That all should be made clear; to tell the ladies
That I request their presence. [Exit BERNARDO.
[Enter Guards bringing in MARZIO.
Guard. We have one.
80 Officer. My Lord, we found this ruffian and another
Lurking among the rocks; there is no doubt
But that they are the murderers of Count Cenci:
Each had a bag of coin; this fellow wore
A gold-inwoven robe, which shining bright
85Under the dark rocks to the glimmering moon
Betrayed them to our notice: the other fell
Desperately fighting.
Savella. What does he confess?
Officer. He keeps firm silence; but these lines found on him
May speak.
Savella. Their language is at least sincere. [Reads.
‘TO THE LADY BEATRICE.
90That the atonement of what my nature
Sickens to conjecture may soon arrive,
I send thee, at thy brother’s desire, those
Who will speak and do more than I dare
Write …
Thy devoted servant, Orsino.’
[Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and BERNARDO.
95Knowest thou this writing, Lady?
Beatrice. No.
Savella. Nor thou?
Lucretia. (Her conduct throughout the scene is marked by extreme agitation.)
Where was it found? What is it? It should be
Orsino’s hand! It speaks of that strange horror
Which never yet found utterance, but which made
Between that hapless child and her dead father
100A gulph of obscure hatred.
Savella. Is it so?
Is it true, Lady, that thy father did
Such outrages as to awaken in thee
Unfilial hate?
Beatrice. Not hate, ’twas more than hate:
This is most true, yet wherefore question me?
105 Savella. There is a deed demanding question done;
Thou hast a secret which will answer not.
Beatrice. What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold and rash.
Savella. I do arrest all present in the name
Of the Pope’s Holiness. You must to Rome.
110 Lucretia. O, not to Rome! Indeed we are not guilty.
Beatrice. Guilty! Who dares talk of guilt? My Lord,
I am more innocent of parricide
Than is a child born fatherless … Dear Mother,
Your gentleness and patience are no shield
115For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie,
Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws,
Rather will ye who are their ministers,
Bar all access to retribution first,
And then, when heaven doth interpose to do
120What ye neglect, arming familiar things
To the redress of an unwonted crime,
Make ye the victims who demanded it
Culprits? ’Tis ye are culprits! That poor wretch
Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed,
125If it be true he murdered Cenci, was
A sword in the right hand of justest God.
Wherefore should I have wielded it? Unless
The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name
God therefore scruples to avenge.
Savella. You own
130That you desired his death?
Beatrice. It would have been
A crime no less than his, if for one moment
That fierce desire had faded in my heart.
’Tis true I did believe, and hope, and pray,
Aye, I even knew … for God is wise and just,
135That some strange sudden death hung over him.
’Tis true that this did happen, and most true
There was no other rest for me on earth,
No other hope in Heaven … now what of this?
Savella. Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here are both:
I judge thee not.
140 Beatrice. And yet, if you arrest me,
You are the judge and executioner
Of that which is the life of life: the breath
Of accusation kills an innocent name,
And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life
145Which is a mask without it. ’Tis most false
That I am guilty of foul parricide;
Although I must rejoice, for justest cause,
That other hands have sent my father’s soul
To ask the mercy he denied to me.
150Now leave us free: stain not a noble house
With vague surmises of rejected crime;
Add to our sufferings and your own neglect
No heavier sum: let them have been enough:
Leave us the wreck we have.
Savella. I dare not, Lady.
155I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome:
There the Pope’s further pleasure will be known.
Lucretia. O, not to Rome! O, take us not to Rome!
Beatrice. Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as here
Our innocence is as an armed heel
160To trample accusation. God is there
As here, and with his shadow ever clothes
The innocent, the injured and the weak;
And such are we. Cheer up, dear Lady, lean
On me; collect your wandering thoughts. My Lord,
165As soon as you have taken some refreshment,
And had all such examinations made
Upon the spot, as may be necessary
To the full understanding of this matter,
We shall be ready. Mother; will you come?
170 Lucretia. Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest
Self-accusation from our agony!
Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio?
All present; all confronted; all demanding
Each from the other’s countenance the thing
175Which is in every heart! O, misery!
[She faints, and is borne out.
Savella. She faints: an ill appearance this.
Beatrice. My Lord,
She knows not yet the uses of the world.
She fears that power is as a beast which grasps
And loosens not: a snake whose look transmutes
180All things to guilt which is its nutriment.
She cannot know how well the supine slaves
Of blind authority read the truth of things
When written on a brow of guilelessness:
She sees not yet triumphant Innocence
185Stand at the judgement-seat of mortal man,
A judge and an accuser of the wrong
Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord;
Our suite will join yours in the court below. [Exeunt.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
ACT V
SCENE I.—An apartment in ORSINO’s Palace. Enter ORSINO and GIACOMO.
Giacomo. Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end?
O, that the vain remorse which must chastise
Crimes done, had but as loud a voice to warn
As its keen sting is mortal to avenge!
5O, that the hour when present had cast off
The mantle of its mystery, and shewn
The ghastly form with which it now returns
When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds
Of conscience to their prey! Alas! Alas!
10It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed,
To kill an old and hoary-headed father.
Orsino. It has turned out unluckily, in truth.
Giacomo. To violate the sacred doors of sleep;
To cheat kind nature of the placid death
15Which she prepares for overwearied age;
To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul
Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers
A life of burning crimes …
Orsino. You cannot say
I urged you to the deed.
Giacomo. O, had I never
20Found in thy smooth and ready countenance
The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou
Never with hints and questions made me look
Upon the monster of my thought, until
It grew familiar to desire …
Orsino. ’Tis thus
25Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts
Upon the abettors of their own resolve;
Or any thing but their weak, guilty selves.
And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril
In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness
30Of penitence; Confess ’tis fear disguised
From its own shame that takes the mantle now
Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe?
Giacomo. How can that be? Already Beatrice,
Lucretia and the murderer are in prison.
35I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak,
Sent to arrest us.
Orsino. I have all prepared
For instant flight. We can escape even now,
So we take fleet occasion by the hair.
Giacomo. Rather expire in tortures, as I may.
40What! will you cast by self-accusing flight
Assured conviction upon Beatrice?
She, who alone in this unnatural work,
Stands like God’s angel ministered upon
By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong
45As turns black parricide to piety;
Whilst we for basest ends … I fear, Orsino,
While I consider all your words and looks,
Comparing them with your proposal now,
That you must be a villain. For what end
50Could you engage in such a perilous crime,
Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles,
Even to this gulph? Thou art no liar? No,
Thou art a lie! Traitor and murderer!
Coward and slave! But, no, defend thyself; [Drawing.
55Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue
Disdains to brand thee with.
Orsino. Put up your weapon.
Is it the desperation of your fear
Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend,
Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger
60Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed
Was but to try you. As for me, I think,
Thankless affection led me to this point,
From which, if my firm temper could repent,
I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak
65The ministers of justice wait below:
They grant me these brief moments. Now if you
Have any word of melancholy comfort
To speak to your pale wife, ’twere best to pass
Out at the postern, and avoid them so.
70 Giacomo. O, generous friend! How canst thou pardon me?
Would that my life could purchase thine!
Orsino. That wish
Now comes a day too late. Haste; fare thee well!
Hear’st thou not steps along the corridor? [Exit GIACOMO.
I’m sorry for it; but the guards are waiting
75At his own gate, and such was my contrivance
That I might rid me both of him and them.
I thought to act a solemn comedy
Upon the painted scene of this new world,
And to attain my own peculiar ends
80By some such plot of mingled good and ill
As others weave; but there arose a Power
Which graspt and snapped the threads of my device
And turned it to a net of ruin … Ha! [A shout is heard.
Is that my name I hear proclaimed abroad?
85But I will pass, wrapt in a vile disguise;
Rags on my back, and a false innocence
Upon my face, thro’ the misdeeming crowd
Which judges by what seems. ’Tis easy then
For a new name and for a country new,
90And a new life, fashioned on old desires,
To change the honours of abandoned Rome.
And these must be the masks of that within,
Which must remain unaltered … Oh, I fear
That what is past will never let me rest!
95Why, when none else is conscious, but myself,
Of my misdeeds, should my own heart’s contempt
Trouble me? Have I not the power to fly
My own reproaches? Shall I be the slave
Of … what? A word? which those of this false world
100Employ against each other, not themselves;
As men wear daggers not for self-offence.
But if I am mistaken, where shall I
Find the disguise to hide me from myself,
As now I skulk from every other eye? [Exit.
SCENE II.—A Hall of Justice. CAMILLO, Judges, etc., are discovered seated; MARZIO is led in.
First Judge. Accused, do you persist in your denial?
I ask you, are you innocent, or guilty?
I demand who were the participators
In your offence? Speak truth and the whole truth.
5 Marzio. My God! I did not kill him; I know nothing;
Olimpio sold the robe to me from which
You would infer my guilt.
Second Judge. Away with him!
First Judge. Dare you, with lips yet white from the rack’s kiss
Speak false? Is it so soft a questioner,
10That you would bandy lover’s talk with it
Till it wind out your life and soul? Away!
Marzio. Spare me! O, spare! I will confess.
First Judge. Then speak.
Marzio. I strangled him in his sleep.
First Judge. Who urged you to it?
Marzio. His own son Giacomo, and the young prelate
15Orsino sent me to Petrella; there
The ladies Beatrice and Lucretia
Tempted me with a thousand crowns, and I
And my companion forthwith murdered him.
Now let me die.
First Judge. This sounds as bad as truth. Guards, there,
20Lead forth the prisoners!
[Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and GIACOMO, guarded.
Look upon this man;
When did you see him last?
Beatrice. We never saw him.
Marzio. You know me too well, Lady Beatrice.
Beatrice. I know thee! How? where? when?
Marzio. You know ’twas I
Whom you did urge with menaces and bribes
25To kill your father. When the thing was done
You clothed me in a robe of woven gold
And bade me thrive: how I have thriven, you see.
You, my Lord Giacomo, Lady Lucretia,
You know that what I speak is true.
[BEATRICE advances towards him; he covers his face, and shrinks back.
O, dart
30The terrible resentment of those eyes
On the dead earth! Turn them away from me!
They wound: ’twas torture forced the truth. My Lords,
Having said this let me be led to death.
Beatrice. Poor wretch, I pity thee: yet stay awhile.
35 Camillo. Guards, lead him not away.
Beatrice. Cardinal Camillo,
You have a good repute for gentleness
And wisdom: can it be that you sit here
To countenance a wicked farce like this?
When some obscure and trembling sla
ve is dragged
40From sufferings which might shake the sternest heart
And bade to answer, not as he believes,
But as those may suspect or do desire
Whose questions thence suggest their own reply:
And that in peril of such hideous torments
45As merciful God spares even the damned. Speak now
The thing you surely know, which is that you,
If your fine frame were stretched upon that wheel,
And you were told: ‘Confess that you did poison
Your little nephew; that fair blue-eyed child
50Who was the loadstar of your life’:—and though
All see, since his most swift and piteous death,
That day and night, and heaven and earth, and time,
And all the things hoped for or done therein
Are changed to you, through your exceeding grief,
55Yet you would say, ‘I confess any thing’:
And beg from your tormentors, like that slave,
The refuge of dishonourable death.
I pray thee, Cardinal, that thou assert
My innocence.
Camillo (much moved). What shall we think, my Lords?
60Shame on these tears! I thought the heart was frozen
Which is their fountain. I would pledge my soul
That she is guiltless.
Judge. Yet she must be tortured.
Camillo. I would as soon have tortured mine own nephew
(If he now lived he would be just her age;
65His hair, too, was her colour, and his eyes
Like hers in shape, but blue and not so deep)
As that most perfect image of God’s love
That ever came sorrowing upon the earth.
She is as pure as speechless infancy!
70 Judge. Well, be her purity on your head, my Lord,
If you forbid the rack. His Holiness
Enjoined us to pursue this monstrous crime
By the severest forms of law; nay even
To stretch a point against the criminals.
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