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9. Such portions of “Politian” as are known to the public first saw thelight of publicity in the “Southern Literary Messenger” for December,1835, and January, 1836, being styled “Scenes from Politian: anunpublished drama.” These scenes were included, unaltered, in the 1845collection of Poems, by Poe. The larger portion of the original draftsubsequently became the property of the present editor, but it is notconsidered just to the poet’s memory to publish it. The work is a hastyand unrevised production of its author’s earlier days of literary labor;and, beyond the scenes already known, scarcely calculated to enhance hisreputation. As a specimen, however, of the parts unpublished, thefollowing fragment from the first scene of Act II. may be offered. TheDuke, it should be premised, is uncle to Alessandra, and father ofCastiglione her betrothed. Duke. Why do you laugh?Castiglione. IndeedI hardly know myself. Stay! Was it notOn yesterday we were speaking of the Earl?Of the Earl Politian? Yes! it was yesterday.Alessandra, you and 1, you must remember!We were walking in the garden.Duke, Perfectly.I do remember it-what of it-what then?Cas. O nothing-nothing at all.Duke. Nothing at all!It is most singular that you should laugh‘At nothing at all!Cas. Most singular-singular!Duke. Look you, Castiglione, be so kindAs tell me, sir, at once what ’tis you mean.What are you talking of?Cas. Was it not so?We differed in opinion touching him.Duke. Him!—Whom?Cas. Why, sir, the Earl Politian.Duke. The Earl of Leicester! Yes!—is it he you mean?We differed, indeed. If I now recollectThe words you used were that the Earl you knewWas neither learned nor mirthful.Cas. Ha! ha!—now did I?Duke. That did you, sir, and well I knew at the timeYou were wrong, it being not the characterOf the Earl-whom all the world allows to beA most hilarious man. Be not, my son,Too positive again.Cas. ’Tis singular!Most singular! I could not think it possibleSo little time could so much alter one!To say the truth about an hour ago,As I was walking with the Count San Ozzo,All arm in arm, we met this very manThe Earl-he, with his friend Baldazzar,Having just arrived in Rome. Hal ha! he is altered!Such an account he gave me of his journey!’Twould have made you die with laughter-such tales he toldOf his caprices and his merry freaksAlong the road-such oddity-such humor—Such wit-such whim-such flashes of wild merrimentSet off too in such full relief by the graveDemeanor of his friend-who, to speak the truth,Was gravity itself—Duke. Did I not tell you?Cas. You did-and yet ’tis strange! but true as strange,How much I was mistaken! I always thoughtThe Earl a gloomy man.Duke. So, so, you see! Be not too positive. Whom have we here?It can not be the Earl?Cas. The Earl! Oh, no! ’Tis not the Earl-but yet it is-and leaningUpon his friend Baldazzar. AM welcome, sir!(Enter Politian and Baldazzar.)My lord, a second welcome let me give youTo Rome-his Grace the Duke of Broglio.Father! this is the Earl Politian, EarlOf Leicester in Great Britain. [Politian bows haughtily.]That, his friendBaldazzar, Duke of Surrey. The Earl has letters,So please you, for Your Grace.Duke. Hal ha! Most welcomeTo Rome and to our palace, Earl Politian!And you, most noble Duke! I am glad to see you!I knew your father well, my Lord Politian.Castiglione! call your cousin hither,And let me make the noble Earl acquaintedWith your betrothed. You come, sir, at a timeMost seasonable. The wedding—Politian. Touching those letters, sir,Your son made mention of—your son, is he not?Touching those letters, sir, I wot not of them.If such there be, my friend Baldazzar here—Baldazzar! ah!—my friend Baldazzar hereWill hand them to Your Grace. I would retire.Duke. Retire!—So soon?Came What ho! Benito! Rupert!His lordship’s chambers-show his lordship to them!His lordship is unwell. (Enter Benito.)Ben. This way, my lord! (Exit, followed by Politian.)Duke. Retire! Unwell!Bal. So please you, sir. I fear me’Tis as you say—his lordship is unwell.The damp air of the evening-the fatigueOf a long journey—the—indeed I had betterFollow his lordship. He must be unwell.I will return anon.Duke. Return anon!Now this is very strange! Castiglione!This way, my son, I wish to speak with thee.You surely were mistaken in what you saidOf the Earl, mirthful, indeed!—which of us saidPolitian was a melancholy man? (Exeunt.)
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