Hear, Child, I cannot longer hide it from you, But will at once entrust you with my heart's Most secret thoughts.As with Fiesko placed Before the sacred altar I did stand, And waited silent, for the church's blessing, Then, like a gleam of lightning through my soul, Arose the bold and lofty thought-Fiesko, The man whose hand now gently rests in thine (Hush-mark if no one watches our discourse!) Thy husband-(Girl, if at that mighty thought Thy heart not higher heaves, then woe to thee!) Thine own Fiesko one day will release Rosab. How? On that day, whole play, the character of the Moor is well kept up, and affords one of the best specimens of a mercenary villain that have been yet produced. In the third scene comes a very lively interview between Fiesko and Julia, in which the former makes vehement love to the princess. Then an interview between Giannettino, and his creature Lomellin, when the prince first betrays his design of obtaining possession, by violence, of Bertha, the beautiful daughter of Verrina, one of the first noblemen in the city. The whole of the first, second, and third acts, is occupied by a constant variety of scenes, exhibiting with increased strength of colouring, the unhappiness and jealousy of Leonora, the wavering character of Fiesko, who though a republican, yet aims, like other re Such dreams could haunt a woman's breast? publicans, at the acquisition of power, And then Fiesko-weep for me, good girls! Fiesko loves the sister of this demon! Rosab. Unhappy fate! With stories, not of battles-but intrigues. Rosab. Speak not loudly; Some one approaches ! Leon. Fly then-'tis perchance Fiesko, and my clouded looks might now Disturb his mirth. Excunt. To this succeeds an interview between the wicked prince Giannettino and Hassan the Moor, in which the former instructs the latter how he is to assassinate Fiesko; and on the Moor's suggestion that he must, immediately after the deed, fly from Genua, the Prince rashly pays him with a large sum beforehand. Through the the cabals and conflicts of the noblesse, the fates of Bourgognino and Bertha, the latter of whom is grossly insulted by Giannettino, in consequence of which, her lover (Bourgognino) is driven to despair, (whereupon he becomes a conspirator,) and her father, in a fit of frenzy, invokes on her a curse, never to be recalled, until such time as the present government is overthrown, and the dishonour she has sustained amply compensated.— Then there are the constantly recurring short scenes with the Moor Hassan, (one of the acting principles of evil,) with Giannettino, who, at a public meeting of the Senate, behaves in a manner the most outrageous, and then forms a plan for assassinating twelve of the nobili, and placing himself at once on the throne, &c. &c. It would be requisite to give longer extracts than we have now room for, in order to afford a proper view of the very great merits of this tragedy. [The powerful scene relating to Bertha alone occupies twenty pages.] "Fiesko" exhibits truly a concentration of varied interest, an exuberance of effective genius, and we doubt not that in its composition, Schiller (who was then but a very young man) felt himself inspired and elevated in no ordinary degree. The third act commences with the following soliloquy. The scene is a hall in Fiesko's house, with a balcony and large glass door in the back-ground, through which is visible the red light of the dawning day. Fies. (At the window.) Lo, there! the C moon already hath declined, And from the sea mounts fierily the morning. Wild fantasies have broke my nightly rest, And now my soul, my whole existence, toils Beneath ONE mighty and o'erpowering thought. I'must into the cool air! (He opens the glass door to the bal- Am I not From hence upon the tumults of mankind, And mark how destiny doth lead them on; To guide unseen that armour'd Titan JUSTICE, And if he dares with impotent wrath to knock Too loudly at th' imperial gate,-t'inflict Wounds that he dare not seek to compensate ! To check with playful rein, like harness'd steeds, The passions of the multitude,-and if The ruler's sceptre, with creative power, Should in some vassal's heart wake regal dreams, Even with one breath to crush into the dust His insolent pretensions! Oh these thoughts, These fairy visions, bear the ravish'd mind Far o'er each bound and limit. To be KING But for a moment,-this alone involves, Concentrated, the quintessence of life. 'Tis not the sphere wherein we live, but that Which we therein possess, which makes us poor Or wealthy.-Lengthen out in tones diffuse The thunder's voice, and therewith shalt thou lull Children to sleep. But, be those tones collected Into ONE fearful burst, and at the sound, So regal and imperative, the heavens To this admirable soliloquy, (which must prove a stumbling-block in the way of every translator, for it is very difficult to render,) succeeds a scene of expostulation between the Countess and Fiesko. Leon. (Timidly.) My lord, Fies. (Confused.) Leonora, Doubtless your coming now hath much surprised me. Leon. Twixt lovers, this, methinks, should never be. Fies. But wherefore trust your beauty, dearest Countess, To this cold morning air? Leon. Ask rather why Those poor remains of beauty should be saved, For grief to feed upon. Fies. For grief indeed ?— How's this, Leonora ? On your peace of mind Who married Count Fiesko !"-So they speak, And cruelly my sex revenges now Stood with me at the altar. Fies. What wild words! I pray you, Countess Leon. (Aside.) Ha! he changes colourNow pale, now red.-I breathe again! Fies. Two days Only for two days trust me. Leon. But to think (Oh virgin light of day! how dare I speak Of such a crime?) to think that I am thus Renounced and cast off for a lewd coquette ! No-look on me, Fiesko. What! those eyes Whereat all Genua trembles, cannot meet A woman's tears ? Fies. No more of this, Signora, Leon. (Bitterly.) To tear and crush a weakly woman's heart! Oh! this, forsooth, doth well become a hero. I threw myself into this warrior's arms, Confiding to him all mine earthly hopes And joys; now they are sacrificed, and all Given up for one who Fies. (Vehemently.) No, my Leonora ! Leon. My Leonora !-Oh! thanks, thanks-Kind Heaven! That tone again had love's true melody. Eagerly at the broken crumbs that now My falsehood well may teach me how to die; But to hate thee !-Oh, never! Grant me one poor request. Leon. Whate'er thou wilt Of me demand, only not cold indifference. Fies. This is all-But for two days Ask me no questions, and condemn me not. (Exit.) At length, towards the end of the fourth act, Fiesko, though his plans are yet unknown to the public, has ripened them all. He has on his side a regular band of conspirators, among the leading members of whom are Verrina, father of the injured Bertha, and Scipio Bourgognino, her lover. The troops that he had expected have secretly made their way to Genua, and are prepared to execute, at a given signal, whatever he may command, in order to complete the work of the revolution. Under these circumstances Fiesko gives another great festival, under the pretext of having hired a company of comedians for a grand dramatic spectacle. This is to take place at his own house, where, on some pretence or another, he contrives to lead the Princess Julia into a dark room, where he has previously directed his Countess, Leonora, to conceal herself behind the arras. She obeys, humbly and passively, without knowing wherefore. To this succeed the three following scenes, which we think unrivalled. The first of them depends more on the effect of situation than on language; and his character of Julia is, perhaps, too coarsely drawn, but the succeeding dialogue between Fiesko and Leonora has every possible beauty. SCENE XII, JULIA. FIESKO. (Enter together.) Julia. (Agitated.) No more, my lord! Your words no longer fall on heedless ears, But on a beating, burning heart.-Where am I? We are alone, mid the seductive darkness. Oh, whither, Count, are you resolved to lead Your careless and confiding friend ? Fies. Where love Grown desperate, feels new courage, and where passion With passion freelier speaks. Jul. No more, Fiesko, For Heaven's sake, let me go. Were not the night So dark, thou would'st behold how my cheek burns, And have compassion. Fies. Rather from that fire, My courage would be kindled into flame. (Kisses her hand.) Jul. Ha, truly, Count, your lip burns feverishly, Like your discourse, and on my features, too, I feel with shame, the reflex of a fire Before unknown-Then let us go from hence ! Amid this gloom our senses might delude Too much already I've betray'd to thee, Now to conceal aught. To engage thy heart, I doubted not, that I had charms, but how To hold thee fast I knew not (Steps back and covers her face.) Oh, for shame, What have I uttered? Fies. Even in one breath two crimesMistrust of thy Fiesko's judgment, thenHigh treason 'gainst thine own surpassing beauty Of these what is the hardest to forgive? Jul. Falsehood is but the armour of a fiend, And can Fiesko need it to ensure Our virtue is in safety; but are babes Fies. (Suddenly, as if in anger.) Cold- What would the unsated vanity of Woman? When Man doth kneel before her in the dust, And still she doubts !-Ha! now my spirit wakes! In good time have mine eyes been open'd, lady. (With cold composure.) What then would I obtain by supplication? Can all the favour Woman could bestow Deserve that Man should e'er be so degraded? (With a distant bow.) Take courage, then, Signora; you are safe. Jul. (Confounded.) Count, what, in all the world?. Fies. (With increasing coldness.) Nay, nay, Signora, Your words were wise and prudent. We have both Honour at stake. Therefore, allow me, Amid the friendly circle that awaits us, (Is about to go.) Jul. (Brings him back.) Stay! stay! Art thou mad? Must then Thy madness force from me this declaration, That all thy sex, prostrate, with groans and tears, I owed this compensation. Worthy friends, Think not that on occasion light, or none, My temper thus would break out into wrath. No; mortals by their folly long amuse Ere they provoke me; but for her who stands here, (Pointing to Julia.) She merited mine anger; for 'twas she Who mix'd this poison for my angel wife. (Shewing the phial.) Jul. (With repressed anger, and about to go.) Good, my lord; very good! Fies. (Draws her back.) I beg your patience Yet for a space, Signora; we've not done. My worthy friends would gladly know the reason Wherefore, so long, I did pretend to have lost All rational identity, and play'd Still Giannettino rules in Genua ;- Fies. Fearful words, Signora! But, alas! I must bring th' unwelcome news, That from your puissant brother's stolen crown Fiesko de Levagna hath woven a noose, Wherewith he thinks even this night to upraise That prince to an unlook'd-for elevation. (She turns pale, and he laughs scornfully.) Ha! that was unexpected.-Mark you, lady, Therefore I deem'd it best to furnish out Some special objects for the watchful eyes Of your illustrious house to gaze upon. Therefore I wore the foolscap of feign'd passion, And left this precious gem neglected here. (Pointing to Leonora.) Come thither to disturb her privacy. The night air is too sharp; were she without, The storm that rends to-night the oak of Might scorch her lovely tresses. Of hell be on thy head, thou hypocrite! He will bring ruin on himself and thee! (Rushes out, followed by the servant.) Fies. (To the guests, ladies, &c.) You have been witnesses; go, clear mine honour Mid all the citizens of Genua. (To the conspirators.) Friends, to your duty. Here shall I remain Till the first cannon-shot: be that the signal. (Exeunt all but Leonora and Fiesko.) |