University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Pass in the Mountains near Messina.
Enter Guiscardo and Stephano.
Guis.
His words were fire—both light and heat! At once
With zeal, they warm'd us; and convinced, with reason.
I had read and heard of eloquence before;
How 'tis despotic, takes the heart by storm—
Whate'er the ramparts, prejudice, or use
Environ it withal—how, 'fore its march,
Stony resolves have given way like flax,
How it can raise, or lay, the mighty surge
Of popular commotion, as the wind,
The wave that frets the sea;—but till to-day,
I never proved its power. When he began,
A thousand hearers prick'd their ears to list,
With each a different heart; when he left off,
Each man could tell his neighbour's by his own.

Steph.
Is't John of Procida?

Guis.
So rumour says.
Who else? The constant'st friend of Sicily—
The friend that loves, yet suffers for his love.
Heard'st ever lips before, with power like his?
A holy man, and brigand, near me stood,
Wedged by the press together; churlishly
They first endured their compell'd neighbourhood,
And shrank from contact, they would fain escape.
The one with terror; and with scorn, the other,
Who blazed with life and passion, like a torch
Beside a taper;—such the man of prayer
Appear'd, in contrast with the freebooter.
But lo! the change! soon as the orator
That universal chord, with master skill,
Essay'd—the love of country—Like two springs,
Ravines apart, whose waters blend at last
In some sweet valley; leaning cheek to cheek,
Attracted by resistless sympathy,
Their tears together ran, one goodly river!
Hark! the dispersing crowd, taking their leave
From the last hill-tops. Let us join them.

[They cheer.
Steph.
Hither
Come Andrea and John of Procida.
Let's on, my friend, nor interrupt their converse,
For it seems deep, and earnest.

Guis.
Have with you.
I would Fernando had been here, that friend
I scarce can boast, yet can't refrain from loving.
If there be latent virtue in his blood,
Like what endears the land that gives us birth,
Such heart enforcement sure had call'd it forth!

[They go out.
Enter Procida, disguised as a Cordelier, and Andrea.
And.
You move my wonder, past the speaking on't.
I never dream'd, in such extremity,
Such hope could be so near!

Pro.
'Tis in the crisis
The fever does or dies. Our friends abroad
Are warm, and not a few; the fleet, you see
In the offing, and suppose the Pope's, is ours;
At home, Sicilians are as one single man,
Their thoughts, their feelings, their resolves, the same.
In this disguise, each quarter of the isle
Where man hath habitation, house, or cave,
I have visited; and tuned the minds of all
To the same temper and the selfsame aim,
Vengeance and liberty! Before a week
The hordes of France shall dwindle to the man
Whose execution ends them.

And.
Retribution
Indeed!

Pro.
Yes; sweeping and definitive.
Thou seem'st to lower at it. Hast any part
In France? Dost owe her kindliness or ruth?—
Thy tyranny that Sicily weeps, daily,
With blood!—her children's scourge, as testify
Murder and rapine, that unblushingly
Enact their parts in open day, and lust,
With quite as little shame! I know that men
Will turn to tigers in a storméd town
That's yielded them to sack; but Syracuse,
Palermo, and Messina, stood no siege;
And yet were they sack'd, and still the game goes on,
And in cold blood! What weighs upon thy heart?
Or what can weigh when thy dear native land
Is nigh to throw her grievous burden off?

And.
'Twas not with heed for France my visage fell,
But thee.

Pro.
But me! For what?

And.
Those who devote themselves
To virtuous causes, where bad men prevail,
And breed contamination, have at times
A hard and most ungracious part to play,
When those, they love, behoves they mark to suffer.

Pro.
Whom do I mark to suffer, yet do love?
I have no kindred, have I? If I have,
It must be only in that far degree
Where distance genders strangeness.

And.
Hadst thou not
A son?

Pro.
Thou know'st I had! Thou know'st he's dead!
The infant perish'd in the sacking of
My castle.—So it was affirm'd by one
Who brought the horrid tale—Is he alive?

And.
Be patient! You remember, do you not,
When he was four years old, or thereabouts—
You told me his age, for he was then a boy,
Might pass for six, and so I rated him,
He was so fine a child—you recollect
At e'en that tender age a hard excrescence,
And something like a wart, but larger, which
Like threatening mischief had begun to grow;
At thy request, I from his fore-arm cut.
'Twas rooted deep; as deep of course the wound,
And, answering to the knife, of crucial form!

Pro.
I recollect it! Is the boy alive?

And.
Listen! 'Twas here I cut it from his arm.
'Tis true another might have such a cause
For surgery in even such a place,
And such a scar the remedy might leave;
Though to my own hand I could safely swear.

Pro.
Hast seen the mark on any one?

And.
I pray you
Hear what I have to tell, then draw yourself
The inference.

Pro.
O Heaven! I have a son,
And he's in jeopardy, and I the cause!

And.
Remember you one Angelo Martini?

Pro.
Master-of-arms?

And.
The same; I went to see
The practice at his school. One—a young man
Of most commanding person, and of 'haviour
To win all hearts—took up the foil to play,
And baring his right arm for freer use—

Pro.
You saw the mark! You saw the scar!

And.
I did.
The very cicatrix my knife had left.

Pro.
I have not heard news of late—and such as this
Comes somewhat suddenly. Is he a man
Of honour?

And.
I would think him so.

Pro.
Would think?
Nay, then, I see what he is!

And.
Indeed, my friend,
I cannot say he is, nor yet, is not.

Pro.
You say he stands in danger, and from me.
'Tis clear as day—I comprehend it all!
He takes the part of France! His heart is French!
What Sicily gave to him he gives to France,
The curse of Sicily! And if a sword
Light on his head for that, who'll blame the smiter?
Not his own father?—Where abideth he?

And.
In Messina, with the governor.

Pro.
Perdition!
Scarce is the worst told, ere worse follows it!
The governor!

And.
Nay, John of Procida,
Command thyself!

Pro.
Couldst thou, if thou wast I?
Didst question him about that scar? Perhaps
'Tis not my son! O Heaven! in what a strait
A father may be put. I wish'd him dead
Just now. I own I did. Didst speak to him
About that mark?

And.
No—there were standers-by.

Pro.
You follow'd him out?

And.
No.

Pro.
No!

And.
One beckon'd me
Apart, and held mine ear; and when I turn'd
To look for him, I miss'd him. He had gone.

Pro.
You have seen him since, and spoken with him!

And.
No:
I have craved an audience, but was out of time.

Pro.
Indeed? A mighty man! You should have thrust
All let aside, and walk'd into his chamber,
And told him who you were—and what he was!

And.
Nay, you forget I was a stranger to him.

Pro.
Nay, you forgot you were his father's friend,
And by that title had a right to see him
At any place, at any hour o' the day.
Whom does he pass for?

And.
Not thy son.

Pro.
That's right!
I am very glad of that!

And.
All I could learn
Was this;—that in the sacking of thy castle
Your son alone escaped, a little child.
The governor adopted him, and gave him
The liberal training of a cavalier,
Favour on kindness grew, and love on favour,
And e'en to-day the governor bestows
His only daughter on him.

Pro.
Pestilence
Spring from their union if they wed!

And.
My friend!

Pro.
When is the ceremony?

And.
I have said
To-day.

Pro.
The hour—I mean the very hour.

And.
At twelve.

Pro.
Let the world end ere it takes place!
It must be stopp'd!

And.
And who shall stop it?

Pro.
I!
Straight to Messina. Come! The shortest way!

[They go out.