The Cenci: Act 1
SCENE 1.1:
AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE. ENTER COUNT CENCI AND CARDINAL CAMILLO.
CAMILLO:
That matter of the murder is hushed up If you consent to yield his Holiness Your fief that lies beyond the Pincian gate.-- It needed all my interest in the conclave To bend him to this point; he said that you _5 Bought perilous impunity with your gold; That crimes like yours if once or twice compounded Enriched the Church, and respited from hell An erring soul which might repent and live: -- But that the glory and the interest _10 Of the high throne he fills, little consist With making it a daily mart of guilt As manifold and hideous as the deeds Which you scarce hide from men's revolted eyes.
CENCI:
The third of my possessions--let it go! _15 Ay, I once heard the nephew of the Pope Had sent his architect to view the ground, Meaning to build a villa on my vines The next time I compounded with his uncle: I little thought he should outwit me so! _20 Henceforth no witness--not the lamp--shall see That which the vassal threatened to divulge Whose throat is choked with dust for his reward. The deed he saw could not have rated higher Than his most worthless life:--it angers me! _25 Respited me from Hell! So may the Devil Respite their souls from Heaven! No doubt Pope Clement, And his most charitable nephews, pray That the Apostle Peter and the Saints Will grant for their sake that I long enjoy _30 Strength, wealth, and pride, and lust, and length of days Wherein to act the deeds which are the stewards Of their revenue.--But much yet remains To which they show no title.
CAMILLO:
Oh, Count Cenci! So much that thou mightst honourably live _35 And reconcile thyself with thine own heart And with thy God, and with the offended world. How hideously look deeds of lust and blood Through those snow white and venerable hairs!-- Your children should be sitting round you now, _40 But that you fear to read upon their looks The shame and misery you have written there. Where is your wife? Where is your gentle daughter? Methinks her sweet looks, which make all things else Beauteous and glad, might kill the fiend within you. _45 Why is she barred from all society But her own strange and uncomplaining wrongs? Talk with me, Count,--you know I mean you well. I stood beside your dark and fiery youth Watching its bold and bad career, as men _50 Watch meteors, but it vanished not--I marked Your desperate and remorseless manhood; now Do I behold you in dishonoured age Charged with a thousand unrepented crimes. Yet I have ever hoped you would amend, _55 And in that hope have saved your life three times.
CENCI:
For which Aldobrandino owes you now My fief beyond the Pincian.--Cardinal, One thing, I pray you, recollect henceforth, And so we shall converse with less restraint. _60 A man you knew spoke of my wife and daughter-- He was accustomed to frequent my house; So the next day HIS wife and daughter came And asked if I had seen him; and I smiled: I think they never saw him any more. _65
CAMILLO:
Thou execrable man, beware!--
CENCI:
Of thee? Nay, this is idle: --We should know each other. As to my character for what men call crime Seeing I please my senses as I list, And vindicate that right with force or guile, _70 It is a public matter, and I care not If I discuss it with you. I may speak Alike to you and my own conscious heart-- For you give out that you have half reformed me, Therefore strong vanity will keep you silent _75 If fear should not; both will, I do not doubt. All men delight in sensual luxury, All men enjoy revenge; and most exult Over the tortures they can never feel-- Flattering their secret peace with others' pain. _80 But I delight in nothing else. I love The sight of agony, and the sense of joy, When this shall be another's, and that mine. And I have no remorse and little fear, Which are, I think, the checks of other men. _85 This mood has grown upon me, until now Any design my captious fancy makes The picture of its wish, and it forms none But such as men like you would start to know, Is as my natural food and rest debarred _90 Until it be accomplished.
CAMILLO:
Art thou not Most miserable?
CENCI:
Why miserable?-- No.--I am what your theologians call Hardened;--which they must be in impudence, So to revile a man's peculiar taste. _95 True, I was happier than I am, while yet Manhood remained to act the thing I thought; While lust was sweeter than revenge; and now Invention palls:--Ay, we must all grow old-- And but that there remains a deed to act _100 Whose horror might make sharp an appetite Duller than mine--I'd do,--I know not what. When I was young I thought of nothing else But pleasure; and I fed on honey sweets: Men, by St. Thomas! cannot live like bees, _105 And I grew tired:--yet, till I killed a foe, And heard his groans, and heard his children's groans, Knew I not what delight was else on earth, Which now delights me little. I the rather Look on such pangs as terror ill conceals, _110 The dry fixed eyeball; the pale, quivering lip, Which tell me that the spirit weeps within Tears bitterer than the bloody sweat of Christ. I rarely kill the body, which preserves, Like a strong prison, the soul within my power, _115 Wherein I feed it with the breath of fear For hourly pain.
NOTE:
_100 And but that edition 1821; But that editions 1819, 1839.
CAMILLO:
Hell's most abandoned fiend Did never, in the drunkenness of guilt, Speak to his heart as now you speak to me; I thank my God that I believe you not. _120
[ENTER ANDREA.]
ANDREA:
My Lord, a gentleman from Salamanca Would speak with you.
CENCI:
Bid him attend me In the grand saloon.
[EXIT ANDREA.]
CAMILLO:
Farewell; and I will pray Almighty God that thy false, impious words Tempt not his spirit to abandon thee. _125
[EXIT CAMILLO.]
CENCI:
The third of my possessions! I must use Close husbandry, or gold, the old man's sword, Falls from my withered hand. But yesterday There came an order from the Pope to make Fourfold provision for my cursed sons; _130 Whom I had sent from Rome to Salamanca, Hoping some accident might cut them off; And meaning if I could to starve them there. I pray thee, God, send some quick death upon them! Bernardo and my wife could not be worse _135 If dead and damned:--then, as to Beatrice-- [LOOKING AROUND HIM SUSPICIOUSLY.] I think they cannot hear me at that door; What if they should? And yet I need not speak Though the heart triumphs with itself in words. O, thou most silent air, that shalt not hear _140 What now I think! Thou, pavement, which I tread Towards her chamber,--let your echoes talk Of my imperious step scorning surprise, But not of my intent!--Andrea!
NOTES:
_131 Whom I had edition 1821; Whom I have editions 1819, 1839. _140 that shalt edition 1821; that shall editions 1819, 1839.
[ENTER ANDREA.]
ANDREA:
My lord?
CENCI:
Bid Beatrice attend me in her chamber _145 This evening:--no, at midnight and alone.
[EXEUNT.]
SCENE 1.2:
A GARDEN OF THE CENCI PALACE. ENTER BEATRICE AND ORSINO, AS IN CONVERSATION.
BEATRICE:
Pervert not truth, Orsino. You remember where we held That conversation;--nay, we see the spot Even from this cypress;--two long years are past Since, on an April midnight, underneath _5 The moonlight ruins of Mount Palatine, I did confess to you my secret mind.
ORSINO:
You said you loved me then.
BEATRICE:
You are a Priest. Speak to me not of love.
ORSINO:
I may obtain The dispensation of the Pope to marry. _10 Because I am a Priest do you believe Your image, as the hunter some struck deer, Follows me not whether I wake or sleep?
BEATRICE:
As I have said, speak to me not of love; Had you a dispensation I have not; _15 Nor will I leave this home of misery Whilst my poor Bernard, and that gentle lady To whom I owe life, and these virtuous thoughts, Must suffer what I still have strength to share. Alas, Orsino! All the love that once _20 I felt for you, is turned to bitter pain. Ours was a youthful contract, which you first Broke, by assuming vows no Pope will loose. And thus I love you still, but holily, Even as a sister or a spirit might; _25 And so I swear a cold fidelity. And it is well perhaps we shall not marry. You have a sly, equivocating vein That suits me not.--Ah, wretched that I am! Where shall I turn? Even now you look on me _30 As you were not my friend, and as if you Discovered that I thought so, with false smiles Making my true suspicion seem your wrong. Ah, no! forgive me; sorrow makes me seem Sterner than else my nature might have been; _35 I have a weight of melancholy thoughts, And they forebode,--but what can they forebode Worse than I now endure?
NOTE:
_24 And thus editions 1821, 1839; And yet edition 1819.
ORSINO:
All will be well. Is the petition yet prepared? You know My zeal for all you wish, sweet Beatrice; _40 Doubt not but I will use my utmost skill So that the Pope attend to your complaint.
BEATRICE:
Your zeal for all I wish;--Ah me, you are cold! Your utmost skill...speak but one word... [ASIDE.] Alas! Weak and deserted creature that I am, _45 Here I stand bickering with my only friend! [TO ORSINO.] This night my father gives a sumptuous feast, Orsino; he has heard some happy news From Salamanca, from my brothers there, And with this outward show of love he mocks _50 His inward hate. 'Tis bold hypocrisy, For he would gladlier celebrate their deaths, Which I have heard him pray for on his knees: Great God! that such a father should be mine! But there is mighty preparation made, _55 And all our kin, the Cenci, will be there, And all the chief nobility of Rome. And he has bidden me and my pale Mother Attire ourselves in festival array. Poor lady! She expects some happy change _60 In his dark spirit from this act; I none. At supper I will give you the petition: Till when--farewell.
ORSINO:
Farewell. [EXIT BEATRICE.] I know the Pope Will ne'er absolve me from my priestly vow But by absolving me from the revenue _65 Of many a wealthy see; and, Beatrice, I think to win thee at an easier rate. Nor shall he read her eloquent petition: He might bestow her on some poor relation Of his sixth cousin, as he did her sister, _70 And I should be debarred from all access. Then as to what she suffers from her father, In all this there is much exaggeration:-- Old men are testy and will have their way; A man may stab his enemy, or his vassal, _75 And live a free life as to wine or women, And with a peevish temper may return To a dull home, and rate his wife and children; Daughters and wives call this foul tyranny. I shall be well content if on my conscience _80 There rest no heavier sin than what they suffer From the devices of my love--a net From which he shall escape not. Yet I fear Her subtle mind, her awe-inspiring gaze, Whose beams anatomize me nerve by nerve _85 And lay me bare, and make me blush to see My hidden thoughts.--Ah, no! A friendless girl Who clings to me, as to her only hope:-- I were a fool, not less than if a panther Were panic-stricken by the antelope's eye, _90 If she escape me.
NOTE:
_75 vassal edition 1821; slave edition 1819.
[EXIT.]
SCENE 1.3:
A MAGNIFICENT HALL IN THE CENCI PALACE. A BANQUET. ENTER CENCI, LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, ORSINO, CAMILLO, NOBLES.
CENCI:
Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye, Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church, Whose presence honours our festivity. I have too long lived like an anchorite, And in my absence from your merry meetings _5 An evil word is gone abroad of me; But I do hope that you, my noble friends, When you have shared the entertainment here, And heard the pious cause for which 'tis given, And we have pledged a health or two together, _10 Will think me flesh and blood as well as you; Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so, But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful.
FIRST GUEST:
In truth, my Lord, you seem too light of heart, Too sprightly and companionable a man, _15 To act the deeds that rumour pins on you. [TO HIS COMPANION.] I never saw such blithe and open cheer In any eye!
SECOND GUEST:
Some most desired event, In which we all demand a common joy, Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count. _20
CENCI:
It is indeed a most desired event. If when a parent from a parent's heart Lifts from this earth to the great Father of all A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep, And when he rises up from dreaming it; _25 One supplication, one desire, one hope, That he would grant a wish for his two sons, Even all that he demands in their regard-- And suddenly beyond his dearest hope It is accomplished, he should then rejoice, _30 And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast, And task their love to grace his merriment,-- Then honour me thus far--for I am he.
BEATRICE [TO LUCRETIA]:
Great God! How horrible! some dreadful ill Must have befallen my brothers.
LUCRETIA:
Fear not, child, _35 He speaks too frankly.
BEATRICE:
Ah! My blood runs cold. I fear that wicked laughter round his eye, Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair.
CENCI:
Here are the letters brought from Salamanca; Beatrice, read them to your mother. God! _40 I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform, By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought. My disobedient and rebellious sons Are dead!--Why, dead!--What means this change of cheer? You hear me not, I tell you they are dead; _45 And they will need no food or raiment more: The tapers that did light them the dark way Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not Expect I should maintain them in their coffins. Rejoice with me--my heart is wondrous glad. _50
[LUCRETIA SINKS, HALF FAINTING; BEATRICE SUPPORTS HER.]
BEATRICE :
It is not true!--Dear Lady, pray look up. Had it been true, there is a God in Heaven, He would not live to boast of such a boon. Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false.
CENCI:
Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call _55 To witness that I speak the sober truth;-- And whose most favouring Providence was shown Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others, When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy, _60 The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano Was stabbed in error by a jealous man, Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival; All in the self-same hour of the same night; Which shows that Heaven has special care of me. _65 I beg those friends who love me, that they mark The day a feast upon their calendars. It was the twenty-seventh of December: Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath.
[THE ASSEMBLY APPEARS CONFUSED; SEVERAL OF THE GUESTS RISE.]
FIRST GUEST:
Oh, horrible! I will depart--
SECOND GUEST:
And I.--
THIRD GUEST:
No, stay! _70 I do believe it is some jest; though faith! 'Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly. I think his son has married the Infanta, Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado. 'Tis but to season some such news; stay, stay! _75 I see 'tis only raillery by his smile.
CENCI [FILLING A BOWL OF WINE, AND LIFTING IT UP]:
Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl Under the lamplight, as my spirits do, To hear the death of my accursed sons! _80 Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood, Then would I taste thee like a sacrament, And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell, Who, if a father's curses, as men say, Climb with swift wings after their children's souls, _85 And drag them from the very throne of Heaven, Now triumphs in my triumph!--But thou art Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine to-night. Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around.
A GUEST [RISING]:
Thou wretch! _90 Will none among this noble company Check the abandoned villain?
CAMILLO:
For God's sake, Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane, Some ill will come of this.
SECOND GUEST:
Seize, silence him!
FIRST GUEST:
I will!
THIRD GUEST:
And I!
CENCI [ADDRESSING THOSE WHO RISE WITH A THREATENING GESTURE]:
Who moves? Who speaks? [TURNING TO THE COMPANY.] 'tis nothing, _95 Enjoy yourselves.--Beware! For my revenge Is as the sealed commission of a king That kills, and none dare name the murderer.
[THE BANQUET IS BROKEN UP; SEVERAL OF THE GUESTS ARE DEPARTING.]
BEATRICE:
I do entreat you, go not, noble guests; What, although tyranny and impious hate _100 Stand sheltered by a father's hoary hair? What if 'tis he who clothed us in these limbs Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we, The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, His children and his wife, whom he is bound _105 To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find No refuge in this merciless wide world? O think what deep wrongs must have blotted out First love, then reverence in a child's prone mind, Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! O think! _110 I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke Was perhaps some paternal chastisement! Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt Remained, have sought by patience, love, and tears _115 To soften him, and when this could not be I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights And lifted up to God, the Father of all, Passionate prayers: and when these were not heard I have still borne,--until I meet you here, _120 Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast Given at my brothers' deaths. Two yet remain, His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not, Ye may soon share such merriment again As fathers make over their children's graves. _125 O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman, Cardinal, thou art the Pope's chamberlain, Camillo, thou art chief justiciary, Take us away!
CENCI [HE HAS BEEN CONVERSING WITH CAMILLO DURING THE FIRST PART OF]
BEATRICE'S SPEECH; HE HEARS THE CONCLUSION, AND NOW ADVANCES: I hope my good friends here Will think of their own daughters--or perhaps _130 Of their own throats--before they lend an ear To this wild girl.
BEATRICE [NOT NOTICING THE WORDS OF CENCI]:
Dare no one look on me? None answer? Can one tyrant overbear The sense of many best and wisest men? Or is it that I sue not in some form _135 Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit? O God! That I were buried with my brothers! And that the flowers of this departed spring Were fading on my grave! And that my father Were celebrating now one feast for all! _140
NOTE:
_132 no edition 1821; not edition 1819.
CAMILLO:
A bitter wish for one so young and gentle. Can we do nothing?
COLONNA:
Nothing that I see. Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy: Yet I would second any one.
A CARDINAL:
And I.
CENCI:
Retire to your chamber, insolent girl! _145
BEATRICE:
Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more! Wouldst thou have honour and obedience Who art a torturer? Father, never dream, Though thou mayst overbear this company, _150 But ill must come of ill.--Frown not on me! Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks My brothers' ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat! Cover thy face from every living eye, And start if thou but hear a human step: _155 Seek out some dark and silent corner, there, Bow thy white head before offended God, And we will kneel around, and fervently Pray that he pity both ourselves and thee.
CENCI:
My friends, I do lament this insane girl _160 Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity. Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels. Another time.-- [EXEUNT ALL BUT CENCI AND BEATRICE.] My brain is swimming round; Give me a bowl of wine! [TO BEATRICE.] Thou painted viper! _165 Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible! I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame, Now get thee from my sight! [EXIT BEATRICE.] Here, Andrea, Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said I would not drink this evening; but I must; _170 For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail With thinking what I have decreed to do.-- [DRINKING THE WINE.] Be thou the resolution of quick youth Within my veins, and manhood's purpose stern, And age's firm, cold, subtle villainy; _175 As if thou wert indeed my children's blood Which I did thirst to drink! The charm works well; It must be done; it shall be done, I swear!
[EXIT.]
END OF ACT 1.
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