The Continental Monthly, Vol 6, No 5, November 1864. Various
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did not give them to me; but at my emancipation I took these things secretly from the casket of my husband, for he was my enemy, the enemy of freedom, and had long held me enslaved!
The Man. Citizeness, I wish you a most agreeable promenade!
They pass on.
Who is this marvellous-looking warrior leaning upon a two-edged sword, with a death's head upon his cap, another upon his badge, and a third upon his breast? Is he not the famous Bianchetti, a condottiere employed by the people, as the condottieri once were by the kings and nobles?
The Baptized. Yes, it is Bianchetti; he has been with us for the last eight or ten days.
The Man (to Bianchetti). What is General Bianchetti considering with so much attention?
Bianchetti. Look through this opening in the woods, citizen, and you will see a castle upon a hill: with my glass I can see the walls, ramparts, bastions, etc.
The Man. It will be hard to take, will it not?
Bianchetti. Kings and devils! it can be surrounded by subterranean passages, undermined, and....
The Baptized (winking at Bianchetti). Citizen general....
The Man (in a whisper to the Baptized). Look under my cloak how the cock of my pistol is raised!
The Baptized (aside). Oh woe!—(Aloud.) How do you mean to conduct the siege, citizen general?
Bianchetti. Although you are my brother in freedom, you are not my confidant in strategy. After the capitulation of the castle, my plans will be made public.
The Man (to the Baptized). Take my advice, Jew, and strike him dead, for such is the beginning of all aristocracies.
A Weaver. Curses! curses! curses!
The Man. Poor fellow! what are you doing under this tree, and why do you look so pale and wild?
The Weaver. Curses upon the merchants and manufacturers! All the best years of my life, years in which other men love maidens, meet in wide plains, or sail upon vast seas, with free air and open space around them, I have spent in a narrow, dark, gloomy room, chained like a galley slave to a silk loom!
The Man. Take some food! Empty the full cup which you hold in your hand!
Weaver. I have not strength enough left to carry it to my lips! I am so tired; I could scarcely crawl up here—it is the day of freedom! but a day of freedom is not for me—it comes too late, too late!—(He falls, and gasps out:) Curses upon the manufacturers who make silks! upon the merchants, who buy them! upon the nobles, who wear them! Curses! curses! curses!
He writhes on the ground and dies.
The Baptized. What a ghastly corpse!
The Man. Baptized Jew, citizen, poltroon of freedom, look upon this lifeless head, shining in the blood-red rays of the setting sun! Where are now your words and promises; the equality, perfectibility, and universal happiness of the human race?
The Baptized (aside). May you soon fall into a like ruin, and the dogs tear the flesh from your rotting corpse!—(Aloud.) I beg that your excellency will now permit me to return, that I may give an account of my embassy!
The Man. You may say that, believing you to be a spy, I forcibly detained you.—(Looking around him.) The tumult and noise of the carousal is dying away behind us; before us there is nothing to be seen but fir and pine trees bathed in the crimson rays of sunset.
The Baptized. Clouds are gathering thick and fast over the tops of the trees: had you not better return to your people, Count Henry, who have been waiting so long for you in the vault of St. Ignatius?
The Man. Thank you for your exceeding care of me, Sir Jew! But back! I will return and take another look at the festival of the citizens.
Voices (under the trees). The children of Ham bid good night to thee, old Sun!
Voice (on the right). Here's to thy health, old enemy! Thou hast long driven us on to unpaid work, and awaked us early to unheeded pain! Ha! ha! When thou risest upon us to-morrow, thou wilt find us with fish and flesh: now off to the devil, empty glass!
The Baptized. The bands of peasants are coming this way.
The Man. You shall not leave me. Place yourself behind this tree trunk, and be silent!
Chorus of Peasants. Forward, forward, under the white tents to meet our brethren! Forward, forward, under the green shade of the beeches, to rest, to sleep, to pleasant sunset greetings!
Our maidens there await us; there await us our slaughtered oxen, the old teams of our ploughs!
A Voice. I am pulling and dragging him on with all my strength—now he turns and defends himself—down! down among the dead!
Voice of the Dying Noble. My children, pity! pity!
Second Voice. Chain me to your land and make me work without pay again—will you!
Third Voice. My only son fell under the blows of your lash, old lord; either wake him from the dead, or die to join him!
Fourth Voice. The children of Ham drink thy health, old lord! they beg thee for forgiveness, lord!
Chorus of Peasants (passing on out of sight). A vampire sucked our blood, and lived upon our strength:
We have caught the vampire, he shall escape no more!
By Satan, thou shalt hang as high as a great lord should!
By Satan, thou shalt die high, high above us all!
Death to the nobles; tyrants were they all!
Drink, food, and rest for us; poor, weary, hungry, thirsty, naked!
Your bodies shall lie like sheaves upon our fields; the ruins of your castles fly like chaff beneath the flail of the thresher!
Voice. The children of Ham will dance merrily round their bonfires!
The Man. I cannot see the face of the murdered noble, they throng so thickly round him.
The Baptized. It is in all probability a friend or relation of your excellency!
The Man. I despise him, and hate you!
Poetry will sweeten all this horror hereafter. Forward, Jew, forward!
They disappear among the trees.
Another part of the forest. A mound upon which watchfires are burning. A procession of people bearing torches.
The Man (appearing among them with the Baptized). These drooping branches have torn my liberty cap into tatters.
Ha! what hell of flame is this throwing its crimson light into the gloom, and leaping through these heavily fringed walls of the forest?
The Baptized. We have wandered from our way while seeking the pass of St. Ignatius. We must retrace our steps immediately, for this is the spot in which Leonard celebrates the solemnities of the New Faith!
The Man. Forward, in the name of God! I must see these solemnities. Fear nothing, Jew, no one will recognize us.
The Baptized. Be prudent; our lives hang on a breath!
The Man. What enormous ruins are these scattered around us! This ponderous pile must have lasted centuries before it fell!
Pillars, pedestals, capitals, fallen arches—ha! I am treading upon the broken remnants of an escutcheon. Bas-reliefs of exquisite sculpture are scattered about upon the earth! Heavens! that is the sweet face of the Virgin Mother shining through the heart of the darkness! The light flickers, I can see it no more. Here are the slight-fluted shafts of a shrine, panes of colored glass with cherub heads, a carved railing of bronze, and now, in the light of yonder torch, I see the half of a monumental figure of a reclining knight in armor thrown upon the burnt and withered grass: Where am I, Jew?
The Baptized. You are passing through the graveyard of the last church of the Old Faith; our people labored forty days and forty nights without intermission to destroy it; it seemed built for eternal