[Exit.
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.
[Exit.
SCENE X.
An apartment in the house of VERRINA.BERTHA on a couch, supporting her head on her hand—VERRINA enters with a look of dejection.
BERTHA (starts up frightened). Heavens! He is here!
VERRINA (stops, looking at her with surprise). My daughter affrighted at her father!
BERTHA. Fly! fly! or let me fly! Father, your sight is dreadful to me!
VERRINA. Dreadful to my child!—my only child!
BERTHA (looking at him mournfully). Oh! you must seek another. I am no more your daughter.
VERRINA. What, does my tenderness distress you?
BERTHA. It weighs me down to the earth.
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.
BERTHA (casting a long and earnest look at him). Wretched father!
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!
BERTHA (tearing herself from him). Great God! You know, then——
VERRINA (trembling). What?
BERTHA. My virgin honor——
VERRINA (raging). What?
BERTHA. Last night——
VERRINA (furiously.) Speak! What!
BERTHA. Force. (Sinks down upon the side of the sofa.)
VERRINA (after a long pause, with a hollow voice). One word more, my daughter—thy last! Who was it?
BERTHA. Alas, what an angry deathlike paleness! Great God, support me! How his words falter! His whole frame trembles!
VERRINA. I cannot comprehend it. Tell me, my daughter—who?
BERTHA. Compose yourself, my best, my dearest father!
VERRINA (ready to faint). For God's sake—who?
BERTHA. A mask——
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?
BERTHA. Taller.
VERRINA (eagerly). His hair? Black, and curled?
BERTHA. As black as jet and curled?
VERRINA (retiring from her in great emotion). O God! my brain! my brain! His voice?
BERTHA. Was deep and harsh.
VERRINA (impetuously). What color was—No! I'll hear no more! 'His cloak! What color?
BERTHA. I think his cloak was green.
VERRINA (covering his face with his hands, falls on the couch). No more. This can be nothing but a dream!
BERTHA (wringing her hands). Merciful heaven! Is this my father?
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?
BERTHA. Father, you make me tremble——
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?
BERTHA (shuddering). I know not.
VERRINA. Foolish girl! He said nothing—but (rising hastily and snatching up a sword) he seized an instrument of death——
BERTHA (terrified, rushes into his arms). Great God! What would you do, my father?
VERRINA (throwing away the sword). No! There is still justice left in Genoa.
SCENE XI.
SACCO, CALCAGNO, the former.
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.
SACCO (to CALCAGNO). But what do I see? A naked sword! Verrina staring wildly! Bertha in tears!
CALCAGNO. By heavens, it is so. Sacco! some strange event has happened here.
VERRINA (placing two chairs). Be seated.
SACCO. Your looks, Verrina, fill us with apprehension.
CALCAGNO. I never saw you thus before—Bertha is in tears, or your grief would have seemed to presage our country's ruin.
VERRINA. Ruin! Pray sit down. (They both seat themselves.)
CALCAGNO. My friend, I conjure you——
VERRINA. Listen to me.
CALCAGNO (to SACCO). I have sad misgivings.
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?
SACCO. No.
CALCAGNO. No one, by the God of heaven!
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?
CALCAGNO. No. Your daughter is a bright example to her sex.
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.
SACCO and CALCAGNO. Forbid it, heaven! (BERTHA on the couch, appears much affected.)
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.
SACCO and CALCAGNO (starting up with emotion). Gianettino Doria!
BERTHA (with a shriek, seeing BOURGOGNINO enter). Cover me, walls, beneath your ruins! My Scipio!
SCENE XII.
BOURGOGNINO—the former.
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.)
VERRINA. What, youth! Wouldst thou mix thy heart's pure tide with a polluted stream?
BOURGOGNINO (clasps his hand to his sword, but suddenly draws it back). 'Twas her father said it.
VERRINA. No—every rascal in Italy will say it. Are you contented with the leavings of other men's repasts?
BOURGOGNINO. Old man, do not make me desperate.
CALCAGNO. Bourgognino! he speaks the truth.
BOURGOGNINO (enraged, rushing towards BERTHA). The truth? Has the girl then mocked me?
CALCAGNO. No! no! Bourgognino. The girl is spotless as an angel.
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?
VERRINA. My child is guiltless.
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?
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!
[A deep silence—horror is marked on the countenances of allpresent. VERRINA casts a scrutinizing look at each of them.
BOURGOGNINO. Inhuman father! What is it thou hast done? Why pour forth this horrible and monstrous curse against thy guiltless daughter?
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.
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.)
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!
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.)
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.)
VERRINA (with a calm look). Through me Genoa thanks you. Now go, my daughter; rejoice to be the mighty sacrifice for thy country!
BOURGOGNINO (embracing her as she is departing). Go! confide in God—and Bourgognino. The same day shall give freedom to Bertha and to Genoa.
[BERTHA retires.
SCENE XIII.
The former—without BERTHA.
CALCAGNO. Genoese, before we take another step, one word——
VERRINA. I guess what you would say.
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?
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——
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!
[The scene closes.
SCENE I.—
An Ante-chamber in the Palace of FIESCO.LEONORA and ARABELLA.
ARABELLA. No, no, you were mistaken: your eyes were blinded by jealousy.
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.
SCENE II.
The former and JULIA.
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.
[ARABELLA goes out, and returns soon afterwards.
LEONORA. Do you wish that I should invite company to meet you?
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.
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.
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.
LEONORA. 'Tis my misfortune, signora, that my want of spirits prevents me from enjoying the pleasure of your company.
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.
LEONORA. I know but one way, Countess. Let yours ever be the sympathetic medium.
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.
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.)
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.)
LEONORA (smiling at ARABELLA). If he were, he would not wish to mix with such assemblies.
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?
LEONORA (offering her a cup of chocolate). You, madam—if he have lost it.
JULIA. Good! This sting shall return into your own bosom. Tremble for your mockery! But before you tremble—blush!
LEONORA. Do you then know what it is to blush, signora? But why not? 'Tis a toilet trick.
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.
LEONORA (offering her hand with a significant look). Countess, my anger ne'er shall trouble you.
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?
LEONORA (blushing and confused). What do you say? Let me hope the conclusion is too hasty.
JULIA. I think so, too. The heart waits not the guidance of the senses —real sentiment needs no breastwork of outward ornament.
LEONORA. Heavens! Where did you learn such a truth?
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.)
LEONORA (with extreme indignation). My picture! Given to you! (Throws herself into a chair, much affected.) Cruel, Fiesco!
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.
[Exeunt JULIA and ARABELLA.
SCENE III.
LEONORA, CALCAGNO entering.
CALCAGNO. Did not the Countess Imperiali depart in anger? You, too, so excited, madam?
LEONORA (violently agitated.) No! This is unheard-of cruelty.
CALCAGNO. Heaven and earth! Do I behold you in tears?
LEONORA. Thou art a friend of my inhuman—Away, leave my sight!
CALCAGNO. Whom do you call inhuman? You affright me——
LEONORA. My husband. Is he not so?
CALCAGNO. What do I hear!
LEONORA. 'Tis but a piece of villany common enough among your sex!
CALCAGNO (grasping her hand with vehemence). Lady, I have a heart for weeping virtue.
LEONORA. You are a man—your heart is not for me.
CALCAGNO. For you alone—yours only. Would that you knew how much, how truly yours——
LEONORA. Man, thou art untrue. Thy words would be refuted by thy actions——
CALCAGNO. I swear to you——
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.
CALCAGNO. Nay, madam, your anger makes you unjust. Is the whole sex to answer for the crime of one?
LEONORA. I tell thee in that one was centred all my affection for the sex. In him I will detest them all.
CALCAGNO. Countess,—you once bestowed your hand amiss. Would you again make trial, I know one who would deserve it better.
LEONORA. The limits of creation cannot bound your falsehoods. I'll hear no more.
CALCAGNO. Oh, that you would retract this cruel sentence in my arms!
LEONORA (with astonishment). Speak out. In thy arms!
CALCAGNO. In my arms, which open themselves to receive a forsaken woman, and to console her for the love she has lost.
LEONORA (fixing her eyes on him). Love?
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.
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.
CALCAGNO (rising, confounded). Countess!
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.
CALCAGNO (hastily). Perjury, madam, you cannot be guilty of.
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.
CALCAGNO (stands as if thunderstruck, looks after her, then striking his forehead). Fool that I am. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
The MOOR and FIESCO.
FIESCO. Who was it that just now departed?
MOOR. The Marquis Calcagno.
FIESCO. This handkerchief was left upon the sofa. My wife has been here.
MOOR. I met her this moment in great agitation.
FIESCO. This handkerchief is moist (puts it in his pocket). Calcagno here? And Leonora agitated? This evening thou must learn what has happened.
MOOR. Miss Bella likes to hear that she is fair. She will inform me.
FIESCO. Well—thirty hours are past. Hast thou executed my commission?
MOOR. To the letter, my lord.
FIESCO (seating himself). Then tell me how they talk of Doria, and of the government.
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.
FIESCO. That may perhaps be true. But do they not know of any dog against that cat?
MOOR (with an affected carelessness). The town was murmuring much of a certain—poh—why, I have actually forgotten the name.
FIESCO (rising). Blockhead! That name is as easy to be remembered as 'twas difficult to achieve. Has Genoa more such names than one?
MOOR. No—it cannot have two Counts of Lavagna.
FIESCO (seating himself). That is something. And what do they whisper about my gayeties?
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——
FIESCO (turns away contemptuously). To hear such things from such a scoundrel!
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.
FIESCO. One fox smells out another. What say they to my passion for the Countess Imperiali?
MOOR. What I would rather be excused from repeating.
FIESCO. Out with it—the bolder the more welcome. What are their murmurings?
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——
FIESCO. What? I command thee!
MOOR (retreating). That you are a fool!
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?
MOOR (humorously). Why, Mr. Fool, they looked like poor knaves——
FIESCO. Fool? Fellow, art thou mad?
MOOR. Pardon! I had a mind for a few more sequins.
FIESCO (laughing, gives him another sequin). Well. "Like poor knaves."
MOOR. Who receive pardon at the very block. They are yours both soul and body.
FIESCO. I'm glad of it. They turn the scale among the populace of Genoa.
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.
FIESCO. That thought was better than the soil which gave it birth. These words are favorable; but do they bespeak actions of equal import?
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.
FIESCO. Hush!—hark! What is that confused noise?
MOOR (going to the window). It is the tumult of the crowd returning from the senate-house.
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?
MOOR. Sir, I have stolen and pawned it.
FIESCO. That I am glad to hear.
MOOR. But, how! Are there no more sequins for me?
FIESCO. No. You forgot the cloak.
MOOR. Ah! I was wrong in pointing out the thief.
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.
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.
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.
SCENE V.
FIESCO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO, and ASSERATO, rushing in.
ZIBO. Count, impute it to our anger that we enter thus unannounced.
ZENTURIONE. I have been mortally affronted by the duke's nephew in the face of the whole senate.
ASSERATO. Doria has trampled on the golden book of which each noble Genoese is a leaf.
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.
ZIBO. The whole nobility are outraged in his person; the whole nobility must rise and vent their rage in fire and flames.
ASSERATO. The rights of the nation are trodden under foot; the liberty of the republic has received a deadly blow.
FIESCO. You raise my expectation to the utmost.
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——
ZENTURIONE. Wanting! I gave my vote for Zibo. Doria—think of the wound inflicted on my honor—Doria——
ASSERATO (interrupting him). Such a thing was never heard of since the sea washed the walls of Genoa.
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——
ZIBO. "Senators, 'tis good-for-nothing—'tis pierced through. Lomellino is procurator."
ZENTURIONE. "Lomellino is procurator." And threw his sword upon the table.
ASSERATO. And called out, "'Tis good-for-nothing!" and threw his sword upon the table.
FIESCO (after a pause). On what are you resolved?
ZENTURIONE. The republic is wounded to its very heart. On what are we resolved?
FIESCO. Zenturione, rushes may yield to a breath, but the oak requires a storm. I ask, on what are you resolved?
ZIBO. Methinks the question shall be, on what does Genoa resolve?
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.
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——
FIESCO (sarcastically). Like frighted pigeons when the vulture darts upon the dovecot.
ZENTURIONE. No! (fiercely)—like powder-barrels when a match falls on them.
ZIBO. The people are enraged. What may we not expect from the fury of the wounded boar!
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.
ZENTURIONE (vehemently). Yes, when the contending elements are reconciled, and when the north pole meets the south. Come, friends.
FIESCO. Stay! stay! Upon what project are you brooding, Zibo?
ZIBO. On nothing.
FIESCO (leading them to a statue). Look at this figure.
ZENTURIONE. It is the Florentine Venus. Why point to her?
FIESCO. At least she pleases you.
ZIBO. Undoubtedly, or we should be but poor Italians. But why this question now?
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.
ZIBO. And then take for our reward?
FIESCO. Then your search will have convicted fancy of deceit——
ZENTURIONE (impatiently). And what shall we have gained?
FIESCO. Gained? The decision of the long-protracted contest between art and nature.
ZENTURIONE (eagerly). And what then?
FIESCO. Then, then? (Laughing.) Then your attention will have been diverted from observing the fall of Genoa's liberty.
[Exeunt all but FIESCO.
SCENE VI.
FIESCO alone. (The noise without increases.)
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!
SCENE VII.
FIESCO, MOOR, entering in haste.
MOOR. Crowds upon crowds!
FIESCO. Throw open wide the gates. Let all that choose enter.
MOOR. Republicans! Republicans, indeed! They drag their liberty along, panting, like beasts of burden, beneath the yoke of their magnificent nobility.
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——
MOOR (going out). Halloo! halloo! You are very obligingly battering the house down. (The people rush in; the doors broken down.)
SCENE VIII.
FIESCO, twelve ARTISANS.
ALL ARTISANS. Vengeance on Doria! Vengeance on Gianettino!
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!
ALL (with impetuosity). Down with the Dorias! Down with them, uncle and nephew!
FIESCO (counting them with a smile). Twelve is a mighty force!
SOME OF THEM. These Dorias must away! the state must be reformed!
1ST ARTISAN. To throw our magistrates down stairs! The magistrates!
2D ARTISAN. Think, Count Lavagna—down stairs! because they opposed them in the election——
ALL. It must not be endured! it shall not be endured!
3D ARTISAN. To take a sword into the senate!
1ST ARTISAN. A sword?—the sign of war—into the chamber of peace!
2D ARTISAN. To come into the senate dressed in scarlet! Not like the other senators, in black.
1ST ARTISAN. To drive through our capital with eight horses!
ALL. A tyrant! A traitor to the country and the government!
2D ARTISAN. To hire two hundred Germans from the Emperor for his body-guard.
1ST ARTISAN. To bring foreigners in arms against the natives—Germans against Italians—soldiers against laws!
ALL. 'Tis treason!—'tis a plot against the liberty of Genoa!
1ST ARTISAN. To have the arms of the republic painted on his coach!
2D ARTISAN. The statue of Andreas placed in the centre of the senate-house!
ALL. Dash them to pieces—both the statue and the man——
FIESCO. Citizens of Genoa, why this to me?
1ST ARTISAN. You should not suffer it. You should keep him down.
2D ARTISAN. You are a wise man, and should not suffer it. You should direct us by your counsel.
1ST ARTISAN. You are a better nobleman. You should chastise them and curb their insolence.
FIESCO. Your confidence is flattering. Can I merit it by deeds?
ALL (clamorously). Strike! Down with the tyrant! Make us free!
FIESCO. But—will you hear me?
SOME. Speak, Count!
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?
1ST ARTISAN. For the people—everything in common——
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?
1ST AND 2D ARTISANS. A select government!
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!
ALL (shouting, and throwing up their hats). Bravo! Bravo! Well managed, Count Lavagna!
1ST ARTISAN. And Genoa shall follow that example. Genoa, also, has its lion!
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!
SCENE IX.