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Room in the Palace of JULIA GONZAGA. Night. JULIA GONZAGA, GIOVANNI VALDESSO.
JULIA. DO not go yet. | |
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VALDESSO. The night is far advanced; | |
| I fear to stay too late, and weary you | |
With these discussions.
JULIA. I have much to say. | |
| I speak to you, Valdesso, with that frankness | 5 |
| Which is the greatest privilege of friendship,— | |
| Speak as I hardly would to my confessor, | |
Such is my confidence in you.
VALDESSO. Dear Countess, | |
| If loyalty to friendship be a claim | |
| Upon your confidence, then I may claim it. | 10 |
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JULIA. Then sit again, and listen unto things | |
| That nearer are to me than life itself. | |
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VALDESSO. In all things I am happy to obey you, | |
| And happiest then when you command me most. | |
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JULIA. Laying aside all useless rhetoric, | 15 |
| That is superfluous between us two, | |
| I come at once unto the point, and say, | |
| You know my outward life, my rank and fortune; | |
| Countess of Fondi, Duchess of Trajetto, | |
| A widow rich and flattered, for whose hand | 20 |
| In marriage princes ask, and ask it only | |
| To be rejected. All the world can offer | |
| Lies at my feet. If I remind you of it | |
| It is not in the way of idle boasting, | |
| But only to the better understanding | 25 |
Of what comes after.
VALDESSO. God hath given you also | |
| Beauty and intellect; and the signal grace | |
| To lead a spotless life amid temptations | |
That others yield to.
JULIA. But the inward life,— | |
| That you know not; ’t is known but to myself, | 30 |
| And is to me a mystery and a pain: | |
| A soul disquieted and ill at ease, | |
| A mind perplexed with doubts and apprehensions, | |
| A heart dissatisfied with all around me, | |
| And with myself, so that sometimes I weep, | 35 |
| Discouraged and disgusted with the world. | |
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VALDESSO. Whene’er we cross a river at a ford, | |
| If we would pass in safety, we must keep | |
| Our eyes fixed steadfast on the shore beyond, | |
| For if we cast them on the flowing stream, | 40 |
| The head swims with it; so if we would cross | |
| The running flood of things here in the world, | |
| Our souls must not look down, but fix their sight | |
On the firm land beyond.
JULIA. I comprehend you. | |
| You think I am too worldly; that my head | 45 |
| Swims with the giddying whirl of life about me. | |
Is that your meaning?
VALDESSO. Yes; your meditations | |
| Are more of this world and its vanities | |
Than of the world to come.
JULIA. Between the two | |
I am confused.
VALDESSO. Yet have I seen you listen | 50 |
| Enraptured when Fra Bernardino preached | |
Of faith and hope and charity.
JULIA. I listen, | |
| But only as to music without meaning. | |
| It moves me for the moment, and I think | |
| How beautiful it is to be a saint, | 55 |
| As dear Vittoria is; but I am weak | |
| And wayward, and I soon fall back again | |
| To my old ways, so very easily. | |
| There are too many week-days for one Sunday. | |
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VALDESSO. Then take the Sunday with you through the week, | 60 |
| And sweeten with it all the other days. | |
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JULIA. In part I do so; for to put a stop | |
| To idle tongues, what men might say of me | |
| If I lived all alone here in my palace, | |
| And not from a vocation that I feel | 65 |
| For the monastic life, I now am living | |
| With Sister Caterina at the convent | |
| Of Santa Chiara, and I come here only | |
| On certain days, for my affairs, or visits | |
| Of ceremony, or to be with friends. | 70 |
| For I confess, to live among my friends | |
| Is Paradise to me; my Purgatory | |
| Is living among people I dislike. | |
| And so I pass my life in these two worlds, | |
This palace and the convent.
VALDESSO. It was then | 75 |
| The fear of man, and not the love of God, | |
| That led you to this step. Why will you not | |
Renounce the world, and give your heart to God, 1
JULIA. If God so commands it, | |
| Wherefore hath He not made me capable | |
| Of doing for Him what I wish to do | 80 |
| As easily as I could offer Him | |
| This jewel from my hand, this gown I wear, | |
Or aught else that is mine?
VALDESSO. The hindrance lies | |
| In that original sin, by which all fell. | |
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JULIA. Ah me, I cannot bring my troubled mind | 85 |
| To wish well to that Adam, our first parent, | |
| Who by his sin lost Paradise for us, | |
And brought such ills upon us.
VALDESSO. We ourselves | |
| When we commit a sin, lose Paradise, | |
| As much as he did. Let us think of this, | 90 |
And how we may regain it.
JULIA. Teach me, then, | |
| To harmonize the discord of my life, | |
| And stop the painful jangle of these wires. | |
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VALDESSO. That is a task impossible, until | |
| You tune your heart-strings to a higher key | 95 |
Than earthly melodies.
JULIA. How shall I do it? | |
| Point out to me the way of this perfection, | |
| And I will follow you; for you have made | |
| My soul enamored with it, and I cannot | |
| Rest satisfied until I find it out. | 100 |
| But lead me privately, so that the world | |
| Hear not my steps; I would not give occasion | |
For talk among the people.
VALDESSO. Now at last | |
| I understand you fully. Then, what need | |
| Is there for us to beat about the bush? | 105 |
I know what you desire of me.
JULIA. What rudeness! | |
| If you already know it, why not tell me? | |
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VALDESSO. Because I rather wait for you to ask it | |
With your own lips.
JULIA. Do me the kindness, then, | |
| To speak without reserve; and with all frankness, | 110 |
| If you divine the truth, will I confess it. | |
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VALDESSO. I am content.
JULIA. Then speak.
VALDESSO. You would be free | |
| From the vexatious thoughts that come and go | |
| Through your imagination, and would have me | |
| Point out some royal road and lady-like | 115 |
| Which you may walk in, and not wound your feet. | |
| You would attain to the divine perfection, | |
| And yet not turn your back upon the world; | |
| You would possess humility within, | |
| But not reveal it in your outward actions; | 120 |
| You would have patience, but without the rude | |
| Occasions that require its exercise; | |
| You would despise the world, but in such fashion | |
| The world should not despise you in return; | |
| Would clothe the soul with all the Christian graces, | 125 |
| Yet not despoil the body of its gauds; | |
| Would feed the soul with spiritual food, | |
| Yet not deprive the body of its feasts; | |
| Would seem angelic in the sight of God, | |
| Yet not too saint-like in the eyes of men; | 130 |
| In short, would lead a holy Christian life | |
| In such a way that even your nearest friend | |
| Would not detect therein one circumstance | |
| To show a change from what it was before. | |
Have I divined your secret?
JULIA. You have drawn | 135 |
| The portrait of my inner self as truly | |
| As the most skilful painter ever painted | |
A human face.
VALDESSO. This warrants me in saying | |
| You think you can win heaven by compromise, | |
And not by verdict.
JULIA. You have often told me | 140 |
| That a bad compromise was better even | |
Than a good verdict.
VALDESSO. Yes, in suits at law; | |
| Not in religion. With the human soul | |
| There is no compromise. By faith alone | |
Can man be justified.
JULIA. Hush, dear Valdesso; | 145 |
| That is a heresy. Do not, I pray you, | |
| Proclaim it from the house-top, but preserve it | |
| As something precious, hidden in your heart, | |
| As I, who half believe and tremble at it. | |
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VALDESSO. I must proclaim the truth.
JULIA. Enthusiast! | 150 |
| Why must you? You imperil both yourself | |
| And friends by your imprudence. Pray, be patient. | |
| You have occasion now to show that virtue | |
| Which you lay stress upon. Let us return | |
| To our lost pathway. Show me by what steps | 155 |
| I shall walk in it. [Convent bells are heard.
VALDESSO. Hark! the convent bells | |
| Are ringing; it is midnight; I must leave you. | |
| And yet I linger. Pardon me, dear Countess, | |
| Since you to-night have made me your confessor, | |
| If I so far may venture, I will warn you | 160 |
Upon one point.
JULIA. What is it? Speak, I pray you, | |
| For I have no concealments in my conduct; | |
| All is as open as the light of day. | |
What is it you would warn me of?
VALDESSO. Your friendship | |
With Cardinal Ippolito.
JULIA. What is there | 165 |
| To cause suspicion or alarm in that, | |
| More than in friendships that I entertain | |
| With you and others? I ne’er sat with him | |
| Alone at night, as I am sitting now | |
With you, Valdesso.
VALDESSO. Pardon me; the portrait | 170 |
| That Fra Bastiano painted was for him. | |
Is that quite prudent?
JULIA. That is the same question | |
| Vittoria put to me, when I last saw her. | |
| I make you the same answer. That was not | |
| A pledge of love, but of pure gratitude. | 175 |
| Recall the adventure of that dreadful night | |
| When Barbarossa with two thousand Moors | |
| Landed upon the coast, and in the darkness | |
| Attacked my castle. Then, without delay, | |
| The Cardinal came hurrying down from Rome | 180 |
| To rescue and protect me. Was it wrong | |
| That in an hour like that I did not weigh | |
| Too nicely this or that, but granted him | |
| A boon that pleased him, and that flattered me? | |
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VALDESSO. Only beware lest, in disguise of friendship, | 185 |
| Another corsair, worse than Barbarossa, | |
| Steal in and seize the castle, not by storm | |
| But strategy. And now I take my leave. | |
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JULIA. Farewell; but ere you go, look forth and see | |
| How night hath hushed the clamor and the stir | 190 |
| Of the tumultuous streets. The cloudless moon | |
| Roofs the whole city as with tiles of silver; | |
| The dim, mysterious sea in silence sleeps, | |
| And straight into the air Vesuvius lifts | |
| His plume of smoke. How beautiful it is! [Voices in the street. | 195 |
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GIOVAN ANDREA. Poisoned at Itri.
ANOTHER VOICE. Poisoned? Who is poisoned? | |
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GIOVAN ANDREA. The Cardinal Ippolito, my master. | |
| Call it malaria. It was very sudden. [Julia swoons. | |
