We rest--a dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise--one wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away.
Shelley.
The tale of Balthazar was simple but eloquent His union with Marguerite,
in spite of the world's obloquy and injustice, had been blest by the wise
and merciful Being who knew how to temper the wind to the shorn lamb.
"We knew we were all to each other," he continued, after briefly alluding
to the early history of their births and love; "and we felt the necessity
of living for ourselves. Ye that are born to honors, who meet with smiles
and respectful looks in all ye meet, can know little of the feeling which
binds together the unhappy. When God gave us our first-born, as he lay a
smiling babe in her lap, looking up into her eye with the innocence that
most likens man to angels, Marguerite shed bitter tears at the thought of
such a creature's being condemned by the laws to shed the blood of men.
The reflection that he was to live for ever an outcast from his kind was
bitter to a mother's heart. We had made many offers to the canton to be
released ourselves, from this charge; we had prayed them--Herr Melchior,
you should know how earnestly we have prayed the council, to be suffered
to live like others, and without this accursed doom--but they would not.
They said the usage was ancient, that change was dangerous, and that what
God willed must come to pass. We could not bear that the burthen we found
so hard to endure ourselves should go down for ever as a curse upon our
descendants, Herr Doge," he continued, raising his meek face in the pride
of honesty; "it is well for those who are the possessors of honors to be
proud of their privileges; but when the inheritance is one of wrongs and
scorn, when the evil eyes of our fellows are upon us, the heart sickens.
Such was our feeling when we looked upon our first-born. The wish to save
him from our own disgrace was uppermost, and we bethought us of the
means."
"Ay!" sternly interrupted Marguerite, "I parted with my child, and
silenced a mother's longings, proud nobles, that he might not become the
tool of your ruthless policy; I gave up a mother's joy in nourishing and
in cherishing her young, that the little innocent might live among his
fellows, as God had created him, their equal and not their victim!"
Balthazar paused, as was usual with him when ever his energetic wife
manifested any of her strong and masculine qualities, and then, when deep
silence had followed her remark, he proceeded.
"We wanted not for wealth; all we asked was to be like others in the
world's respect. With our money it was very easy to find those in another
canton, who were willing to take the little Sigismund into their keeping.
After which, a feigned death, and a private burial, did the rest. The
deceit was easily practised, for as few cared for the griefs as for the
happiness of the headsman's family The child had drawn near the end of its
first year, when I was called upon to execute my office on a stranger. The
criminal had taken life in a drunken brawl in one of the towns of the
canton, and he was said to be a man that had trifled with the precious
gifts of birth, it being suspected that he was noble. I went with a heavy
heart, for never did I strike a blow without praying God it might be the
last; but it was heavier when I reached the place where the culprit
awaited his fate. The tidings of my poor son's death reached me as I put
foot on the threshold of the desolate prison, and I turned aside to weep
for my own woes, before I entered to see my victim. The condemned man had
great unwillingness to die; he had sent for me many hours before the fatal
moment, to make acquaintance, as he said, with the hand that was to
dispatch him to the presence of his last and eternal judge."
Balthazar paused; he appeared to meditate on a scene that had probably
left indelible impressions on his mind. Shuddering involuntarily, he
raised his eyes from the pavement of the chapel, and continued the
recital, always in the same subdued and tranquil manner.
"I have been the unwilling instrument of many a violent death--I have seen
the most reckless sinners in the agonies of sudden and compelled
repentance, but never have I witnessed so wild and fearful a struggle
between earth and heaven--the world and the grave--passion and the rebuke
of Providence--as attended the last hours of that unhappy man! There were
moments in which the mild spirit of Christ won upon his evil mood 'tis
true; but the picture was, in general, that of revenge so fierce, that the
powers of hell alone could give it birth in a human heart. He had with him
an infant of an age just, fitted to be taken from the breast. This child
appeared to awaken the fiercest conflicting feelings; he both yearned over
it and detested its sight, though hatred seemed most to prevail."
"This was horrible!" murmured the Doge.
"It was the more horrible, Herr Doge, that it should come from one who was
justly condemned to the axe. He rejected the priests; he would have naught
of any but me. My soul lothed the wretch--yet so few ever showed an
interest in us--and it would have been cruel to desert a dying man! At the
end, he placed the child in my care, furnishing more gold than was
sufficient to rear it frugally to the age of manhood, and leaving other
valuables which I have kept as proofs that might some day be useful. All I
could learn of the infant's origin was simply this. It came from Italy,
and of Italian parents; its mother died soon after its birth,"--a groan
escaped the Doge--"its father still lived, and was the object of the
criminal's implacable hatred, as its mother had been of his ardent love;
its birth was noble, and it had been baptized in the bosom of the church
by the name of Gaetano."
"It must be he!--it is--it must be my beloved son!--" exclaimed the Doge,
unable to control himself any longer. He spread wide his arms, and
Sigismund threw himself upon his bosom, though there still remained
fearful apprehensions that all he heard was a dream. "Go on--go
on--excellent Balthazar," added the Signor Grimaldi, drying his eyes, and
struggling to command himself. "I shall have no peace until all is
revealed to the last syllable of thy wonderful, thy glorious tale!"
"There remains but little more to say, Herr Doge. The fatal hour arrived,
and the criminal was transported to the place where he was to give up his
life. While seated in the chair in which he received the fatal blow, his
spirit underwent infernal torments. I have reason to think that there were
moments when he would gladly have made his peace with God. But the demons
prevailed; he died in his sins! From the hour when he committed the little
Gaetano to my keeping, I did not cease to entreat to be put in possession
of the secret of the child's birth, but the sole answer I received was an
order to appropriate the gold to my own uses, and to adopt the boy as my
own. The sword was in my hand, and the signal to strike was given, when,
for the last time, I asked the name of the infant's family and country, as
a duty I could not neglect. 'He is thine--he is thine--' was the answer;
'tell me, Balthazar, is thy office hereditary, as is wont in these
regions?' I was compelled, as ye know, to say it was. 'Then adopt the
urchin; rear him to fatten on the blood of his fellows!' It was mockery to
trifle with such a spirit. When his head fell, if still bad on its fierce
features traces of the infernal triumph with which his spirit departed!"
"The monster was a just sacrifice to the laws of the canton!" exclaimed
the single-minded bailiff. "Thou seest, Herr Melchior, that we do well in
arming the hand of the executioner, in spite of all the sentiment of the
weak-minded. Such a wretch was surely unworthy to live."
This burst of official felicitation from Peterchen, who rarely neglected
an occasion to draw a conclusion favorable to the existing order of
things, like most of those who reap their exclusive advantage, and to the
prejudice of innovation, produced little attention; all present were too
much absorbed in the facts related by Balthazar, to turn aside; to speak,
or think, of other matters.
"What became of the boy?" demanded the worthy clavier, who had taken as
deep an interest as the rest, in the progress of the narrative.
"I could not desert him, father; nor did I wish to. He came into my
guardianship at a moment when God, to reprove our repinings at a lot that
he had chosen to impose, had taken our own little Sigismund to heaven. I
filled the place of the dead infant with my living charge; I gave to him
the name of my own son, and I can say confidently, that I transferred to
him the love I had borne my own issue; though time, and use, and a
knowledge of the child's character, were perhaps necessary to complete the
last. Marguerite never knew the deception, though a mother's instinct and
tenderness took the alarm and raised suspicions. We have never spoken
freely on this together, and like you, she now heareth the truth for the
first time."
"'Twas a fearful mystery between God and my own heart!" murmured the
woman; "I forbore to trouble it--Sigismund, or Gaetano, or whatever you
will have his name, filled my affections, and I strove to be satisfied.
The boy is dear to me, and ever will be, though you seat him on a throne;
but Christine--the poor stricken Christine--is truly the child of my
bosom!"
Sigismund went and knelt at the feet of her whom he had ever believed his
mother, and earnestly begged her blessing and continued affection. The
tears streamed from Marguerite's eyes, as she willingly bestowed the
first, and promised never to withhold the last.
"Hast thou any of the trinkets or garments that were given thee with the
child, or canst render an account of the place where they are still to be
found?" demanded the Doge, whose whole mind was too deeply set on
appeasing his doubts to listen to aught else.
"They are all here in the convent. The gold has been fairly committed to
Sigismund, to form his equipment as a soldier. The child was kept apart,
receiving such education as a learned priest could give till of an age to
serve, and then I sent him to bear arms in Italy, which I knew to be the
country of his birth, though I never knew to what Prince his allegiance
was due. The time had now come when I thought it due to the youth to let
him know the real nature of the tie between us; but I shrank from paining
Marguerite and myself, and I even did his heart the credit to believe that
he would rather belong to us, humble and despised though we be, than find
himself a nameless outcast, without home, country, or parentage. It was
necessary, however, to speak, and it was my purpose to reveal the truth,
here at the convent, in the presence of Christine. For this reason, and to
enable Sigismund to make inquiries for his family, the effects received
from the unhappy criminal with the child were placed among his baggage
secretly. They are, at this moment, on the mountain."
The venerable old prince trembled violently; for, with the intense feeling
of one who dreaded that his dearest hopes might yet be disappointed, he
feared, while he most wished, to consult these mute but veracious
witnesses.
"Let them be produced!--let them be instantly produced and examined!" he
whispered eagerly to those around him. Then turning slowly to the
immovable Maso, he demanded--"And thou, man of falsehood and of blood!
what dost thou reply to this clear and probable tale?"
Il Maledetto smiled, as if superior to a weakness that had blinded the
others. The expression of his countenance was filled with that look of
calm superiority which certainty gives to the well-informed over the
doubting and deceived."
"I have to reply, Signore, and honored father," he coolly answered, "that
Balthazar hath right cleverly related a tale that hath been ingeniously
devised. That I am Bartolo, I repeat to thee, can be proved by a hundred
living tongues in Italy.--Thou best knowest who Bartolo Contini is, Doge
of Genoa.'
"He speaks the truth," returned the prince, dropping his head in
disappointment. "Oh! Melchior, I have had but too sure proofs of what he
intimates! I have long been certain that this wretched Bartolo is my son,
though never before have I been cursed with his presence. Bad as I was
taught to think him, my worst fears had not painted him as I now find the
truth would warrant."
"Has there not been some fraud--art thou not the dupe of some conspiracy
of which money has been the object?"
The Doge shook his head, in a way to prove that he could not possibly
flatter himself with such a hope.
"Never: my offers of money have always been rejected."
"Why should I take the gold of my father?" added Il Maledetto; "my own
skill and courage more than suffice for my wants."
The nature of the answer, and the composed demeanor of Maso, produced an
embarrassing pause.
"Let the two stand forth and be confronted," said the puzzled clavier at
length; "nature often reveals the truth when the uttermost powers of man
are at fault--if either is the true child of the prince, we should find
some resemblance to the father to support his claim."
The test, though of doubtful virtue, was eagerly adopted, for the truth
had now become so involved, as to excite a keen interest in all present.
The desire to explain the mystery was general, and the slightest means of
attaining such an end became of a value proportionate to the difficulty
of effecting the object. Sigismund and Maso were placed beneath the lamp,
where its light was strongest, and every eye turned eagerly to their
countenances, in order to discover, or to fancy it discovered, some of
those secret signs by which the mysterious affinities of nature are to be
traced. A more puzzling examination could not well have been essayed.
There was proof to give the victory to each of the pretenders, if such a
term may be used with propriety as it concerns the passive Sigismund, and
much to defeat the claims of the latter. In the olive-colored tint, the
dark, rich, rolling eye, and in stature, the advantage was altogether with
Maso, whose outline of countenance and penetrating expression had also a
resemblance to those of the Doge, so marked as to render it quite apparent
to any who wished to find it. The habits of the mariner had probably
diminished the likeness, but it was too obviously there to escape
detection. That hardened and rude appearance, the consequence of exposure,
which rendered it difficult to pronounce within ten years of his real age,
contributed a little to conceal what might be termed the latent character
of his countenance, but the features themselves were undeniably a rude
copy of the more polished lineaments of the Prince.
The case was less clear as respects Sigismund. The advantage of ruddy and
vigorous youth rendered him such a resemblance of the Doge--in the points
where it existed--as we find between the aged and those portraits which
have been painted in their younger and happier days. The bold outline was
not unlike that of the noble features of the venerable Prince, but neither
the eye, the hair, nor the complexion, had the hues of Italy.
"Thou seest," said Maso, tauntingly, when the disappointed clavier
admitted the differences in the latter particulars, "This is an
imposition that will not pass. I swear to you, as there is faith in man,
and hope for the dying Christian, that so far as any know their parentage,
I am the child of Gaetano Grimaldi, the present Doge of Genoa, and of no
other man! May the saints desert me!--the blessed Mother of God be deaf to
my prayers!--and all men hunt me with their curses, if I say aught in this
but holy truth!"
The fearful energy with which Maso uttered this solemn appeal, and a
certain sincerity that marked his manner, and perhaps we might even say
his character, in spite of the dissolute recklessness of his principles,
served greatly to weaken the growing opinion in favor of his competitor.
"And this noble youth?" asked the sorrowing Doge--"this generous and
elevated boy, whom I have already held next to my heart, with so much of a
father's joy--who and what is he?"
"Eccellenza, I wish to say nothing against the Signor Sigismondo. He is a
gallant swimmer, and a staunch support in time of need. Be he Swiss, or
Genoese, either country may be proud of him, but self-love teaches us all
to take care of our own interests before those of another. It Would be far
pleasanter to dwell in the Palazzo Grimaldi, on our warm and sunny gulf,
honored and esteemed as the heir of a noble name, than to be cutting heads
in Berne; and honest Balthazar does but follow his instinct, in seeking
preferment for his son!"
Each eye now turned on the headsman, who quailed not under the scrutiny,
but maintained the firm front of one conscious that he had done no wrong.
"I have not said that Sigismund is the child of any," he answered in his
meek manner, but with a steadiness that won him credit with the listeners.
"I have only said that he belongs not to me. No father need wish a
worthier son, and heaven knows that I yield my own claims with a sorrow
that it would be grievous to bear, did I not hope a better fortune for him
than any which can come from a connexion with a race accursed. The
likeness which is seen in Maso, and which Sigismund is thought to want,
proves little, noble gentlemen and reverend monks; for all who have looked
closely into these matters know that resemblances are as often found
between the distant branches of the same family, as between those who are
more nearly united. Sigismund is not of us, and none can see any trace of
either my own or of Marguerite's family in his person or features."
Balthazar paused that there might be an examination of this fact, and, in
truth, the most ingenious fancy could not have detected the least affinity
in looks, between either of those whom he had so long thought his parents
and the young soldier.
"Let the Doge of Genoa question his memory, and look farther than himself.
Can he find no sleeping smile, no color of the hair, nor any other common
point of appearance, between the youth and some of those whom he once knew
and loved?"
The anxious prince turned eagerly towards Sigismund, and a gleam of joy
lighted his face again, as he studied the young man's features.
"By San Francesco! Melchior, the honest Balthazar is right. My grandmother
was a Venetian, and she had the fair hair of the boy--the eye too, is
hers--and--oh!" bending his head aside and veiling his eyes with his hand,
"I see the anxious gaze that was so constant in the sainted and injured
Angiolina, after my greater wealth and power had tempted her kinsmen to
force her to yield an unwilling hand!--Wretch! thou art not Bartolo; thy
tale is a wicked deception, invented to shield thee from the punishment
due to thy crime!"
"Admitting that I am not Bartolo, eccellenza, does the Signer Sigismondo
claim to be he? Have you not assured yourself that a certain Bartolo
Contini, a man whose life is passed in open hostility to the laws, is your
child? Did you not employ your confidant and secretary to learn the facts?
Did he not hear from the dying lips of a holy priest, who knew all the
circumstances, that 'Bartolo Contini is the son of Gaetano Grimaldi'? Did
not the confederate of your implacable enemy, Cristofero Serrani, swear
the same to you? Have you not seen papers that were taken with your child
to confirm it all, and did you not send this signet as a gage that Bartolo
should not want your aid, in any strait that might occur in his wild
manner of living, when you learned that he resolutely preferred remaining
what he was, to becoming an image of sickly repentance and newly-assumed
nobility, in your gorgeous palace on the Strada Balbi?"
The Doge again bowed his head in dismay, for all this he knew to be true
beyond a shadow of hope.
"Here is some sad mistake," he said with bitter regret. "Thou hast
received the child of some other bereaved parent, Balthazar; but, though I
cannot hope to prove myself the natural father of Sigismund, he shall at
least find me one in affection and good offices. If his life be not due to
me, I owe him mine; the debt shall form a tie between us little short of
that to which nature herself could give birth."
"Herr Doge," returned the earnest headsman, "let us not be too hasty. If
there are strong facts in favor of the claims of Maso, there are many
circumstances, also, in favor of those of Sigismund. To me, the history
of the last is probably more clear than it can be to any other. The time;
the country, the age of the child, the name, and the fearful revelations
of the criminal, are all strong proofs in Sigismund's behalf, Here are the
effects that were given me with the child; it is possible that they, too,
may throw weight into his scale."
Balthazar had taken means to procure the package in question from among
the luggage of Sigismund, and he now proceeded to expose its contents,
while a breathless silence betrayed the interest with which the result was
expected. He first laid upon the pavement of the chapel a collection of
child's clothing. The articles were rich, and according to the fashions of
the times; but they contained no positive proofs that could go to
substantiate the origin of the wearer, except as they raised the
probability of his having come of an elevated rank in life. As the
different objects were placed upon the stones, Adelheid and Christine
kneeled beside them, each too intently absorbed with the progress of the
inquiry to bethink themselves of those forms which, in common, throw a
restraint upon the manners of their sex. The latter appeared to forget her
own sorrows, for a moment, in a new-born interest in her brother's
fortunes while the ears of the former drank in each syllable that fell
from the lips of the different speakers, with an avidity that her strong
sympathy with the youth could alone give.
"Here is a case containing trinkets of value," added Balthazar. "The
condemned man said they were taken through ignorance, and he was
accustomed to suffer the child to amuse himself with them in the prison."
"These were my first offerings to my wife, in return for the gift she had
made me of the precious babe," said the Doge, in such a smothered voice
as we are apt to use when examining objects that recall the presence of
the dead--"Blessed Angiolina! these jewels are so many tokens of thy pale
but happy countenance; thou felt a mother's joy at that sacred moment, and
could even smile on me!"
"And here is a talisman in sapphire, with many Eastern characters; I was
told it had been an heirloom in the family of the child, and was put about
his neck at the birth, by the hands of his own father."
"I ask no more--I ask no more! God be praised for this, the last and best
of all his mercies!" cried the Prince, clasping his hands with devotion.
"This jewel was worn by myself in infancy, and I placed it around the neck
of the babe with my own hands, as thou sayest--I ask no more."
"And Bartolo Contini!" uttered Il Maledetto.
"Maso!" exclaimed a voice, which until then had been mute in the chapel.
It was Adelheid who had spoken. Her hair had fallen in wild profusion over
her shoulders, as she still knelt over the articles on the pavement, and
her hands were clasped entreatingly, as if she deprecated the rude
interruptions which had so often dashed the cup from their lips, as they
were about to yield to the delight of believing Sigismund to be the child
of the Prince of Genoa.
"Thou art another of a fond and weak sex, to swell the list of confiding
spirits that have been betrayed by the selfishness and falsehood of men,"
answered the mocking mariner. "Go to, girl!--make thyself a nun; thy
Sigismund is an impostor."
Adelheid, by a quick but decided interposition of her hand, prevented an
impetuous movement of the young soldier, who would have struck his
audacious rival to his feet. Without changing her kneeling attitude, she
then spoke, modestly but with a firmness which generous sentiments enable
women to assume even more readily than the stronger sex, when
extraordinary occasions call for the sacrifice of that reserve in which
her feebleness is ordinarily intrenched.
"I know not, Maso, in what manner thou hast learned the tie which connects
me with Sigismund," she said; "but I have no longer any wish to conceal
it. Be he the son of Balthazar, or be he the son of a prince, he has
received my troth with the consent of my honored father, and our fortunes
will shortly be one. There might be forwardness in a maiden thus openly
avowing her preference for a youth; but here, with none to own him,
oppressed with his long-endured wrongs, and assailed in his most sacred
affections, Sigismund has a right to my voice. Let him belong to whom else
he may, I speak by my venerable father's authority, when I say he belongs
to us."
"Melchior, is this true?" cried the Doge.
"The girl's words are but an echo of what my heart feels," answered the
baron, looking about him proudly, as if he would browbeat any who should
presume to think that he had consented to corrupt the blood of Willading
by the measure.
"I have watched thine eye, Maso, as one nearly interested in the truth,"
continued Adelheid, "and I now appeal to thee, as thou lovest thine own
soul, to disburthen thyself! While thou may'st have told some truth, the
jealous affection of a woman has revealed to me that thou hast kept back
part. Speak, then, and relieve the soul of this venerable prince from
torture,"
"And deliver my own body to the wheel! This may be well to the warm
imagination of a love-sick girl, but we of the contraband have too much
practice in men uselessly to throw away an advantage."
"Thou mayest have confidence in our faith. I have seen much of thee
within the last few days, Maso, and I wish not to think thee capable of
the bloody deed that hath been committed on the mountain, though I fear
thy life is only too ungoverned; still I will not believe that the hero of
the Leman can be the assassin of St. Bernard."
"When thy young dreams are over, fair one, and thou seest the world under
its true colors, thou wilt know that the hearts of men come partly of
Heaven and partly of Hell."
Maso laughed in his most reckless manner as he delivered this opinion.
"'Tis useless to deny that thou hast sympathies," continued the maiden
steadily; "thou hast in secret more pleasure in serving than in injuring
thy race. Thou canst not have been in such straits in company with the
Signor Sigismondo, without imbibing some touch of his noble generosity.
You have struggled together for our common good, you come of the same God,
have the same manly courage, are equally stout of heart, strong of hand,
and willing to do for others. Such a heart must have enough of noble and
human impulses to cause you to love justice. Speak, then, and I pledge our
sacred word, that thou shalt fare better for thy candor than by taking
refuge in thy present fraud. Bethink thee, Maso, that the happiness of
this aged man, of Sigismund himself, if thou wilt, for I blush not to say
it--of a weak and affectionate girl, is in thy keeping. Give us truth
holy; sacred truth, and we pardon the past."
Il Maledetto was moved by the beautiful earnestness of the speaker. Her
ingenuous interest in the result, with the solemnity of her appeal shook
his purpose.
"Thou know'st not what thou say'st, lady; thou ask'st my life," he
answered, after pondering in a way to give a new impulse to the dying
hopes of the Doge.
"Though there is no quality more sacred than justice," interposed the
châtelain, who alone could speak with authority in the Valais; "it is
fairly within the province of her servants to permit her to go unexpiated,
in order that greater good may come of the sacrifice. If thou wilt prove
aught that is of grave importance to the interests of the Prince of Genoa,
Valais owes it to the love it bears his republic to requite the service."
Maso listened, at first, with a cold ear. He felt the distrust of one who
had sufficient knowledge of the world to be acquainted with the thousand
expedients that were resorted to by men, in order to justify their daily
want of faith. He questioned the châtelain closely as to his meaning, nor
was it until a late hour, and after long and weary explanations on both
sides, that the parties came to an understanding.
On the part of those who, on this occasion, were the representatives of
that high attribute of the Deity which among men is termed justice, it was
sufficiently apparent that they understood its exercise with certain
reservations that might be made at pleasure in favor of their own views;
and, on the part of Maso, there was no attempt to conceal the suspicions
he entertained to the last, that he might be a sufferer by lessening in
any degree the strength of the defences by which he was at present
shielded, as the son, real or fancied, of a person so powerful as the
Prince of Genoa.
As usually happens when there is a mutual wish to avoid extremities, and
when conflicting interests are managed with equal address, the
negotiation terminated in a compromise. As the result will be shown in
the regular course of the narrative, the reader is referred to the closing
chapter for the explanation.