_ What should they be who make
Orphans?
Orphans?
Byron
He seems to have begun
life in a blaze of popularity, the admired of all admirers. His wedding
with Lucrezia Contarini (January, 1441) was celebrated with a novel and
peculiar splendour. Gorgeous youths, Companions of the Hose (_della
calza_), in jackets of crimson velvet, with slashed sleeves lined with
squirrel fur, preceded and followed the bridegroom's train. A hundred
bridesmaids accompanied the bride. Her dowry exceeded 16,000 ducats, and
her jewels, which included a necklace worn by a Queen of Cyprus, were
"rich and rare. " And the maiden herself was a pearl of great price. "She
behaved," writes her brother, "and does behave, so well beyond what
could have been looked for. I believe she is inspired by God! "
Jacopo had everything which fortune could bestow, but he lacked a
capacity for right conduct. Four years after his marriage (February 17,
1445) an accusation was laid before the Ten (Romanin, _Storia_, etc. ,
iv. 266) that, contrary to the law embodied in the Ducal _Promissione_,
he had accepted gifts of jewels and money, not only from his
fellow-citizens, but from his country's bitterest enemy, Filippo
Visconti, Duke of Milan. Jacopo fled to Trieste, and in his absence the
Ten, supported by a giunta of ten, on their own authority and
independently of the Doge, sentenced him to perpetual banishment at
Nauplia, in Roumania. One of the three _Capi di' dieci_ was Ermolao (or
_Venetice_ Almoro) Donato, of whom more hereafter. It is to be noted
that this sentence was never carried into effect. At the end of four
months, thanks to the intervention of five members of the Ten, he was
removed from Trieste to Treviso, and, two years later (September 13,
1447), out of consideration to the Doge, who pleaded that the exile of
his only son prevented him from giving his whole heart and soul to the
Republic, permitted to return to Venice. So ends the first chapter of
Jacopo's misadventures. He stands charged with unlawful, if not
criminal, appropriation of gifts and moneys. He had been punished, but
less than he deserved, and, for his father's sake, the sentence of exile
had been altogether remitted.
Three years went by, and once again, January, 1451, a charge was
preferred against Jacopo Foscari, and on this occasion he was arrested
and brought before the Ten. He was accused of being implicated in the
murder of Ermolao Donato, who was assassinated November 5, 1450, on
leaving the Ducal Palace, where he had been attending the Council of the
Pregadi. On the morning after the murder Benedetto Gritti, one of the
"avvogadori di Commun," was at Mestre, some five miles from Venice, and,
happening to accost a servant of Jacopo's who was loading a barge with
wood, asked for the latest news from Venice, and got as answer, "Donato
has been murdered! " The possession of the news some hours before it had
been made public, and the fact that the newsmonger had been haunting
the purlieus of the Ducal Palace on the previous afternoon, enabled the
Ten to convict Jacopo. They alleged (Decree of X. , March 26, 1451) that
other evidence ("_testificationes et scripturae_") was in their
possession, and they pointed to the prisoner's obstinate silence on the
rack--a silence unbroken save by "several incantations and magic words
which fell from him," as a confirmation of his guilt. Moreover, it was
"for the advantage of the State from many points of view" that convicted
and condemned he should be. The question of his innocence or guilt
(complicated by the report or tradition that one Nicolo Erizzo confessed
on his death-bed that he had assassinated Donato for reasons of his own)
is still under discussion. Berlan (_I due Foscari_, etc. , 1852, p. 36)
sums up against him. It may, however, be urged in favour of Jacopo that
the Ten did not produce or quote the _scripturae et testificationes_
which convinced them of his guilt; that they stopped short of the
death-penalty, and pronounced a sentence inadequate to the crime; and,
lastly, that not many years before they had taken into consideration the
possibility and advisability of poisoning Filippo Visconti, an event
which would, no doubt, have been "to the advantage of the State from
many points of view. "
Innocent or guilty, he was sentenced to perpetual banishment to the city
of Candia, on the north coast of the island of Crete; and, guilty or
innocent, Jacopo was not the man to make the best of what remained to
him and submit to fate. Intrigue he must, and, five years later (June,
1456), a report reached Venice that papers had been found in his
possession, some relating to the Duke of Milan, calculated to excite
"nuovi scandali e disordini," and others in cypher, which the Ten
could not read. Over and above these papers there was direct evidence
that Jacopo had written to the _Imperatore dei Turchi_, imploring him to
send his galley and take him away from Candia. Here was a fresh instance
of treachery to the Republic, and, July 21, 1456, Jacopo returned to
Venice under the custody of Lorenzo Loredano.
According to Romanin (_Storia, etc. _, iv. 284), he was not put to the
torture, but confessed his guilt spontaneously, pleading, by way of
excuse, that the letter to the Duke of Milan had been allowed to fall
into the hands of spies, with a view to his being recalled to Venice and
obtaining a glimpse of his parents and family, even at a risk of a fresh
trial. On the other hand, the _Dolfin Cronaca_, the work of a kinsman of
the Foscari, which records Jacopo's fruitless appeal to the sorrowful
but inexorable Doge, and other incidents of a personal nature,
testifies, if not to torture on the rack, "to mutilation by thirty
strokes of the lash. " Be that as it may, he was once more condemned to
lifelong exile, with the additional penalty that he should be imprisoned
for a year. He sailed for Venice July 31, 1456, and died at Candia,
January 12, 1457. Jacopo's misconduct and consequent misfortune
overshadowed the splendour of his father's reign, and, in very truth
"brought his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. "
After his son's death, the aged Doge, now in his eighty-fifth year,
retired to his own apartments, and refused to preside at Councils of
State. The Ten, who in 1446 had yielded to the Doge's plea that a father
fretting for an exiled son could not discharge his public duties, were
instant that he should abdicate the dukedom on the score of decrepitude.
Accounts differ as to the mode in which he received the sentence of
deposition. It is certain that he was compelled to abdicate on Sunday
morning, October 23, 1457, but was allowed a breathing-space of a few
days to make his arrangements for quitting the Ducal Palace.
On Monday, October 24, the Great Council met to elect his successor, and
sat with closed doors till Sunday, October 30.
On Thursday, October 27, Francesco, heedless of a suggestion that he
should avoid the crowd, descended the Giants' Staircase for the last
time, and, says the _Dolfin Cronaca_, "after crossing the courtyard,
went out by the door leading to the prisons, and entered his boat by the
Ponte di Paglia. " "He was dressed," says another chronicle (_August.
Cod. _ I, cl. vii. ), "in a scarlet mantle, from which the fur lining had
been taken," surmounted by a scarlet hood, an old friend which he had
worn when his ducal honours were new, and which he had entrusted to his
wife's care to be preserved for "red" days and festivals of State. "In
his hand he held his staff, as he walked very slowly. His brother Marco
was by his side, behind him were cousins and grandsons . . . and in this
way he went to his own house. "
On Sunday, October 30, Pasquale Malipiero was declared Doge, and two
days after, All Saints' Day, at the first hour of the morning, Francesco
Foscari died. If the interval between ten o'clock on Sunday night and
one o'clock on Tuesday morning disproves the legend that the discrowned
Doge ruptured a blood-vessel at the moment when the bell was tolling for
the election of his successor, the truth remains that, old as he was, he
died of a broken heart.
His predecessor, Tomaso Mocenigo, had prophesied on his death-bed that
if the Venetians were to make Foscari Doge they would forfeit their
"gold and silver, their honour and renown. " "From your position of
lords," said he, "you will sink to that of vassals and servants to men
of arms. " The prophecy was fulfilled. "If we look," writes Mr. H. F.
Brown (_Venice, etc. _, 1893, p. 306), "at the sum-total of Foscari's reign
. . . we find that the Republic had increased her land territory by the
addition of two great provinces, Bergamo and Brescia . . . But the price
had been enormous . . . her debt rose from 6,000,000 to 13,000,000 ducats.
Venetian funds fell to 18-1/2. . . . Externally there was much pomp and
splendour. . . . But underneath this bravery there lurked the official
corruption of the nobles, the suspicion of the Ten, the first signs of
bank failures, the increase in the national debt, the fall in the value
of the funds. Land wars and landed possessions drew the Venetians from
the sea to _terra ferma_. . . . The beginning of the end had arrived. " (See
_Two Doges of Venice_, by Alethea Wiel, 1891; _I due Foscari, Memorie
Storicho Critiche_, di Francesco Berlan, 1852; _Storia Documentata di
Venezia_, di S. Romanin, 1855, vol. iv. ; _Die beiden Foscari_, von
Richard Senger, 1878. For reviews, etc. , of _The Two Foscari, vide
ante_, "Introduction to _Sardanapalus_," p. 5. )
Both Jeffrey in the _Edinburgh_, and Heber in the _Quarterly Review_,
took exception to the character of Jacopo Foscari, in accordance with
the Horatian maxim, "Incredulus odi. " "If," said Jeffrey, "he had been
presented to the audience wearing out his heart in exile, . . . we might
have caught some glimpse of the nature of his motives. " As it is (in
obedience to the "unities") "we first meet with him led from the
'Question,' and afterwards . . . clinging to the dungeon walls of his
native city, and expiring from his dread of leaving them. " The situation
lacks conviction.
"If," argued Heber, "there ever existed in nature a case so
extraordinary as that of a man who gravely preferred tortures and a
dungeon at home, to a temporary residence in a beautiful island and a
fine climate; it is what few can be made to believe, and still fewer to
sympathize with. "
It was, no doubt, with reference to these criticisms that Byron told
Medwin (_Conversations_, 1824, p. 173) that it was no invention of his
that the "young Foscari should have a sickly affection for his native
city. . . . I painted the men as I found them, as they were--not as the
critics would have them. . . . But no painting, however highly coloured,
can give an idea of the intensity of a Venetian's affection for his
native city. "
Goethe, on the other hand, was "not careful" to note these
inconsistencies and perplexities. He thought that the dramatic handling
of _The Two Foscari_ was "worthy of great praise," was "admirable! "
(_Conversations with Goethe_, 1874, p. 265).
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MEN.
FRANCIS FOSCARI, _Doge of Venice_.
JACOPO FOSCARI, _Son of the Doge_.
JAMES LOREDANO, _a Patrician_.
MARCO MEMMO, _a Chief of the Forty_.
BARBARIGO, _a Senator_.
_Other Senators, The Council of Ten, Guards, Attendants, etc. , etc. _
WOMAN.
MARINA, _Wife of young_ FOSCARI.
SCENE--The Ducal Palace, Venice.
THE TWO FOSCARI.
ACT I.
SCENE I. --_A Hall in the Ducal Palace_.
_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO, _meeting_.
_Lor. _ WHERE is the prisoner?
_Bar. _ Reposing from
The Question.
_Lor. _ The hour's past--fixed yesterday
For the resumption of his trial. --Let us
Rejoin our colleagues in the council, and
Urge his recall.
_Bar. _ Nay, let him profit by
A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs;
He was o'erwrought by the Question yesterday,
And may die under it if now repeated. [at][37]
_Lor. _ Well?
_Bar. _ I yield not to you in love of justice,
Or hate of the ambitious Foscari, 10
Father and son, and all their noxious race;
But the poor wretch has suffered beyond Nature's
Most stoical endurance.
_Lor. _ Without owning
His crime?
_Bar. _ Perhaps without committing any.
But he avowed the letter to the Duke
Of Milan, and his sufferings half atone for
Such weakness.
_Lor. _ We shall see.
_Bar. _ You, Loredano,
Pursue hereditary hate too far.
_Lor. _ How far?
_Bar. _ To extermination.
_Lor. _ When they are
Extinct, you may say this. --Let's in to council. 20
_Bar. _ Yet pause--the number of our colleagues is not
Complete yet; two are wanting ere we can
Proceed.
_Lor. _ And the chief judge, the Doge?
_Bar. _ No--he,
With more than Roman fortitude, is ever
First at the board in this unhappy process
Against his last and only son. [38]
_Lor. _ True--true--
His _last_.
_Bar. _ Will nothing move you?
_Lor. _ _Feels he_, think you?
_Bar. _ He shows it not.
_Lor. _ I have marked _that_--the wretch!
_Bar. _ But yesterday, I hear, on his return
To the ducal chambers, as he passed the threshold 30
The old man fainted.
_Lor. _ It begins to work, then.
_Bar. _ The work is half your own.
_Lor. _ And should be _all_ mine--
My father and my uncle are no more.
_Bar. _ I have read their epitaph, which says they died
By poison. [39]
_Lor. _ When the Doge declared that he
Should never deem himself a sovereign till
The death of Peter Loredano, both
The brothers sickened shortly:--he _is_ Sovereign.
_Bar. _ A wretched one.
_Lor.
_ What should they be who make
Orphans?
_Bar. _ But _did_ the Doge make you so?
_Lor. _ Yes. 40
_Bar. _ What solid proofs?
_Lor. _ When Princes set themselves
To work in secret, proofs and process are
Alike made difficult; but I have such
Of the first, as shall make the second needless.
_Bar. _ But you will move by law?
_Lor. _ By all the laws
Which he would leave us.
_Bar. _ They are such in this
Our state as render retribution easier
Than 'mongst remoter nations. Is it true
That you have written in your books of commerce,
(The wealthy practice of our highest nobles) 50
"Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths
Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,
My sire and uncle? "[40]
_Lor. _ It is written thus.
_Bar. _ And will you leave it unerased?
_Lor. _ Till balanced.
_Bar. _ And how?
[_Two Senators pass over the stage, as in their way
to "the Hall of the Council of Ten. "_
_Lor. _ You see the number is complete.
Follow me. [_Exit_ LOREDANO.
_Bar. _ (_solus_). Follow _thee_! I have followed long
Thy path of desolation, as the wave
Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming[au]
The wreck that creaks to the wild winds, and wretch
Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gush 60
The waters through them; but this son and sire
Might move the elements to pause, and yet
Must I on hardily like them--Oh! would
I could as blindly and remorselessly! --
Lo, where he comes! --Be still, my heart! they are
Thy foes, must be thy victims: wilt thou beat
For those who almost broke thee?
_Enter Guards, with young_ FOSCARI _as Prisoner, etc. _
_Guard_. Let him rest.
Signor, take time.
_Jac. Fos. _ I thank thee, friend, I'm feeble;
But thou mayst stand reproved.
_Guard_. I'll stand the hazard.
_Jac. Fos. _ That's kind:--I meet some pity, but no mercy;[av] 70
This is the first.
_Guard_. And might be the last, did they
Who rule behold us.
_Bar. _ (_advancing to the Guard_). There is one who does:
Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge
Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,
Wait their last summons--I am of "the Ten,"[41]
And waiting for that summons, sanction you
Even by my presence: when the last call sounds,
We'll in together. --Look well to the prisoner!
_Jac. Fos. _ What voice is that? --'Tis Barbarigo's! Ah!
Our House's foe, and one of my few judges. 80
_Bar. _ To balance such a foe, if such there be,
Thy father sits amongst thy judges.
_Jac. Fos. _ True,
He judges.
_Bar. _ Then deem not the laws too harsh
Which yield so much indulgence to a sire,
As to allow his voice in such high matter
As the state's safety--
_Jac. Fos. _ And his son's. I'm faint;
Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath
Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.
_Enter an Officer, who whispers_ BARBARIGO.
_Bar. _ (to the Guard). Let him approach. I must not speak with him
Further than thus: I have transgressed my duty 90
In this brief parley, and must now redeem it[aw]
Within the Council Chamber. [_Exit_ BARBARIGO.
[_Guard conducting_ JACOPO FOSCARI _to the window_.
_Guard_. There, sir, 'tis
Open. --How feel you?
_Jac. Fos. _ Like a boy--Oh Venice!
_Guard_. And your limbs?
_Jac. Fos. _ Limbs! how often have they borne me[42]
Bounding o'er yon blue tide, as I have skimmed
The gondola along in childish race,
And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst
My gay competitors, noble as I,
Raced for our pleasure, in the pride of strength;
While the fair populace of crowding beauties, 100
Plebeian as patrician, cheered us on
With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands,
Even to the goal! --How many a time have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring,
The wave all roughened; with a swimmer's stroke
Flinging the billows back from my drenched hair,
And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,
Which kissed it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still 110
The loftier they uplifted me; and oft,
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making
My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen
By those above, till they waxed fearful; then
Returning with my grasp full of such tokens
As showed that I had searched the deep: exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and, drawing deep
The long-suspended breath, again I spurned
The foam which broke around me, and pursued 120
My track like a sea-bird. --I was a boy then.
_Guard_. Be a man now: there never was more need
Of manhood's strength.
_Jac. Fos. _ (_looking from the lattice_). My beautiful, my own,
My only Venice--_this is breath_! Thy breeze,
Thine Adrian sea-breeze, how it fans my face!
Thy very winds feel native to my veins,
And cool them into calmness! How unlike
The hot gales of the horrid Cyclades,
Which howled about my Candiote dungeon,[43] and
Made my heart sick.
_Guard_. I see the colour comes[ax] 130
Back to your cheek: Heaven send you strength to bear
What more may be imposed! --I dread to think on't.
_Jac. Fos. _ They will not banish me again? --No--no,
Let them wring on; I am strong yet.
_Guard_. Confess,
And the rack will be spared you.
_Jac. Fos. _ I confessed
Once--twice before: both times they exiled me.
_Guard_. And the third time will slay you.
_Jac. Fos. _ Let them do so,
So I be buried in my birth-place: better
Be ashes here than aught that lives elsewhere.
_Guard_. And can you so much love the soil which hates you? 140
_Jac. Fos. _ The soil! --Oh no, it is the seed of the soil
Which persecutes me: but my native earth
Will take me as a mother to her arms.
I ask no more than a Venetian grave,
A dungeon, what they will, so it be here.
_Enter an Officer_.
_Offi. _ Bring in the prisoner!
_Guard_. Signor, you hear the order.
_Jac. Fos. _ Aye, I am used to such a summons; 'tis
The third time they have tortured me:--then lend me
Thine arm. [_To the Guard_.
_Offi. _ Take mine, sir; 'tis my duty to
Be nearest to your person.
_Jac. Fos. _ You! --you are he 150
Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs--
Away! --I'll walk alone.
_Offi. _ As you please, Signor;
The sentence was not of my signing, but
I dared not disobey the Council when
They----
_Jac. Fos. _ Bade thee stretch me on their horrid engine.
I pray thee touch me not--that is, just now;
The time will come they will renew that order,
But keep off from me till 'tis issued. As
I look upon thy hands my curdling limbs
Quiver with the anticipated wrenching, 160
And the cold drops strain through my brow, as if----
But onward--I have borne it--I can bear it. --
How looks my father?
_Offi. _ With his wonted aspect.
_Jac. Fos. _ So does the earth, and sky, the blue of Ocean,
The brightness of our city, and her domes,
The mirth of her Piazza--even now
Its merry hum of nations pierces here,
Even here, into these chambers of the unknown
Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumbered
Judged and destroyed in silence,--all things wear 170
The self-same aspect, to my very sire!
Nothing can sympathise with Foscari,
Not even a Foscari. --Sir, I attend you.
[_Exeunt_ JACOPO FOSCARI, _Officer, etc. _
_Enter_ MEMMO _and another Senator_.
_Mem. _ He's gone--we are too late:--think you "the Ten"
Will sit for any length of time to-day?
_Sen. _ They say the prisoner is most obdurate,
Persisting in his first avowal; but
More I know not.
_Mem. _ And that is much; the secrets
Of yon terrific chamber are as hidden
From us, the premier nobles of the state, 180
As from the people.
_Sen. _ Save the wonted rumours,
Which--like the tales of spectres, that are rife
Near ruined buildings--never have been proved,
Nor wholly disbelieved: men know as little
Of the state's real acts as of the grave's
Unfathomed mysteries.
_Mem. _ But with length of time
We gain a step in knowledge, and I look
Forward to be one day of the decemvirs.
_Sen. _ Or Doge?
_Mem. _ Why, no; not if I can avoid it.
_Sen. _ 'Tis the first station of the state, and may 190
Be lawfully desired, and lawfully
Attained by noble aspirants.
_Mem. _ To such
I leave it; though born noble, my ambition
Is limited: I'd rather be an unit
Of an united and Imperial "Ten,"
Than shine a lonely, though a gilded cipher. --
Whom have we here? the wife of Foscari?
_Enter_ MARINA, _with a female Attendant_.
_Mar. _ What, no one? --I am wrong, there still are two;
But they are senators.
_Mem. _ Most noble lady,
Command us.
_Mar. _ _I command_! --Alas! my life 200
Has been one long entreaty, and a vain one.
_Mem. _ I understand thee, but I must not answer.
_Mar. _ (_fiercely_). True--none dare answer here save on the rack,
Or question save those----
_Mem. _ (_interrupting her_). High-born dame! [44] bethink thee
Where thou now art.
_Mar. _ Where I now am! --It was
My husband's father's palace.
_Mem. _ The Duke's palace.
_Mar.
life in a blaze of popularity, the admired of all admirers. His wedding
with Lucrezia Contarini (January, 1441) was celebrated with a novel and
peculiar splendour. Gorgeous youths, Companions of the Hose (_della
calza_), in jackets of crimson velvet, with slashed sleeves lined with
squirrel fur, preceded and followed the bridegroom's train. A hundred
bridesmaids accompanied the bride. Her dowry exceeded 16,000 ducats, and
her jewels, which included a necklace worn by a Queen of Cyprus, were
"rich and rare. " And the maiden herself was a pearl of great price. "She
behaved," writes her brother, "and does behave, so well beyond what
could have been looked for. I believe she is inspired by God! "
Jacopo had everything which fortune could bestow, but he lacked a
capacity for right conduct. Four years after his marriage (February 17,
1445) an accusation was laid before the Ten (Romanin, _Storia_, etc. ,
iv. 266) that, contrary to the law embodied in the Ducal _Promissione_,
he had accepted gifts of jewels and money, not only from his
fellow-citizens, but from his country's bitterest enemy, Filippo
Visconti, Duke of Milan. Jacopo fled to Trieste, and in his absence the
Ten, supported by a giunta of ten, on their own authority and
independently of the Doge, sentenced him to perpetual banishment at
Nauplia, in Roumania. One of the three _Capi di' dieci_ was Ermolao (or
_Venetice_ Almoro) Donato, of whom more hereafter. It is to be noted
that this sentence was never carried into effect. At the end of four
months, thanks to the intervention of five members of the Ten, he was
removed from Trieste to Treviso, and, two years later (September 13,
1447), out of consideration to the Doge, who pleaded that the exile of
his only son prevented him from giving his whole heart and soul to the
Republic, permitted to return to Venice. So ends the first chapter of
Jacopo's misadventures. He stands charged with unlawful, if not
criminal, appropriation of gifts and moneys. He had been punished, but
less than he deserved, and, for his father's sake, the sentence of exile
had been altogether remitted.
Three years went by, and once again, January, 1451, a charge was
preferred against Jacopo Foscari, and on this occasion he was arrested
and brought before the Ten. He was accused of being implicated in the
murder of Ermolao Donato, who was assassinated November 5, 1450, on
leaving the Ducal Palace, where he had been attending the Council of the
Pregadi. On the morning after the murder Benedetto Gritti, one of the
"avvogadori di Commun," was at Mestre, some five miles from Venice, and,
happening to accost a servant of Jacopo's who was loading a barge with
wood, asked for the latest news from Venice, and got as answer, "Donato
has been murdered! " The possession of the news some hours before it had
been made public, and the fact that the newsmonger had been haunting
the purlieus of the Ducal Palace on the previous afternoon, enabled the
Ten to convict Jacopo. They alleged (Decree of X. , March 26, 1451) that
other evidence ("_testificationes et scripturae_") was in their
possession, and they pointed to the prisoner's obstinate silence on the
rack--a silence unbroken save by "several incantations and magic words
which fell from him," as a confirmation of his guilt. Moreover, it was
"for the advantage of the State from many points of view" that convicted
and condemned he should be. The question of his innocence or guilt
(complicated by the report or tradition that one Nicolo Erizzo confessed
on his death-bed that he had assassinated Donato for reasons of his own)
is still under discussion. Berlan (_I due Foscari_, etc. , 1852, p. 36)
sums up against him. It may, however, be urged in favour of Jacopo that
the Ten did not produce or quote the _scripturae et testificationes_
which convinced them of his guilt; that they stopped short of the
death-penalty, and pronounced a sentence inadequate to the crime; and,
lastly, that not many years before they had taken into consideration the
possibility and advisability of poisoning Filippo Visconti, an event
which would, no doubt, have been "to the advantage of the State from
many points of view. "
Innocent or guilty, he was sentenced to perpetual banishment to the city
of Candia, on the north coast of the island of Crete; and, guilty or
innocent, Jacopo was not the man to make the best of what remained to
him and submit to fate. Intrigue he must, and, five years later (June,
1456), a report reached Venice that papers had been found in his
possession, some relating to the Duke of Milan, calculated to excite
"nuovi scandali e disordini," and others in cypher, which the Ten
could not read. Over and above these papers there was direct evidence
that Jacopo had written to the _Imperatore dei Turchi_, imploring him to
send his galley and take him away from Candia. Here was a fresh instance
of treachery to the Republic, and, July 21, 1456, Jacopo returned to
Venice under the custody of Lorenzo Loredano.
According to Romanin (_Storia, etc. _, iv. 284), he was not put to the
torture, but confessed his guilt spontaneously, pleading, by way of
excuse, that the letter to the Duke of Milan had been allowed to fall
into the hands of spies, with a view to his being recalled to Venice and
obtaining a glimpse of his parents and family, even at a risk of a fresh
trial. On the other hand, the _Dolfin Cronaca_, the work of a kinsman of
the Foscari, which records Jacopo's fruitless appeal to the sorrowful
but inexorable Doge, and other incidents of a personal nature,
testifies, if not to torture on the rack, "to mutilation by thirty
strokes of the lash. " Be that as it may, he was once more condemned to
lifelong exile, with the additional penalty that he should be imprisoned
for a year. He sailed for Venice July 31, 1456, and died at Candia,
January 12, 1457. Jacopo's misconduct and consequent misfortune
overshadowed the splendour of his father's reign, and, in very truth
"brought his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. "
After his son's death, the aged Doge, now in his eighty-fifth year,
retired to his own apartments, and refused to preside at Councils of
State. The Ten, who in 1446 had yielded to the Doge's plea that a father
fretting for an exiled son could not discharge his public duties, were
instant that he should abdicate the dukedom on the score of decrepitude.
Accounts differ as to the mode in which he received the sentence of
deposition. It is certain that he was compelled to abdicate on Sunday
morning, October 23, 1457, but was allowed a breathing-space of a few
days to make his arrangements for quitting the Ducal Palace.
On Monday, October 24, the Great Council met to elect his successor, and
sat with closed doors till Sunday, October 30.
On Thursday, October 27, Francesco, heedless of a suggestion that he
should avoid the crowd, descended the Giants' Staircase for the last
time, and, says the _Dolfin Cronaca_, "after crossing the courtyard,
went out by the door leading to the prisons, and entered his boat by the
Ponte di Paglia. " "He was dressed," says another chronicle (_August.
Cod. _ I, cl. vii. ), "in a scarlet mantle, from which the fur lining had
been taken," surmounted by a scarlet hood, an old friend which he had
worn when his ducal honours were new, and which he had entrusted to his
wife's care to be preserved for "red" days and festivals of State. "In
his hand he held his staff, as he walked very slowly. His brother Marco
was by his side, behind him were cousins and grandsons . . . and in this
way he went to his own house. "
On Sunday, October 30, Pasquale Malipiero was declared Doge, and two
days after, All Saints' Day, at the first hour of the morning, Francesco
Foscari died. If the interval between ten o'clock on Sunday night and
one o'clock on Tuesday morning disproves the legend that the discrowned
Doge ruptured a blood-vessel at the moment when the bell was tolling for
the election of his successor, the truth remains that, old as he was, he
died of a broken heart.
His predecessor, Tomaso Mocenigo, had prophesied on his death-bed that
if the Venetians were to make Foscari Doge they would forfeit their
"gold and silver, their honour and renown. " "From your position of
lords," said he, "you will sink to that of vassals and servants to men
of arms. " The prophecy was fulfilled. "If we look," writes Mr. H. F.
Brown (_Venice, etc. _, 1893, p. 306), "at the sum-total of Foscari's reign
. . . we find that the Republic had increased her land territory by the
addition of two great provinces, Bergamo and Brescia . . . But the price
had been enormous . . . her debt rose from 6,000,000 to 13,000,000 ducats.
Venetian funds fell to 18-1/2. . . . Externally there was much pomp and
splendour. . . . But underneath this bravery there lurked the official
corruption of the nobles, the suspicion of the Ten, the first signs of
bank failures, the increase in the national debt, the fall in the value
of the funds. Land wars and landed possessions drew the Venetians from
the sea to _terra ferma_. . . . The beginning of the end had arrived. " (See
_Two Doges of Venice_, by Alethea Wiel, 1891; _I due Foscari, Memorie
Storicho Critiche_, di Francesco Berlan, 1852; _Storia Documentata di
Venezia_, di S. Romanin, 1855, vol. iv. ; _Die beiden Foscari_, von
Richard Senger, 1878. For reviews, etc. , of _The Two Foscari, vide
ante_, "Introduction to _Sardanapalus_," p. 5. )
Both Jeffrey in the _Edinburgh_, and Heber in the _Quarterly Review_,
took exception to the character of Jacopo Foscari, in accordance with
the Horatian maxim, "Incredulus odi. " "If," said Jeffrey, "he had been
presented to the audience wearing out his heart in exile, . . . we might
have caught some glimpse of the nature of his motives. " As it is (in
obedience to the "unities") "we first meet with him led from the
'Question,' and afterwards . . . clinging to the dungeon walls of his
native city, and expiring from his dread of leaving them. " The situation
lacks conviction.
"If," argued Heber, "there ever existed in nature a case so
extraordinary as that of a man who gravely preferred tortures and a
dungeon at home, to a temporary residence in a beautiful island and a
fine climate; it is what few can be made to believe, and still fewer to
sympathize with. "
It was, no doubt, with reference to these criticisms that Byron told
Medwin (_Conversations_, 1824, p. 173) that it was no invention of his
that the "young Foscari should have a sickly affection for his native
city. . . . I painted the men as I found them, as they were--not as the
critics would have them. . . . But no painting, however highly coloured,
can give an idea of the intensity of a Venetian's affection for his
native city. "
Goethe, on the other hand, was "not careful" to note these
inconsistencies and perplexities. He thought that the dramatic handling
of _The Two Foscari_ was "worthy of great praise," was "admirable! "
(_Conversations with Goethe_, 1874, p. 265).
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MEN.
FRANCIS FOSCARI, _Doge of Venice_.
JACOPO FOSCARI, _Son of the Doge_.
JAMES LOREDANO, _a Patrician_.
MARCO MEMMO, _a Chief of the Forty_.
BARBARIGO, _a Senator_.
_Other Senators, The Council of Ten, Guards, Attendants, etc. , etc. _
WOMAN.
MARINA, _Wife of young_ FOSCARI.
SCENE--The Ducal Palace, Venice.
THE TWO FOSCARI.
ACT I.
SCENE I. --_A Hall in the Ducal Palace_.
_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO, _meeting_.
_Lor. _ WHERE is the prisoner?
_Bar. _ Reposing from
The Question.
_Lor. _ The hour's past--fixed yesterday
For the resumption of his trial. --Let us
Rejoin our colleagues in the council, and
Urge his recall.
_Bar. _ Nay, let him profit by
A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs;
He was o'erwrought by the Question yesterday,
And may die under it if now repeated. [at][37]
_Lor. _ Well?
_Bar. _ I yield not to you in love of justice,
Or hate of the ambitious Foscari, 10
Father and son, and all their noxious race;
But the poor wretch has suffered beyond Nature's
Most stoical endurance.
_Lor. _ Without owning
His crime?
_Bar. _ Perhaps without committing any.
But he avowed the letter to the Duke
Of Milan, and his sufferings half atone for
Such weakness.
_Lor. _ We shall see.
_Bar. _ You, Loredano,
Pursue hereditary hate too far.
_Lor. _ How far?
_Bar. _ To extermination.
_Lor. _ When they are
Extinct, you may say this. --Let's in to council. 20
_Bar. _ Yet pause--the number of our colleagues is not
Complete yet; two are wanting ere we can
Proceed.
_Lor. _ And the chief judge, the Doge?
_Bar. _ No--he,
With more than Roman fortitude, is ever
First at the board in this unhappy process
Against his last and only son. [38]
_Lor. _ True--true--
His _last_.
_Bar. _ Will nothing move you?
_Lor. _ _Feels he_, think you?
_Bar. _ He shows it not.
_Lor. _ I have marked _that_--the wretch!
_Bar. _ But yesterday, I hear, on his return
To the ducal chambers, as he passed the threshold 30
The old man fainted.
_Lor. _ It begins to work, then.
_Bar. _ The work is half your own.
_Lor. _ And should be _all_ mine--
My father and my uncle are no more.
_Bar. _ I have read their epitaph, which says they died
By poison. [39]
_Lor. _ When the Doge declared that he
Should never deem himself a sovereign till
The death of Peter Loredano, both
The brothers sickened shortly:--he _is_ Sovereign.
_Bar. _ A wretched one.
_Lor.
_ What should they be who make
Orphans?
_Bar. _ But _did_ the Doge make you so?
_Lor. _ Yes. 40
_Bar. _ What solid proofs?
_Lor. _ When Princes set themselves
To work in secret, proofs and process are
Alike made difficult; but I have such
Of the first, as shall make the second needless.
_Bar. _ But you will move by law?
_Lor. _ By all the laws
Which he would leave us.
_Bar. _ They are such in this
Our state as render retribution easier
Than 'mongst remoter nations. Is it true
That you have written in your books of commerce,
(The wealthy practice of our highest nobles) 50
"Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths
Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,
My sire and uncle? "[40]
_Lor. _ It is written thus.
_Bar. _ And will you leave it unerased?
_Lor. _ Till balanced.
_Bar. _ And how?
[_Two Senators pass over the stage, as in their way
to "the Hall of the Council of Ten. "_
_Lor. _ You see the number is complete.
Follow me. [_Exit_ LOREDANO.
_Bar. _ (_solus_). Follow _thee_! I have followed long
Thy path of desolation, as the wave
Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming[au]
The wreck that creaks to the wild winds, and wretch
Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gush 60
The waters through them; but this son and sire
Might move the elements to pause, and yet
Must I on hardily like them--Oh! would
I could as blindly and remorselessly! --
Lo, where he comes! --Be still, my heart! they are
Thy foes, must be thy victims: wilt thou beat
For those who almost broke thee?
_Enter Guards, with young_ FOSCARI _as Prisoner, etc. _
_Guard_. Let him rest.
Signor, take time.
_Jac. Fos. _ I thank thee, friend, I'm feeble;
But thou mayst stand reproved.
_Guard_. I'll stand the hazard.
_Jac. Fos. _ That's kind:--I meet some pity, but no mercy;[av] 70
This is the first.
_Guard_. And might be the last, did they
Who rule behold us.
_Bar. _ (_advancing to the Guard_). There is one who does:
Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge
Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,
Wait their last summons--I am of "the Ten,"[41]
And waiting for that summons, sanction you
Even by my presence: when the last call sounds,
We'll in together. --Look well to the prisoner!
_Jac. Fos. _ What voice is that? --'Tis Barbarigo's! Ah!
Our House's foe, and one of my few judges. 80
_Bar. _ To balance such a foe, if such there be,
Thy father sits amongst thy judges.
_Jac. Fos. _ True,
He judges.
_Bar. _ Then deem not the laws too harsh
Which yield so much indulgence to a sire,
As to allow his voice in such high matter
As the state's safety--
_Jac. Fos. _ And his son's. I'm faint;
Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath
Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.
_Enter an Officer, who whispers_ BARBARIGO.
_Bar. _ (to the Guard). Let him approach. I must not speak with him
Further than thus: I have transgressed my duty 90
In this brief parley, and must now redeem it[aw]
Within the Council Chamber. [_Exit_ BARBARIGO.
[_Guard conducting_ JACOPO FOSCARI _to the window_.
_Guard_. There, sir, 'tis
Open. --How feel you?
_Jac. Fos. _ Like a boy--Oh Venice!
_Guard_. And your limbs?
_Jac. Fos. _ Limbs! how often have they borne me[42]
Bounding o'er yon blue tide, as I have skimmed
The gondola along in childish race,
And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst
My gay competitors, noble as I,
Raced for our pleasure, in the pride of strength;
While the fair populace of crowding beauties, 100
Plebeian as patrician, cheered us on
With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands,
Even to the goal! --How many a time have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring,
The wave all roughened; with a swimmer's stroke
Flinging the billows back from my drenched hair,
And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,
Which kissed it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still 110
The loftier they uplifted me; and oft,
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making
My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen
By those above, till they waxed fearful; then
Returning with my grasp full of such tokens
As showed that I had searched the deep: exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and, drawing deep
The long-suspended breath, again I spurned
The foam which broke around me, and pursued 120
My track like a sea-bird. --I was a boy then.
_Guard_. Be a man now: there never was more need
Of manhood's strength.
_Jac. Fos. _ (_looking from the lattice_). My beautiful, my own,
My only Venice--_this is breath_! Thy breeze,
Thine Adrian sea-breeze, how it fans my face!
Thy very winds feel native to my veins,
And cool them into calmness! How unlike
The hot gales of the horrid Cyclades,
Which howled about my Candiote dungeon,[43] and
Made my heart sick.
_Guard_. I see the colour comes[ax] 130
Back to your cheek: Heaven send you strength to bear
What more may be imposed! --I dread to think on't.
_Jac. Fos. _ They will not banish me again? --No--no,
Let them wring on; I am strong yet.
_Guard_. Confess,
And the rack will be spared you.
_Jac. Fos. _ I confessed
Once--twice before: both times they exiled me.
_Guard_. And the third time will slay you.
_Jac. Fos. _ Let them do so,
So I be buried in my birth-place: better
Be ashes here than aught that lives elsewhere.
_Guard_. And can you so much love the soil which hates you? 140
_Jac. Fos. _ The soil! --Oh no, it is the seed of the soil
Which persecutes me: but my native earth
Will take me as a mother to her arms.
I ask no more than a Venetian grave,
A dungeon, what they will, so it be here.
_Enter an Officer_.
_Offi. _ Bring in the prisoner!
_Guard_. Signor, you hear the order.
_Jac. Fos. _ Aye, I am used to such a summons; 'tis
The third time they have tortured me:--then lend me
Thine arm. [_To the Guard_.
_Offi. _ Take mine, sir; 'tis my duty to
Be nearest to your person.
_Jac. Fos. _ You! --you are he 150
Who yesterday presided o'er my pangs--
Away! --I'll walk alone.
_Offi. _ As you please, Signor;
The sentence was not of my signing, but
I dared not disobey the Council when
They----
_Jac. Fos. _ Bade thee stretch me on their horrid engine.
I pray thee touch me not--that is, just now;
The time will come they will renew that order,
But keep off from me till 'tis issued. As
I look upon thy hands my curdling limbs
Quiver with the anticipated wrenching, 160
And the cold drops strain through my brow, as if----
But onward--I have borne it--I can bear it. --
How looks my father?
_Offi. _ With his wonted aspect.
_Jac. Fos. _ So does the earth, and sky, the blue of Ocean,
The brightness of our city, and her domes,
The mirth of her Piazza--even now
Its merry hum of nations pierces here,
Even here, into these chambers of the unknown
Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumbered
Judged and destroyed in silence,--all things wear 170
The self-same aspect, to my very sire!
Nothing can sympathise with Foscari,
Not even a Foscari. --Sir, I attend you.
[_Exeunt_ JACOPO FOSCARI, _Officer, etc. _
_Enter_ MEMMO _and another Senator_.
_Mem. _ He's gone--we are too late:--think you "the Ten"
Will sit for any length of time to-day?
_Sen. _ They say the prisoner is most obdurate,
Persisting in his first avowal; but
More I know not.
_Mem. _ And that is much; the secrets
Of yon terrific chamber are as hidden
From us, the premier nobles of the state, 180
As from the people.
_Sen. _ Save the wonted rumours,
Which--like the tales of spectres, that are rife
Near ruined buildings--never have been proved,
Nor wholly disbelieved: men know as little
Of the state's real acts as of the grave's
Unfathomed mysteries.
_Mem. _ But with length of time
We gain a step in knowledge, and I look
Forward to be one day of the decemvirs.
_Sen. _ Or Doge?
_Mem. _ Why, no; not if I can avoid it.
_Sen. _ 'Tis the first station of the state, and may 190
Be lawfully desired, and lawfully
Attained by noble aspirants.
_Mem. _ To such
I leave it; though born noble, my ambition
Is limited: I'd rather be an unit
Of an united and Imperial "Ten,"
Than shine a lonely, though a gilded cipher. --
Whom have we here? the wife of Foscari?
_Enter_ MARINA, _with a female Attendant_.
_Mar. _ What, no one? --I am wrong, there still are two;
But they are senators.
_Mem. _ Most noble lady,
Command us.
_Mar. _ _I command_! --Alas! my life 200
Has been one long entreaty, and a vain one.
_Mem. _ I understand thee, but I must not answer.
_Mar. _ (_fiercely_). True--none dare answer here save on the rack,
Or question save those----
_Mem. _ (_interrupting her_). High-born dame! [44] bethink thee
Where thou now art.
_Mar. _ Where I now am! --It was
My husband's father's palace.
_Mem. _ The Duke's palace.
_Mar.
