himself from the ground in agony). Fiesco! Damnation! + (Dies.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE IV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ANDREAS DORIA, GERMANS. +</pre> + <p> + GERMAN. The storm drove that way. Mount your horse, duke! + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Let me cast a parting look at Genoa's towers! No; it is not a + dream. Andreas is betrayed. + </p> + <p> + GERMAN. The enemy is all around us. Away! Fly! Beyond the boundaries! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + GERMAN. Danger is near. Fly, prince! (Drums beat.) + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Hark, Germans, bark! These are the Genoese whose chains I broke. + (Hiding his face.) Do your countrymen thus recompense their benefactors? + </p> + <p> + GERMAN. Away! Away! while we stay here, and notch their swords upon our + German bones. (CALCAGNO comes nearer.) + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. Save yourselves! Leave me! and go, declare the horrid story to + the shuddering nations that Genoa slew its father—— + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (calls out). Who goes there? What have we here? + </p> + <p> + GERMAN. German blows—(retreat fighting, and carry off the body of + GIANETTINO.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE V. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LEONORA, in male attire, ARABELLA following— + they walk along timidly. +</pre> + <p> + ARABELLA. Come, my lady, pray let us hasten onward. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. For heaven's sake, my lady! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. No, signora. He is the great deliverer of Genoa. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA (clasping her hands together). All gracious heaven! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Hark! hark! How terrible it sounds yonder, from the tower of the + Dominicans! God have mercy on us! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. My gracious lady, how wildly do you rave. (Alarm-bells and drums + are heard.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Great God! You will not act thus madly? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + SACCO (entering with CONSPIRATORS). Who goes there—Doria or Fiesco? + </p> + <p> + LEONORA (with enthusiasm). Fiesco and liberty. (Retires into another + street. A tumult, ARABELLA lost in the crowd.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SACCO, with a number of followers. CALCAGNO, + meeting him with others. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Andreas has escaped. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Unwelcome tidings to Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Numbers have flocked already to our standard, and all the gates are + ours. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I hear they still are fighting desperately at the citadel. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. Bourgognino is amongst them. Where is Verrina? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. He guards, like Cerberus, the passage between Genoa and the sea—an + anchovy could scarcely pass him. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. I'll rouse the suburbs—— + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. I'll away to the market-place. Drummers, strike up! (They march + off, drums beating.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MOOR. A troop of THIEVES, with lighted matches. +</pre> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE VIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOURGOGNINO—BERTHA, disguised as a boy. +</pre> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Rest here, dear youth; thou art in safety. Dost thou bleed? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (in a feigned voice). No; not at all. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (with energy). Rise, then, I'll lead thee where thou mayst + gain wounds for Genoa—wounds beautiful like these. (Uncovering his + arm.) + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (starting). Heavens! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Art thou frightened, youth? Too early didst thou put on the + man. What age hast thou? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Fifteen years. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. That is unfortunate! For this night's business thou art five + years too young. Who is thy father? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. The truest citizen in Genoa. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Gently, boy! That name belongs alone to the father of my + betrothed bride. Dost thou know the house of Verrina? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. I should think so. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (eagerly). And knowest thou his lovely daughter? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Her name is Bertha. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (in a soft voice). Scipio! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). By my sword! I know that voice. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (falling upon his neck). By my heart! I am well known here. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Bertha! (Alarm-bells sound in the suburbs—a tumult— + BOURGOGNINO and BERTHA embrace, and are lost in the crowd.) [NOTE] + </p> + <p> + [NOTE] In lieu of this scene Schiller substituted the following, during + his stay at Leipzig in 1786, for the use of the theatre there:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (calling out loudly). Thou art free, Bertha! The tyrant is + dead! This sword has passed through his heart. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (running into his arms). My deliverer! my angel! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. Oh, heavens! This dreadful uproar, these alarm-bells, then, were + for me? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. For thee, Bertha! They are our marriage chimes. Leave this + horrid dungeon and follow me to the altar. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. God bless you, my children! + </p> + <p> + BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (falling at his feet). O my father! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (together). How, my father? Will you not accompany + us thither? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (holds him back alarmed). What is your purpose! I'll go with + you. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (hanging anxiously on BOURGOGNINO). Heavens! what means this, + Bourgognino? What is my father meditating? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO (determinedly). Verrina, I must stay; the danger is not yet + past. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SCENE IX. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO and ZIBO from different sides. Attendants. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO (in great anger). Who set fire to those houses? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. The citadel is taken. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Who set those houses on fire? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO (to the attendants). Despatch a guard to apprehend the villains. + (Some soldiers go.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Will they make me an incendiary? Hasten with the engines! + (Attendants go.) But are you sure that Gianettino has fallen? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. So they say. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (wildly). They say so only! Who say? Declare, upon your honor, has + he escaped? + </p> + <p> + ZIBO (doubtfully). If I may trust my eyes against the assertion of a + nobleman, then—Gianettino lives. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (starting). Zibo, your eyes may cost your head—— + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. 'Tis but eight minutes since I saw him in the crowd dressed in his + scarlet cloak and yellow plume. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + SCENE X. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, SACCO, the MOOR, SOLDIERS. +</pre> + <p> + SACCO. We found this Moor throwing a lighted match into the convent of the + Jesuits. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Plague on it! that's an awkward piece of business. Is there no way + out of it? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. No. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Send me awhile to the galleys—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (beckoning to the attendants). To the gallows. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (impudently). Then I'll turn Christian. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The church refuses the dregs of infidelity. + </p> + <p> + MOOR (in an insinuating manner). At least send me drunk into eternity! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Sober. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. Don't hang me up, however, beside a Christian church! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. A man of honor keeps his word. I promised thee a gallows of thy + own. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. No more prating, heathen! we've business of more consequence. + </p> + <p> + MOOR. But, stay! Perhaps the rope may break? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (to SACCO). Let it be double. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO—LEONORA appearing at a distance, in the scarlet + cloak of GIANETTINO. +</pre> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIESCO, CALCAGNO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO: + SOLDIERS, with drums and colors. +</pre> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. And I come to inform you that two-thirds of Genoa have declared + for our party, and swear obedience to Fiesco's standard. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. By me Verrina sends his greeting to you from the admiral's galley, + with the dominion of the sea. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. By me the governor of the city sends his keys and staff of + office. + </p> + <p> + SACCO. And in me (kneeling) the less and greater senate of the republic + kneel down before their master, and supplicate for favor and protection. + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Let me be the first to welcome the illustrious conquerer within + the walls. Bow your colors! Hail, Duke of Genoa! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. Shall this murderous villain lie here, and hide his infamy in + obscurity? + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Plant his head upon a halberd. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. Let his mangled carcass sweep the streets! (They hold lights toward + the body.) + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (terrified and in a low voice). Look, Genoese! By heavens, this + is not the face of Gianettino! (All look at the body.) + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="2pa384 (145K)" src="images/2pa384.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SCENE XIII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The former—ARABELLA enters weeping. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (approaching her—with a low and trembling voice.) Was Leonora + thy mistress? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA (with pleasure). Are you there, my most gracious and dear good + lord? Be not displeased with us. We could no longer restrain her. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (in alarm). Restrain her! Wretch! From what? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. From following—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (violently). Ha! From following what? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. The tumult—— + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. What was her dress? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. A Scarlet mantle. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (in a transport of rage). Get thee to the abyss of hell! The + mantle? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA. Lay here upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + SOME OF THE CONSPIRATORS (talking apart). 'Twas here that Gianettino was + killed. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO (timidly). Most gracious duke! + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + 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.) + </p> + <p> + CALCAGNO. She was, indeed, a most excellent lady. + </p> + <p> + ZIBO. This event must be concealed from the people. 'Twould damp the ardor + of our party and elevate the enemy with hope. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt, with music and colors. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XIV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ANDREAS, LOMELLINO. +</pre> + <p> + ANDREAS. Yonder they go, with shouts of exultation. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. They are intoxicated with success. The gates are deserted and + all are hastening toward the senate-house. + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS. It was my nephew only whom Genoa could not brook. My nephew is no + more. Hear, Lomellino! + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. What, duke—still—do you still hope? + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS (sternly). And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with the + name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale; what + counterpoise in yours? + </p> + <p> + ANDREAS (with dignity and animation). Heaven! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LOMELLINO. I obey; but I despair of success. (Going.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit—LOMELLINO hastens into another street—Shouts are heard, + with trumpets and drums. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XV. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VERRINA (coming from the harbor), BERTHA, and BOURGOGNINO. +</pre> + <p> + VERRINA. What mean these shouts? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. They proclaim Fiesco duke. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA (to BOURGOGNINO, timidly). Scipio! My father's looks are dreadful—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Leave me, my children. O Genoa! Genoa! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. The populace adore him, and with transports hailed him as + their duke. The nobles looked on with horror, but dared not oppose it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. I beseech thee, say, on what dreadful project does my father + brood? + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. Didst thou understand thy father? + </p> + <p> + BERTHA. He bade us fly. Merciful Heaven! Fly on our bridal day! + </p> + <p> + BOURGOGNINO. He spoke it, and we must obey. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt towards the harbor. +</pre> + <p> + SCENE XVI. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VERRINA, and FIESCO (in the ducal habit), meeting. +</pre> + <p> + FIESCO. Welcome, Verrina! I was anxious to meet thee. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. I also sought Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Does Verrina perceive no alteration in his friend? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with reserve). I wish for none. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. But do you see none? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (without looking at him). I should hope not! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. I ask, do you perceive none? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (after a slight glance). None! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (with astonishment). Forbid it, Heaven! That price is too enormous + even for a dukedom. + </p> + <p> + VEERINA (muttering). Hum! Is liberty then out of fashion, that republics + are so lightly thrown away upon the first that offers himself? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (bites his lips). Verrina, say this to no one but Fiesco. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (angrily). It were as easy to tear Italy from the bosom of the + ocean as to shake this stubborn enthusiast from his prejudices. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. The scoundrel set fire to the city. + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Yet the scoundrel left the laws untouched. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Verrina presumes upon my friendship. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (sharply). Let them be the first fruits of my tyranny. Go, and + announce to them their deliverance. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Man, thou art dreadful; yet I know not why I must follow thee. + (Both go toward the sea.) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (much affected). Be still, my friend. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Peace. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Rise, and no longer irritate me! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + FIESCO. Why do you pull my cloak? It falls—— + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (with bitter irony). If the purple falls the duke must after it. + (He pushes him into the sea.) + </p> + <p> + FIESCO (calls out of the waves). Help, Genoa! Help! Help thy duke! + (Sinks.) + </p> + <p> + SCENE XVII. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CALCAGNO, SACCO, ZIBO, ZENTURIONE, Conspirators, People. +</pre> + <p> + CALCAGNO (crying out). Fiesco! Fiesco! Andreas is returned—half + Genoa joins Andreas. Where is Fiesco? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA (in a firm tone). Drowning. + </p> + <p> + ZENTURIONE. Does hell or madness prompt thy answer? + </p> + <p> + VERRINA. Drowned—if that sound better. I go to join Andreas. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (The CONSPIRATORS stand in groups, astonished. The curtain falls.) + (The CONSPIRATORS stand in groups, astonished. The curtain falls.) + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fiesco or, The Genoese Conspiracy +by Friedrich Schiller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIESCO OR, THE GENOESE CONSPIRACY *** + +***** This file should be named 6783-h.htm or 6783-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/6/7/8/6783/ + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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