No More Learning

By heavens,
'twas not a madman's speech! I have sworn an oath, and till Doria lie in
the agonies of death I will show no mercy to my child. No--not though,
like an executioner, I should invent unheard-of torments for her, or with
my own hands rend her innocent frame piecemeal on the barbarous rack.
You shudder--you stare at me with ghastly faces. Once more, Scipio--I
keep her as a hostage for the tyrant's death. Upon this precious thread
do I suspend thy duty, my own, and yours (to SACCO and CALCAGNO). The
tyrant of Genoa falls, or Bertha must despair--I retract not.

BOURGOGNINO (throwing himself at BERTHA'S feet). He shall fall--shall
fall a victim to Genoa. I will as surely sheathe this sword in Doria's
heart as upon thy lips I will imprint the bridal kiss. (Rises. )

VERRINA. Ye couple, the first that ever owed their union to the Furies,
join hands! Thou wilt sheathe thy sword in Doria's heart? Take her! she
is thine!

CALCAGNO (kneeling). Here kneels another citizen of Genoa and lays his
faithful sword before the feet of innocence. As surely may Calcagno find
the way to heaven as this steel shall find its way to Gianettino's heart!
(Rises. )

SACCO (kneeling). Last, but not less determined, Raffaelle Sacco kneels.
If this bright steel unlock not the prison doors of Bertha, mayest thou,
my Saviour, shut thine ear against my dying prayers! (Rises. )

VERRINA (with a calm look). Through me Genoa thanks you. Now go, my
daughter; rejoice to be the mighty sacrifice for thy country!

BOURGOGNINO (embracing her as she is departing). Go! confide in God--and
Bourgognino. The same day shall give freedom to Bertha and to Genoa.

[BERTHA retires.



SCENE XIII.

The former--without BERTHA.

CALCAGNO. Genoese, before we take another step, one word----

VERRINA. I guess what you would say.

CALCAGNO. Will four patriots alone be sufficient to destroy this mighty
hydra? Shall we not stir up the people to rebellion, or draw the nobles
in to join our party?

VERRINA. I understand you. Now hear my advice; I have long engaged a
painter who has been exerting all his skill to paint the fall of Appius
Claudius. Fiesco is an adorer of the arts, and soon warmed by ennobling
scenes. We will send this picture to his house, and will be present when
he contemplates it. Perhaps the sight may rouse his dormant spirit.
Perhaps----

BOURGOGNINO. No more of him. Increase the danger, not the sharers in
it. So valor bids. Long have I felt a something within my breast that
nothing would appease. What 'twas now bursts upon me (springing up with
enthusiasm); 'twas a tyrant!

[The scene closes.




ACT II.

SCENE I. --An Ante-chamber in the Palace of FIESCO.

LEONORA and ARABELLA.

ARABELLA. No, no, you were mistaken: your eyes were blinded by jealousy.

LEONORA. It was Julia to the life. Seek not to persuade me otherwise.
My picture was suspended by a sky-blue ribbon: this was flame-colored.
My doom is fixed irrevocably.



SCENE II.

The former and JULIA.

JULIA (entering in an affected manner). The Count offered me his palace
to see the procession to the senate-house. The time will be tedious.
You will entertain me, madam, while the chocolate is preparing.

[ARABELLA goes out, and returns soon afterwards.

LEONORA. Do you wish that I should invite company to meet you?

JULIA. Ridiculous! As if I should come hither in search of company.
You will amuse me, madam (walking up and down, and admiring herself ), if
you are able, madam. At any rate I shall lose nothing.

ARABELLA (sarcastically). Your splendid dress alone will be the loser.
Only think how cruel it is to deprive the eager eyes of our young beaux
of such a treat! Ah! and the glitter of your sparkling jewels on which
it almost wounds the sight to look. Good heavens! You seem to have
plundered the whole ocean of its pearls.

JULIA (before a glass). You are not accustomed to such things, miss!
But hark ye, miss! pray has your mistress also hired your tongue? Madam,
'tis fine, indeed, to permit your domestics thus to address your guests.

LEONORA. 'Tis my misfortune, signora, that my want of spirits prevents
me from enjoying the pleasure of your company.

JULIA. An ugly fault that, to be dull and spiritless. Be active,
sprightly, witty! Yours is not the way to attach your husband to you.

LEONORA. I know but one way, Countess. Let yours ever be the
sympathetic medium.

JULIA (pretending not to mind her). How you dress, madam! For shame!
Pay more attention to your personal appearance! Have recourse to art
where nature has been unkind. Put a little paint on those cheeks, which
look so pale with spleen. Poor creature! Your puny face will never find
a bidder.

LEONORA (in a lively manner to ARABELLA). Congratulate me, girl. It is
impossible I can have lost my Fiesco; or, if I have, the loss must be but
trifling. (The chocolate is brought, ARABELLA pours it out. )

JULIA. Do you talk of losing Fiesco? Good God! How could you ever
conceive the ambitious idea of possessing him? Why, my child, aspire to
such a height? A height where you cannot but be seen, and must come into
comparison with others. Indeed, my dear, he was a knave or a fool who
joined you with FIESCO. (Taking her hand with a look of compassion. )
Poor soul! The man who is received in the assemblies of fashionable life
could never be a suitable match for you. (She takes a dish of
chocolate. )

LEONORA (smiling at ARABELLA). If he were, he would not wish to mix with
such assemblies.

JULIA. The Count is handsome, fashionable, elegant. He is so fortunate
as to have formed connections with people of rank. He is lively and
high-spirited. Now, when he severs himself from these circles of
elegance and refinement, and returns home warm with their impressions,
what does he meet? His wife receives him with a commonplace tenderness;
damps his fire with an insipid, chilling kiss, and measures out her
attentions to him with a niggardly economy. Poor husband! Here, a
blooming beauty smiles upon him--there he is nauseated by a peevish
sensibility. Signora, signora, for God's sake consider, if he have not
lost his understanding, which will he choose?

LEONORA (offering her a cup of chocolate). You, madam--if he have
lost it.

JULIA. Good! This sting shall return into your own bosom. Tremble for
your mockery! But before you tremble--blush!

LEONORA. Do you then know what it is to blush, signora? But why not?
'Tis a toilet trick.

JULIA. Oh, see! This poor creature must be provoked if one would draw
from her a spark of wit. Well--let it pass this time. Madam, you were
bitter. Give me your hand in token of reconciliation.

LEONORA (offering her hand with a significant look). Countess, my anger
ne'er shall trouble you.

JULIA (offering her hand). Generous, indeed! Yet may I not be so, too?
(Maliciously. ) Countess, do you not think I must love that person whose
image I bear constantly about me?

LEONORA (blushing and confused). What do you say? Let me hope the
conclusion is too hasty.

JULIA. I think so, too. The heart waits not the guidance of the senses
--real sentiment needs no breastwork of outward ornament.

LEONORA. Heavens! Where did you learn such a truth?

JULIA. 'Twas in mere compassion that I spoke it; for observe, madam, the
reverse is no less certain. Such is Fiesco's love for you. (Gives her
the picture, laughing maliciously. )

LEONORA (with extreme indignation). My picture! Given to you! (Throws
herself into a chair, much affected. ) Cruel, Fiesco!

JULIA. Have I retaliated? Have I? Now, madam, have you any other sting
to wound me with? (Goes to side scene. ) My carriage! My object is
gained. (To LEONORA, patting her cheek. ) Be comforted, my dear; he gave
me the picture in a fit of madness.

[Exeunt JULIA and ARABELLA.



SCENE III.

LEONORA, CALCAGNO entering.

CALCAGNO. Did not the Countess Imperiali depart in anger? You, too, so
excited, madam?

LEONORA (violently agitated. ) No! This is unheard-of cruelty.

CALCAGNO. Heaven and earth! Do I behold you in tears?

LEONORA. Thou art a friend of my inhuman--Away, leave my sight!

CALCAGNO. Whom do you call inhuman?
You affright me----

LEONORA. My husband. Is he not so?

CALCAGNO. What do I hear!

LEONORA. 'Tis but a piece of villany common enough among your sex!

CALCAGNO (grasping her hand with vehemence). Lady, I have a heart for
weeping virtue.

LEONORA. You are a man--your heart is not for me.

CALCAGNO. For you alone--yours only. Would that you knew how much, how
truly yours----

LEONORA. Man, thou art untrue. Thy words would be refuted by thy
actions----

CALCAGNO. I swear to you----

LEONORA. A false oath. Cease! The perjuries of men are so innumerable
'twould tire the pen of the recording angel to write them down. If their
violated oaths were turned into as many devils they might storm heaven
itself, and lead away the angels of light as captives.

CALCAGNO. Nay, madam, your anger makes you unjust. Is the whole sex to
answer for the crime of one?

LEONORA. I tell thee in that one was centred all my affection for the
sex. In him I will detest them all.

CALCAGNO. Countess,--you once bestowed your hand amiss. Would you again
make trial, I know one who would deserve it better.

LEONORA. The limits of creation cannot bound your falsehoods. I'll hear
no more.

CALCAGNO. Oh, that you would retract this cruel sentence in my arms!

LEONORA (with astonishment). Speak out. In thy arms!

CALCAGNO. In my arms, which open themselves to receive a forsaken woman,
and to console her for the love she has lost.

LEONORA (fixing her eyes on him). Love?

CALCAGNO (kneeling before her with ardor). Yes, I have said it. Love,
madam! Life and death hang on your tongue. If my passion be criminal
then let the extremes of virtue and vice unite, and heaven and hell be
joined together in one perdition.

LEONORA (steps back indignantly, with a look of noble disdain). Ha!
Hypocrite! Was that the object of thy false compassion? This attitude
at once proclaims thee a traitor to friendship and to love. Begone
forever from my eyes! Detested sex! Till now I thought the only victim
of your snares was woman; nor ever suspected that to each other you were
so false and faithless.

CALCAGNO (rising, confounded). Countess!

LEONORA. Was it not enough to break the sacred seal of confidence? but
even on the unsullied mirror of virtue does this hypocrite breathe
pestilence, and would seduce my innocence to perjury.

CALCAGNO (hastily). Perjury, madam, you cannot be guilty of.

LEONORA. I understand thee--thou thoughtest my wounded pride would plead
in thy behalf. (With dignity). Thou didst not know that she who loves
Fiesco feels even the pang that rends her heart ennobling. Begone!
Fiesco's perfidy will not make Calcagno rise in my esteem--but--will
lower humanity. [Exit hastily.

CALCAGNO (stands as if thunderstruck, looks after her, then striking his
forehead). Fool that I am. [Exit.



SCENE IV.

The MOOR and FIESCO.

FIESCO. Who was it that just now departed?

MOOR. The Marquis Calcagno.

FIESCO. This handkerchief was left upon the sofa. My wife has been
here.

MOOR. I met her this moment in great agitation.

FIESCO. This handkerchief is moist (puts it in his pocket). Calcagno
here? And Leonora agitated? This evening thou must learn what has
happened.

MOOR. Miss Bella likes to hear that she is fair. She will inform me.

FIESCO. Well--thirty hours are past. Hast thou executed my commission?

MOOR. To the letter, my lord.

FIESCO (seating himself). Then tell me how they talk of Doria, and of
the government.

MOOR. Oh, most vilely. The very name of Doria shakes them like an
ague-fit. Gianettino is as hateful to them as death itself--there's
naught but murmuring. They say the French have been the rats of Genoa,
the cat Doria has devoured them, and now is going to feast upon the mice.

FIESCO. That may perhaps be true. But do they not know of any dog
against that cat?

MOOR (with an affected carelessness). The town was murmuring much of a
certain--poh--why, I have actually forgotten the name.

FIESCO (rising). Blockhead! That name is as easy to be remembered as
'twas difficult to achieve. Has Genoa more such names than one?

MOOR. No--it cannot have two Counts of Lavagna.

FIESCO (seating himself). That is something. And what do they whisper
about my gayeties?

MOOR (fixing his eyes upon him). Hear me, Count of Lavagna! Genoa must
think highly of you. They can not imagine why a descendant of the first
family--with such talents and genius--full of spirit and popularity--
master of four millions--his veins enriched with princely blood--a
nobleman like Fiesco, whom, at the first call, all hearts would fly to
meet----

FIESCO (turns away contemptuously). To hear such things from such a
scoundrel!

MOOR. Many lamented that the chief of Genoa should slumber over the ruin
of his country. And many sneered. Most men condemned you. All bewailed
the state which thus had lost you. A Jesuit pretended to have smelt out
the fox that lay disguised in sheep's clothing.

FIESCO. One fox smells out another. What say they to my passion for the
Countess Imperiali?

MOOR. What I would rather be excused from repeating.

FIESCO. Out with it--the bolder the more welcome. What are their
murmurings?

MOOR. 'Tis not a murmur. At all the coffee-houses, billiard-tables,
hotels, and public walks--in the market-place, at the Exchange, they
proclaim aloud----

FIESCO. What? I command thee!

MOOR (retreating). That you are a fool!

FIESCO. Well, take this sequin for these tidings. Now have I put on a
fool's cap that these Genoese may have wherewith to rack their wits.
Next I will shave my head, that they may play Merry Andrew to my Clown.
How did the manufacturers receive my presents?

MOOR (humorously). Why, Mr. Fool, they looked like poor knaves----

FIESCO. Fool? Fellow, art thou mad?

MOOR. Pardon! I had a mind for a few more sequins.

FIESCO (laughing, gives him another sequin). Well. "Like poor knaves. "

MOOR. Who receive pardon at the very block. They are yours both soul
and body.

FIESCO. I'm glad of it. They turn the scale among the populace of
Genoa.

MOOR. What a scene it was! Zounds! I almost acquired a relish for
benevolence. They caught me round the neck like madmen. The very girls
seemed in love with my black visage, that's as ill-omened as the moon in
an eclipse. Gold, thought I, is omnipotent: it makes even a Moor look
fair.

FIESCO. That thought was better than the soil which gave it birth.
These words are favorable; but do they bespeak actions of equal import?

MOOR. Yes--as the murmuring of the distant thunder foretells the
approaching storm. The people lay their heads together--they collect in
parties--break off their talk whenever a stranger passes by. Throughout
Genoa reigns a gloomy silence. This discontent hangs like a threatening
tempest over the republic. Come, wind, then hail and lightning will
burst forth.

FIESCO. Hush! --hark! What is that confused noise?

MOOR (going to the window). It is the tumult of the crowd returning from
the senate-house.

FIESCO. To-day is the election of a procurator. Order my carriage! It
is impossible that the sitting should be over. I'll go thither. It is
impossible it should be over if things went right. Bring me my sword and
cloak--where is my golden chain?

MOOR. Sir, I have stolen and pawned it.

FIESCO. That I am glad to hear.

MOOR. But, how! Are there no more sequins for me?