BROWNING'S ITALY (12 page)

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"Almost every room in the palace is filled with pictures, none indifferent; most of them by the best Flemish masters. The whole collection, except a very small number, be-longed to prince Eugene and were bought after his death by the present King of Sar-dinia. The floors of the King's apartments are inlaid, and so nicely kept that you view yourself as you walk upon them. The chapel, which opens into the great church, is not answerable to any other part of the palace. It is clean, but it is heavy and dis-mal. The pillars are of black marble. The lamps and tapers give little light and less cheerfulness. At the first entrance it appears like a melancholy mausoleum.

"The king in his younger days is said to have been of a gay and sprightly disposition; but soon after the death of his father he con-tracted a more serious behavior, which is now growing apace into the melancholy of devotion.

"One particular anecdote of the Sardinian monarch was related to me, as a certain truth. If the eagerness of the chase happens accidentally to lead him near Montcallier, he turns his eyes and horse as fast as possible from the Castle. His father died there under such circumstances as must affect a son.

"Victor Amadeus, father of the present King of Sardinia, had made a considerable figure in the annals of Europe. He had appeared a great soldier, and was known to be a great politician. In the decline of his life, the latter part of that character was not a little sullied. He involved himself in a disadvantageous treaty with France, and he degraded his royalty by a marriage. The lady, whom he chose for his wife, in the same private manner that the famous Maintenon had been chosen by Lewis XIV, was called Madam de Sebastien. She was the widow of an officer of that name. She had been maid of honor to the King's mother. She was at that time extremely handsome, but always of an intriguing, ambitious temper. The King had paid his addresses to her not unsuccessfully in his youth. Now finding himself absolutely constrained to fulfil his impolitic engagements with France, he deter-mined to resign his crown to his son, who being under no such engagements, might openly repair the injudicious step which his father had taken. On one and the same day Amadeus delivered up his crown and married his former mistress, whom he had not long before created Marchioness di Spigno, a town in Italy in the duchy of

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Montferat. His abdication was public; his marriage was private. The King and the Marchioness immediately retired to Cham-b&y. The young King soon acted the part in which he had been fully instructed by his father, mingling with it a scene or two of his own. He discarded King Victor's ministers and favorites, but still maintained all the outward tokens of duty and respect, which he owed his father, who soon grew impatient and weary of retirement, and wished to return to business, power and a throne. His new consort was equally desirous to taste the splendor of a crown, and to command in the circle of a court. They both repented, not of their marriage, but of their retreat.

" Chamb&y,in its utmost magnificence, was too melancholy a Situation and had too much the air of a prison to calm and alleviate the struggles of such restless minds. The King and the lady kept up a constant correspond-ence with the discontented Piedmontese, especially those in Turin. A plot was fonned. The King was to dethrone his son, and to reassume the reins of government. Meas-ures to this end were taken with all possible secrecy. The King complained of the air of Chamb&y. His son attended to his com-plaint with the deepest filial attachment.

Amadeus was permitted to approach nearer to the capital. He came to Rivoli, that hunting seat which I mentioned in my last, The air of Rivoli disagreed with him. He was suffered to come still nearer, and was lodged at his own request in the Castle of Montcallier, a noble palace within a very little distance of Turin. There the embers of ambition soon kindled into a flame. The fire was on the point of breaking out when the heat of it began to be feit by the young king and his ministers. They had only time to stop Amadeus as he was going into his coach under a pretence of visiting, but with a resolution of seizing the citadel of Turin. In a moment he became his son's prisoner in the Castle of Montcallier. His wife was abruptly torn from him. They met no more. He was treated with respect, but guarded with the dosest strictness. He often desired to see his son. The interview was promised, but the promise was not performed. Rage, grief and disappointment ended, in less than two years, the life of this unhappy prince, whose sunset was excessively languid in comparison of his meridian glory.

" Affairs of state probably constrained the present king to act as he did; but deep has been the impression which his father's catas-

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trophe has left on his mind. Perhaps the late King extorted from his son a private promise of restoring the crown. Policy and majesty soon put a stop to the designs, if any, of answering that promise."

Here Browning deliberately departs from history and causes Charles to return the crown to his father. Loyalty and love to his father are the ruling impulses of Charles's life as the poet portrays him, and while he also has loyalty and love to his subjects, when these two come in conflict his devotion to his father conquers.

Beauregard emphasizes this filial devotion in his account of the scene between the father and son upon the former's resignation of the crown. "He called his son to him, and declared to him his design. The young prince, astonished, troubled, fearing perhaps that this overture was only a trap in Order to prove him, said to the King all that was proper to turn him from such a design. He prayed the King, if he really thought a time of repose was necessary to his health, to con-fer upon him the temporary exercise of authority, reserving the right to re-take the crown when he thought proper. He ended by throwing himself at his father's feet and conjuring him to change his resolution."

For the character of cTOrmea, the Minister in this play, the poet took a hint from Voltaire, "He was a man without birth, whom Victor found in utter misery. This minister had rendered him the Service of ending the differences with the Court of Rome, which had existed during a great part of his reign. He obtained for him a more favorable agree-ment than Victor had been able to obtain for himself." Of him, Blondel says, "he had more mind, more transcendent qualities, above all, more audacity and confidence in himself, than any of the other ministers. It is cer-tain he had all the favor of King Victor, He had many enemies, having, while he was manager of the finances, brought about the reunion of the fiefs with the domain, and treated with the Court of Rome. The nobility and clergy hated him."

In the play there are but four characters, Victor, Charles, d'Ormea, and Polyxena, the wife of Charles. The historical events are in reality merely the factors by means of which the natures of these four individuals reveal themselves.

Charles is made at first of a timid, vacil-lating nature, but the help and encourage-ment of his wife, combined with the sudden thrusting of power upon him make a man of

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him and he governs so well that he is much beloved by his people, Victor is an almost exact picture of the historical Victor, astute and unscrupulous, while d'Ormea, at first the match of his master in all underhanded schemes for self-advancement, is really won over to rectitude by the fine, unselfish nature of Charles,

To illustrate the masterful handling of his material by the poet we give the scene of Victor's abdication and the scene of his retaking of the Crown,

KING VICTOR

PART II

Erder Kino Victor, bearing the regalia on a cushion, jrom his apartment. He caüs Umdly —

D'Ormea! — for patience fails me, treading thus Among the obscure trains I have laid, — my knights Safe in the hall here — in that anteroom, My son, — D'Ormea, where ? Of this, one touch —

[Laying doivn the cr&wn. This fireball to these mute black cold trains — then Outbreak enough!

[Contemplating it.] To lose all, after all! This, glancing o'er my house for ages — shaped, Brave meteor, like the crown of Cyprus now, Jerusalem, Spain, England, every change The braver, — and when I have clutched a prize My ancestry died wan with watching for,

To lose it! — by a slip, a fault, a trick

Learnt to advantage once and not unlearned

When past the use, — "just this once more" (I thought)

"Use it with Spain and Austria happily,

And then away with trick!" An oversight

I'd have repaired thrice over, any time

These fifty years, must happen now! There's peace

At length; and I, to make the most of peace,

Ventured my project on our people here,

As needing not their help: which Europe knows,

And means, cold-blooded, to dispose herseif

(Apart from plausibilities of war)

To crush the new-made King — who ne'er tili now

Feared her. As Duke, I lost each foot of earth

And laughed at her: my name was left, my sword

Left, all was left! But she can take, she knows.

This crown, herseif conceded . . .

Thafs to try, Kind Europe! — My career's not closed as yet! This boy was ever subject to my will, Timid and tarne — the fitter! — D'Ormea, too — What if the sovereign also rid himself Of thee, his prime of parasites ? — I delay! D'Ormea!

(As D'Ormea enters, the King seats himself.) My son, the Prince — attends he ?

D'O. Sir,

He does attend. The crown prepared! — it seems That you persist in your resolve.

Victor. Who's come ?

The chancellor and the chamberlain ? My knights ?

D'O. The whole Annunziata ? If, my liege, Your fortune had not tottered worse than now . . .

Vic. Del Borgo has drawn up the schedules ? mine —

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My son's, too ? Excellent! Only, beware Of the least blunder, or we look but fools. First, you read the Annulment of the Oaths; Del Borgo follows . . . no, the Prince shall sign; Then let Del Borgo read the Instrument: On which, I enter.

D'O. Sir, this may be truth;

You, sir, may do as you affect — may break Your engine, me, to pieces: try at least If not a spring remain worth saving! Take My counsel as I've counselled many times! What if the Spaniard and the Austrian threat ? There's England, Holland, Venice — which ally Select you ?

Via Aha! Come, D'Ormea, — "truth"

Was on your lip a minute since. Allies ? IVe broken faith with Venice, Holland, England — As who knows if not you ?

D'O. But why with me

Break faith — with one ally, your best, break faith ?

Vic. When first I stumbled on you, Marquis — 'twas At Mondovi — a little lawyer's clerk . . •

D'O. Therefore your soul's ally! — who brought you through Your quarrel with the Pope, at pains enough — Who simply echoed you in these affairs! On whom you cannot therefore visit these Affairs' ill fortune — whom you trust to guide You safe (yes, on my soul) through these affairs!

Vic. I was about to notice, had you not Prevented me, that since that great town kept With its chicane D'Ormea's satchel stuffed And D'Ormea's seif sufficiently recluse, He missed a sight, — my naval armament

When I burned Toulon. How the skiff exults Upon the gaüiot's wave! — rises its height, O'ertops it even; but the great wave bursts, And hell-deep in the horrible profound Buries itself the galliot: shall the skiff Think to escape the sea's black trough in turn ? Apply this: you have been my minister

— Next me, above me possibly; — sad post, Huge care, abundant lack of peace of mind; Who would desiderate the eminence ?

You gave your soul to get it; you'd yet give Your soul to keep it, as I mean you shall, D'Ormea! What if the wave ebbed with me? Whereas it cants you to another crest; I toss you to my son; ride out your ride!

D'O. Ah, you so much despise me ?

Vic. You, D'Ormea ?

Nowise: and 111 inform you why. A king Must in his time have many ministers, And IVe been rash enough to part with mine When I thought proper. Of the tribe, not one (. . . . Or wait, did Pianezze? . . . ah, just the same!) Not one of them, ere his remonstrance reached The length of yours, but has assured me (commonly Standing much as you stand, — or nearer, say, The door to make his exit on his speech)

— I should repent of what I did. D'Ormea, Be candid, you approached it when I bade you Prepare the schedules! But you stopped in time, You have not so assured me: how should I Despise you then ?

{Erder Charles.) Vic. [Changing his tone.] Are you instructed ? Do My order, point by point! About it, sir!

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D'O. You so despise me! [Aride,] One last stay re-mains — The boy's discretion there.

[To Cha.] For your sake, Prince, I pleaded, wholly in your interest, To save you from this fate!

Cha. [Aside.] Must I be told

The Prince was supplicated for — by him ?