befriends us. First to the tent of the young prince, and while I in
brief speech do acquaint him with mine errand, thou shalt keep guard
without. Then will we guide him to his father, and unto Allah leave the
rest [_shrouds herself in dark mantle and veil_]. Lead on, good Hassan.
Let us away!
Hassan. Fold thy veil closer, that none may know the daughter of
Mohammed walks thus late abroad. Come, and Allah grant we sleep not in
paradise to-morrow!
[_Exit, leading_ Zuleika.
CURTAIN.
SCENE FOURTH.
[Ion's _tent_.
Ion _chained, in an attitude of deep despair, upon
a miserable couch. He does not see the entrance
of_ Zuleika _and_ Hassan.]
Zuleika. Stand thou without as watch, good Hassan, and warn me if any
shall approach. [_Exit_ Hassan.] Young Greek, despair not; hope is nigh.
Ion [_starting up_]. Bright vision, whence comest thou? Art thou the
phantom of a dream, or some blest visitant from that better land, come
to bear me hence? What art thou?
Zuleika. I am no vision, but a mortal maiden, come to bring thee
consolation.
Ion. Consolation! ah, then indeed thou art no mortal; for unto grief
like mine there is no consolation, save that which cometh from above.
Zuleika. Nay, believe it not. Human hearts are at this moment hoping,
and human hands are striving earnestly to spare thee the agony thou dost
dread.
Ion. Are there then hearts to feel for the poor Greek? I had thought I
was alone,--alone 'mid mine enemies. Sure, those fetters are no dream,
this dark cell, the words "Thy father dies!" No, no! it is a dread
reality. The words are burned into my brain.
Zuleika. Is death, then, so dread a thing unto a warrior? I had thought
it brought him fame and glory.
Ion. Death! Oh, maiden! To the soldier on the battle-field, fighting for
his father-land 'mid the clash of arms, the fierce blows of foemen, the
shouts of victory; 'neath the banner of his country, the gratitude of a
nation, the glory of a hero round his brow,--death were a happy, ay, a
welcome friend. But alone, 'mid foes, disgraced by fetters, dragged to a
dishonored grave, with none to whisper of hope or comfort, death is a
cruel, a most bitter foe.
Zuleika. Mine errand is to take from that death the bitterness thou dost
mourn, to give a parting joy to the life now passing.
Ion. Oh, hast thou the power to save my father's life! Oh, use it now,
and Greece shall bless thee for thy mercy!
Zuleika. Oh, that the power _were_ mine, how gladly would I use it in a
cause so glorious! I am but a woman, and tho' the heart is strong, the
arm is very weak. I cannot save thy father, but trust I may still cheer
the parting hours with a brief happiness.
Ion. Lady, thy words of kindly sympathy fall like sweet music on my
troubled heart, and at thy magic call hope springeth up anew. Thou art
unknown, and yet there is that within that doth whisper I may trust
thee.
Zuleika. Thou mayst indeed. Heaven were not more true than I will be
unto my word. [Hassan _pauses before the door_.]
Hassan. Lady, the hours are fleeting. It were best to make good speed.
Zuleika. Hassan, thou dost counsel aright; morn must not find me here.
[_To_ Ion.] Young Greek, thou knowest with the coming dawn thy father
dies.
Ion. Ay, ere another moon doth rise that life, so dear to Greece, shall
be no more; the heart that beat so nobly at his country's call be still
forever,--I know it well!
Zuleika. And hast thou no last word for him, no parting wish?
Ion. O maiden, my life were a glad sacrifice, so that I might for a
single hour look on him,--for the last time say, "My father, bless thy
Ion."
Zuleika. That hour shall be thine. Fold thyself in yonder cloak, and
follow me.
Ion. Follow thee,--and whither?
Zuleika. To thy father's presence. Thou shalt spend with him the last
hours of his earthly life. Stay not; this friendly gloom will ere long
pass away.
Ion [_falling on his knees and catching her robe_]. Art thou my guardian
angel? Oh, may the consolation thou hath poured into a suffering soul,
fall like heaven's dew upon thine own; and if the prayers of a grateful
heart bring hope and joy and peace, thy life shall bloom with choicest
blessings. O maiden, how do I bless thee! [_Kisses her robe._]
Zuleika. Speak not of that,--kneel not to me, a mortal maiden. Thy
gratitude is my best reward. Hassan, lead on!
Hassan. Lady, I do thy bidding. First let me lead thee to a place of
safety.
Zuleika. Nay, Hassan, I tarry here,--thou canst return; I will await
thee. Now make all speed,--away!
Ion. Let us hence; my heart can ill contain its joy. Oh, my father,
shall I see thee, hear thy voice, feel thine arms once more about me,
and die with thy blessing on my head. Heaven hath blessed my mission.
Zuleika. Shall we depart? The hour wanes.
Ion. I will follow whither thou shalt lead. But, stay! is there no
danger unto thee? Will thy deed of mercy bring suffering to thee, my
kind deliverer?
Zuleika. Fear not for me. Yet one pledge must I ask of thee on which my
safety doth depend. 'Tis this: Swear that from the moment thou dost
leave me until thou art again a prisoner here, though the path lie plain
before thee thou wilt not fly.
Ion. I swear. Thou mayst trust me.
Zuleika. Yet once again. Breathe not to mortal ear the _means_ by which
thou sought'st thy sire, and let the memory of this hour fade from thy
heart forever. [Ion _bows assent_.] What pledge have I of thy secrecy,
and of thy truth?
Ion. The word of a Greek is sacred, and were not my gratitude my surest
pledge to _thee_?
Zuleika. Pardon, I do trust. Now haste thee.
Ion [_pointing to his fetters_]. Thou dost forget I am a prisoner still.
Zuleika. Hassan, unloose these fetters, and give the Greek his freedom.
[Hassan _takes off the chains_; Ion _springs joyfully forward_.]
Ion. Now am I free again, and with the Turk's base fetters have I cast
off my fears and my despair. Hope smiles upon me, and my father calls.
Oh, let us tarry not.
Zuleika [_folding a dark mantle round him_]. Thus shrouded, in safety
thou mayst reach his cell; this ring will spare thee question. Hassan
will guide thee, and I--will pray for thy success. Farewell! May Allah
aid thee!
Ion. Lady, though I may never know thee, never look on thee again, the
memory of this brief hour will never fade. The blessed gift of mercy
thou dost bestow will I ever treasure with the deepest gratitude, and my
fervent prayer that all Heaven's blessings may rest upon thee cease but
with my life [_falls on his knee and kisses her hand_]. Pardon,--'tis my
only thanks. Spirit of mercy, farewell! farewell! [_Follows_ Hassan;
Zuleika _gazes after him, then sinks down weeping_.]
CURTAIN.
SCENE FIFTH.
[_Tent of_ Cleon _the Greek_.
Cleon, _chained, pacing to and fro_.]
Cleon. A few short hours and all is o'er,--Cleon sleeps with his
fathers. I could have wished to die like a hero in my harness, and have
known my grave were watered by my loved one's tears; to take my wife
once more unto my bosom; once more bless my noble Ion; and pass hence
with the blest consciousness of victory won. 'Tis bitter thus to die,
ingloriously and alone. [_Proudly raising his head._] But the name of
Cleon is too dear unto his people e'er to be forgotten. The memory that
he strove ever for his country's welfare shall strew with tearful
blessings his unhonored grave. [_Steps approach; voices are heard._] Ah,
they come! They shall find me ready. [_Enter_ Ion.] Has mine hour come?
I am here.
[Ion _casts off his cloak, and springs forward_.]
Ion. Father! O my father!
Cleon [_starting back wildly_]. Thou? Here!
Ion. Yes, thy Ion; bless me, Father [_kneels_].
Cleon [_raising and clasping_ Ion _to his breast_]. Here, on my heart,
dear one. I turn to meet my executioners, and see thee, my boy. Great
Heaven, I bless thee! [_They embrace tenderly and weep._] Thou camest
thither--how?
Ion. Alone, with my good sword.
Cleon. Thy guide through the perils of the way, my child?
Ion. The good Father who doth guide all who trust in him.
Cleon. And thine errand?
Ion. To behold thee, my father, and with my life to strive for thy
release.
Cleon. My noble boy, thou hast come unto thy death. Oh, who could bid
thee thus brave the doom that must await thee?
Ion. My mother bid me forth; and as she girded on my sword, she bid me
seek my father, with her blessing on my mission.
Cleon. My brave Iantha, thus for thy country's sake to doom thine own
heart to so deep a sorrow [_looks sadly upon_ Ion]. Tell me, my son, did
thy mother bear bravely up against the fatal tidings? I had feared her
tender heart might but ill meet a blow so fearful. Speak to me of her.
Ion. When the rude Turk did in rough speech acquaint her with thy fell
defeat, she sank as one o'erpowered by her grief, praying the friendly
hand of death might take her hence; but soon the spirit of the Greek
rose high within her, and, banishing her fears, with brave and trusting
heart she sent me forth to seek, and if it might be, save thee. Ah, my
father, that I might die for thee!
Cleon. And thou hath come to see me die! Dost thou not know that with
the night thy father passeth hence, and when the stars again look forth
it will be upon his grave?
Ion. Father, 'tis because thou art doomed that I am here. And if my
heart speak truly, those same bright stars shall serve to guide thee
back to freedom.
Cleon. Thou doth speak wildly. What wilt thou do? Wilt _thou_ brave the
king?
Ion [_proudly_]. Nay, I have knelt for the last time unto Mohammed. I
have offered him my liberty, my service, ay, my life itself, and he hath
scorned me. I have deigned to bow before him as a suppliant, and he hath
spurned me; I have sought by all the power love and despair could teach
to move him, and his ear was closed to me. I seek him not again.
Cleon. Child, what hath led thee to the presence of the king? How didst
thou brave the frown of him before whom even armed men do tremble? Didst
thou dream thy feeble voice could reach a heart so cruel, that thy
prayers could soften one who knoweth not the name of mercy?
Ion. Love can brave all dangers. It giveth wisdom to the untaught,
strength to the weak, hope to the despairing, comfort to the mourner.
Love hath been my guide, my guard.
Cleon. My boy! my Ion! Truly doth God place in the pure heart of such as
thou his truest wisdom, his deepest faith [_embraces him with deep
emotion_]. But--art not thou in danger? Did not thy bold speech anger
the proud king? Art thou still free?
Ion. Let not thy heart be vexed with fears for me,--I am unharmed.
Cleon. Ion, deceive me not, but as thou hopest for thy father's love,
speak truly. Art thou in danger from the Turk, and in thy devotion to
thy father dost thou seek to be thyself the sacrifice? Answer me, Ion.
Ion. Father, I sought to spare thy too o'erburdened heart another grief.
I _am_ a prisoner in Mohammed's power, and know not if my fate be life
or death.
Cleon. 'Tis as I feared; and thou, the last hope of thy country, must
fall,--all, all, for me! Oh, mine own disgrace were bitter, but to see
thee die! Oh, woe is me!
Ion. Father, were it not better thus to die, than in disgraceful peace
to pass away with no thought for our fatherland, no proud consciousness
of having at the call of duty sacrificed all we held most dear, and
leave a name held sacred as one who yielded life and liberty on the
altar of his country?
Cleon. But that thou in thine innocence and bloom should meet death at
the hands of heartless foemen; and for _my_ sake! 'Tis this that tears
my heart.
Ion. The purer the victim the more acceptable the sacrifice. But fear
not, dear father. The Turk is yet a man; 'tis 'gainst thee he wars, and
he will not wreak his vengeance on a child. He may relent, and for my
love's sake, pardon mine offence.
Cleon. Child, thou knowest not Mohammed. He pardons none; all fall
before him, with relentless hand,--all strew his pathway unto victory.
Will he then spare and pity thee? Nay, sire and son must fall! [_Stands
sorrowfully._ Ion _suddenly sees_ Zuleika's _ring upon his hand, and
springs forward_.]
Ion. Father, thou shalt yet breathe the air of freedom, shall clasp my
mother to thy heart; once more shall lead thy gallant band onward to
victory.
Cleon. Raise not bright hopes to crush them at their birth; wake not to
dreams of triumph the heart that hath striven to drive hence all save
the solemn thoughts meet for one so soon to pass away.
Ion [_pointing to the door_]. See, the gray morning 'gins to glimmer in
the east. 'Tis no time for despair. Haste, Father, freedom is near!
Cleon. What doth thus move thee, Ion? Dost thou forget these chains,
the guards, the perils at each step? Thou art dreaming!
Ion. I tell thee 'tis no dream. Thou shalt be free. This mantle will
disguise thee; this ring open a pathway through the guards; these stars
shall be thy silent guide. Wilt thou go?
Cleon. 'Tis strange! Whence then that ring? How dost thou, a captive,
wander thus freely, and offer liberty with such a bounteous hand?
Ion. A solemn oath doth forbid me to reveal to living man the secret of
this hour; but if ever angels do leave their homes to minister to
suffering souls, 'twas one most bright and beautiful who hath this night
led me unto thee, and placed in mine hand the power to set thee free.
Cleon. Truth speaketh in thine earnest eye and pleading voice, and yet I
dare not listen to thy tale.
Ion. Oh, Father, heed not thy fears, thy doubts! Take thy liberty,
believing it heaven-sent. No oath binds thee to Mohammed; thou art no
rightful prisoner of war,--neither duty nor honor doth demand thy stay.
Thy country calls, and Heaven doth point the way.
Cleon. 'Tis true; no oath doth bind me to the Turk, and yet to fly--My
soldier's spirit doth ill brook such retreat.
Ion. Then stay not, my father, but whilst thou may, depart.
Cleon. Bright hopes call me hence. Life, love, fame, beckon me away.
[Hassan _looks in_.]
Hassan. The promised hour hath well-nigh gone. Prepare, young Greek; we
must away.
Ion. A moment more. [_Exit_ Hassan.] Father, time wanes. Once more I do
entreat thee,--go!
Cleon. Heaven grant I choose aright! Come Ion, we will forth together.
[Ion _folds the cloak about_ Cleon; _gives him the ring_.] Come, let us
go.
Ion. Nay, but one can pass forth. Thou goest. I await the morning here.
Cleon. Then do I tarry also. Nay, Ion, I will not go hence without thee.
Ion. Then all is lost. Father, thy stay can nought avail me. It cannot
save, and thou wilt but sacrifice thine own priceless life.
Cleon. Then fly with me; let me bear thee to thy mother. Alone, I will
not go.
Ion. I cannot go; a vow doth bid me stay,--a vow that nought shall tempt
me from the camp to-night; and when did a Greek e'er break his plighted
word?
Cleon. If thine honor bid thee stay, thy father will not tempt thee
hence; but he may stay and suffer with thee the fate of the faithful
[_throws off the mantle_].
Ion. Oh, my father, do not cast from thee the priceless boon of liberty.
Think of thy broken-hearted wife, thy faithful followers, thy
unconquered foes; think, Father, of thy country calling on thee for
deliverance. What were my worthless life weighed 'gainst her freedom.
And what happier fate for a hero's son than for a hero's sake to fall!
Cleon. Thou true son of Greece! Mayst thou yet live to wield a sword for
thine oppressed land, and gird with laurels that brow so worthy them.
[Hassan _enters_.
Hassan. No longer may I stay: thine hour is past.
Ion. I come,--yet one moment more, good Hassan; it is my last. [_Exit_
Hassan.] Once more, my father, do I entreat thee,--go. Thou dost forget
a guardian spirit watcheth over me, and the power that led me hither may
yet accomplish my deliverance. If nought else can move thee, for my sake
go, and win for me that freedom mine honor doth now forbid me to seek.
Break not my heart, nor let me plead in vain.
Cleon. My boy, for thy dear sake do I consent. I _will_ earn thy
deliverance bravely, as a soldier should; and thy dear image shall be
to me the star that leads me on to victory.
Ion [_joyfully_]. Away! Hassan will guide thee past the guards. Then
fly,--and Heaven guide thee, O my father! [Ion _again shrouds_ Cleon _in
the mantle, concealing his chains in the thick folds_.] Thus muffle thy
tell-tale fetters, that no sound may whisper to the Turks there walks a
Greek under the free heavens forth to freedom.
Cleon. My Ion, one last embrace! God grant 'tis not our last on earth!
Bless thee, thou true young heart! Heaven guard thee!
[Hassan _enters in haste_.
Hassan. Art ready? We must depart. [Cleon _bows his head and follows_.
Ion _rushes after, looking from the tent_.]
Ion. Saved! saved! The morning sun that was to shine upon his grave,
will smile upon him far, far from foemen's power. And Mohammed, thinking
to look upon a dying slave, shall waken to the sound of his victorious
war-trump. Ion, thy mission is accomplished. Thou hast given a saviour
to thy fatherland, and mayst fall thyself without a murmur [_looks up
thankfully; a loud noise without_].
[_Enter_ Abdallah _and_ Murad.
Abd. Where is the prisoner? Come forth!
Ion. I am here [_comes forward_].
Abd. Ha!--here is treason! Without there!--the prisoner hath escaped!
Murad. Who flieth yonder, past the camp?
Abd. 'Tis he! Forth, call for aid! Search without delay! Here is foul
work abroad. First, seize yon boy; fetter the base spy; bear him before
the king. Speed hence!
Murad [_to_ Ion]. Infidel dog, thou shalt learn what it is to brave
Mohammed's ire!
[_They seize_ Ion, _and drag him away_.]
CURTAIN.
BIANCA.
OPERATIC TRAGEDY.
NOTE TO BIANCA.
The peculiarity of this opera was that while the words were committed to
memory, the music was _composed_ and _sung_ as the scene proceeded.
In spite of its absurdity, this play was a great favorite; for Jo was
truly superb as the hapless Bianca, while her trills and tragic agonies
were considered worthy of the famous Grisi herself.
CHARACTERS.
Adelbert . . . . . . _Betrothed to Bianca._
Huon . . . . . . . _His Rival._
Juan . . . . . . . _A Page._
Bianca . . . . . . . _A Spanish Lady._
Hilda . . . . . . . _A Witch._
BIANCA.
OPERATIC TRAGEDY.
SCENE FIRST.
[_A wood._
_Enter_ Huon.]
Huon. Hist! All is still. They are not yet here. On this spot will the
happy lovers meet. O wretched Huon! she whom thou so passionately doth
love will here speak tender words to thy thrice hated rival. Yet I,
unseen, will watch them, and ere long my fierce revenge shall change
their joy to deepest woe. Hark! they come! Now, jealous heart, be still!
[_Hides among the trees._]
[_Enter_ Bianca _and_ Adelbert.
Adel. Nay, dearest love, fear not; no mortal eye beholds us now, and yon
bright moon looks kindly down upon our love.
[_They seat themselves beneath the trees._
Bianca. Ah, dearest Adelbert, with thee I feel no fear, but thy fierce
rival Huon did vow vengeance on thee, for I did reject his suit for
thine. Beware! for his wild heart can feel no pity, tenderness, or love.
Adel. I fear him not. Ere long thou wilt be mine, and then in our fair
home we will forget all but our love. Think not, dearest, of that dark,
revengeful man; he does not truly love thee.
Bianca. Near thee I cannot fear; but when thou art far from me, my fond
heart will ever dread some danger for thee. Ah, see the moon is waning;
dear love, thou must away.
Adel. Ah, sweet moments, why so quickly fled? 'Tis hard to leave thee,
thou bright star in my life's sky, and yet I must, or all may be
betrayed. Fare thee well, dear love. One sweet kiss ere we part! [_They
embrace._]
Bianca. Farewell! Ah, when shall I again behold thee? Oh, be not long
away, for like a caged bird I pine for thee.
Adel. When next yon moon doth rise beneath thy lattice, thou shalt hear
my light guitar.
Bianca. Fail not to come. I shall watch for thee the live-long night,
and if thou comest not, this fond heart will grieve.
Both. Farewell, till yon bright moon doth rise,
Farewell, dear love, farewell!
Farewell, farewell, farewell!
Farewell, dear love, farewell!
[_Exit_ Adelbert.
Bianca. Ah, love, thou magic power, thus ever make my breast thy home.
Adieu, dear spot! I fly to happiness and--
Huon. _Me_--[Bianca _shrieks, and seeks to fly_. Huon _detains her_.]
Bianca. Unmanly villain, touch me not. What dost thou here concealed?
Huon. I listen to thy lover's fond and heartless vows. What is his love
to mine? Ah, lady, he loves thee for thy wealth alone. Again I ask, nay,
I implore thee to be mine! Oh, grant me now my prayer!
Bianca. Never! never! I will not listen to thee more. My heart is all
another's; my hatred and contempt are thine.
[_Exit_ Bianca.
Huon. Now, by yon moon 'neath which thy tender vows were plighted, do I
swear to win thee, proud and haughty lady, to these arms. Thou shalt
curse the day when thou didst cast away my love, and wake my deep
revenge.
[_Exit_ Huon.
CURTAIN.
SCENE SECOND.
[_A cave in the forest._ Hilda _leaning over a
boiling caldron. Enter_ Huon.]
Hilda. Ha! who art thou, and what wouldst thou with old Hilda? Speak,
and be obeyed.
Huon. O mighty wizard, I have sought thee for a charm to win a proud and
scornful woman's love,--some mystic potion that shall make her cold
heart burn for me. Ah, give me this, and gold uncounted shall be thine.
Hilda. I will give to thee a draught that shall chase her coldness and
her pride away, and make the heart now beating for another all thine
own. Hold! 'tis here,--three crimson drops when mingled in her wine,
will bring the boon thou askest [_gives_ Huon _a tiny phial_].
Huon. Oh, blessed draught that wins for me the love I seek. Proud
Bianca, now art thou in my power, and shalt ere long return the love of
the once hated and despised Huon. Great sorceress, say how can I repay
thee? Fear not to claim thy just reward.
Hilda. I ask no gold. But when thy prize is won, remember thou old
Hilda's warning. Woman's heart is a fragile thing, and they who trifle
with it should beware. Now go; I would be alone.
Huon. Farewell! When my love and my revenge are won, I'll bless this
hour and Hilda's charm.
[_Exit_ Huon.
Hilda. Poor fool! thou little thinkest thy love-charm is a deadly
draught, and they who quaff it die. When thou shalt seek thy lady,
hoping for her love, a dead bride thou wilt win. Ha! ha! old Hilda's
spells work silently and well.
CURTAIN.
SCENE THIRD.
[_Room in the castle of_ Bianca. _Evening.
Enter_ Huon.]
Huon. How can I best give the draught that none may see the deed? Ha!
yonder comes her page, bearing wine. Now in her cup will I mingle these
enchanted drops, and she shall smile on me when next I plead my suit.
Ho, Juan, my boy! come hither; I would speak with thee. [_Enter_ Juan
_with wine._] Where is thy lady now?
Juan. At her lattice, watching for Lord Adelbert, and gazing on the
flowers he hath sent.
Huon [_aside_]. She shall never watch and wait for him again. [_Aloud._]
Whence bearest thou the wine, Juan? Is it to thy lady?
Juan. Yes, my lord. She bid me haste. I must away.
Huon. Stay! clasp my sandal, boy; I will repay thee if thy mistress
chide. [Juan _stoops;_ Huon _drops the potion into the wine cup._]
Thanks; here is gold for thee. Away, and tell thy lady I will be here
anon.
[_Exit_ Juan.
Ha, ha! 'tis done! 'tis done!
My vengeance now is won,
And ere to-morrow's sun shall set,
Thou, haughty lady, shalt forget
The lover who now hastes to thee,
And smile alone, alone on me.
[_Exit_ Huon.
CURTAIN.
SCENE FOURTH.
[Bianca's _castle. A moonlit balcony.
Enter_ Bianca.]
Bianca. He comes not. Yon bright moon will ere long set, and still I
hear not the dear voice 'neath my lattice singing. Adelbert! Ah, come!
Hist! I hear his light boat on the lake. 'Tis he! 'tis he! [_Leans over
the balcony._]
[Adelbert _sings in the garden below._
The moon is up, wake, lady, wake!
My bark is moored on yonder lake.
The stars' soft eyes alone can see
My meeting, dear one, here with thee.
Wake, dearest, wake! lean from thy bower,
The moonlight gleams on tree and flower.
The summer sky smiles soft above;
Look down on me, thou star of love!
Bianca. Adelbert, dear love, now haste thee quickly up to me.
[_Enter_ Adelbert _upon the balcony._
Adel. Sweet love, why fearest thou? None dare stay me when I fly to
thee. Ah, sit thee here, and I will rest beside thee. [Bianca _seats
herself;_ Adelbert _lies at her feet._]
Bianca. Thou art weary, love. I'll bring thee wine, and thou shalt rest
while I do sing to thee. [_She gives him wine; he drinks._]