FIESCO, VERRINA, ROMANO, with a picture; SACCO, BOURGOGNINO,
CALCAGNO.
FIESCO (receiving them with great affability). Welcome, my worthy
friends! What important business brings you all hither? Are you, too,
come, my dear brother, Verrina? I should almost have forgotten you, had
you not oftener been present to my thoughts than to my sight. I think I
have not seen you since my last entertainment.
VERRINA. Do not count the hours, Fiesco! Heavy burdens have in that
interval weighed down my aged head. But enough of this----
FIESCO. Not enough to satisfy the anxiety of friendship. You must
inform me farther when we are alone. (Addressing BOURGOGNINO.) Welcome,
brave youth! Our acquaintance is yet green; but my affection for thee is
already ripe. Has your esteem for me improved?
BOURGOGNINO. 'Tis on the increase.
FIESCO. Verrina, it is reported that this brave young man is to be your
son-in-law. Receive my warmest approbation of your choice. I have
conversed with him but once; and yet I should be proud to call him my
relation.
VERRINA. That judgment makes me of my daughter vain.
FIESCO (to the others). Sacco, Calcagno--all unfrequent visitors--I
should fear the absence of Genoa's noblest ornaments were a proof that I
had been deficient in hospitality. And here I greet a fifth guest,
unknown to me, indeed, but sufficiently recommended by this worthy
circle.
ROMANO. He, my lord, is simply a painter, by name Julio Romano, who
lives by theft and counterfeit of Nature's charms. His pencil is his
only escutcheon; and he now comes hither (bowing profoundly) to seek the
manly outlines of a Brutus.
FIESCO. Give me your hand, Romano! I love the mistress of your soul
with a holy fire. Art is the right hand of Nature. The latter only gave
us being, but 'twas the former made us men. What are the subjects of
your labor?
ROMANO. Scenes from the heroic ages of antiquity. At Florence is my
dying Hercules, at Venice my Cleopatra, the raging Ajax at Rome, where,
in the Vatican, the heroes of former times rise again to light.
FIESCO. And what just now employs you?
ROMANO. Alas! my lord, I've thrown away my pencil. The lamp of genius
burns quicker than the lamp of life. Beyond a certain moment the flame
flickers and dies. This is my last production.
FIESCO (in a lively manner). It could not come more opportune. I feel
to-day a more than usual cheerfulness. A sentiment of calm delight
pervades my being, and fits it to receive the impression of Nature's
beauties. Let us view your picture. I shall feast upon the sight.
Come, friends, we will devote ourselves entirely to the artist. Place
your picture.
VERRINA (apart to the others). Now, Genoese, observe!
ROMANO (placing the picture). The light must fall upon it thus. Draw up
that curtain--let fall the other,--right. (Standing on one side). It is
the story of Virginia and Appius Claudius. (A long pause; all
contemplate the picture.)
VERRINA (with enthusiasm). Strike, aged father! Dost thou tremble,
tyrant? How pale you stand there, Romans! Imitate him, senseless
Romans! The sword yet glitters! Imitate me, senseless Genoese! Down
with Doria! Down with him! (Striking at the picture.)
FIESCO (to the painter, smiling). Could you desire greater applause?
Your art has transformed this old man into a youthful enthusiast.
VERRINA (exhausted). Where am I! What has become of them! They
vanished like bubbles. You here, Fiesco! and the tyrant living!
FIESCO. My friend, amidst this admiration you have overlooked the parts
most truly beauteous. Does this Roman's head thus strike you? Look
there! Observe that damsel--what soft expression! What feminine
delicacy! How sweetly touched are those pale lips! How exquisite that
dying look! Inimitable! Divine, Romano! And that white, dazzling
breast, that heaves with the last pulse of life. Draw more such
beauties, Romano, and I will give up Nature to worship thy creative
fancy.
BOURGOGNINO. Is it thus, Verrina, your hopes are answered?
VERRINA. Take courage, son! The Almighty has rejected the arm of
FIESCO. Upon ours he must rely.
FIESCO (to ROMANO). Well--'tis your last work, Romano. Your powers are
exhausted. Lay down your pencil. Yet, whilst I am admiring the artist,
I forget to satiate on the work. I could stand gazing on it, regardless
of an earthquake. Take away your picture--the wealth of Genoa would
scarcely reach the value of this Virginia. Away with it.
ROMANO. Honor is the artist's noblest reward. I present it to you.
(Offers to go away.)
FIESCO. Stay, Romano! (He walks majestically up and down the room,
seeming to reflect on something of importance. Sometimes he casts a
quick and penetrating glance at the others; at last he takes ROMANO
by the hand, and leads him to the picture.) Come near, painter.
(With dignified pride.) Proudly stand'st thou there because, upon
the dead canvas, thou canst simulate life, and immortalize great deeds
with small endeavor. Thou canst dilate with the poet's fire on the
empty puppet-show of fancy, without heart and without the nerve of
life-inspiring deeds; depose tyrants on canvas, and be thyself a
miserable slave! Thou canst liberate Republics with a dash of the
pencil, yet not break thy own chains! (In a loud and commanding tone.)
Go! Thy work is a mere juggle. Let the semblance give place to reality!
(With haughtiness, overturning the picture.) I have done what thou hast
only painted. (All struck with astonishment; ROMANO carries away the
picture in confusion.)