No More Learning

'Tis well--at noon to-morrow. Goodnight, Fiesco! Come,
Bourgognino, you will hear something marvellous.

[Exeunt VERRINA and BOURGOGNINO.

FIESCO (to the others). Depart by the back gates, that Doria's spies may
not suspect us.

[Exeunt SACCO and CALCAGNO.



SCENE XIX. FIESCO, alone.

FIESCO (walking up and down in meditation). What a tumult is in my
breast! What a concourse of dark, uncertain images! Like guilty
wretches stealing out in secret to do some horrid deed, with trembling
steps and blushing faces bent toward the ground, these flattering
phantoms glide athwart my soul. Stay! stay! --let me examine you more
closely. A virtuous thought strengthens the heart of man, and boldly
meets the day. Ha! I know you--robed in the livery of Satan--avaunt!
(A pause; he continues with energy. ) Fiesco, the patriot! the Duke
Fiesco! Peace! On this steep precipice the boundaries of virtue
terminate: here heaven and hell are separated. Here have heroes
stumbled, here have they fallen, and left behind a name loaded with
curses--here, too, have heroes paused, here checked their course, and
risen to immortality. (More vehemently. ) To know the hearts of Genoa
mine! To govern with a master's hand this formidable state! Oh,
artifice of sin, that masks each devil with an angel's face! Fatal
ambition! Everlasting tempter! Won by thy charms, angels abandoned
heaven, and death sprung from thy embraces. (Shuddering. ) Thy syren
voice drew angels from their celestial mansions--man thou ensnarest with
beauty, riches, power. (After a pause, in a firm tone. ) To gain a
diadem is great--to reject it is divine! (Resolutely. ) Perish the
tyrant! Let Genoa be free--and I (much affected) will be its happiest
citizen.




ACT III.

SCENE I. --Midnight. A dreary wilderness.

VERRINA and BOURGOGNINO entering.

BOURGOGNINO (stands still). Whither are you leading me, father. The
heavy grief that hung upon your brow when first you bade me follow you
still seems to labor in your panting breast. Break this dreadful
silence! Speak. I will go no further.

VERRINA. This is the place.

BOURGOGNINO. You could not choose a spot more awful. Father, if the
deed you purpose be like the place--father--my hair will stand on end
with horror.

VERRINA. And yet 'tis cheerfulness itself to the gloom that enwraps my
soul. Follow me to yon churchyard, where corruption preys on the
mouldering remnants of mortality, and death holds his fearful banquet--
where shrieks of damned souls delight the listening fiends, and sorrow
weeps her fruitless tears into the never-filling urn. Follow me, my son,
to where the condition of this world is changed; and God throws off his
attributes of mercy--there will I speak to thee in agony, and thou shalt
hear with despair.

BOURGOGNINO. Hear! what? I conjure you, father.

VERRINA. Youth! I fear. Youth, thy blood is warm and crimson--thy
heart is soft and tender--such natures are alive to human kindness--this
warmth of feeling melts my obdurate wisdom. If the frost of age or
sorrow's leaden pressure had chilled the springtide vigor of thy spirits
--if black congealed blood had closed the avenues of thy heart against
the approaches of humanity--then would thy mind be attuned to the
language of my grief, and thou wouldst look with admiration on my
project.

BOURGOGNINO. I will hear it, and embrace it as my own.

VERRINA. Not so, my son--Verrina will not wound thy heart with it. O
Scipio, heavy burdens lie on me. A thought more dark and horrible than
night, too vast to be contained within the breast of man! Mark me--my
hand alone shall execute the deed; but my mind cannot alone support the
weight of it. If I were proud, Scipio, I might say greatness unshared is
torture. It was a burden to the Deity himself, and he created angels to
partake his counsels. Hear, Scipio!

BOURGOGNINO. My soul devours thy words.

VERRINA. Hear! But answer nothing--nothing, young man! Observe me--not
a word--Fiesco must die.

BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). Die! Fiesco!

VERRINA. Die--I thank thee, God, 'tis out at last--Fiesco must die. My
son--die by my hand. Now, go. There are deeds too high for human
judgment. They appeal alone to heaven's tribunal. Such a one is this.
Go! I neither ask thy blame nor approbation. I know my inward
struggles, and that's enough. But hear! These thoughts might weary out
thy mind even to madness. Hear! Didst thou observe yesterday with what
pride he viewed his greatness reflected from our wondering countenances?
The man whose smiles deceived all Italy, will he endure equals in Genoa?
Go! 'Tis certain that Fiesco will overthrow the tyrant. 'Tis as certain
he will become a tyrant still more dangerous.

[Exit hastily. BOURGOGNINO looks after him with speechless
surprise, then follows slowly.



SCENE II. --An apartment in FIESCO'S house. In the middle of the back
scene a glass door, through which is seen a view of the sea and Genoa.
Daybreak.

FIESCO at the window.

FIESCO. What do I see! The moon hath hid its face. The morn is rising
fiery from the sea. Wild fancies have beset my sleep, and kept my soul
convulsed by one idea. Let me inhale the pure, refreshing breeze. (He
opens a window; the city and ocean appear red with the tint of morning.
FIESCO walking up and down the room with energy. ) I the greatest man in
Genoa! And should not lesser souls bow down before the greater? But is
not this to trample upon virtue? (Musing. ) Virtue? The elevated mind
is exposed to other than ordinary temptations--shall it then be governed
by the ordinary rules of virtue? Is the armor which encases the pigmy's
feeble frame suited to the giant? (The sun rises over Genoa. ) This
majestic city mine! (Spreading out his arms as if to embrace it. ) To
flame above it like the god of day! To rule over it with a monarch mind!
To hold in subjection all the raging passions, all the insatiable desires
in this fathomless ocean! 'Tis certain, though the cunning of the thief
ennoble not the theft, yet doth the prize ennoble the thief. It is base
to filch a purse--daring to embezzle a million,--but it is immeasurably
great to steal a diadem. As guilt extends its sphere, the infamy
decreaseth. (A pause, then with energy. ) To obey! or to command! A
fearful dizzying gulf--that absorbs whate'er is precious in the eyes of
men. The trophies of the conqueror--the immortal works of science and of
art--the voluptuous pleasures of the epicure--the whole wealth
encompassed by the seas. To obey! or to command! To be, or not to be!
The space between is as wide as from the lowest depths of hell to the
throne of the Almighty. (In an elevated tone. ) From that awful height
to look down securely upon the impetuous whirlpool of mankind, where
blind fortune holds capricious sway! To quaff at the fountainhead
unlimited draughts from the rich cup of pleasure! To hold that armed
giant law beneath my feet in leading-strings, and see it struggle with
fruitless efforts against the sacred power of majesty! To tame the
stubborn passions of the people, and curb them with a playful rein, as a
skilful horseman guides the fiery steed! With a breath--one single
breath--to quell the rising pride of vassals, whilst the prince, with the
motion of his sceptre, can embody even his wildest dreams of fancy! Ah!
What thoughts are these which transport the astounded mind beyond its
boundaries! Prince! To be for one moment prince comprises the essence
of a whole existence. 'Tis not the mere stage of life--but the part we
play on it that gives the value. The murmurs which compose the thunder's
roar might singly lull an infant to repose--but united their crash can
shake the eternal vault of heaven. I am resolved. (Walking up and down
majestically. )



SCENE III.

FIESCO; LEONORA, entering with a look of anxiety.

LEONORA. Pardon me, count. I fear I interrupt your morning rest.

FIESCO (steps back with astonishment). Indeed, madam, you do surprise me
not a little.

LEONORA. That never happens to those who love.

FIESCO. Charming countess, you expose your beauty to the rude breath of
morning.

LEONORA. I know not why I should preserve its small remains for grief to
feed on.

FIESCO. Grief, my love? I thought that to be free from cares of state
was happiness.

LEONORA. It may be so. Yet do I feel that my weak heart is breaking
amidst this happiness. I come, sir, to trouble you with a trifling
request, if you can spare a moment's time to hear me. These seven months
past I have indulged the pleasing dream of being Countess of Lavagna. It
now has passed away and left a painful weight upon my mind. Amid the
pleasures of my innocent childhood I must seek relief to my disordered
spirits. Permit me, therefore, to return to the arms of my beloved
mother----

FIESCO (with astonishment). Countess!

LEONORA. My heart is a poor trembling thing which you should pity. Even
the least remembrance of my visionary joy might wound my sickly fancy. I
therefore restore the last memorials of your kindness to their rightful
owner. (She lays some trinkets on the table. ) This, too, that like a
dagger struck my heart (presenting a letter). This, too (going to rush
out of the door in tears), and I will retain nothing but the wound.

FIESCO (agitated, hastens after and detains her). Leonora! For God's
sake, stay!

LEONORA (falls into his arms exhausted). To be your wife was more than I
deserved. But she who was your wife deserved at least respect. How
bitter is the tongue of calumny. How the wives and maidens of Genoa now
look down upon me! "See," they say, "how droops the haughty one whose
vanity aspired to Fiesco!
" Cruel punishment of my pride! I triumphed
over my whole sex when Fiesco led me to the altar----

FIESCO. Really, Madonna! All this is most surprising----

LEONORA (aside). Ah! he changes color--now I revive.

FIESCO. Wait only two days, countess--then judge my conduct----

LEONORA. To be sacrificed! Let me not speak it in thy chaste presence,
oh, thou virgin day! To be sacrificed to a shameless wanton! Look on
me, my husband! Ah, surely those eyes that make all Genoa tremble, must
hide themselves before a weeping woman----

FIESCO (extremely confused). No more, signora! No more----

LEONORA (with a melancholy look of reproach). To rend the heart of a
poor helpless woman! Oh, it is so worthy of the manly sex. Into his
arms I threw myself, and on his strength confidingly reposed my feminine
weakness. To him I trusted the heaven of my hopes. The generous man
bestowed it on a----

FIESCO (interrupting her, with vehemence). No, my Leonora! No!

LEONORA. My Leonora! Heaven, I thank thee! These were the angelic
sounds of love once more. I ought to hate thee, faithless man! And yet
I fondly grasp the shadow of thy tenderness. Hate! said I? Hate Fiesco?
Oh, believe it not! Thy perfidy may bid me die, but cannot bid me hate
thee. I did not know my heart----(The MOOR is heard approaching. )

FIESCO. Leonora! grant me one trifling favor.

LEONORA. Everything, Fiesco--but indifference.

FIESCO. Well, well (significantly). Till Genoa be two days older,
inquire not! condemn me not! (Leads her politely to another apartment. )



SCENE IV.

FIESCO; the MOOR, entering hastily.

FIESCO. Whence come you thus out of breath?

MOOR. Quick, my lord!

FIESCO. Has anything run into the net?

MOOR. Read this letter. Am I really here? Methinks Genoa is become
shorter by twelve streets, or else my legs have grown that much longer!
You change color? Yes, yes--they play at cards for heads, and yours is
the chief stake. How do you like it?

FIESCO (throws the letter on the table with horror). Thou woolly-pated
rascal! How camest thou by that letter?

MOOR. Much in the same way as your grace will come by the republic. An
express was sent with it towards Levanto. I smelt out the game; waylaid
the fellow in a narrow pass, despatched the fox, and brought the poultry
hither----

FIESCO. His blood be on thy head! As for the letter, 'tis not to be
paid with gold.

MOOR. Yet I will be content with silver for it--(seriously, and with a
look of importance). Count of Lavagna! 'twas but the other day I sought
your life. To-day (pointing to the letter) I have preserved it. Now I
think his lordship and the scoundrel are even. My further service is an
act of friendship--(presents another letter) number two!

FIESCO (receives it with astonishment). Art thou mad?

MOOR. Number two--(with an arrogant air--his arms akimbo) the lion has
not acted foolishly in pardoning the mouse. Ah! 'twas a deed of policy.
Who else could e'er have gnawed the net with which he was surrounded?
Now, sir, how like you that?

FIESCO. Fellow, how many devils hast thou in pay?

MOOR. But one, sir, at your service; and he is in your grace's keeping.

FIESCO. What! Doria's own signature! Whence dost thou bring this
paper?

MOOR. Fresh from the hands of my Diana. I went to her last night,
tempted her with your charming words, and still more charming sequins.
The last prevailed. She bade me call early in the morning. Lomellino
had been there as you predicted, and paid the toll to his contraband
heaven with this deposit.

FIESCO (indignantly). Oh, these despicable woman-slaves! They would
govern kingdoms, and cannot keep a secret from a harlot. By these papers
I learn that Doria and his party have formed a plot to murder me, with
eleven senators, and to place Gianettino on the throne.

MOOR. Even so--and that upon the morning of the ducal election, the
third of this month.

FIESCO (vehemently). The night of our enterprise shall smother that
morning in its very birth. Speed thee, Hassan. My affairs are ripe.
Collect our fellows. We will take bloody lead of our adversaries. Be
active, Hassan!

MOOR. I have a budget full of news beside. Two thousand soldiers are
safely smuggled into the city. I've lodged them with the Capuchins,
where not even a prying sunbeam can espy them. They burn with eagerness
to see their leader. They are fine fellows.

FIESCO. Each head of them shall yield thee a ducat. Is there no talk
about my galleys?

MOOR. Oh, I've a pleasant story of them, my lord. Above four hundred
adventurers, whom the peace 'twixt France and Spain has left without
employ, besought my people to recommend them to your grace to fight
against the infidels. I have appointed them to meet this evening in the
palace-court.

FIESCO (pleased). I could almost embrace thee, rascal. A masterly
stroke! Four hundred, said'st thou? Genoa is in my power. Four hundred
crowns are thine----

MOOR (with an air of confidence). Eh, Fiesco? We two will pull the
state in pieces, and sweep away the laws as with a besom. You know not
how many hearty fellows I have among the garrison--lads that I can reckon
on as surely as on a trip to hell. Now I've so laid my plans that at
each gate we have among the guard at least six of our creatures, who will
be enough to overcome the others by persuasion or by wine. If you wish
to risk a blow to-night, you'll find the sentinels all drenched with
liquor.

FIESCO. Peace, fellow! Hitherto I have moved the vast machine alone;
shall I now, at the very goal, be put to shame by the greatest rascal
under the sun? Here's my hand upon it, fellow--whate'er the Count
remains indebted to thee, the Duke shall pay.

MOOR. And here, too, is a note from the Countess Imperiali. She
beckoned to me from her window, when I went up received me graciously,
and asked me ironically if the Countess of Lavagna had not been lately
troubled with the spleen. Does your grace, said I, inquire but for one
person?

FIESCO (having read the letter throws it aside). Well said. What answer
made she?

MOOR. She answered, that she still lamented the fate of the poor
bereaved widow--that she was willing to give her satisfaction, and meant
to forbid your grace's attentions.

FIESCO (with a sneer). Which of themselves may possibly cease sometime
before the day of judgment. Is that all thy business, Hassan?

MOOR (ironically). My lord, the affairs of the ladies are next to those
of state.

FIESCO. Without a doubt, and these especially. But for what purpose are
these papers?

MOOR. To remove one plague by another. These powders the signora gave
me, to mix one every day with your wife's chocolate.

FIESCO (starting). Gave thee?

MOOR. Donna Julia, Countess Imperiali.

FIESCO (snatching them from him eagerly). If thou liest, rascal, I'll
hang thee up alive in irons at the weathercock of the Lorenzo tower,
where the wind shall whirl thee nine times round with every blast. The
powders?

MOOR (impatiently). I am to give your wife mixed with her chocolate.
Such were the orders of Donna Julia Imperiali.

FIESCO (enraged). Monster! monster! This lovely creature! Is there
room for so much hell within a female bosom? And I forgot to thank thee,
heavenly Providence, that has rendered it abortive--abortive through a
greater devil. Wondrous are thy ways! (To the MOOR. ) Swear to me to
obey, and keep this secret.

MOOR. Very well. The latter I can afford--she paid me ready money.

FIESCO. This note invites me to her. I'll be with you, madam! --and find
means to lure you hither, too. Now haste thee, with all thy speed, and
call together the conspirators.

MOOR. This order I anticipated, and therefore at my own risk appointed
every one to come at ten o'clock precisely.

FIESCO. I hear the sound of footsteps. They are here. Fellow, thy
villany deserves a gallows of its own, on which no son of Adam was ever
yet suspended. Wait in the ante-chamber till I call for thee.

MOOR. The Moor has done his work--the Moor may go.

[Exit.



SCENE V.

FIESCO, VERRINA, BOURGOGNINO, CALCAGNO, SACCO.

FIESCO (meeting them). The tempest is approaching: the clouds rash
together. Advance with caution. Let all the doors be locked.