 | Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples |  |
Scene I.
—Naples.—Prison in Fort St. Elmo.Enter Giulio and Sancha.
Sancha.
What news from Rome? dear Giulio! From the tower,
I saw the Courier enter, saw you meet him,
Hold converse with him, question, and have answer!
What news from Rome? When comes the Queen to Naples?
And has the Pope acquitted her—and us?
Giulio.
The Queen's acquitted; that is all he knew.
Ne'er in the registers of eloquence,
Was such oration, as her Majesty,
Before his Holiness, delivered; so
Convincing and persuading, that at once
He spake her pardon, and denounced her troublers
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As under censure lying, interdict,
And excommunicate, if still resisting.
Armed with his sacred shield, she travels straight
To Louis' camp, his cause of quarrel judged,
And with authority bids him depart.
Sancha.
O, happy news! then all must yet be well!
So loved the Queen the Countess, loved her friend,
Her counsellor, one who betrayed her never,
Who helped her always, and with her experience
Covered the ignorance of her infant sway;
That to suppose she pleaded not for her,
With the like warmth, and with the same success,
Were to think slander! O, dear Giulio!
We shall rejoice! Yet, strange! did not the courier
Say aught of us?
Giulio.
He bore a packet, sealed
For the Chancellor, with strict command to speed
In his commission.
Sancha.
O, good Queen!
Doubtless, a mandate for our liberty,
She would not have delayed!
Giulio.
Hope, like the snowdrop,
Forestalls the spring, and dies before it comes!
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(without).
O, thankless infidel!
Sancha.
What cry is that?
Heaven! could it be the Countess?
Giulio.
'Tis the Countess—
See, where she comes!
Enter Philippa, followed by Terlizi, Evoli, and Balzo.
Philippa.
Remorse will cling her for it!
And charity should wish it, lest her soul
Die unrepentant, and hereafter suffer!
(To Sancha)
O, your fair innocence! We are betrayed!
High station is delirium, that from phantoms
Flees in mad terror, then, with frantic rage,
Stabs the true heart that was its only guardian!
The Queen has yielded us to death and shame!
She, who could plead so well to save herself,
Had not a word for us, save what condemned!
Thou art bewildered, girl! It makes thee senseless!
Hope, turned at once to Fear, congeals young blood!
Ha! Giulio! you do well to take her from me!
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For thine inspection! Is there murder in it?
Was e'er the wish engendered, will conceived?
Thou know'st it was not! She, too, must have known it,
Or ne'er known me, save as an implement,
But a brute sceptre, or mere hand that wields it—
No conscience to direct it—all blind impulse—
All—! Patience, Heaven! patience!—Nothing else
Henceforth I crave!—
Where is Sir Hugh?—What more
Contain the papers? I can hear them now!
Balzo.
The Queen neglected not to plead your cause,
As here is testified, with urgent suit—
Philippa.
I would not wrong her Majesty! Proceed!
Balzo.
But to the Pope told all, even to the point,
'Twas, by your father's counsel, she appealed
Unto his holiness, adducing it
In witness of his piety and yours,
That it might turn the balance in your favor.
Philippa.
What then?
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The Pope summed up the proofs—
Philippa.
As how?
Balzo.
Much to her wonder, thus:—The influence,
So strangely exercised by you and him
Upon the royal mind, was more of weight
Than other circumstance, and justified
The popular notion of some witchcraft in it.
Philippa.
Down, turbulent disdain! deep as my soul!
Balzo.
As for the further evidence, whereon,
From the monk's table-book, was sentence given,
The witnesses being dead, means were withdrawn
Of its reversal; it must stand confirmed;
Nay, and the Church required some expiation,
Touching her loss in their untimely end;
Nor could the Queen object to make return,
In common thankfulness, for good received.
Philippa.
Sold! sacrificed! O, impious merchandise!
Balzo.
How could the Queen reverse the Pope's decree?
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I thank you, sir! Why are you standing there?
You would not gaze upon our misery?
Or execute us with your own hand?—would you?
We have some minutes—half an hour—a quarter—
Ere we become the headsman's!
Balzo.
'Tis my duty
That makes me urgent. Nothing shall you lack
Of due observance. Wait, till you hear further—
[Exit.
Philippa.
I'll wait till Doomsday, when thyself shall hear,
Thyself, the Queen ingrate, the Pope corrupt,
The dreadful Trump that shall awake the world,
And summon, even from the unsounded seas,
The sinner to the audit of the Judge,
By whom each several cause shall be re-heard,
And a true verdict registered alone!
Terlizi.
Bring Sancha to us, Giulio!
Evoli
(embracing Sancha).
My daughter!
Philippa.
My husband and my son!
[They form a sculpturesque group.
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Extermination, and not punishment!
Tell me, seem we not now like Neptune's priest
And his devoted children, whom of old
Amphibiæ crushed, to type a city's fall?
Invisible serpents clasp voluminous
Our agonising limbs—they choke our throats—
And flourish o'er our heads their glorying crests!
We gasp for life, and see each other die!
In vain would save—in vain would patience teach,
By greatly quelling in the voiceless soul,
Pain too profound for any cry to speak!—
Insufferable pain! Shriek! howl aloud!
Else die of silence! Nay—we will be dumb—
Better to die of pride than crouch with shame!
Terlizi.
Shame rest on those who doom us wrongfully!
Philippa.
Shame nowhere rest, but be a wanderer ever!
This woe will soon be passed, then shall we rest!
—Wants but Salvator; then the tree were smitten,
With every fruitful branch unlopped upon it,
And all might fall together!— (A pause.)
Have you heard of him?
Giulio.
Not since the night that he was stolen from Naples.
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How like a mystery show they to my soul,
His coming and his going! Nature heaved,
As from earth's caverns she had cast him up,
To walk awhile her surface, and was troubled,
When she at first felt his unwonted tread,
Even to her centre; and, ere he departed,
Her expectation once again confessed,
As earthquake needed rive his grave anew,
To re-admit him!
Terlizi.
Wild suggestions these—
Philippa.
Truths, if not facts. The world to us is shadow!
We've not been of it late, and had to furnish
One of our own, where fancies show as things:
And since we soon must bid it now farewell,
Seeing it has deceived us, let it go,
As false; and charter faith to cling to these,
That still we may at least believe them true,
And, by imagination's healing power,
Set doubt at rest.
Re-enter Balzo.
Balzo.
I pray your pardon, Countess!
The confessor awaits you in the chapel—
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Which bends me low with grief!
Philippa.
I pity you!!
But ask no payment from you in like kind;
'Tis justice, not compassion, we require!—
We'll follow you.
[Exit Balzo.
Let us go in together!
And, like a holocaust, upon the altar
Yield ourselves up! Come, hand in hand, together!
Shrink not, good Giulio, from the spectacle,
But be stern witness of the sacrifice!
And if my father be, indeed, alive,
And ask you, “How we died?” Thus tell him, “As
Became the children of an honest man!”
[Exeunt.
| Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples | |