Fiesco; or, the Genoese Conspiracy

ARABELLA. No, signora. He is the great deliverer of Genoa.

LEONORA (emphatically). Ha! that would indeed be glorious! And shall Leonora tremble? – shall the bravest republican be wedded to the most timid woman? Go, Arabella! When men contend for empires even a woman's soul may kindle into valor. (Drums again heard.) I'll rush among the combatants.

ARABELLA (clasping her hands together). All gracious heaven!

LEONORA. Softly! What strikes my foot? Here is a hat – and here a mantle! A sword, too! (she lifts it up) – a heavy sword, my Arabella; but I can carry it, and the sword shall not disgrace its bearer. (The alarm-bell sounds.)

ARABELLA. Hark! hark! How terrible it sounds yonder, from the tower of the Dominicans! God have mercy on us!

LEONORA (enthusiastically). Rather say, how delightful! In the majestic sound of this alarm-bell my Fiesco speaks to Genoa. (Drums are heard louder.) Ha! did flutes so sweetly strike my ear. Even these drums are animated by Fiesco. My heart beats higher. All Genoa is roused; the very mercenaries follow his name with transport – and shall his wife be fearful? (Alarm-bells from three other towers.) No – my hero shall embrace a heroine. My Brutus clasp within his arms a Roman wife. I'll be his Portia. (Putting on GIANETTINO'S hat and throwing his scarlet mantle round her.)

ARABELLA. My gracious lady, how wildly do you rave. (Alarm-bells and drums are heard.)

LEONORA. Cold-blooded wretch; canst thou see and hear all this, and yet not rave? The very stones are ready to weep that they have not feet to run and join Fiesco. These palaces upbraid the builder, who had laid their foundations so firmly in the earth that they cannot fly to join Fiesco. The very shores, were they able, would forsake their office in order to follow his glorious banner, though by so doing they abandoned Genoa to the mercy of the ocean. What might shake death himself out of his leaden sleep has not power to rouse thy courage? Away! I'll find my way alone.

ARABELLA. Great God! You will not act thus madly?

LEONORA (with heroic haughtiness). Weak girl! I will. (With great animation.) Where the tumult rages the most fiercely. Where Fiesco himself leads on the combat. Methinks I hear them ask, "Is that Lavagna, the unconquered hero, who with his sword decides the fate of Genoa? Is that Lavagna?" Yes, I will say; yes, Genoese, that is Lavagna; and that Lavagna is my husband!

SACCO (entering with CONSPIRATORS). Who goes there – Doria or Fiesco?

LEONORA (with enthusiasm). Fiesco and liberty. (Retires into another street. A tumult, ARABELLA lost in the crowd.)

SCENE VI

SACCO, with a number of followers. CALCAGNO, meeting him with others.

CALCAGNO. Andreas has escaped.

SACCO. Unwelcome tidings to Fiesco.

CALCAGNO. Those Germans fight like furies! They planted themselves around the old man like rocks. I could not even get a glimpse of him. Nine of our men are done for; I myself was slightly wounded. Zounds! If they thus serve a foreign tyrant, how will they guard the princes of their country?

SACCO. Numbers have flocked already to our standard, and all the gates are ours.

CALCAGNO. I hear they still are fighting desperately at the citadel.

SACCO. Bourgognino is amongst them. Where is Verrina?

CALCAGNO. He guards, like Cerberus, the passage between Genoa and the sea – an anchovy could scarcely pass him.

SACCO. I'll rouse the suburbs —

CALCAGNO. I'll away to the market-place. Drummers, strike up! (They march off, drums beating.)

SCENE VII

MOOR. A troop of THIEVES, with lighted matches.

MOOR. Now I'll let you into a secret, my boys; 'twas I that cooked this soup, but the devil a spoonful do they give me. Well, I care not. This hubbub is just to my taste. We'll set about burning and plundering. While they are squabbling for a dukedom we'll make a bonfire in the churches that shall warm the frozen apostles. (They disperse themselves among the neighboring houses.)

SCENE VIII

BOURGOGNINO – BERTHA, disguised as a boy.

BOURGOGNINO. Rest here, dear youth; thou art in safety. Dost thou bleed?

BERTHA (in a feigned voice). No; not at all.

BOURGOGNINO (with energy). Rise, then, I'll lead thee where thou mayst gain wounds for Genoa – wounds beautiful like these. (Uncovering his arm.)

BERTHA (starting). Heavens!

BOURGOGNINO. Art thou frightened, youth? Too early didst thou put on the man. What age hast thou?

BERTHA. Fifteen years.

BOURGOGNINO. That is unfortunate! For this night's business thou art five years too young. Who is thy father?

BERTHA. The truest citizen in Genoa.

BOURGOGNINO. Gently, boy! That name belongs alone to the father of my betrothed bride. Dost thou know the house of Verrina?

BERTHA. I should think so.

BOURGOGNINO (eagerly). And knowest thou his lovely daughter?

BERTHA. Her name is Bertha.

BOURGOGNINO. Go, quickly! Carry her this ring. Say it shall be our wedding-ring; and tell her the blue crest fights bravely. Now farewell! I must hasten yonder. The danger is not yet over. (Some houses are seen on fire.)

BERTHA (in a soft voice). Scipio!

BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). By my sword! I know that voice.

BERTHA (falling upon his neck). By my heart! I am well known here.

BOURGOGNINO. Bertha! (Alarm-bells sound in the suburbs – a tumult – BOURGOGNINO and BERTHA embrace, and are lost in the crowd.) [NOTE]

[NOTE] In lieu of this scene Schiller substituted the following, during his stay at Leipzig in 1786, for the use of the theatre there: —

A subterranean vault, lighted by a single lamp. The background remains quite dark. BERTHA is discovered sitting on a stone in the foreground; a black veil covers her face. After a pause she rises and walks to and fro.

BERTHA. Still no sound? No sign of human footstep? No approach of my deliverers. Horrible suspense! Fearful and hopeless as that of one buried alive beneath the sod of the churchyard. And for what dost thou sit, poor deceived one? An inviolable oath immures thee in this dungeon. Gianettino Doria must fall, and Genoa be free, or Bertha left to pine away her miserable existence, such was my father's oath. Fearful prison-house to which there is no key but the death-groan of a well-guarded tyrant. (Looking round the vault) How awful is this stillness! terrible as the silence of the grave! How fearfully the darkness creeps from yonder vaults! My lamp, too, is flickering in its socket. (Walking up and down energetically). Oh, come, come, my beloved, 'tis horrible to die here. (A pause – then she starts up and rushes to and fro wringing her hands to deep despair.) He has forsaken me. He has broken his oath. He has forgotten his Bertha. The living think not of the dead, and this vault is my tomb. Hope no more, wretched one. Hope flourishes only where the eye of the Almighty pervades – into this dungeon it never penetrates. (Again a pause; she becomes still more alarmed.)

Or have my deliverers perished? Perchance the bold attempt has failed, the danger has overwhelmed the courageous youth. O unhappy Bertha, perhaps even now their ghosts are wandering through these vaults, and weep over thy vain hopes. (Shuddering.) Heavens! if they are dead I am irrevocably lost, irrevocably abandoned to a horrible death. (Leans against the wall for support. After a pause she continues despondingly.) And if my beloved one still lives – if he should return to keep his word, to fetch his bride away in triumph, and find all here lonely and silent, and the inanimate corpse no longer sensible to his transports – when his burning kisses shall in vain endeavor to restore the life which has fled from these lips, and his tears flow on me hopelessly – when my father shall sink weeping on the body of his daughter, and the voice of his lamentations echo through the regions of my prison-house. Oh, then repeat not to them my complaints, ye walls! Tell them that I suffered like a heroine, and that my last sigh was forgiveness. (Sinks exhausted on the stone – pause – a confused sound of drums and bells is heard from behind the stage in various directions. BERTHA starts to her feet.) Hark! what means this? Am I awake, or do I dream? How dreadfully the bells clang! That is no sound of ringing to prayers. (The noise comes nearer and increases; she rushes to and fro alarmed.) Louder and louder yet! Heavens, they are alarm-bells! they are alarm-bells! Have enemies surprised the city? Is Genoa in flames? A wild and dreadful din, like the trampling of myriads! What's that? (Someone knocks loudly at the door.) They come this way – they draw the bolts – (rushing towards the background). Men! Men! Liberty! Deliverance! (BOURGOGNINO enters hastily with a drawn sword, followed by several torch-bearers.)

BOURGOGNINO (calling out loudly). Thou art free, Bertha! The tyrant is dead! This sword has passed through his heart.

BERTHA (running into his arms). My deliverer! my angel!

BOURGOGNINO. Dost thou hear the alarm-bells, and the roll of the drums? Fiesco has conquered, Genoa is free, and thy father's curse annihilated.

BERTHA. Oh, heavens! This dreadful uproar, these alarm-bells, then, were for me?

BOURGOGNINO. For thee, Bertha! They are our marriage chimes. Leave this horrid dungeon and follow me to the altar.

BERTHA. To the altar, Bourgognino? Now, at this midnight hour? While this awful tumult is raging as though the whole globe were crushing to atoms! (VERRINA enters unperceived, and remains standing silently at the entrance.)

BOURGOGNINO. In this beautiful, glorious night, in which all Genoa celebrates its freedom, as a bond of love this sword, still dyed with the tyrant's blood, shall be my wedding gear – this hand, still warm from the heroic deed, the priest shall lay in thine. Fear not my love, and follow me to the church. (VERRINA approaches, steps between both, and embraces them.)

VERRINA. God bless you, my children!

BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (falling at his feet). O my father!

VERRINA (lays his hands on them both – a pause – then he turns solemnly to BOURGOGNINO). Never forget how dearly thou hast won her. Never forget that thy marriage dates from the day of Genoa's freedom. (Turning towards BERTHA in a grave and dignified manner.) Thou art the daughter of Verrina, and 'twas thy husband slew the tyrant. (After a pause he beckons them to rise, and says, with suppressed emotion.) The priest awaits you.

BERTHA AND BOURGOGNINO (together). How, my father? Will you not accompany us thither?

VERRINA (very gravely). A terrible duty calls me elsewhere; my prayers shall accompany you. (Drums and trumpets, intermixed with acclamations, are heard in the distance.) What means this shouting?

BOURGOGNINO. They are proclaiming Fiesco duke. The populace adore him, and with eager acclamations brought him the purple; the nobles looked on with dismay, but dared not refuse their sanction.

VERRINA (laughs bitterly). You see, my son, I must away with speed to be the first to tender the oath of allegiance to the new monarch.

BOURGOGNINO (holds him back alarmed). What is your purpose! I'll go with you.

BERTHA (hanging anxiously on BOURGOGNINO). Heavens! what means this, Bourgognino? What is my father meditating?

VERRINA. My son, I have converted all my possessions into gold, and have conveyed it on board thy ship. Take thy bride and embark without delay. Perhaps I shall soon follow, perhaps never. Hasten to Marseilles, and (embracing them with emotion) God be with you.

BOURGOGNINO (determinedly). Verrina, I must stay; the danger is not yet past.

VERRINA (leading him towards BERTHA). Look to thy bride, thou proud, insatiable one. Thou hast despatched thy tyrant, leave me to deal with mine. [Exeunt.

SCENE IX

FIESCO and ZIBO from different sides. Attendants.

FIESCO (in great anger). Who set fire to those houses?

ZIBO. The citadel is taken.

FIESCO. Who set those houses on fire?

ZIBO (to the attendants). Despatch a guard to apprehend the villains. (Some soldiers go.)

FIESCO. Will they make me an incendiary? Hasten with the engines! (Attendants go.) But are you sure that Gianettino has fallen?

ZIBO. So they say.

FIESCO (wildly). They say so only! Who say? Declare, upon your honor, has he escaped?

ZIBO (doubtfully). If I may trust my eyes against the assertion of a nobleman, then – Gianettino lives.

FIESCO (starting). Zibo, your eyes may cost your head —

ZIBO. 'Tis but eight minutes since I saw him in the crowd dressed in his scarlet cloak and yellow plume.

FIESCO (wildly). Heaven and hell! Zibo! Bourgognino shall answer for it with his head. Hasten, Zibo! secure the barriers. Sink all the boats that he may not escape by sea. This diamond, Zibo – the richest in all Italy – this diamond shall reward the man who brings me tidings of Gianettino's death. (ZIBO hastens away.) Fly, Zibo!

SCENE X

FIESCO, SACCO, the MOOR, SOLDIERS.

SACCO. We found this Moor throwing a lighted match into the convent of the Jesuits.

FIESCO. Thy treachery was overlooked when it concerned myself alone. The halter awaits the incendiary. Take him away and hang him at the church-door.

MOOR. Plague on it! that's an awkward piece of business. Is there no way out of it?

FIESCO. No.

MOOR. Send me awhile to the galleys —

FIESCO (beckoning to the attendants). To the gallows.

MOOR (impudently). Then I'll turn Christian.

FIESCO. The church refuses the dregs of infidelity.

MOOR (in an insinuating manner). At least send me drunk into eternity!

FIESCO. Sober.

MOOR. Don't hang me up, however, beside a Christian church!

FIESCO. A man of honor keeps his word. I promised thee a gallows of thy own.

SACCO. No more prating, heathen! we've business of more consequence.

MOOR. But, stay! Perhaps the rope may break?

FIESCO (to SACCO). Let it be double.

MOOR. Well, if it must be so, the devil may make ready for an extra guest. (Soldiers lead him off, and hang him at a little distance.)

SCENE XI

FIESCO – LEONORA appearing at a distance, in the scarlet cloak of GIANETTINO.

FIESCO (perceiving her, rushes forward – then stops). Do I know that crest and mantle? (Rushes on furiously.) Yes, I know them. (Runs her through with his sword.) If thou hast three lives then rise again. (LEONORA falls with a hollow groan, the march of victory is heard, with drums, horns, and hautboys.)

SCENE XII

FIESCO, CALCAGNO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO:

SOLDIERS, with drums and colors.

FIESCO (advancing towards them in triumph). Genoese – the die is cast. Here lies the viper of my soul, the abhorred food of my resentment. Lift high your swords! Gianettino is no more!

CALCAGNO. And I come to inform you that two-thirds of Genoa have declared for our party, and swear obedience to Fiesco's standard.

ZIBO. By me Verrina sends his greeting to you from the admiral's galley, with the dominion of the sea.

ZENTURIONE. By me the governor of the city sends his keys and staff of office.

SACCO. And in me (kneeling) the less and greater senate of the republic kneel down before their master, and supplicate for favor and protection.

CALCAGNO. Let me be the first to welcome the illustrious conquerer within the walls. Bow your colors! Hail, Duke of Genoa!

ALL (taking off their hats). Hail! Hail, Duke of Genoa! (March of triumph – FIESCO stands the whole time with his head sunk upon his breast, in a meditating posture.)

CALCAGNO. The people and the senate wait to see their gracious sovereign invested in the robes of dignity. Great duke, permit us to follow you in triumph to the senate-house.

FIESCO. First allow me to listen to the dictates of my heart. I was obliged to leave a most dear person in anxious apprehension – a person who will share with me the glory of this night. (To the company.) Will you, my friends, attend me to your amiable duchess! (Going.)

CALCAGNO. Shall this murderous villain lie here, and hide his infamy in obscurity?

ZENTURIONE. Plant his head upon a halberd.

ZIBO. Let his mangled carcass sweep the streets! (They hold lights toward the body.)

CALCAGNO (terrified and in a low voice). Look, Genoese! By heavens, this is not the face of Gianettino! (All look at the body.)

FIESCO (fixes his eyes upon it with an eager look, which he withdraws slowly – then, with convulsive wildness, exclaims). No! ye devils! That is not the face of Gianettino – Oh, malicious fiend! Genoa is mine, say you? Mine? (Rushing forward with a dreadful shriek.) Oh, trickery of hell! It is my wife! (He sinks to the ground in agony – The CONSPIRATORS stand around in groups, shuddering – a dead silence.)

FIESCO (raising himself exhausted – in a faint voice). But tell me truly, Genoese, have I indeed slain my wife? I conjure you look not so ghastly upon this illusion! Heaven be praised! there are fates which man has not to fear, because he is but man. This must be one of them. He who is denied the joys of heaven can scarce be doomed to bear the pains of hell. This dread infliction would be even more. God be praised! It must be so. And this is naught but the chimera of a disordered brain.

SCENE XIII

The former – ARABELLA enters weeping.

ARABELLA. Let them kill me! What have I now to dread? Have pity on me, Genoese. 'Twas here I left my dearest mistress, and nowhere can I find her.

FIESCO (approaching her – with a low and trembling voice.) Was Leonora thy mistress?

ARABELLA (with pleasure). Are you there, my most gracious and dear good lord? Be not displeased with us. We could no longer restrain her.

FIESCO (in alarm). Restrain her! Wretch! From what?

ARABELLA. From following —

FIESCO (violently). Ha! From following what?

ARABELLA. The tumult —

FIESCO. What was her dress?

ARABELLA. A Scarlet mantle.

FIESCO (in a transport of rage). Get thee to the abyss of hell! The mantle?

ARABELLA. Lay here upon the ground.

SOME OF THE CONSPIRATORS (talking apart). 'Twas here that Gianettino was killed.

FIESCO (ready to faint, to ARABELLA). Thy mistress is found – (ARABELLA advances anxiously – FIESCO casts his eyes round the whole circle – then, with a faltering voice) – 'Tis true – 'Tis true – And I am the instrument of this horrid deed. (Madly.) Back! back! ye human forms! Oh! (gnashing his teeth wildly, and looking up toward heaven) had I but this created orb between my teeth – I feel as though I could tear the universe to fragments, till nature's face was hideous as the pain that gnaws my soul! (To the others, that stand around, trembling.) See, how they stand aghast there, miserable creatures! blessing themselves and rejoicing that they are not as I am. I alone feel the blow. (Wildly.) I! – why I? Why not these as well? Why is my sorrow denied the balm of being shared with others?

CALCAGNO (timidly). Most gracious duke!

FIESCO (rushes on hint with a look of fiendlike joy). Ha! Welcome! Here, Heaven be thanked, is one whom the same thunderbolt has struck! (Pressing CALCAGNO furiously in his arms.) Brother of my sorrows! Welcome to your share of destruction! She's dead. Didst thou not also love her? (Forcing him toward the dead body.) Behold her and despair! She's dead. (Fixing his eyes earnestly on one part of the stage.) Oh, that I could stand upon the brink of the infernal gulf, and view below all hell's variety of torments! – could hear the horrid shrieks of damned souls! (Approaching the body, trembling.) Here lies my murdered wife. Nay – that says too little – the wife that I myself have murdered. Oh! 'Tis the cunningest of hell's devices – first I was allured to the topmost pinnacle of joy – to the very threshold of heaven – then – in an instant hurled headlong down – and then – oh that my breath could send a pestilence to hell! And then was made the murderer of my wife – fool that I was to trust two erring eyes? Oh, fiends, this is your masterpiece of torture! (All the CONSPIRATORS lean upon their swords much afflicted – a pause.)

FIESCO (exhausted, and looking mournfully round the circle). Yes, by heavens! They who feared not to draw their swords against their prince are shedding tears! (With dejection.) Speak! Do you weep over this havoc caused by treacherous death, or do you bewail the fall of your leader's spirit? (Turning toward the dead body in an affecting posture.) Where iron-hearted warriors were melted into tears, Fiesco uttered only imprecations of despair. (Kneels down, weeping, by her side.) Pardon me, Leonora – the decrees of heaven are immutable; they yield not to mortal anger. (With a melancholy tenderness.) O Leonora, years ago my fancy painted that triumphant hour when I should present thee to Genoa as her duchess – methought I saw the lovely blush that tinged thy modest cheek – the timid heaving of thy beauteous bosom beneath the snowy gauze – I heard the gentle murmurs of thy voice, which died away in rapture! (More lively.) Ah, how intoxicating to my soul were the proud acclamations of the people! How did my love rejoice to see its triumph marked in the sinking envy of its rivals! Leonora! The hour which should confirm these hopes is come. Thy Fiesco is Duke of Genoa – and yet the meanest beggar would not exchange his poverty for my greatness and my sufferings. (More affected.) He has a wife to share his troubles – with whom can I share my splendor? (He weeps bitterly, and throws himself on the dead body. Compassion marked upon the countenances of all.)

CALCAGNO. She was, indeed, a most excellent lady.

ZIBO. This event must be concealed from the people. 'Twould damp the ardor of our party and elevate the enemy with hope.

FIESCO (rises, collected and firm). Here me, Genoese! Providence, if rightly I interpret its designs, has struck me with this wound only to try my heart for my approaching greatness. The blow was terrible. Since I have felt it, I fear neither torture nor pleasure. Come! Genoa, you say, awaits me – I will give to Genoa a prince more truly great than Europe ever saw. Away! – for this unhappy princess I will prepare a funeral so splendid that life shall lose its charms, and cold corruption glitter like a bride. Follow your duke!

[Exeunt, with music and colors.

SCENE XIV

ANDREAS, LOMELLINO.

ANDREAS. Yonder they go, with shouts of exultation.

LOMELLINO. They are intoxicated with success. The gates are deserted and all are hastening toward the senate-house.

ANDREAS. It was my nephew only whom Genoa could not brook. My nephew is no more. Hear, Lomellino!

LOMELLINO. What, duke – still – do you still hope?

ANDREAS (sternly). And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with the name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope.

LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale; what counterpoise in yours?

ANDREAS (with dignity and animation). Heaven!

LOMELLINO (shrugging up his shoulders). The times are past, my lord, when armies fought under the guidance of celestial leaders. Since gunpowder was invented angels have ceased to fight.

ANDREAS. Wretch that thou art! Wouldst thou bereave an aged head of its support, its God. (In an earnest and commanding tone.) Go! Make it known throughout Genoa that Andreas Doria is still alive. Say that Andreas entreats the citizens, his children, not to drive him, in his old age, to dwell with foreigners, who ne'er would pardon the exalted state to which he raised his country. Say this – and further say, Andreas begs but so much ground within his fatherland as may contain his bones.

LOMELLINO. I obey; but I despair of success. (Going.)

ANDREAS. Stay; take with thee this snowy lock, and say it was the last upon my head. Say that I plucked it on that night when ungrateful Genoa tore itself from my heart. For fourscore years it hung upon my temples, and now has left my bald head, chilled with the winter of age. The lock is weak, but 'twill suffice to fasten the purple on that young usurper.

[Exit – LOMELLINO hastens into another street – Shouts are heard, with trumpets and drums.

SCENE XV

VERRINA (coming from the harbor), BERTHA, and BOURGOGNINO.

VERRINA. What mean these shouts?

BOURGOGNINO. They proclaim Fiesco duke.

BERTHA (to BOURGOGNINO, timidly). Scipio! My father's looks are dreadful —

VERRINA. Leave me, my children. O Genoa! Genoa!

BOURGOGNINO. The populace adore him, and with transports hailed him as their duke. The nobles looked on with horror, but dared not oppose it.

VERRINA. My son, I have converted all my possessions into gold, and conveyed it on board thy vessel. Take thy wife with thee, and set sail immediately. Perhaps I soon shall follow. Perhaps – never more. Hasten to Marseilles, and – (embracing them mournfully and with energy) – may the Almighty guide you. [Exit hastily.