Text: John C. Miller, ed., “Entry 121: ‘Poe's Politian,’ by John H. Ingram, November 1875,” Poe's Helen Remembers (1979), pp. 357-364 (This material is protected by copyright)

[page 357, continued:]

121. “Poe's Politian,” by John H. Ingram, Southern Magazine, 17 (Nov. 1875), 588-94

THAT EDGAR POE’S youthful tragedy 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 [page 358:] Hughes, it is true, when he translated Politan into French, spoke of it as a tragedy “où vivent des caractèes 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 tous les Brands 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 de 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 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.”(1) And into his tragedy of Politian, a comparison with Greyslaer and Gilmore Simms’ 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 But it was not until we obtained possession of the poet's original draft of the drama, a draft containing much unpublished matter, that we were enabled to demonstrate the truth of our theory. The fragment known as “Scenes from Politian: an Unpublished Drama,” was first printed in 1845, in a volume dedicated to Mrs.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 personae follows, and is interesting from the fact that it not only introduces four new characters, but because it also affords descriptions of those already known but, hitherto, undescribed: thus, Lalage is recorded 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 known are an almost literal transcript of this, the evidently first rough draft; the erasures are few, and the alterations still fewer. [page 359:]

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 this speaker, the duke pardons his son, but 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, and leave 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 showing him some valuable jewels, 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 (also 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 the conversation contrives to allude to the duke's keeping Lalage in seclusion. -He hums — [page 360:]

This insulting allusion rouses even Castiglione's despicable spirit, and he exclaims

“Exceeding fine!” responds San Ozzo:

San Ozzo's philosophy is too potent for Castiglione's repentance, 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 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 storm which this exclamation [page 361:] threatens to bring down is 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. Poe's marginal pencil-notes would seem to indicate that he intended this 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 had now obtained all that her mistress had to give, takes an opportunity of insulting and leaving her. Thereafter a monk enters and witnesses Lalage register a mental vow — a vow, we comprehand [[comprehend]], of vengeance. “Behold,” she cries, drawing a cross handled dagger and raising it on high —

To which the monk responds —

— 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 a very different kind of man 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 they are still discoursing of the strange Englishman, Politian himself and his friend Baldazzar enter. Castiglione wishes to introduce the two foreign nobles to his father, but Politian haughtily interrupts him and retires, leaving his friend to account for his abrupt departure, which Bal-dazzar 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 humors. Monsieur Hughes, in his translation, 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 362:]

“Give not thy soul to dreams,” advises Baldazzar, and 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 exclaims, “of the hollow and high sounding vanities of the populous earth.” He next intimates that he shall need Baldazzar'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!”(2) Baldazzar agains 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.” Persuaded against his will, Politian is reluctantly 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 in his own behalf: [page 363:]

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 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 Bal-dazzar, 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 that Politian again met Castiglione, and —

is missing, as are also the first thirty-seven lines of the succeeding scene between San Ozzo and the foolish Ugo. The latter, apparently dejected by Jacinta's scornful treatment of him, attempts to commit, 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. Yet, as to how the drama was to have been 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 deeming that the poet intended Politian to terminate thus: Lalage leaves the palace in order to keep her appointment with the Earl. In the meantime Castiglione, absenting himself from the wedding 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 now loves him. She then takes poison, and Politian stabs himself. With his triumphant defiance of death to separate them, the tragedy may be supposed to end.

[[Footnotes]]

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 358:]

1. Works of Edgar A. Poe, vol. iv, p. 478. Edinburgh, 1875. [[Note: the title is not italicized in the original printing in the Southern Magazine, and in reproducing the text, Miller has honored that choice. — JAS]]

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 362:]

2. It is a stanza from a song by Sir Thomas Wyat. — Ed. S.M.