University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The Bay of Naples, with several Galleys in Harbour, by moonlight. Rock of Sant' Elmo, Fortress, and Cathedral. Anxious Groups: among them, the Carpenter at his bench, the Shoemaker with his tools, the Maccaroni dealer at his stall, and the Lazzare with his basket; also Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa. Crowds, likewise, walking in different directions. Hungarians and Neapolitans.
Beppo.
See you what number of Hungarian habits
Shame the passeggio?

Ghino.
Let come the earthquake—
I'd benefit by the tumult, and would rid
Our Naples of a few—

Zeppa.
The Chancellor!
A better time will come to strike for freedom!

[They retire.
Enter Hugh del Balzo, Talano, and Bruno.
Balzo.
What said the Lazzari? Keep watch upon them!
Not very likely, in so fair a night,
Earthquake should threaten—

Talano.
What should dream it,
But a monk's addled brain, gone mad upon
Astrology?

Balzo.
It is but nine days' since
We had a shock, though slight: they do not use
To come so soon.

Bruno.
It is an idle terror!
Here hastes Geronimo, Roberto's brother—

Balzo.
His spy!—more rude and obstinate in mind,
And more uncivil in his speech, withal;
As dull, and yet as sharp, in his retorts,
As shot poured back from the unflashing rock!
Enter Geronimo.
What now, good Friar?

Geronimo.
How then, wise Chancellor?

Balzo.
Have you just left their Majesties' retinue?

Geronimo.
You see I have.—I am their messenger.
The Queen has risen from Sant' Elmo's altar,
And hither with her train expects your duty.
Though barefoot, and in rags of penitence,
Though humbled before heaven, yet Majesty
Needs service still on earth from mortal man.

Balzo.
We are in waiting on their Majesties.

Enter (descending by Sant' Elmo's rock) the Queen (Giovanna), Andreas, and numerous Attendants; followed by the Duke and Duchess Durazzo, and Philippa, Salvator, Roberto, and their respective Trains.
Queen.
Balzo, our trusty Chancellor.

Balzo.
I attend
Your pleasure; touched, by the humility
Which now your royal person undergoes,
To wonder, that would worship you, as you
The Virgin, with profound devotedness.

Philippa
(after a pause).
Balzo! the silence of our royal mistress
Rebukes this adulation. And your ear
Is needed now, while truth from clouds of time
Emerges, and grows audible, long mute.

Balzo.
Speak not in riddles—

Philippa.
Let my Father speak,
As speak the poor, right out.

Balzo.
Produce him—

Philippa.
Here—

Queen.
We would that of his witness you be audient—
Since it the powerful doth implicate.
Say now, Salvator! what you have to say.

Salvator.
Pardon me, lady! if, in royal presence,
I should demean me with too bold a speech.

Queen.
Speak freely on, as to a fellow-creature:
We all are equal in a time like this—

Salvator.
Taught by my parents to respect the Church,
My mind grew up in Catholic belief,
Referring all I knew to law divine;
Whence I was curious in the lives of Saints,
Of Anchorites, and other holy men,
And learned from them, and such discourse as theirs,
To value their Religious Poverty;
But, prizing still the freedom of my life,
Desired to make, and keep, the Vow they took,
Without forsaking worldly business.
This did I formally, at earliest manhood,
In secret to a priest; nor boasting made,
But cherished it in conscience as my law.

Philippa.
Not then to shame my pride, to mock my state;
But simply as a fore-appointed rule
Of temperance, the vow, whereof they spake,
By thee was perseveringly maintained,
'Gainst the temptations I assailed it with?

Salvator.
No more, Philippa! 'twas their treasonous falsehood,
Which late I have detected. Look! that monk,
Geronimo, from you so often sent
To my Catanian dwelling, nine days since,
Came there, and broached the suit, which findeth me
In Naples now.

Queen.
Stand forth, Geronimo!—
Go on, Salvator! with thy tale; it pleases.

Salvator.
Thus I obey your Majesty's commands.
This monk, as I have said, did visit me,
'Gainst her still pleading witchcraft and ambition,
Pride and oppression, mainly of the poor!

Philippa.
O God! O God!—

Queen.
Be calm, Montoni!—Well?

Salvator.
And roused my anger to a towering pitch:
Then of Roberto's prophecy he spake—
“Come,” said he, “and serve now the cause of God,
Of the poor, and of the Church—the time is come!
With me to Naples, while the popular mind
Seethes in the ferment that increases daily,
And charge her, though your daughter, (for what reck
Relationships of earth, when Heaven demands
The sacrifice of every natural feeling,
For interests that the world itself transcend?)
And charge her publicly with public guilt;
Then, in the tumult of the storm thereafter,
(For it will surely come,) we will enflame
The passions of the multitude, incite
Revolt, set free the slaves on board the galley,
To' enhance confusion; in the midst whereof,
The Queen, the Countess, and their partisans,
Being seized, may be deposed, and, with acclaim,
Andreas pronounced sole monarch!”

Queen.
Speak, my Andreas!
What dreadful part had you in this dark plot?

Andreas.
None, royal wife! Or else the old man lies,
Or else the monk spake from himself alone!

Salvator.
I lie not, sir! Ask him!

Roberto.
Nay, ask not him—
He nothing says, unless you first concede,
His order vouches him incapable
Of wrong in word or act.

Queen.
That were to grant
What would preclude enquiry—

Salvator.
Which not now
May be pursued. Even now the Earthquake hastes!
Look not incredulous—for it is true!
The starry proofs, which well as he I know,
Trust me, prohibit hope!—While we discourse,
Lo, the serene and lovely midnight sky
Is shadowed, and the wan and westering moon
Doth hide herself behind St. Martin's mount,
Her face much darkened, partly veiled with clouds!
Big pattering drops prelude the impatient storm!
Stand still, and listen! Know ye not the sounds
Precede the crash?—It comes! (Loud rumbling noise.)
The Earth is shaken!

[Loud thunder. All the groups are startled—their furniture of trade, &c., overthrown. Many cast themselves on the ground.
Roberto.
Forth to the churches! fall before the Virgin!

Queen.
Away! away! Stay not behind, Montoni!

Philippa.
Who would take shelter now, when even the buildings,
We seek to shield, may topple down, and crush us?
—I follow, royal mistress! One word only,
First, with Salvator!

Queen.
As you will! Lead on!—

[Exeunt omnes, except Salvator, Philippa, Evoli, Sancha, Terlizi.—Thunder.
Philippa.
Even midst this tumult of the elements,
Let calm dwell in the temple of our souls!
And now a solemn hush comes o'er them, too;
'Tis thus they teach us peace, even in their angers!
My husband and my children! this is he,
Whose wisdom, I so frequently have said,
Built up the mind within me, being thus
A double parent to me. (To Salvator.)
See your grandchild!
Her name is Sancha, after the fair Queen
Of good King Robert, in whose grace I grew.
(The stillness seems to deepen—though it darkens;
The hovering rain-clouds gather thick and fast!)
What say you, Sancha! to our noble sire?
Revere him as a memory changed to hope—
Our ancestor, uprisen from the grave
Of a past generation!

Sancha.
I'll worship him as
The Father of my fathers!

Philippa.
To his arms,
And let him feel himself, he is such indeed!

Salvator.
The founder of a race! O, wicked monks!
Whom their own wickedness deceived! translating
My words into their meaning!

Philippa.
What words! Father!
The storm abates, and I can listen!

Salvator.
Thus
Said I, after Geronimo had finished:
“Such storm, such earthquake, will, indeed, shake Naples
To her foundations—I will go with you,
And, if the earth should open with the shock,
Will plunge myself into the gulf, like Curtius;
For, haply, heaven may pardon, for the sake
Of such a martyrdom, both the guilty city,
And they who rule her; most of all, Philippa:
Or should they perish, I will perish too!”

[Thunder.
Philippa.
Mercy of heaven! Earth shakes again—'tis past!
Thou hast saved Naples, father! but not me.
This act of thine brings discontent to head;
Henceforth, my foes are enemies indeed;
And I, or they, must perish in the sequel.
But that confide we to the saints!

[Storm, which increases.
Salvator.
Say you?

Philippa.
Peace—peace!

[Rain—wind—lightning—thunder, &c.
Salvator.
No peace! The storm is up! Heavens! what a storm!

Philippa.
Let's seek the Queen—

Salvator.
Go you, and seek her straight—
I've work elsewhere! Believe me! No delay!
Trust in my wisdom! Quick! Which is the galley
That holds the slaves?

Philippa.
That—that!

Salvator.
Enough—Go—Quick—
Farewell!

Philippa.
Farewell!—and let us say for ever!
For we may never meet again!

Salvator.
We shall!
But, ne'ertheless, farewell—as if for ever!

[Exeunt omnes, except Salvator.
Salvator
(alone).
That hold of galley-slaves! They're tampering there!
What I have said is little, if I let
Them do their work. Upon that galley's deck
My foot must tread—my presence must be there!
The way—the way? Be Providence my guide!
An old man's life like mine is little risk;
Yet guard it, heaven! for the city's sake!

[Exit. Violent Storm, and convulsion of the Sea in the Bay. It becomes quite dark.
Enter Roberto and Andreas.
Andreas.
Roberto! where art thou? It darkens strangely!

Roberto.
Here! take my hand! What! fearest thou? O, let
A royal soul inform a royal bosom!

Andreas.
The dread contention of the elements
Is universal—

Roberto.
Nothing less than this:
A terrible conspiracy of all
The Mediterranean, and the Adriatic,
With earth and heaven!

Andreas.
Conspiracy—most clear—
Divulged—as ours! Without, within, is storm,
And earthquake, ruin, horror, and remorse!
I am myself the mere wreck of a King!

Roberto.
Of a Queen's husband—yet to be a King!
If policy and courage but cohere!
The ruin is a Chrysalid, wherefrom
The entombëd Sylph emerges, winged and crowned—
Even so the statue's in the block contained,
But needs the Sculptor's hand to set it free—
And such be mine!

[Storm continues.
Andreas
(vehemently.)
Tempt me no more!—

Roberto
(surprised and troubled).
How now?

Andreas
(disregarding him).
What water floods! what wind! and, hark! what thunder!
What fearful rumbling in the heavens above us!
What horrible tremblings in the earth we stand on!
What vehement commotions in the sea!
What shrieks of the amazed, distracted throng!
The darkness deepens!

Roberto.
Where left you the Queen?

Andreas.
Before the altar; with the priests at mass,
New-robëd for its celebration,
Stretched on the ground in supplicating prayer;
While her attendants, and the multitude,
Prostrate in fear,—

Roberto.
Ha! had Salvator stood
The putting-on, there 'mong them, even now,
I would have rushed, and, with deep-tonëd voice,
In strain prophetic, called upon the crowd,
To rise in mad revolt!

Andreas.
Obtuse the Monk,
Thus to mistake the letter for the spirit,
In what the old man said!

Roberto.
What! if he should,
Obedient to mere orders, without wit
To understand that what has happened since
Revokes them, be involving us more deeply?
Where is he?

Enter Geronimo.
Geronimo.
Ho! Roberto! Andreas!

Andreas.
There!

Roberto.
(Storm.)
His voice! How the earth reels! I'll answer him!
Geronimo!

Geronimo.
Here! Stand you where you are—
[Gropes about, and comes forward.
I've found you!—

Roberto.
(Storm.)
Earth is reeling! You are stedfast?

Geronimo.
At least, not easily moved—Yet have I been!

Roberto.
When?

Geronimo.
Just now!

Roberto.
Speak!

Geronimo.
Salvator is aboard
The galley' among the slaves—the maddened slaves!

Andreas.
Urging rebellion in his daughter's favour?

Geronimo.
No; I was there, according to instructions—

Roberto.
Fool! dolt!—But he?— (Storm.)
Till this shock passes, pause!—
Now speak, Geronimo!—

Geronimo.
How Salvator got
On board I know not; but he trod the deck,
Likest an ancient god, or risen saint.
His name was known, even there, in that sea-prison
(So fast same travels when ill-luck is busy);
And when he said, “I am Salvator!” they
Shouted aloud, and, at his word, enforced
My absence with a zeal, had been my death,
But for his softening—

[Storm.
Roberto.
Felt you not that shock?
Earth's drunken with heaven's anger! Well! no more?
Did the world reel, you were insensible!

Geronimo.
I reached the port, but strangely! There amidst,
Were scattered on the sea, and for the shore
Struggling, wave-battered, countless crowds of wretches,
The storm had dashed like shells against the beach,
Covered already with the drowned, half-drowned,
With fractured skulls, with limbs and limbless bodies.
The sands, whereon we wont to walk, boil up!
Messina's faro or Charybdis' whirlpool,
Are spots of safety to them!—See, those torches
At yonder horn of the Bay! A thousand or more
Of Neapolitan nobility,
Mounted on horseback, have assembled there,
To solemnise their country's obsequies.
The Queen and retinue in sacred silence,
This way return. Behold!

[Storm.
Re-enter Queen, Philippa, and processions—with lighted torches.
Philippa.
Where is the monk?
O Night! O Naples! Miracle, and Doom!
Not swart nor azure, as in common storms,
The billows roll, like tumbling hills of snow,
In ghastly whiteness through the grave of space!
The sea begins to undermine the ground:
They say, 'twill soon explode beneath our feet!
Where is the monk?

Geronimo.
I stand before you now.

Philippa.
Said you, Salvator boarded the slave-galley?

Geronimo.
I did.

Philippa.
O, gracious God! no vessel may resist
The gale! Send torches up Sant' Elmo's rock!
See how the galleys toss, and rise, and sink—
O, heaven and earth! for pity!—'tis in vain!
Three have gone down at once for ever! Which
Were they?

Geronimo.
The Cyprian—

Philippa.
Fool to forget it!
The others are in harbour. There—they heave
Against each other! Now they strike, and strike—
And they do sink—and all on board do perish!
Only the slave-ship lives! Spare that, O God! O God!

[Meanwhile, the rock becomes covered with torchlit groups; and a loud peal of music from the organ in Sant' Elmo cleaves the noise of the storm.
Curtain falls.