Michael Field

“ To you, good Messer Ercole, for strength
And nobleness of handiwork, the craft
That has subverted matter, as the god
Turned chaos to a fabric. Ah, and the work,
Your work, is done, signed of your fame and done. ”

“ Hour after hour they move about on the slimy bottom of the flooded field, inhaling the marshy exhalations, baked in the noon-tide blaze, pulling up with aged or childish hands the obstructive weeds, or otherwise preparing in spring for the autumn crop of rice. ”

“ Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna lies stretched on a black litter along the terrace of the castle, under a clump of pomegranate-trees covered with blood-red apples.
A beautiful Mute sits on the ground and watches his every look or gesture. ”

“ ALEXANDER.
I’m envious of Lucrezia, and weary,
More weary than with August—all my passion
Hard on my heart at last! My Cesare,
—Beautiful and cold as steel, his mind
Shining and shallow as the moon—for certain,
If he had been Medea, he had simmered
My ageing body in the cauldron’s flood,
Like Æson’s, for his purpose.... Solitary!
Age, age! And when the young are still,
The young who should be noisy, it is vacant. ”

“ For safety.
CESARE.
—It is blood,
The fascination of deep heritage,
Compels the old race back to every city
I vaunted mine....
I do not want you near,
I brought you out of danger. Openly
You are my mother, openly I drew you
Behind my litter to a refuge: always,
Till I am powerless, you will feel my power,
Protecting you....
Enter Messer Agapito da Amalia.
And is Giovanni Sforza
Restored to Pesaro?
AGAPITO
My lord, he is. ”

“ He cannot sing the kings: it is in battle
When we hiss down in rage to die for them
Our blood runs music.
CESARE.
You shall die in battle.
ALL THE SHEPHERDS.
We will all die: we will all live for you,
Ready to die;
Though we lie down, encompassing a city,
Beneath your rule we can lie down in peace.
{97} CESARE.
You are my chosen warriors. ”

“ Truly pagan the work is, whether in its sunny aspects or its dark ones, whether in its philosophy or its art. The pursuit of joy, the adoration of beauty, the ecstasy and the pain of love, the gay light and colour of the physical world, its sweet scents and sounds, its lovely shapes and delicate textures, are all here, their brilliance but the brighter for the shadow that flits about them of death and its finality. ”

“ JUANITO.
At sunset, Excellence.
CESARE.
Now the king-star
Is falling down below the rocks—and blue
As a sea-deep is the hollow we must tempt;
It is blue: one venturing bird{172}
Makes it gigantic with a little shake,
An arietta.... We must drop down lower
Than the bird’s song—it is not from the ground.
Look, my Juanito!
Aside I hitch my shoulders through this narrow
And windy crevice of the barbican.
I am as agile and as thin as you,
I feel as young—
Case-hardened from that pestilence, a tower
Among my race; strong as La Mota ”

“ The Vatican be cleared of sin. These bastards ...
Let me not see them more! Joffré, Lucrezia—
Joffré must mind his government afar,
I banish him. Lucrece—oh, I shall gather
The seas between us; she shall dwell in Spain,
Dwell in Valencia, deep, where I was born,
White little demon-girl!
[He rises, trembling, and Poto robes him.] No priest henceforward
Shall hold two benefices; simony
No more shall breed among us. God would punish
Some sin in us; it could not be Giovanni
Deserved a death so cruel. Gently, Poto,
You are too violent. ”

“ They all gather round as if longing for some outbreak of their enthusiasm.
What shall we do? Beat on our castanets,
Fall on our knees, bring tribute?... But our prince
Has infinite treasure.
CESARE.
You shall keep my castles. ”

“ Betray me as Gonsalvo at the last?
{173} JUANITO.
Garcia is safe; he burns to furnish you.
CESARE.
How wider
The steepness stretches, the tranquillity!
What does it promise? It is Fortune’s Pit,
That gapes in Spain, that swallowed me awhile
In Rome and Naples, and then cast me out
Alive upon this pinnacle. And now....
The world will be my chess-board, I survey
Until occasion hail me. There is Louis
Of France would set his horse to tread with mine;
The Emperor hates as Pope the Rovere;
Gonzaga lord of Mantua will espouse
My fellowship, Ferrara is fraternal;
My brother of Navarre ”

“ ALEXANDER.
Unless you do this thing and bury
The brood that hates us, I withdraw from you
My treasure and I excommunicate
A disobedient son. It is my will.
[Cesare’s fingers twist the chain so violently it snaps, and the sword drops to the ground.
CESARE.
I am your fool....
The fool of all these Kings, this Pope. No throne!
There is no throne....
[With a low bow.] Your abject servitor!
{136} ALEXANDER.
Hush! But in this my will. Paternity
Sees with hot passion where the foe is hidden.
You yield obedience, son?
CESARE.
Your fool, your fool! ”

“ I join the French?
{144} ALEXANDER.
Ay—with the treaties
Between us and the Spaniards and Gonsalvo
Safe in my coffers: for the French will fail;
And, though they raised you up, they hold you back
From Florence and your clutch on Tuscany.
You have Romagna firm.
CESARE.
O father,
Live a few years and I shall be your king!
As you love me, live till Tuscany is mine.
Live, live!
ALEXANDER.
For you
I have done harder things than conquer death. ”

“ The beauty of St Ann's, the principal grazing parish of Jamaica, surpassed any notion I had previously formed of it;—the whole district being a sea of gently undulating hill and valley, covered with the most luxuriant waving Guinea grass—across which the racking cloudlets, borne on the wings of the fresh and invigorating breeze, chased each other cheerily as if it had been one vast hay field, ready for the scythe—thickly interspersed with groves of pimento and fruit-trees, whose picturesque situations no capability man could possibly improve. ”

“ Magnificent before all Rome.
{72} ALEXANDER.
You sparkle!
I pardon you. He scarcely will.
[The Pope nods his head and rises to go.
LUCREZIA.
[Detaining him.] A peach!...
It is a little fountain
That grottoes under cloud of this red skin.
There, father, from my hand.
[The Pope seats himself again.
And this dear Cesare,
You will no more reproach him,
When he grows dull and drowses in the sun:
We let our lions drowse.
ALEXANDER.
[Eating the fruit.] Delicious!
So cordial in its essence it revives,
But sets the senses light enough to slumber.
We let our lions drowse ... ”

“ When we think of the laws of nature (which by continued observation have become known to us) as the proper tests to which any new fact or our theoretical representation of it should in the first place be subjected, let us contemplate their assured and large character. Let us go out into the field and look at the heavens with their solar, starry, and planetary glories; the sky with its clouds; the waters descending from above or wandering at our feet ”

“ Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna. He is dressed in black, rain-streaked velvet, and a coat of fine mail; his belt and sword are gold; from the black beretta in his hand a white, rain-drenched feather sweeps to the ground. He is followed by Don Michelotto Corella, Monsignore Gaspare Torella, Messer Agapito de Amalia and the Cavaliere Vincenzo Calmeta. ”

“ They plunge down into the market-place; the people gather and follow them like a train.
CONFUSED VOICES.
Vitula! She is for Tiber!
—Her new husband is there in the Vatican.
—Her last husband has told us ... it is not to be spoken.
—That Turk might be her bridegroom.
—We know he is her brother.
—Where is Don Alfonso?
—Berenice!
—Pasiphaë!
—And she laughs like the sky of the first year!
—Her throat—its pearls are but shadows. ”

“ They go out, the wind blowing on them from the gap.
SCENE II
The Vatican—a Loggia. Don Alfonso and Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Aragon are seated together. There are peaches on a golden dish by them, a golden wine-jug and goblet. Two quails and a peacock sun themselves on the ground. A monkey plays with the ribbons of the Duchess’s dress; she wears white, with a green and gold veil twisted in her long hair.
LUCREZIA.
Why do you sigh? ”

“ When all things take enchantment, even sin,
And pardon waits if one should sin too deep
[Pointing to the Pope.] Of Heaven itself, shall we not be content?
Shall we not cease from talking?
ALFONSO.
[Vehemently drawing her to his breast.] While he sleeps.
SCENE III
An apartment next to the Borgia Tower, which is reached by a passage on which the door gives. Don Michelotto Corella stands in the centre, the door being open. Suddenly Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna comes to him in a blaze of passion.
CESARE.
Eigh, Michelotto, shall a vermin kill? ”

“ CESARE’S VOICE.
[Within.] Duca! Blood of God!
What is their war-cry? Beaumont?
[He throws open the doors of the tent, struggling into his armour. Juanito rushes up.
Ambushed by Fate! Juanito, the torch
Is falling: light another. Do you see,
I cannot find the buckles.... I must ride....
Fetch out my horse.... The corselet—that will serve.
[Juanito goes for the horse.
CRIES RENEWED.
Beaumont, a Beaumont!
CESARE.
[Snatching up his sword.] Curse the renegades! ”

“ CESARE.
Let her keep
Her dule ’mid dead volcanoes!
[He catches up the child, tosses it, and tumbles it on a couch against a large piombo cat.
ALEXANDER.
[As if watching.] ... Figliuolo,
Luck is your Guardian Angel! Have you thought
Romagna needs protection against Venice,
Romagna that so soon will be your own?
The Estes of Ferrara ... could we mate
Lucrezia with the princely house! Ah, then, to northward
You were impregnable. The heir is named
Alfonso.... To a woman there is matter
Of comfort in a name. ”

“ Whose first command is Multiply! These chambers
Are given to my son. But all these motley walls
We will have re-created—fading frescoes,
Of hands that moulder.... We will have your Cesar—
Nay, we will have yourself set on a throne,
Or rising ’mid the lilies ... not historic:
In history there is no art; and life
Is life and death, and never resurrection.
My fair Fiammetta, we will have you painted.
There is a prayer in your bright eyes—
{80} FIAMMETTA.
Lord Cesare ...
And represented as King Solomon.
ALEXANDER.
[Patting her on the back.] ”

“ The Borgian Bull,
A victim at its feet. The flames are blown;
There will be sacrifice! It was a dream
I told to Messer Bernardino....
[To Poto.] Swift,
Come swiftly to the Vatican! Giovanni—
Well, is he dead, or will he yet return?
SCENE III
The Vatican: a room overlooking the Tiber. It is twilight.
Don Joffré Borgia and Donna Sancia d’Aragon, who is weeping, look out from a distant window; near at hand the Lord Cardinals Francesco Borgia and Bartolomeo of Segovia are also looking out.
The Lord Alexander VI. is pacing backward and forward.
ALEXANDER.
[Pausing by the Cardinals.] ”

“ CESARE.
You startled me. How lost!
[He closes his eyes.
LUCREZIA.
[Stealing away to Adriana.] He is dreaming; he has quite forgotten me.
Come, Adriana, soft! As an astronomer
He must not be disturbed: he is quite lost.
SCENE V
The Pope’s Bedroom in the Borgia Apartments at the Vatican.
The Lord Alexander VI. is extended asleep on the bed.
The Lord Cardinal Bartolomeo of Segovia and Monsignore Gaspare Poto.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
I thank God for this sleep. ”

“ He appears to be sleeping, except that now and again he slowly rolls from hand to hand a gold ball of perfumes. His Spanish page Juanito Grasica is asleep. Behind the couch, across a table, the great ceremonial sword lies naked, and near it is a new purchase, the sleeping Cupid with broken foot of Messer Buonarotti.
Donna Lucrezia Borgia enters with Donna Adriana Orsini, whose hand she clasps: she looses it, and, after a moment’s pause, comes to her brother.
LUCREZIA.
Madonna Adriana brought me here ”

“ That loves her mortal, and can let him die,
Her fit of doting ended.
LUCREZIA.
Will you quarrel?
[The Pope’s voice is heard calling through the halls.
{71} ALEXANDER.
Where is she?
Lucrezia, Lucrezia! My little nurse!
Lucrezia! [He enters.
LUCREZIA.
[Rising with Alfonso.] We are here, dear father.
ALEXANDER.
Ha!
Feast of S. John, is this austerity?
Skinning cool peaches in a vestibule?
You should have seen the bull-fight, my fair Spaniard.
Cesare....
But he is Hercules! There, in his doublet,
With his short sword he faced five bulls. ”

“ The Stanze, Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna’s new apartments in the Vatican.
The Lord Alexander VI. has penetrated into them and looks round.
ALEXANDER.
At last I have lodged him in the Vatican! But this is pleasure!... There is perfume in the rooms—the first scent of jasmine? No, but his balls of perfume ranged already in their order.... ”

“ He was fitted for college by the Rev. James Tufts, of Monson, and entered Williams college in 1868. Upon the death of his father, in 1869, he returned to the West, and has since then made his home on the western side of the Mississippi. He left the State University of Missouri at the close of his junior year, and went to Europe, where he remained for seven months.
In 1873 Mr. Field became a reporter on the St. Louis Evening Journal, of which paper Stanley Huntley (now of the Brooklyn Eagle) was then city editor. ”

“ Evidently, too, the glorious climate of California was a blessing which brightened as Field took his flight toward the East. Early in February he was back in the harness in Chicago, celebrating his return with characteristic gayety in "Lyrics of a Convalescent." But his contributions to the paper through the winter and early spring of 1894 were confined to occasional verse. After a short trip to New Orleans, in April, he resumed active work the first week in May; and for the remainder of the year his column gave daily evidence of his mental activity and cheerfulness. ”

“ Autant en emporte ly vens”
PERSONS B O R G I A A P E R I O D P L A Y
LONDON
A. H. BULLEN
1905
{1}
BORGIA ACT I SCENE I
An apartment of the Vatican: at the further end the door of the Treasury by which the Lord Cardinal Casanova is seated.
The Lord Alexander VI. and an Envoy from Naples.
The Pope is seated; from time to time he plunges his hands into a coffer of pearls, letting the pearls stream through his fingers.
ALEXANDER.
All are for her! ”