CHARLES DI TOCCA
CHARLES DI TOCCA
A Tragedy
By
Cale Young Rice
McClure, Phillips & Co.
New York
1903
Copyright, 1903, By
CALE YOUNG RICE
Published, March, 1903. R
To My Wife
CHARLES DI TOCCA
[ 2 ]
CHARLES DI TOCCA
A Tragedy
| CHARLES DI TOCCA | Duke of Leucadia, Tyrant of Arta, etc. |
| ANTONIO DI TOCCA | His son. |
| HÆMON | A Greek noble. |
| BARDAS | His friend. |
| CARDINAL JULIAN | The Pope's Legate. |
| AGABUS | A mad monk. |
| CECCO | Seneschal of the Castle. |
| FULVIA COLONNA | Under the duke's protection. |
| HELENA | Sister to Hæmon. |
| GIULIA | Serving Fulvia. |
| PAULA | Serving Helena. |
| LYGIA PHAON ZOE BASIL |
Revellers. |
Nardo, a boy, and Diogenes, a philosopher.
A Captain of the Guard. Soldiers, Guests,
Attendants, etc.
Time: Fifteenth Century.
[ 3 ]
ACT ONE
Scene.—The Island Leucadia. A ruined temple of Apollo near the town of Pharo. Broken columns and stones are strewn, or stand desolately about. It is night—the moon rising. Antonio, who has been waiting impatiently, seats himself on a stone. By a road near the ruins Fulvia enters, cloaked.
My father's unforgetting Fulvia?
These stones have tongue and passion.
Recalling dreams of dim antiquity's
Heroic bloom worked on me.—But whence are
Your steps, so late, alone?
Who has but come.
The moody bolt of Rome broods over us.
With him to-day? Ah, true. What may be done?
Seeing the Cross, but softly and almost
As it were some sweet thing he loved.
'Twere some sweet thing—he laughs—is strange—you say?
Who but for some expectancy is vacant.
(She makes to go.)
Last night I dreamed of you: in vain you hovered
To reach me from the coil of swift Charybdis.
(A low cry, Antonio starts.)
(Looking down the road.)
And hasting here!
'Tis one would speak with me.
Enter Helena frightedly with Paula.
[ 6 ]
And tremble as a blossom quick with fear
Of shattering. What is it? Speak.
O, 'tis not true!
With one glance o'er the precipice of ill!
Say his incanted prophecies spring from
No power that's more than frenzied fantasy!
More than visible and present day
Can gather to his eye? Tell me.
Ah, chide me not!—mad Agabus, who can
[ 7 ]Unsphere dark spirits from their evil airs
And show all things of love or death, seized me
As hither I stole to thee. With wild looks
And wilder lips he vented on my ear
Boding more wild than both. "Sappho!" he cried,
"Sappho! Sappho!" and probed my eyes as if
Destiny moved dark-visaged in their deeps.
Then tore his rags and moaned, "So young, to cease!"
Gazed then out into awful vacancy;
And whispered hotly, following his gaze,
"The Shadow! Shadow!"
A sudden gloomy surge of superstition.
Put it from you, my Helena.
Has often cleft the future with his ken,
Seen through it to some lurking misery
[ 8 ]And mar of love: or the dim knell of death
Heard and revealed.
God lives but to fulfil his prophecies!
One treacherous, and in avenge made fierce
Treaty with Hell that lends him sight of all
Ills that arise from it to mated hearts!
Yet look not so, my lord! I'll trust thine eyes
That tell me love is master of all times,
And thou of all love master!
Then will the winds return unto the night
And flute us lover songs of happiness!
We tryst beneath the moon?
Athene looks again out of thy lids,
And Venus trembles in thy every limb!
Wounded Adonis dead, and to forget,
Like Sappho leaped, 'tis said, from yonder cliff
Down to the waves' oblivion below.
And yet there is—— (Turns away from her.)
A little was moved.
My tears to laughter, if but fantasy
May so unmettle you! Not moved, indeed!
Not moved, Antonio?
My Helena, with these numb awes that wind
About our joy.
Drive all gloom out of the world!
On Fate's hard brow would shame it of all frown!
When no more gloom's in the world!
That lend it might. If I pressed other——
You should not know that any other lips
[ 11 ]Could e'er be pressed; I'll have no kiss but his
Who is all blind to every mouth but mine!
(Breaks from him.)
(Kisses her again.)
To-night seem ominous—as cloud-flakes flung[ 12 ]
Upward before the heaving of the west.
(In fright) Oh!
Enter Agabus unkempt and distracted.
To pray for your two souls. (Crossing himself.) Not I! Not I!
Know you not love is brewed of lust and fire?
It gnaws and burns, until the Shadow—Sir,
(Searching about the air.)
Have you not seen a Shadow pass?
[ 13 ]I'd have him for my brain—it shakes with fever.
(Goes searching anxiously.
Of impotence—as one who in a tomb
Awakes and waits?
(A shout is heard.)
From Arta?
Not see us!
(They conceal themselves in the breach. [ 14 ] The soldiers pass across the stage. The last, as all shout "di Tocca!" strikes a column near him. It falls, and Helena starts forward shuddering.)
Under my feet!
Omen and dread to you?
The pillar grieving Venus leant upon
Ere to forget she leapt, and wrote,
When falls this pillar tall and proud
Let surest lovers weave their shroud.
Are burdened with foreboding! And it seems—
Touch me lest I forget my natural flesh
In this unnatural awe! (He takes her to him.)
Ah how thy arms
Warm the cold moan and misery of fear
Out of my veins!
Again the attraction of these dim portents.
Nay, quiver not! 'tis but a passing mist,
And this that runs in us is worthless dread!
But wedding robes and wreaths and pageantry![ 16 ]
And you shall be my Sappho—but through joys
Such as shall legend ecstasy about
Our knitted names when distant lovers dream.
Unloose this strangling secrecy and be
Open in love. My brother, Hæmon, let
Our hearts betrothed exchange and hope be told
Him and thy father!
Before your eyes no more!—say that it can!
And melancholy: must be won with service.
And you are Greek, a name till yesterday
I never knew pass in the portal to[ 17 ]
My father's ear, but it came out his mouth
Headlong and dark with curses.
He oft has smiled upon me as he passed.
And saw you not.
He looked as you, when, moonlight in my hair,
You call me——
You say so—is it kind?
Words were they miracles of beauty could
As little reveal you as a taper's ray
The lone profundity and space of night!
If sometimes they trip out upon your lips.
Upon me for thy sake.
Near him. But yesterday he called for song,
Dancing and wine.
So dyed in crime that secrecy must seem
Yoke-mate of guilt.
I would do all lest now it turn to fate
Under our feet and draw us out——
Enter Paula.
Not space enough but he must needs come here!
If it were——?
Feverous bitter.
But now, away. Forget this dread and be you
By day my lark, by night my nightingale,
Not a sad bird of boding!
All will be well.
[ 20 ]Only a little slept from your life's shore
Out on the infinite of love, whose air
Is awe and mystery.
Think of me oft!
(She goes with Paula. He steps aside and watches the approaching forms.)
My father!
Enter Charles friendly, with Hæmon.
Who is she? Ah, young blood and Spring and night!
Would muse on?
The word, you see, founts easy to my lips.
(With confidential archness.) 'Tis recent in my thought—as you will learn.
Well, to the lay!
(He goes.
The bread of honesty, the hope of age!
Are drunken, bloody, indolent, and lust
To tear all innocence away and robe
Our loveliest in shame!—Yet me, a Greek,
He suddenly befriends!
Over a beggar's pain than prince's fingers.
You're not Antonio, son of Charles di Tocca?
Against a miracle, you are his heir!
My confidence once curbed——
Let it! for fools are threats, and cowards. Were
You Tamerlane and mine the skull should cap
A bloody pyramid of enemies,
I'd——!
Fair graces? No, my lord—not so. Your sword
And doublet are sublimely worn! sublimely!
Your curls would tempt an empress' fingers, and——
And not this subtle pride! You would be friend,
A friend to me—a friend!—Did not your father
Into a sick and sunless keep cast mine
Because he was a Greek and still a Greek,
And would not be a slave? His cunning has
Not whispered death about him as a pest?
He—he, my friend? and you?—And I on him
Should lean, and flatter——?
The times are tyrannous and men like beasts
Find mercy preservation's enemy.[ 24 ]
You're heated with suspicion and old wrong,
But take my hand as pledge——
Enter Bardas.
Well met then: to your doors my want was bent
With a request.
And if I can will grant.
As is my tongue.
Our mood is so.
Not love: I am idolatrous before
Her foot's least print, and cannot breathe or pray
But where she's sometime been and left a heaven![ 25 ]
Antonio, sue for me. You have been apt
In all love's skill they say. My oath on it
Your words once sown upon her listening
Would not lie fruitless did they bid her yield
More than her most.
Unseemliness run in your thought?
Antonio, speak.
Helena, whom I've seen, would little thank
The eyes that told her own where they should love.
Occasion oft for loaning of some chance[ 26 ]
Worthily to repay you. If 'tis this,
I am distrest. I cannot plead your suit.
Ask me for service on your foes, for gold,
Faith or devotion, friendship you're aloof to,
For all that will and honor well may render
With nicety, and I'll be wings and heart,
More—drudge to your desire.
Bardas, you must atone——
Is goad and gall! Why do you burn my cheek
With this indignity?
A little since one of your father's guard
Gave his command in seal to Helena
Upon the streets, to instantly repair[ 27 ]
Unto his halls—which she must henceforth honor.
You knew it not?
Be sure none will suspect he is too old
For knightly feat like this—and that he has
A son!
You stab me through another—you, my friend?
The race of Charles di Tocca bold, or other
But empty of all lies in deed or speech,
It grows—a little low?
Are mad! I'm naked of this thing, and hide
No guilt behind the wonder of my face.[ 28 ]
For Paradises brimming with all Beauty
I would not lay one fancy's weight of shame
On her you name!
A breath too heavenly.
You have repaid yourself—cast on me words
Intolerable more than loss of life.
You both shall learn this night's entangling.
But know, between her, Helena, and shame
I burn with flaming heart and fearless hand!
(Goes angrily.
No flesh to understand this passion then?[ 29 ]
Bound to the wings of wide ambition he
Will choose undowered worth?—To the ordeal
Of mere suspicion's flaming I'd not trust
The fairness of his name; but doubts in me
Are sunk with proofs.
He could not. No! he dare not!
Cecco, the duke's half-seneschal, half-spy,
I passed upon the streets o'ermuch in wine,
Leaning upon a tipsier jade and spouting
With drunken mockery,
"'Sweet Helena! Fair Helena!' Pluck me, wench, but the lord Antonio knows sound nuts! And sly! Why hear you now! he gets the duke to seize on the maid! The fox! The rat! Have I not heard him in his chamber these[ 30 ] thirty nights puff her name out his window with as many honeyed drawls of passion as—as—as—June has buds? 'Sweet Helena!'—la! 'Fair Helena!'—O! 'Dear Helena! my rose! my queen! my sun and moon and stars! Thy kiss is still at my lips, thy breast beats still on mine! my Helena!'—Um! Oh, 'tmust be a rare damsel. I'll make a sluice between her purse and mine, wench; do you hear?"
He swore it was unswerving all and truth.
Hasting to warn I found Helena ta'en
And sought you here.
All purity!
[ 31 ]With strength been father and with tenderness
A mother been to her unfolding years
But to see now unchastest cruelty
Pluck her white bloom to ease his idle sense
One fragrant hour?—If it be so, no flowers
Should blossom; only weeds whose withering
Can hurt no heart!
Against him!
Him in the tempest raised of his outrage!
But hear; who comes? (Revellers are heard approaching.)
We must aside until
This mirth is past. (They conceal themselves.)
Enter revellers dressed as bacchanals and bacchantes, dancing and singing.
[ 32 ]
The vine! a fig for the rest!
With locks green-crowned and lips red-warm—
The vine! the vine's the best!
He loved maids, O-o-ay! hei-yo!
The vine! a maiden's breast!
He pressed the grape, and kissed the maid!—
The cuckoo builds no nest!
(All go dancing, except Lydia and Phaon, who clasps and kisses her passionately)
Lydia (breaking from him): Do you think kisses are so cheap? You must know mine fill my purse! A pretty gallant from Naples, with laces and silks and jewels gave me this ring last year for but one. And another lover from Venice gave me this (a bracelet)—but he looked so sad when he gave it. Ah, his eyes! I'd not have cared if he had given me naught.
Phaon: Here, here, then! (Offers jewel.)[ 33 ]
Lydia (putting it aside): They say the ladies in Venice ride with their lovers through the streets all night in boats: and the very moon shines more passionately there. Is it true?
Phaon: Yes, yes. But kiss me, Lydia! Take this jewel—my last. Be mine to-night, no other's! We'll prate of Venice another time.
Lydia: Another time we'll prate of kisses. I'll not have the jewel.
Phaon: Not have it! Now you're turning nun! a soft and virgin, silly nun! With a gray gown to hide these shoulders that—shall I whisper it?
Lydia: Devil! they're not! A nice lover called them round and fair last night. And I've been sick! And—I—cruel! cruel! cruel! (Revellers are heard returning.) There, they're coming.
Phaon: Never mind, my girl. But you mustn't scorn a man's blood when it's afire.
[ 34 ]
Re-enter Revellers singing
(After which all go, except Zoe and Basil.
Zoe: O! O! O! but 'tis brave! Wine, Basil! Wine, my knight, my Bacchus! Ho! ho! my god! you wheeze like a cross-bow. Is it years, my wooer, years?—Ah! (She sighs.)
Basil: Sighs—sighs! Now look for showers.
Zoe: Basil—you were my first lover—except the duke Charles. Ah, did you see how that Helena looked when they gave her the duke's command? I was like that once. (Hæmon starts forward.)
Basil: Fiends, nymphs and saints! it's come! tears in your eyes! Zoe, stop it. Would you have mine leak and drive me to a monastery for shelter!
She lay by the river, dead,
A broken reed in her hand
[ 35 ]A nymph whom an idle god had wed
And led from her maidenland.
Basil: O, had I been born a heathen!
Zoe: He told me, Basil, I should live, a great lady, at his castle. And they should kiss my hand and courtesy to me. He meant but jest—I feared.—I feared! But—I loved him!
Basil: Now, my damsel—!
The god was the great god Jove,
Two notes would the bent reed blow,
The one was sorrow, the other love
Enwove with a woman's woe.
Basil: Songs and snakes! Give me instead a Dominican's funeral! I'd as lief crawl bare-kneed to Rome and mouth the Pope's heel. O blessed Turks with their remorseless harems!—Zoe!
[ 36 ]
She lay by the river dead;
And he at feasting forgot.
The gods, shall they be disquieted
By dread of a mortal's lot?
(She wipes her eyes, trembles, looks at him and laughs hysterically.)
Bacchus! my Bacchus! with wet eyes! Up, up, lad! there's many a cup for us yet!
He loved maids, O-o-ay! hei-yo!
The vine! a maiden's breast! etc.
(Hæmon and Bardas look at each other, then start after them terribly moved.)
Curtain.
[ 37 ]
ACT TWO
Scene.—An audience hall in the castle of Charles di Tocca; the next afternoon. The dark stained walls have been festooned with vines and flowers. On the left is the ducal throne. On the right sunlight through high-set windows. In the rear heavily draped doors. Enter Charles, who looks around and smiles with subtle content, then summons a servant.
Enter servant.
(Goes.
Enter Fulvia.
[ 38 ]That seem always in dismal memory
And mist of grief? What means it?
A greedy multitude upon the fields,
Citron and olive were left hungry, so
I quelled them!
To waft me back to childhood. (Taking some.)
Poor pluckt buds
If they could speak like children torn from the breast.
Of doubt.
This Greek—I do not understand.
You have not seen nor spoken to her?
Go. Say that we wait her here,
The lady Helena. (Servant goes.
She's frighted—thinks
'Tmay be her father found too deep a rest
Within our care: yet has a hope that holds
The tears still from her lids. I've smiled on her,
Smiled, Fulvia, and she—Why do you cloud?
You would it were——?
Enter Helena.
Who is as heart and health about our doors,
Has speech for you. And polities
Untended groan for me. (He goes.
You call me so with struggle on your breast?
The world brimmed up with my full happiness.
Yet seem girt by an emptiness that aches,
Surrounds and whispers, what I dare not think
Or, shapened, see.
The morrow's face?
You look at me, as if——?
I in this place? You fear for me?
A dumb dread trembles from you sufferingly.
Ashamed of its too naked idleness.
Beauty is better so.
See a great shadow reach and wrap at me,
Yet lend no light! By gentleness I pray you,
What said he?
Brings age on us!—If not by gentleness,
Then by that love that women bear to men,
By happiness too fleeting to tread earth,
I pray you tell the fear your heart so hides!
Ah, guests are bidden, not commanded.—Where,
Where can Antonio be gone. All day
No token, quieting!
Antonio?—Is it true?
Re-enter Charles.
Has brewed more tears than lies. But, Fulvia,
Why doth it mated with Antonio's name
Wring thus your troubled hands?
No matter—now. (To Helena.) But you, my fair one, put
More merriment upon your lips and lids,
And this (giving pearls) upon the lustre of your throat.
Hither our guests come soon. Be with us then,[ 43 ]
And at your beauty's best. Now; trembling so?—
Yet is the lily lovelier in the wind!
(He looks after, musingly, as she goes.
I think you are. But quench your jests.
And groans? Where borrow them?
Nought could again be well?
Of serpent bitterness——
But for an "if" must pluck it from me?
I must believe.
Now will you have me mouth and foam and thresh
The quiet in me to a maelstrom! This
Is mine, this joy; and still is mine, though I
To keep it must bring on me bitterness
And bleeding and—I rage!
And say no more? No, you are on a flood
Whose sinking may be rapid down to horror.
And she—this girl! It has been long since you
Gave license rein upon your will, and spur.
Do not so now.
And dream and dew: make her not dark!
Friend of my unrepaying years, dream you
I who in empire youth too soon forgot,
Who on my brow surprise the wafted dew,
The presages of age and death, shake not?
White dawn across my turbulence and night,
From license?—Hear me. I have sudden found
A door to let in heaven on my heart.
Had I not laughed to see your dread upon it
Write "license," perilous had been my frown.
The coronet! Her wishes shall be sceptres
Waving a swift fulfilment to her feet!
Her pity shall leave ready graves unfilled,
Her anger open earth for all who offend!
She shall——
Build kingdoms on the wind, and empires on
A girl's ungiven heart?
As mine all things are given.
Her cheeks came hurried roses from her heart.
And her large eyes, did they not drift to mine
Caressing?—yet as if in them they found
The likeness of some visitant dear dream.
She is set in the centre of my need
As youth and fiercest passion could not set her.
Supernally as May she has burst on
My barren age. Pain, envious decay,
And doubt that mystery wounds us with, and wrong,
Flee from the gleam and whisper of her name.
Not with her as might charm of equal years
And beauty?
An avalanche of raging and despair
Out of me! Hope of her once taken, all
The thwarted thunders of my want would rush
Into the void with lightnings for revenge!
Enter Antonio.
Antonio? My eyes had other thought.
Open your news—but mind 'tis not of failure.
And o'er the cliff, as our just law commands,
To death flung them.
More than your mother's gentleness.
My name di Tocca, sir, and not myself.
The cardinal?
Be at our gates.
Perhaps—we shall— (Smiles on them.) Give me that cross you wear,
My Fulvia. It may——
We earnestly beseech of you to hear
The Pope's embassador with yielding.
But you, boy, draw out of this solitude
And musing moodiness. You should think but
On silly sighs and kisses, rhymes and trysts!
Must I yet teach your coldness youth?
(A trumpet, and sound of opening gates.)
Draw out!
Enter Cecco.
And bid our guests. Bring too Diogenes,
Our most amusing raveller of all
Philosophies. Say that the duke, his brother,
Humbly desires it! (Cecco goes.
You start, sir?—Fulvia, we must look to
This callow god our son. Yet, had our court
Two eyes of loveliness to drown his heart,
I'd think on oath 'twere done.
(Goes to the throne.)
Of Helena!
He scorns to spill a drop of confidence
On my too thirsty questions.
Tightly seal up his spirits?
To prison on stale bread, my lord: I half
Believe he's full of treasons.
Because you are the son and scout our foes
Justice is not impossible upon you!
The guests enter, among them Hæmon and Bardas, following the Cardinal Julian and his suite, and last Helena, whom Fulvia leads aside.
We would to-day enlarge our worthiness
With you and with great Rome.
It may be so.
We then do disavow our heresies——
For faith's as air, as ease to life—and seek
At your absolving lips release from our
Rough disobedience. Nor shall we shun
The lash and needed weight of penitence.
(A murmur of approval.)
Who so confesses, plants beneath his foot
A step to scale all impotence and wrong.
Our royal Pope's conditions shall be told,
Pledge them consenting seal and you shall be
Briefly and fully free. (Motions his secretary.)
Di Tocca has offended——"
Be it oblivion's. On, the penalty.
Must pay into our vaults two hundred ducats—"
Armed 'gainst the foes that threaten Italy."
Who's fled her father's house and rightful marriage."
Read on.
Of Italy and Christ's most Holy Church,
He is enjoined to wed with Beatrice
Of Florence. If his wilful boldness grants
Obedience, his sins shall melt to rest
Under the calm of full forgiveness. He——"
I must tear from my happiness a friend
Who fled a father's searing cruelty,
And cast her back in the flames! And I must bind
My crippled years that fare toward the grave
In the cold clasp of an unloving hand!
No! No!
Then, sir, and Cardinal, 'tis not enough!
I pray you swift again to Rome and plead
Most suppliantly that I for penance may
Swear my true son is shame-begot, or lend
My kin to drink clean of its fouling damp
Some pestilent prison! And 'tis impious too[ 55 ]
That any still should trust my love. Beseech
His Holiness' command for death upon them!
The rest is I will wed where I will wed
Though every hill of earth raise up its pope
To bellow at me thunderous damnation!
I will—I will— (Falls back convulsed.)
You shall learn if a change may loose this strain.
(The Cardinal goes with his suite amid timid reverence.)
Thou, Fulvia? 'Twas as a fiend swung on me.
And shame! fear oozes out upon my brow,[ 56 ]
And I——. (Rises and calms himself.) Forgive, friends, this so sudden wrench
Upon your pleasure. One too quick made saint,
Stands feebly: but at once wilt I atone.
Where is Diogenes—where is he? His
Tangled fantastic wisdom shall divert us.
(Diogenes, who has stood unconscious of all that has passed, is pushed forward.)
Leave your unseeing silence now and tell us——
Enter Agabus gazing anxiously and wildly before him.
I followed him—he sped and there was cold![ 57 ]
Behind him blows a horror!
(Stops in fascinated awe before Helena.)
Ah, on her head!
His touch! his earthless finger!—and she rots
To dust! to dust!
That you must wring a woman so with fear?
With the pestilence of evil prophecy.
(To guards.) Forth with him!
Beguile you to some ravening belief.
Wilt go? There is a cave—(taking his hand), we'll curse her—come!
Has no one seen him? none?—the Shadow? none?
(Goes dazed. Guests whisper, awed.
I pray, good-night.
My hospitality is up, you shall not!
Blows us away from mirth, 'tis still in view,
We've lute and dance that yet shall bring us in.
(Cecco goes.
And sinuous as Nile water is their grace.
Enter two Egyptian girls, who dance, then go.
With limbs like swallow wings upon the blue?
Did Cleopatra thus steal Antony?
Wrap him about with motion that would seize[ 60 ]
His senses to an ecstasy? O, oh,
To dance so!
We'll frame a law on thieving of men's heart's!
But shall we woo no boon of mirth save dance?
A lute! a lute! (One is gone for.) Some new lay, Hæmon, come!
And every word must dip its syllables
In Pindar's spring to trip so lightly forth.
Sing us of love
That builds a Paradise of kisses, thinks
The Infinite bound up in an embrace.[ 61 ]
Whose sighs seem to it hurricanes of pain,
Whose tears as seas of molten misery.
Again our timid cheer?
(The lute is offered again.)
I cannot, will not!
I had an honor pluckt to laurel it,
A wreath of noble worth, a thing to tell——
Raised from the dead in me but to fall back
As stone ere it has breathed? Have I so frequent
Drained you? Be slow to tempt me—In me moves
Peril that has a passion to leap forth!
Begins deceit?
On waiting hazard and calamity.
Power and passing of this night is there
Conspiracy?—plot of some here? or of
That One whose necromancy wields the world?
I care not!—I care not! We must have mirth!
Have mirth! though it be laughter at damned souls.
Doting upon dishonor?
Since might is yours, strip from me wealth and life
And more, and all—but let her not, no, no,
Meet here the touch and leprosy of shame!
You shall laugh with me laughter bright as wine.
Of your own fear! and wanders to delusion!
Omnipotence a moment and could dash
Annihilation on you and your race!
(Throws his glove in Antonio's face.)[ 64 ]
And could Omnipotence make such a fool?
There must be two Gods in the world to do it.
(Attempts to kill Helena.)
Be venom for thee! (To soldiers.) Shut him from our gates
Till he repent this fever.
(Hæmon goes quietly out.)[ 65 ]
(To guests who are suspicious and undetermined.) If you stare so
Will the skies stop! Have I not arm in arm
Friended this youth and meant him honor still?
Leave me. I had a thing to tell; but it
Must wait more seasonable festivity.
(To Paula.) See to thy mistress, child. Antonio, stay.
(All go but Antonio and Charles, who leaves his chair slowly and with dejection.)
To bud on my life's withering close?
These angers from your eyes?
To stir—to wake—to learn it is a dream—
I must not, will not look on such abyss.
You love me, boy?
Such night as would put out a heaven of hope,
Quench an eternity of flaming joy!
I have sunk down under the world and hit
On nethermost despair: flown blind across
An infinite unrest!
The crying of my desolation's want.
Within me tenderness to iron turned,
Gladness to worm and gloom.—But 'tis o'erpast.
A rift, a smile, a breath has come—blown me
From torture to an ecstasy.
Such as surrounds Hyperion on his sun,
Or Pleiads sweeping seven-fold the night.
And press your lips from trembling!
This ecstasy?
You feign! distress and groaning tear in you!
All pure with the prime beauty of God's breath,
Was not so!
Who—But you are not well and cannot share
This ravishment!—I will not ask it—now.
This ravishment!—Ah, she has stayed the tread
And stilled the whispering of death: has called
Echoes of youth from me! and all I feared....
I think—you are not well. Shall we go in?
Curtain.
[ 69 ]
ACT THREE
Scene.—The gardens of the castle. Paths meet under a large lime in the centre, where seats are placed. The wall of the garden crosses the rear, and has a postern. It is night of the same day, and behind a convent on a near hill the moon is rising. A nightingale sings.
Enter Giulia, Cecco, and Naldo.
Of gushing. Sing, and sing, sing, sing, it must!
As if nobody else would speak or sleep.
The shrew and nightingale were never friends.
You scratch from me?
To be got from you, then it must be scratched.
Where they can neither coil nor strike?
Begin to coil.
You ere 'tis done.—Give me the postern key.
Give me the key.
Be ready for a strike, my tender shrew.
[ 71 ]Antonio's passion? does he?—ah?—and shall
I tell him? ah?
What's kept so thriftily.
To let in Boro to chuck your baby face
And moon with you! He's been discharged—take care.
His ducats and your own.
And shrews do not scratch serpents? You may spy,
But others are not witless, I can tell you!
(Cecco goes.
Now, Naldo (gives him key and writing), do not lose the writing. But
[ 72 ]Should you, he must not come till two. For 'tis
At twelve the Greek will meet Antonio.
(Naldo goes, through the postern: Giulia to the castle.
Enter Helena and Paula from another part of the gardens.
Would slip less sadly up. She is so pale—
With longing for Endymion her lover.
So sweet to love, my lady? I have heard
Men die and women for it weep themselves
Into the grave—yet gladly.
[ 73 ]To terror! for the edge of fate cares not
How quick it severs.
They told of one who slew herself on her
Dead lover's breast. Would you do so?
Would you, my lady?
My heart is in my lord Antonio's
To beat, Paula, or cease with it.
He far away?
Across all lands the hush of death on him
Would sound to me; and, did he live, denial,
Though every voice and silence spoke it, could
Not reach my rest!—But he is near.
Not yet, my lady.
Has pluckt the minutes' wings and they have crept.
Of holy Basil from their convent peace
Dreamily chant.
The hark of ears! Listen! to me his step
Thrills thro' the earth.
(Antonio approaches and enters the postern.)
'Tis he! Go Paula, go:
But sleep not.
(Paula hastens out.)
(Going to him.) My Antonio, I breathe,
Now no betiding fell athwart thy path
To stay thee from me!
This hour has reached and drawn me yearning to thee! (Takes her in his arms.)
Be more than destiny—which cannot grasp
Beyond the grave.
Fade to a tomb! What dirging hast thou heard
To mind thee of it?
To rest on earth. With it God should give us
Ever to soar above mortality.
But you must know——!
Dimly I see the burden in your eyes,
But dare not take it yet into my own.
Let us a little look upon the moon,
Forgetting. (They seat themselves.)
Your touch falls on them.
You mean—look on me!—mean, your father?—
It must not! must not!
Let him not touch me even in thy thought,
To me come nearer than a father may!
In a fierce spell by your effulgent youth.
But smiled!
In a bare world. And now is flame; would take
Your tenderness into his arms and hear
Seized to him the warm music of your heart.
O, I could be for him—he is my father—
Prometheus stormed and gnawed on Caucasus,
Tantalus ever near the slipping wave,
Or torn and tossed to burning martyrdom—
But not—not this!
Find haven and new nurture for our bliss.
Must starve? Push him who has but learned there's light
Back into yawning blindness? Ah, not flight!
Have been all fatherless, tho' I have made
Me child to every wind that had caress
And to each lonely tree of the deep wood—
Oft envious of those who touch gray hairs,
Or spend desire on filial grief and pang.
And most have you a softness in him kept,
Been to him more than empire's tyranny—
But baffled none can measure him nor trust!
The speed of peril?
Him from this brink.—If vainly, then birth, pity,
And memory shall fall from me!—all, all,
But fierceness for thy peace!
Thine more than immortality is God's!
Hear, does the nightingale not tell it thee?
The stars do they not tremble it, the moon
Murmur it argently into thine eyes?
Abysm from us; but build words to float us
On infinite ecstasy. (Kisses her.)
Sing in me!
Echoes born of thy beauty mid its strings!
Lose no reverberance, no ring, no waft,
Hear nothing everlastingly but them!
(A mournful chant is borne from the Convent. They slowly unclasp, awed.)
[ 80 ]
Moaning the dead.
To-night in all the world. Could God see them
Lie cold and wondrous still, while we are rich
In warmth and throb!
Of the old sea sighs in each strain, and breaks.
It cometh—cometh!
(Her head droops back on his arm. A pause.)
And you are pale as with a prophecy!
Afar and suffering!
Upon a cliff—and beat! Yet thou and I
Had place in it.
The moon has looked too long on the sad earth,
And can reflect but sorrow.
(They go clinging passionately together.
Enter Charles and Cecco.
Just to lie down and sleep. A child may do it.
A quiet powder.
Of peace and should go with it. I have slept
In the wild arms of battle when the winds
Of souls departing fearfully shook by,
And on the breast of dizzy danger cradled
Softly been lulled. Potions should be for them
Who wrestle and are thrown by misery.
For sleep too coldly calm.
I keep your words lest you may need of them—
On the same night young Hæmon's father went
The secret way to death.
That night indeed?
'Scutcheon hung stainless up the purple east?
To this I have not stood in so much calm.
Still was he not in every vein of him,
And breath, a traitor? A Greek who—I'll not say it,
Since she is Greek I must forget the word
Sounds the diapason of perfidy.
Of spial.
It does! Must I—persuade it from your throat?
(Makes to choke him.)
Sung fairy balladry; then riding wild
Nowhither and alone; about the castle
Yearning, yet absent to soft speech and arms!
He'll drink, sir, and not know if it be wine!
His skill and bravery.
A boon of you?
My thought to it. His aspiration flags——
My trust in him is ripe: the fruit of it,
He shall be lord of Arta—total lord.
Sleek questions of a sleeker consequence?
Or—will you?
There is no thorny hint in it to vex you,
To prick your humor—may not he be sick,
Amorous, mellow sick upon some maid?
Is a boy's passion so new under the moon
You gape at it?
Would start up in your words some Titan woe,
No human catapult could war upon!
Some dread colossal doom, frenzied to fall!
Were it he's traitor gnawing at my throne,
Or ready with some potent cruelty
To blight this tenderness new-sprung in me—
I would—even have listened!
(Noise is heard at the postern. It is unlocked. Hæmon enters, and stops in consternation.)
Them to my gems and secrecies? Shall I
Not show their hiding?—rubies, and fair gold?
Have come at midnight—a most honest hour.
Enter this postern—a most honest way,
And seem most honest—Why, I could not, sir!
To loose my sister.
Have loosed her with a piercing—into death?
Since you, not he, are here, my passion melts
Into a plea. Humbly as manhood may—
As ice while soiling flames leap out at her?
And passionless—as one cold in a trance?
Rigid while she in stealth is drugged to shame?
Be voiceless and be vain, unstung, and still?[ 88 ]
I must wait softly while her innocence
Is drained as virgin freshness from the morn?—
Though he were twice Antonio and your son,
An emperor and a god, I would not!
And ever bent upon Antonio?
Be not a torrent, boy, of rush and foam.
Be not, of roar!—Yet—look: Antonio?
You said Antonio?
To say it! He's my son.
You cause—a ground—some reason? Men should when
Suspicions curve their lips.
He is my son. His flesh has memories
That would cry out and curdle him to madness,
Palsy and strangle every pregnant wish,
Or bring in him compassion like a flood.
Enter Paula, hurriedly.
Drop fearful to your knees?
Let me go in!
Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair.
A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek—
Does she rest well?
She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come
To fetch her?
Her kerchief in some nook: you seek it?
Your eyes! your eyes!
Not like them?
You could not see him clearly?
Perchance he too walks in his sleep. Were it
Quite well if they have met—these two that walk?
Still wonderful may lie upon her couch,
One arm dropt whitely. If you prayed for her—
If you should pray for her—Something may chance:
There is so much may chance—we cannot know!
(Paula goes.
(Disturbed.) This child who hath but dwelt about her, touched
And coiled the mystery of her hair, has might
Almost too much!
Were they Antonio's——
"Helena" must you link "Antonio" to it!
Can they not be, yet be apart? Will winds
Not bear them, and not sound them separate![ 92 ]
If angels cry one at the stars will they
But echo back the other?—This is froth—
The froth and fume of folly. You are thick
In falsity, and in disquietude.
Another rapture rules Antonio's eye,
Not Helena.
Her to his arms?
Thus under blind and muddy misbelief!
To mine is she come here. (Terribly.) Were he a seraph,
And did from Paradise desire to fold her—
No mercy!—But, I will speak as a child,
As he who woke with Ruth fair at his feet;
Long have I gleaned amid the years and lone.
She shall glean softly now beside me—softly,
Till sunset fail in me and I am night.
Upon your lips.
Glooms start around me, glooms that seethe and cling.
You stir? you rouse?
'Twill heave unbearably!
Senseless against a bank I found a boy,
Hurled by some ruthless hoof. Near him this key
And writing——
Clandestine of purport, Antonio
And Helena, under these shades at twelve——
But Fulvia, ah, she——
She is aware and aids in his deceit.
This writing says it of her.
No, no!—Though she had sudden whispers for him!
A lie—Yet fast belief fixes its fangs
On me and will not loose me—for against
My hope she set a coldness and a doubt!
O woman woven through all fibres of me!
(Starting up.) But he——!
And pang that answer mine?
You will?—you will?
But fate cried out in me, not any voice.
Not listen! He's not flesh of me—not flesh!
A traitor is no son, nor was nor shall be!
Though it shriek desolation utterly
I will not listen!
He shook, ashen and clenched, remembering
The guilty secret in him!
A rift, a smile, a breath"—men speak so when[ 97 ]
They creep from madness up into some space
Whose element is love.
To a weak palsy—who should o'erwhelm
With penalty!
Was he who's so when most he should be true!
I will make treachery bitter to all time.
Bring dread on all to whom are given sons!
Down generations shall they peer and tremble,
Look on me as on majesties accursed!—
Search every shade—search, search! You stand as death.
I am in famine till he gives me groan!
(They go in opposite directions.
Enter Fulvia, distressed, and Giulia.
Yet passionless?
You not asleep?
Briefly—and then no more?
The Greek is still without?
Answer me, answer! No, go quickly! If
The duke has entered now and sleeps! Or if——!
(Words and swords are heard, then a shriek from Helena. Charles rushes in furious [ 99 ]and wounded in the arm, followed by Helena, Antonio, who is dazed, and from the Castle side by Hæmon, guards, etc.)
Your rage fell on me.
Do you behold him murderous and lay
No hand on him!
About me! Seize him! God forgives not Hell.
Not this blood only but my soul's be on him.
Your voice or eyes or being! They are soft
With perfidy, and stole me to believe
There's sweetness in a flower, light in air,[ 100 ]
And beauty in the innocence of earth.
Bind him! Leucadia's just cliff awaits
All traitors—'tis the law, they must be flung
Out on the dizzy and supportless wind.
Heave out with hate upon me.
And speak to me. Once you were Fulvia—
No more! And once my friend, now but a ghost
Whom I must gaze upon forgetlessly.
Obey, at once! and at to-morrow's sunset!
(Antonio is taken and led out.)
And loves you much!
(To Hæmon.) Lead her away—and quickly,[ 101 ] quickly, quickly! (Hæmon goes with Helena through the postern.
Friends—friends—(unsteadily) I am—quite—friendless now—? (Clutching his wounded arm.) Ah—quite! (He faints.)
Has barred the way of soothing to his breast!
Curtain.
[ 102 ]
ACT FOUR
Scene.—A chamber in the Castle, opening on the right to a hall, curtained on the left from another chamber. In the rear is a window through which may be seen silvery hills of olive resting under the late afternoon sun: by it a shrine. Enter the Captain of the Guard and a Soldier from the Hall.
Under the bold de Montreal, and he
For stratagems—well, Italy knows him!
Of the world!
Antonio has our love.
That has he!
Remember, none be hurt. As for the princess,
We'll hear the chink of ducats with her thanks.
Who robs her rest!
So go, and haste. But fail not.
Bury me with a pagan, next a Turk!
(Goes.
Enter Fulvia.
No way misplanted?
Seasonable for their expected fruit.
The duke himself shall for this deed at last
Have benediction.
Though quicker in forgetting. I will move
Him as I may.
Your words shall make must move him, gracious lady.
Enter Hæmon.
You would seek penitence
Were you less far in folly.
Not here, then——
Not cold defiance.
Where is he?
Under the ruin of her dreams a sister?
Your ruth, and your suspicion that has doomed
One innocent.
Had but betrayal for her!
In you avows it, no true voice.
My father murdered whose last moan I hear
Driven about me in this castle's gray
Cold spaces. And the dead speak not to lie.
The spur of that belief.
Will scent the wounded quarry of your conscience.
And secrecy?
Escape its dread pursuit.
His father's trust!
Have you against its bitter ceaseless tooth,
And that above the wilds of self-deceit.
No refuge can be from an hour that's done.
Shall we invert the glass or tilt the dial
To bring it back?
The duke—I will not bauble.
You set to feed upon me—torturing![ 108 ]
The sun melts to an end, and with the night
Antonio will not be.
And power of this peril you must lean.
But through those curtains, quick. For more seek out
The Captain of the guard. The duke comes hither.
(Hæmon goes through the curtains.
Charles enters, worn, dishevelled, and followed by Cecco. He sees Fulvia and pauses.
With her your mother, 'gainst conception.
A breath again I beg it—for a moment!
Is trust a flower of sudden birth we may
Bid bloom with a command?
Or bloomed as amaranth in those we love,
Beyond all drought and withering of ill!
But hear me——!
Out of this rage?
Still down the vortex of this destiny[ 110 ]
I would not farther have you drawn.
It draw yourself!
Whose treasures have already been engulfed.
She was not mine!—I will not turn.
Your fury that distorts us into guilt.
Although he will not render up his heart,
But flings you stony and unfilial speech,
Fearing for her——
(Fulvia sighs then goes slowly.)
Of hopeless thunders. Lightnings should laugh out
As tongues of fiends. There should be storm.
(His head sinks on his breast.)
(Suddenly.) Yet!—yet!——
Dead in me!
Grown impotent—as 'twere a moment's folly,
A left and quickly quenched desire of youth
Kindled in me!—To youth alone love's sudden.
Am frenzy—frenzy—though the stillness burns
And bursts with it!
(Cecco steps back. A pause.)
Eager to dip.
Bitten by hounds of fury and despair!
[ 113 ]Did you not, Fulvia, pleading for them say
They quailed but would not flee and leave me waste?
Ah, boy! thou ever wast to me as wafts
Of light, of song, of summer on the hills!
Soft now I feel thy baby arms about me,
And all the burgeon of thy youth, ere proud
And cruel years grew in me, comes again
On wings and stealing winds of memory!
He must not—Ah!—down fearful fathoms, down
Into the roar!
(Cecco starts. He stops him.)
Yet he has flung me from
Immeasurable peaks, and I have sunk
Forevermore beneath hope's horizon.
Who falls so close the grave can rise no more.
Forget the girl.
And gloomy pulse beat with a rightful scorn
Against the hours that sieged it. Stony was
Its solitude and fierce, bastioned against
All danger of quick blisses—till, with fury
For that mute tenderness which women's love
Lays on the desolation of the world,
She ravished it!—Yet now 'tis still and cold.
Never was luring, never, but she knew it,
As hawk the cruel rapture of his wings.
The shriving!—Ah, the sun—the sun—where burns it?
It rushes forth.
And then!—Antonio!
Withholds.
Let it swoon down as if its sinking sent
No signal unto Death—and plunge, plunge thee,
Antonio, forever from the day!
Has He no miracle will seize it yet![ 116 ]
Nor will lend now His thunder to cry hold,
His lightning to flame off the hands that grasp,
Bidden to hurl thee o'er!
They lift him, swing him—Now! down, down, down, down!
The rocks! the lash! the foam!
(Sinks exhausted in his chair. Cecco pours out wine.)
Enter hurriedly, a Soldier.
It is ill-timed!
Of hell roar up at me?—It is not strange.
They were else dead to madness.
Your guard beyond the gates.
Of earth and realm unearthly has a cry
Against me and against!
Bitterly done?
Spoke death with them—not reasonless—yet death.
And all the lost have echoes of it: hear
You not a spirit clamor on the air?
Ploughing as storms of pain it passes through me.
Mutiny? Go. I could call chaos fair,
And fawn on infinite ruin—fawn and praise.
(Soldier goes.
Yet will not yield! (To Cecco.) My robes and coronet!
(Cecco goes to obey.
I'll sit in them and mock at greatness that
A passion may unthrone. If we weep not[ 119 ]
Calamity will leave to torture us,
And fate for want of tears will thirst to death!
Enter Cardinal.
I lust for bitterness.
Unwontedly along the waves?
Horrible when a father slays and smiles!
He slays and smileth not.
Enchanting and vain trickery of earth
Till they no longer hope of it, or want.
Smiles should be kept for life's unbearable.
(Goes to shrine and casts it out the window.)
Make every wave a tongue against your rest,
And 'gainst the rock of this impenitence!
(Charles listens as to something afar off.)
No wind should blow that has not sting of it,
No light stream that it stains not![ 121 ]
Your robe, lord prelate—see.
Than frenzy can invoke: a vaster pain
Than justice from Omnipotence may call.
It is my ears' inheritance forever.
Enter Fulvia
In quarrel been struck, and mortally 'tis feared.
Quickly to him: then I may plead of you
Escort to Rome.
With the dear minutes of a dying man.
(Cardinal goes.
I am beat off by it.
Have you held over me.
Whose every moment else had borne a torture.
And melancholy dusk no shadow is
Or niche but may remember prayer for thee.[ 123 ]
Or chase's tired return, often have breathed
The passionate deep hours away in rest
And sympathy.
With quiet clasp of fingers turned apart.
Eternity?
Charles: Ah!
The sea!—Antonio!—The cliff—the surf!
The shroud and funeral fury of the waves!
A rain of ducats if he shall outspeed
This doom on us. More! more! a flood of them,
If he——
'Tis night!
Gone down beyond all mercy and recall.
When first this threshold poured its welcome to me.
No quailing nor a flame of execration!
You do not burst out on me? from me do
Not shrink as from an executioner?
Your strength, in tears depart.
But fear me—fear, and flee?—You shall not go!
To Rome?—I say you shall not.
Antonio, from those curtains come——
You speak not reasonably. Why do you say
"If he should come?"
And led me trembling from reality!
Those curtains?—those?—just those?—You shall not go.
And as an air of resurrection stirs.
Speak; on your words I wait unutterably.
Breathless with eager speech of mutiny——?[ 127 ]
What do I see yet cannot in your words?
Of a son's blood.
Joy come too furious has piercing peril.
He lives?—You have done this? With these soft hands,
These little hands, held off the shears of Fate?
Have dared? and have not feared?
My fear—that, and no more.[ 128 ]
No worth, no gratitude, no gift that may
Answer this deed—no glow, no eloquence
But would ring poor in rarest words of earth.
He lives?—Years yet are mine. Too brief they'll be
To muse with love of this!
In me as if 'twere fast in cerements
That seeing must unbind.
(Antonio steps from the curtains.)
Re-enter Cardinal.
If your decision and desire are still——
(Sees Antonio.)[ 129 ]
(A cry is heard, then weeping.)
Enter Cecco hastily, bearing robe and coronet.
(Sees Antonio. Shrinks from him.)
Her maid?—There are than risen dead worse things
And worse to dread!—her maid?
She direness of her mistress brings? some tale
That earth elsewhere abyssless gaped her up?
That butterfly or bud turn asp to bite her?[ 130 ]
(Cecco goes.
She will but whimper, tell what overmuch
Of grief her mistress makes for you: of tears
Your sunny coming will dry in her.
Hours come not of any good, but are
Infected with resolved adversity.
This dread!——
The shadow of some doom and the dismay.
Re-enter Cecco, with Paula weeping.
Thy mistress?[ 131 ]
I have not been down in the grave, nor ev'n
A moment beyond earth. Do you not hear!
Came quiet, kissed me—O, go seek her, sir!
And darkly cloaked stole out into the night.
Not know: but she——
Antonio's to beat or cease with it."
I learned her words—they seemed so pretty.
(Staggers dizzily, then rushes out.
Us what hath passed—hath passed.
(A Soldier goes.
I cannot bear thy voice upon my heart![ 133 ]
It hath a tone—a clutch—no more, no more!
I cannot bear it! We must wait. No hap
Has been—no hap, I think—surely no hap.
Enter Bardas deprecatingly, followed by Antonio.
This utter superstition! (Pricking his arm.) Is it not blood?
You let her! still devising for yourself
Safety and preservation!
Her being all into one want was fused,
You down the wave to follow.
You held her?
And instant of it drank.
No?—no?—Ah but you dashed it from her lips?
She did but taste?——
That I must wander the cold way of death
Unto his arms? Go hence! There is no rest.
I will go down and clasp him, drift with him
To some unhabited gray ocean vale
God hath forgot. There will we dwell away
From destiny and weeping, from despair!"
Came revellers who saw us—jested her
Of taking a new love. She broke my grasp——
Prevention.
That all thy loveliness should fare to this,
Thy glory go in dark calamity![ 136 ]
Shall see no more.
Her sorrow and her fairness shall not stand
Imprisoned in your eye, tho' 'twere to cry
Relentlessly your crime.—But no—but no!
(Sheathing his sword, he pauses, then staggers suddenly out.)
Forever hath a fluttering, a cry,
Undurably. It presses the lone air
With sensitive and aching agony.
'Twas pretty and 'twas strange, but now I know.
In maiden woe
[ 137 ](Let alone love, it spurns and burns!)
Wept—wept, and leapt—
O love is so!
(Let alone love, it burns!)
(She is led out.)
Enter Agabus gazing into the air.
My king o' the worms and all corruption!—
(Approaching Charles.) Lovers, and lovers! O she leapt as 'twere
To Christ and not sin's Pit! And he is gone
To follow her! The devil's nine wits are
Too many!
(Wanders about.)
[ 138 ]
And bloodlessly you stand! Move, rouse, O breathe!
It is not truth but madness that he speaks.
(A cry and clanking of armor are heard in the Hall. A Soldier bursts into the chamber.)
To pray.
What earth numb and in deadness raves to me.
To tell Antonio hath gone out and o'er
A precipice hath stepped for sake of love.[ 139 ]
This is not tidings—hath it not on me
Been fixed forever? It is older than
Despair, as old as pain! (To Hæmon, who has entered.) Your sister——
Antonio have left us to our tears.
(Hæmon stands motionless.)
Fury on him that groans! (He blindly rocks to and fro.)
(As in a trance.)
There's much to do. We will think of the dead.
Perchance 'twill keep them near us: speak to them,
And they may answer while we wait, may float[ 140 ]
Dim words on moonbeams to us. O for one
That shall sound of forgiveness and of rest!
(More wildly.)
O I have started on the mountain's brow
A tremor that has loosed the avalanche;
And penitence too late—too late—too late—
Was powerless as flowers along its path!
(He sinks back into his chair and stares hopelessly before him.)