Fiesco; or, the Genoese Conspiracy: A Tragedy

GIANETTINO looks after the DUKE, speechless with anger, LOMELLINO entering, breathless and terrified.

Lomellino. What have I seen! What have I heard! Fly, prince! Fly quickly! All is lost.

Gianettino. (with inward rage) What was there to lose?

Lomellino. Genoa, prince: I come from the market-place. The people were crowding round a Moor who was dragged along bound with cords. The Count of Lavagna, with above three hundred nobles, followed to the criminal court. The Moor had been employed to assassinate Fiesco, and in the attempt was seized.

Gianettino. (stamping violently on the ground) What, are all the devils of hell let loose at once?

Lomellino. They questioned him most strictly concerning his employer. The Moor confessed nothing. They tried the first degree of torture. Still he confessed nothing. They put him to the second. Then he spoke-- he spoke. My gracious lord, how could you trust your honor to such a villain?

Gianettino. (fiercely) Ask me no question?

Lomellino. Hear the rest! Scarcely was the word Doria uttered--I would sooner have seen my name inscribed in the infernal register than have heard yours thus mentioned--scarcely was it uttered when Fiesco showed himself to the people. You know the man--how winningly he pleads--how he is wont to play the usurer with the hearts of the multitude. The whole assembly hung upon his looks, breathless with indignation. He spoke little, but bared his bleeding arm. The crowd contended for the falling drops as if for sacred relics. The Moor was given up to his disposal-- and Fiesco--a mortal blow for us! Fiesco pardoned him. Now the confined anger of the people burst forth in one tumultuous clamor. Each breath annihilated a Doria, and Fiesco was borne home amidst a thousand joyful acclamations.

Gianettino. (with a ferocious laugh) Let the flood of tumult swell up to my very throat. The emperor! That sound alone shall strike them to the earth, so that not a murmur shall be heard in Genoa.

Lomellino. Bohemia is far from hence. If the emperor come speedily he may perhaps be present at your funeral feast.

Gianettino. (drawing forth a letter with a great seal) 'Tis fortunate that he is here already. Art thou surprised at this? And didst thou think me mad enough to brave the fury of enraged republicans had I not known they were betrayed and sold?

Lomellino. (with astonishment) I know not what to think!

Gianettino. But I have thought of something which thou couldst not know. My plan is formed. Ere two days are past twelve senators must fall. Doria becomes sovereign, and the Emperor Charles protects him. Thou seemest astonished----

Lomellino. Twelve senators! My heart is too narrow to comprehend a twelvefold murder.

Gianettino. Fool that thou art! The throne will absolve the deed. I consulted with the ministers of Charles on the strong party which France still has in Genoa, and by which she might a second time seize on it unless they should be rooted out. This worked upon the emperor--he approved my projects--and thou shalt write what I will dictate to thee.

Lomellino. I know not yet your purpose.

Gianettino. Sit down and write----

Lomellino. But what am I to write? (Seats himself.)

Gianettino. The names of the twelve candidates for death--Francis Zenturione.

Lomellino. (writes) In gratitude for his vote he leads the funeral procession.

Gianettino. Cornelio Calva.

Lomellino. Calva.

Gianettino. Michael Zibo.

Lomellino. To cool him after his disappointment in the procuratorship.

Gianettino. Thomas Asserato and his three brothers. (LOMELLINO stops.)

Gianettino. (forcibly) And his three brothers----

Lomellino. (writes) Go on.

Gianettino. Fiesco of Lavagna.

Lomellino. Have a care! Have a care! That black stone will yet prove fatal to you.

Gianettino. Scipio Bourgognino.

Lomellino. He may celebrate elsewhere his wedding----

Gianettino. Ay, where I shall be director of the nuptials. Raphael Sacco.

Lomellino. I should intercede for his life until he shall have paid my five thousand crowns. (Writes.) Death strikes the balance.

Gianettino. Vincent Calcagno.

Lomellino. Calcagno. The twelfth I write at my own risk, unless our mortal enemy be overlooked.

Gianettino. The end crowns all--Joseph Verrina.

Lomellino. He is the very head of the viper that threatens us. (Rises and presents the paper to GIANETTINO.) Two days hence death shall make a splendid feast, at which twelve of the chief of Genoa's nobles will be present.

Gianettino. (signs the paper) 'Tis done. Two days hence will be the ducal election. When the senate shall be assembled for that purpose these twelve shall, on the signal of a handkerchief, be suddenly laid low. My two hundred Germans will have surrounded the senate-house. At that moment I enter and claim homage as the Duke. (Rings the bell.)

Lomellino. And what of Andreas?

Gianettino. (contemptuously) He is an old man. (Enter a servant.) If the Duke should ask for me say I am gone to mass. (Exit servant.) I must conceal the devil that's within beneath a saintly garb.

Lomellino. But, my lord, the paper?

Gianettino. Take it, and let it be circulated among our party. This letter must be dispatched by express to Levanto. 'Tis to inform Spinola of our intended plan, and bid him reach the capital early in the morning. (Going.)

Lomellino. Stop, prince. There is an error in our calculation. Fiesco does not attend the senate.

Gianettino. (looking back) Genoa will easily supply one more assassin. I'll see to that.

[Exeunt different ways.

SCENE XV.-An Ante-chamber in FIESCO'S Palace.

FIESCO, with papers before him, and MOOR.

Fiesco. Four galleys have entered the harbor, dost say?

Moor. Yes, they're at anchor in the port.

Fiesco. That's well. Whence are these expresses?

Moor. From Rome, Placentia, and France.

Fiesco. (opens the letters and runs over them) Welcome! welcome news! (In high spirits.) Let the messengers be treated in a princely manner.

Moor. Hem! (Going.).

Fiesco. Stop, stop! Here's work for thee in plenty.

Moor. Command me. I am ready to act the setter or the bloodhound.

Fiesco. I only want at present the voice of the decoy-bird. To-morrow early two thousand men will enter the city in disguise to engage in my service. Distribute thy assistants at the gates, and let them keep a watchful eye upon the strangers that arrive. Some will be dressed like pilgrims on their journey to Loretto, others like mendicant friars, or Savoyards, or actors; some as peddlers and musicians; but the most as disbanded soldiers coming to seek a livelihood in Genoa. Let every one be asked where he takes up his lodging. If he answer at the Golden Snake, let him be treated as a friend and shown my habitation. But remember, sirrah, I rely upon thy prudence.

Moor. Sir, as securely as upon my knavery. If a single head escape me, pluck out my eyes and shoot at sparrows with them. (Going.)

Fiesco. Stop! I've another piece of business for thee. The arrival of the galleys will excite suspicion in the city. If any one inquire of thee about them, say thou hast heard it rumored that thy master intends to cruise against the Turks. Dost thou understand me?

Moor. Yes, yes--the beards of the Mussulmen at the masthead, but the devil for a steersman. (Going.)

Fiesco. Gently--one more precaution. Gianettino has new reasons to hate me and lay snares against my life. Go--sound the fellows of thy trade; see if thou canst not smell out some plot on foot against me. Visit the brothels--Doria often frequents them. The secrets of the cabinet are sometimes lodged within the folds of a petticoat. Promise these ladies golden customers. Promise them thy master. Let nothing be too sacred to be used in gaining the desired information.

Moor. Ha! luckily I am acquainted with one Diana Buononi, whom I have served above a year as procurer. The other day I saw the Signor Lomellino coming out of her house.

Fiesco. That suits my purpose well. This very Lomellino is the key to all Doria's follies. To-morrow thou shalt go thither. Perhaps he is to-night the Endymion of this chaste Diana.

Moor. One more question, my lord. Suppose the people ask me--and that they will, I'll pawn my soul upon it--suppose they ask, "What does Fiesco think of Genoa?" Would you still wear the mask?--or--how shall I answer them?

Fiesco. Answer? Hum! The fruit is ripe. The pains of labor announce the approaching birth. Answer that Genoa lies upon the block, and that thy master's name is--John Louis Fiesco----

Moor. (with an air of satisfaction) That, by my rogue's honor, shall be done to your heart's content. Now be wide awake, friend Hassan! First to a tavern! My feet have work enough cut out for them. I must coax my stomach to intercede with my legs. (Hastening away--returns.) Oh, apropos! My chattering made me almost forget one circumstance. You wished to know what passed between Calcagno and your wife. A refusal, sir--that's all.

[Runs off.