 | Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples |  |
ACT IV.
Scene I.
—Aversa. Wild Ravine, near Aversa.Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa discovered.
Zeppa.
Tell me how it was.
Beppo.
Nay, good Zeppa! there was in it as much jest
as earnest—
Ghino.
Ay, by'r lady! that there was, and more too!
Zeppa.
Then, by St. Iago! tarry not in the telling o't.
Your tale infected with a jest, like viands with
the fly, must to the cook at once. Delay would
spoil it!
Ghino.
You tell it, Beppo! I am no historian. But
do not lose, mind you, the joke for the facts!
Never fear me, Ghino! I'll be a true chronicler:
you shall have plenty of fancy to your small germ
of truth.
Zeppa.
A pregnant germ, then. But, begin—
Beppo.
About this time, yesterday, good Zeppa! were
these legs of mine dangling, look you—gracefully
as now they are—over the dim edge of this ravine;
and, mark you, this head of mine was also nodding
forward and backward,—thus!—typing the
doubt that even then pothered my poor brains,
whether it were not wiser to leap the precipice,
and end at once the dream and doubt, than still
to endure this idle life and its unsatisfied wants.
Ghino.
Ay, and I was thus recumbent by his side—
dreaming too—
Beppo.
You were asleep, Ghino! and snoring like a
gorged boar. The horrible music, by disturbing
my thoughts, would not permit my mind to make
up a bold resolve. Howbeit 'twas well I nought
and now tuned thy nasal organ on purpose, to
suspend my no less rash than prompt decision.
Ghino.
Resolve—decision! All needless trouble! Do
nothing, and the saints provide all! So acted
they in life, and it would be hard, if, after death,
they did not for their votaries what for them their
predecessors had done.
Beppo.
Why else should they be canonised?
Zeppa.
On with your story—
Beppo.
Well, then! While I was pondering and Ghino
serenading the echoes, roused reluctant by his
trombone from the rocky couches where they
slumber; who should come up, but, on horseback,
with half a score of followers, the Duke of Durazzo?
“Which of you,” he demanded, “can
guide us to the camp of King Louis of Hungary?”
—“That can I!” boldly replied Ghino,
waking up on the sudden. Ghino's always alive
to business, even when dead asleep—
His rest is but the pause 'tween storm and storm.
Beppo.
I then wished it had been perpetual. O, the
folly of human wishes! “Ha!” cried the Duke,
“That voice! By heaven! it is one of the
assassins! Seize them!” At the word, we were
in the grasp of his men.
Zeppa.
How did it end?
Beppo.
Right! I will make short work of it, as, in
sooth, I then did with the Duke. I warrant you,
I soon made it clear, how those two faithless
monks had betrayed us both. Nor was it long
ere we planned revenge together! For even, at
that moment, came Torello, from Naples, with
news. The Countess of Montoni, with all her
household, had been arrested by Hugh del Balzo:
the populace, no less than the Lazzari, were ready
for a rising. “Now,” cried the Duke, “I'll keep
your secret, insure your pardon; only incite your
fellows, in sufficient numbers, and visit Naples
instantly! Find ye the crowd apt, and stir afoot,
seize the advantage, enter the palace, secure the
Duchess of Durazzo, whom, in my haste, I left
behind; but here desire with me. Take this ring,
should ye meet, ye will know how for their treachery
to reward them. But do all in the names
of the Countess of Montoni, and her peasant father.
Salvator, if possible, secure too, and bring
back, as trophy; his presence here may be needful,
his cause expedient to our policy. Will ye do
it?” “We will!” So we sware it, and thus
parted;—he for Louis' camp, and—
Zeppa.
You for Naples.
Beppo.
Assuredly.—And by St. Jago! we found all ripe
for action. As the saints would have it, a brief
but decided shock had brought the frightened
people into the streets, full of the remembrance of
what Salvator had done in the last earthquake.
We swept amidst them, like a hurricane; and
there in the Bay, whom should we behold but the
dastardly monks?—
Zeppa.
Geronimo and Roberto?
Beppo.
Ay.—At once we denounced them, and, with the
word, sent a blow! It silenced their treasonous
malice for ever! That blow! 'Twas as if it had
been struck for freedom! And when we cried,
“For the palace!” we were borne within the
speech? Both the Duchess and the Catanese are
here!
Zeppa.
Now—where's the jest?
Beppo.
Is there no jest in the rhyme that burlesques heroic
action? Is it no jest when basest motive is
misnamed of noblest cause? Why, then, life is a
jest! Who can but laugh at such things?
Zeppa.
Nor laugh—nor weep—but bear an equal mind.
'Tis in vilest habit oft Providence disguises most
sacred justice; Liberty not seldom is the child
of strange occasion. Where the monks meant
malice, Heaven had purposed deliverance. Let
confusion grow, and ruin come of it; a phœnix
may rise from the ashes.
Beppo.
You have been your circuit? The glow of
high discoursing is yet on your lips.
Zeppa.
I have, boys! and the issues await but opportunity.
I have encountered burning spirits in rocks
and valleys, in wild retreats and mountainous
concealments; nor there, alone; but, in the
The Brethren have slain the Wolf to
avenge the Lamb! and over the bleeding corse
have sworn, against tyrannous power, an oath,
whose smallest whisper shall make monarchs
tremble. Talk no more, Beppo!—think no more
of ending, by self-violence, the dream and doubt!
live on! Fear is despicable; Despair is criminal;
Courage and Hope are the indispensable
attributes not only of uncommon heroism, but of
ordinary virtue. Hark! hush!—the Duke and
Duchess approach:—break off!—seem idle!
Enter Duke and Duchess of Durazzo.
Duke.
What make ye, loiterers! here? To the King's tent!
Be wary of your speech; ye'll find him, fellows!
A subtle questioner—
Beppo.
We shall be cautious—
[Exeunt Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa.
Duke.
Maria!
Duchess.
Back to Naples! take me back!
The sister of the Queen of Sicily
Demanded more respect. Dragged hitherward,
By Lazzari—I thought them at least soldiers,
Else even your signet-ring had not prevailed!
Is he content to hear me give him proof,
That she he wars against is innocent?
Who, then, is guilty, if the Queen be not?
His vengeance craves an object! will have one!
Whom shall he strike?—for some one he will strike—
It may be, thee! Do you regard your safety,
If not my honour? Instant back to Naples!
Duke.
More than my safety, my own honour! Thine
Need dread no violation. I know Louis,
Suspicious and revengeful, coarse in both;
Like an Hungarian: but Italian wit
Shall more than match his rudeness. Never fear—
Duchess.
Wit! late o'erreached, yet no less trusted to;
O'erreached by “coarse” Hungarian artifice!
Duke.
For which the doers paid the penalty—
The monks are dead!
Duchess.
I speak of wit—not force—
They died by force—not wit; and neither thine—
Duke.
Doubt you my courage?
No! But equal terms
Are needed to success. Who play the stake
For life or death, beware of vanity
That flatters self. Think rather of thyself
Too little, of thy foe too much—be wise!
Duke.
Your censure wounds me to the quick. No more!
Duchess.
Wilt back to Naples?
Duke.
If it please you—go;
But go alone! To Naples! Would you shun
To share the fortunes of your lord—be gone!
Duchess.
I fear not for myself; it is for thee!
Duke.
There is no man I dread in all the world.
Duchess.
Nor would I have thee any dread—save one.
Duke.
Who's he?
Duchess.
Yourself!
To Naples! I am here
Rooted! Safe here as Naples!—till I know
The balance be withdrawn from Balzo's hands—
Ha! Felix! Louis' officer and friend!
Enter Felix.
You seek me?
Felix.
And have found it hard to find you—
'Tis strange you wander, and unsafe, thus far.
Duke.
Hast news?
Felix.
A scout from Naples—
Duke.
What brings he?
Felix.
The Queen's left Naples, and is now at Rome,
Pleading her cause before the Pope in person.
Duke.
And Hugh del Balzo rules the while in Naples—
Dear wife! you must submit. We'll in to Louis—
Felix.
It was my errand. He would counsel with you.
[Exeunt.
Scene II.
—Magnificent Tent.—Officers discovered.—Flourish, loud and long.Enter Louis of Hungary with numerous Attendants, Duke and Duchess of Durazzo, followed by Salvator.
Louis.
Our Cousin of Durazzo, and fair Princess!
We do repeat the welcome that we spoke—
And know, great Duke! we have, apart
examined
The men you brought us; how their tales cohere,
We will hereafter take your judgement on!
For, as to make strange matter still more strange,
This step to Romeward of the Queen of Naples,
Unknown to us, is not unknown to all:
There's one among us, wiser than the rest!
Yon peasant-father of the imprisoned Countess
Had filled her office, had he not been thwarted!
By his advice, forsooth—his learnëd counsel—
The haughty Queen makes her appeal to Rome!
And from our clutch, by means so poor as these,
The vowëd victim 'scapes, and Vengeance mourns
The promised sacrifice, her righteous due!
Duke.
How know you this, my liege?
Louis.
By his confession—
While all men wondered, he alone was calm;
How came such knowledge to him? How to him!
Whom should it come to else, if not the man
Whose counsel had induced the royal mind?
Where's birth and station, now?
Duke.
What says Salvator?
Salvator.
No more than this. A poor man gave such counsel,
Being consulted, and it was accepted!
For in the heart where beats the love of country,
The wisdom lives, that at its need can serve it:
There patriot vigour thrives, where virtue dwells.
Were it not so, the weariness and wrong
That I have suffered—(let me boldly speak,
For death I fear not!)—had subdued me quite,
And mixed the crumbling dust that trembles on me
With that my footstep, though so feeble, spurns!
But Heaven hath granted, neither once nor twice,
But every day, that I should serve my country!
Louis.
How, every day?
Salvator.
As all who will may do—
Seldom are great occasions given to few:
But all, by abstinence and exercise,
May make the body strong from earliest youth,
And ripen slowly for a lengthened autumn;
And holding evil thus, with vice, at bay;
To Heaven obedient, working out its purpose,
And waiting on its will, full-confident
That what the morrow wants it shall provide;
Doing no wrong to others, and forgiving
The wrong that's done to us! He who thus lives,
Shall grow in health of limb, and calm of mind;
Serving, by merely living; and, though late,
Let but the Hour arrive, produce the Man,
Prepared in secret for a public cause.
—Thus have I lived, and thus, in my old age,
Can even endure what violence inflicts.
Louis.
A whining monk, without his frock! Away!
Salvator.
May I to Naples back?
Louis.
Where'er thou wilt.
So that thou cross my path no more!—
Forgiveness!
If I forgive his murderers may I perish!
Ha! the gross fraud! Scarce, man, I pardon thee,
For that thou plead'st for pardon unto others!
Nor would I—but that Vengeance were self-baffled,
Stooping to meaner quarry than the game
Whereto sure instinct prompts!—
You—and the rest—
[All exeunt, except Louis and the Duke.
Now, Coz! a word with you!
And think you, then, my soul so tame, so blind,
No feint, no trick, too palpable, too gross,
For my delusion? Scornëd instruments,
The poor and vile, the refuse of the earth,
Confound with ease my cunning, my revenge!
Duke.
If feint or trick there be, 'tis thine, not mine!
Louis.
Wouldst not mislead me with pretended proofs?
And lull me to a peace with canting prayers?
Duke.
Is this suspicion, then, thy gratitude,
For pledging with thee common cause, and lending
To thine invasion an Italian name,
Might make it look less foreign?
Louis.
Gratitude!
But that my honour's pawned for thy protection,
Death were the answer to thy false reproach!
Duke.
Death to thy honour, if I've cause of fear.
In a fair challenge, thou hast much as I!
I! Never!
Duke.
What suspect you? True, I left Naples,
Because Misrule was gathering to a head,
For indiscriminate slaughter. The young Queen,
Unused to sway, and sunk in reverie,
Awakened on the sudden; with wild gaze,
She placed the sword in the Avenger's hand,
And bade him smite where'er he would, that proof
Of vengeance might assure the wondering world
That she at least was guiltless. I came to thee;
Thou saw'st the advantage of my cause and name,
Added to thine. Now, why am I not trusted?
Louis.
Trusted! Who'd trust a trickster? Are you not one?
Who are those Lazzari, whose aid you purchased?
Apart
, (mark you,) I questioned them— Apart
.
There was no word of truth in one of them;
Nay, no consistence in the lies they told—
Yet these, forsooth, were “serviceable knaves”
It was your word—
Duke.
And is—
Louis.
Repeat it not!
Duke.
And is—and is. Wouldst more?
Too much for patience!
Repeat it not again—or stand on guard!
Duke.
You are a King!
Louis.
I waive the privilege!
Duke.
I will not . . . for your sake! Shall I go wild,
Because you lack of wit, and fail perception?
This is not Hungary, but Italy!
Louis
(drawing).
I were a fool, should I endure the taunt!
Duke.
Put up your sword; and learn more policy!
Learn of things wiser—of our better craft—
The voices of the living and the dead.
The grave itself should warn us, how we scorn
What is beneath us—there the despisëd worm
Feasts on the flesh of man; and man above it,
However high, may be brought down as low
By worms that look like men. We may not now
Contemn the poor, the vile (the times forbid it)—
At least, in Italy; whate'er you may,
In your own ruder land!
Louis.
Accursed such times!
They lied, you say; nor showed consistency!
How could they, since they lied, and were apart
Examined? Better craft than such, great King!
Must he acquire, who'd reign in Italy!
Louis.
Which I must learn of you?
Duke.
Just as you please—
Louis.
My brother, when alive, would not be duped so!
Duke.
It had been better, had he been less stubborn.
Louis.
Stubborn?
Duke.
Ay!—
Louis.
Mend the phrase!—
Duke.
I will not—
Louis.
Madness!
Insult him not, though you have murdered him!
Duke.
You go too far. My hands are white as yours,
But he mistook our manners. Breathe our air!
'Tis balm. Regard our skies! They're azure. List
Our speech! 'Tis music. Not a spot by land or water,
But to voluptuous pleasure tempts the soul,
To-day endeared by the to-morrow's danger!
Was this a place to bring a clouded brow,
A sad attire, and a harsh accent, to?
And did I wrong in telling him so much?
And did I merit therefore his disdain?
What then? I pitied, not revenged, the slight!
Himself, not me, he injured. All the saints
Refuse their intercession at my need,
If through my malice he incurred his death!
Louis.
I said not that he did—
Duke.
Indeed, you said so—
Louis.
You are too hasty, to apply each phrase—
Had you a brother lost by savage murder,
You'd have more feeling! Now, you are hard as marble!
Duke.
'Tis that my heart is scorned, so hides itself.
I scorned it not—
Duke.
You seemed to do so—
Louis.
I should not so seem, if you were not perverse.
Duke.
False accusation must expect denial.
Louis.
Traitors, assassins, wheresoe'er ye lurk,
Come, from your dark dens, forth! and, unavenged,
If I have twenty brothers, slay them all!
For I may not lament the death of one,
Unblamed; but what in other men is virtue,
Pity humane, and retribution just,
In me is vice, and folly, and brute malice!
O these blind aims! thus striking at the air,
And wounding but myself! Give me, good Heavens!
A lofty mark, that I may bring it down,
And, treading on, make it a pedestal,
Where I may stand erect, and feel myself
Raised to my wonted stature!
Duke.
You are not fallen,
If you not think so. All the world has noted,
Of courage prompt, of spirit unrepressed,
To encounter demons in his battle's cause!
Wherefore degraded in thine own esteem?
There is no man so high in that of others!
Louis.
And think you so? Then, pray, forget my rage!
Duke.
I pray you, forgive mine.
Louis.
You were too hot—
Duke.
Vouchsafe your hand—
Louis
(passionately).
No! I reserve it still,
To grasp, in the death agony, with that
Which smote my brother!
Duke.
You are royal now!
Louis.
And will remain so! When I lack of that,
Then men may wrong me, howsoe'er they will;
But till then, let them tremble!
Duke.
Thus resolved,
That I retire. With reverence due, farewell!
[Exit.
Louis
(alone).
Now I could weep! But that the tears would fall
Better from others' eyes! Be mine like stone,
Till they have looked on Vengeance, and the Gorgon
Undo the charm of old! My brother's shade
Shall be appeased, though seeking to avenge him,
I monster turn, and furies tame with horror!
[Exit.
| Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples | |