 | The Sicilian Vespers |  |
17
ACT II.
SCENE.—A Hall in the Palace of Procida, open to a prospect of the port and country beyond.Montfort enters, attended by Gaston, St. Clair, Salviati, Fondi, D'Aquila, French Knights, and Sicilians.
MONTFORT.
The cares of state dismiss'd, now, my brave friends,
You that the King demands for distant service
Make profit of your time. A purer sky
Shall never wake your spirits to delight,
Nor nature with a lovelier aspect lure
The gazing eye to fond captivity.
Such and so fair my own Provençal fields;
And these the sweeter that they oft recal
Their cherished memory. You, Sicilian friends,
Control our pastimes, so disposing them
That we may husband well our stay with you.
To-day the chase. How say ye, Gaston?
GASTON.
No;
My hunting's past. But if a veteran friend
May add some moments to the brief allotment
You have bestow'd on business, 'twould oblige him.
MONTFORT.
Ever some sarcasm on thy tongue, old friend!
All here have been campaigners like thyself,
And done their gallant deeds—the laurell'd head
Ill brooks the dull routine of cabinets.
St. Clair succeeds us, he'll make amends for us.
ST. CLAIR.
Will you not trust me?
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'Twere ill manners, Sir,
Before our present viceroy, should I say
The state would profit in the change.
ST. CLAIR.
I thank ye.
Gaston, it seems, grows weary of his calling,
Forgets his soldiership, and, some report,
Designs to teach philosophy.
GASTON.
Much need on't.
Should the King pension me to teach endurance
Among Palermo's citizens, 'twould prove
No sinecure.
MONTFORT.
Come, this is but thy humour.
There are Sicilians in our circle now
Who know my heart, and may command it freely
To do them right. Is this your business?
GASTON.
I'll speak in private.
MONTFORT.
Friends, I'll follow you.
[Exeunt all, except Montfort and Gaston.
GASTON.
You are too little chary of your person!
As one responsible for all the griefs
That prey upon the city, guard it better.
But yesterday, with one companion only,
You walked the public streets.
MONTFORT.
And shall to-day.
When I am guarded for my safety's sake,
Let infants mock my tremors as I pass,
And cowards buffet me.
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I know you well;
And 'tis my earnest love that would protect
Your manly virtues. For the King's advantage,
Who boasts no superfluity of those
May do his service honour; let thy prudence
Bear out thy bravery. Look abroad, nor think,
Though few complaints may reach you, few are uttered.
MONTFORT.
Gaston, I love thy praise; and setting it
Against a world of calumny, should deem
My fame acquitted. But my gallant comrades
Will not be reined with churlish discipline.
Brave soldiers should be generous men.
GASTON.
They should.
But we in all things rush beyond the bound
Of sober feeling. Long impunity
Hath nursed injustice, arrogance, and insult.
The soldiers ape the licence of their chiefs,
And daily brawls disturb the city's peace.
Look to't: if you depart, and leave us thus,
The King will lose his Sicily.
MONTFORT.
Then you and I must help him to regain it.
What else remains?
GASTON.
Deal with him honestly.
Demand authority to soothe a hate
That will not be despised. I note what's passing.
Your ear is lull'd by flatterers and minstrels,—
Mine, listening to the murmur, low and deep,
Learns of the gathering storm. Confront the truth.
You go to spread abroad our Christian faith.
Be a fair fame thy harbinger, and shew
The holy standard, idle mockery else,
Unstained with brute excess and ruffian pride.
Win thee the prayers of the oppress'd—sole incense
A king or conqueror may safely breathe.
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Have faces busy with some stirring purpose;
And oft they speak of Procida, that stubbornest
Of all our foes.
MONTFORT.
He will return our friend:
His surly spleen will yield to time and travel.
GASTON.
Rather find strength in both. 'Tis that he seeks.
I've cause to say so.
MONTFORT.
You are credulous:
The father will not league against the son:
And if there be a man in Sicily
That loves me, and may claim my confidence,
That man is Loridan!
GASTON.
Be not you credulous.
A GUARD
(without.)
You cannot pass.
JULIA VILLANELLI.
I've business with the viceroy.
MONTFORT.
How now?—the Lady Julia Villanelli!
Julia Villanelli enters.
JULIA.
Your pardon, noble sir, that I intrude
Against your special orders.
MONTFORT.
Mine! Intrude!—
A lady whom the princess calls her friend!
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I gain your presence by surprise, to crave
Justice for wrong, defence from tyrant outrage.
MONTFORT.
Speak, madam,—whence this charge?—who hath provoked it?
JULIA.
A Frenchman, highly trusted, strong in power,
Boasting your friendship, and disgracing it.
MONTFORT.
St. Clair?
JULIA.
The same.
GASTON.
The man of gibes, who promises
Reform and diligence.
JULIA.
He hath preferred
A lawless suit to me, which honest means
Nor silenced nor abashed; but only urged
To most audacious and offensive freedom.
My lord, apprized of insults still unceasing,
As now they met, with sudden anger moved,
Spake out his just reproach, and was at once
With numbers and with shameless force o'erwhelmed—
Prisoned and fettered like a criminal.
Will you release him, sir, and do him right?
MONTFORT.
Madam, he shall conduct you from the palace.
You know my wishes, Gaston; see them done.
GASTON.
The office is most grateful to me.
[Exit.
22
This St. Clair
Stands proudly in the favour of the king;
Yet shall he know my mind, and feel my power,
Which, should it fail me, for my country's honour,
This quarrel should be mine.
JULIA.
Let me not rob
Our many sufferers of your time and care.
I have announced my coming to the princess,
And will attend her where I am accustomed.
I charge you stir not. Shame, such libertines
As this St. Clair! But for the gallant Montfort,
If my report may serve him, all desert
A knight and noble gentleman may claim,
I'll vouch for to his fair renown.
MONTFORT.
Hold there!
That flattering tongue may do me better service,
And shame me less, with her you go to seek.
Will you commend me to her?
JULIA.
If you'll trust
A woman's penetration to interpret
A woman's heart, to win you favour there
Shall quit my debt to you at little cost.
To all your hopes, success.
[Exit.
MONTFORT.
Too flattering words,—
Dare I believe them? Ha! Leanthe comes;
Now Fortune find me favour.
(Enter Leanthe.)
LEANTHE.
Monfort!
MONTFORT.
You would not shun me.
23
Sir, I sought
The Lady Julia.
MONTFORT.
She attends you, Madam;
Yet will not envy me a few blest moments.
What mean those looks? Would they rebuke my wish?
LEANTHE.
I am a Mainfroy, Sir, and still a mourner.
MONTFORT.
Too long a mourner. Wake to love and joy.
May I not hope? You know my heart—you must.
LEANTHE.
'Tis true, Sir, Loridan—
MONTFORT.
Hath he then spoken,
And hath his friendship only thus availed me?
You tremble! Am I, then, a man to fear?
If my devotion and my love may win you,
My suit shall be eternal: other means
My pride disdains. Ambition is my frailty.
You are a princess; I, a knight of France.
Call me your knight, and make me all you will.
My king and my Leanthe may inspire
Deeds that shall bring fresh honours on my head;
Nay, crown it with its sovereignty in turn,
Won of the misbelievers. Love that dares
Aspire to thee can ne'er be blest without thee.
LEANTHE
(aside.)
Dare I reply to him?
MONTFORT.
I'll hail your silence—
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Hold, for I must not hear you. Shuddering terror
Alone hath checked my speech and licensed yours.
Light man! forgetful of yourself, of me,
And of my holiest duties. When did Nature
Blend her opposing elements, or make
Wild union of her fixed antipathies?
My murdered brother—
MONTFORT.
Would have found in me
A friend and advocate. Unjust reproach!
I fought in fields that sullied not my sword,
Nor shared that needless horror.
LEANTHE.
You enjoy
Its fruits,—the power he left to usurpation.
The holy church its altars would deny
To love so monstrous, call it blasphemy,
And greet it with a curse.
MONTFORT.
Unchristian error!
Oh, how unworthy of those angel lips!
The blasphemous are they whose venomed tongues
Profane the Heaven they serve, whose ministry
Makes men enthusiasts in their evil passions
When nature would have hushed them.
Quit their cells,
And be thy pastor that blue Heaven itself.
Look up, and thence inhale
The beam of Love, the breath of Charity
LEANTHE.
My fate is sealed. My dying brother gave me
To one he thought might worthily possess me.
MONTFORT.
Might worthily! To whom?
LEANTHE.
To Loridan.
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To Loridan! The man—You trifle, Madam.
LEANTHE.
'Tis certain. From his father we received
The mandate, and a solemn vow hath bound us.
MONTFORT.
'Tis past belief. Your vows are mutual, then.
LEANTHE.
Sir, I am his.
MONTFORT.
And this my friend!—my creature!
A boy!—and I his fool! Dark, damned Sicilians!
They circumvent us. Honest Gaston knew him!—
The princess, too! He towers above us all.
LEANTHE.
How hath he done ye wrong?
MONTFORT.
No matter, Madam.
Farewell. I will not urge your further stay;
I would not feed my torment, nor inflame
My anger!
LEANTHE.
He comes!
MONTFORT.
Ah!
LEANTHE.
Hold him blameless, for he is so.
[Exit.
Loridan enters.
LORIDAN
(apart.)
So they have met, then, and his looks declare
She hath been earnest with him. (To Montfort.)
I seem unwelcome here. You are in anger.
MONTFORT.
And you, that tone would tell me, are prepared for't.
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Prepared to calm it, as a friend should be.
MONTFORT.
Talk not of friends! A friend, Sir, hath betrayed me!
A stripling, too, in whom the vernal glow
Of young simplicity and ardent virtue
Opened my heart as to the radiant face
Of truth itself. Yet he, this honest seemer,
Hath coiled and brooded like a serpent there
To sting it; prey upon its secrets; use them
To his own dark, insidious purposes.
You are that friend, unblushing traitor—you!
LORIDAN.
You rave!
MONTFORT.
I took upon myself to think
My friendship flattered ye—had done ye honour
Great as your hopes when I conferred on you
The sword that dubb'd you of our chivalry;
But you had prouder thoughts—the blood of Mainfroy
Had tempted you; and having seized betimes
Advantage Fortune gave you, you had dared
In treacherous security behold
My growing hopes with pity!
LORIDAN.
All my pride
Is little that can patiently endure
This tyrannous injustice; and I feel
I condescend when I reply to you
In sober vindication of my truth.
Of me you claimed no secrets; and the tie
That bound me to Leanthe I concealed
In sole obedience to my father's wish.
She came to me a dying brother's trust,
Which, let me say, my love and long devotion
Hath honourably sanctioned.
MONTFORT.
'Twill not pass.
She came to you a young and guileless maid,
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Dishonest influence assailed her with.
These are your rights, or whence your mystery?
Heavy suspicion lights upon your father:
Treason and foul rebellion are abroad,
Stirred, it is said, by him. What! he would drive
The French invader forth, and urging, then,
This trim alliance, seize the sovereignty
For his aspiring boy!
LORIDAN.
Believe it so.
The foul aspersion of dishonest dealing
I spurn, and throw thee back. For my ambition,
Had it aspired to rule in Sicily
Against a stranger's claim, the guilt, methinks,
Had not been damning nor excessive. Friendship
Alone has blinded me to that misrule
And despot arrogance; sole, ample source
Of those rebellious signs that threaten you.
I feel it now; and yet in friendship charge ye
Drive not a groaning people to despair.
MONTFORT.
So! treason ripens, and the renegade
Breaks boldly out! Dost brave me, insolent?
LORIDAN.
That air of sudden loftiness I brave
And smile at; it imposes nothing.
I am at home, and there, at least, your equal.
Your friendship is for slaves, and I disown it;
My pride—though less, Heaven knows, than you would have it—
I yet may thank that it restores to me
My freedom and my self-esteem.
MONTFORT.
'Tis well!
Then in the power you dare insult, be taught
I am your master. Think not to despise
The foe you make of me. Begone!—henceforth
The meanest of my train is more than you;
Sink down, and writhe among the common crowd,
28
For those complaints which all your patriot zeal
Could find no tongue for. Get you from Palermo!
'Tis my command, and see that you obey it!
Then if the Princess, disenthralled, forsake ye,
Rail out and call me ravisher. No more.
Follow the restless malcontent, your father!
Thus do we part, and such the leave I take
Of thee and of thy friendship.
[Exit.
Procida enters behind, as having observed Montfort, and gradually advances.
LORIDAN.
Is it so!
Scorn'd, hunted from my palace, turned abroad
With no more words than serve an outcast dog!
And no redress!—no hope, but base submission!
My father!—welcome! Montfort is a tyrant!
PROCIDA.
The rival, then, hath marr'd the deity!
Yet as he quitted you the wrath of Jove
Could scarce shew mightier or more imperial.
How will you meet his thunders?
LORIDAN.
Teach me that.
I am condemn'd to ignominious exile;
The holy bond that makes Leanthe mine
Threaten'd with outrage, branded with reproach!
You are suspected for a secret traitor.
'Twere comfort now to know 'tis not unjustly.
Must we endure it?
PROCIDA.
No! we have endured
Too much already—we, and all of Sicily.
The worst they can suspect I have deserved;
And the slow march of my determined vengeance
Weighs heavier on my soul than all its guilt.
For sixteen years hath this usurping horde
Thus trampled on our rights. In every city
The blood of innocence hath largely flow'd;
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With ruffian licence, spotted and defiled.
Our native wisdom, dignity, and virtue,
Hiding their heads, have given their honours up
To deck the profligate. Our industry
Hath fed their riot, and our holy temples
Their avarice hath plunder'd and profaned.
The poor man toils not for the daily meal
Rapacity may seize. Scared Enterprise
Shuts her far-reaching eye, and folds her arms—
The merchant is a beggar on the mart,
Or bears to other lands his bankrupt hopes.
Palermo! once so proud, so glorious city,
Where are the days of thy prosperity?
And have I found amid thy miseries
One of thy citizens who felt them not,
And Loridan the friend of the oppressor!
LORIDAN.
'Tis past! I feel it hath dishonoured me:
I'll forth and rouse the people—lead them on—
PROCIDA.
Peace! thou'lt entomb their liberties for ever,—
War thus declared were impotent and fatal.
What would ye?
LORIDAN.
Force them from the land!—
PROCIDA.
No, no;
Here let them die and rot,—the troubled world
Be rid of them and their accurst oppression!—
Feast they our wolves; and let their bleaching bones
Bestrew our shores,—a salutary warning.
Thousands of hearts in Sicily feel thus
Inspired and guided by a band of heroes.
Wilt thou enrol with them?
LORIDAN.
Conspiracy!
PROCIDA.
What else shall grapple with a lawless force?
The conqueror, who wantons in his power,
30
And to revenge, work darkly as he will,
Throws down the gauntlet, and defies the worst:
My life is staked on the attempt. Decide!
LORIDAN.
We share one destiny! Bring me among ye.
PROCIDA.
Come, then. Yet, as the father and the son
Link thus, why steals this first compunction o'er me?
My boy!—my Loridan!—should I attaint—
LORIDAN.
Shrink not a moment!—I am firm.
PROCIDA.
Yet hold!
First quit the city,—'twill be noted else:
I will devise the means of thy return,
And bear meantime to our assembled friends
The news of thy enrolment. Know thy mind—
Montfort must die!
LORIDAN.
Montfort must die!—and yet,
To leave Leanthe thus!
PROCIDA.
Delay not now;
She's firm and faithful to us: Salviati
O'erheard her with indignant sternness check
The tyrant's suit. We'll charge him to instruct her
With all it may concern her peace to know.
LORIDAN.
No more! Lead on! Home of my ancestors,
Awhile farewell!—when I return to thee,
Oppression's blood shall streak thy marble halls,
And Procida acknowledge thee again!
END OF ACT II.
| The Sicilian Vespers | |