Paris and the Parisians in 1835 Volume II Part 17

"CATARINA.

"Laisse-la prier.--Helas! ... moi, cela ne me fait rien de prier!"

This, I suspect, is what is called "the natural vein," in which consists the peculiar merit of this new style of writing. After this charming burst of natural feeling, the Podesta's virtuous lady goes on with her lament.

"CATARINA.

"Il y a cinq semaines--cinq semaines eternelles que je ne l'ai vu!...

Je suis enfermee, gardee, en prison. Je le voyais une heure de tems en tems: cette heure si etroite, et si vite fermee, c'etait le seul _soupirail_[1] par ou entrait un peu d'air et de soleil dans ma vie.

Maintenant tout est mure.... Oh Rodolpho!... Dafne, nous avons pa.s.se, lui et moi, de bien douces heures!... Est-ce que c'est coupable tout ce que je dis la de lui? Non, n'est-ce pas?"

Now you must know, that this Signor Rodolpho plays the part of gallant to both these ladies, and, though intended by the author for another of his estimable personages, is certainly, by his own showing, as great a rascal as can well be imagined. He loves only the wife, and not the mistress of Angelo; and though he permits her par complaisance to be his mistress too, he addresses her upon one occasion, when she is giving way to a fit of immoderate fondness, with great sincerity.

"RODOLPHO.

"Prenez garde, Tisbe, ma famille est une famille fatale. Il y a sur nous une prediction, une destinee qui s'accomplit presque inevitablement de pere en fils. Nous tuons qui nous aime."

From this pa.s.sage, and one before quoted, it should seem, I think, that notwithstanding all the innovations of M. Hugo, he has still a lingering reverence for the immutable power of destiny which overhangs the cla.s.sic drama. How otherwise can he explain these two mystic sentences?--"Ma famille est une famille fatale. Il y a sur nous une destinee qui s'accomplit de pere en fils." And this other: "La haine c'est dans notre sang: il faut toujours qu'un Malipieri ha.s.se quelqu'un."

The only other character of importance is a very mysterious one called h.o.m.odei; and I think I may best describe him in the words of the excellent burlesque which has already been brought out upon this "Angelo" at the Vaudeville. There they make one of the dramatis personae, when describing this very incomprehensible h.o.m.odei, say of him,--

"C'est le plus grand dormeur de France et de Navarre."

In effect, he far out-sleeps the dozing sentinels in the "Critic;" for he goes on scene after scene sleeping apparently as sound as a top, till all on a sudden he starts up wide awake, and gives us to understand that he too is exceedingly in love with Madame la Podesta, but that he has been rejected. He therefore determines to do her as much mischief as possible, observing that "Un Sbire (for such is his humble rank) qui aime est bien pet.i.t--un Sbire qui se venge est bien grand."

This great but rejected Sbire, however, is not contented with avenging himself on Catarina for her scorn, but is pushed, by his destiny, I presume, to set the whole company together by the ears.

He first brings Rodolpho into the bed-room of Catarina, then brings the jealous Tisbe there to look at them, and finally contrives that the Tyrant himself should find out his wife's little innocent love affair--for innocent she declares it is.

Fortunately, during this unaccountable reunion in the chamber of Madame, la Tisbe discovers that her mother the ballad-singer's crucifix is in the possession of her rival Catarina; whereupon she not only decides upon resigning her claim upon the heart of Signor Rodolpho in her favour, but determines upon saving her life from the fury of her jealous husband, who has communicated to the Tisbe, as we have seen above, his intention of killing his wife, because "il faut toujours qu'un Malipieri ha.s.se quelqu'un."

Fortunately, again, it happens that the Tisbe has communicated to her lover the Tyrant, in a former conversation, the remarkable fact that another lover still had once upon a time made her a present of two phials--one black, the other white--one containing poison, the other a narcotic. After he has discovered Catarina's innocent weakness for Rodolpho, he informs the Tisbe that the time is come for him to kill his lady, and that he intends to do it by cutting her head off privately. The Tisbe tells him that this is a bad plan, and that poison would do much better.

"ANGELO.

"Oui! Le poison vaudrait mieux. Mais il faudrait un poison rapide, et, _vous ne me croirez pas_, je n'en ai pas ici.

"LA TISBE.

"J'en ai, moi.

"ANGELO.

"Ou?

"LA TISBE.

"Chez moi.

"ANGELO.

"Quel poison?

"LA TISBE.

"Le poison Malispine, _vous savez_: cette boite que m'a envoyee le primicier de Saint Marc."

After this satisfactory explanation, Angelo accepts her offer, and she trots away home and brings him the phial containing the narcotic.

The absurdity of the scene that takes place when Angelo and the Tisbe are endeavouring to persuade Catarina to consent to be killed is such, that nothing but transcribing the whole can give you an idea of it: but it is too long for this. Believe me, we were not the only part of the audience that laughed at this scene _a gorge deployee_.

Angelo begins by asking if she is ready.

"CATARINA.

"Prete a quoi?

"ANGELO.

"A mourir.

"CATARINA.

"... Mourir! Non, je ne suis pas prete. Je ne suis pas prete. Je ne suis pas prete _du tout_, monsieur!

"ANGELO.

"Combien de temps vous faut-il pour vous preparer?

"CATARINA.

"Oh! je ne sais pas--beaucoup de temps!"

Angelo tells her she shall have an hour, and then leaves her alone: upon which she draws aside a curtain and discovers a block and an axe.

She is naturally exceedingly shocked at this spectacle; her soliloquy is sublime!

"CATARINA (_replacing the curtain_).

"Derriere moi! c'est derriere moi. Ah! vous voyez bien que ce n'est pas un reve, et que c'est bien reel ce qui pa.s.se ici, puisque _voila des choses la derriere le rideau_!"

Corneille! Racine! Voltaire!--This is tragedy,--tragedy played on the stage of the Theatre Francais--tragedy which it has been declared in the face of day shall "lift the ground from under you!" Such is the march of mind!

After this glorious soliloquy, her lover Rodolpho pays Catarina a visit--again in her bed-room, in her guarded palace, surrounded by spies and sentinels. How he gets there, it is impossible to guess: but in the burlesque at the Vaudeville they make this matter much clearer;--for there these unaccountable entrees are managed at one time by the falling down of a wall; at another, by the lover's rising through the floor like a ghost; and at another, by his coming flying down on a wire from an opening in the ceiling like a Cupid.