For Lugo . . . Nay, he hears not! On with it —
The cloak, Luitolfo, do you hear me? See —
He obeys he knows not how. — Then, if I must . . .
Answer me! Do you know the Lugo gate?
Eu. The north-west gate, over the bridge
Luit. I know!
Ch. Well, there — you are not frightened? All my route
Is traced in that — at Venice you’ll escape
Their power! Eulalia — I am master here!
[Shouts from without. He pushes out LUITOLFO,
who complies mechanically.
In time! nay, help me with him — So! — he’s gone.
Eu. What have you done? On you, perchance, all know
The Provost’s hater, will men’s vengeance fall
As our accomplice . . .
Ch. Mere accomplice? See!
[Putting on LUITOLFO’s vest.
Now, Lady, am I true to my profession,
Or one of these?
Eu. You take Luitolfo’s place?
Ch. Die for him!
Eu. Well done! [Shouts increase.
Ch. How the people tarry!
I can’t be silent . . . I must speak . . . or sing —
How natural to sing now!
Eu. Hush and pray!
We are to die — but even I perceive
‘Tis not a very hard thing so to die —
My cousin of the pale-blue tearful eyes,
Poor Cesca, suffers more from one day’s life
With the stern husband; Tisbe’s heart goes forth
Each evening after that wild son of hers,
To track his thoughtless footstep thro’ the streets —
How easy for them both to die like this!
I am not sure that I could live as they.
Ch. Here they come, crowds! They pass the gate?
Yes! — No! —
One torch is in the court-yard. Here flock all!
Eu. At least Luitolfo has escaped! — What cries!
Ch. If they would drag one to the market-place,
One might speak there!
Eu. List, list!
Ch. They mount the steps!
Enter the Populace.
Ch. I killed the Provost!
[The Populace speaking together.] ’Twas Chiappino, friends!
Our saviour. — The best man at last as first!
He who first made us see what chains we wore,
He also strikes the blow that shatters them,
He at last saves us — our best citizen!
— Oh, have you only courage to speak now?
My eldest son was christened a year since
“Cino” to keep Chiappino’s name in mind —
Cino, for shortness merely, you observe!
The City’s in our hands. — The guards are fled —
Do you, the cause of all, come down — come down —
Come forth to counsel us, our chief, our king,
Whate’er rewards you! Choose your own reward!
The peril over, its reward begins!
Come and harangue us in the market-place
Eu. Chiappino!
Ch. Yes . . . I understand your eyes!
You think I should have promptlier disowned
This deed with its strange unforeseen success
In favour of Luitolfo — but the peril,
So far from ended, hardly seems begun!
To-morrow, rather, when a calm succeeds,
We easily shall make him full amends:
And meantime . . . if we save them as they pray,
And justify the deed by its effects?
Eu. You would, for worlds, you had denied at once!
Ch. I know my own intention, be assured!
All’s well! Precede us, fellow-citizens!
Part II
The Market-place. LUITOLFO in disguise mingling with the Populace assembled opposite the Provost’s Palace.
1st Bystander [To LUIT.] You, a friend of Luitolfo’s! Then, your friend is vanished, — in all probability killed on the night that his patron the tyrannical Provost was loyally suppressed here, exactly a month ago, by our illustrious fellow-citizen, thrice-noble saviour, and new Provost that is like to be, this very morning, — Chiappino!
Luit. He the new Provost?
2nd. Up those steps will he go, and beneath yonder pillar stand, while Ogniben, the Pope’s Legate from Ravenna, reads the new dignitary’s title to the people, according to established usage. — For which reason, there is the assemblage you inquire about.
Luit. Chiappino — the old Provost’s successor? Impossible! But tell me of that presently — What I would know first of all is, wherefore Luitolfo must so necessarily have been killed on that memorable night?
3rd. You were Luitolfo’s friend? So was I — Never, if you will credit me, did there exist so poor — spirited a milk-sop! He, with all the opportunities in the world furnished by daily converse with our oppressor, would not stir a finger to help us: so when Chiappino rose in solitary majesty and . . . how does one go on saying? . . . dealt the godlike blow, — this Luitolfo, not unreasonably fearing the indignation of an aroused and liberated people, fled precipitately: he may have got trodden to death in the press at the south-east gate, when the Provost’s guards fled thro’ it to Ravenna, with their wounded master, — if he did not rather hang himself under some hedge.
Luit. Or why not simply have lain perdue in some quiet corner, — such as San Cassiano, where his estate was, — receiving daily intelligence from some sure friend, meanwhile, as to the turn matters were taking here . . . how, for instance, the Provost was not dead after all, only wounded . . . or, as to-day’s news would seem to prove, how Chiappino was not Brutus the Elder, after all, only the new Provost . . . and thus Luitolfo be enabled to watch a favourable opportunity for returning — might it not have been so?
3rd. Why, he may have taken that care of himself, certainly, for he came of a cautious stock. — I’ll tell you how his uncle, just such another gingerly treader on tiptoes with finger on lip, — how he met his death in the great plague-year: dico vobis! Hearing that the seventeenth house in a certain street was infected, he calculates to pass it in safety by taking plentiful breath, say, when he shall arrive at the eleventh house; then scouring by, holding that breath, till he be got so far on the other side as number twenty-three, and thus elude the danger. — And so did he begin — but, as he arrived at thirteen, we will say, — thinking to improve on his precaution by putting up a little prayer to St. Nepomucene of Prague, this exhausted so much of his lungs’ reserve, that at sixteen it was clean spent, — consequently at the fatal seventeen he inhaled with a vigour and persistence enough to suck you any latent venom out of the heart of a stone — Ha, ha!
Luit. [Aside.] (If I had not lent that man the money he wanted last spring, I should fear this bitterness was attributable to me). Luitolfo is dead then, one may conclude!
3rd. Why, he had a house here, and a woman to whom he was affianced; and as they both pass naturally to the new Provost, his friend and heir . . .
Luit. Ah, I suspected you of imposing on me with your pleasantry — I know Chiappino better!
1st. (Our friend has the bile! after all, I do not dislike finding somebody vary a little this general gape of admiration at Chiappino’s glorious qualities — .) Pray, how much may you know of what has taken place in Faenza since that memorable night?
Luit. It is most to the purpose, that I know Chiappino to have been by profession a hater of that very office of Provost, you now charge him with proposing to accept.
1st. Sir, I’ll tell you. That night was indeed memorable — up we rose, a mass of us, men, women, children — out fled the guards with the body of the tyrant — we were to defy the world: but, next grey morning, “What will Rome say,” began everybody — (you know we are governed by Ravenna, which is governed by Rome). And quietly into the town, by the Ravenna road, comes on muleback a portly personage
, Ogniben by name, with the quality of Pontifical Legate — trots briskly thro’ the streets humming a “Cur fremuêre gentes,” and makes directly for the Provost’s Palace — there it faces you — ”One Messer Chiappino is your leader? I have known three-and-twenty leaders of revolts!” (laughing gently to himself) — ”Give me the help of your arm from my mule to yonder steps under the pillar — So! And now, my revolters and good friends, what do you want? The guards burst into Ravenna last night bearing your wounded Provost — and, having had a little talk with him, I take on myself to come and try appease the disorderliness, before Rome, hearing of it, resort to another method; ‘tis I come, and not another, from a certain love I confess to, of composing differences. So, do you understand, you are about to experience this unheard-of tyranny from me, that there shall be no heading nor hanging, no confiscation nor exile, — I insist on your simply pleasing yourselves, — and now, pray, what does please you? To live without any government at all? Or having decided for one, to see its minister murdered by the first of your body that chooses to find himself wronged, or disposed for reverting to first principles and a Justice anterior to all institutions, — and so will you carry matters, that the rest of the world must at length unite and put down such a den of wild beasts? As for vengeance on what has just taken place, — once for all, the wounded man assures me he cannot conjecture who struck him — and this so earnestly, that one may be sure he knows perfectly well what intimate acquaintance could find admission to speak with him so late that evening — I come not for vengeance therefore, but from pure curiosity to hear what you will do next.” — And thus he ran on, easily and volubly, till he seemed to arrive quite naturally at the praise of Law, Order and Paternal Government by somebody from rather a distance: all our citizens were in the snare, and about to be friends with so congenial an adviser; but that Chiappino suddenly stood forth, spoke out indignantly, and set things right again . . .
Luit. Do you see? — I recognise him there!
3rd. Ay, but mark you, at the end of Chiappino’s longest period in praise of a pure Republic. “And by whom do I desire such a government should be administered, perhaps, but by one like yourself?” — returns the Legate — thereupon speaking, for a quarter of an hour together, on the natural and only legitimate government by the Best and Wisest — and it should seem there was soon discovered to be no such vast discrepancy at bottom between this and Chiappino’s theory, place but each in its proper light — ”Oh, are you there?” quoth Chiappino: — ”In that, I agree,” returns Chiappino, and so on.
Luit. But did Chiappino cede at once to this?
1st. Why, not altogether at once — for instance, he said that the difference between him and all his fellows was, that they seemed all wishing to be kings in one or another way, — whereas what right, asked he, has any man to wish to be superior to another? — whereat, “Ah Sir,” answers the Legate, “this is the death of me, so often as I expect something is really going to be revealed to us by you clearer-seers, deeper-thinkers — this — that your right-hand (to speak by a figure) should be found taking up the weapon it displayed so ostentatiously, not to destroy any dragon in our path, as was prophesied, but simply to cut off its own fellow left-hand — yourself set about attacking yourself — for see now! Here are you who, I make sure, glory exceedingly in knowing the noble nature of the soul, its divine impulses, and so forth; and with such a knowledge you stand, as it were, armed to encounter the natural doubts and fears as to that same inherent nobility, that, are apt to waylay us, the weaker ones, in the road of Life, — and when we look eagerly to see them fall before you, lo, round you wheel, only the left hand gets the blow; one proof of the soul’s nobility destroys simply another proof, quite as good, of the same, — you are found delivering an opinion like this! Why, what is this perpetual yearning to exceed, to subdue, to be better than, and a king over, one’s fellows, — all that you so disclaim, — but the very tendency yourself are most proud of, and under another form, would oppose to it, — only in a lower stage of manifestation? You don’t want to be vulgarly superior to your fellows after their poor fashion — to have me hold solemnly up your gown’s tail, or hand you an express of the last importance from the Pope, with all these bystanders noticing how unconcerned you look the while — but neither does our gaping friend, the burgess yonder, want the other kind of kingship, that consists in understanding better than his fellows this and similar points of human nature, nor to roll under the tongue this sweeter morsel still, the feeling that, thro’ immense philosophy, he does not feel, he rather thinks, above you and me:” — And so chatting, they glided off arm in arm.
Luit. And the result is . . .
1st. Why, that a month having gone by, the indomitable Chiappino, marrying as he will Luitolfo’s love — at all events succeeding to Luitolfo’s goods, — becomes the first inhabitant of Faenza, and a proper aspirant to the Provostship — which we assemble here to see conferred on him this morning. The Legate’s Guard to clear the way! He will follow presently!
Luit. [withdrawing a little]. I understand the drift of Eulalia’s communication less than ever — yet she surely said, in so many words, that Chiappino was in urgent danger, — wherefore, disregarding her injunctions to continue in my retreat and wait the result of, what she called, some experiment yet in process — I hastened here without her leave or knowledge — what could I else? — Yet if what they say be true . . . if it were for such a purpose, she and Chiappino kept me away . . . Oh, no, no! I must confront him and her before I believe this of them — and at the word, see!
Enter CHIAPPINO and EULALIA.
Eu. We part here, then? The change in your principles would seem to be complete!
Ch. Now, why refuse to see that in my present course I change no principles, only re-adapt them and more adroitly? I had despaired of what you may call the material instrumentality of Life; of ever being able to rightly operate on mankind thro’ such a deranged machinery as the existing modes of government — but now, if I suddenly discover how to inform these perverted institutions with fresh purpose, bring the functionary limbs once more into immediate communication with, and subjection to the soul I am about to bestow on them . . . do you see? Why should one desire to invent, so long as it remains possible to renew and transform? When all further hope of the old organisation shall be extinct, then, I grant you, it will be time to try and create another.
Eu. And there being discoverable some hope yet in the hitherto much-abused old system of absolute government by a Provost here, you mean to take your time about endeavouring to realise those visions of a perfect State, we once heard of?
Ch. Say, I would fain realise my conception of a Palace, for instance, and that there is, abstractedly, but a single way of erecting one perfectly; here, in the market-place is my allotted building-ground; here I stand without a stone to lay, or a labourer to help me, — stand, too, during a short day of life, close on which the night comes. On the other hand, circumstances suddenly offer me . . . turn and see it . . . the old Provost’s House to experiment upon — ruinous, if you please, wrongly constructed at the beginning, and ready to tumble now — but materials abound, a crowd of workmen offer their services; here, exists yet a Hall of Audience of originally noble proportions, there, a Guest-chamber of symmetrical design enough; and I may restore, enlarge, abolish or unite these to heart’s content — ought I not rather make the best of such an opportunity, than continue to gaze disconsolately with folded arms on the flat pavement here, while the sun goes slowly down, never to rise again? But you cannot understand this nor me: it is better we should part as you desire.
Eu. So the love breaks away too!
Ch. No, rather my soul’s capacity for love widens — needs more than one object to content it, — and, being better instructed, will not persist in seeing all the component parts of love in what is only a single part, — nor in finding the so many and so various loves, united in the love of a woman, — finding all uses in one instrument, as the savage
has his sword, sceptre and idol, all in one club-stick. Love is a very compound thing. I shall give the intellectual part of my love to Men, the mighty dead, or illustrious living and determine to call a mere sensual instinct by as few fine names as possible. What do I lose?
Eu. Nay, I only think, what do I lose! and, one more word — which shall complete my instruction — does Friendship go too? — What of Luitolfo — the author of your present prosperity?
Ch. How the author? —
Eu. That blow now called yours . . .
Ch. Struck without principle or purpose, as by a blind natural operation — and to which all my thoughts and life directly and advisedly tended. I would have struck it, and could not. He would have done his utmost to avoid striking it, yet did so. I dispute his right to that deed of mine — a final action with him, from the first effect of which he fled away — a mere first step with me, on which I base a whole mighty superstructure of good to follow. Could he get good from it?
Eu. So we profess, so we perform!
Enter OGNIBEN. EULALIA stands apart.
Ogni. I have seen three-and-twenty leaders of revolts! — By your leave, Sir! Perform? What does the lady say of Performing?
Ch. Only the trite saying, that we must not trust Profession, only Peformance.
Ogni. She’ll not say that, Sir, when she knows you longer; you’ll instruct her better. Ever judge of men by their professions! For tho’ the bright moment of promising is but a moment and cannot be prolonged, yet, if sincere in its moment’s extravagant goodness, why, trust it and know the man by it, I say — not by his performance — which is half the world’s work, interfere as the world needs must with its accidents and circumstances, — the profession was purely the man’s own! I judge people by what they might be, — not are, nor will be.
Ch. But have there not been found, too, performing natures, not merely promising?
Ogni. Plenty: little Bindo of our town, for instance, promised his friend, great ugly Masaccio, once, “I will repay you!” — for a favour done him: so when his father came to die, and Bindo succeeded to the inheritance, he sends straightway for Masaccio and shares all with him; gives him half the land, half the money, half the kegs of wine in the cellar. “Good,” say you — and it is good: but had little Bindo found himself possessor of all this wealth some five years before — on the happy night when Masaccio procured him that interview in the garden with his pretty cousin Lisa — instead of being the beggar he then was, — I am bound to believe that in the warm moment of promise he would have given away all the wine-kegs, and all the money, and all the land, and only reserved to himself some hut on a hill-top hard by, whence he might spend his life in looking and seeing his friend enjoy himself: he meant fully that much, but the world interfered! — To our business — did I understand you just now within-doors? You are not going to marry your old friend’s love, after all?
Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 294