Don Alphonso. You do not answer? I will kill him in the antechamber with my sword. (He is about to leave, she seizes his arm.) Donna Lucretia. Stop! Don Alphonso. Do you prefer to pour out for him yourself a glass of Syracusan wine? Donna Lucretia. Gennaro ! Don Alphonso. He must die! Donna Lucretia. Not by the sword! Don Alphonso. The manner is of little consequence. Which do you choose? Donna Lucretia. The other. Don Alphonso. You will take care not to deceive yourself, and pour out for him yourself from this golden flagon which you know. I will be present myself. Do not suppose that I am about to quit you. Donna Lucretia. I will do what you desire. We do not intend to make any remarks with regard to the poison which Alphonso constrains Lucretia to present, herself, to Gennaro. This refinement of cruelty, we are aware, ought to introduce the principal scene between Lucretia and Gennaro; and Lucretia accepts the horrible duty of pouring out the poison herself for her son, only because she has the counter-poison (antidote) ready. But the spectator who is not aware that she has this resource, is astonished to see a mother consent to pour out the poison herself for her son. Does she know if she can give him the counter-poison in time? Does she know if Don Alphonso will leave her alone with Gennaro? And, above all, why does she resort to these dangerous expedients, when she can by a word save Gennaro? Alphonso believes that Gennaro is the lover of Lucretia, and this is the reason why he wishes his death. Let Lucretia say that he is her son, the jealousy of the Duke is appeased and Gennaro is saved. But this son is the fruit of an incest. After the reproaches which Alphonso makes to Lucretia, we do not see that she runs any risk in confessing her fault; she hazards the loss of the esteem of her husband, and she has to gain the life of her son. What is it then that arrests her? son is about to perish by the sword or by poison, and she preserves silence! Is it fear? She is a mother. Is it modesty? She is Lucretia Borgia. Does Merope hesitate when Polyphon orders the soldiers to strike Egisthe? "Barbarian! he is my son!" Her exclaims she; and yet this maternal cry must not save Egisthe, for Egisthe, as soon as he is recognized, is the enemy of Polyphon, and he has every thing to fear; while Gennaro, as soon as Lucrece shall have confessed him for her son, will have nothing more to fear from Alphonso. Why, then, does not the cry of Merope, this irresistible shriek, in beholding the sword suspended over the head of her son, proceed from the lips of Lucrece Borgia? For, in a word, she has prayed and entreated; she has been flattering, insinuating, and she has obtained nothing; she has menaced, she remembered the beautiful movement of Clytemnestra, who in the Orestes of Voltaire, defends her son against Egisthe, when this son came to Argos to sacrifice his mother; she has warned her fourth husband not to push her to extremities. Her threats have not succeeded any better than her entreaties. What, then, remains for her to do in order to save her son, but the heartrending cry of Merope? Yes, if Lucrece pronounces this solemn word, Gennaro is saved; but then, this would put an end to the piece; for it is this solemn word, which makes the denouement; it is this word, suspended during the whole drama, which the author reserves for the last; it is the word which explains and concludes all. As soon as this word is pronounced, the piece stops. Let it then be suspended, notwithstanding the peril of Gennaro. Let it be suspended, at the terrible moment when Lucrece pours out the poison for him, with her own hands, and presents to him the bowl, though we doubt whether the firmness of a mother has ever been exposed to a more severe trial. But take care! To suspend such a word, a great motive is necessary, another cause besides the necessity of the drama; the spectator must believe that the personage should have good reasons for not pronouncing the word which would explain every thing. Lucrece Borgia, you say, trusts to the counterpoison; she can save Gennaro, without yet confessing that he is her son. We acknowledge it. Let us examine this scene. Lucrece has remained alone with Gennaro : Donna Lucretia. Gennaro! you are poisoned! Donna Lucretia. Poisoned ! Gennaro. I could have doubted of it, the poison having been poured out by you. Donna Lucretia. Oh! do not overwhelm me, Gennaro; do not take away from me the little strength which I have left, and of which I stand in need for some moments.-Hear me. The Duke is jealous of you, the Duke believes you to be my lover. The Duke has left me no other alternative but to see you poniarded by Rustighello in my presence, or to pour out the poison for you myself; a dreadful poison, Gennaro, a poison at which the idea alone, makes every Italian grow pale, who knows the history of the last twenty years... Gennaro. Yes, the poison of the Borgia! Donna Lucretia. You have drunk of it. Nobody in the world knows the antidote to this terrible composition, except the Pope, M. De Valentinois, and myself. Hold: see this phial, which I always carry concealed under my girdle. This phial, Gennaro, is life, is health, is safety. A single drop on your lips, and you are saved. Gennaro (looking at her fixedly). Madam, who are you, who tell me that that is not poison? Donna Lucretia (overwhelmed). O my God! my God! An awful situation! Lucrece Borgia is punished for her crimes by the very distrust with which they inspire her son, when she wishes to save him. It is the most terrible chastisement which can be inflicted on a mother. There is one word, however, which would prove to Gennaro that Lucrece, at this moment, does not offer him the poison; it is this word, always suspended, this single word : You are my son! Lucrece could have been silent when the sword was lifted to slay her son, when the poison was poured out, when she herself had offered it to Gennaro, when Gennaro had drunk it; she could have been silent before all of these perils, although every other mother would have spoken: she knew that there still remained a way to save her son. But we see that this way escaped her by the very distrust of her son. How, then, is she to convince him; and how is she to save him? By a single word: You are my son! Why does she not pronounce it? What can prevent her? Has she other words better than this word, to persuade Gennaro? Does she fear, after having heard this solemn word, that Gennaro would still insult and curse her? No: the sentiments of the human heart know their rights and their dignity. Lucrece is a mother, and by this title she knows that she must be respected by her son. Let all insult and abuse her; let her be for all others, a poisoner, adulterous and incestuous; for her son, she is a mother; and if he insults her, he would become as criminal and detestable as she. When we hear Gennaro exclaiming to himself: "What wretch, abandoned of heaven, would wish to be born of such a mother? To be the son of Lucrece Borgia! To say my mother, to Lucrece Borgia !"—we are horrified at those involuntary blasphemies, and we ask with a kind of anger, why this miserable woman, who has been outraged, does not at last revolt against the insult offered to her! Why she does not announce to this implacable avenger, in order to punish him in his turn: You are my son !-Chide him then, Madam, we conjure you; chide him, so that you may convince him that you do not wish to poison him: for your maternal heart must rebel against this defiance and distrust; chide him, so that he may change his insults into tears, and his maledictions into prayers for your maternal pride must also be indignant against this sacrilegious anger. Let him, in short, weep; let him weep over you and over himself. Change into horror and pity this terror which hangs over this scene; and as the spectators can only be moved to pity by the emotion of the characters of the drama, make your son recognize you, and weep over you and himself; over you, who love him in spite of your remorse, and with so much love; over himself, the only man in the world who is bound to respect you, but to whom this respect must become so much the more sacred as it is the more painful. Do not fear, all degraded as you are by your crimes, to attest the majesty of the maternal character; this majesty is sacred even in you! : Crébillon, in one of his worst pieces, his Semiramis, has not forgotten this respect which mothers have a right to expect from their sons, and has made of it a very moving tragedy. Mermicede reveals to Ninias, concealed under the name of Agenor, that Semiramis is his mother-Semiramis, who is scarcely less criminal than Lucrece Borgia; and Mermecide pities Agenor for having such a mother. Agenor.-Mermecide, stop! she is my mother, and I wish And I do not intend that any other should forget it. Act iv. scene 8. We have seen Lucrece saving her son as Merope did. Let us now see Lucrece killed by Gennaro, as was Semira mis by Ninias, and compare, in this relation, the tragedy of Voltaire with the drama of Victor Hugo. Lucrece has been insulted at Venice, by five friends of Gennaro, and has sworn to avenge herself upon them. These five young men, who had come on an embassy to Ferrara, sup with the Princess Negroni, and at this supper they are poisoned. At the very moment when they feel the effects of the poison, Lucrece appears, and tells them that they have only a few minutes to live. She at the same time shows the monks who were charged to hear their confession, and the coffins which are prepared for their bodies. There are five coffins, one for each of these lords. Lucrece triumphs in her revenge. At this moment Gennaro, whom she did not see until then-whom she believed to be far from Ferrara, and who, in order not to quit his brother in arms, Maffio Orsini, has supped with him at the Princess Negroni's, and has been poisoned with him-Gennaro pushes aside his five friends and advances towards Lucrece, saying to her: Gennaro. We must have a sixth coffin, madam! Donna Lucretia. Heavens! Gennaro. Himself. Gennaro ! Donna Lucretia. Let every one leave here! Let them leave us alone. Gubetta, whatever may happen, whatever they may hear without of what is passing within here, let no one enter! Gubetta. Very well, madam. Thus this son, whom she had saved with so much dif ficulty, she recovers again, and he is about to die. Gennaro, however, has the antidote with him: he will only die then if he wishes it; but as there is not in the phial enough liquid. to save his five friends, since he has scarcely enough for himself alone, Gennaro breaks the phial without drinking the antidote; then, taking a knife from the banquet table, he announces to Lucrece that he is about to kill her, in order to expiate her crimes. Gennaro. Make your prayer, madam, and poisoned, and have no time to wait. Donna Lucretia. Ah! That cannot be. naro can kill me! Is that possible? make it short. I am Ah, well, yes, Gen Gennaro. It is certain, madam, and I swear to God that if I were in your place, I would begin to pray in silence, with clasped hands, and on both knees. Hold; here is an arm-chair which will do for that purpose. |