 | Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples |  |
Scene I.
—Aversa. Wild Ravine, near Aversa.Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa discovered.
Zeppa.
Tell me how it was.
Beppo.
Nay, good Zeppa! there was in it as much jest
as earnest—
Ghino.
Ay, by'r lady! that there was, and more too!
Zeppa.
Then, by St. Iago! tarry not in the telling o't.
Your tale infected with a jest, like viands with
the fly, must to the cook at once. Delay would
spoil it!
Ghino.
You tell it, Beppo! I am no historian. But
do not lose, mind you, the joke for the facts!
Never fear me, Ghino! I'll be a true chronicler:
you shall have plenty of fancy to your small germ
of truth.
Zeppa.
A pregnant germ, then. But, begin—
Beppo.
About this time, yesterday, good Zeppa! were
these legs of mine dangling, look you—gracefully
as now they are—over the dim edge of this ravine;
and, mark you, this head of mine was also nodding
forward and backward,—thus!—typing the
doubt that even then pothered my poor brains,
whether it were not wiser to leap the precipice,
and end at once the dream and doubt, than still
to endure this idle life and its unsatisfied wants.
Ghino.
Ay, and I was thus recumbent by his side—
dreaming too—
Beppo.
You were asleep, Ghino! and snoring like a
gorged boar. The horrible music, by disturbing
my thoughts, would not permit my mind to make
up a bold resolve. Howbeit 'twas well I nought
and now tuned thy nasal organ on purpose, to
suspend my no less rash than prompt decision.
Ghino.
Resolve—decision! All needless trouble! Do
nothing, and the saints provide all! So acted
they in life, and it would be hard, if, after death,
they did not for their votaries what for them their
predecessors had done.
Beppo.
Why else should they be canonised?
Zeppa.
On with your story—
Beppo.
Well, then! While I was pondering and Ghino
serenading the echoes, roused reluctant by his
trombone from the rocky couches where they
slumber; who should come up, but, on horseback,
with half a score of followers, the Duke of Durazzo?
“Which of you,” he demanded, “can
guide us to the camp of King Louis of Hungary?”
—“That can I!” boldly replied Ghino,
waking up on the sudden. Ghino's always alive
to business, even when dead asleep—
His rest is but the pause 'tween storm and storm.
Beppo.
I then wished it had been perpetual. O, the
folly of human wishes! “Ha!” cried the Duke,
“That voice! By heaven! it is one of the
assassins! Seize them!” At the word, we were
in the grasp of his men.
Zeppa.
How did it end?
Beppo.
Right! I will make short work of it, as, in
sooth, I then did with the Duke. I warrant you,
I soon made it clear, how those two faithless
monks had betrayed us both. Nor was it long
ere we planned revenge together! For even, at
that moment, came Torello, from Naples, with
news. The Countess of Montoni, with all her
household, had been arrested by Hugh del Balzo:
the populace, no less than the Lazzari, were ready
for a rising. “Now,” cried the Duke, “I'll keep
your secret, insure your pardon; only incite your
fellows, in sufficient numbers, and visit Naples
instantly! Find ye the crowd apt, and stir afoot,
seize the advantage, enter the palace, secure the
Duchess of Durazzo, whom, in my haste, I left
behind; but here desire with me. Take this ring,
should ye meet, ye will know how for their treachery
to reward them. But do all in the names
of the Countess of Montoni, and her peasant father.
Salvator, if possible, secure too, and bring
back, as trophy; his presence here may be needful,
his cause expedient to our policy. Will ye do
it?” “We will!” So we sware it, and thus
parted;—he for Louis' camp, and—
Zeppa.
You for Naples.
Beppo.
Assuredly.—And by St. Jago! we found all ripe
for action. As the saints would have it, a brief
but decided shock had brought the frightened
people into the streets, full of the remembrance of
what Salvator had done in the last earthquake.
We swept amidst them, like a hurricane; and
there in the Bay, whom should we behold but the
dastardly monks?—
Zeppa.
Geronimo and Roberto?
Beppo.
Ay.—At once we denounced them, and, with the
word, sent a blow! It silenced their treasonous
malice for ever! That blow! 'Twas as if it had
been struck for freedom! And when we cried,
“For the palace!” we were borne within the
speech? Both the Duchess and the Catanese are
here!
Zeppa.
Now—where's the jest?
Beppo.
Is there no jest in the rhyme that burlesques heroic
action? Is it no jest when basest motive is
misnamed of noblest cause? Why, then, life is a
jest! Who can but laugh at such things?
Zeppa.
Nor laugh—nor weep—but bear an equal mind.
'Tis in vilest habit oft Providence disguises most
sacred justice; Liberty not seldom is the child
of strange occasion. Where the monks meant
malice, Heaven had purposed deliverance. Let
confusion grow, and ruin come of it; a phœnix
may rise from the ashes.
Beppo.
You have been your circuit? The glow of
high discoursing is yet on your lips.
Zeppa.
I have, boys! and the issues await but opportunity.
I have encountered burning spirits in rocks
and valleys, in wild retreats and mountainous
concealments; nor there, alone; but, in the
The Brethren have slain the Wolf to
avenge the Lamb! and over the bleeding corse
have sworn, against tyrannous power, an oath,
whose smallest whisper shall make monarchs
tremble. Talk no more, Beppo!—think no more
of ending, by self-violence, the dream and doubt!
live on! Fear is despicable; Despair is criminal;
Courage and Hope are the indispensable
attributes not only of uncommon heroism, but of
ordinary virtue. Hark! hush!—the Duke and
Duchess approach:—break off!—seem idle!
Enter Duke and Duchess of Durazzo.
Duke.
What make ye, loiterers! here? To the King's tent!
Be wary of your speech; ye'll find him, fellows!
A subtle questioner—
Beppo.
We shall be cautious—
[Exeunt Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa.
Duke.
Maria!
Duchess.
Back to Naples! take me back!
The sister of the Queen of Sicily
Demanded more respect. Dragged hitherward,
By Lazzari—I thought them at least soldiers,
Else even your signet-ring had not prevailed!
Is he content to hear me give him proof,
That she he wars against is innocent?
Who, then, is guilty, if the Queen be not?
His vengeance craves an object! will have one!
Whom shall he strike?—for some one he will strike—
It may be, thee! Do you regard your safety,
If not my honour? Instant back to Naples!
Duke.
More than my safety, my own honour! Thine
Need dread no violation. I know Louis,
Suspicious and revengeful, coarse in both;
Like an Hungarian: but Italian wit
Shall more than match his rudeness. Never fear—
Duchess.
Wit! late o'erreached, yet no less trusted to;
O'erreached by “coarse” Hungarian artifice!
Duke.
For which the doers paid the penalty—
The monks are dead!
Duchess.
I speak of wit—not force—
They died by force—not wit; and neither thine—
Duke.
Doubt you my courage?
No! But equal terms
Are needed to success. Who play the stake
For life or death, beware of vanity
That flatters self. Think rather of thyself
Too little, of thy foe too much—be wise!
Duke.
Your censure wounds me to the quick. No more!
Duchess.
Wilt back to Naples?
Duke.
If it please you—go;
But go alone! To Naples! Would you shun
To share the fortunes of your lord—be gone!
Duchess.
I fear not for myself; it is for thee!
Duke.
There is no man I dread in all the world.
Duchess.
Nor would I have thee any dread—save one.
Duke.
Who's he?
Duchess.
Yourself!
To Naples! I am here
Rooted! Safe here as Naples!—till I know
The balance be withdrawn from Balzo's hands—
Ha! Felix! Louis' officer and friend!
Enter Felix.
You seek me?
Felix.
And have found it hard to find you—
'Tis strange you wander, and unsafe, thus far.
Duke.
Hast news?
Felix.
A scout from Naples—
Duke.
What brings he?
Felix.
The Queen's left Naples, and is now at Rome,
Pleading her cause before the Pope in person.
Duke.
And Hugh del Balzo rules the while in Naples—
Dear wife! you must submit. We'll in to Louis—
Felix.
It was my errand. He would counsel with you.
[Exeunt.
| Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples | |