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PORZIA
BY
CALE YOUNG RICE
AUTHOR OF
"A NIGHT IN AVIGNON," "YOLANDA OF CYPRUS," "CHARLES DI TOCCA," "DAVID,"
"MANY GODS," "NIRVANA DAYS," "FAR QUESTS," "THE IMMORTAL LURE," ETC.
GARDEN CITY
NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
MCMXIII
_Copyright, 1913, by_
CALE YOUNG RICE
_All rights reserved, including that of translation into Foreign
Languages, including the Scandinavian._
To
GILBERT MURRAY
_Poet, Dramatist, and Master-Interpreter of a great literature_
PREFACE
Some years ago while writing "A Night In Avignon" the thought came
to me of framing two other plays that should deal respectively with
the Renaissance spirit at its height and decadence, as that play had
dealt with it at its beginning. For the great human upheaval that
came intoxicatingly to Italy during the fourteenth, fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries is so full of aesthetic contrast and glamor as
to be peculiarly suitable for the doubly exacting purposes of poetic
drama.
"Giorgione," the second of these plays to be written, was published in
1911 with three other plays in a volume entitled "The Immortal Lure,"
and like "A Night In Avignon" was received with such kindness as to
encourage me to write the third, here presented under the name of
"Porzia."
This last play, whose period is that of "decadent Humanism," or as
Symonds prefers to call it, of "The Catholic Reaction," is laid in
Naples, where the passions of men, more than freed from the long
domination of the Church and the Hereafter, seemed to reach in their
grasp at this life almost incredible heights and depths of excess.
And yet from amid this excess, as from a rank and unweeded garden,
were springing into flower many seeds of modern intellectual
enfranchisement, as the achievements of Bruno and his contemporaries
witness.
I need only add that I have sought to use materials that would be true
to the time of this final portrayal, and that I therefore trust it may
be understood as an organic member of the group to which it belongs.
C. Y. R.
Louisville, Kentucky, June, 1912.
ACT I
CHARACTERS
RIZZIO DI ROSSI _A young Leader of the Literati at Naples,
suspected of heresy_
OSIO _His Brother_
PORZIA _His Wife_
ALOYSIUS _Her Uncle, a Physician_
BIANCA _Her Cousin, a Florentine, once betrothed to Osio_
GIORDANO BRUNO _A young Dominican, also heretical_
MONSIGNOR QUERIO _An Officer of the Inquisition_
TASSO _A Poet_
MARINA _A Sicilian serving Porzia_
MATTEO _Serving Rizzio, later Osio_
_Dancers from Capri, Musicians, Guards of the Inquisition, etc._
TIME--_About 1570_
PORZIA
SCENE: _A portion of the house, terrace and garden
of Rizzio on his wedding day at Naples. It is so
situated as to command a view of the city, the
blue Bay with Capri set like a topaz in it, the
Vesuvian coast, and the Mountain itself--rising
like a calm though unappeasable monitor against
the land's too sensual enchantment._
_The house, a white corner of which is visible
along the right, has large doors toward the back
giving upon the terrace. A vine-clad terrace wall,
several feet above the level of the terrace, but
much above that of the street without, runs across
the rear to a cypress-set gate in the centre, and
on into the lustrous Spring foliage of ilex,
myrtle and orange._
_A pedestaled image of the Virgin against the
house, a statue of Pan before a bower opposite,
and several stone seats forward, are decked with
orange blossoms that glow in the light of late
afternoon._
_Music, reveling, and laughter are heard, muffled,
within. Then amid a louder burst of them Osio strides
angrily forth. He is followed in argumentative elation
by Rizzio--clothed in Greek raiment, a book in his
hand--and by Bruno._
_Osio_ (_as they come down_). Proof from the teeth of aliens and fools
And infidels that follow their own reason?
I want no proof! your books should burn in Hell!
_Rizzio_ (_gaily_). Because they glorify the stars in heaven?
_Osio._ I say they are heresy!
_Rizzio._ And I say truth!
[_Uplifts volume._
That were your ears not stopped with sophistries
And Jesuitry you would adjudge divine!
[_Tosses it down._
_Bruno._ Ai, Signor Osio, there's no denying!
[_Porzia appears anxiously at the door._
We need but look,
To learn that stars are worlds
Swung out upon infinitudes of space.
And as for earth--
Tho Christ shed blood upon it--
'Tis but a pilgrim flame among them all.
[_Porzia leaves door._
_Osio_ (_turning upon him_). And you, a monk, will say so to
the Church
And to the Holy Office?
_Bruno_ (_in humorous alarm_). God forbid!
_Osio._ And you, Rizzio, who on your wedding-day,
Mid rites of Venus
And revels to Apollo,
Wear pagan robes--and prink others in them--
_Rizzio._ Ho, others! meaning Porzia?
_Osio._ I say--
[_Mirth within._
_Rizzio_ (_laughing at him_). What, what, my merry raging brother,
more?
That Pan is not your god, whom I but now
Besought for inward beauty and truth of soul?
No, no, he is not, by Vesuvius!
_Osio._ I say--
_Rizzio._ That Plato and the ancients are
A plague which only the Pope can purge from earth?
[_Again laughing._
Ai! to the flames with them, and with all fairness!
_Osio._ I say that you--
_Rizzio._ Hey, yea! that I who fall
Not on my knees to mitred villainy--
Or cringe to crosiered craft--
And yet whose life is lit for truth and freedom--
Am viler far than you
Who take your pleasure and pay it with confession?
Who think the Devil with faith would be no Devil?
[_Porzia again appears with Bianca._
You hear it, Bruno?
_Osio._ I say there is one thing
You shall not do!
_Rizzio._ So-ho! my lordly brother,
My breaker of betrothals--if not creeds--
And that is what?
_Osio._ I will protect her from it!
_Rizzio._ Her?
_Osio._ Porzia! from the passion of your lies!
[_Astonishment._
_Rizzio_ (_stung, staring_). By ... all the saints and fiends
and incubi
That ever infested night and nunneries!
What frenzy now is biting at your brain!
[_Before him._
Is she your wife, so to concern your care?
[_They face, pale._
_Porzia_ (_who sees, and with Bianca comes quickly, winningly down_).
Heresy! heresy! truth and heresy!
Are there no other words in all the world
To pour as wine
Upon a wedding-day!--
Are these your ways, my newly wedded lord,
To leave me, an hour's bride, away from home--
From my dear uncle's home--
With but a friend or two for comforting--
And bandy words of other stars than those
You swear to see when gazing in my eyes!
_Rizzio_ (_responsively_). My Porzia!
_Porzia._ No, no! I'll not forgive you!
For is it not ill boding to our bridals
You quarrel over the heavens--and not me!
[_As he laughs._
My beauty, he says, this husband I have taken,
Is life--and yet ere 'tis an hour his
Forgets to live on it!--and Osio,
The brother of him,--
E'en Osio there--
_Rizzio_ (_gay again_). Who swears he will protect you!
[_Osio starts._
_Porzia._ Protect?
_Rizzio._ Against the heresy of robes
Of pagan fashion--and against your husband!
[_Constraint. Porzia sees Bianca flush._
_Porzia._ I do not understand--unless you jest,
As oft--too oft you do!
Or mean perchance Bianca ... unto whom
He was betrothed
And whom he would, this breath,
Be wooing again, were _I_, not _words_, your bride!
[_Then winningly again, as Marina enters._
But see, here is Marina! the dance awaits!
[_Music is heard._
Let us go in and give ourselves to Joy,
For Misery is quick enough to take us,
If first we do not wed us to her rival!
Is it not so?
_Rizzio_ (_with passion_). Or sun has never shone!
So in! the tarantelle! (_as Tasso enters_) And then a song
From Messer Tasso, who would be divine,
[_Greets him._
Did he love Venus as he fears the Church,
Apollo as he shuns the Inquisition!
In!--Osio, will you come?
_Osio._ I will not.
_Rizzio._ Then
Dance with your own mad humors and delusions
Here to Vesuvius and to the sea,--
Or to Bianca plead your pardon!
(_To the rest_) Come!
[_Seizes blossoms blithely._
For in this world there's but one heresy,
Denial of the divinity of Joy!
[_Throws sprays over Porzia, takes her hand and they go singing.
All follow, but Osio and Bianca._
_Osio_ (_when their steps have died; in cold rage_).
You shall hear more of this, my pretty brother!
Prater of pagan doubts!
Whom--but that God may use it--I would curse
For the resemblance that our mother gave us!
For, by the living blood of San Gennaro,
In yon Duomo, the scoffing siren song
Of heresy that swells in you shall cease,
Tho it shall take the sweat of the rack to hush it!
You shall hear more!...
_Bianca_ (_who has stood long indignant_).
And others shall hear more!
[_Her voice breaking as she turns on him._
Others who fix upon me this affront
Of broken and humiliate betrothals!
[_As he attempts to speak._
Yes! you have made of me a thing of shame
Here in the eyes
Of those who're alien to me!
That you have loved me not--or love me less
Than once you did, too well I came to know--
I--with the blood in me of the Medici!--
And now it is open prate!... But do you think
The women of my city want resentment,
Or less than these sun-lusting ones of Naples
Know how to cool their wrath?
_Osio._ I think you mad--
In a mad maze--
And yield it no concern;
Nor shall--(_meaningly_) until a thing you know is done.
As to betrothals, give your memory breath:
Ours was agreed to end as either willed.
[_Goes from her to gate and looks expectantly out._
_Bianca_ (_as he returns_). And you, weary of it, have utterly
Chosen to end it?
[_Sits._
_Osio._ Have I so affirmed?
_Bianca_ (_springing up_). I will not have evasions, Osio!
Shiftings and turnings
Radiant of hopes
That torture expectation till it breaks.
[_Again sitting._
And yet--perchance it is as well they come
Now ... while there yet is time for more withdrawals.
_Osio_ (_starting_). More?
_Bianca._ For--I fear all trust in you is folly;
And that the heresy of Rizzio
Which I agreed with you to take unto
Monsignor Querio--
_Osio_ (_clenching_). Shall not be taken?
[_She rises._
Not! but you leave the brunt to me alone?
_Bianca._ You purpose more, I think, than to restrain him.
_Osio._ And you more than abjuring! You would gaze
Upon his godless schisms, ...
Upon the naked luring of his lies!
_Bianca._ No! Tho the beauty of them--
_Osio._ Beauty! beauty!
[_Striking the Pan near him._
That wind of infidelity from Hell
He blows out of his lips do you call beauty!
No!--and he with his poets and philosophers,
His Platos
And star-mad Copernicas,
And that Dominican, Giordano Bruno,
For whom the stake to flames will yet be lit,
Shall learn you are too late in your relenting!
_Bianca_ (_stricken_). Too ... late!
_Osio._ His heresies shall reap their due.
_Bianca_ (_death-pale_). Which means--that you already have revealed
them!
Have sent unto Monsignor Querio
To-day--
Rizzio's wedding-day!--
For that
It was you sought out Matteo, who, pledged
Unto Marina,
As were you to me,
Has broke his troth?...
And now, now you await him?--O was not
Your promise to me that a week should pend
Ere any step?
_Osio._ I will not lose my soul,
[_Turns away._
And dallying is the feebleness of fools.
_Bianca._ And will lies save it--tho they be for Heaven!--
To one who nigh has lost her soul for you?
[_When he does not answer, more penetratively._
We have been friends, Osio, long been friends,
And, woman that I am, I would 'twere more,
But in this I suspect--
_Osio._ Enough! we prate!
[_Rankling, uneasily._
I say enough.
_Bianca._ And I say all too little,
[_Bitterly._
Until I tell you now plain to your face,
And to your heart
Plunging toward this passion,
That not alone a hate of heresy
Is haunting you to it, but that the lips
And eyes and brows and soul of--
_Osio._ Will you cease!
_Bianca._ I tell you that you love her--Porzia!
And veer but to the vision of her face!
_Osio_ (_who after strangling silence finds words_).
If you say that, Bianca, ever again
Or if, by all the demons that Avernus
Pours out upon the black Phlegraean fields,
You hint it or suggest it to her, till--
_Bianca._ Till you achieve her! and have wrapped the rites
Of the Church round your achieving?
Till you have severed her from Rizzio--
Have swept her from perdition--
Into your swathing arms! I say you shall not!
Me you have set aside, but there an end!
[_Starts toward door._
_Osio._ Stop! whither do you go?
_Bianca._ To call them! call!
And to betray your treachery--and mine!
[_Calling._
Rizzio! Porzia! Rizzio!
_Osio._ Maledictions!
[_Seizing her wrists._
Will you become a dagger, and not know,
Stiletto that you are, what thing you stab!
_Bianca._ The infatuation festering within you!
Till, deaf with the desire of it and dream,
You cannot tell their voice from Deity's.
[_Calls again._
Rizzio! Porzia! Tasso!
[_The music ceases._
_Rizzio_ (_within; startled_). It was Bianca!
[_Hastening to door with the rest crowding closely after._
How? what? you called? what moves you?--Osio?
[_Looks around._
Was some one here? what is it? speak!... Bianca?
What burns you?
_Bianca._ You shall hear! It must be told.
Yes, yes!... (_Struggling to say it_) ...
And with no leavening delay of words.
We ... I ... You must be gone from here at once;
At once--for there is peril.
_Rizzio._ Pah-ho! peril?
Now, Scylla and the Sibyl and Charybdis!
What megrim have you had?
_Bianca._ None--for doubting;
Or any, it matters not, if you will go,
And quickly, trusting reason--as you boast to;
For I have heard--
_Rizzio._ Have heard what and from whom?
[_Again looks around._
_Bianca._ There was one here who said Monsignor Querio
Knows of your excommunicant delight
In books that are forbid--
And ... of your heresies!
_Porzia_ (_in quick dismay_). The Inquisition!
You mean--he may be sought by it and seized,
Held in the trammels of it for a truth
That...! Do you mean, Bianca, Osio,
That now, at any hour--?... Oh, he must go!
[_Hears noise at gate._
And quickly! In, Rizzio, in, for they--!
[_The gate opens and Matteo entering stops amazed and alarmed._
_Rizzio_ (_with laughing relief_). Now, now, do you not see your
apprehension!
Is Matteo the Inquisition! Is
He then the prison that has come to seize me?
Fie, fie, Bianca, with your fears that mar
Again the bridal beauty of this hour,
And crowd with quiverings the bliss of it!
No more of them!--(_to dancers_) Hither! and wind your maze!
Again take up the dance!
_Porzia._ No, Rizzio, no!
For now delight would die under our feet,
And we but trample on it! No! Dismiss them
Back now to Capri!...
More than the woman fear within me warns it.
For you have been o'er bold--not vainly, nay,
For truth, I know, must dare--but there may be
More in this than you think.
_Rizzio._ And ere it rises
I cravenly must quench the altar-fires
That I attend--and our half-wedded joys?
No! no! More revels!
Till we shall utterly uncloud our bliss
And leave remembrance not a stain upon it!
A song, Tasso, a song!
The taunting one that swept us into laughter!
How runs it? did it not begin with Naples?
(_Recalls it._)
Naples sins and Torre pays,
(Torre del Greco!)
Who fears the earthquake all her days!
(Torre del Greco!)
Who....
[_Forgets._
Who sits beneath Vesuvius
And shrives the castaways of us!
Naples sins and Torre pays,
(Torre del Greco!)
On, on with it! Come Porzia!--On, on.
_Tasso_ (_who has stood shrinking_). Ah, Signor, no; I fear;
I cannot; pray
Your pardon. I must go.
_Rizzio._ Go!
_Tasso._ I would not
Offend the Church--who is the Bride of Christ.
_Rizzio_ (_unaffected_). Then off with you, unworthy follower
Of Virgil,
And of fire-veined Ariosto,--
Of singers who have flung their hearts to courage,
As yet we shall fling ours! (_Tasso goes._) For even Bianca
And Osio
Must rue now their alarm,
And help us back from it to revelry.
[_As he turns to them, then to all._
What, none of you? no heart of joy about me?
_Porzia_ (_striving for abandon_). Yes, Rizzio!... tho I would have
you fly;
For bodingly I breathe the breath of evil!
[_With forced lightness._
A dance, then!
Again weave its delight!
[_Dancers show cheer._
For to your want mine is attuned, and what
Is music to it shall o'ermaster me!
And not alone my feet shall follow, but
The Truth you fly to will I wing to attain!--
Tho stars seem to my simple sight but candles
Upon the altar of God, I'll think them worlds,
If to your soul they seem so; and for the rest--
[_A knock brings consternation, this time to all. The dancers
fall to crossing themselves, some kneeling. As they do so
the gate is thrown open and Querio enters; he is followed
by several guards._
_Querio_ (_advancing; amid awe_). In the name of the Vicar of God
who sits at Rome,
And of the Holy Office, I arrest
The giver of these pagan rites and revels.
[_Guards step to Rizzio's side; he stands speechless._
_Porzia_ (_stunned_). Oh,... Oh!
_Rizzio_ (_hoarsely_). And at whose urgence, my lord Prelate,
[_Starts forward._
I ask you at whose urgence this is done!
This deed of churchly duty!... Yes, in justice
I seek; for there has been
Some traitor and perhaps a liar.--Osio?
Bianca? (_fiercely_) half, half I believe 't was you!
[_All are appalled._
_Porzia._ No, no, Rizzio!... no!... what are you saying!
[_Restrainingly._
Will you requite injustice with a worse?
[_To Querio, who is unmoved._
Monsignor, this in truth is hunting haste,
To search him out
Upon his wedding-day,
And bind him with the very wreaths of it!
Could you not wait an eve, a night, until
To-morrow when his nuptials would be o'er!
_Querio._ Who weds two brides is bigamist, Signora.
When he divorces heresy accuse me.
But now say your farewells,
And with a moment's privacy: that can
I grant, that and no more: the rest's with Rome.
[_Retires to rear--as do all but the two._
_Porzia_ (_whom dread now begins to overwhelm_).
My Rizzio! my own! I cannot bear it!
O why did you not go, delaying till
This fate has fallen
Now like a pall upon us!
I fear! I fear!...
To be so wedded, ere I am a wife,
Here in this city of dark lawless passions!
[_Unrestrainedly._
Ah, can you not recant?
Deny at once and so--
_Rizzio._ Porzia!
_Porzia._ Nay!
And yet to have you leave me--
Ere any nuptial night has hung our couch,
Ere I have lain beside you in the dark
And like Madonna dreamed of motherhood!
Ah, ah, I cannot!...
_Rizzio_ (_with a thought_). Then--listen to me.
[_Osio starts, watching him._
I will return to you!
_Porzia._ Return?
_Rizzio._ Perchance.
It may be. For with florins to the guard--
With friendly gold--
May he not be persuaded
To bring me hither to you, for an hour
At midnight--tho it be but for an hour?
[_They look at each other._
_Querio_ (_suspiciously, coming down_). Enough, Signor; the hour
is running late.
And there are here, may be,
[_Sinisterly._
Some who are avid now to be at vespers.
_Porzia_ (_embracing Rizzio_). Then go, my lord; farewell, and fear
not for me,
Since I shall toil only for your release.
[_He goes, with Querio and guard. Porzia quails, then lets
Marina lead her into the house. All follow but Bianca,
Osio, and Matteo at gate._
_Bianca_ (_as the twilight begins, to Osio_).
Now that you have achieved so much, what more?
[_He does not answer; she also turns into house._
_Osio_ (_whom a turmoil of passions is tearing_).
What more?... God in His Heaven shall decide!...
Doubts have I had--like swine of hell within me--
But now He shall decide--
If she's to be the mother of heretics ...
Or if I, who acclaim the Creed, shall have her!
[_Calls._
Matteo!
_Matteo._ Signor--(_advancing_) here.
_Osio._ You have done well.
And from to-night I take you to my service,
With wages that shall gild you from a want,
And with the benediction of the Church.
But there is one thing more:
Follow Monsignor Querio to the prison,
Then to Signora Porzia return--
And say her husband sent you
To bid her be in the bower there at midnight.
_Matteo_ (_staring_). But Signor, will she come?
_Osio._ Say that she is
To speak no word--but keep to silence: go.
[_With fixed face, when the latch clicks behind him._
God shall decide, ...
For if she does not know
My arms from _his_, then, it shall be a sign
That to them and my bed ... she was predestined.
[_The dark grows. He turns soon to go, and the curtain falls....
But rises again at once and it is midnight; with only dim
lights from the silent, sleeping city. As it does so Porzia
with Marina comes out of the house. They pause and listen,
Marina half-anxiously._
_Porzia_ (_drawing free_). Return and have no fear, he soon will come,
And bade me be alone there in the bower.
The night is like a spell to draw him to me.
_Marina._ Signora--!
_Porzia._ Like a spell of living love.
[_Crosses over, as one in a dream, and enters the bower. Marina
goes, the gate opens, and Osio silently enters, coming down
into the bower amorously. A long silence ... then slowly
the Curtain._