ACT V.
SCENE I.
Secret chamber of the Inquisitors.
Enter Badoero and Loredano.
Badoero.
Our colleague comes not.
Loredano.
He is here.
Enter Contarini.
Badoero.
Proceed we
At once, to business. This unhappy youth——
Loredano.
Speak not as if you pitied him. None here
Should sigh, except the guilty—rigid justice
Must reign!
Badoero.
Then may the guiding light of wisdom
Descend to dissipate the uncertain twilight
Of human judgment!
Loredano.
Know you with what object
He broke the law?
Contarini.
Know I? and do you think
I would confer with traitors?
Badoero.
’Tis important
We learn his motive.
Contarini.
Need we look beyond
The act itself? Did not the late decree
Pronounce it death for a patrician
To speak with foreign ministers, or enter
Beneath his roof under the veil of night?
Badoero.
’Tis true.
Contarini.
What would you more? This daring boy
Mocks at our prohibition, and is found
Within the interdicted walls!
Badoero.
The spirit
Of that decree should rule us in decision
More than the letter. If it shall appear
He had no thought of treason, shall his youth
And recent services, all plead in vain?
Loredano (significantly.)
’Tis rumoured that some fairer cause impelled him
Incautious into danger.—
Contarini.
Idle falsehoods!
Must we give heed to every lying breath
That stirs the populace?
Badoero.
Hush, the prisoner comes.
(Foscarini is brought in by Beltramo.)
To Beltramo.] You may retire. [Exit Beltramo.
Antonio Foscarini—
You stand here—arraigned
Of foul ingratitude and treason ’gainst
Your country’s state and sovereignty. Events
Appear against you. You have violated
A late and solemn law. What answer you
To this high charge?
Foscarini.
Nothing!
Badoero.
Speak freely. We
Would fain be merciful, if you reveal
Such motives as may palliate the deed.
What was your business ’neath the Spaniard’s roof?
Foscarini.
I will not answer.
Badoero.
Nay, consider well,
Sincerity may save you.
Foscarini.
I can give
No further answer.
Contarini.
He confesses guilt.
Is it not plain?
Foscarini.
Honor I here defend—
Not life.
Loredano.
So obstinate? let us then try
If torture will avail!
Contarini (quickly.)
No—not the torture!
He is too weak for it; we could not hope
To force the truth by violent means from him.
Loredano (aside.)
Unwonted clemency! I well can guess
Its meaning!
(To Foscarini.) Dost thou not fear the torture?
Foscarini.
Ye may tear
Emulous, these wretched limbs; your power can never
Reach to the soul, unless your hatred dare
To chronicle as words the groans that falter
Upon the blood-stained lip; here, I repeat it,
I will die silent!
Badoero.
To a gentle judge
Give gentle answer. By thy noble country,
The honor of thine ancestors, all great
In arms and council—by these walls, defended
With blood of thine illustrious sire—I pray thee,
Spare thine own fame! Reveal——
Foscarini.
Within my heart
Your prayer is heard. You shall have fit reply.
Lo! on the traitor’s breast, the vestiges
Of foreign wars! Here pierced the Spaniard’s blade!
Loredano.
We would not count thy wounds: the latest one,
Thy hand inflicted.
Contarini.
Aye—in guilty terror.
Waste time no more!
Badoero.
Dost know, misguided youth,
The penalty of thy crime?
Foscarini.
’Tis death.
Badoero.
And yet
A further punishment.
Foscarini.
What more?
Badoero.
Dishonor!
Who shall wipe off the stain thy execution
Will fix on all the kindred of thy house?
Foscarini.
Answer you that! You may decree, ’tis true,
My death, but with my death you will decree
Your everlasting infamy. Where’er
In future years the deed shall be remembered,
’Twill tell of shame—not mine! The popular voice
May here be dumb—but in all lands, that spurn
The tongue-controlling terrors of your sway,
There shall be weighed—there writ in characters
Indelible—my merits—your reward!
Badoero.
Withdraw a space. [Foscarini retires up the stage.
Contarini.
Can you doubt now?
Badoero.
Appearances
Are strong against him, but his words, though bold,
Seem those of innocence.
Contarini.
Is’t new to you,
The boldness of the guilty?
Badoero.
He preserves,
At least, the aspect of his former virtue.
Loredano.
Hear me! The doge is Foscarini’s friend.
Grant him a meeting with the prisoner;
He may prevail, and draw the secret from him
That we have failed to learn.
Contarini.
What mockery this!
Loredano.
Nay—is not life at stake? Should we neglect
Aught that may save the boy?
Badoero.
It is but just.
The doge shall be admitted. Ho! Beltramo!
Enter Beltramo.
Take back your prisoner, and whom we shall send
Permit to see him. [Beltramo leads out Foscarini.
(Exeunt the inquisitors on the other side.)
SCENE II.
A Street.
Enter Vincentio and Leonardo, followed by several citizens.
Vincentio.
Courage, my friends! this way leads to his prison.
We’ll break those bars, and drag their gloomy secrets
Into unwonted light.
Leonardo.
Nay—by such madness
You cast away success.
Vincentio.
Shall we shrink back
Even on its threshold?
Leonardo.
One false step, bethink you,
May lose you all. Look—yonder they approach!
Vincentio.
Now is the moment.
Leonardo.
No—’twould but endanger
Yourselves—and serve not him. Pray you—be patient
’Till they have reached the palace; then surround it,
And with your prayers, which more than threats avail,
Besiege their ears.
Vincentio.
To be repulsed and mocked!
Leonardo.
If so, despair; no force of yours can save him.
The Senate would but laugh at you.
To citizens.] Depart!
We are safe no longer here. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Contarini’s palace.
Enter Teresa, meeting Matilda.
Teresa.
Is he returned?
Matilda.
This instant.
Teresa.
He will come,
If that he bears ill tidings. What have I
To do with dread? Hush! ’tis his step.—Away!
[Exit Matilda as Contarini enters.
Contarini.
She looks beseechingly—but dares not speak!
I’ll feast upon her pale despair! Fair madam,
Your lover is condemned.
Teresa.
Condemned—already?
Contarini.
Are the inquisitors slow to doom the guilty?
Yet hear one truth which haply may console you.
Even in strict trial he would not reveal
The motive that impelled him to the act
For which he dies.
Teresa.
He would not!
Contarini.
Though the tale
Of your disgrace had saved him, he persisted
In silence!
Teresa.
And you—Contarini—you—
Oh God! do coldly stab him with the weapon
His generous virtue gives you!
Contarini.
Even so!
Teresa.
Is there no righteous ministry in heaven,
No power, no will, to save the innocent?
Is this your justice? Oh! it cannot be—
I wrong even you, to impute such guilt as this!
Your hearts are hard—you’re cruel—but this pitch
Of fiendish cruelty surpasses you!
You could not do this! no—you smile—you could not!
There’s not in human breasts a void so drear,
So horrible—whence all that sweetens life
Has been driven forth, to welcome hell’s worst spirits!
Oh! you who have framed these horrid words, to sear
And strike me dead—and I have borne the blow
Whose force is spent on me—on me alone!
Is’t not thus? say—say—
Contarini.
That they have import
You will soon know.
Teresa.
And is your bosom steeled
To pity, as to truth? Hear me—but hear me!
I’ll buy his life.—I’ll pay your price of blood!
Heap vengeance on my head. I’ll bear it all!
But save him! Do an act which shall bring down
The blessings of a broken heart upon you!
Which shall unlock the treasures of Heaven’s mercy,
And bid you draw from its deep fount at will!
Contarini.
These prayers are idle. Could they aught avail,
’Twould be to make his fate more sure.
Teresa.
’Tis madness
‘To speak to thee of mercy! Yet—bethink thee,
‘Is there no sure and solemn retribution
‘Striding even now, fast on thy guilty footsteps?
‘Shalt thou remain unpunished? Will the voice
‘That from the innocent blood reeks to the sky,
‘Cease to upbraid thee? Will these mortal men
‘Above whom this, thy hellish deed, will raise thee
‘In eminence of evil—fail to shun,
‘To curse the murderer?
‘Contarini.
‘Thou’rt his murderer.’
Teresa.
Take heed! take heed! you know me not! nor know
The strength of desperation. Deeply hid
Doth lurk ofttimes the fire, which fanned to rage,
Shall wrap whole cities in devouring flame!
Abide its fury now! I will denounce you
Myself—before your infamous tribunal!
They’ll hear me! if no justice dares to dwell there,
I’ll drag it from the skies—and bid it thunder
Its vengeance in your ears!
Contarini.
Stay—stay—rash woman!
Dost think I prize my name and fame so lightly,
To leave it longer in thy keeping? Look—
The doors are barred.
Teresa.
Your name and fame! I’ll blast it!
I’ll blast it! not a tongue in this wide Venice
But shall dwell on, and scoff at your disgrace!
I’ll publish it abroad! I will proclaim
To all—aye all—and none will dream of doubt,
Myself a thing of guilt, that the black stain
May reach through me to you, and all you boast!
It shall cling to you ever—with its deep
And damning blight—and none shall cancel it!
Then I will triumph!
Contarini.
Nay! she is distraught!
Teresa—listen!
Teresa.
No—no—you shall plead
As I have; but ’tis now my turn to scorn! [Exit.
(Contarini retires slowly.)
SCENE IV.
A corridor leading from the prisons.
Enter Foscarini, fettered and guarded—the Doge, and Beltramo.
Foscarini.
To Beltramo.] If it may be,
Loose me these fetters;—for the last time here
I fain would pass unchained.
Beltramo.
I should be forced
To wear them.
Foscarini.
Pardon! I forgot that here
Pity was death!
Doge.
I grieve to see you thus!
Foscarini.
Why? my arrest, my punishment, methinks,
Should mark me out for envy—since the bolt
Of vengeance from the state in this resembles
Heaven’s winged lightnings—that it ever strikes
The proudest head!
Doge.
Your judges would be gentle.
Why not reveal your secret—and afford
Room for their mercy?
Foscarini.
No! I scorn their mercy!
Doge.
A word may save your life——
Foscarini.
And blast that life
With infamy eternal!
Doge.
Then the secret
Involves deep guilt?
Foscarini.
It doth not. Urge no more—
My doom is fixed—and fixed is my resolve.
Doge.
Have you considered it—the deep disgrace
Your fate will stamp on all you love?
Foscarini.
Alas!
There is the sting! ’tis not enough in darkness
To doom the offender, and to take from him
Life with its joys and hopes—but they pursue
Beyond the grave, and load the senseless dust
With calumny! To what hath not risen
This monstrous power? Oh! well indeed had’st thou
Thy cradle ’midst the clay of thy lagunes,
Base city, which hast borne it!
Enter Memmo.
Memmo (to Doge.)
Sir—the council
Await your attendance. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Grand Council Chamber. Inquisitors, Veniero, and other Senators. Enter the Doge, and Foscarini guarded. Pascali stands behind among the guards.
Badoero.
Hath he disclosed aught?
Doge.
Nothing!
Badoero (to Foscarini.)
Then stand forth.
To our arraignment thou confessest guilt?
Foscarini.
I broke the laws.
Contarini.
Guilty!
Foscarini.
On earth—perhaps
In Heaven’s eye innocent.
Badoero.
Thy sentence hear—
’Till sunset shalt thou live—but at that hour—
When the bell strikes—bid thine adieu to earth;
Go now—and make thy peace with Heaven.
Foscarini.
’Tis made
Already—victim to your human laws,
I hope acquittal there! [Exit, guarded.
Contarini.
So—until sunset!
Too long a space remains. Why pause, when danger
May wait on our delay?
Badoero.
What danger?
Contarini.
Hath he not
Friends who may interfere to strike aside
The axe of justice? He is much beloved
By many citizens.
Enter Steno.
Steno.
Signors—a tumult
Is raised among the populace.
Loredano.
Rebellion?
Steno.
They throng the courts—and every tongue repeats
The name of Foscarini. With acclaim
They call for his release.
Badoero.
Lead forth the guard.
Their sight will be enough. [Exit Steno.
Contarini.
Enough! how rash
To tempt their fury! Need we linger now?
Command his instant execution—let
The rabble see what tumults will avail.
Badoero.
Not so. Should we anticipate the hour
’Twould show that we have feared them—that we heed
The voice of faction. Let our first decree
Be sacredly observed. (To Loredano.) Shall it not be so?
Loredano.
My judgment seconds yours.
(Contarini makes signs apart to Pascali, who goes out hastily.) Enter Memmo.
Memmo (to Doge.)
My liege, a lady, closely veiled, without,
Entreats to see your highness.
Doge.
A lady?
Memmo.
She has passed
The guard with prayers and bribes—and doth implore
A moment’s audience—pleading that her business
Concerns you strictly.
Contarini.
She cannot be admitted;
She’s an accomplice——
Enter Teresa.
Teresa.
Back, back—hold me not!
For shame, my lords, to judge without a witness—
Without one witness—and to doom your victim
When but a woman’s words might save him!
Badoero.
Who is’t
That speaks so wildly?
Teresa (throwing back her veil.)
Look—and know me, all!
I come to tell what he would not!
Loredano.
The wife of Contarini!
Contarini.
Sirs, I pray you,
Heed not her words, but yield her to my keeping—
And——
Teresa.
To his keeping? his—the murderer!
Let him not touch me with his blood-stained hands!
My lord! Oh, keep me from his grasp! I’ll tell thee
All—all! and if my words are wild and wayward,
They are truth! If perchance my tongue doth falter,
’Tis not the weakness of the conscious soul!
Hold! hold! and hear me!
‘Veniero.
‘My poor child!
‘Teresa.
‘No child!
‘No child of thine! Who was’t I called father?
‘Not one who caused all this! Fie! fie! do fathers
‘Thus immolate their children? I have heard
‘Of pyres and axes—and of men who stood
‘And hewed down arms that fondly twined with theirs—
‘And watched the gushing stream that had its source
‘In their own veins! But you—you rend asunder
‘The hidden strings of life—and yoke the spirit
‘To falsehood, from whose dark and subtle fold
‘No force can set it free! and when ’tis done,
‘And the soul wears the hue of misery—
‘And the brain burns—ye would repent the work
‘Yourself have wrought!’
Contarini.
Woman! I do command you—
Hence!
Teresa.
No! we stand within no dungeon now,
With prison walls to hear—and him in chains
To plead for you! Here reach no bribes of yours!
Loredano.
Who speaks of bribes?
Teresa.
They’re his! he used them, truly,
To save the guiltless. Pshaw! what were his bribes?
Gold—paltry gold! And mine! He claimed a price
Nought could redeem! a perjured soul! a spirit
Sold to perdition!
Contarini.
Ye perceive it plainly,
Her frenzy;—nay—harass her not!
Teresa.
Silence!
His words would ever mingle with my words,
To strike me dumb! But I’ve a better spirit
That bids me speak, and clear the innocent.
Doge.
Speak on—we hear thee.
Teresa.
Why then—he was false,
Who said ye heard no truth? Beseech ye, listen!
He loved me—Foscarini;—’twas not guilt,—
But sorrow—sorrow! Me he came to meet,
After that fatal bridal.
Contarini.
Hear no more!
Veniero.
Her tale is true, my lords!—I did compel her,
To advance a purpose, thrice accursed, of mine,
To wed one whom she hated;—he she loved,
Returned upon her bridal night.—Ye saw
Her anguish then!
Teresa.
Oh yes! we met within
The garden that adjoins the Spaniard’s palace—
That fatal palace!—and he came, to murder
My Foscarini—sought him where he fled;
Sought him, and found him! Then his malice wrought
That horrid tale which has deceived you all,
Of crime, and treason, and conspiracy;—
Ye know it now—it blanches you with fear—
You—to whom blood’s no stranger! Can you wonder
It maddens me?
Contarini.
For shame—to lend an audience
To this wild story, as if solemn truths
Came from her lips! I tell you—she is mad!
Teresa.
Believe him not! nor hear him! if you do,
Not Heaven can rescue you from his black cunning!
‘He’ll defy Heaven.—I am not mad—but dying!
‘My lord—my lord—the dying speak not falsely!’
Doge.
It must be so. We have been deceived. (To Badoero.) Signor,
Will you delay the execution?
(Tumult and shouts heard without.)
Badoero (to Memmo.)
Whence is this tumult, sir?
Memmo.
The guards have seized
Vincentio, him who stirred the multitude
To factious rage without.
Contarini.
Unheard of treason!
Loredano.
Move not, I pray you. But a moment past,
Ye spoke, if I mistake not, of deferring
The prisoner’s execution?
Badoero.
First secure
That daring felon. Quell the stir without;
That we seem not to yield grace to rebellion. [Bell tolls.
Teresa.
His knell—his knell! It strikes mine too!
Badoero (to Memmo.)
Begone—and stop the fatal signal! Say
We do suspend the sentence. [Exit Memmo.
Teresa.
Bless thee—just one!
There are yet gods on earth; and those above
Will hail thee brother for this deed!
Loredano.
My lords,
One act of justice more. Him I attach [pointing to Contarini.
Of foul conspiracy.
Contarini.
Ha!
Loredano.
Look! this pacquet—
Letters are here, which prove alliances
With dangerous foes.—Here we may read the boasts
In secresy recorded—what should chance
When Contarini should be prince in Venice,
With no stern Senate to control his will?
Contarini.
Who aided you to frame so fair a tale?
Methinks it needs less dubious witnesses
To give it credence!
Loredano.
They are ready;—one
The lady Fiorilla! At that name
You turn pale, Signor!
Contarini.
Idle words I’ve whispered
Oft in her ear—but they can never rise
Against me!
Loredano.
No! your written words condemn you—
’Twas at her house you met, in conclave dark,
To weave your treasons. Her you deemed a tool;
But she your guilt discovered, and reveals it.
Veniero.
I’ll witness to her truth: on my head too,
Pronounce the traitor’s doom. ’Twill be too light
To outweigh my crimes. Ye’ll hear the list anon!
Enter Memmo, hastily.
Memmo.
My lord, the prisoner——
Contarini.
Away! ’tis mine
To tell thy story:—in my fall, at least
To drag some victims with me. Ha! ye thought
To cheat me of revenge! It is accomplished!
Lo! on the Piazetta! where the corpse
Of Foscarini lies! Look! from yon casement!
My cords took heed of him! You are too tardy!
Away—and join your lover!
[Attempts to stab Teresa, but is disarmed by Badoero.
Badoero.
Ho! the guard!
Bear him hence! Chain the traitor!
[Exit Contarini, guarded.
Veniero.
My daughter! my Teresa!
Teresa.
He is dead!
They murdered him, even while they talked of mercy!
Veniero.
This, this is retribution! My wronged child!
Speak—speak to me! Oh! I would barter Heaven
But for one word!
Teresa.
What means this mist, this darkness
Around me? Who supports me?—Father!——
Veniero.
Speak!
Canst thou forgive me?
Teresa.
Forgive? it is a sound
To soothe the dying! Father! come thou near me!
Stoop lower—lower—let me lean my head
Upon thy breast—for oh! I’m weary!—weary!—
This strange, cold sleep o’erpowers me.—If I wake not
Before he come—bid him await me——here—— [Dies.
THE END.