The Works of the British Poets: Selected and Chronologically Arranged ...

JOANNA BAILLIE.

JOANNA BAILLIE, sister of the celebrated Dr. Matthew Baillie, was born at Bothwell, in Scotland, about the year 1765. We have been unable to collect any particulars of her life, but she is well known to the public as one of the most successful female writers of the present age. Her most celebrated production is her Plays of the Passions; a series in which each passion is made the subject of a tragedy and a comedy. These procured her great reputation, particularly her tragedies, which evince strong conceptions of character, vivid imagery, and a masterly delineation of the various

passions. Her plays, however, have not the tran scendent dramatic merit which has been claimed for them by some of her admirers. She is by no means a Shakspeare. One of her most recent publications is, A View of the general Tenor of the New Testament, regarding the Nature and Dignity of Jesus Christ. She is also the author of The Family Legend, a tragedy; Metrical Legends, or Exalted Characters; two dramas, entitled, respectively,The Martyr, and The Bride; and a volume of dramas, very recently published.

BASIL.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

COUNT BASIL,

COUNT ROSINBERG,

DUKE OF MANTUA.

GAURICEIO,

VALTOMER,
FREDERICK,

GEOFFRY,

MIRANDO,

MEN.

Old Man. Bears she such offerings to St. Francis'
shrine,

So rich, so marvellous rich, as rumour says?
-Twill drain the treasury!

Cit. Since she, in all this splendid pomp, returns

a general in the emperor's service. Her public thanks to the good patron saint,

his friend.

his minister.

Two officers of Basil's troops.

an old soldier very much maimed
in the wars.

a little boy, favourite to Victoria.

WOMEN.

VICTORIA,
daughter to the Duke of Mantua.
COUNTESS OF ALBINI, friend and governess to Victoria.
ISABELLA,
a lady attending upon Victoria.
Officers, soldiers, and attendants, masks, dancers, &c.

The scene is in Mantua and its environs. Time supposed to be the sixteenth century, when Charles the Fifth defeated Francis the First, at the battle of Pavia.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—AN OPEN STREET, CROWDED WITH PEOPLE
WHO SEEM TO BE WAITING IN EXPECTATION OF

SOME SHOW.

Enter a CITIZEN.

Who from his sick-bed hath restored her father,
Thou wouldst not have her go with empty hands?
She loves magnificence-

(Discovering among the crowd old Geoffry,)
Ha! art thou here, old remnant of the wars?
Thou art not come to see this courtly show,
Which sets the young agape?

Geof. I come not for the show; and yet, methinks,
It were a better jest upon me still,

If thou didst truly know mine errand here.
Cit. I prithee say.
Geof.

What, must I tell it thee?
As o'er my evening fire I musing sat,
Some few days since, my mind's eye backward turn'd
Upon the various changes I have pass'd-
How in my youth, with gay attire allured,
And all the grand accoutrements of war,

I left my peaceful home: Then my first battles,
When clashing arms and sights of blood were new:
Then all the after chances of the war:
Ay, and that field, a well-fought field it was,

First Man. Well, friend, what tidings of the When with an arm (I speak not of it oft)

grand procession?

Cit. I left it passing by the northern gate.
Second Man. I've waited long, I'm glad it comes

at last.

Which now (pointing to his empty sleeve) thou
seest is no arm of mine,

In a straight pass I stopp'd a thousand foes,
And turn'd my flying comrades to the charge,

Young Man. And does the princess look so won- For which good service, in his tented court,

'Twas a heart-kindling smile,—a smile of praise-
Well, musing thus on all my fortunes past,
A neighbour drew the latchet of my door,
And full of news from town, in many words

Big with rich names, told of this grand procession;
E'en as he spoke a fancy seized my soul
To see the princess pass, if in her looks

I yet might trace some semblance of her mother.
This is the simple truth; laugh as thou wilt.
- came not for the show.

Enter an OFFICER.

Officer to Geof. Make way that the procession may have room:

Stand you aside, and let this man have place. (Pushing Geof. and endeavouring to put another in his place.)

Geof. But that thou art the prince's officer, I'd give thee back thy push with better blows. Officer. What, wilt thou not give place? the prince is near:

I will complain to him, and have thee caged. Geof. Yes, do complain, I pray; and when thou dost,

Say that the private of the tenth brigade,

Who saved his army on the Danube's bank,
And since that time a private hath remain'd,
Dares, as a citizen, his right maintain
Against thy insolence. Go tell him this,
And ask him then what dungeon of his tower
He'll have me thrust into.

Cit. to Officer. This is old Geoffry of the tenth brigade.

Offi. I knew him not: you should have told me sooner. [EXIT, looking much ashamed.

Martial music heard at a distance.

Cit. Hark, this is music of a warlike kind.

Enter Second CITIZEN.

Enter Count BASIL, officers and soldiers in procession, with colours flying, and martial music. When they have marched halfway over the stage, an officer of the duke's enters from the opposite side, and speaks to BASIL upon which he gives a sign with his hand, and the martial music ceases; soft music is heard at a little distance, and VICTORIA, with a long procession of ladies, enters from the opposite side. General, &c. pay obeisance to her, as she passes; she stops to return it, and then goes off with her train. After which, the military procession moves on, and exeunt.

Cit. to Geof. What think'st thou of the princess? Geof. She is fair, But not so fair as her good mother was. [EXEUNT.

SCENE II.—A PUBLIC WALK ON THE RAMPARTS OF

THE TOWN.

Enter COUNT ROSINBERG, VALTOMER, and FREDERICK.— .VALTOMER enters by the opposite side of the stage, and meets them.

Valt. O what a jolly town for way-worn soldiers! Rich steaming pots, and smell of dainty fare, From every house salutes you as you pass: Light feats and juggler's tricks attract the eye; Music and merriment in every street; Whilst pretty damsels, in their best attire, Trip on in wanton groups, then look behind, To spy the fools a gazing after them.

Fred. But short will be the season of our ease, For Basil is of flinty matter made,

And cannot be allured

To Sec. Cit. What sounds are these, good friend, 'Faith, Rosinberg, I would thou didst command us.

which this way bear?

Sec. Cit. The brave Count Basil is upon his march, To join the emperor with some chosen troops, And as an ally doth through Mantua pass.

Geof. I've heard a good report of this young soldier. Sec. Cit. 'Tis said he disciplines his men severely, And over-much the old commander is, Which seems ungracious in so young a man.

Geof. I know he loves not ease and revelry;

He makes them soldiers at no dearer rate

Thou art his kinsman, of a rank as noble, Some years his elder too-How has it been That he should be preferr'd? I see not why.

Ros. Ah! but I see it, and allow it well; He is too much my pride to wake my envy.

Fred. Nay, count, it is thy foolish admiration Which raises him to such superior height; And truly thou hast so infected us,

That I at times have felt me awed before him, I knew not why. 'Tis cursed folly this.

Than he himself hath paid. What, dost thou think, Thou art as brave, of as good parts as he.

That e'en the very meanest simple craft

Cannot without due diligence be learn'd,

And yet the noble art of soldiership

May be attain'd by loitering in the sun?
Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honour's field,
Still on their dinner turn-

Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home,
And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.
In times of easy service, true it is,
An easy, careless chief all soldiers love;
But O! how gladly in the day of battle
Would they their jolly bottle-chief desert,
And follow such a leader as Count Basil!
So gathering herds, at pressing danger's call,
Confess the master deer.

Ros. Our talents of a different nature are;
Mine for the daily intercourse of life,
And his for higher things.

Fred. Well, praise him as thou wilt; I see it not I'm sure I am as brave a man as he.

Ros. Yes, brave thou art, but 'tis subalterr

bravery,

And doth respect thyself. Thou'lt bleed as well,
Give and receive as deep a wound as he.
When Basil fights he wields a thousand swords;
For 'tis their trust in his unshaken mind,
O'erwatching all the changes of the field,
Calm and inventive midst the battle's storm,
Which makes his soldiers bold.—

There have been those, in early manhood slain,
Whose great heroic souls have yet inspired

With such a noble zeal their generous troops, That to their latest day of bearing arms,

Their gray-hair'd soldiers have all dangers braved
Of desperate service, claim'd with boastful pride,
As those who fought beneath them in their youth.
Such men have been; of whom it may be said,
Their spirits conquer'd when their clay was cold.
Valt. Yes, I have seen in the eventful field,
When new occasion mock'd all rules of art,
E'en old commanders hold experience cheap,
And look to Basil ere his chin was dark.

Ros. One fault he has; I know but only one; I too great love of military fame

Absorbs his thoughts, and makes him oft appear Unsocial and severe.

Fred. Well, feel I not undaunted in the field?

As much enthusiastic love of glory?

Why am I not as good a man as he?

Ros. It is a fair one, though you mark'd it not.
Valt. I wish some painter's eye had view'd the
group,

As she and all her lovely damsels pass'd;
He would have found wherewith t' enrich his art.

Ros. I wish so too; for oft their fancied beauties
Have so much cold perfection in their parts,
'Tis plain they ne'er belong'd to flesh and blood.
This is not truth, and doth not please so well
As the varieties of liberal nature,

Where every kind of beauty charms the eye;
Large and small featured, flat and prominent,
Ay, by the mass! and snub-nosed beauties too.
'Faith, every woman hath some witching charm,
If that she be not proud, or captious.

Valt. Demure, or over-wise, or given to freaks.
Ros. Or given to freaks! hold, hold, good Valto-
mer!

Ros. He's form'd for great occasions, thou for Thou'lt leave no woman handsome under heaven.

small.

Valt. But small occasions in the path of life
Lie thickly sown, while great are rarely scatter'd.
Ros. By which you would infer that men like
Frederick

Should on the whole a better figure make,
Than men of higher parts. It is not so;
For some show well, and fair applauses gain,
Where want of skill in other men is graceful.
Pray do not frown, good Frederick, no offence:
Thou canst not make a great man of thyself;
Yet wisely deign to use thy native powers,
And prove an honour'd courtly gentleman.
But hush! no more of this; here Basil comes.

Enter BASIL, who returns their salute without speaking.

Ros. What think'st thou, Valtomer, of Mantua's

princess?

Valt. But I must leave you for an hour or so;

I mean to view the town.
Fred. I'll go with thee.

Ros.

And so will I.

[EXEUNT Valt. Fred, and Ros. Re-enter RoSINBERG.

Ros. I have repented me, I will not go; They will be too long absent.-(Pauses, and looks at Basil, who remains still musing without seeing him.)

What mighty thoughts engage my pensive friend? Bas. O it is admirable!

Ros. How runs thy fancy? what is admirable? Bas. Her form, her face, her motion, every thing! Ros. The princess? yes, have we not praised her much?

Bas. I know you praised her, and her offerings too!

Valt. Fame praised her much, but hath not She might have given the treasures of the east,

praised her more

Than on a better proof the eye consents to. With all that grace and nobleness of mien, She might do honour to an emperor's throne; She is too noble for a petty court.

[assent.)

Is it not so, my lord To Basil, who only bows
Nay, she demeans herself with so much grace,
Such easy state, such gay magnificence,
She should be queen of revelry and show.
Fred. She's charming as the goddess of delight.
Valt. But after her, she most attracted me
Who wore the yellow scarf and walk'd the last;
For though Victoria is a lovely woman-

Fred. Nay, it is treason but to call her woman;
She's a divinity, and should be worshipp'd.
But on my life, since now we talk of worship,
She worshipp'd Francis with right noble gifts!
They sparkled so with gold and precious gems-
Their value must be great; some thousand crowns.
Ros. I would not rate them at a price so mean;
The cup alone, with precious stones beset,
Would fetch a sum as great. That olive branch
The princess bore herself, of fretted gold,
Was exquisitely wrought. I mark'd it more,
Because si e held it in so white a hand.

Ere I had known it.

O! didst thou mark her when she first appear'd?
Still distant, slowly moving with her train;
Her robe and tresses floating on the wind,
Like some light figure in a morning cloud?
Then, as she onward to the eye became
The more distinct, how lovelier still she grew!
That graceful bearing of her slender form;
Her roundly spreading breast, her towering neck,
Her face tinged sweetly with the bloom of youth--
But when approaching near, she towards us turn'd,
Kind mercy! what a countenance was there!
And when to our salute she gently bow'd,
Didst mark that smile rise from her parting ps?
Soft swell'd her glowing cheek, her eyes smiled
too:

O how they smiled! 'twas like the beams of heaven!

I felt my roused soul within me start,
Like something waked from sleep.

Ros. The beams of heaven do many slumberers
wake

To care and misery!

Bas. There's something grave and solemn in your voice

Bas. (in a quick voice.) Mark'd you her hand? As you pronounce these words. What dost thou

I did not see her hand.

And yet she waved it twice.

mean?

Thou wouldst not sound my knell ?

Ros. No, not for all beneath the vaulted sky! But to be plain, thus warmly from your lips, Her praise displeases me. To men like you, If love should come, he proves no easy guest.

Bas. What, dost thou think I am beside myself, And cannot view the fairness of perfection With that delight which lovely beauty gives, Without tormenting me with fruitless wishes, Like the poor child who sees its brighten'd face, And whimpers for the moon? Thou art not serious. From early youth, war has my mistress been, And though a rugged one, I'll constant prove, And not forsake her now. There may be joys Which, to the strange o'erwhelming of the soul, Visit the lover's breast beyond all others; E'en now, how dearly do I feel there may ! But what of them? they are not made for meThe hasty flashes of contending steel Must serve instead of glances from my love, And for soft breathing sighs the cannon's roar. Ros. (taking his hand.) Now I am satisfied. Forgive me, Basil.

Ras. I'm glad thou art; we'll talk of her no more ;

Why should I vex my friend?

Ros. Thou hast not issued orders for the march. Bas. I'll do it soon; thou need'st not be afraid, To morrow's sun shall bear us far from hence, Never perhaps to pass these gates again.

For me there is but one of all the sex,
Who still shall hold her station in my breast,
Midst all the changes of inconstant fortune;
Because I'm passing sure she loves me well,
And for my sake a sleepless pillow finds
When rumour tells bad tidings of the war ;
Because I know her love will never change,
Nor make me prove uneasy jealousy.

Bas. Happy art thou! who is this wondrou woman?

Ros. It is mine own good mother, faith and truth!

-Bas. (smiling.) Give ne thy hand; I love her dearly too.

Rivals we are not, though our love is one.

Ros. And yet I might be jealous of her love, For she bestows too much of it on thee, Who hast no claim but to a nephew's share. Bas. (going.) I'll meet thee some time hence. I must to court.

Ros. A private conference will not stay thee long I'll wait thy coming near the palace gate.

Bas. "Tis to the public court I mean to go. Ros. I thought you had determined otherwise. Bas. Yes, but on farther thought it did appear As though it would be failing in respect

At such a time-That look doth wrong me, Rosin

berg!

For on my life, I had determined thus,

Ros. With last night's close, did you not curse Ere I beheld-before we enter'd Mantua.

Bas. The sight of what may be but little prized, Which first thou gavest me--I shall ne'er forget it. Doth cause a solemn sadness in the mind, When view'd as that we ne'er shall sec again.

Ros. No, not a whit to wandering men like us. No, not a whit! What custom hath endear'd We part with sadly, though we prize it not: But what is new some powerful charm must own, Thus to affect the mind.

'Twas at Vienna, on a public day;

Thou but a youth, I then a man full form'd;
Thy stripling's brow graced with its first cockade,
Thy mighty bosom swell'd with mighty thoughts.
"Thou'rt for the court, dear Rosinberg," quoth

thou!

"Now pray thee be not caught with some gay dame.

Bas. (hastily.) We'll let it pass-It hath no To laugh and ogle, and befool thyself:

consequence :

Thou art impatient.

Ros. I'm not impatient. 'Faith, I only wish Some other route our destined march had been, That still thou mightst thy glorious course pursue With an untroubled mind.

Bas. O wish it, wish it not! bless'd be that route !

What we have seen to-day, I must remember-
I should be brutish if I could forget it.
Oft in the watchful post, or weary march,
Oft in the nightly silence of my tent,
My fixed mind shall gaze upon it still;
But it will pass before my fancy's eye,
Like some delightful vision of the soul,
To soothe, not trouble it.

Ros. What! midst the dangers of eventful war,
Still let thy mind be haunted by a woman?
Who would, perhaps, hear of thy fall in battle,
As Dutchmen read of earthquakes in Calabria,
And never stop to cry alack-a-day!'

Note. My first idea, when I wrote this play, was to represent Basil as having seen Victoria for the first time in the procession, that I might show more perfectly the passion from its first beginning, and also its sudden power over the mind; but I was induced from the criticism of one, whose judgment I very much respect, to alter it, and represent him as having formerly seen and loved her. The first review that took notice of this work objected to Basil's having seen her before as a defect; and, as we are all easily determined to follow our own opinion, I have

« Previous Continue »

Books

The Works of the British Poets: Selected and Chronologically ..., Volume 3