UC-NRLF
THE TOCSIN
A DRAMA OF
THE RENAISSANCE
BY
ESTHER BROWN
TIFFANY
.
THOMAS RUTHERFORD BACON
MEMORIAL LIBRARY
THE TOCSIN
-. . .-
7 4T N
::.-V - ~-*-^
, -Hi - 7 T.-*^^Sr-:-TL i
"<*&
THE TOCSIN
A DRAMA JENAIb
By ESTHER BROWN TIFFANY
INTERPOSE AT THE t-:
SNATCH SAUL THK
SAUL THE t -. nun
NOW, AND BIO HIM AV
THE DREAM OF LIFE
BY
MICHAEL ANGELO
BROWNING i>
PAUL ELDER AND COMPA
3LISHERS SAN FRANCE
U ^O MA3fl(I 3HT
OJ30XA JJ/.HJli/I
THE TOCSIN
A DRAMA OF THE RENAISSANCE
BY ESTHER BROWN TIFFANY
INTERPOSE AT THE DIFFICULT MINUTE,
SNATCH SAUL THE MISTAKE,
SAUL THE FAILURE, THE RUIN HE SEEMS
NOW, AND BID HIM AWAKE
FROM THE DREAM, THE PROBATION, THE
PRELUDE, TO FIND HIMSELF SET
CLEAR AND SAFE IN NEW LIGHT AND NEW
LIFE ^
BROWNING S "SAUL."
PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO
Copyright, 1909
by PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY
TO THE MEMORY OF
MY FATHER
FRANCIS TIFFANY
273123
ARGUMENT
Florence, under Francesco de Medici and his Grand
Duchess, the "infamous" Bianca Cappello, is smitten by
famine and plague. Among those who flee the death-
stricken city is the Abbot of San Raffaello. The Abbot is
a man of dual nature brilliant, cynical, pleasure-loving,
generous, impressionable ; dowered with wit, charm, genius,
and, true child of the Renaissance, a passionate worshipper
of the beautiful. Conscious though he is of the cowardice
of deserting his post at such a time, he yet summons his
cowering monks about him for flight to the pure air of the
Apennines. They go to the seat of his cousin, Bianca delle
Torre, the new favorite of Francesco de Medici.
In the Abbot s train is Marianna, a young peasant girl
disguised, for her better protection, as a boy. She has but
lately come to Florence, having left her mountain hamlet
in the vain hope of tracing her absent lover, Lorenzo, who
is a ward of the Abbot.
To the desolate and deserted city comes an angel of
mercy in the person of Sister Maddalena, a "Poor Claire,"
as the nuns of the third or uncloistered order of St. Francis
were called. They were vowed to a life of poverty and
charity. Herself a Florentine of noble birth, she has for
years been a wanderer on the face of the earth, and only
returns to her beloved city at its cry of need. Her devout
life is the result of a deep religious experience of her youth.
Years before, in the Duomo, she had been overwhelmed by
ARGUMENT
the impassioned eloquence of a young priest. Fired by
his burning words, she had renounced the world and its
pleasures to lead so inspired a life of prayer and charity
that she is now regarded throughout Tuscany as a saint.
The young priest, at that time in deacon s orders, was no
other than the Abbot of San Raffaello. Of his dual nature,
and of his sinking deeper and deeper into the luxury and
license of the time, she knows nothing. Shrining his image
in her heart, she prays that the hour may come when she
may meet him once more face to face and, falling at his
knees, bathe his blessed feet with her tears of thanksgiving.
In Pistoia, not far from Castle delle Torre, Pope Sixtus
V., stern old Peretti, is holding counsel with Francesco de
Medici, and here the Abbot s ward, Lorenzo, asking audi
ence of His Holiness, has the misfortune to drop a loaded
pistol at the pontiff s feet. A new edict has just been pro
mulgated against bearing arms in the papal presence, and
Lorenzo thus falls under sentence of death. From this
penalty Marianna, who has come to Castle delle Torre with
the Abbot and his flock, saves her lover by a bold night
ride for his pardon. In the meantime, however, Lorenzo
has fallen into the toils of the beautiful Bianca delle Torre,
and for a while Marianna is left desolate.
To Pistoia, also, comes Sister Maddalena to interview
the Pope concerning the pestilence. On her way she stops
at Castle delle Torre. The iniquities of the two Biancas,
Bianca Cappello, the Grand Duchess, and Bianca delle
Torre, the new favorite, oppress her soul. She believes that
Florence suffers for the sins of its rulers ; that the Almighty
is moved to wipe the plague-spot from the earth. She comes
to plead with Bianca, but here at length in Castle delle
Torre are the prayers of a lifetime answered. In the moon-
vi
ARGUMENT
lit courtyard, jesting over his wine, Sister Maddalena meets
the Abbot and throws herself on her knees before the man
whose image she has so long held sacred. Then, like a
stroke of lightning, comes the revelation to each. Aghast,
she learns what a mistaken ideal she has been cherishing
of this man of sin whom she has felt to be the instrument
of her salvation. Mystery of mysteries ! her sainthood the
outcome of his wasted life! He on his part, overcome with
self-loathing and moved by the stirrings of his old faith,
calls about him the trembling monks, exhorts and inspires
them; then, holding aloft the cross, he places himself at
their head, and leads them back to Florence, the city of the
dying and the dead.
Vll
THE TOCSIN
A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS
CHARACTERS OF THE
DRAMA
ABBOT
OF THE BENEDICTINE MONASTERY OF SAN RAFFAELLO AT FLORENCE
LORENZO TORNABUONI
THE ABBOT S WARD
SIR WALTER HOWARD & COUNT SAL VI ATI
YOUNG NOBLEMEN AND SUITORS TO BIANCA
BROTHER SEBASTIANO &r BROTHER FILIPO
OF THE ORDER OF ST. BENEDICT
BARDI
A BEGGAR, FORMER SECRETARY TO THE MEDICI
CAPTAIN
OF THE PAPAL GUARD
BIANCA DELLE TORRE
A YOUNG WIDOWED COUNTESS, COUSIN TO THE ABBOT
SISTER MADDALENA
OF THE THIRD OR UNCLOISTERED ORDER OF ST. FRANCIS
MARIANNA (alias GABRIELLO)
A PEASANT GIRL
NITA
WAITING WOMAN TO BIANCA
MONKS, SERVANTS, CHOIR BOYS, ETC.
The scene is laid in 1586, first in Florence,
afterward in Castle delle Torre outside the City of Pistoia, at the
foot of the Apennines.
IX
ACT I
A stately garden in Florence^ belonging to Count Sahiati.
Marble fountains and statues of nymphs gleam from among
the ilexes and oleanders. At one side is the brick wall, time-
stained and mellow with age y of the abbey of San Raffaello.
The wall is pierced with a rich door w ay > crowned by a figure
of the archangel Raphael. At the rear of the garden another
gate and wall shut off the street. In the foreground is a
table for three > sumptuously set. Two servants in livery are
bringing in flagons of wine and dishes of fruit.
FIRST SERVANT. At six were they to come?
SECOND SERVANT. At six, by the Abbot s watch.
FIRST SERVANT. And at six tomorrow, by the Abbot s
watch, we may all be dead of the plague.
SECOND SERVANT. Drink, then, while we may. ( He drinks
from one of the flagons?)
FIRST SERVANT {drinking and smacking his lips). Ah, that
would put life into the dead.
SECOND SERVANT. Yes, when his Reverence is bid to sup
per, my master brings out his best.
FIRST SERVANT. But where are the flowers?
: THE TOCSIN
SECOND SERVANT. His Reverence s page was to bring them.
FIRST SERVANT. That close-mouthed Gabriello? I cannot
squeeze a word out of him about his own affairs, or the
Abbot s, either.
SECOND SERVANT. No, he holds himself as much aloof as
the Grand Duchess herself.
FIRST SERVANT. And was picked up in the gutter, was he
not?
SECOND SERVANT. Some such story. For all his round eyes,
he knows on which side his bread is buttered. No won
der he fawns on his Reverence like a stray dog.
FIRST SERVANT. There s not a stray dog in Florence that
does not fawn on his Reverence.
( The convent gate of ens and discloses Marianna, dressed
as a page, her arms full of flowers?)
SECOND SERVANT. Ah, there is Gabriello now.
FIRST SERVANT. Make haste. Must we wait all night?
MARIANNA (hurrying forward). Am I late? Every rose I
saw was so much more beautiful than the last, that I had
to stop and pick it. These for the head, Luigi, and these
to crown the fruit. (She decorates the table.)
FIRST SERVANT. There are no other such roses in Florence.
MARIANNA. No, his Reverence has only to touch a plant and
it bursts into flower. How I love to see him pacing up and
down his rose-alleys, in the sun, his dog rubbing its nose
against his white robe, and to hear him talk to his roses.
SECOND SERVANT. Talk to his roses?
MARIANNA (shrinking back at Luigi s laugh). Oh, in jest,
as he does to dogs, or the boys of the Sanctuary, or to
me ! ( The servants move off y laughing. Marianna picks up
a white rose and looks at it dreamily?) Why would he not
pull it himself, the Reverend Father? I found him bend-
THE TOCSIN
ing over it, but his hands were behind his back. " Here,
Gabriello," he said, " I have sworn to this white virgin,
my hands should not touch her. You alone must break
her from her stalk."
FIRST SERVANT (looking disapprovingly at the table). After
all, you have brought too few.
MARIANNA. I will run back for more.
SECOND SERVANT. Here come his Excellency the Count
and Sir Walter Howard.
(They stand back. Enter Count Sahiati and Sir Walter
Howard from the side opposite the convent.)
COUNT SALVIATI (to Marianna). Where is the Reverend
Father?
MARIANNA. His Reverence bade me give you a thousand
pardons, but he must be late. Important letters. He
begs you will not wait for him. ( She bows and goes out
through the convent gate.)
COUNT SALVIATI (to Sir Walter). Well, then, let us try
these nectarines till he joins us. ( They seat themselves at
the tabled)
SIR WALTER. Yes, we English are a soberer race than you
Tuscans.
COUNT SALVIATI. And habitually invite the skeleton to the
feast.
SIR WALTER. We find it less easy to turn our eyes from
him, when he stands grinning in at our gates, as now.
COUNT SALVIATI. Ah, the famine and the plague. You
wonder how we who yet live can make merry.
SIR WALTER. Florence is dying for bread.
COUNT SALVIATI (to one of the servants). Music, Luigi.
( Luigi goes to summer-house^ where the musicians are, and
brings them forward.)
THE TOCSIN
SIR WALTER (shuddering). Pisa is a charnal-house ; hun
dreds lie unburied in the streets. Husbands desert their
wives, mothers their children.
COUNT SALVIATI (shrugging his shoulders). And we feast.
(He turns impatiently to the musicians.) Something gay.
( The flayers break into a wild dance-measure. Count Sal-
viati waves his hand) Softly. ( They move toward the
r ear y playing with fire but in low tones.)
SIR WALTER. A dirge were fitter.
COUNT SALVIATI. When you marry the beautiful Bianca
delle Torre and become one of us, you will understand
us better.
SIR WALTER (gloomily). More chance there for you than
for me.
COUNT SALVIATI (gaily). Neck and neck at present. (A
dancer appears from among the musicians and begins a wild,
graceful dance. Count Sahiati applauds a moment with a
" brava ! " then turns again to Sir Walter, who pays no
heed to the dancer?) Would it check your pace, you with
your strange island conventionalities, should I whisper
that the Grand Duke himself is in the running ?
SIR WALTER (starting to his feet). Francesco de Medici?
COUNT SALVIATI (luxuriously enjoying his fruit). Francesco
de Medici.
SIR WALTER. But his Duchess still lives.
COUNT SALVIATI (shrugging his shoulders). Yes, she still
lives, that other, that terrible Bianca Cappello. But you
look pale. ( He fills his glass.) To the ripe lips of your
intended, Bianca delle Torre.
(As they are drinking a knocking at the gate is heard
above the dance music. One of the servants opens the gate
and Sister Maddalena, a child in her arms, is seen at the
THE TOCSIN
entrance. She stands severe and solemn in her gray Fran
ciscan dress. About her clings a group of half-clad, famine-
stricken women and children. An old man with traces of
better days about him follows in their train. Count Sahiati
and Sir Walter turn and gaze amazed?)
SISTER MADDALENA (to Luigi). Whose feast is this?
SERVANT. The noble Count Salviati s. (He motions the
group away, but Sister Maddalena, with a commanding
gesture, stops him and enters, her people following timidly.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Count Salviati, I bring your guests.
(She holds up a silencing hand to the musicians and the
dancing-girl, who pause confused and irresolute.)
COUNT SALVIATI ( turning angrily). What does this mean !
Luigi !
SERVANT (deprecatingly). I could not help pardon me,
Sir Count!
SISTER MADDALENA (in the same tone of calm command).
Rise, Count Salviati, and you, sir (to Sir Walter), rise,
and welcome your guests.
(Count Salviati, half in anger, half as though constrained
by some superior will, rises and with him Sir Walter.)
COUNT SALVIATI (to Sister Maddalena). Who in the devil s
name are you that dare
SISTER MADDALENA (to the trembling women). Eat. Drink.
( She places the child in the arms of one of them and pours
out wine. They cluster about the table eating ravenously.
Count Salviati and Sir Walter stand confounded.)
SIR WALTER (to Count Salviati). What is she?
COUNT SALVIATI. Some half-crazed fanatic, her head turned
by the famine.
SISTER MADDALENA (to servants). Serve your master s
guests. ( The servants look toward the Count for orders)
THE TOCSIN
COUNT SALVIATI (with an assumption of his former light
manner). By all means, Luigi. Make haste. Serve the
noble ladies. And if they are weary, lead them to the
arbor yonder and bring silken coverlets and cushions for
their delicate heads. For when ladies (he bows profoundly,
his hand on his heart), so fair, so radiant, condescend to
grace my humble board (Sister Maddalena turns
with head eretJ and looks silently full at Count Salviati. He
stops in full breath and grasps Sir Walter s arm.} The
fiend take the woman. She has the evil eye. Speak to
her, Sir Walter; send her packing. You English are not
afraid of the evil eye. There are my servants waiting on
her, like whipped hounds.
SIR WALTER. Let us call his Reverence.
COUNT SALVIATI (with an air of relief). Well said. (They
pass out through the abbey gate. Sister Maddalena ap
proaches the old man who sits in a brooding attitude, his
cup untastedy his head in his hand. His air is haggard and
wild.)
SISTER MADDALENA. You eat nothing.
BARDI (looking up dazed). Eh?
SISTER MADDALENA. Eat. Drink.
BARDI (feverishly). Yes, yes. To give me strength. To
give me strength.
(Sister Maddalena takes a silver salver from the table,
fills it with water from the fountain and places it at old
Bar di s feet. Then she brings one of the fine napkins, kneels
down before him and begins to unfasten his sandals. He
appears only half conscious of her action, forgetting his food
and falling into his former brooding attitude. Sister Madda
lena bathes and wipes his feet.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Poor wounded foot.
THE TOCSIN
BARDI. Wounded? Ah, that was but a sharp stone, but
here, in my side, the stiletto thrust
SISTER MADDALENA. Let me see the wound.
BARDI (grasping his robe about him and speaking with a fierce
intensity). No, no, let it rankle, let it fester, that not for
one moment I forget.
SISTER MADDALENA. Beware lest you forget to forgive.
BARDI (his voice rising shrilly}. Forgive? I forgive, who
spent my life for the Grand Duchess sold my honor?
I was her scribe, and now that she sickens, the Grand
Duke would turn for his pleasures to a fresher face. He
hired me ; and I am trapped by the Duchess with a love-
token to the new favorite, and thrust through with cold
steel
SISTER MADDALENA. O Lord, how long!
BARDI (seizing her hand as his tone changes to one of exultant
malice}. Listen, Sister. The new favorite, her name too
is Bianca Bianca delle Torre. Near Pistoia she lives.
Even my old eyes exulted at the whiteness of her throat.
SISTER MADDALENA (pressing her hand to her heart}. O
new web of guilt! O Florence!
BARDI (exultantly}. Bianca delle Torre; remember, Sister,
Bianca delle Torre. And when Bianca Cappello lies stark
and cold and the other Bianca reigns in her stead, re
member it was old Bardi who carried the first love-token.
SISTER MADDALENA (her face becoming as one who thinks out
a problem). To plead with her. Near Pistoia. And I go
there today to see His Holiness.
BARDI (catching eagerly at the word}. Pistoia. Yes, yes.
She lives there in Castle delle Torre. Tell her of old
Bardi. Tell her old Bardi is fallen on evil days is ill
is dying tell her
THE TOCSIN
SISTER MADDALENA. And you would take bread from
such as she ? O unreverend white hairs ! O corrupted
heart !
(Marianna, who has entered with more flowers and stolen
nearer, utters an exclamation and drops her roses, Sister
Maddalena hurries toward her.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Marianna!
MARIANNA (covering her face with her hands). O Sister
Maddalena !
SISTER MADDALENA (to the poor women). Go, now, and the
Holy Virgin keep you. (They crowd about her, kissing
her hands and the hem of her robe. She turns to Bardi.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Your days are few. Even now the
sword hangs over Florence. "Vengeance is mine, I will
repay," saith the Lord. Go. Forget. Forgive. Repent.
( One of the servants opens the gate. The throng flocks out.
Sister Maddalena turns to Marianna, with outstretched
arms, the remoteness hovering about her all gone, and a
thrilling tenderness in her voice?)
SISTER MADDALENA (to Marianna). In the dress of a boy!
O my lost lamb !
MARIANNA. No, Sister, not lost. O Sister, it was so long,
so long since I had heard from him.
SISTER MADDALENA. From Lorenzo?
MARIANNA. Who else is there ! O Sister, my heart was
breaking and I came to Florence to find him !
SISTER MADDALENA. Left your peaceful mountain hamlet
for this great, evil place ! Yes, I traced you nearly to the
city gates.
MARIANNA. You came to find me ?
SISTER MADDALENA. As the shepherd the strayed lamb. (She
throws a fold of her mantle about Marianna and lifting her
8
THE TOCSIN
face gazes searchingly into it. Her own clears as she does
so.) Praise be to the Saints !
MARIANNA. For what, Sister? Why do you search my
eyes?
SISTER MADDALENA. Unspotted from the world ! (She kisses
Marianna on the forehead r .) And now you will come with
me.
MARIANNA. O Sister, not yet !
SISTER MADDALENA. Yes, now. I must make haste to Pis-
toia this very night. His Holiness is there. I must see
him and beg help for Florence.
MARIANNA. For the famine?
SISTER MADDALENA. For the plague which will smite her
before these flowers have withered on their stalks.
MARIANNA ( tearing herself away). Then I will stay, for if
Lorenzo should come to Florence and no one to nurse
him ! O Holy Virgin !
SISTER MADDALENA. This is no place for you.
MARIANNA. O Sister, wait, wait ! Give me one little half-
hour more. A reverend father I know has letters from
Lorenzo. Let me hear first if he is alive or dead.
SISTER MADDALENA. There is a dying woman in the next
street, holding on to life till I come to her. I cannot
wait.
MARIANNA. Go, go and leave me here a little half-hour,
and when you come back I will follow you. O Sister,
if you knew what it was to love, you would have mercy
on me!
SISTER MADDALENA (half to herself). This little earthly
love, this possession of a few moments ! Oh, if you could
hear the voice I once heard, long years ago, at the
blessed Eastertide, here in the cathedral !
THE TOCSIN
MARIANNA. What voice, Sister?
SISTER MADDALENA (her eyes growing rapt). Of an angel,
not a man. One to whom I owe every hope of my sal
vation.
MARIANNA. You loved him?
SISTER MADDALENA. His soul spoke to mine and mine leapt
to life. ( She flings out her arms with sudden burning fervor.)
Lord, if it be not a sinful desire of self, grant, grant
that I may yet in the flesh once more behold him, fall
at his holy feet, and bathe them with tears of thanks
giving ! (She stands rapt a moment ; then the fire dies from
her eyes, and she turns with her former calm to Marianna.)
1 will return for you soon.
MARIANNA. I will be at the gate, Sister.
(Sister Maddalena goes out. Marianna closes the gate.
The servants attempt to arrange the disordered table.)
FIRST SERVANT. But why were you fool enough to let her
in?
SECOND SERVANT. It was the Count s fault. He should
have driven her out.
FIRST SERVANT. There they come now and his Reverence
with them.
(Enter from the convent Count Salviati, Sir W alter > and
the Abbot in the white robe of his order.)
ABBOT (laughing). Devoured your feast before your very
eyes, you say? But where is the rabble?
COUNT SALVIATI. Gone!
ABBOT. And half the plate, too, I dare swear, hid in the
chaste bosom of the holy sister of St. Francis.
SIR WALTER. But if you could have seen her !
ABBOT. Pah ! I know the unwashed tribe. (He takes a rose
from the table and smells it, delicately.)
10
THE TOCSIN
COUNT SALVIATI. If you could have heard her!
ABBOT. A mere trick of the trade. I held it myself once,
for an hour, and preached an Easter sermon yonder in
the cathedral, that brought all Florence to its knees.
COUNT SALVIATI. Who has not heard of your Reverence s
great sermon?
ABBOT. And the women, you should have heard the sobs
of the women !
COUNT SALVIATI. I prefer their smiles.
ABBOT. And then the Archbishop clapt this fat abbey into
my mouth and I am (shrugging his shoulders) your very
good companion. But, per Bacco! our fair guests have
left us but scant pickings.
COUNT SALVIATI (hurling his flagons on the ground). Pestif
erous wretches !
ABBOT. Here, boy, run to Brother Gregorius and bid him
give you my gold cups, Cellini s work. He will know.
MARIANNA. Yes, Reverend Father. (She goes out through
the abbey gate. The Abbot looks after her. It is manifest
that the evident simplicity and purity of the supposed boy are,
though perhaps unconsciously to the Abbot, touching the best
side of his nature. With her his worldliness, his cynicism
half drop from him.)
ABBOT (looking after her). Country-bred, sirs, and smacking
still of the fields. A pretty something in his eyes, we
used to call innocence.
COUNT SALVIATI. Still, I think I should keep an eye to
the key of my strong-box. (To the servants.) Fresh wine
and fruit.
( The servants go out. The others seat themselves.)
ABBOT ( to Sir Walter , handing him a paper). This came in
Lorenzo s packet.
I I
THE TOCSIN
SIR WALTER. By your leave. (He goes apart and reads the
paper.)
ABBOT ( to Count Salviati ). That troublesome ward of mine,
Lorenzo Tornabuoni, whom I sent to England to cure
of a love folly
COUNT SALVIATI. Yes, I have heard.
ABBOT. Well, cured or not cured, he is on his way home.
COUNT SALVIATI. Have you tried the old cure, u Like cures
like?"
ABBOT. Not in his case.
(Enter Marianna with a salver, bearing three superb
golden goblets.)
COUNT SALVIATI. I know a lady who would cure your
ward of his love-sickness.
ABBOT. Who is she?
COUNT SALVIATI. You should know. Is she not near kin
to you ? Bianca delle Torre.
ABBOT. My very own fair cousin.
COUNT SALVIATI. Then Lorenzo knows her already ?
ABBOT. No, they have never met.
COUNT SALVIATI. Let her physic his wound.
ABBOT. Poor boy. (His brow clouds.)
COUNT SALVIATI. Has he had many such troublesome
loves, this Lorenzo of yours?
(Marianna makes a half-smothered exclamation, and drops
one of the goblets.)
ABBOT ( turning suddenly ). Have a care, boy. (He hands one
of the cups to the Count.) But, indeed, this is cunning
goldsmith s work. Cellini s. Were ever Cupid and Psyche
modeled more graciously?
COUNT SALVIATI. Admirable.
(Sir Walter comes to the Count with a paper.
12
THE TOCSIN
Count exclaims and turns to the Abbot who is lazily play
ing with some strawberries.) By your leave. (Reads the
paper.)
ABBOT (with a gracious motion of his hand). So that it does
not spoil your palate for this fruit. Here, Gabriello, let
me see which are ripest, these berries, or your lips.
( Gabriello kneels before the Abbot , who takes a berry and
puts it between her lips.) The king of the dish. Am I
not a generous master, Gabriello? When you go from
me to another master, and they say evil things of me,
tell them, " Ah, but he always gave me the largest ber
ries in the dish."
MARIANNA. No one should ever say evil things of you in
my hearing.
ABBOT (turning up her face, half curiously, half carelessly).
Why, how the child flushes ! What a curious light you
have in your eyes, Gabriello; for all the world like
where have I seen it before ? ( His gaze leaves her face.
He draws a long breath.) On the morning hills, the light,
the radiance
MARIANNA. What light, Reverend Father?
ABBOT (musing). Tis years since I have thought myself
back there.
MARIANNA. Where, Reverend Father?
ABBOT. Have you ever been in the hills, Gabriello, the
real mountains? Ah, yes, you came from there.
MARIANNA. I have always lived there.
ABBOT. But I lived in Venice. To be content with this
world, Gabriello, live on the plains. No mystifying hints
of half-seen, cloud-capped phantasmagoria, that dazzle
the eye from a mountain peak. There, never try to un
derstand. Taste this berry.
THE TOCSIN
MARIANNA. Perhaps I do not understand, but oh, I love
to hear you.
ABBOT (forgetting Gabriello). Ah, the wild life there in
Venice ! How the blood ran riot in our veins ! Was I
ever once alone in my life, till I left my father s palace ?
What took me to the hills ? Up, up I climbed, half the
night, then turned and saw my God, what did I not
see ! ( He rises, oblivious of everything about him.) Early
morning, the sun not yet risen, a hush, a purity how
the world seemed to fall away ! The light in the sky !
It seemed to stab me with ineffable joy and agony!
Prayers surged to my lips
COUNT SALVIATI (looking up from his papers). What are we
losing ? A tale from the Decameron ?
ABBOT (with a sudden bitter laugh). A fairy tale to amuse
Gabriello. (He throws himself down on his seat, his old
careless manner upon him.)
MARIANNA (with wide eyes). And then, and then?
ABBOT. Never go to the hills, boy; they turn the heads
of honest folk. Or, yes, go to them, get mad, renounce
the world, turn monk, take holy orders, preach a sermon
of blood and tears, draw a rich abbey and live happy
ever after.
MARIANNA (shaking her head sadly). You are telling it dif
ferently now.
ABBOT (cynically). Yes, now it is a tale from Boccaccio. (He
pushes her lightly away. Sir Walter comes forward hastily?)
SIR WALTER. Pardon, I must leave at once for Pistoia. I
am to meet Lorenzo tonight at Castle delle Torre.
ABBOT. What, is my pretty cousin Bianca dabbling in the
English plot ? ( To Count Salviati.) Providence puts Lor
enzo in her hands.
14
THE TOCSIN
SIR WALTER (reading from his letter). "The Pope is in
Pistoia. Lorenzo has audience of His Holiness."
COUNT SALVIATI (tapping Sir Walter on the breast}. Let me
warn you, if you have audience of His Holiness, leave
behind you the staunch little friend I see there.
SIR WALTER (drawing out a pistol). This?
COUNT SALVIATI. Very pretty, but not to be carried in
Papal presence.
ABBOT. Why not?
COUNT SALVIATI. A new edict, and when Sixtus speaks
ABBOT. This comes of the two attempts on his life.
COUNT SALVIATI. Yes, and now whoever approaches him
armed, dies.
ABBOT (starting up with sudden emotion). Does Lorenzo
know this ?
(Marianna clasps her hands. Enter Brother Sebastiano
from the convent, breathless and trembling.)
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. Reverend Father!
ABBOT. Well.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. Reverend Father!
ABBOT. Out with it!
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. It has reached the next village.
ABBOT. What, your face ? It is long enough.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. The pestilence!
(Count Sahiati and Sir Walter start and rise. The
Abbot alone keeps his coolness.)
COUNT SALVIATI. Reached San Marino !
SIR WALTER. Come with me to Pistoia.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. The Holy Virgin herself has been
seen in the streets of Florence, clad all in gray, like a
sister of St. Francis.
SIR WALTER. Our fanatic.
15
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT. Bravo, Count, it was the Queen of Heaven you
entertained unawares.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. And prophesies death and destruc
tion to Florence for her sins.
ABBOT. I pray you, gentlemen, repent and save the city.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO (to the Abbot). O Reverend Father,
if I thought my sins, my heinous sins
ABBOT. What! you have been tripping?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO (wringing his hands). A thousand
times have I sworn to abstain !
ABBOT (gaily to Count Sahiati and Sir Walter}. Listen,
gentlemen, a confession ! For this sinner is Florence
smitten !
COUNT SALVIATI. Then we go free.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. But the saints having as it were
thrust the key into my hands (he draws out a large key)
I found it on the chapel floor
ABBOT. Ah, whom the very saints tempt !
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. And my voice never sounds so
clear your Reverence himself praised it one day at
matins as when my stomach is warm.
ABBOT. I at matins ? A miracle !
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. And so, year after year, O Rever
end Father
ABBOT. So you were the leak ! and it is my Burgundy that
has been ripening your nose these ten years ?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. Saints forgive me! But Brother
Gregorius
ABBOT. Keep to your own sins.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. If the pestilence spare me to do
penance !
ABBOT. The Burgundy I forgive you, but not your solitary
16
THE TOCSIN
guzzlings. What the devil do you think the blessed
saints thrust this temptation under your nose for, but to
see if you were good fellow enough to invite the whole
convent into my cellar and warm their fasting hearts ?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO (deeply perplexed). Your Reverence
knows more of the ways of the blessed saints than I !
( Enter Brother Filipo, wringing his hands.)
BROTHER FILIPO. Lost! All lost! The plague is on us!
In San Marino every soul is stricken with death (telling
his beads). O Holy Virgin, have mercy, have mercy!
Remember not my sins, O Lord !
ABBOT. Fool ! Coward !
(A confused murmur of voices is heard. The convent gate
is burst open and a stream of brothers all in the white robes
of the Order of St. Benedict pour into the garden?)
BROTHERS (incoherently}. The pestilence ! Death! Florence
doomed ! The gray sister !
ABBOT (lifting his arm with a strong^ commanding gesture}.
Silence ! ( He glances over the trembling throng and speaks
half in scorn, as though answering his own bitter thoughts.)
And yet you are what I have made you, and now it is
too late ! (A mocking light comes into his face} No, she is
not a pleasant bed-fellow, my lady Pestilence, and why
should I ask you to lie with her when I will not? Does
not her mere breath on your cheek chill your heart s
blood ! Those trembling hands to tend the dying ! Those
pallid lips to whisper courage ! What have I ever given
you that you could give again ! Come, then, we who
are afraid to die, out of the pest-house, out of the death
trap ! Who goes ? Who stays ?
BROTHERS (crowding about him). Take me and me I
go I go!
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT (recklessly and lifting a glass). To Castle delle Torre,
then, to the pure breath of the Apennines and a health
to my lady Pestilence (the monks shudder and cross them
selves), and may she keep us long from our duties!
18
ACT II
A lofty hall in Castle delle Torre. At one side is a wide
marble fire-place and before it a table set with glasses. Enter
Nita, followed by a pouting page. He carries an elaborately
wrought jewel-box and a wreath of roses.
PAGE. To make a messenger of the Grand Duke, Francesco
de Medici, cool his heels all day in the ante-room !
NITA (glancing cautiously about and fingering the lid of the
jewel-box). Just one little peep.
PAGE (pushing her hand away). No.
NITA. How does it open ? Ah, you do not know. I see
your master does not trust you, and, indeed, why should
he?
PAGE. Not trust me ? See, you have only to press the
cherub s head and (As he does so the lid flies open.)
NITA (clasping her hands). Angelisantil A coronet of rubies,
blood red! Oh, to wear such a coronet!
PAGE ( disdainfully lifting the wreath and placing it on her
head). These are for such as you.
NITA (uttering a cry and putting up her hands). The thorns,
the thorns! Blessed saints! it has made my forehead
19
THE TOCSIN
bleed! (She snatches it off, the petals falling as she handles
it.) One more little peep at the jewels, to pay me for
those cruel thorns.
( Their heads are together over the box> when a curtain is
pulled noiselessly back and Sister Maddalena y worn and ex
hausted^ enters. She stands watching the pair silently and
with drawn brows.)
PAGE. Well, then, only you must not touch.
NITA. The cherub head, the laughing one! He may well
laugh. Oh, let me press it! (Sister Maddalena draws a
long breath as the jewel-box flies open.) Who was it sighed ?
(Turning and perceiving the Sister.) Angeli santil (She
starts away from the page.)
SISTER MADDALENA (to the page). You wear the livery of
the Medici.
NITA (falling on her knees). The Holy Sister Maddalena!
On your knees, Sandro !
PAGE (standing ere ft and looking arrogantly at the Sister). I
have a message for the Countess from my master.
NITA (pulling his cloak). Hst, the Holy Sister! Hst,
Ora pro nobisl Your blessing, Holy Sister!
SISTER MADDALENA. I, too, have a message for the Count
ess from my Master. (She catches her breath and puts her
hand to her throat?) The saints grant me strength to de
liver it ! ( She sways and supports herself against the table?)
NITA. O Sister, your bleeding feet !
SISTER MADDALENA (indifferently). Do they bleed? I have
come far.
NITA. Let me bind them up for you. O Sister, you
tremble ! ( She rises and supports Sister Maddalena.) Let
me get you some wine.
SISTER MADDALENA. A cup of water. My throat is
20
THE TOCSIN
parched. The fountain I passed in the court; let me
rest a moment. O Lord, thy vessels of clay
NITA. Lean on me, Sister.
(Sister Maddalena goes out, supported by Nita. The page
shrugs his shoulders and busies himself with his wreath.)
PAGE. Half fallen to pieces. Ah, some one is coming. The
Countess. (He smoothes his ruffles. Enter a servant, throw
ing open the doors.)
SERVANT. His Highness s messenger awaits the Contessa s
pleasure.
(Enter Bianca delle Torre.)
BIANCA (waving her hand indifferently toward the casket).
On the table, there ! You may go.
PAGE (presenting a letter). His Highness hoped I might
have the honor of a return message.
BIANCA. Come for it in three days.
PAGE. At the Countess s service. ( He bows and goes out.)
BIANCA (going to the casket and opening it). Ah ! (She takes
out a coronet.) This and the title of Marchioness if
I choose (she takes out other jewels), and if the Grand
Duchess if Bianca Cappello should die he raised her
to a throne, why not me ? The "infamous Bianca," men
called her. Now this strange wasting illness she has.
Bianca Bianca de Medici. (She puts the jewels back
and closes the casket, then touches a bell on the table. No one
comes. She touches it again impatiently, then again angrily.)
What does this mean! Where are my people! (She
strikes the bell again more angrily. Enter Nita breathless.)
NITA. Pardon, my lady!
BIANCA. How often am I to ring?
NITA. A thousand pardons, gracious lady! I heard and I
could not stir the Holy Sister!
21
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. What holy sister?
NITA. In the courtyard, gracious lady, the Holy Sister
Maddalena and the whole household on its knees and
the blessed saint warning us of death and purgatory
BIANCA. What nonsense is this?
NITA (crossing herself). The gracious lady has only to
open the casement and look. (Volubly.) Even old Josefe
who buried his three sons dry-eyed is all tears. And
when she speaks every one must listen whether one
would or no. And see, Contessa, I myself tore off my
bracelet, the one your Excellency gave me, and cast it at
her feet (holding up her wrist remorsefully). Bare as my
poor arm looks without it, may the saints reward me!
BIANCA. Foolish child! (Giving her a ring from her finger.)
Here lest the saints forget.
NITA (kissing Biancas hand). O Contessa, a thousand
thanks !
BIANCA. What is the Sister doing here?
NITA. On her way to Pistoia, blessed saint, to see His
Holiness; she stopped here for a cup of water and to
bind up her feet St. Agnes, how they bled! She will
be gone now and my bracelet with her.
BIANCA. I should like to see old Josefe in tears.
NITA. And miracles she can work, my lady, and tell the
future
BIANCA (suddenly). Tell the future!
NITA. And has visions, holy saint that she is!
BIANCA. Call her up run after her if she is gone. Quick!
NITA. Yes, my lady. (Exit.)
BIANCA. See into the future! They say these strange
creatures, with their mortifications of the flesh, can do
that. If I knew! If the stake were worth the playing
22
THE TOCSIN
(She stands musing, her hand on the casket; then goes to the
casement and opens it.) Yes, there they all are still, but
rising from their knees and already repenting their re
pentance.
(Enter Nit a throwing open the door.)
NITA. Sister Maddalena. (Exit.)
( The Sister comes forward with a calm dignity but with
searching eyes on Bianca s face.)
SISTER MADDALENA. My time is short.
BIANCA. They say you have strange gifts.
SISTER MADDALENA. That is as Heaven wills.
BIANCA. I would know there is one a a friend stricken
with a wasting sickness
SISTER MADDALENA. You speak of Bianca Cappello.
BIANCA (starting). I had not named her.
SISTER MADDALENA. I will join my prayers with yours
that she may recover.
BIANCA (hastily aside). Heaven forbid! ("To the Sister.) I
fear my prayers would avail little.
SISTER MADDALENA. Nothing is denied the earnest and
suppliant heart.
BIANCA. But Heaven may have a higher crown for her.
( Takes a jewel from her breast.) For your poor. ( The Sis
ter steps back, sternly waving off Bianca s hand.) And twice
this in gold. Tell me, must Florence again mourn its
Grand Duchess?
SISTER MADDALENA (in a sudden fervor of passion). O Flor
ence! O my city! Not yet purged from the pollution
of that adulterous marriage, and now again to be smitten
for its ruler s shame! Strike, strike, O avenging pesti
lence! Stay not thy hand till the abomination be scourged
from off the earth.
23
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. Woman!
SISTER MADDALENA. Where is that voice long dumb
that clarion voice that called me from my sin? O Lord,
how long !
BIANCA. Go!
SISTER MADDALENA (pointing to Eianca with a fierce fire in
her eyes before which she sways back as if from a flame).
You and such as you it is that call down God s wrath in
the fiery darts of the pestilence ! You that walk in high
places! You that wear purple and fine linen!
( Eianca, her hand on her breast, and her eyes fixed on
Sister Maddalena, flies to the doors and throws them back.)
BIANCA. Bernardo! Giorgio!
SISTER MADDALENA. Too long has the Lord held His
hand.
(Enter servants.)
BIANCA (pointing to Sister Maddalena and with her proud
manner again upon her). The woman! Drive her from
the gates ! ( The servants recoil and look in perturbation at
each other.)
SISTER MADDALENA (to the servants). Have no fear. You
obey a higher voice than hers.
BIANCA. Bernardo !
SISTER MADDALENA (to servants). Go. I shall follow. (They
go out. She turns to Eianca with outstretched arms, the
anger gone, and her voice tender and beseeching^) And yet
I know how it is with you. Never dream I do not know.
I too once slept soft and knew the life of courts and was
beautiful. I too lived in the fleeting moment, and was
blind and knew it not. Then a light smote me. Then a
hand plucked me from the abyss as I would pluck you.
It is not yet too late. Christ s bosom is so tender.
24
THE TOCSIN
Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as
snow. Come ! (Bianca turns away. The Sister stands with
outstretched arms.) You will not? You shut your ears to
my voice? Oh, if I could but stay and plead with you!
But my dying people call. (Sister Maddalena advances to
the table, laying her hand on the casket, her voice thrilling
with an almost unearthly solemnity?) Not chance it was
brought me to you. Two messengers have come to you
today, one from an earthly prince, one from the Lord
High God of Hosts. To which word will you give ear?
(She points to the wreath.) See, the chaplet of roses,
twined by carnal love, already fades. (She lifts up the gar
land. The withered petals fall in a rosy shower, leaving a
ring of leaves and thorns.) A chaplet of roses, did I call
it? Behold, it is a crown of thorns! (Bianca shrinks back,
clasping her hands on her breast. The two women stand
gazing into each other s eyes, Bianca s spirit battling with
the solemn inspiration of Sister Maddalena s. Suddenly a
smile of ineffable sweetness and triumph flashes across the
Sister s face.) O blessed crown of thorns ! Yet shall you
wear it ! Yet shall you come ! My soul doth magnify
the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Maker!
(She turns silently and goes out.)
BIANCA (half starting after her). Sister I (She checks
herself and gazes about as if trying to shake off some power
ful impression.) What did she say? Yet should I come?
I? I? The crown of thorns! And scorned me in my
own palace and I was dumb! And knew of whom I
questioned and of my sin ! Fool ! she had met de Medici s
messenger or perhaps by this it is common talk. Fool
that I am !
(Enter servant.)
25
THE TOCSIN
SERVANT. A messenger from Florence, from his Reverence
the Abbot of San Raffaello.
BIANCA. Bring him in.
( Enter Marianna and Er other Sebastiano^)
BIANCA (to Marianna). Well, pretty boy!
MARIANNA. The Reverend Father is at the gate.
BIANCA. Why at the gate? Run and fetch him in.
MARIANNA. The Reverend Father bade me say the plague
is not yet in Florence. We bring no contagion, but every
hour it creeps nearer, and so
BIANCA. So he makes haste to our pure mountain air. A
thousand welcomes to him ! Run child and tell him.
MARIANNA. But his Reverence is not alone.
BIANCA. Whom has he with him?
MARIANNA. Sir Walter Howard, Count Salviati and half
the convent, gracious lady.
BIANCA. The more the merrier. (She turns up Marianna s
face and strokes her cheek.) I prefer you to old shaven
pate there. Now run. (Exeunt Marianna and Brother
Sebastiano. Bianca turns to the servant.) Has the Grand
Duke s messenger gone ?
SERVANT. Yes, my lady.
(She goes to the table and stands brooding, her hand on
the casket. Enter a servant, throwing open the door.)
SERVANT. His Reverence, the Abbot of San Raffaello !
(Enter the Abbot, followed by a train of monks.)
ABBOT (kissing Bianca s hand). My fair cousin.
BIANCA. Welcome.
ABBOT (laughing). And all my white lambs?
BIANCA. Every one.
ABBOT. Poor devils, they were no more eager than was
their shepherd, to lie down with the lion.
26
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. And the Count and Sir Walter?
ABBOT. Stopping to shake the dust from their fineries.
BIANCA. I warrant you made good time from Florence.
ABBOT. Yes, each for himself and the devil take the hind
most, though never dream his name was mentioned!
Such a pattering of aves and paternosters you never
heard.
BIANCA. I can fancy it!
ABBOT. By the mass, I had forgotten we could boast so
much pious learning among us.
BIANCA. And you rode on Saladin?
ABBOT. Yes, I or rather Brother Sebastiano there. Re
morse had made him faint.
BIANCA. And you rode
ABBOT. Shanks mare. Not another to be had for love or
money.
BIANCA. What! you all this way on foot?
ABBOT. Brother Sebastiano is but an indifferent horseman.
I found it wise to have an occasional hand on the bridle.
BIANCA. All those miles! (She pours wine for him.)
ABBOT. And when the paternosters flagged, I kept up the
brothers hearts by tales from Boccaccio
BIANCA. Are those in your breviary ?
ABBOT. Which, to tell the truth, when Gabriello s eyes
were on me I softened a bit. But such a searching of
hearts as we had before leaving Florence !
BIANCA. A conversion?
ABBOT. Hidden iniquities brought to light! Secret sins!
The plague turned us inside out as a pickpocket a rifled
purse.
BIANCA. Even you ?
ABBOT. On tiptoe for the confessional. But as a lover of
27
THE TOCSIN
fair ladies, Bianca, let me warn you to avoid repentance.
It spoils the complexion. Brother Sebastiano has not
got his color yet.
BIANCA. I will take warning.
ABBOT (touching her cheek lightly). A suspicion of pallor?
BIANCA. It is nothing.
ABBOT. No teasing imp of remorse, I trust, concerning pil
fered Burgundy, or a neighbor s husband?
BIANCA (turning hastily to a servant). I am forgetting these
good brothers. Give them food and wine. (Exeunt the
monks.)
ABBOT. Do you harbor a nunnery here? What was that
gray shadow that flitted past us as we came in ?
BIANCA. A sister of St. Francis.
ABBOT. Ugh. The mere sweep of her robe chilled me to
the bone. Her face was as white as her coif. Poor fool,
I dare swear she has not tasted meat this twelvemonth.
(Enter Marianna. She goes to the Abbot and hands him
a large > gold watch.)
MARIANNA. Your Reverence.
ABBOT. What ? I left the friend of my bosom behind me ?
MARIANNA. Brother Angelo rode after us with it.
ABBOT. I would as lief lose my mitre.
BIANCA. And do these curious little toys really keep the
time?
ABBOT. Why, Bianca, there is a saying in Florence, " True
as the Abbot s watch." Gabriello, you shall hear some
time how I came by it, and of my great sermon, and
make round eyes as you do at my tales. Why, boy
(A heavy bell from outside rings sharply?) Hark !
BIANCA. The courtyard bell ! ( The bell sounds again clam
orously?) What can that mean ?
28
THE TOCSIN
MARIANNA. Brother Angelo said he saw a troop of armed
men riding this way post-haste.
ABBOT. Bernardo must be calling your men-at-arms to
gether. (Going toward the door.) I will see what it means.
BIANCA. The country is thick with marauders.
(As the Abbot reaches the door it is flung violently open
and Lorenzo, escorted by two soldiers of the Papal Guard,
rushes in. Marianna half starts toward him, then draws
back.)
ABBOT. Lorenzo!
LORENZO. You here, Reverend Father!
ABBOT. And you, under Papal guard !
LORENZO. Where is Sir Walter Howard? I have papers
for him. I am under sentence of death.
( The Abbot with an inarticulate cry of horror throws
one arm about Lorenzo s shoulder?)
BIANCA. Death !
LORENZO. I had audience with His Holiness, private letters
to deliver. In reaching for them in my bosom a loaded
pistol fell to the ground.
ABBOT (with a cry of anguish). My boy!
BIANCA. Ah, the new edict!
LORENZO. Yes, death to carry loaded weapons in the pres
ence of His Holiness.
ABBOT. But this is not Papal territory. Surely the Grand
Duke
LORENZO. The Grand Duke was there and confirmed the
decree.
ABBOT. My God !
LORENZO. Where is Sir Walter? I am alive for an hour
only. This packet I have sworn on the Holy Sacrament
to deliver into his hands.
29
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. And then?
LORENZO. Shot.
( The deep emotion which appeared almost to overwhelm
the Abbot gives place to a controlled composure. He speaks
rapidly but as a man with all his senses quickened and
calmed by the necessity for aftion}
ABBOT (to a servant}. Call Sir Walter. (Exit the servant.
The Abbot turns to Lorenzo.) How many men have you ?
(Lorenzo goes to the door and opens it silently r , disclosing a
row of armed men.) And this castle musters see, the
window ledge and the ivy will take you down. We can
master these two men silently then
LORENZO. My word.
ABBOT. Child s play.
LORENZO. I swore it.
ABBOT. A curse on your woman s breeding! I am your
father confessor ; I absolve you. I will swear to Sixtus I
forced you.
LORENZO. And answer for it with your life! (Enter Sir
Walter} Ah, Sir Walter ! (He draws him apart}
BIANCA (opening a curtained recess}. You can be private
here.
(Lorenzo, Sir Walter and the guards enter the recess.
Eianca closes the curtain. Marianna remains in the back
ground}
ABBOT (to Eianca}. A forlorn hope, but I will post to Pis-
toia, see His Holiness
BIANCA. Are you in such favor there?
ABBOT. Bad odor enough, with my lax rule. ( Hurries to
the door}
BIANCA (following and detaining him}. I know a better way.
The Grand Duke
3
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT (turning eagerly). Ah!
BIANCA. Sixtus sups tonight with the Grand Duke. He
desires of all things to keep friendship with Florence. I
will ask Lorenzo s life of the Grand Duke !
ABBOT (seizing her hand with a burst of hope). And when
Bianca sues
( Marianna, breathless, steals unobserved nearer)
BIANCA. One of the brothers shall take my message.
MARIANNA (starting forward and clutching the Abbot s robe).
No I I will take the message!
ABBOT (seizing Marianna roughly). Eavesdropping!
MARIANNA (sinking her eyes). When it concerns the fate
of one you love !
BIANCA. Is the boy to be trusted?
MARIANNA. Yes, yes! O gracious lady, they rescued me
from death at the abbey. (Turning to the Abbot again)
Trust me, trust me! O Reverend Father, let me go!
BIANCA. The boy s face will be a passport. ( The Abbot
rings a bell for a servant.) Here, child (to Marianna,
drawing off a ring), post to the palace, demand entrance.
Insist this ring shall reach the hands of the Grand Duke.
He will see you. Say to him, " Bianca delle Torre asks
her first favor of Francesco de Medici the life of her
cousin s ward, Lorenzo Tornabuoni," and here (Bi
anca goes to the table and writes a few lines, Marianna
standing by.)
ABBOT (to servant who enters). Bernardo and five of his
men shall ride with this boy to Pistoia. A hundred gold
pieces to each if they are back before the hour. Now
Gabriello laggard off, off"! (Exeunt Marianna and
servant.)
BIANCA. Who is the boy ?
31
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT. Brother Sebastiano picked him up more dead than
alive by the roadside. He is country bred, that is all I
know. I have had him by me and he seems to cling to
me in a dumb way.
BIANCA. He found speech tonight.
ABBOT (as the clock strikes). Ah! that must be mended.
(He sets back the hands of the clock) Too fast by a half-
hour.
BIANCA. But there are other clocks on the castle.
ABBOT. Then make them tell the same tale.
BIANCA. That is soon done. (Exit Bianca.)
ABBOT (opening the window, through which comes a rapid
clatter of hoofs). There they go! There s Gabriello !
Why, the boy is mad. The mare can never keep that
pace. ( <The clatter grows fainter.) Five minutes to the
city gate, three to the palace, then delays, delays ! Out
of sight now, behind the cypresses.
(Enter Bianca.)
BIANCA (pointing to the recess). Still closeted with Sir
Walter?
ABBOT. Those cursed plots! And it was I got the boy
into this coil !
BIANCA (seating herself). Surely you have no interest in
Mary of Scotland?
ABBOT. I sent Lorenzo out of the country to keep him
from an act of folly. What piece of womanhood do you
think he was mad to marry?
BIANCA. His mistress like the Grand Duke?
ABBOT. Why, the boy is an anchorite. No, a peasant girl,
a contadina off his estates here in the Apennines. Marry,
I say !
BIANCA. Is he simple?
32
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT. Was I not, to let him follow his bent and grow up
in that mountain tower of his with peasants and holy
sisters as his companions ? (He seats himself near Bianca.)
BIANCA (starting). What holy sisters?
ABBOT. You have heard of Sister Maddalena ?
BIANCA. She again!
ABBOT. Lorenzo first came under her spell and was all for
the cloister, but now it is marriage and his contadina. In
that Arcadia, you see, they still believe in God and
love.
BIANCA. Perhaps at his age you too held love worthy of a
shrine.
ABBOT. Of a shrine, yes ; of worship, yes ; of belief, hardly.
BIANCA. Subtle distinction for the brain of a woman.
ABBOT. Do I not worship your proud eyes, but, pardon
me, do I believe in them ?
BIANCA. A little more belief and they might have proved
worthier.
ABBOT. Is belief so potent a god? Come, let us believe in
one another and be saints instead of sinners. (He rises
and goes to the window, then returns. ) Countess !
BIANCA. Cousin !
ABBOT. What all England failed to do, you can.
BIANCA. What is that ?
ABBOT. Win me my boy away from this folly.
BIANCA. I ?
ABBOT. A glance, a smile, a what you will, and in the dip
of a swallow s wing, he is yours.
BIANCA. And the little peasant maid ?
ABBOT. I will send her a pair of earrings.
BIANCA (with sudden passion). And why do you choose me
for this? Do you think there are not enough of you
33
THE TOCSIN
men about me fawning and flattering and lying, but I
must stoop to your devil s work?
ABBOT. Well, let it lie. Let the boy marry his coarse-
skinned beauty. What does it matter?
BIANCA (bitterly). Yes, what does it matter? He will forget
her in time. As well now as then.
ABBOT. Then I can count on you?
BIANCA. I am weary of it all!
ABBOT. Still, if he lives, you will help me. ( He goes to the
window and opens it. A faint sound of distant bells is heard.)
Hark ! the bells of Pistoia striking the hour.
(Enter the Captain of the Papal Guard and his men. The
Abbot hastily closes the window.)
CAPTAIN. The prisoner.
(Enter from the recess two guards, Lorenzo and Sir
Walter.)
ABBOT (pointing to the clock). Not yet the clock is not
yet on the hour.
CAPTAIN. The cathedral chimes are striking. Your clock
is slow.
BIANCA. Pardon me, sir, this clock is absolutely true.
CAPTAIN. But the cathedral chimes
ABBOT. It was the quarter you heard. But there are other
clocks in the castle. Send one of your men to verify
this.
CAPTAIN. I will go myself.
BIANCA. And I will show you the way.
CAPTAIN. You honor me, gracious lady. (Exeunt Bianca,
Sir Walter and Captain. The soldiers take their station by
the door. The Abbot and Lorenzo come forward.)
LORENZO (giving him a packet). For Sister Maddalena.
ABBOT. Where is the sister ?
34
THE TOCSIN
LORENZO. Wherever death is busiest; and this (giving the
Abbot another packet), you will send a trusty messenger
with this to Marianna O Father! ( Turns away.)
ABBOT. Why, courage, my boy.
LORENZO. And now to make my peace with Heaven !
ABBOT. You are not going to Heaven yet.
LORENZO. To the chapel. The Holy Sacrament, Rever
end Father, before I die.
ABBOT. Die ? Why, faint heart, there is a friend even now
pleading for you with His Holiness.
LORENZO. Sister Maddalena?
ABBOT. Francesco de* Medici.
LORENZO. He is no friend of mine.
ABBOT. No, but of our Countess. She has sent a messen
ger to beg your life.
LORENZO. Why should de Medici do her that grace ? Is
it true then that she
ABBOT. Hush ! Ask why of a woman ? Come, lift up your
head and gloriously embrace your life when it comes
back to you.
LORENZO. The gift of a wanton !
(Enter Bianca and Captain.)
BIANCA. The clocks all tell the same tale.
CAPTAIN. With a singular uniformity.
ABBOT (to the Captain). Well, then, a little patience. Death
will wait, and till we are ready for him, with the permis
sion of the Countess, a cup of wine together. (He goes
with the Captain to the table by the fireplace.)
BIANCA. Be seated, gentlemen. ( They seat themselves and
talk. Lorenzo stands moodily in the foreground. Bianca goes
to him. He pays no attention.)
BIANCA. Can I do anything for you ?
35
THE TOCSIN
LORENZO (roughly). You have done too much already,
Countess.
BIANCA. I do not understand.
LORENZO. Can you shrive me? There is the Reverend
Father at his cups, and in a half-hour I shall be dead in
a ditch without bell or book.
BIANCA. Do you not see we must blind the Captain to our
tampering with the clocks ? Keep up hope. The pardon
must come.
LORENZO. Not at this price. No, I will not touch it. I
have had clean hands till now.
BIANCA. I do not follow you. Why do you turn from me ?
Clean hands ? What do you mean ? You will not speak ?
Not look at me? Holy saints! I hope there is nothing
on your conscience that your eyes cannot meet mine.
LORENZO. (Lifts his eyes slowly and fixes them on Bianca.
She gazes back with a long direct look, They stand silent
awhile?) And yet you look
BIANCA. Look ?
LORENZO. Why should de Medici grant you this favor?
BIANCA. Why should he? Why? (Turns away.) Ah, that
was why you could not look at me. By St. Agnes! I
believe you were thinking evil of me.
LORENZO. Forgive me but they say they say
BIANCA (proudly). No more. My pity for you made me
blind. I forgot here in my secluded widowhood how
cruelly the world may misjudge a woman.
LORENZO. I was a brute. I had not looked in your face.
But now
BIANCA. Let me tell you why the Grand Duke is kind to
me.
LORENZO. No, no! Your eyes have explained all.
36
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. But you shall hear me. When the Grand Duke
married Bianca Cappello
LORENZO. Do not speak of Bianca Cappello !
BIANCA. But I bear her name, Bianca and I too am from
Venice and at the wedding pageants (I was a child
then), they dressed me in white and I carried a golden
casket holding a milk-white dove. And I knelt at their
feet and presented the dove, but the bird flew back and
nestled in my breast. And the Grand Duke was touched
and asked my name, and when I said Bianca, told me for
that name I should always be dear to his heart.
LORENZO. The white dove nestles still in your breast. Can
you forgive me? (He takes her hand. "They move back,
talking.)
CAPTAIN (laughing). Very good, Reverend Father, but the
time ! (He rises and looks at the clock.)
ABBOT. But Monsignor s answer was still better. He
said
CAPTAIN. One moment, Reverend Father, that watch of
your Reverence s that famous watch they talk of in
Florence, and which never lies, has your Reverence that
with you ?
BIANCA (aside to Lorenzo). Alas, we forgot to set it back!
ABBOT (rising and standing by chimney). Unfortunately I
left it in the monastery.
CAPTAIN. And yet as I sat by you just now I could have
sworn I heard it ticking.
ABBOT (thrusting his hand in his robe). You are right. I
forgot. Brother Angelo posted after me with it.
CAPTAIN. I have a curiosity to see one of these little bosom
consciences. (He approaches the Abbot and holds out his
hand.)
37
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT. With all the pleasure in the world. (He draws the
watch out and as he does so, drops it, as it were inadver
tently on the marble hearth, with a crash. All start for
ward.)
ABBOT. Per Bacco !
BIANCA. What a misfortune !
LORENZO. Your famous watch !
CAPTAIN. Most singular calamity.
ABBOT (picking it up). I shall have to preach another
sermon.
CAPTAIN (to Lorenzo). Your time is short.
(Abbot hastens to the window and opens it. Lorenzo
joins him.)
ABBOT. The moon is out again.
BIANCA (to the Captain). Come and sit by the fire, Signor,
the night is cold.
CAPTAIN (pointing to the clock). Pardon me, lady.
ABBOT ( at the window ). A horse, a horse riderless no !
the boy bent low over the saddle bow!
CAPTAIN. The prisoner will make his farewells.
( "The Abbot leans breathless out of the window. The
distant clatter of horses hoofs is heard drawing nearer.
Lorenzo falls at the Abbot s feet and takes his hand. Bianca
joins them and looks over the Abbot J s shoulder.)
LORENZO. Your blessing, Father.
ABBOT (paying no attention to Lorenzo). Past the campanile,
the cypresses, now the long loop in the road. What! He
leaps the wall and tears across the gorse ! ( The clatter
ceases.) Brave boy ! Mad boy ! The mare can never take
the next wall !
BIANCA. Holy Virgin, he has leapt it! (The clatter of hoofs
is heard again louder and louder. The clock begins to strike.)
38
THE TOCSIN
CAPTAIN (to the guard}. The prisoner!
( The guard approach Lorenzo, who rises. The hoof-beats
cease?)
ABBOT. At the gate !
LORENZO. Father, your blessing. (The guard form about
Lorenzo.}
CAPTAIN. March! (As the clock is on the last stroke of
twelve, the door is thrown open and Marianna rushes in
waving a paper. Lorenzo s back is turned.)
MARIANNA (breathlessly and faintly). The pardon, the
pardon !
(The Abbot snatches the paper from her.)
ABBOT. The pardon !
(The soldiers draw away from Lorenzo who falls at
Bianca s feet and kisses her hand.)
LORENZO. You have saved my life !
MARIANNA ( at the door). No, I I
(No one observes her. She looks at Bianca and Lorenzo,
throws up her arms with a gesture of despair and hurries
from the room.)
ABBOT ( looking up from the pardon ). But the boy, Gabriello,
where is he?
39
ACT III
A green meadow with Castle delle Torre in the background.
Behind its towers rise the peaks of the Apennines. In the
center is a wayside shrine to the Virgin, approached by broad
stone steps and a stone platform. Sister Maddalena is kneel-
ing at the top of the steps before the shrine. A peasant and
his wife enter ^ leading a child, its hands full of field flowers.
PEASANT WOMAN (to the child). Yes, Lillo shall be lifted
up in my arms and shall lay the pretty flowers himself
at the feet of Madonna.
PEASANT (pointing to Sister Maddalena). Ah, a sister of
St. Francis.
PEASANT WOMAN. Blessed saints ! I know her by her
worn hands! It is the Holy Sister Maddalena! (She
sinks on her knees at the bottom of the steps and pulls the
child down after her.) Look, little one ! It was she saved
you from death when the fever was on you.
PEASANT (kneeling and taking off his hat). Quiet, little one!
PEASANT WOMAN (to her husband). Run, Niccolo, and
fetch old Bratti and the miller s daughter, that she may
lay her blessed hands on them and cure them.
4 o
THE TOCSIN
PEASANT (rising). Well said. (He goes out softly. The woman
tells her beads y while the child, weary with kneeling, sinks
into a sitting posture and -plays with his flowers. Three
peasant girls enter with their hoes and baskets. The woman
motions to them and whispers!)
PEASANT WOMAN. The Holy Sister Maddalena ! She who
saved my Lillo.
( The girls look awestruck, and one whispers, " Ah, the
holy saint ! " They cross themselves and kneel. One begins
softly to sing an A<ve Maria, the others take it up. Sister
Maddalena stirs, but still prays, kneeling. As the hymn dies
away the peasant returns leading a decrepit old man and
followed by a pale young girl.)
PEASANT (to his charges). Here, close to the steps, so that
her blessing may fall first on you.
( They kneel. Sister Maddalena stirs, raises her hands to
Heaven and rising slowly turns and looks down on the kneel
ing group. They gaze at her in awe. She lets her eyes rest
silently and solemnly on each, standing up tall and pale in
her gray Franciscan robe. Her eyes fall full of pity on old
Eratti and the miller s daughter?)
PEASANT WOMAN. Your blessing, Holy Sister.
ALL. Bless us, bless us.
SISTER MADDALENA. I can but pray for you. Heaven
alone blesses.
PEASANT WOMAN {holding up Lillo) . See, Holy Sister, the
little one. He was sick to death when you passed here
in the spring, and you laid your hands upon him and
now he leaps like a young kid. ( Taking old Eratti y s hand)
Lay your blessed hands on this old man, Madonna.
SISTER MADDALENA {descending the steps slowly and laying
her hand on Eratti* s head). You will not suffer long.
4 1
THE TOCSIN
(She turns to the miller s daughter.) You should be in
your bed. Where do you live?
MILLER S DAUGHTER. In the mill yonder, Sister.
SISTER MADDALENA. Go home. I will come to you soon.
MILLER S DAUGHTER. And stay with us, Sister?
SISTER MADDALENA. No. They need me in Florence.
ALL (clamoring). In Florence ? O Holy Sister, the pestilence,
the pestilence ! You will die ! Do not leave us ! Do not
go to Florence ! ( They cluster about her, kissing her hands
and the hem of her garments. She tries to prevent them.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Not to me! Not to me!
(Enter Marianna in peasant s dress. She falls on her
knees before Sister Maddalena, who stoops and raises her
tenderly.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Marianna!
MARIANNA. O Sister, Sister !
SISTER MADDALENA (with authority to the peasants). Go
now. (fo the miller s daughter.} I will come to you
soon. (Exeunt all but Sister Maddalena and Marianna.)
You promised to be at the gate.
MARIANNA. Do not reproach me. O Sister, let me lay my
head on your breast, for I am sick unto death.
SISTER MADDALENA. Where is the pain, little one ?
MARIANNA. Here in my heart.
SISTER MADDALENA. The Holy Virgin will comfort you.
MARIANNA (looking up and pointing off, with a shrinking fear).
O angeli beati! they are here. Come away, Sister.
SISTER MADDALENA (turning in the direction in which Mari
anna is pointing, and starting as with a great thrill). The
Father in white ! Who is he ? Who is he ?
MARIANNA. The Abbot of San Raffaelio. O Sister, come
away!
THE TOCSIN
SISTER MAD DALENA. Abbot? Simple priest, then. But he
it is, none other. " O Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace ! "
MARIANNA (plucking at Sister Maddalena s robe). Come,
Sister.
SISTER MADDALENA (unmindful of Marianna ). To speak
to him before I die!
MARIANNA. Not now ! O Sister, come !
SISTER MADDALENA. Wandering in green fields, and Flor
ence dying? (Checking herself.) Peace! That I should
dare question the ways of the Lord s anointed. Yet shall
he bless me before I go ! ( She starts away, oblivious of
Marianna, who clings to her robe.)
MARIANNA (piteously). You too forsake me?
SISTER MADDALENA. Let me go. (She tries to unclasp
Marianna s hands.)
MARIANNA. O Sister, my heart is breaking !
SISTER MADDALENA (in violent agitation and almost harshly).
Do not stop me. Unclasp your hands.
MARIANNA. When were you ever deaf to me before ?
SISTER MADDALENA (in increasing excitement, while her whole
body seems to sway in the direftion in which her eyes are
straining). The Lord has promised me. I prayed but
one thing of the Lord, that I might meet once more,
face to face, mine angel of deliverance, fall at his feet
MARIANNA (despairingly and letting go the sister s dress).
He does not need you, but I, I
(Sister Maddalena, freed, starts forward. Marianna,
with a cry, buries her face in her hands and sinks to the
ground. At the cry Sister Maddalena checks her flight, turns
and looks back.)
SISTER MADDALENA (panting with the violent conflicJ of her
43
THE TOCSIN
emotions}. O Lord, not this sacrifice ! Show me not the
Promised Land and bind my feet! The time is short!
(She half starts away once more, then looks back and echoes
Marianna s words.) Not need me! (She utters a bitter
cry.) Alas, how should the cherished of the Most High
need such as I ? (A deep quivering sigh bursts from her
lips. The light fades from her face. Her arms fall to her
sides. She turns slowly to Marianna, an expression of in
finite pity creeping into her eyes as she looks down on her.
She opens her arms with a gesture of noble and tender pro-
tecJion.) Come, little one. (Marianna leaps to her feet
and throws herself on Sister Maddalena s breast; then lifting
her head gazes off and points as in an agony.)
MARIANNA. Lorenzo! Come, come away. (She draws the
sister feverishly by the robe and they go out.)
(Enter from grove Lorenzo and Bianca, Lorenzo carry
ing a spray of white hawthorn?)
BIANCA. We have outstripped the rest.
LORENZO {looking off in evident agitation). Sister Madda-
lena ? No, it cannot be.
BIANCA {absorbed in trying to gain his attention and with an
evident undercurrent of fear lest she may not). You do not
thank me for having given them the slip ? And all for
you.
LORENZO (coldly). For me today. For whom tomorrow?
( He turns away. Bianca watches him, her brow contracting.
She fingers her dress nervously, then approaches him and
holds out her hand with a gesture half beseeching.)
BIANCA. I wait. My hawthorn.
LORENZO (moodily). It was not of you I thought when I
pulled it.
BIANCA. Of whom, then ?
44
THE TOCSIN
(Lorenzo moves away with his eyes on the ground. Sud
denly he stands motionless, then kneels down beside a tuft of
violets. Bianca follows unobserved.)
LORENZO. Blue violets ! ( He puts out his hand as if to touch
them, then draws it away as if stung.) Marianna s eyes!
BIANCA (aside). Marianna s eyes! (Aloud.) Why did you
start back ?
LORENZO. Something stung me.
BIANCA. Still they are sweet. Pick them.
LORENZO (covering the violet tuft with a swift protecting
gesture). No!
BIANCA. Why will you not gather them ?
LORENZO (passionately). Because I am not worthy, not
worthy, O my God ! ( He rises and turns from her, and
half kneels on the lowest step of the shrine.)
BIANCA (looking down at the violets). And yet I could crush
them with my foot. (She stands musing, then goes slowly
toward him. He does not turn. She stands beside him. He
keeps his eyes turned from her. She lifts her hand and
lightly touches his forehead and hair.) You look pale,
Lorenzino. Pardon my touch, but those little damp
curls on your forehead are so like my brother s, who died
young. (He partly turns toward her, as though the spell
of her beauty were more than he could resist. Bianca still
plays with his hair.) Why, one has twined round my
finger like a betrothal ring. I am weary, too, Lorenzo
mio. Such weariness I never knew before.
LORENZO. I am sorry.
BIANCA. I was waking late last night over an old book
of poems. One stuck in my memory. I hardly know
what it means. Perhaps you can tell me. It runs
thus:
45
THE TOCSIN
" Oh, I ve a Queen rose in my bower,
(She lays one hand on her breast)
But the white hawthorn is in flower !
(She takes the spray of haw thorn from his unresisting hand}
Down in the sunny lane it blows,
Be thou patient, my royal rose.
I have a mind for one white spray :
(She sighs)
See, I will wear it here today ;
(She fastens it in his bosom, reading in his ardent eyes that
she has conquered, and with a ring of triumph in her voice)
Only today, sweet rustic flower,
For I have a Queen rose in my bower."
(She draws herself up with a superb gesture and flings
back her head.)
LORENZO (tearing the hawthorn from his bosom and throwing
it underfoot). What is the white hawthorn to me when
I have my Queen rose ? ( He tries to seize her hands but
she draws them away and glides off, smiling at him over her
shoulder.)
BIANCA (tantalizingly). Have you your Queen rose? (She
points back.) Here are others come to gather it.
LORENZO. Never. (He seizes her hand roughly.) Come,
you shall listen to me.
BIANCA (waving her hand to Count Salviati and Sir Walter
who enter from the grove). The dance is beginning. Make
haste. (They start forward, but Lorenzo hurries Bianca
off.)
SIR WALTER (pausing). Fairly outstripped in the race.
COUNT SALVIATI (shrugging his shoulders). And by a mere
boy. My scheme, too. She plays her part well, if it is
a part.
46
THE TOCSIN
(Enter the Abbot , poring over an open scroll.)
SIR WALTER. What does his Reverence say to it?
COUNT SALVIATI (to the Abbot). Your pardon for hurry
ing ahead. Has your Reverence observed the dance our
fair will-o -the-wisp is leading your ward ?
ABBOT (with off e Red solemnity). Varium et mutabile semper
femina. Gentlemen, I will give her ghostly counsel. ( He
seats himself on the stone step.)
COUNT SALVIATI. And let the moral be the shortness of
Lorenzo s rent roll and the length of mine.
SIR WALTER (pointing in the direction in which Bianca and
Lorenzo have gone). See, the peasant girls are gathered
on the green.
COUNT SALVIATI. And there is the music. (The sound of
distant rustic dance music is heard.) Surely your Rever
ence will go on to thefesta?
ABBOT (poring over his scroll). My new library pleases
me better than your thick-ankled contadine. See, gentle
men, of Carrara marble and well set among the cypresses.
(They look over the Abbot s shoulder?)
SIR WALTER. Your Reverence s taste is known.
(Enter Er other Sebastiano hastily. He gives a paper to
the Abbot.)
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. From Florence, Reverend Father.
ABBOT. And you have been near the messenger? Stand
back. ( He opens the scroll and reads.) " The streets pop
ulated but by the unburied dead; a noisome pall hanging
over the city ; groans, curses, purple corpses heaped in
the charnel-houses " (As he reads an involuntary
shudder passes over him. The repulsion felt by a beauty-
loving nature for the foul and ugly Jills him with a sickening
disgust. He tears the paper vehemently into bits.) Pah !
47
THE TOCSIN
the Prior used not to have such bad taste. (Harshly to
Brother Sebastiano.) We know all this. Why do you wait ?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. The answer, Reverend Father.
ABBOT. What answer? Have I not thrown open my abbey
to the miserable wretches? My refectories ? My gar
dens ? Go.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. They starve, Reverend Father.
ABBOT. Who ? The dead ? There are none but the dead
left in Florence. (He turns away, then perceiving Brother
Sebastiano still timidly lingering, he fingers a ring he wears.)
What, not yet gone ? Here, then. ( He draws off the ring.)
Take that. Sell it at Pistoia, and mind, at its worth.
Prince Farnese gave it to me. (Brother Sebastiano turns
to go.) And wait ! my service of wrought gold, Cellini s
work ; the Cardinal will give you a lapful of broad pieces
for it. He fancied it when he last supped with me. Sell
it and feed and bury with it. Now go; and mind (with
a sudden gust of passion), no more of your reeking tales!
Do you think I do not know how they look, who die of
the plague? The swollen limbs, the starting eyes, the
pestilent odor, the ( He stands for a moment with
wide eyes, as though transfixed with unspeakable horror;
then passing his hand over his forehead, turns to the others
with an attempt to assume his former lightness of manner.
The Brother goes out.) Pardon me, gentlemen. This un
couth simplicity, with his tales unfit for ears polite
from a child up, such sights and sounds have always
unnerved me but pardon me, as I was saying (he
spreads out the plan of his library) of Carrara marble,
the frieze by Gian Bologna, a troop of drowsy leopards
teased by dancing nymphs. (He shivers again slightly
and draws a long breath.)
4 8
THE TOCSIN
COUNT SALVIATI. Your Reverence half persuades me to
join your order.
ABBOT. You shall be cellarer in place of Brother Gregorius.
I mistrust Brother Gregorius; his paunch is too round.
(He makes certain marks on the parchment.)
SIR WALTER. Shall we not go on to the village ? ( He points
off uneasily.)
ABBOT. Pardon me, gentlemen. Here is a mistake. I will
wait your return. The loggia lacks airiness. I must speak
to Gian Bologna.
COUNT SALVIATI. Had your Reverence cared, you could
have beaten every architect in Italy on his own ground.
ABBOT. Count Salviati is too kind. And had I taken to
the arts, what would Holy Church have done ?
(Enter a group of peasant girls , gaily dressed, on their
way to the festa. They make a reverence to the Abbot and
are about to hurry on, when Count Salviati detains them.)
COUNT SALVIATI. Not so fast, my beauties. Here is music ;
here are partners.
SIR WALTER. The Countess
COUNT SALVIATI. We have pursued too long. Let us try
a show of indifference. (He takes the hand of a girl. Sir
Walter that of another. The Abbot paces up and down,
poring over his parchment.}
ABBOT. Yes, the loggia lacks airiness. (He shivers.) Pah!
the fellow has left the smell of the charnel-house behind
him. When I return, every building they have dese
crated shall be razed to the ground not a stone left
standing. And some fools there are that have stayed
behind. That sexless gray-robe, with her face of chalk,
that flitted past us at the gate, was hurrying to Florence,
it may be, and hoping to win eternal glory. Per Bacco!
49
THE TOCSIN
the eternal glory of this world is enough for me, could I
forget, forget ! Ah, why did the imbecile come thrust
ing the taint of his purple corpses into this pure air!
Come, my loggia! Gian Bologna shall not touch it. I
myself shall make such a dream of wrought stone as will
be the marvel of all ages. (He moves off into the grove.
The music comes suddenly to a stop and then begins in a
minor, plaintive key.)
COUNT SALVIATI (taking a few more turns with his partner,
then pausing) . Who could dance to that dirge?
PEASANT GIRL. It must be the blind fiddler from Prato.
COUNT SALVIATI. Let us make him change his tune. (He
goes out with Sir Walter and the peasant girls. The Abbot
paces back and forth from the grove, immersed in his plan.)
ABBOT (his head over the parchment). And here a column
of red porphyry. These capitals I shall myself design.
(He disappears into the grove just as Marianna comes in on
the other side. She keeps out of sight behind the shrine till
the Abbot has gone and then she hurries to the spot where
the discarded hawthorn spray is lying, picks it up, kisses it
and places it in her bosom. She turns and looks back.)
MARIANNA. But where is Sister Maddalena, now that I
have brought her back to his Reverence? Oh, if I dared
see him too, and send one word to Lorenzo ! ( Looking
off.) Ah, she is waiting to bless that old man, and yet she
seemed in such haste I could scarce keep up with her.
(She takes the hawthorn from her bosom and kisses it pas
sionately.) He pulled it, he held it, and she, she put it in
his bosom and he plucked it out and threw it away. What
was she saying to him? She touched his hair! O Holy
Virgin, she touched the little curls on his forehead, and
I I had ridden through the night for him. I saved
50
THE TOCSIN
him from death and he never knew. (She mounts the steps
languidly to the shrine, throws herself down before it, kisses
the hawthorn spray and lays it at Mary s feet. Then she
snatches it up vehemently and holds it against her breast.)
No, no, not this, Holy Mother, I cannot give you this.
He held it. It is still warm from his touch. The fields
are blood-red with poppies; I will pull my hands full
for you, and my heart, my broken heart, that I lay at
your feet, but these flowers, do not ask me for these,
Mother of Sorrows, not these. (She puts the hawthorn
in the folds of her bodice, rises and turns slowly. The Abbot
has come from the grove and is looking intently at her. As,
absorbed in her grief, she descends the steps, he comes for
ward.)
ABBOT. Gabriello !
MARIANNA (starting and covering her face). Father!
ABBOT (taking her hands from her face). We have sought
the country over for you. Why are you masking here ?
MARIANNA. I am not masking, Reverend Father.
ABBOT (looking at her fixedly). No, your blushes tell me
that. (His voice sounds hard, as one suffering a disillusion-
ment.) How is it you can still blush? The masking
came before.
MARIANNA. Forgive me, Father.
ABBOT. You saved Lorenzo. Can there be talk of forgive
ness ? Come, that he may reward you.
MARIANNA (shrinking away). No, no.
ABBOT. And you housed with us at the convent and we
never knew! (After a pause.) There was something
about you, boy there I fall into the old trick but
there was something in your eyes of the freshness of the
fields that half made me believe again in the old nursery
51
THE TOCSIN
legends of pure women and brave men ; but, after all-
(he laughs cynically).
MARIANNA. O Reverend Father, forgive me! I know it
was a sin, but I meant no wrong. O Father, I had never
left my home before, but he had been gone so long, so
long, and I did not know where he was. And I thought
if I called myself after the blessed Archangel Gabriel, no
harm could come to me.
ABBOT. Who had been gone so long?
MARIANNA (sinking her eyes). He is living near here.
ABBOT. One of the villagers ? (Marianna makes no reply.)
And he had gone to Florence ? And you followed him ?
Where is he now?
MARIANNA (almost inaudibly). He loves me no longer,
Father.
ABBOT (stooping to hear, and his old belief and tenderness
rushing back). Loves you no longer?
MARIANNA. No, Father.
ABBOT. He loves some one else? (Marianna covers her
face with her hands.) Then you hate him ?
MARIANNA (uncovering her face). Hate him? O Father,
I first know now how I love him. And every day, every
hour I pray for his happiness.
ABBOT. His happiness with her? You call this love?
MARIANNA. Why, Father, how could I help but long for
him to be happy ? I love him.
ABBOT. Love him ? So was I never loved !
MARIANNA. Is not this love? I cannot read in the great
books you pore over; perhaps it stands written in them
what love is ; I only know this : when he loved me I was
in paradise, and now that he has forgotten me, I pray the
Holy Mother to let me die and to make him happy.
52
THE TOCSIN
ABBOT (deeply moved and taking her hands reverently). He
must love you again. He shall. He is not worthy of
you no man could be. But who is the man? Let me
go to him. If he were the son of the Grand Duke, you
should have him. I never knew women could love like
this ! Where is he ? Tell me, child. Trust me, little one.
MARIANNA. It is he is
(Lorenzo s voice is heard outside.)
LORENZO (calling). No, Count, we wait for no loiterers.
MARIANNA (starting). Ah!
ABBOT. Trust me, child.
MARIANNA (trembling). They are returning from the dance.
Come, Father, not now, not now. (She draws him with
her to the grove. A group of peasants pass, then Lorenzo
and Bianca enter.)
BIANCA. What, not a pair of bright eyes among them ?
LORENZO. I saw only yours.
BIANCA. Oh, Lorenzo, I hear such speech too often.
LORENZO. Never listen to it from others, only from me
from me.
BIANCA (letting her hand rest in his and sighing). I wish I
had not gone to the dance.
LORENZO. Why do you sigh ?
BIANCA. Those peasant girls, after all they love as we do.
I read it in their eyes.
LORENZO. Do not sigh.
BIANCA. It had been better for you and better for me if I
had sighed more in my life. As I look back, it seems
all a mad dream.
LORENZO. Because love was lacking.
BIANCA (wistfully). Love?
LORENZO (looking back). What! Sister Maddalena here?
53
THE TOCSIN
BlANCA. Ah !
LORENZO. I cannot meet her now.
BIANCA (shuddering}. No, no. The crown of thorns ! She
said, yet should I come ! (They look at each other fearfully
and guiltily and hurry out. Marianna staggers from the
grove to the shrine.)
MARIANNA. Lorenzo ! O Mother of Sorrows !
ABBOT (catching her in his arms as she falls fainting). Lor
enzo, the man ? And you, Marianna? And it was I lured
Bianca to come between you ! O Lorenzo, my boy, to
have robbed you of this you whom I love better than
life ! O my God, what have I done !
( He kneels down by Marianna, raises her reverently and
tenderly on his breast and bears her out. Groups of peasants
returning from the festa continue to pass, among them Count
Salviati and his partner. Count Salviati puts his arm about
the girl but she pushes it away.)
PEASANT GIRL. Not now; do you not see the Holy Sister
is following us ?
COUNT SALVIATI. Make haste, then. ( They go on, and amid
a group of villagers Sister Maddalena enters. When she
reaches the shrine she pauses and looks eagerly about.)
SISTER MADDALENA (breathlessly). Marianna? Where is
she?
VILLAGERS. Farewell, Sister. Bless us. (They kneel for her
blessing, which she gives automatically as though her thoughts
were far from them. They rise and go out. As the last one
leaves, she throws up her arms with a gesture of joyous
exultation.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Now! (She turns toward the castle.)
O blessed walls that give him shelter ! Oh, after all these
years, at last, at last! (She starts forward, then hurries to
54
THE TOCSIN
the shrine?) One prayer, first, of thanksgiving ! ( She
mounts the steps and throws herself down before the Virgin,
but after a moment rises feverishly and fearfully , her face
full of perturbation.) What has come to me ? I have no
words to pray. Only a great sea of joy surging over me,
and his face, his and not the Virgin Mother s ! Oh, is it
any mortal longing that moves me? Is the old taint not
yet scourged away? The flesh still uncrucified ? (In
agonized inward con/lift.) O Lord, Lord ! it is for Thee
and for Thy glory I would fall at his feet, he who
brought me to Thee ! Have mercy on Thy hand-maiden !
Search my heart ! Dost Thou deny me this ? Wouldst
Thou visit me with Thy wrath because my feet faltered
at the cry of the stricken child Marianna ? Ask not this
sacrifice ! Have I not labored in Thy vineyard ? Oh, is
it my heart of flesh that still cries out ? Give me a sign !
All is dark. I know not which way to turn. Send down
Thine angels to me, as in times past! (She stands breath
less, her eyes fixed, her arms outstretched, silent at first, then
speaking in a far-away monotone as one in a trance.) Light,
light ineffable, I cannot see for light, wings, tier on
tier. Bear me up, O blessed ones, lest I faint ! A great
hush. Hark! Which of the bright host spake? One?
All? What were the words? "He needs you." (A
wonderful radiance steals over her face.) Needs me ? Me ?
(She stands rapt and motionless, her lips parted, her eyes
fixed in mystic ecstasy. Little by little her lips move as if in
silent, awestruck prayer, then with a gesture of unutterable
joy she breaks into speech.) Needs me? Have I heard
aright ? Even me, the dust at his feet ? The Lord hath
spoken. Thy voice, O Lord of Hosts ! Thy behest ! I
may go to him ! I am answered !
55
ACT IV
SCENE I Biancas dressing-room. Bianca seated at a table
with a casket of jewels before her. She rests her chin on her
hand and gazes off as one lost in thought. In one hand she
holds a letter.
BIANCA (dreamily). The title of Marchioness and (lifting
a string of jewels} these. And the Grand Duke s favor
for how long? And if Bianca Cappello dies! And
Lorenzo? (She fingers the jewels, clasps a bracelet about
her wrist, then a string of rubies about her neck, takes up a
coronet, rises, goes to a mirror and fastens it in her hair.
She stands head erefl and proud gazing at herself in the
mirror, then paces restlessly up and down, returns to the
mirror, then to the table and takes up the letter} And
the Duke s messenger waits for my answer! (She starts
suddenly, goes to two wide closed doors at the back of the
stage and listens intently with bent head and finger on
lip.) All quiet! (She returns to the mirror and looks at
herself again, less critically and more passionately} If he
could see me now ! ( She laughs with a touch of scorn.)
See me in the Grand Duke s jewels ! Lorenzo ! and Sister
56
THE TOCSIN
Maddalena ! (She stands with parted lips, her bosom heav
ing, her eyes full of a vague terror.) She said, yet should
I come!
(Enter Nita.)
NITA. Pardon, my lady.
BIANCA (turning angrily). Who called you?
NITA. Pardon, my lady, but the messenger waits.
BIANCA. When I wish to see him I will ring.
NITA. Pardon, my lady, but if my lady knew how beautiful
she looked, she
BIANCA. Leave the room !
NITA. Pardon, my lady. ( Exit.)
( Bianca goes to the closed doors, listens a moment, stands
lost in thought, then slowly unclasps bracelet and necklace,
takes the coronet off and lays the jewels in the casket. Then
she rings. Nita enters.)
BIANCA (pointing to the casket). Give this to the messenger,
and he may tell his master Bianca delle Torre has jewels
and titles enough.
NITA. Ah, but the beautiful jewels! (She goes relucJantly
to the door.)
BIANCA (half rising) . Wait! (She seems to struggle with
herself a moment, then motions Nita away. Nita goes out.
Bianca sits motionless, her face resting on her hands, her
eyes dreamy, gazing off into space. Enter Lorenzo suddenly
with a drawn dagger. He moves silently, swiftly, looking
about as if for some one he fully expecJed to find. Bianca turns
and sees him and watches him in scornful silence. He catches
her eye. She looks apprehensively at the closed doors and
he rushes toward them triumphantly. Swiftly she glides
between and stands with her back against them, her arms
outstretched across the panels.)
57
THE TOCSIN
BIANCA. Whom are you searching for?
LORENZO. De Medici s messenger. Where is he ?
BIANCA. Not here.
LORENZO. Then it was de Medici himself?
BIANCA. Insolent!
LORENZO. I have a message for the Duke. Let me pass.
(Grasps her arm.}
BIANCA (with sudden pleading in her voice}. Lorenzo, there
is no man there; but I will be open with you, the
Duke s messenger was here
LORENZO. Let me pass. I would not be rough with you.
BIANCA. But I sent him away and his jewels with him.
(More pleadingly.} See, I am frank with you, Lorenzo
mio; the Grand Duke sent me jewels but I would not
have them.
LORENZO (with a bitter laugb}. Jewels by a white carrier-
dove, was it not so ? That white dove you befooled me
with the first day I ever met you ?
BIANCA. Lorenzo !
LORENZO. How a little point of steel can tame a woman !
BIANCA ( laying her hand on the hand which holds the dagger}.
Do I fear you ?
LORENZO. A brave woman by all the saints! (He starts
to throw open the doors, then turns away with a gesture of
bitter indifference.) No, hide whom you will behind your
doors. What is it to me! (He glances about in sudden
wonder, as if coming to himself, and hurries to the outer door.}
BIANCA (feverishly). Lorenzo, I have been thinking over
many things here in the moonlight. (She goes to the table.)
See. I was thinking of of Marianna (he turns with a
start), and I have set aside these pearls for her. (She
takes up a necklace.)
58
THE TOCSIN
LORENZO (full of anguish and amazement). Marianna! ( He
goes toward Bianca.)
BIANCA. Yes, for Marianna.
LORENZO (with sudden passion). Hush! Not that name
on your lips ! The saints , the Holy Virgin s name if
you will, but not that name on your painted lips. (He
tears the string of pearls from her and throws it underfoot.)
BIANCA. Lorenzo !
LORENZO. Those about Marianna s throat?
BIANCA ( with a strange meekness). They were my mother s.
I have never worn them since as a child she used to twine
them in my hair.
LORENZO. What, no lover s kisses on them ? But let them
lie. Marianna will not need them in Heaven.
BIANCA. In Heaven?
LORENZO. She went to Florence to find me is dead, it
may be ! ( Turns to the door.)
BIANCA (following him). Now if she were in Heaven!
LORENZO. Hush!
BIANCA. Now if she whom you will not let me name were
in Heaven ! (She lays her hand on his arm.)
LORENZO (looking at her in dull wonder). And once I
thought you a pearl.
BIANCA. If she were dead and if I said I loved you ?
LORENZO ( oblivious of Bianca and sinking again into his grief).
Followed me to Florence to die !
BIANCA. My God, did you not hear me say I loved you ?
LORENZO (unheeding). Houseless and alone!
BIANCA (barring the way). Lorenzo, it is true I mocked you
at first, played with you, tried to break your heart till
Heaven knows I broke my own ! (He tries to thrust her
aside; she bars the way and clings to him.) Have I not
59
THE TOCSIN
given up everything for you ? Offended the Grand Duke ?
Sent back his presents ? You do not believe I love you ?
LORENZO. I am weary of hearing you say you love me !
BIANCA. You will never hear me say it again.
LORENZO. Now to Florence, to Marianna! (He turns to
go. As he reaches the door Bianca, who has stood battling
with herself, cries out.)
BIANCA. Lorenzo ! (He fays no heed, andBianca rushes to the
two closed doors and throws them back, disclosing Marianna
swathed in white, lying as if asleep on a couch. The moon
light from two tall mullioned windows falls on her.)
Lorenzo ! Look.
LORENZO (turning). My God! Marianna!
BIANCA. Hush !
LORENZO. Dead and here !
BIANCA. The Abbot brought her fainting from the fields.
LORENZO. Not dead!
BIANCA. We calmed her with a sleeping draught.
LORENZO. How did she come here?
BIANCA. You remember the Abbot s page !
LORENZO. Who rode for my pardon! Where were my
eyes ! ( He steals nearer Marianna.)
BIANCA. Where were your eyes? In mine then.
LORENZO. I never loved you. (He approaches Marianna,
kneels down and buries his face in the hem of her robe)
BIANCA. No ! ( She presses her hands to her heart.)
LORENZO ( still on his knees and with a great fear in his voice).
Is it sleep or death!
SCENE II Courtyard of the castle. Behind the towers and
battlements the moon is rising. From the lighted chapel at
the rear comes the muffled peal of the organ and the solemn
60
THE TOCSIN
chanting of a midnight mass. At one side under a pent
house hangs a great bell. In the foreground at a stone table>
lit by torches and candles^ sit Count Salviati and Sir Walter
over their wine. The Abbot is facing moodily up and down.
Brother Sebastiano stands near.
COUNT SALVIATI. Very good, Sir Walter! (To the Abbot .)
But your Reverence does not laugh with us.
ABBOT. Pardon me. I am dull. I had bad dreams last
night.
SIR WALTER. The news from Florence?
ABBOT ( as if he had not heard and gazing moodily before him ).
Did you ever tempt a bird, a little singing bird, to your
knee and then while it perched there and let its heart
out, crush it so, with your hand, like {changing his
tone and reaching for a glass). The wine, gentlemen.
SIR WALTER. Was that your dream ?
COUNT SALVIATI. Do you dream on foot? I heard you
pacing your chamber half the night.
ABBOT ( lifting his glass and throwing back his head as if to
dispel heavy thoughts}. This cures bad dreams. Did you
ever hear, Count, that a cup of wine got me my famous
watch and my mitre ?
COUNT SALVIATI. All Florence has it, it was your Rever
ence s great sermon.
ABBOT. And what do you think was sponsor to the ser
mon ? Come, then, if my forty years may bore you with
tales of my youth. {A knocking is heard at the castle gate.
Brother Sebastiano goes and opens the little wicket}
SIR WALTER {placing a chair}. Do us the honor.
(The Abbot seats himself at the table.)
ABBOT. It was at the time of the Archbishop s visit to
61
THE TOCSIN
Florence. Our Prior I was at San Marco s, had just
finished my novitiate our good Prior was to preach
before him in the cathedral.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO (coming forward and plucking the
Abbot s sleeve). Pardon, Reverend Father, but
ABBOT (waving him of). To the devil with Florence! I
will hear no more of it, I tell you.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. Pardon, Reverend Father, not Flor
ence, but a woman.
ABBOT (waving him off). To the devil with the women!
(Brother Sebastiano reluctantly desists?) It was the cele
bration of high mass. The cathedral was packed, the
Archbishop on his throne, when the Prior was seized
with a dizziness. One of the brothers must take his
place and read the sermon. They hurried to the convent.
Chance chose me !
COUNT SALVIATI. Who calls Chance blind ! ( The knocking^
low but determined^ is heard again. Brother Sebastiano goes
to the gate.)
ABBOT. I had five minutes for preparation. "To your
beads," cried our almoner, he was a pious man; but
the cellarer gave me a nod and a beck and jingled his
keys. " I have something that will keep your knees from
shaking under you," he whispered.
(Brother Sebastiano > who has been standing at the wicket ,
again comes to the Abbot?)
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. She will not take no, Reverend
Father.
ABBOT (faying no heed to Brother Sebastiano, but continuing
with growing recklessness). I tasted, I drank, I was glori
ous. I hurried to the cathedral, I mounted the pulpit.
A sea of heads stretched before me. In a trice the wine,
62
THE TOCSIN
the devil, my guardian angel, who knows, conspired. I
flung aside my notes. Something struggled for a moment
on my lips and then leapt to speech. I was preaching,
not the Prior s sermon, but my own.
COUNT SALVIATI. Bravo !
SIR WALTER. Well done !
ABBOT (rising). Every eye was upon me. My voice rose.
The blood beat in my temples. There was a sob from
one of the women. It was like a spur. Another, I took
the bit in my teeth ! Women tore off their jewels and
cast them on the flags. The whole throng swayed toward
me. They were mine.
COUNT SALVIATI. Bravissimo!
SIR WALTER. And the Archbishop ?
ABBOT. Breathless like the rest. Afterward, in the sacristy,
holy man, he fell on my neck and gave me his blessing,
his famous watch, and the Abbey of San Raffaello.
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. O Reverend Father, she says she
must see you before she dies.
ABBOT. What are you dinning into my ears ? Who is she ?
What is she?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. I do not know, Reverend Father.
ABBOT. Is she fair?
BROTHER SEBASTIANO. Her face is covered, your Reverence.
ABBOT. Come, then, to put an end to your importunity.
Gentlemen, shall we unveil the beauty ?
COUNT SALVIATI. By all means.
ABBOT. Let her in. (He snatches up one of the torches,
laughing. Brother Sebastiano opens the gate and admits Sister
Maddalena.}
SIR WALTER (to Count Sahiati). By the Holy Mass
look!
63
THE TOCSIN
COUNT SALVIATI (starting). The gray Sister!
(Sister Maddalena, her hood drawn over her face, ad
vances toward the Abbot > and when within a few faces of
him kneels down with bowed head and her arms crossed on
her breast?)
ABBOT. What do you want of me ?
SISTER MADDALENA. Your blessing, Holy Father.
ABBOT (gaily). Your face, Holy Sister. (He throws back
her hood and flares the torch in her face, and as the light
falls on her fur e worn features he starts back sobered.) You
must be she they call St. Maddalena. (<fo Count Salviati
and Sir Walter.) I pray you, gentlemen, one moment.
I will join you. (Exeunt the Count and Sir Walter?)
(Harshly?) I have no blessing for you!
SISTER MADDALENA (clashing the hem of his robe). O Father,
let but the quickening grace of your benediction rest
upon me before I die. I go to Florence.
ABBOT. To Florence ! To hell !
SISTER MADDALENA. To Florence, to bliss eternal, won for
me, the greatest of God s sinners, through your words,
your prayers !
ABBOT (bitterly). My prayers! When have I prayed?
SISTER MADDALENA. Mock me not, Father.
ABBOT. Mock me not, Sister. When have I ever seen
you?
SISTER MADDALENA. O Father, I was of those in the cathe
dral, when the spirit of God descended upon you, and
you spoke with tongues of flame. ( Swept by her memories
of the past y she rises from her knees.) All about me the
great mass swayed and surged. Men sobbed, women fell
fainting on the cold stones. You scourged the vanities
of this world. I tore the jewels from my throat; you
6 4
THE TOCSIN
plucked the secret sin from out my bosom ; you spoke
to me, to me alone in all the throng ! The sword-thrusts
of your words slashed and rent my guilty breast. Then,
oh, with what angel voice you pleaded the passion of our
Lord pardon, redemption, peace! My heart melted in
me. " O Christ," I cried, " I come, I come ! " ( The Abbot
stands motionless. Sister Maddalena becomes more impas
sioned.} I left my home, my friends, my lovers ; I sought
refuge in the mountain fastnesses to mourn my sins. As
the sands of the sea, so were my lamentations, yet peace
came not. Then across my desolation swept the wail of
the sinning, the stricken, the forsaken. " As thou doest
it to the least of these," cried a voice, and I went again
among men. But now to nurse the suffering, plead with
the murderer, the harlot; mount the scaffold to clasp
the despised hands of those condemned to shameful
death. O Father, the tears of souls redeemed, their
prayers, their halleluiahs, the aspirations of their breaking
hearts turned through my weak aid to God, I come to
lay here at your feet, before I die. ( She casts herself on
her knees before the Abbot and kisses the hem of his gar
ment. He stands as though struck dumb; then with a sudden
cry, snatches his robe from her hands.)
ABBOT. "And the fool hath said in his heart, there is no
God." O my life, my barren life, burst like Aaron s rod
into this miracle of flower! O my God, whom I have
denied and mocked ! {A low, solemn chanting as of a dirge
is heard without. The Abbot turns impassioned to Sister
Maddalena.} I, the instrument of your salvation ? At my
feet your crown of tears, of prayers, of faith triumphant?
I, unworthy to loose the latchet of your shoes ! I, stained
with a thousand sins, false priest, untrue to every vow !
65
THE TOCSIN
Up, up from the dust where I should lie ! ( He takes her
hands and attempts to raise her.)
(The dirge sounds nearer. There enter two monks chant
ing and with flaring torches in their hands. Following them
face slowly and solemnly four more brothers bearing an of en
bier strewn with white flowers, on which, as though wrought
in alabaster, Marianna is lying. Lorenzo walks beside her.
As his eyes fall on the Abbot, he starts forward, half
frenzied.)
LORENZO. Her death be on your head, you who parted us.
ABBOT. Marianna ! Dead !
(The brothers set down the bier.)
LORENZO (perceiving Sister Maddalena and clutching her robe
in an agony of supplication). O Holy Sister, save her!
SISTER MADDALENA. Whither are you carrying her?
LORENZO. To the chapel, the wonder-working image of
Our Lady.
ABBOT ( bending horror-struck over Marianna and stretching
out his arms over her with a gesture of infinite tenderness}.
My work !
(Lorenzo turns from Sister Maddalena and seizing the
Abbot s arm thrusts him away.)
LORENZO (mercilessly). Not your hands on her; it were
profanation, you who lured me into the snares of the
courtezan.
( The Abbot staggers back, his hand on his heart, as if
struck by a mortal blow. Sister Maddalena touches Lorenzo s
arm in stern command.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Peace.
LORENZO (seizing her robe). But you, so pure, so holy,
you have power with Heaven. Your robes are not, like
his, a mockery of religion. She breathes yet. Wrestle
66
THE TOCSIN
for her with the angel of death. I broke her heart. Give
her back to me or one grave holds us both.
(Sister Maddalena lays her hands gently on Marianna s
wrists and forehead. She turns a moment with quivering
lips toward the Abbot, then bends over the sleeping girl.)
SISTER MADDALENA. It is sleep, not death.
LORENZO (half incredulous). Sleep?
SISTER MADDALENA. Even now she stirs. Let your face
be the first she sees.
( Lorenzo kneels down by the bier gazing into Marianna s
face. Sister Maddalena stands above her. For a moment
her eyes wander, with a look of anguish, toward the Abbot,
who stands bowed and motionless. Then with an evident
effort at control, she steadies her voice and speaks to Mari
anna in a tone of quiet command) Marianna ! ( The girl stirs
slightly.) Marianna! (Marianna 9 s eyelids flutter and she
looks up dreamily.) Marianna! (Marianna, supported by
Sister Maddalena, half rises on her elbow. The monks fall
on their knees, crossing themselves and murmuring, " A mira
cle ! " Lorenzo kneels breathless. As Marianna s eyes fall
on him, a wonderful smile dawns over her face. She draws
a deep sigh of joy.)
MARIANNA. I must be in Heaven, for your eyes say they
love me. (Lorenzo, speechless, clasps her hands.) I am too
happy to question you.
LORENZO. Forgive.
MARIANNA. I shall live now.
LORENZO. Forget.
MARIANNA. I have forgotten all.
(She sinks on his breast. He draws her from the bier.
They have eyes only for each other, and supporting her in his
arms, Lorenzo leads her off. The brothers follow with the
6 7
THE TOCSIN
bier. As the lovers pass him, the Abbot starts forward.
Marianna, her head pillowed on Lorenzo s breast, does not
see him. Lorenzo makes an involuntary gesture of aversion,
and drawing Marianna closer to him passes out. The Abbot
turns and leans heavily against the wall, his head buried in
his arms. Sister Maddalena sways, then stands gazing
yearningly at him. She half unconsciously makes a step
toward him and stretches out her arms.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Crushed, broken, desolate! (She
dashes her hand across her eyes, vainly striving for control.
The deep waters have passed over her.) Oh, these woman s
tears ! when I should have the tongue of men and of
angels ! Lord, not this cup, not this ! If ever Thy hand
maiden hath found favor in Thy sight, my life for his,
my soul, my salvation ! Lord, forget not it was he who
led me to Thee. O star of my life, dim, fallen ! ( The
Abbot turns. Their eyes meet. She starts toward him with
outstretched hands. He draws back.)
ABBOT. Did you not hear him say my touch was profana
tion ? (In spite of himself Sister Maddalena takes his hands.
He looks into her eyes. The harshness, the broken-hearted
despair in his voice give place to an almost awestruck
wonder.) What, still tears for me ? ( They gaze long and
solemnly into each other J s eyes, then with a voice still tremu
lous, but made vital by a great hope and perhaps with a
touch of a great joy, but half understood, Sister Maddalena
breaks the silence.)
SISTER MADDALENA. Count it for you too, sleep, not death
that has lain upon you, sleep, since that hour when
your real self woke and spoke. What you were in that
moment, be again.
ABBOT. Can these bones live?
68
THE TOCSIN
SISTER MADDALENA (with growing calm and conviftion).
"Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I
will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live."
(As she speaks, the Abbot seems for an instant to kindle
with the white heat of her passionate faith ; then a horror ,
as of a great darkness, sweeps over his features. He snatches
away his hands with a bitter cry of despair.}
ABBOT. Too late!
SISTER MADDALENA (in an agony of appeal). Not too
late ! O Lord, quicken Thou my feeble woman s force.
Through the bitterness of these tears the power goes
from me. ( Suddenly she draws herself up to her full height,
and with a superb gesture of command towers above him.)
No time now for despair! Your city; your people!
ABBOT (echoing her cry in a tone of piercing self-accusation).
My city, my people left to perish! (His eyes fall on the
great bell hanging under the penthouse. He hurries toward
it and seizes the rope. The bell peals out tumultuously. As
the sound swells, men-at-arms and monks throng out into the
courtyard. The doors of the chapel swing back and the
officiating priest in his robes, followed by deacons and altar-
boys with cross and censer, file out. They group themselves,
silent and wondering, the monks nearest the Abbot. Bianca
appears in the arch of the chapel door. The Abbot lets fall
the rope and turns to the brothers, his arms outstretched.)
Not I but Florence summons you, Florence from her
hundred mouths of sin, famine, pestilence, despair. Who
am I that should dare call you back, I who led you
astray ? Blind leader of the blind ! But through this
angel of the Lord rings a cry from the death-stricken
city, its desert palaces, its reeking hovels. Shall she
return to minister alone? Back, back all of us, to tend
6 9
THE TOCSIN
the suffering, hold the sacred cross before dying eyes,
bury the unhallowed dead! (Horror-struck, the monks
murmur and draw away.) What, you shrink back? (Sis
ter Maddalena steps to the Abbot s side. Bianca watches,
breathless, her hands clasped on her breast. The Abbot hur
ries on aflame.) You hug to your craven breasts the hid
eous sin I helped you to ? You love this little life of the
hour too well to risk it for a glorious immortality ? O
God, be mine the penalty, mine the retribution, base
shepherd of a coward flock ! (Bianca falters a moment,
then hurries forward and throws herself at Sister Madda
lena *s feet. The sister raises her tenderly. The Abbot takes
Bianca y s hand silently, and seeks inspiration once more at
the triumphant eyes of Sister Maddalena; then leaving the
women and seizing a cross from one of the deacons holds it
aloft. An irresistible power seems to have fallen upon him.
With a common impulse the brothers fall on their knees. The
Abbot looks across the white-robed mass and his voice rings
out like a clarion.) I shall go and you shall follow ! I will
wrestle for you with the powers of darkness ! I will save
your souls alive ! I will pluck them back from the gates
of hell, whither I had led them ! Ye are Christ s, ye shall
be Christ s ! Back, back to your deserted posts, to glori
ous pain, to death, to life everlasting ! ( The monks hesi
tate a moment, falter, sway as though swept by a wind, then
leap to their feet and rush forward with a great cry.)
MONKS. To Florence! To Florence!
ABBOT. To Florence ! ( He holds the cross aloft. He is trans
figured with joy. The two women follow, and all sweep
after him, crying, " To Florence ! Florence ! " )
THE END.
HISTORICAL REFERENCES
A LAW FORBIDDING ARMS
Sixtus had forbidden short arms to be worn on pain of death, yet one
day from Prince Farnese s pocket tumbled a small pistol at the very feet of
the pontiff. He was ordered to be hung the same night at the first hour.
Ferdinand, then on good terms with Cardinal Farnese, determined to save
his kinsman, and found means to retard every clock in Rome one full hour,
all except the pontiff s. At the moment appointed for the execution he re
paired to the Vatican and demanded mercy for his friend. Sixtus, seeing
that the time was passed and, as he thought, the execution over, most gra
ciously accorded it ; whereupon Ferdinand repaired to the Castle of St. Angelo
and carried off the prince in triumph. NAPIER, Florentine History, Vol. V.
CHARACTER OF POPE SIXTUS V.
Peretti s character is thus described in a letter of the day addressed to the
Grand Duke of Florence by his agent, Belisario Vinti :
" The Pope is a grave and patient person who knows how to dissemble
in proper time and place, but prudently and without fraud or malice. As an
enemy of falsehood and artifice he loves men of probity. He is literary,
capable of state affairs, intelligent and experienced, is resolved to be pope
himself. * NAPIER, Florentine History, Vol. V.
BIANCA CAPPELLO
The daughter of Bartolommeo Cappello, a Venetian noble, wife of an
obscure clerk, Piero Buonaventuri, with whom she eloped and fled to Flor
ence, Bianca became first the mistress and afterward the duchess of Francesco
de Medici. Her first husband was murdered, according to current report,
at the instigation of the Grand Duke. Napier says that on the occasion of
her marriage to de* Medici "she suddenly became the pride of her family,
the glory of her order, the hope of her country, and was immediately adopted
71
HISTORICAL REFERENCES
by public decree as the true and particular daughter of the republic in con
sequence of those most singular and most excellent qualities which rendered
her worthy of the most splendid fortune/ * * * But the splendour of
Venetian rejoicing was exceeded by that of Florence; jousts, balls, feasts,
tournaments, bull-fights, the chace of wild beasts and every sort of pastime
filled the city and adjacent hills and kept the Val-d Arno alive with their
echoes. * * * The whole expense of this marriage to the Grand Duke
was estimated at 300,000 ducats, a sum equal to about one year s ordinary
revenue of the ancient republic in its most glorious days."
PESTILENCE
This pestilence attacked Florence in July and killed many of the poorer
classes who were suffering from two successive years of scarcity which all the
efforts of the office of Abundance could hardly remedy. The people were,
moreover, out of humour with the government, unhappy and angry at being
rifled to meet the expenses of their sovereign s marriage, just at a moment
when failing harvests, sickness and general misery required more than usual
leniency. NAPIER, Florentine History, Vol. V.
72
THIS EDITION OF THE TOCSIN, A DRAMA OF
THE RENAISSANCE BY ESTHER BROWN TIFFANY
CONSISTS OF THREE HUNDRED y FIFTY COPIES
PRINTED FOR PAUL ELDER & COMPANY BY THE
TOMOYE PRESS AT SAN FRANCISCO, UNDER THE
DIRECTION OF J. H. NASH, IN THE MONTH OF
OCTOBER fcf YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED & NINE
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
LIBRARY
Due two weeks after date.
30m-7, 12
YC 16318
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
