Text: John H. Ingram, “Poe's ‘Politian’,” Southern Magazine (Baltimore, MD), ns. vol. X, no. 5, November 1875, pp. 588-594

[page 588, continued:]

THAT Edgar Poe's youthful tragedy of Politian has attracted less attention than his other poetical works, is not strange: unequal in execution, a fragment and a mystery, the public naturally passed it by. Monsieur Hughes, it is true, when he translated Politian into French, spoke of it as a tragedy “où vivent des caractères vraiment humains,” but he, so far as we know, is the only person who, as yet, has had a good word to say for it. The same writer has also more than once drawn attention to the not unnoteworthy fact that the hero of the play is, to some extent, and in some of his mental idiosyncrasies, a reflex of the author himself. “Comme tons les grands ecrivains” says Monsieur Hughes, “Edgar Poe prête aux personnages qu’il met en scène ses sensations et ses sentiments personnels.” Certain it is that whatever merit the drama may possess has been depreciated in consequence of its fragmentary nature and inexplicable plot, but it is hoped that a fuller share of interest than it has hitherto attracted will now be obtained for it by our supplying some of the missing links of the story, and furnishing le mot l’énigme.

Politian is based upon a tragedy of real life, and upon a tragedy that was enacted upon American soil. A clue to the story was first discovered in Poe's critique on Mr. Hoffmann's Greyslaer, a romance, the poet remarks, “based on the well-known murder of Sharp, the solicitor-general of Kentucky, by Beauchampe. .... The real events were more impressive than are the fictitious ones,” adds Poe; and [page 589:] he continues, “the facts of this remarkable tragedy, as arranged by actual circumstance, would put to shame the skill of the most consummate artist. Nothing was left to the novelist but the amplification of character. ... the incidents might be better woven into a tragedy.”* And into his tragedy of Politian, a comparison with Greyslaer and Gilmore Simm's fine romance of Beauchampe, convinced us Poe had woven the incidents. But it was not until we obtained possession of the poet's original draft of the drama, a draft containing much unpublished matter, that we were enabled to demonstrate the truth of our theory. The fragment known as “Scenes from Politian: an unpublished Drama,” was first published in 1845, in a volume dedicated to Mrs. Browning, but the manuscript in our possession appears to have been written as long ago as 1831. It is entitled “ Politian: a Tragedy. Scene, Rome in the —— century.” A list of the dramatis personæ follows, and is interesting not only from the fact that it introduces four new characters, but also because it describes Lalage as “an orphan, and the ward of Di Broglio;” Politian as “a young and noble Roman,” and Baldazzar as “his friend.” The subsequent transformation of the two latter personages into “Earl of Leicester” and “Duke of Surrey” was in no way necessary to, and certainly did not increase, the vraisemblance of the drama. The printed extracts as now known are an almost literal transcript of this, the evidently first rough draft; the erasures are few and the alterations still fewer.

The first act opens (with an unpublished scene) in the Palazzo of the Duke di Broglio, in an apartment strewed with the débris of a protracted revel. Two of the duke's servants, Benito and Ugo — the latter intoxicated — enter, and being joined by Rupert, a third servant, proceed, after the well-known method of theatrical domestics, to introduce the story by talking over the affairs of their employer's family. Whilst Ugo contents himself with seeking out some unemptied wine-bottles, the other two discuss the sad alteration in their master's son, Count Castiglione, who was —

The most reprehensible act ascribed to him is his base treatment of the beautiful lady Lalage. Rupert asserts —

Benito acquiesces, deeming —

“They say,” continues the speaker, “the Duke pardons his son, but [page 590:] is most wroth with the poor victim of his crime, who remains secluded in her chamber, lost to the world and hope. The domestics then introduce the topic of Castiglione's approaching nuptials with his cousin Alessandra, who was “the bosom friend of the fair lady Lalage ere this mischance.” Ugo now interrupting the dialogue, Benito and Rupert retire to bed, leaving the drunkard in possession of the stage. Just as he is about to depart, Jacinta, the serving-maid of Lalage, and whom Ugo is enamored of, enters. Alternately she excites the jealousy and cupidity of her innamorato by displaying some jewels of great value to him, and leading him to suppose that they had been presented to her by his master, Count Castiglione. Ultimately she sets his mind at rest by telling him that the jewels had been given to her by her mistress Lalage, “as a free gift and for a marriage present.” The exit of this choice couple concludes Scene I.

The second (an unpublished) scene, introduces Castiglione, and his evil genius, the Count San Ozzo, in the dressing-room of the former. San Ozzo endeavors by taunts and ridicule to cure Castiglione of his sentimental fit, and, in the course of conversation contrives to allude to the Duke's keeping Lalage in seclusion. He hums —

This insulting allusion is too much, even for the despicable spirit of Castiglione, and he exclaims —

“Exceeding fine!” responds San Ozzo:

San Ozzo's philosophy is too potent for Castiglione, and he strives to solace himself with the reflection that these mischances are of frequent occurrence, and that it would never do for him to bring disgrace upon “Di Broglio's haughty and time-honored line,” by wedding the discarded Lalage. With this comforting reflection, he dismisses the subject, and allows himself to be amused by a [page 591:] practical joke of his boon companion, San Ozzo, and to the account of which sorry jest the remainder of the lengthy scene is devoted.

“A Hall in the Palace” includes the action of the third scene. It is, with some trifling alterations, that now published as the first in the extracts. It introduces Alessandra and Castiglione engaged in conversation: the latter appears inattentive — distrait — whilst his betrothed is already seen assuming the authority of a wife to reprimand and reprove. Mentally contrasting his former with his present love, Castiglione unwittingly exclaims, “Sweet, gentle Lalage!” The impending storm is, however, averted by the timely entrance of the Duke di Broglio, who comes to announce an anticipated visit to Rome of Politian, Earl of Leicester.

The second Act introduces Lalage, who is seen sitting at an open window which overlooks the palace garden; she is attended by the pert Jacinta. This scene, Poe's marginal pencil-notes would indicate, was intended for the first of the published scenes, but subsequently he wisely altered it to the second. The printed version is accessible to every one; it is therefore needless to recapitulate more of it than is absolutely necessary for threading the links of the story together. This scene portrays how the ungrateful serving-maid, deeming that she has now obtained all that her mistress had to give, takes occasion of insulting and leaving her. Thereafter a monk enters, and witnesses Lalage register a mental vow, a vow of vengeance. “Behold,” she cries, drawing a cross handled dagger and raising it on high —

— exclaims Lalage.

The next, another unpublished scene, brings Di Broglio and his son before us again. Their conversation is about Politian, whom Castiglione has just met, and whom he acknowledges to be very different from what he had expected. “ I always thought the Earl a gloomy man,” he remarks, but instead of that “ I have found him full of such humor — such wit — such whim — such flashes of wild merriment.” Whilst still discoursing of the strange Englishman, Politian himself, and his friend Baldazzar, enter. Castiglione endeavors to introduce the two nobles to his father, but Politian haughtily stops his speech and retires, leaving his friend to apologize for his strange behavior, which Baldazzar does, ascribing it to sudden illness. In the scene which follows, and which is published as the third in the extracts, Baldazzar is found striving to arouse Politian from his strange humours. In his translation, Monsieur Hughes draws attention to the fact that Politian's words might well stand for Poe's own response to advising friends: “Command me, sir!” he says: [page 592:]

“Give not thy soul to dreams,” advises Baldazzar, and he bids him seek befitting occupation in the court or camp. “Speak no more to me,” responds Politian, “of thy camps and courts. I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death!” he adds, “of the hollow and high-sounding vanities of the populous earth!” Politian then intimates that he shall need his friend's aid in a hostile encounter, although, “Alas!” cries he,

Their dialogue is broken in upon by a lady's voice, with “sorrow in the tone,” singing behind a lattice an English song,* whose burden is “Say nay-say nay!” Baldazzar entreats his friend to cast his “fancies to the wind,” and to descend to the hall where he is awaited, bidding him remember that his “bearing lately savored much of rudeness unto the Duke.” “I do remember!” ejaculates Politian, and is about to descend, when he is arrested by the voice of the unseen singer repeating the refrain, “Say nay-say nay!” and he finds the words so in unison with his own desires that he stays, sending an apology to the Duke for his absence.

With the next scene the third Act of the manuscript play commences. Lalage and Politian are seen together in the palace gardens. In this, the finest scene of the tragedy, Politian avows his passionate love for the deserted Lalage. “Even for thy woes I love thee,” he avers, and when Lalage responds:

Politian replies in words so intensely Poësque that one might easily fancy the poet speaking on his own behalf:

Lalage now intimates that there is “a land new found,” “by one of Genoa,”the air of which” to breathe is happiness now, and will be Freedom hereafter;” but to Politian's passionate appeal to her to fly thither with him, she answers: “A deed is to be done — Castiglione lives!” “And he shall die!” exclaims Politian, as he departs.

The next (another unpublished scene) and is occupied by preparations for the wedding of Alessandra and Castiglione, and by Jacinta's harsh treatment of Ugo. It does not do much to advance the action of the drama, which is continued more actively, however, in the next — known in the published “scenes” as the fifth. Politian enters, and is followed by Baldazzar, who informs him that Castiglione, knowing no cause of quarrel with the Earl, refuses to accept his cartel. Seeing the Count himself approaching, Politian contrives to get rid of his friend, and awaits Castiglione alone. The Count is about to suggest that some misunderstanding has arisen, but Politian interrupts him with the words, “Draw, villain, and prate no more!” Whereupon Castiglione draws his sword, but when Politian cries:

lets his weapon fall, and refuses to fight. Despite all the menaces of the Earl, Castiglione persists in his refusal to fight against so sacred a cause, and Politian departs with the words:

Most lucklessly, a long hiatus now occurs in the manuscript. The whole of the first scene of the fourth Act, in which we learn Politian again met Castiglione, and —

is missing, as are also the first thirty-seven lines of the following scene between San Ozzo and the foolish Ugo, who, apparently dejected by Jacinta's scornful treatment of him, attempts and fancies he has succeeded in committing suicide! San Ozzo, for purposes of his own, humors Ugo's insane idea, remarking in an aside:

He humors the man to the full bent of his fancy, and dismisses him to inform his master Castiglione that he, Ugo, is dead!

The third scene discovers Politian standing alone in the moonlit Coliseum waiting for Lalage. And with a characteristic soliloquy our manuscript ends. As to how the drama was to be brought to a conclusion, though a puzzling question, is by no means beyond all conjecture. With our knowledge of the Beauchampe tragedy to guide us, we shall not, probably, be far wrong in imagining Politian to have been intended by Poe to terminate thus: Lalage leaves the palace to keep her appointment with the Earl of Leicester; and in the meantime Castiglione, absenting himself from the wedding [page 594:] festivities in order, in a fit of remorse, to seek Lalage and obtain her forgiveness, sees her unattended leaving the palace. He follows her to the Coliseum, and beholds her clasped in the arms of Politian. He discovers himself and taunts the Earl, who, regardless of the fact that Castiglione is unarmed, draws his sword and plunges it into the Count's bosom. Castiglione dies, and Politian is arrested and condemned to death. Lalage visits him in his cell and acknowledges that she loves him. She takes poison and Politian stabs himself, so that they may die together, and with his triumphant defiance of Death to separate them, the tragedy may be supposed to end.

J. H. INGRAM.

[[Footnotes]]

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 590:]

*Works of Edgar A. Poe, vol. iv. p. 478. Edinburgh, 1875.

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 592:]

*It is a stanza from a song by Sir Thomas Wyat. — ED. S. M.