Chapter 12

_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.

_Bar._ And have you confidence in such a project?

_Lor._ I have.

_Bar._ 'Tis hard upon his years.

_Lor._ Say rather Kind to relieve him from the cares of State.

_Bar._ 'Twill break his heart.

_Lor._ Age has no heart to break. He has seen his son's half broken, and, except A start of feeling in his dungeon, never Swerved.

_Bar._ In his countenance, I grant you, never; But I have seen him sometimes in a calm So desolate, that the most clamorous grief Had nought to envy him within. Where is he? 10

_Lor._ In his own portion of the palace, with His son, and the whole race of Foscaris.

_Bar._ Bidding farewell.

_Lor._ A last! as, soon, he shall Bid to his Dukedom.

_Bar._ When embarks the son?

_Lor._ Forthwith--when this long leave is taken. 'Tis Time to admonish them again.

_Bar._ Forbear; Retrench not from their moments.

_Lor._ Not I, now We have higher business for our own. This day Shall be the last of the old Doge's reign, As the first of his son's last banishment, 20 And that is vengeance.

_Bar._ In my mind, too deep.

_Lor._ 'Tis moderate--not even life for life, the rule Denounced of retribution from all time; They owe me still my father's and my uncle's.

_Bar._ Did not the Doge deny this strongly?

_Lor._ Doubtless.

_Bar._ And did not this shake your suspicion?

_Lor._ No.

_Bar._ But if this deposition should take place By our united influence in the Council, It must be done with all the deference Due to his years, his station, and his deeds. 30

_Lor._ As much of ceremony as you will, So that the thing be done. You may, for aught I care, depute the Council on their knees, (Like Barbarossa to the Pope,) to beg him To have the courtesy to abdicate.

_Bar._ What if he will not?

_Lor._ We'll elect another, And make him null.

_Bar._ But will the laws uphold us?[69]

_Lor._ What laws?--"The Ten" are laws; and if they were not, I will be legislator in this business.

_Bar._ At your own peril?

_Lor._ There is none, I tell you, 40 Our powers are such.

_Bar._ But he has twice already Solicited permission to retire, And twice it was refused.

_Lor._ The better reason To grant it the third time.

_Bar._ Unasked?

_Lor._ It shows The impression of his former instances: If they were from his heart, he may be thankful: If not, 'twill punish his hypocrisy. Come, they are met by this time; let us join them, And be _thou_ fixed in purpose for this once. I have prepared such arguments as will not 50 Fail to move them, and to remove him: since Their thoughts, their objects, have been sounded, do not _You_, with your wonted scruples, teach us pause, And all will prosper.

_Bar._ Could I but be certain This is no prelude to such persecution Of the sire as has fallen upon the son, I would support you.

_Lor._ He is safe, I tell you; His fourscore years and five may linger on As long as he can drag them: 'tis his throne Alone is aimed at.

_Bar._ But discarded Princes 60 Are seldom long of life.

_Lor._ And men of eighty More seldom still.

_Bar._ And why not wait these few years?

_Lor._ Because we have waited long enough, and he Lived longer than enough. Hence! in to council! [_Exeunt_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.

_Enter_ MEMMO[70] _and a Senator_.

_Sen._ A summons to "the Ten!" why so?

_Mem._ "The Ten" Alone can answer; they are rarely wont To let their thoughts anticipate their purpose By previous proclamation. We are summoned-- That is enough.

_Sen._ For them, but not for us; I would know why.

_Mem._ You will know why anon, 70 If you obey: and, if not, you no less Will know why you should have obeyed.

_Sen._ I mean not To oppose them, _but_----

_Mem._ In Venice "_but_"'s a traitor. But me no "_buts_" unless you would pass o'er The Bridge which few repass.[71]

_Sen._ I am silent.

_Mem._ Why Thus hesitate? "The Ten" have called in aid Of their deliberation five and twenty Patricians of the Senate--you are one, And I another; and it seems to me Both honoured by the choice or chance which leads us 80 To mingle with a body so august.

_Sen._ Most true. I say no more.

_Mem._ As we hope, Signor, And all may honestly, (that is, all those Of noble blood may,) one day hope to be Decemvir, it is surely for the Senate's[br] Chosen delegates, a school of wisdom, to Be thus admitted, though as novices, To view the mysteries.

_Sen._ Let us view them: they, No doubt, are worth it.

_Mem._ Being worth our lives If we divulge them, doubtless they are worth 90 Something, at least to you or me.

_Sen._ I sought not A place within the sanctuary; but being Chosen, however reluctantly so chosen, I shall fulfil my office.

_Mem._ Let us not Be latest in obeying "the Ten's" summons.

_Sen._ All are not met, but I am of your thought So far--let's in.

_Mem._ The earliest are most welcome In earnest councils--we will not be least so. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter the_ DOGE, JACOPO FOSCARI, _and_ MARINA.

_Jac. Fos._ Ah, father! though I must and will depart, Yet--yet--I pray you to obtain for me 100 That I once more return unto my home, Howe'er remote the period. Let there be A point of time, as beacon to my heart, With any penalty annexed they please, But let me still return.

_Doge_. Son Jacopo, Go and obey our Country's will:[72] 'tis not For us to look beyond.

_Jac. Fos._ But still I must Look back. I pray you think of me.

_Doge_. Alas! You ever were my dearest offspring, when They were more numerous, nor can be less so 110 Now you are last; but did the State demand The exile of the disinterréd ashes Of your three goodly brothers, now in earth,[73] And their desponding shades came flitting round To impede the act, I must no less obey A duty, paramount to every duty.

_Mar._ My husband! let us on: this but prolongs Our sorrow.

_Jac. Fos._ But we are not summoned yet; The galley's sails are not unfurled:--who knows? The wind may change.

_Mar._ And if it do, it will not 120 Change _their_ hearts, or your lot: the galley's oars Will quickly clear the harbour.

_Jac. Fos._ O, ye Elements! Where are your storms?

_Mar._ In human breasts. Alas! Will nothing calm you?

_Jac. Fos._ Never yet did mariner Put up to patron saint such prayers for prosperous And pleasant breezes, as I call upon you, Ye tutelar saints of my own city! which Ye love not with more holy love than I, To lash up from the deep the Adrian waves, And waken Auster, sovereign of the Tempest! 130 Till the sea dash me back on my own shore A broken corse upon the barren Lido, Where I may mingle with the sands which skirt The land I love, and never shall see more!

_Mar._ And wish you this with _me_ beside you?

_Jac. Fos._ No-- No--not for thee, too good, too kind! May'st thou Live long to be a mother to those children Thy fond fidelity for a time deprives Of such support! But for myself alone, May all the winds of Heaven howl down the Gulf, 140 And tear the vessel, till the mariners, Appalled, turn their despairing eyes on me, As the Phenicians did on Jonah, then Cast me out from amongst them, as an offering To appease the waves. The billow which destroys me Will be more merciful than man, and bear me Dead, but _still bear_ me to a native grave, From fishers' hands, upon the desolate strand, Which, of its thousand wrecks, hath ne'er received One lacerated like the heart which then 150 Will be.--But wherefore breaks it not? why live I?

_Mar._ To man thyself, I trust, with time, to master Such useless passion. Until now thou wert A sufferer, but not a loud one: why What is this to the things thou hast borne in silence-- Imprisonment and actual torture?

_Jac. Fos._ Double, Triple, and tenfold torture! But you are right, It must be borne. Father, your blessing.

_Doge_. Would It could avail thee! but no less thou hast it.

_Jac. Fos._ Forgive----

_Doge_. What?

_Jac. Fos._ My poor mother, for my birth, 160 And me for having lived, and you yourself (As I forgive you), for the gift of life, Which you bestowed upon me as my sire.

_Mar._ What hast thou done?

_Jac. Fos._ Nothing. I cannot charge My memory with much save sorrow: but I have been so beyond the common lot Chastened and visited, I needs must think That I was wicked. If it be so, may What I have undergone here keep me from A like hereafter!

_Mar._ Fear not: _that's_ reserved 170 For your oppressors.

_Jac. Fos._ Let me hope not.

_Mar._ Hope not?

_Jac. Fos._ I cannot wish them _all_ they have inflicted.

_Mar._ _All!_ the consummate fiends! A thousandfold May the worm which never dieth feed upon them!

_Jac. Fos._ They may repent.

_Mar._ And if they do, Heaven will not Accept the tardy penitence of demons.

_Enter an Officer and Guards_.

_Offi._ Signor! the boat is at the shore--the wind Is rising--we are ready to attend you.

_Jac. Fos._ And I to be attended. Once more, father, Your hand!

_Doge_. Take it. Alas! how thine own trembles! 180

_Jac. Fos._ No--you mistake; 'tis yours that shakes, my father. Farewell!

_Doge_. Farewell! Is there aught else?

_Jac. Fos._ No--nothing. [_To the Officer_. Lend me your arm, good Signor.

_Offi._ You turn pale-- Let me support you--paler--ho! some aid there! Some water!

_Mar._ Ah, he is dying!

_Jac. Fos._ Now, I'm ready-- My eyes swim strangely--where's the door?

_Mar._ Away! Let me support him--my best love! Oh, God! How faintly beats this heart--this pulse!

_Jac. Fos._ The light! _Is_ it the light?--I am faint. [_Officer presents him with water_.

_Offi._ He will be better, Perhaps, in the air.

_Jac. Fos._ I doubt not. Father--wife-- 190 Your hands!

_Mar._ There's death in that damp, clammy grasp.[74] Oh, God!--My Foscari, how fare you?

_Jac. Fos._ Well! [_He dies_.

_Offi._ He's gone!

_Doge_. He's free.

_Mar._ No--no, he is not dead; There must be life yet in that heart--he could not[bs] Thus leave me.

_Doge_. Daughter!

_Mar._ Hold thy peace, old man! I am no daughter now--thou hast no son. Oh, Foscari!

_Offi._ We must remove the body.

_Mar._ Touch it not, dungeon miscreants! your base office Ends with his life, and goes not beyond murder, Even by your murderous laws. Leave his remains 200 To those who know to honour them.

_Offi._ I must Inform the Signory, and learn their pleasure.

_Doge_. Inform the Signory from _me_, the Doge, They have no further power upon those ashes: While he lived, he was theirs, as fits a subject-- Now he is _mine_--my broken-hearted boy! [_Exit Officer_.

_Mar._ And I must live!

_Doge_. Your children live, Marina.

_Mar._ My children! true--they live, and I must live To bring them up to serve the State, and die As died their father. Oh! what best of blessings 210 Were barrenness in Venice! Would my mother Had been so!

_Doge_. My unhappy children!

_Mar._ What! _You_ feel it then at last--_you!_--Where is now The Stoic of the State?

_Doge_ (_throwing himself down by the body_). _Here!_

_Mar._ Aye, weep on! I thought you had no tears--you hoarded them Until they are useless; but weep on! he never Shall weep more--never, never more.

_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.

_Lor._ What's here?

_Mar._ Ah! the Devil come to insult the dead! Avaunt! Incarnate Lucifer! 'tis holy ground. A martyr's ashes now lie there, which make it 220 A shrine. Get thee back to thy place of torment!

_Bar._ Lady, we knew not of this sad event, But passed here merely on our path from council.

_Mar._ Pass on.

_Lor._ We sought the Doge.

_Mar._ (_pointing to the Doge, who is still on the ground by his son's body_) He's busy, look, About the business _you_ provided for him. Are ye content?

_Bar._ We will not interrupt A parent's sorrows.

_Mar._ No, ye only make them, Then leave them.

_Doge_ (_rising_). Sirs, I am ready.

_Bar._ No--not now.

_Lor._ Yet 'twas important.

_Doge_. If 'twas so, I can Only repeat--I am ready.

_Bar._ It shall not be 230 Just now, though Venice tottered o'er the deep Like a frail vessel. I respect your griefs.

_Doge_. I thank you. If the tidings which you bring Are evil, you may say them; nothing further Can touch me more than him thou look'st on there; If they be good, say on; you need not _fear_ That they can _comfort_ me.

_Bar._ I would they could!

_Doge_. I spoke not to _you_, but to Loredano. _He_ understands me.

_Mar._ Ah! I thought it would be so.

_Doge_. What mean you?

_Mar._ Lo! there is the blood beginning 240 To flow through the dead lips of Foscari-- The body bleeds in presence of the assassin. [_To_ LOREDANO. Thou cowardly murderer by law, behold How Death itself bears witness to thy deeds!

_Doge_. My child! this is a phantasy of grief. Bear hence the body. [_To his attendants_] Signors, if it please you, Within an hour I'll hear you.

[_Exeunt_ DOGE, MARINA, _and attendants with the body_. _Manent_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.

_Bar._ He must not Be troubled now.

_Lor._ He said himself that nought Could give him trouble farther.

_Bar._ These are words; But Grief is lonely, and the breaking in 250 Upon it barbarous.

_Lor._ Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world, Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.

_Bar._ And therefore You would deprive this old man of all business?

_Lor._ The thing's decreed. The Giunta[75] and "the Ten" Have made it law--who shall oppose that law?

_Bar._ Humanity!

_Lor._ Because his son is dead?

_Bar._ And yet unburied.

_Lor._ Had we known this when 260 The act was passing, it might have suspended Its passage, but impedes it not--once passed.

_Bar._ I'll not consent.

_Lor._ You have consented to All that's essential--leave the rest to me.

_Bar._ Why press his abdication now?

_Lor._ The feelings Of private passion may not interrupt The public benefit; and what the State Decides to-day must not give way before To-morrow for a natural accident.

_Bar._ You have a son.

_Lor._ I _have_--and _had_ a father. 270

_Bar._ Still so inexorable?

_Lor._ Still.

_Bar._ But let him Inter his son before we press upon him This edict.

_Lor._ Let him call up into life My sire and uncle--I consent. Men may, Even agéd men, be, or appear to be, Sires of a hundred sons, but cannot kindle An atom of their ancestors from earth. The victims are not equal; he has seen His sons expire by natural deaths, and I My sires by violent and mysterious maladies. 280 I used no poison, bribed no subtle master Of the destructive art of healing, to Shorten the path to the eternal cure. His sons--and he had four--are dead, without _My_ dabbling in vile drugs.

_Bar._ And art thou sure He dealt in such?

_Lor._ Most sure.

_Bar._ And yet he seems All openness.

_Lor._ And so he seemed not long Ago to Carmagnuola.

_Bar._ The attainted And foreign traitor?

_Lor._ Even so: when _he_, After the very night in which "the Ten" 290 (Joined with the Doge) decided his destruction, Met the great Duke at daybreak with a jest, Demanding whether he should augur him "The good day or good night?" his Doge-ship answered, "That he in truth had passed a night of vigil, In which" (he added with a gracious smile) "There often has been question about you."[76] 'Twas true; the question was the death resolved Of Carmagnuola, eight months ere he died; And the old Doge, who knew him doomed, smiled on him 300 With deadly cozenage, eight long months beforehand-- Eight months of such hypocrisy as is Learnt but in eighty years. Brave Carmagnuola Is dead; so is young Foscari and his brethren-- I never _smiled_ on _them_.

_Bar._ Was Carmagnuola Your friend?

_Lor._ He was the safeguard of the city. In early life its foe, but in his manhood, Its saviour first, then victim.

_Bar._ Ah! that seems The penalty of saving cities. He Whom we now act against not only saved 310 Our own, but added others to her sway.

_Lor._ The Romans (and we ape them) gave a crown To him who took a city: and they gave A crown to him who saved a citizen In battle: the rewards are equal. Now, If we should measure forth the cities taken By the Doge Foscari, with citizens Destroyed by him, or _through_ him, the account Were fearfully against him, although narrowed To private havoc, such as between him 320 And my dead father.

_Bar._ Are you then thus fixed?

_Lor._ Why, what should change me?

_Bar._ That which changes me. But you, I know, are marble to retain A feud. But when all is accomplished, when The old man is deposed, his name degraded, His sons all dead, his family depressed, And you and yours triumphant, shall you sleep?

_Lor._ More soundly.

_Bar._ That's an error, and you'll find it Ere you sleep with your fathers.

_Lor._ They sleep not In their accelerated graves, nor will 330 Till Foscari fills his. Each night I see them Stalk frowning round my couch, and, pointing towards The ducal palace, marshal me to vengeance.

_Bar._ Fancy's distemperature! There is no passion More spectral or fantastical than Hate; Not even its opposite, Love, so peoples air With phantoms, as this madness of the heart.

_Enter an Officer_.

_Lor._ Where go you, sirrah?

_Offi._ By the ducal order To forward the preparatory rites For the late Foscari's interment.

_Bar._ Their 340 Vault has been often opened of late years.

_Lor._ 'Twill be full soon, and may be closed for ever!

_Offi._ May I pass on?

_Lor._ You may.

_Bar._ How bears the Doge This last calamity?

_Offi._ With desperate firmness. In presence of another he says little, But I perceive his lips move now and then; And once or twice I heard him, from the adjoining Apartment, mutter forth the words--"My son!" Scarce audibly. I must proceed. [_Exit Officer_.

_Bar._ This stroke Will move all Venice in his favour.

_Lor._ Right! 350 We must be speedy: let us call together The delegates appointed to convey The Council's resolution.

_Bar._ I protest Against it at this moment.

_Lor._ As you please-- I'll take their voices on it ne'ertheless, And see whose most may sway them, yours or mine. [_Exeunt_ BARBARIGO _and_ LOREDANO.