The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor Part 13

_Pri._ What say you my son?

_Venoni._ (_pa.s.sionately_) I say, that one is love! and I say the truth!

father, I have engaged to renounce the world, to descend alive into the tomb; but I have not engaged to forget that I had, that I still have, a heart; that that heart is broken; that it burns, and will burn till it ceases to beat, with a pa.s.sion which heaven cannot blame, since it was an angel who inspired it! I have told you, that her image would accompany me even to the altar's foot; I have told you that I would give up the world, but would never give up her; her who exists no longer except in this sad heart, this heart, where she shall never cease to exist-- till I do!

_Vice._ Dear unfortunate youth!

_Venoni._ Unfortunate, say you? oh, no! the day of misfortune, the day of despair was that when I heard the death-bell sound, and they told me-- twas for her! when I asked for whom was that funeral bier, and they told me-- twas for her! but from that hour I ceased to suffer. It's true, my heart-- all there is a devouring fire-- my brain-- all there is confusion and clouds: but that fire, it was she who first kindled it!

but among these gloomy clouds, she is the only object which I still perceive distinctly-- she is there, near me, always there; I see her, I speak to her, she replies to me-- oh! judge then, my friend, whether with justice I can be called unfortunate! (_sinking into the viceroy's arms_)

_Mar._ Two victims! Hortensia, two victims! one has already perished, and the other--

_Hor._ (_greatly affected_) Oh! spare me, my husband! could I have forseen-- never, never shall I cease to reproach myself--

_Pri._ My daughter, this trial is too severe for sensibility like yours.

Let me entreat you, retire, and compose your mind!

_Hor._ You are right, father; you shall be obeyed. Venoni-- farewell, Venoni! (_going_)

_Venoni._ (_starting forward with a frantic look, and grasping her by the arm_) Hold! you must not leave me yet! first tell me, why was the marriage so long delayed? why were your orders given, that Josepha should not see me at the convent? answer me-- I will be answered!

_Pri._ My son, my son! you will make me repent that I allowed this interview-- let us retire!

_Venoni._ (_violently_) No, no, no! I will stay here-- here (_with affection, and embracing the marquis_) with my father. (_returning to Hortensia_) Answer me!

_Hor._ (_terrified_) Venoni! for heaven's sake! have mercy!

_Venoni._ (_furious_) Mercy? had you mercy upon me?

_Pri._ Venoni! follow me this instant! I command you!

_Venoni._ (_violently but firmly_) Tomorrow I will obey you; today I am still free! (_to Hortensia_) Answer, or-- (_turning suddenly to the marquis, while he releases Hortensia, who throws herself on a couch, and weeps_) You know it well, my father, she was inexorable! you, you pitied me; but your wife saw my anguish, and her eye was still dry, and her heart was still marble! she opposed your granting me permission to see Josepha; she even insisted on your resuming that permission; but I rushed from her presence-- I hastened to Messina-- to the Ursuline convent-- as I approached it, the death-bell tolled! the sound echoed to the very bottom of my soul, every stroke seemed to fall upon my heart!

I trembled, my blood ran cold-- (_in a faltering voice_) "who is dead?"

(_with a loud burst of agony_) She, she! your daughter; my betrothed! my brain whirled round and round-- I rushed into the chapel-- a bier-- a coffin-- it inclosed your daughter! my betrothed, my happiness, my life!

I sprang towards it-- I extended my arms to clasp it, what followed I know not; I was at peace, I was happy, I had ceased to feel: but oh! the barbarians, they restored me to sense, and twas only to the sense of misery! (_he falls weeping upon the viceroy's neck_)

_Hor._ Every word he utters-- seems a dagger to my heart!

_Pri._ (_aside_) Ah! how I repent!

_Venoni._ (_recovering, and looking round_) Twas here-- in this very room-- that I have pa.s.sed so many happy, happy hours? twas here that I received your sanction to our union; twas in yon alcove, that I endeavoured to transmit to canvas Josepha's features-- features impressed upon my heart indelibly! love guided my pencil-- that portrait-- tis there! tis she! tis Josepha! (_he suddenly draws away the curtain, and discovers a picture of Josepha at full length-- the prior stands forward on the scene, his hands tremble with pa.s.sion, and his countenance expresses extreme vexation and stifled rage-- on the picture's being discovered, Hortensia springs forward, sinks on her knees, and extends her arms towards, it-- the marquis turns away from the picture, towards which his left hand points, while he hides his face on the viceroy's bosom; the viceroy stands in an att.i.tude of grief with his arms extended towards the picture; he and the marquis are rather behind the other persons-- Venoni stands before the picture, which is to the left of the audience, and gazes upon it with rapture_)

_Hor._ My child! my child!

_Mar._ My Josepha!

_Pri._ (_aside_) Oh rage!

_Hor._ I expire! (_Venoni on hearing Hortensia's last exclamation, turns round, hastens to raise her from her kneeling att.i.tude, places her on the couch, and throws himself at her feet_)

_Venoni._ You weep? you repent?-- ah! then my resentment is over, and I find my mother once more! (_kissing her hand affectionately, and in the gentlest voice_) Look on me, my mother! cast on me one kind look; twill be the last; you will never see the wretched frantic youth again-- tomorrow-- oh! Hortensia, before we part for ever, tell me that you forgive me-- tell me, that you do not hate me for having thus wounded your feelings-- for having inflicted on you this unnecessary pain!

_Hor._ (_embracing him pa.s.sionately as he kneels_) Forgive you? yes, yes my son! my beloved son! I pardon you---- heaven knows, I pardon you-- and oh! in return may heaven and you pardon me!

_Pri._ (_aside_) Ah! how I suffer!

_Venoni._ I thank you! tis enough! now then I have no more to do with the world! (_to the prior_) good father, your pardon: I offended you even now; I remember it well.

_Prior._ (_embracing him with dissembled affection_) And I, my son, had already forgotten it-- but tis time for us to retire-- come!

_Venoni._ Yes, yes! let us away-- farewell, my friends! my mother, farewell! I shall never see you more; but you will never cease to be dear to me; never, never!-- and you too, my Josepha-- farewell! for a little while farewell! whom death hath divided, death shall soon re-unite-- come, father, come!-- farewell! bless you, bless you: oh!

come, come, come! (_during this speech, his voice grows fainter; he leans on the prior, who conducts him slowly towards the door; at the end of the speech he sinks totally exhausted on the bosom of the prior, who conveys him away; while the viceroy and marquis lead off Hortensia on the other side_).

_End of Act I._

ACT II.

SCENE I.-- _The gardens of St. Mark-- in the background is a gothic chapel, to which is a flight of steps; adjoining is the cemetery of the Ursuline convent, and several tombs are visible through a large iron gate._

[Vespers are performing in the chapel; the last words are chanted, while the curtain rises-- the organ plays a voluntary, while the prior and his monks, descend from the chapel in procession. Father _Jeronymo_ enters hastily, and accosts the prior, who comes forward; he starts at the information given him, and hastily bestows his benediction on the monks, who go off.]

_Prior._ Father Michael, say you? he wishes to see father Michael?

_Jeronymo._ Wishes? nay, he insists upon seeing him.

_Prior._ What business can he have with father Michael? what connexion can possibly subsist between them? how should it be even known to the viceroy, that such a being as father Michael exists?

_Jer._ On these points I can give you no information-- yet now I recollect, that this very morning I observed a friar, whose air greatly resembled father Michael's loitering about the viceroy's palace.

_Prior._ Indeed! Jeronymo, I have long suspected this Michael to be a false brother; there is an affectation of rigid principles about him-- of philosophical abstinence-- of reserve respecting his own conduct and of vigilance respecting that of others, which make me look on him as a dangerous inmate of our house. However, he has not yet encountered the viceroy?

_Jer._ Fortunately, it was to me that count Benvolio expressed his wish to see this friar. I promised to go in search of him, and instantly commanded father Michael, in your name, not to presume till further orders to set his foot beyond the precincts of his cell. I then returned, to inform the viceroy, with pretended regret, that the person whom he desired to see was not at that time to be found in the monastery.

_Prior._ Good!

_Jer._ He appeared much disappointed, and announced his intention of waiting the friar's return. I was compelled to promise, that as soon as he should re-enter these walls, father Michael should be sent to him.

_Prior._ The viceroy then is still here?

_Jer._ He is: I left him in the garden parlour adjoining the refectory.

_Prior._ No matter: night approaches, and then he will be compelled to withdraw. Yet that he should rather desire to see father Michael than Venoni-- that, I own, appears to me unaccountable. I was prepared for his endeavouring to obtain another sight of his friend, and using every possible means to disgust him with the idea of renouncing the world for ever. Secure of my influence over Venoni, absolute master of his understanding, and feeling my own strength in the knowledge of his weakness, I meant not to object to their interviews; and would have suffered count Benvolio to exert all his efforts freely, convinced that all his efforts would have been exerted in vain.

_Jer._ And in acting thus, you would have done wisely: else, if the viceroy had been denied admittance to his friend, he might have spread abroad, that you feared lest his arguments should dispel Venoni's illusion.