University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Raymond, Salviati, Guglielmo.
Gu.
Oh! tell me in what posture are our hopes?

Ray.
Almost completed.

Sal.
Heaven, at length, smiles on us:
My hopes are more than realized.

Gu.
Far more
Than I was heretofore, ye find me ready,
And for an ample vengeance. Insolence!
Here Julian took upon himself erewhile
To covenant with me for our disgrace;
And afterwards Lorenzo joined his brother,
Threat'ning and arrogant. I spake to him
Now doubtful words, indignant now, now feign'd;
For the most part in servile tones disguised,
To tyrants so acceptable: they deem
No crime so dire as that of fearlessness.
I would not rouse suspicion in their souls;
They think me full of fear—But tell me how
The secret of the foreign armament
Hath thus in part transpired? Lorenzo seems,
'Tis true, to view it with consummate scorn,
And to account it th'ineffectual fruit
Of home-bred intrigues foster'd by ourselves.
Such confidence assists us; and though Julian
Hath intimated that he apprehends
Domestic discontents, he fancies not
The vengeance so inevitably near,
Or so alarming as it is. Ah say,
Is our success then certain? What assailant,
What arms, what means, where, when? ...

Ray.
Hear thou the whole.
Meanwhile with wonder be not stupified
At what Lorenzo knows. We artfully,
Their forces to divert, at first proclaim'd
The foe's approach. But in the vulgar ear
The arms of Rome exclusively resound.
“The holy Sixtus sends a little aid
“To rescue from their recent servitude
“The oppress'd Tuscan.”—The report behold,
In consequence of which I hoped, the tyrants
A scanty, but an open force expecting,
Would turn towards this alone their anxious thoughts;
And rightly I conjectured. To the camp,
At dawn of day, Lorenzo hastes to go;
But too inevitably will arise
That dawn for him, destined to be his last.
Both shall be slain to-morrow. I have chosen
A few, but stubborn both in hand and heart,
For the great enterprise. Anselmo, Albert,
Napoleon, and Bandini, and thy son.
Rinato vile, dishonouring our race,
Refused to be one of this noble band.

Gu.
Coward! and should he now betray us? ...

Ray.
Oh,
Could he imagine that! but, free from vice,
He has no virtue: speak of him no more.—
Ready for every signal, Anselm' keeps
His armed men; but wherefore they know not:
We shall commence th'attack at the same time
That he shall occupy the greater forum,
The palace; and the many avenues
Thitherward tending; thence the populace
Invite to freedom: we meanwhile shall join them ...

Gu.
But in one place t'inflict on them one death
Do you expect? Woe, if an interval,
E'en of one moment, 'twixt the blows elapse!

Ray.
Ere from these walls they issue to the camp,
At dawn of day, both to the church will go
T'implore Heaven's aid to their tyrannic arms:
There shall they both be slain.

Gu.
What do I hear?
In the house of God?

Sal.
Yes, in the house of God.
What victim can we offer to the skies
More welcome than an immolated tyrant?
Hath he not set th'example to defy
Men, laws, and nature, and high Heaven itself?

Gu.
Thou speakest truly; yet with human blood
To desecrate the altars ...

Sal.
Human blood,
The blood of tyrants? They on human blood
Who feed? And for such monsters shall there be
A sacred refuge? Turpitude be safe
There, where eternal justice has its throne?
Were they both wreathed around their Maker's image,
For this I would not sheathe my lifted sword.

Gu.
The people, who behold with other eyes
Actions like these, with thundering voice will call us
Irreverent, sacrilegious homicides.
This universal prejudice alone
Our enterprise may thwart, or wrest from us
All its advantages ...

Ray.
On th'other hand
This interval alone can serve our purpose:
There is no superfluity of time:
To-morrow they are sacrificed, or never.
That which is needful is t'ensure the blows;
Nor any place adapted to ensure them
Is there like this.—Considerest thou the people?
More than with anger, with astonishment
All innovation they are apt to view.
We will give orders, that, at the same moment
In which we draw our swords, the sacred roof
Shall echo with the anathemas of Rome.

Gu.
'Tis true, the name of Rome may do much here.
But which of us the honour shall obtain
Of the first blow? What post shall I fill up?
Wrath, impulse, courage, here alone suffice not.
Rather a will extravagantly warm
May injure here.—A cold ferocious valour,
A prompt and steady hand, a face unmoved,
A heart whose element is human blood,
A mute inflexibility of lip,
Men should have these who are tyrannicides.
A motion, nod, or look inopportune,
Nay, e'en a thought, may break the fatal charm,
The destined victim's confidence may thwart,
Time for the deed, the perpetrator's courage.

Ray.
We have ourselves arranged the first attack:
The first blow shall be mine: to quench their thirst
Then the less resolute shall venture forth,
Soon as the dastard tyrants on the earth,
Weltering in blood, praying for life, shall fall.
Father, the signal heard, if thou repair
Where stands Anselmo, thou wilt aid us much,
Far more than in the temple; from whose shelter,
Soon as the blow is hurl'd, we shall rush forth.
I grieve that I alone cannot at once
Both of them murder.—Oh! what saidst thou, father?
A prompt and steady hand? This very steel
Shall sooner fail than my right-hand and heart.

Gu.
Why emulating thee can I not strike?
'Tis true, too true, alas! that, weak with age,
My tremulous limbs to my untrembling heart
May give the lie. Thou art a light from Heaven
To dissipate my doubts: thou hast thought well:
For all hast well provided; and in vain
I speak. It pleases me that the first blows
Ye have awarded to yourselves alone.
How much I envy you! I only fear'd
Thou would'st refuse, with victims so impure,
To stain thy sacerdotal hand ...

Sal.
How ill
Thou knowest me! Behold my dagger; see it;
'Tis no less sacred than the hand that grasps it:
The holy Sixtus having bless'd it first,
To me consign'd it. Interchangeably
The same hand grasp'd the crosier and the sword:
T'extinguish tyrants, and their impious slaves,
The mighty God of battle arm'd himself,
The right-hand never fallible, and dire,
Of his anointed priests. These arms I grasp,
These consecrated, homicidal arms,
Shall hang one day an offering on these altars.
A fury more than human hath inflamed me:
And though I bring an arm unused to blood,
That heaven-descended fury, to the heart
Which I have chosen to pierce, shall guide my hand.

Gu.
And hast thou chosen then? ...

Sal.
Lorenzo.

Gu.
Ah!
The most ferocious?

Ray.
Though I had preferr'd
To slay the strongest, yet have I agreed
In this t'indulge him. Furthermore, I thought
That most assuredly the abject Julian
Would fence his cowardice in hidden mail;
Whence, as the enterprise most difficult,
Him I accepted. Thou shalt have Lorenzo;
The guilty Julian is my destined prey:
E'en now I grasp him: now within that breast,
Receptacle of treachery and fraud,
The sword I plunge up to the very hilt.
The signal to unsheathe, and to assault,
Will be the sacred moment, when, by hymns
Chaunted in whispers, from his high abode
The son of God mysteriously drawn down,
Enters the consecrated element.—
Now thou know'st all: as soon as thou shalt hear
The tolling of the saintly bell, rush forth;
And then remember, that our enterprise
Has been defeated, or is perfected.

Gu.
I will do all.—Let us now separate:—
Oh Night, thou last of slavery or life,
Hasten thy flagging and invidious course!—
Do thou meanwhile inflexibly, oh son,
Distrust Bianca: love doth often make
A woman's heart consummate in discernment.
And thou, oh Salviati, recollect,
That if thy first blow should be found abortive,
Lorenzo is not one to give thee time,
Or opportunity, to aim a second.