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Updated: June 4, 2025
Ever since that first visit to Mannheim he had felt drawn to the 'Greek climate of the Palatinate'. On the 1st of April, 1782, we find him writing to Dalberg that it 'would be untrue were he to deny his growing inclination for the drama'. The letter goes on to say that he was then expecting to be very much occupied, for several months, with medical studies; but he hoped to finish a new play, 'Fiesco', by the end of the year.
But if we look at the matter in that light we have a tragedy, not of republicanism, but of the "vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself and falls on the other." With the usurper Fiesco, and the brute Gianettino, out of the way, the state returns to the good regimen of Andrea, who represents the only republicanism then thinkable, democracy in the modern sense being nowhere in question.
There is but one expedient. Laura! Count, you remember an unpleasant circumstance 'Tis my wish, prince, we should both forget it. The actions of men are regulated by their knowledge of each other. It is my fault that you knew me so imperfectly. GIANETTINO. I shall never think of it without craving your pardon from my inmost soul FIESCO. Nor I without forgiving you from my heart's core.
FIESCO. That, prince, is all that I can wish. GIANETTINO. Then good-night! To-morrow we have a party at the palace, and Fiesco is invited. Come, procurator! FIESCO. Ho! Lights there! Music! Make way there for Doria! Make way? In hell! Never in Genoa! The prince is going. Good night, Lavagna! FIESCO. I perceive some guests here who do not share the pleasure of the feast. No! Not one of us.
This between ourselves there is no one by to hear us. Between ourselves you are an impertinent jackanapes, and presume upon the credit of your uncle. No one by to hear us, indeed! GIANETTINO. Sister! sister! don't be angry. I'm only merry because Fiesco is still as much a coxcomb as ever. That's all I wanted to know. The former, LOMELLINO, entering. Pardon my boldness, gracious lady.
Be on your guard, Lavagna! That, indeed, I am. Evil designs are formed against you, Count. That I perceive. MOOR. Beware of Doria! Perhaps my suspicions have wronged thee, my friend Doria is indeed the name I dread. MOOR. Avoid the man, then. Can you read? FIESCO. A curious question! Thou hast known, it seems, many of our cavaliers. What writing hast thou?
I swear to thee that I hate thee hate thee like the serpent of Paradise, that first disturbed the happiness of creation, and brought upon mankind unbounded sorrow. Thou hast committed a crime against the majesty of the eternal God in permitting virtue to lead thy hands to wickedness, and in suffering the patriots of Genoa to violate their country. Fiesco, had thy villany deceived me also!
That 'Fiesco' produces this bewildering effect is due to the fact that the inner logic of the piece had not been fully and consistently thought out when the writing began. And this is not all. The author seems unable to control and guide the unruly spirits whom he has conjured into life. There is no lucid grouping of historical forces.
A friend! for God's sake, open! BOURGOGNINO. It is Calcagno heavens! What can this mean? FIESCO. Open the gate, soldiers. The former CALCAGNO, out of breath. CALCAGNO. All is lost! all is lost! Fly, every one that can! BOURGOGNINO. What's lost? Have they flesh of brass? Are our swords made of rushes? FIESCO. Consider, Calcagno! An error now is fatal. CALCAGNO. We are betrayed!
On the night of January 2, 1547, the conspirators made their attack upon the city. Gianettino Doria was killed, but the aged Andrea made his escape. The success of Fiesco appeared to be complete, but as he was going on board a galley the gang-plank turned, he fell into the sea and his heavy armor bore him down. Without a leader the conspiracy instantly collapsed.
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