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My nephew is no more. Hear, Lomellino! LOMELLINO. What, duke still do you still hope? And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with the name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope. LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale; what counterpoise in yours? Heaven! The times are past, my lord, when armies fought under the guidance of celestial leaders.
Is this beautiful and majestic world to him but as one precious diamond, on which her image her image alone is engraved? That he should love her? love Julia! Oh! Your arm support me, Arabella! Hark! Was not that Fiesco's voice, which from the tumult penetrated even hither? Can he laugh while his Leonora weeps in solitude? Oh, no, my child, it was the coarse, loud voice of Gianettino.
LEONORA. Ah! my Fiesco, in the stormy atmosphere that surrounds a throne the tender plant of love must perish. The heart of man, e'en were that heart Fiesco's, is not vast enough for two all-powerful idols idols so hostile to each other. Love has tears, and can sympathize with tears. Ambition has eyes of stone, from which no drop of tenderness can e'er distil.
There are those who regard Fiesco's inconsistency as an artistic complexity of motive going to show that Schiller had progressed in the knowledge of life and become aware that human heroism is apt to be more or less mixed with base alloy. One writer thinks it shows "how intelligently he had studied the Italian Renaissance and how correctly he had grasped its spirit."
Can death have robbed Verrina of a friend, and Fiesco not know the loss? VERRINA. Mournful tales ill suit Fiesco's joyful feasts. For whom must we both mourn? VRRRINA. Both! both! Oh, 'tis but too true we both should mourn yet not all sons lament their mother. FIESCO. 'Tis long since your mother was mingled with the dust.
So far as the conspiracy is concerned the whole affair with Julia is rather badly motivated. Still more dubious, from a rational point of view, is Fiesco's relation to the Moor.
The heart waits not the guidance of the senses real sentiment needs no breastwork of outward ornament. LEONORA. Heavens! Where did you learn such a truth? JULIA. 'Twas in mere compassion that I spoke it; for observe, madam, the reverse is no less certain. Such is Fiesco's love for you. My picture! Given to you! JULIA. Have I retaliated?
The man whose smiles deceived all Italy, will he endure equals in Genoa? Go! 'Tis certain that Fiesco will overthrow the tyrant. 'Tis as certain he will become a tyrant still more dangerous. BOURGOGNINO looks after him with speechless surprise, then follows slowly. SCENE II. An apartment in FIESCO'S house.
ROSA. Surely 'twas but a common tumult, such as happens every day in Genoa. LEONORA. They cried murder! and I distinctly heard Fiesco's name. In vain you would deceive me. My heart discovers what is concealed from my eyes. Quick! Hasten after them. See! Tell me whither they carry him. ROSA. Collect your spirits, madam. Arabella is gone. LEONORA. Arabella will catch his dying look.
GIANETTINO. No wonder. These eternal messages. FIESCO. The play awaits us, too, signora. May I offer you my hand? JULIA. Stay, let me take my cloak. 'Tis no tragedy I hope, count? It would haunt me in my dreams. 'Twill excite immoderate laughter. SCENE I. Night. The court of FIESCO'S palace. The lamps lighted. Persons carrying in arms. A wing of the palace illuminated.
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