 | Eva : Or, The Error |  |
57
ACT III.
SCENE I.
—An Apartment at the Countess di Castellanaria's Palace. Morning.COUNTESS DI CASTELLANARIA and EVA.
Gia.
And wilder still hath he appeared of late?—
Eva.
Alas! I deem so,—day by day, methinks
More fiercely troubled grow his looks and words!
His words!—too fearful oft to dwell upon!—
The Horror, that is heavy at his heart—
Will have its way.—
Gia.
(starting.)
How! hath he told thee all?—
Eva.
What told me?—oh, no!—nothing—save by sighs!—
Great heavens! hath he told thee?—thou'rt pale and changed!
Gia.
'Tis but the heat!—nay—pity's pang for thee!—
That wrings my very heart!— (Aside.)
Now must I strive
To urge her to that end must be accomplished!—
(aloud.)
I see but one hope left, and that is—
Eva.
(eagerly.)
What?
Gia.
For thee to penetrate his bosom's depth—
Possess thyself of whatsoe'er may be
The armed monster-image of his morbid thought,
For be thou sure some wild distempered dream
Lies at the bottom of this sea of strife.
First, thou this hideous phantasy must sound
58
If this can be achieved! A much loved friend
Of mine, at Venice—long a sufferer thus—
Even by these means, was gradually restored—
Without professional assistance quite.
Whene'er he opens unto thee his soul,
Soothe him, and seek to shape thy tone by his;
Administering such comforts and such balm
As thou mayst best devise.—Hast thou observed
That aught, or any one, especially
Rouses his fevered fancy's fury?
Eva.
Yes!
'Tis since young Bellafiore hath been here,
There hath been increase of his malady—
Constant and swift progression—rapid growth
Of each most dreadful symptom!—
Gia.
Ha!—indeed!—
And do they ofttimes meet?— (aside,)
—my jealous heart!
Silenced in suffocating stillness lie!
Doth Guido much frequent your princely home?
Eva.
Nay, seldom is he absent!—
Gia.
So!—What cause?
Eva.
Hast thou not guessed, nor heard—sweet Flora's eyes
Shine the bright load-stars that attract him there:
He is devoted to her gentle charms!—
Gia.
Distraction!—that—that is,—I mean to say—
Distraction through all stages still requires
The kindliest care and tenderest watchfulness.
Follow my counsel to the letter, now,
And then report to me how thou hast sped.
I do rejoice to hear your cousin hath
59
'Twill be a brave alliance for her—troth!
Through his lamented sister's mournful death
Is he sole heir to vast possessions, left
By a most wealthy mother to the daughter;
Or rather by the grandsire, who bequeathed
His treasure to his daughter's daughter—born
In time to be the idol of his age,
And failing her, to any after issue.
Thus Guido hath enormous mines of wealth!—
Alas! thou heed'st me scarce; thy wandering thought
Is hovering o'er Montalba's suffering head!—
Be mindful, I implore thee!—act thy part
With firmness and decision—'twill succeed!
Eva.
Rest thou assured I will!—I now must bend
My sorrowing steps to my unhappiest home,
Yet something soothed by that thou hast held out,
Of reassurance to my sinking heart!
Farewell my kind Giacinta!
Gia.
Sweet!—farewell!—
[Exit Eva.
Detested worm! but I will crush thee yet!
And feast upon thy writhings and thy pangs!
Doubly I hate for this vile news thou'st brought!—
Torture and anguish!—Have I lost him?—No!
I will not lose him.—She hath loveliness—
And there is all!—that sums her wealth at once!—
Have I no loveliness?—and add to that,
A soul of fire—a heart like Passion's Sun,
A-blaze with gorgeous treasures of delight!—
Then have I aids and adjuncts—golden keys
To the heart's coffered core—ambition!—pride!
60
I will be conqueror in these lists of love!
But would to heaven Montalba's dark affair
Were to the issue brought!—till then I stand
As on the brink of an abhorred abyss—
And all athirst for vengeance, which my lip,
Hot as the vampire's to the dregs would drain!—
Aye! with their life-blood crimsoning in the draught!—
Montalba!—Ha!—hadst thou but wedded me,
Stead of that pale-faced puppet yonder—then
That sharp remorse which cuts with trenchant edge,
Through thy pierced soul, were swallowed up,—were merged
In thousand mightiest interests!—not an hour
Should have gone o'er thy head, without its freight
Of stirring keen excitements!—So shouldest thou
Have lost Thyself, and Memory, and Remorse,
And lived one hurrying life of restlessness!—
Whirled in one vortex of o'erwhelming strife!—
I had built up between thee and the Deed
That shakes thy soul to think on, dazzling walls;—
That with their splendour and their loftiness,
Had shut the fearful shadowy spectre out;—
My hated rival's self is my revenge;
She leaves him to the tyranny of his thought!—
To that dread pow'r—that fiend of fiends—ourselves!—
He should be roused!—fired!—wildly borne along
Adown the flashing rapids of excitement.
She lets him stagnate in reflection's lake,
Which glass one image, and one colouring wear.
Enter Giulio.
Giu.
Giacinta!—art prepared to meet thy friends?—
Gia.
Entirely! let them be admitted straight—
61
This fresh provision of stout arms!—behold!
(Opens a large cabinet.)
'Tis a fair store, besides what are already
Distributed without reserve, I'm told,
Among the heads and leaders in the—plot—
No, no—the imperial and heaven-sanctioned war!
Didst say they were at hand?
Giu.
They wait thy will.
Gia.
Conduct them instantly, I pray thee, here.
[Exit Giulio.
Oh! Guido! Guido!—shall I see thee now?
Courage, my heart! and cope with this strong joy!
Enter Giulio with De Tours, Guido, and Conspirators.
Gia.
(to De Tours.)
I trust thou hast acquaintance made with these
Right gallant champions in our lofty cause.
De Tours.
Nay, madam, I have had acquaintance, late,
To make with things not such good company,
But of necessity that must be seen—
Your Romish ruins, vast and wondrous! Led
By Curiosity and Cicerones,
I have explored the entire old city—faith!
In two hours and a half—thank, heaven, 'tis done,
A wearying task—but one must see those things!—
Each several town I reached, in my late travel,
Exclaimed I to my courier, fervently,
“Pietro! I trust there's nought here to be seen;—
Museums, churches, pictures, ruins, nor galleries,
Shrines, prisons, palaces, nor catacombs;”
But for my sins had seldom such good luck.
A traveller's trade is most fatiguing!
Giu.
Well!—
62
Due information late from Lombardy?
Gia.
Most satisfactory!—E'en like wild-fire, there,
The electric spirit's kindlingly aroused!—
Swiftly and suddenly—the storm-wind's speed!—
The blow should scarce be long deferred, I deem,
But taken at the tide—the popular zeal,—
Lest that the generous ardour which inspires,
Should suffer chill abatement. Now!—strike now!—
And we shall chain success!
Guido.
(aside.)
Oh! queen-like voice!—
Its silvery championship might pierce proud way
Through banded legions—and all-conquering win
The battle with one word! (To Gia.)
Thou, lady! thou,
That like creation's empress, stand'st girt round
With all the appanage that fits ambition,
As all the ambrosial attributes of beauty—
Dost like a radiant prophetess foretell,
And with thy conquering smile ensure success!
Giu.
(aside.)
By Heaven! he loves her! madness and despair!
Gia.
My noble cousin,—'tis enough to nerve
A poor weak woman, to behold around her
Such gallant sons of glorious chivalry,
Panting to give their country all she needs
To make her yet the loftiest—Liberty!
Guido.
Thyself art all a Heavenly Chivalry!—
Now I conceive how white-robed angels warred!—
Gia.
Hear me but welcome thee with heart and soul,
To our resolvéd band!—for thou hast all
That most is needed in so high a quarrel!—
A soul to do and dare—and to defy
A world in arms, for thy wronged country's sake—
Devotion to that country—true and leal—
Aspirings lofty as thy plumy crest,
63
Where thy brave lion-fathers fought and bled,
And honour stainless as those hundred 'scutcheons,
Whose blazonries adorn thy princely house.
Courage, that eagle-plumed, ne'er checked its flight,
Genius to prompt—and judgment to arrange—
And power to execute the noblest ends!
Be thou the God-given star to lead our war.
Thy name—thy fame's a very victory-cry!
Giu.
(aside.)
Ye gods! she loves him!—let me hate them, both!
Guido.
Nay! madam!—my poor merits you o'errate—
(aside.)
'Tis too like flattery this, and doth not please me:
It looks like some design—some studied wile.
Giu.
Are we met here to waste the precious time
In petty compliments?—the day!—the day—
The hour—the place—the signal—all's prepared.
A simultaneous rising were the best,
In different quarters.—Aye! it must be so!
Not in one point concentrated can we
Assemble our brave forces; but the when,
The how, the whereabouts, must we discuss,
And speedily press on.—Shun, shun delay!—
First Conspirator.
And we, young nobles of this glorious land,
Like champing coursers, scarce can bear the bit;
But be the word once spoken, and we spring,
With one proud bound of rapture, to the field,
To stamp the foot on crushed oppression's neck!
De Tours.
Be careful that you do not break your own
In such a headlong leap—such things have chanced.
Second Consp.
Swell out the thundering triumph of the acclaim!
64
Let the earth heave victory-rocking round our steps,
Till every nation answers ours, and starts
To giant-stature up, aye!—sword in hand,
The armed nations shall start up, and tow'ring stand,
And then— (pauses.)
De Tours.
What then? then all sit down again.
Second Consp.
Pshaw! trifling!— (Turns to Guido.)
Seems this hero of young France
Scarce fired, methinks, with that high energy—
Those keen aspirings that should prompt and steel
In such an undertaking as our own!
Guido.
Thou hast given utterance to my brooding thought!
First Consp.
I will not stay to hear him desecrate
Our theme of themes with his irreverent tongue!
[Exit First Consp.
Third Consp.
Now, now let the everlasting deed be done!—
Oh! for one swift hour of the earthquake's might—
One moment of the storm and thunderbolt!
Come to the true, bright vineyard!—war's red stage—
Come forth! ye vintagers!—in rushing throngs—
Come, ye grape-gatherers—ho! the grapes are ripe.
De Tours,
(shrugging his shoulders.)
I hope and trust we shall not find them sour!
Nothing would less surprise me, I confess.
Also, Heaven grant, the wine of this fine vintage
May not unsettle seriously our heads— (feels his own.)
Mine feels a thought unsteady on my shoulders!—
A bosom-friend of mine, but the other day,
At Paris, bent on some refined amusement,
Met with an awkward accident.
Guido.
And what?
65
De Tours.
The guillotine!
That's all!—a trifle—but it spoilt his beauty,
Disturbed his morning's rest seven hours too soon;
(On a cold, raw spring-morning scarcely pleasant!)
Disordered much his dress, and marred his mirth!—
This same good guillotine's a sharp-set friend.
Like you your friends to cut you?—I do not!
Guido.
(to Gra.)
He is a spy! He mocks our schemes, by heaven!
He hath not at his heart our righteous cause.
Gia.
'Tis but his reckless manner.—This I know,
He is the bravest, noblest, and most zealous—
The war-soul of young France is in his breast.
These sallies are but smoke-wreaths—born of Fire!—
(To Guido.)
'Twere best to shorten this our conference—now!
I tremble, lest these headlong spirits chafe,
Angered to meet so hair-brained an ally!—
Already some, I mark, have disappeared!—
(To the rest.)
My lords, the proud conclusion yet shall come,
The noble consummation of our hopes!
But for short period must be yet deferred.
Advices we expect from distant parts,
And must yet pause till messengers return,
Whom we've despatched to our wide-scattered bands.—
Let the great act be instantaneous then!—
Monies and arms in vast profusion poured
Are secreted i' the hidden mountain-dens
Of our brave brigands,—and the brigands all
Well organized, and placed in certain posts,
With understanding how they are to act,
66
And to our party.
Guido.
Lady! heard I right?
Brigands! saidst thou? Is't possible—is't true?
Gia.
Aye! dost despise such tools?—Thou'rt wrong, my prince!
Scorn'st thou the sword—for that its shining metal
Was dug of old from disembowelled earth?—
Thou must stoop low to find the staunchest help.
'Tis this base mould that gives our iron mail!—
De Tours.
Also a charming chiming toy—called gold—
Which moves the world—and Archimedes' boast
Turns into simple truth.
Fourth Consp.
I grieve to hear,
Fair countess! we must yet curb in our souls,
Impatient for their burst from hated bonds.
But we obey.—The thrice-blessed day will come!—
And earth shall see that noblest spectacle—
A nation struggling for her proudest rights!
In sooth, earth's mightiest spectacle!—
De Tours.
Most true!—
That is the general aspect of the strife!
Collectively—not individually—
For ugly accidents too oft occur,
That rather spoil the beauty of the face,
Unsuited to a delicate complexion:—
But soldiers deal in Generalities!
(And sometimes, slightly too, confuse their terms—)
A body—that's ten thousand bodies—squeezed
In some small compass—a large live machine—
Where the individual legs and arms and heads
Go but to make the monster of the many!—
Battle-array—what is't?—No toilette, made
With exquisite and graceful taste: no, no,—
67
The appearance of the Million—not o'the one,
The studied, strict costume—'tis but the troops
In uniform precision. By the way—
Talking of uniforms—pray what is ours?
What sort of tailors have you here in Rome?
I vote the colour should be blue, dark-blue,
The livery of cerulean Italy!
What is the banner?
First Consp.
Say the tricolor!
Freedom's own chosen rainbow for long years.
De Tours.
Not so! 'tis rather out of fashion now,
And casts an unbecoming shade around.
I saw a handsome standard-bearer once
Beneath its inauspicious glare appear,
Indeed, all colours of the rainbow!—Say
Crimson!—'twere better much!
Guido.
(aside.)
Insufferable!
What frontless impudence!—what frivolous mirth.
Giu.
'Twere better, lest some slight suspicions were,
Haply, by your protracted stay aroused
With the fair countess, here to separate now,
Even without more delay! If ye approve,
My noble friends! our watchword's still, “Rienzi!”
De Tours.
I think you're right: we've been too long assembled.
'Twere dangerous— (aside)
—and grows rather tedious too.
Farewell! most lovely amazonian queen!—
Heed not my merriment—thou'lt praise my mettle,
When France—no! Italy and glory call,
And all the young and brave go forth in joy.
[Exeunt De Tours, Consp. &c.
68
(aside to Countess.)
Giacinta! leave us. I have much to say
To this young Bellafiore—much to teach.
Scarce yet initiated, he requires
Counsel and explanation, and likes not
To seem in your eyes but a raw recruit.
Gia.
I go.—I fear this wild de Tours hath harmed
Our solemn cause already!—think'st thou so?
Giu.
I own I tremble—but of this anon.
[Exit Giacinta.
Giulio goes to the Cabinet of Arms and brings two swords.
Giu.
Prince Guido, thou hast done me mortal wrong—
Thus give me reparation!—choose thy sword!
Guido.
How done thee wrong?—first let me know the cause!
Giu.
Thou hast supplanted me with her I love,
The beauteous countess!—Not a word—enough—
Defend thyself, or thou'rt a rank, base coward.
They fight. Giacinta rushes in and flings herself between them.
Gia.
What noise!—hold, hold—why? Giulio! Guido, hear!
Hold—hold, I say!—what mad, wild transport's this?
Giu.
I answer as I answered thee, Giacinta—
Ask thine own heart, and let that give reply.
Gia.
Put up—put up! for shame, ye recreant knights!
The red-right arms your suffering country needs
Should ye thus raise against each other?—shame—
Shall light, rude brawls disgrace, and mar, and stain
The dignity of that we have to do?—
Put up, I say, till that tremendous hour,
69
Leap forth those swords, like lightnings, from their sheaths:—
Put up!—put up!—I charge ye fight no more,
Or I will send, demanding a strict guard,
This instant to the authorities and powers,—
Then have ye bound in sureties to keep peace.
Ten thousand shames on both!—quick!—quick! put up!
If ye are leal staunch loyal knights.—But swear,
For my sake swear, and sacred guard your oath,
You will not draw again:—be quick!—swear, swear!—
Giu.
(sullenly.)
I swear, since I have sworn before to make
Thine every word my law.
Guido.
And I too swear:—
I have no quarrel with Count Giulio!—none!—
Gia.
'Tis well—once more I leave you, and do trust
Implicitly to your joint honour. (significantly)
Peace!
[Exit Giacinta.
Giu.
She hath thus sheathed our swords—but 'tis in vain—
We must not draw again—but we may die!
Let the survivor claim his radiant prize—
Lo! thus let lots decide the question, ha!—
Draw for the death-lot—'tis the longest—let
Whichever of us twain draws that one—die!
(He prepares lots.)
Guido.
Hold! Thou art mistaken—hast misunderstood.
I do not love the countess—and yet more,
I do adore another, and ere long
Shall hail that other, as I hope, my bride!
Giu.
Indeed! Then give me thus to grasp thy hand:
Wish me success—as I wish thee—the same.
Guido.
I do most truly!—prosper in thy suit—
70
I honour and admire the proud Giacinta—
But for my heart—another reigneth there!
[Exeunt together.
Scene II.
—An Apartment at the Palazzo Ceria, (Count Montalba's.)FLORA AND PRINCE GUIDO.
Flora.
What ails thee, Guido?—thou'rt abstracted—quite—
Extremely silent—and a little—dull!—
Why! yesterday 'twas different all indeed—
Such flights of wild, tempestuous eloquence!—
Such deep enthusiastic bursts of zeal!—
Hast thou not seen thine inspiration's source
And theme, the bright Giacinta, this fair morn?
Guido.
I have—and am but now returned from her.
Flora.
Indeed! you pass great portion of your time
Lackeying the haughty heels of that proud countess.
Guido.
Doth it displease thee that I go there oft?
Flora.
Oh! not at all!—why should it?—not the least!—
(Aside.)
Why doth he ask?—to make me say the—untruth?
Better he'd tacitly imagined it!
Guido.
I much admire the countess—she is all
That poets paint when they pourtray a heroine.
Flora.
Yes! but we want not that in actual life.
Methinks 'twere better she were soft and meek,
Domestic,—quiet,—she is far from that.
What is her history?—tell it me, I pray;
I know thou lik'st on that fair theme to dwell!
Guido.
I do admire her—thus much I confess—
71
And most imperially inspired of mien!
And wouldst thou learn her hapless history?
She married early—an untimely death
Befel her youthful husband and a sad!
I will relate it.—'Twas but some few months
After their marriage, at the carnival
At Naples—riding 'mid the crowding masks,
Through the Toledo-street, his horse took fright,
Became ungovernable—reared and plunged,
And threw its rider—pitching on his head,
He was insensible when taken up,
And after some few hours he breathed his last!
His widow then acquired enormous wealth
In Lombardy and here at Rome—herself
Had large possessions of her own, besides,
In Tuscany:—her unprotected state
Hath given her character, perchance, a shade
Of too much haughty independence, while
Her means thus vast bring—
Flora,
(interrupting him.)
Dainty widow! faith!—
But, Guido! art thou evermore to be
The follower of Giacinta?—dost thou mean
Thus frequently thy devoirs there to pay—
And—and—to keep me ever on the thorns
And tenter-hooks of—friendly fears for thee?—
Thou wilt repent this sudden freak, be sure!
But answer—wilt thou do thus ever?
Guido.
No!
Flora.
Wilt thou not haunt her flaunting footsteps?
Guido.
No!
Flora.
And—say—dost thou not love Giacinta?—
Guido.
No!
72
Nor with especial favour still regard?—
Guido.
Why—no! no! no!—thou hast the reply direct!
My sweet cross-questioner!—thy keen queries seem
Put in a lawyer-like and business style:
Wilt thou not go—nor pass—nor visit there?—
Nor love—regard—nor favour that fair dame?—
The inquisitorial glance and tongue can I
With most clear conscience thus unblenching meet!
Now hear me, loveliest Flora!—I will own
The dazzling witcheries of her queen-like charms
Did for brief while enchain me at her feet,
A worshipper at her triumphant wheels.
Nay!—start not! love was never in the case!—
'Twas admiration—wonder—almost awe—
Not love, although it might have mellowed grown
Into that bright emotion—but for thee!—
Thy sweet, sweet image rose between my soul
And the rare beauty of Giacinta—till
It blinded me with hope and happiness!
Flora.
And thou art true and leal and loyal still?—
Guido.
Still, and for ever!—oh! my best beloved!—
Yet other causes aided me to break
The glittering chains that bound me at those wheels.
Flora.
And what?—
Guido.
It matters not—since I am free!—
Flora.
Knows't thou 'tis bruited strongly, throughout Rome,
That fair Giacinta, with her heroine charms,
Is here the soul and centre of intrigue—
Regarded with suspicion and distrust
By the surrounding governments, and chief
By the Austrian.—I heard this averred—assured—
But yestereve—with hints that she is now
73
This renders her society scarce safe—
She holds a court of all the wildest here
And elsewhere!—discord's living firebrands—youths,
Who, lacking occupations and professions—
Are suffering with a surfeit of repose—
And prompt to work some great and mighty change,
Sith any change were luxury unto them!
Sick with satiety of idlesse thus,
'Tis said too she would dare all things to reign,
So high her fancy soars—Italia's queen!
I waste my breath!—nor you nor Eva bear
To hear aught whispered 'gainst Giacinta's name,
Yet from authentic sources fell these hints.
Guido.
These things may be—and yet such hints receive
With cautious circumspection evermore.
Report's a strange, wild babbler—trust her not.
I think the countess one whose lofty mind
Is fired by strong ambition—'tis no crime!—
She would exalt her land, and sow the seeds
Of fair improvement in her country still.
Thus much I think—and add to this—dear love!—
She is a warm, most fervent friend, I feel—
Devoted—zealous—cordial—and her heart
Is open as the day.
Flora.
These things may be!
Guido.
What! my sweet silvery echo! dost thou doubt me?
Nay!—thou art prejudiced—thou art indeed!
Enter Eva.
Eva.
Guido, art thou acquainted with a youth,
By name De Tours—who comes, ere long, to bring
Letters of introduction from Giacinta.
74
I met him at her palace but to-day—
(to Flora,)
I have much to say to thee, my Flora!—much!—
This evening wilt vouchsafe me, at my prayer,
Long audience—dear one!—dearest!—say but yes!
Flora.
Well!—yes—terday thou wert engaged, methinks,
In playing courtier near another throne!—
Guido.
Ah! unforgiving, cold, resentful, stern—
Flora.
Enough!—the catalogue grows lengthy—thus—
Of course most wearisome!—Yes! yes!—thy queen
Will deign vouchsafe thee audience! but once more
Most seriously—my Guido!—I beseech
Thou wilt not be by this dark Circe led
From honour's, wisdom's, love's fair paths astray.
Guido.
Never from love's!—is that not saying all—
Wisdom and honour—both inclusive—eh?—
And virtue too and glory, and yet more,
Untold—intolerable—happiness!
This evening then—this ev'ning thou shalt hear
What my heart yearns, and yet much dreads to speak.
Oh tell me, tell me—that thou lov'st me still!
Flora.
These lightning-shafts of jealousy have struck
My heart, to reach and bare its bedded wealth,
Dear love, of bright affections and emotions!
So earth is torn,—ere gleam her buried treasures!
Guido.
I hang on these sweet words, with more than joy!
Enter De Tours.
Eva.
You are most welcome, Sir!—I understand,
From the fair Countess di Castellenaria,
Your stay in Rome must of necessity
Be short.—It grows our pleasing duty still
To strive to make it pleasant;—but I fear,
So occupied will be your precious time,
With strict research of all the treasures here,
75
A leisure hour at Rome!
De Tours.
Nay!—Madam—nay!
I have explored the city—made my tour—
And may assume the travelled air of those
Who, having run through ruins, toiled up towers—
(To swallow down the country at a gulp,
With the fresh air that they imbibe on high,)
Glanced round famed galleries!—dived down dungeons drear!—
And posted through whole provinces—asleep!
Assume the encyclopedian stare and strut!—
And wrap in mysticism their—ignorance!
Flora.
You must have hurried strangely—it should seem
Two years are scarce enough to see all Rome!
De Tours.
Two hours suffice, believe me, if you have
A perfect guide-book—and a cicerone,
In good condition for a swinging walk.
Flora.
Dear Eva! I entreat you not to stay;
You have been suffering lately—had no sleep.—
M. De Tours will condescend to hold
Me your unworthy representative.
De Tours.
I urge! entreat!—implore!—am shocked—o'erwhelmed!—
For worlds would not detain you;—I beseech—
Eva.
I feel small scruple—past my poor deserts
Thus represented—therefore, Sir, farewell!—
[Exit Eva.
Guido.
[aside to Flora.]
He is conceit itself, and my aversion!
Farewell, sweet, till this evening!—fear me not!—
[Exit Guido.
Flo.
I need not ask, if to St. Peter's yet
76
De Tours.
Of course!—
That is, I peeped behind that ponderous curtain—
Which hangs ungracefully at the entrance;—glimpsed
The interior for an instant—I must own (hesitating.)
—
Flora.
(quickly,)
You surely were not disappointed there?
De Tours.
Why! not exactly! though a little,—yes!
It is too huge—and too colossal much!—
Too mountainous in its magnificence!—
Quite the Mont Blanc of architectural works!—
This is my feeling;—'tis a grand mistake
To make an edifice of any kind,
So vast and lofty as to throw i' the shade
That noblest of all nature's objects—man!
'Tis mortifying sure to feel oneself
Dwarfed—stunted—superseded—put aside!
A pigmy!—all our graces lost, or made
Ridiculously Liliputian!—bah!—
I would not for the world have past the curtain!—
I marked two youths—before they entered there
I had observed them—tall—well formed they seemed;
Perfectly dressed, and with l'air noble too!—
Will you believe me?—they seemed wholly changed!
Two little insignificant insects, lost
On that great floor—like the ocean's paven beach!
All their elaborate toilette quite in vain—
Dwindled and dwarfed they shrunk at once to ev'n
Minuteness microscopic—'twere enough
To crush the most egregious vanity.
Not for the world would I have made, I swear,
So poor an exhibition of myself!
I am rejoiced I did not pass the curtain:—
77
Of strange sepulchral hollowness. I doubt
A jest would roll out to a requiem there!
I'm thankful that I did not pass the curtain!—
Flora.
(smiling.)
But i'st not good to wound one's vanity?
'Tis sinful to be vain!—
De Tours.
How!—sinful!—no!
There you mistake! 'tis virtue to be vain!—
All good emotions spring from vanity!
Humility itself, for we do strive
And canvass for opinions in our favour,
Constitute all as judges of our looks,
Our words, our works, our talents—ev'n our dress!—
We love those who admire us—thence doth spring
Philanthropy and charity besides!
And few are pious too who are not vain!—
For the upturned eyes—the graceful attitude—
The soft expression of the countenance
All spring from gently prompting vanity!
Dictatress true!—Seems conscience dumb to her!—
Miscreants, and misanthropes, and misers all,
Become so from a lack of vanity;—
They study not what is becoming—pleasing!
They hang not on opinion for their bliss!
They spend not all to gain sweet admiration—
Oh! men grow heaps of vice that are not vain!
Flora.
A most convincing, excellent discourse!
(Enter Montalba.)
Allow me to present the Count Montalba.
De Tours.
(Bows.)
Delighted!—Count! I am most proud!
Mont.
(Bows.)
And I!—
And hope and trust you ofttimes will consent
78
De Tours.
Charmed! noble count, to cheat the laggard here!
The tortoise-paced old loiterer, Time!—believe me!—
Mont.
—Is't true you're now upon your way to join
The Egyptians 'gainst their foes, the Turks?—
De Tours.
I am!
Mont.
By heav'n! I envy you!—A noble strife,
And a sharp contest!—Are you not on fire
To take the field, and flesh your virgin sword!
De Tours.
Why! as to that, I know the smell of powder!
Also, another warlike whiff—of lint!
The unodoriferous scent of which is sickening!
As to the field!—your glorious field of war,
'Tis strangely like a rabbit-warren—heigh?
Chuck full of dangerous awkward holes—called—graves!
A sort of burrowing that is half—a bore!
Howe'er that be—I love it to my soul!
And by good old St. Dennis—ask no better
Than there in strife to live—in glory—fall!
We Frenchmen—sons and scions of the sword!
You know of old—accustomed are—to die!
Enter Servant.
Servant.
Count, the Marchese Della Moria waits.
Mont.
Usher him hither, and without delay!
I met him in the Piazza—but a moment—
And then he promised me this visit.—So!
Enter Della Moria.
My best dear friend!—ten thousand welcomes here!
Flora!—become acquainted with the man
Who beggars all my praise and more—esteem.
79
I am most happy!
De Tours.
Let me say farewell.
I have important business. (aside.)
'Tis too much!—
This scene of sentimental friendship—bah!
[Exit De Tours.
Flora.
And I must seek my gentle Eva now!
After your long estrangement from each other,
You must have much to say!—I feel assured.
[Exit Flora.
Della Moria.
I grieve to see, dear friend! how thou art changed!
I scarcely knew thee, when we met, erewhile.
Hast thou been ill?
Mont.
Oh, no! it is this life!
Moria.
What life?
Mont.
This life of dull stagnation here!
Torpid inaction and repose,—'tis worse
For aging one than any toil or strife!
Moria.
But thou art wedded unto one, of whom
Report saith wonders!—Nay!—I know she is
Perfection!—for I saw her but just now!
Mont.
Where saw her?
Moria.
Walking thoughtfully along
I' the statue-gallery, with Prince Bellafiore!
Mont.
(aside.)
Ha!—torture!—torture!—'tis a phrenzied thought!
But I do wrong her!—no!—no!—'tis not so!—
And so thou find'st me changed!—I marvel not.
Oh! this do-nothing, frigid, fatal life!
With nought to rouse or change the o'erwearied mood!
I gaze on Rome's gray ruins till I wish
For like decay!—or by the old river ride,
Chiding thee, Tiber,—for thy tardiness!—
80
Moria.
(aside.)
He is most strange!—I understand it not!
(To Mont.)
Now for brief season we must part again!—
I have much business on my hands, entailed
By lengthened absence—so farewell!—farewell!—
But for the present—since I purpose now
Long to remain at Rome—and be you sure
Shall much on you inflict my company!
Mont.
I will accompany your steps towards home!
[Exeunt both.
END OF ACT III.
| Eva : Or, The Error | |