Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series
Page 108
Who begs his bread, if ‘tis refused by one,
May win it from another kinder heart;
But he, who is denied his right by those
Whose place it is to do no wrong, is poorer
Than the rejected beggar — he’s a slave —
And that am I — and thou — and all our house,
Even from this hour; the meanest artisan
Will point the finger, and the haughty noble
May spit upon us: — where is our redress? 110
Ber. F. The law, my Prince —
Doge (interrupting him). You see what it has done;
I asked no remedy but from the law —
I sought no vengeance but redress by law —
I called no judges but those named by law —
As Sovereign, I appealed unto my subjects,
The very subjects who had made me Sovereign,
And gave me thus a double right to be so.
The rights of place and choice, of birth and service,
Honours and years, these scars, these hoary hairs,
The travel — toil — the perils — the fatigues — 120
The blood and sweat of almost eighty years,
Were weighed i’ the balance, ‘gainst the foulest stain,
The grossest insult, most contemptuous crime
Of a rank, rash patrician — and found wanting!
And this is to be borne!
Ber. F. I say not that: —
In case your fresh appeal should be rejected,
We will find other means to make all even.
Doge. Appeal again! art thou my brother’s son?
A scion of the house of Faliero?
The nephew of a Doge? and of that blood 130
Which hath already given three dukes to Venice?
But thou say’st well — we must be humble now.
Ber. F. My princely Uncle! you are too much moved; —
I grant it was a gross offence, and grossly
Left without fitting punishment: but still
This fury doth exceed the provocation,
Or any provocation: if we are wronged,
We will ask justice; if it be denied,
We’ll take it; but may do all this in calmness —
Deep Vengeance is the daughter of deep Silence. 140
I have yet scarce a third part of your years,
I love our house, I honour you, its Chief,
The guardian of my youth, and its instructor —
But though I understand your grief, and enter
In part of your disdain, it doth appal me
To see your anger, like our Adrian waves,
O’ersweep all bounds, and foam itself to air.
Doge. I tell thee — must I tell thee — what thy father
Would have required no words to comprehend?
Hast thou no feeling save the external sense 150
Of torture from the touch? hast thou no soul —
No pride — no passion — no deep sense of honour?
Ber. F. ‘Tis the first time that honour has been doubted,
And were the last, from any other sceptic.
Doge. You know the full offence of this born villain,
This creeping, coward, rank, acquitted felon,
Who threw his sting into a poisonous libel,
And on the honour of — Oh God! my wife,
The nearest, dearest part of all men’s honour,
Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth 160
Of loose mechanics, with all coarse foul comments,
And villainous jests, and blasphemies obscene;
While sneering nobles, in more polished guise,
Whispered the tale, and smiled upon the lie
Which made me look like them — a courteous wittol,
Patient — aye — proud, it may be, of dishonour.
Ber. F. But still it was a lie — you knew it false,
And so did all men.
Doge. Nephew, the high Roman
Said, “Cæsar’s wife must not even be suspected,”
And put her from him.
Ber. F. True — but in those days — — 170
Doge. What is it that a Roman would not suffer,
That a Venetian Prince must bear? old Dandolo
Refused the diadem of all the Cæsars,
And wore the ducal cap I trample on —
Because ‘tis now degraded.
Ber. F. ’Tis even so.
Doge. It is — it is; — I did not visit on
The innocent creature thus most vilely slandered
Because she took an old man for her lord,
For that he had been long her father’s friend
And patron of her house, as if there were 180
No love in woman’s heart but lust of youth
And beardless faces; — I did not for this
Visit the villain’s infamy on her,
But craved my country’s justice on his head,
The justice due unto the humblest being
Who hath a wife whose faith is sweet to him,
Who hath a home whose hearth is dear to him —
Who hath a name whose honour’s all to him,
When these are tainted by the accursing breath
Of Calumny and Scorn.
Ber. F. And what redress 190
Did you expect as his fit punishment?
Doge. Death! Was I not the Sovereign of the state —
Insulted on his very throne, and made
A mockery to the men who should obey me?
Was I not injured as a husband? scorned
As man? reviled, degraded, as a Prince?
Was not offence like his a complication
Of insult and of treason? — and he lives!
Had he instead of on the Doge’s throne
Stamped the same brand upon a peasant’s stool, 200
His blood had gilt the threshold; for the carle
Had stabbed him on the instant.
Ber. F. Do not doubt it,
He shall not live till sunset — leave to me
The means, and calm yourself.
Doge. Hold, nephew: this
Would have sufficed but yesterday; at present
I have no further wrath against this man.
Ber. F. What mean you? is not the offence redoubled
By this most rank — I will not say — acquittal;
For it is worse, being full acknowledgment
Of the offence, and leaving it unpunished? 210
Doge. It is redoubled, but not now by him:
The Forty hath decreed a month’s arrest —
We must obey the Forty.
Ber. F. Obey them!
Who have forgot their duty to the Sovereign?
Doge. Why, yes; — boy, you perceive it then at last;
Whether as fellow citizen who sues
For justice, or as Sovereign who commands it,
They have defrauded me of both my rights
(For here the Sovereign is a citizen);
But, notwithstanding, harm not thou a hair 220
Of Steno’s head — he shall not wear it long.
Ber. F. Not twelve hours longer, had you left to me
The mode and means; if you had calmly heard me,
I never meant this miscreant should escape,
But wished you to suppress such gusts of passion,
That we more surely might devise together
His taking off.
Doge. No, nephew, he must live;
At least, just now — a life so vile as his
Were nothing at this hour; in th’ olden time
Some sacrifices asked a single victim, 230
Great expiations had a hecatomb.
Ber. F. Your wishes are my law: and yet I fain
Would prove to you how near unto m
y heart
The honour of our house must ever be.
Doge. Fear not; you shall have time and place of proof:
But be not thou too rash, as I have been.
I am ashamed of my own anger now;
I pray you, pardon me.
Ber. F. Why, that’s my uncle!
The leader, and the statesman, and the chief
Of commonwealths, and sovereign of himself! 240
I wondered to perceive you so forget
All prudence in your fury at these years,
Although the cause —
Doge. Aye — think upon the cause —
Forget it not: — When you lie down to rest,
Let it be black among your dreams; and when
The morn returns, so let it stand between
The Sun and you, as an ill-omened cloud
Upon a summer-day of festival:
So will it stand to me; — but speak not, stir not, —
Leave all to me; we shall have much to do, 250
And you shall have a part. — But now retire,
‘Tis fit I were alone.
Ber. F. (taking up and placing the ducal bonnet on the table).
Ere I depart,
I pray you to resume what you have spurned,
Till you can change it — haply, for a crown!
And now I take my leave, imploring you
In all things to rely upon my duty,
As doth become your near and faithful kinsman,
And not less loyal citizen and subject.
[Exit Bertuccio FalieroBertuccio Faliero.
Doge (solus). Adieu, my worthy nephew. — Hollow bauble!
[Taking up the ducal cap.
Beset with all the thorns that line a crown, 260
Without investing the insulted brow
With the all-swaying majesty of Kings;
Thou idle, gilded, and degraded toy,
Let me resume thee as I would a vizor. [Puts it on.
How my brain aches beneath thee! and my temples
Throb feverish under thy dishonest weight.
Could I not turn thee to a diadem?
Could I not shatter the Briarean sceptre
Which in this hundred-handed Senate rules,
Making the people nothing, and the Prince 270
A pageant? In my life I have achieved
Tasks not less difficult — achieved for them,
Who thus repay me! Can I not requite them?
Oh for one year! Oh! but for even a day
Of my full youth, while yet my body served
My soul as serves the generous steed his lord,
I would have dashed amongst them, asking few
In aid to overthrow these swoln patricians;
But now I must look round for other hands
To serve this hoary head; but it shall plan 280
In such a sort as will not leave the task
Herculean, though as yet ‘tis but a chaos
Of darkly brooding thoughts: my fancy is
In her first work, more nearly to the light
Holding the sleeping images of things
For the selection of the pausing judgment. —
The troops are few in — —
Enter Vincenzo.
Vin. There is one without
Craves audience of your Highness.
Doge. I’m unwell —
I can see no one, not even a patrician —
Let him refer his business to the Council. 290
Vin. My Lord, I will deliver your reply;
It cannot much import — he’s a plebeian,
The master of a galley, I believe.
Doge. How! did you say the patron of a galley?
That is — I mean — a servant of the state:
Admit him, he may be on public service.
[Exit Vincenzo.
Doge (solus). This patron may be sounded; I will try him.
I know the people to be discontented:
They have cause, since Sapienza’s adverse day,
When Genoa conquered: they have further cause, 300
Since they are nothing in the state, and in
The city worse than nothing — mere machines,
To serve the nobles’ most patrician pleasure.
The troops have long arrears of pay, oft promised,
And murmur deeply — any hope of change
Will draw them forward: they shall pay themselves
With plunder: — but the priests — I doubt the priesthood
Will not be with us; they have hated me
Since that rash hour, when, maddened with the drone,
I smote the tardy Bishop at Treviso, 310
Quickening his holy march; yet, ne’ertheless,
They may be won, at least their Chief at Rome,
By some well-timed concessions; but, above
All things, I must be speedy: at my hour
Of twilight little light of life remains.
Could I free Venice, and avenge my wrongs,
I had lived too long, and willingly would sleep
Next moment with my sires; and, wanting this,
Better that sixty of my fourscore years
Had been already where — how soon, I care not — 320
The whole must be extinguished; — better that
They ne’er had been, than drag me on to be
The thing these arch-oppressors fain would make me.
Let me consider — of efficient troops
There are three thousand posted at — —
Enter Vincenzo and Israel Bertuccio.
Vin. May it please
Your Highness, the same patron whom I spake of
Is here to crave your patience.
Doge. Leave the chamber,
Vincenzo. —
[Exit Vincenzo.
Sir, you may advance — what would you?
I. Ber. Redress.
Doge. Of whom?
I. Ber. Of God and of the Doge.
Doge. Alas! my friend, you seek it of the twain 330
Of least respect and interest in Venice.
You must address the Council.
I. Ber. ’Twere in vain;
For he who injured me is one of them.
Doge. There’s blood upon thy face — how came it there?
I. Ber. ‘Tis mine, and not the first I’ve shed for Venice,
But the first shed by a Venetian hand:
A noble smote me.
Doge. Doth he live?
I. Ber. Not long —
But for the hope I had and have, that you,
My Prince, yourself a soldier, will redress
Him, whom the laws of discipline and Venice 340
Permit not to protect himself: — if not —
I say no more.
Doge. But something you would do —
Is it not so?
I. Ber. I am a man, my Lord.
Doge. Why so is he who smote you.
I. Ber. He is called so;
Nay, more, a noble one — at least, in Venice:
But since he hath forgotten that I am one,
And treats me like a brute, the brute may turn —
‘Tis said the worm will.
Doge. Say — his name and lineage?
I. Ber. Barbaro.
Doge. What was the cause? or the pretext?
I. Ber. I am the chief of the arsenal, employed 350
At present in repairing certain galleys
But roughly used by the Genoese last year.
This morning comes the noble Barbaro
Full of reproof, because our artisans
Had left some frivolous order of his house,
To execute the state’s decree: I dared
To justify the men — he raised his hand; —
Behold my blood! the first time it e’er flowed
Dishonourably.
Doge. Have you long time served?
I. Ber. So long as to remember Zara’s siege, 360
And fight beneath the Chief who beat the Huns there,
Sometime my general, now the Doge Faliero. —
Doge. How! are we comrades? — the State’s ducal robes
Sit newly on me, and you were appointed
Chief of the arsenal ere I came from Rome;
So that I recognised you not. Who placed you?
I. Ber. The late Doge; keeping still my old command
As patron of a galley: my new office
Was given as the reward of certain scars
(So was your predecessor pleased to say): 370
I little thought his bounty would conduct me
To his successor as a helpless plaintiff;
At least, in such a cause.
Doge. Are you much hurt?
I. Ber. Irreparably in my self-esteem.
Doge. Speak out; fear nothing: being stung at heart,
What would you do to be revenged on this man?
I. Ber. That which I dare not name, and yet will do.
Doge. Then wherefore came you here?
I. Ber. I come for justice,
Because my general is Doge, and will not
See his old soldier trampled on. Had any, 380
Save Faliero, filled the ducal throne,
This blood had been washed out in other blood.
Doge. You come to me for justice — unto me!
The Doge of Venice, and I cannot give it;
I cannot even obtain it — ’twas denied
To me most solemnly an hour ago!
I. Ber. How says your Highness?
Doge. Steno is condemned
To a month’s confinement.
I. Ber. What! the same who dared
To stain the ducal throne with those foul words,
That have cried shame to every ear in Venice? 390
Doge. Aye, doubtless they have echoed o’er the arsenal,
Keeping due time with every hammer’s clink,
As a good jest to jolly artisans;
Or making chorus to the creaking oar,
In the vile tune of every galley-slave,
Who, as he sung the merry stave, exulted
He was not a shamed dotard like the Doge.
I. Ber. Is’t possible? a month’s imprisonment!
No more for Steno?
Doge. You have heard the offence,
And now you know his punishment; and then 400
You ask redress of me! Go to the Forty,
Who passed the sentence upon Michel Steno;
They’ll do as much by Barbaro, no doubt.
I. Ber. Ah! dared I speak my feelings!
Doge. Give them breath.
Mine have no further outrage to endure.
I. Ber. Then, in a word, it rests but on your word
To punish and avenge — I will not say