SOPHY. But diamonds of such value! Why not rather give some that are
less precious? Truly, my lady, it is an unpardonable act.

LADY MILFORD. Foolish girl! For this deed more brilliants and pearls
will flow for me in one moment than kings ever wore in their richest
diadems! Ay, and infinitely more beautiful!

SERVANT enters. Major von Walter!

SOPHY (running hastily to the help of LADY MILFORD, who seems fainting).
Heavens, my lady, you change color!

LADY MILFORD. The first man who ever made me tremble. (To the SERVANT.)
I am not well--but stay--what said the major?--how? O Sophy! I look
sadly ill, do I not?

SOPHY. I entreat you, my lady, compose yourself.

SERVANT. Is it your ladyship's wish that I should deny you to the major?

LADY MILFORD (hesitating). Tell him--I shall be happy to see him. (Exit
SERVANT.) What shall I say to him, Sophy? how shall I receive him? I
will be silent--alas! I fear he will despise my weakness. He will--ah,
me! what sad forebodings oppress my heart! You are going Sophy! stay,
yet--no, no--he comes--yes, stay, stay with me----

SOPHY. Collect yourself, my lady, the major----



SCENE III.--FERDINAND VON WALTER. The former.

FERDINAND (with a slight bow). I hope I do not interrupt your ladyship?

LADY MILFORD (with visible emotion). Not at all, baron--not in the
least.

FERDINAND. I wait on your ladyship, at the command of my father.

LADY MILFORD. Therein I am his debtor.

FERDINAND. And I am charged to announce to you that our marriage is
determined on. Thus far I fulfil the commission of my father.

LADY MILFORD (changing color and trembling). And not of your own heart?

FERDINAND. Ministers and panders have no concern with hearts.

LADY MILFORD (almost speechless with emotion). And you yourself--have
you nothing to add?

FERDINAND (looking at SOPHY). Much! my lady, much!

LADY MILFORD (motions to SOPHY to withdraw). May I beg you to take a
seat by my side?

FERDINAND. I will be brief, lady.

LADY MILFORD. Well!

FERDINAND. I am a man of honor!

LADY MILFORD. Whose worth I know how to appreciate.

FERDINAND. I am of noble birth!

LADY MILFORD. Noble as any in the land!

FERDINAND. A soldier!

LADY MILFORD (in a soft, affectionate manner). Thus far you have only
enumerated advantages which you share in common with many others. Why
are you so silent regarding those noble qualities which are peculiarly
your own?

FERDINAND (coldly). Here they would be out of place.

LADY MILFORD (with increasing agitation). In what light am I to
understand this prelude?

FERDINAND (slowly, and with emphasis). As the protest of the voice of
honor--should you think proper to enforce the possession of my hand!

LADY MILFORD (starting with indignation). Major von Walter! What
language is this?

FERDINAND (calmly). The language of my heart--of my unspotted name--and
of this true sword.

LADY MILFORD. Your sword was given to you by the prince.

FERDINAND. 'Twas the state which gave it, by the hands of the prince.
God bestowed on me an honest heart. My nobility is derived from a line
of ancestry extending through centuries.

LADY MILFORD. But the authority of the prince----

FERDINAND (with warmth). Can he subvert the laws of humanity, or stamp
glory on our actions as easily as he stamps value on the coin of his
realm? He himself is not raised above the laws of honor, although he may
stifle its whispers with gold--and shroud his infamy in robes of ermine!
But enough of this, lady!--it is too late now to talk of blasted
prospects--or of the desecration of ancestry--or of that nice sense of
honor--girded on with my sword--or of the world's opinion. All these I
am ready to trample under foot as soon as you have proved to me that the
reward is not inferior to the sacrifice.

LADY MILFORD (in extreme distress turning away). Major! I have not
deserved this!

FERDINAND (taking her hand). Pardon me, lady--we are without witnesses.
The circumstance which brings us together to-day--and only to-day--
justifies me, nay, compels me, to reveal to you my most secret feelings.
I cannot comprehend, lady, how a being gifted with so much beauty and
spirit--qualities which a man cannot fail to admire--could throw herself
away on a prince incapable of valuing aught beyond her mere person--and
yet not feel some visitings of shame, when she steps forth to offer her
heart to a man of honor!

LADY MILFORD (looking at him with an air of pride). Say on, sir, without
reserve.

FERDINAND. You call yourself an Englishwoman--pardon me, lady, I can
hardly believe you. The free-born daughter of the freest people under
heaven--a people too proud to imitate even foreign virtues--would surely
never have sold herself to foreign vices! It is not possible, lady, that
you should be a native of Britain, unless indeed your heart be as much
below as the sons of Britannia vaunt theirs to be above all others!

LADY MILFORD. Have you done, sir?

FERDINAND. Womanly vanity--passions--temperament--a natural appetite for
pleasure--all these might, perhaps, be pleaded in extenuation--for virtue
often survives honor--and many who once trod the paths of infamy have
subsequently reconciled themselves to society by the performance of noble
deeds, and have thus thrown a halo of glory round their evil doings--but
if this were so, whence comes the monstrous extortion that now oppresses
the people with a weight never before known? This I would ask in the
name of my fatherland--and now, lady, I have done!

LADY MILFORD (with gentleness and dignity). This is the first time,
Baron von Walter, that words such as these have been addressed to me--and
you are the only man to whom I would in return have vouchsafed an answer.
Your rejection of my hand commands my esteem. Your invectives against my
heart have my full forgiveness, for I will not believe you sincere, since
he who dares hold such language to a woman, that could ruin him in an
instant--must either believe that she possesses a great and noble heart--
or must be the most desperate of madmen. That you ascribe the misery of
this land to me may He forgive, before whose throne you, and I, and the
prince shall one day meet! But, as in my person you have insulted the
daughter of Britain, so in vindication of my country's honor you must
hear my exculpation.

FERDINAND (leaning on his sword). Lady, I listen with interest.

LADY MILFORD. Hear, then, that which I have never yet breathed to
mortal, and which none but yourself will ever learn from my lips. I am
not the low adventurer you suppose me, sir! Nay! did I listen to the
voice of pride, I might even boast myself to be of royal birth; I am
descended from the unhappy Thomas Norfolk, who paid the penalty of his
adherence to the cause of Mary, Queen of Scots, by a bloody death on the
scaffold. My father, who, as royal chamberlain, had once enjoyed his
sovereign's confidence, was accused of maintaining treasonable relations
with France, and was condemned and executed by a decree of the Parliament
of Great Britain. Our estates were confiscated, and our family banished
from their native soil. My mother died on the day of my father's
execution, and I--then a girl of fourteen--fled to Germany with one
faithful attendant. A casket of jewels, and this crucifix, placed in my
bosom by my dying mother, were all my fortune!

   [FERDINAND, absorbed in thought, surveys LADY MILFORD with looks of
   compassion and sympathy.

LADY MILFORD (continuing with increased emotion). Without a name--
without protection or property--a foreigner and an orphan, I reached
Hamburg. I had learnt nothing but a little French, and to run my fingers
over the embroidery frame, or the keys of my harpsichord. But, though I
was ignorant of all useful arts, I had learnt full well to feast off gold
and silver, to sleep beneath silken hangings, to bid attendant pages obey
my voice, and to listen to the honeyed words of flattery and adulation.
Six years passed away in sorrow and in sadness--the remnant of my scanty
means was fast melting away--my old and faithful nurse was no more--and--
and then it was that fate brought your sovereign to Hamburg. I was
walking beside the shores of the Elbe, wondering, as I gazed on its
waters, whether they or my sorrows were the deeper, when the duke crossed
my path. He followed me, traced me to my humble abode, and, casting
himself at my feet, vowed that he loved me. (She pauses, and, after
struggling with her emotion, continues in a voice choked by tears.) All
the images of my happy childhood were revived in hues of delusive
brightness--while the future lowered before me black as the grave. My
heart panted for communion with another--and I sank into the arms opened
to receive me! (Turning away.) And now you condemn me!

FERDINAND (greatly agitated, follows her and leads her back). Lady!
heavens! what do I hear! What have I done? The guilt of my conduct is
unveiled in all its deformity! It is impossible you should forgive me.

LADY MILFORD (endeavoring to overcome her emotion). Hear me on! The
prince, it is true, overcame my unprotected youth, but the blood of the
Howards still glowed within my veins, and never ceased to reproach me;
that I, the descendant of royal ancestors, should stoop to be a prince's
paramour! Pride and destiny still contended in my bosom, when the duke
brought me hither, where scenes the most revolting burst upon my sight!
The voluptuousness of the great is an insatiable hyena--the craving of
whose appetite demands perpetual victims. Fearfully had it laid this
country waste separating bridegroom and bride--and tearing asunder even
the holy bonds of marriage. Here it had destroyed the tranquil happiness
of a whole family--there the blighting pest had seized on a young and
inexperienced heart, and expiring victims called down bitter imprecations
on the heads of the undoers. It was then that I stepped forth between
the lamb and the tiger, and, in a moment of dalliance, extorted from the
duke his royal promise that this revolting licentiousness should cease.

FERDINAND (pacing the room in violent agitation). No more, lady! No
more!

LADY MILFORD. This gloomy period was succeeded by one still more gloomy.
The court swarmed with French and Italian adventurers--the royal sceptre
became the plaything of Parisian harlots, and the people writhed and bled
beneath their capricious rule. Each had her day. I saw them sink before
me, one by one, for I was the most skilful coquette of all! It was then
that I seized and wielded the tyrant's sceptre whilst he slumbered
voluptuously in my embrace--then, Walter, thy country, for the first
time, felt the hand of humanity, and reposed in confidence on my bosom.
(A pause, during which she gazes upon him with tenderness.) Oh! 'that
the man, by whom, of all others, I least wish to be misunderstood, should
compel me to turn braggart and parade my unobtrusive virtues to the glare
of admiration! Walter, I have burst open the doors of prisons--I have
cancelled death-warrants and shortened many a frightful eternity upon the
galleys. Into wounds beyond my power to heal I have at least poured
soothing balsam. I have hurled mighty villains to the earth, and oft
with the tears of a harlot saved the cause of innocence from impending
ruin. Ah! young man, how sweet were then my feelings! How proudly did
these actions teach my heart to support the reproaches of my noble blood!
And now comes the man who alone can repay me for all that I have
suffered--the man, whom perhaps my relenting destiny created as a
compensation for former sorrows--the man, whom with ardent affection, I
already clasped in my dreams.

FERDINAND (interrupting her). Hold, lady, hold! You exceed the bounds of
our conference! You undertook to clear yourself from reproach, and you
make me a criminal! Spare me, I beseech you! Spare a heart already
overwhelmed by confusion and remorse!

LADY MILFORD (grasping his hand). You must hear me, Walter! hear me now
or never. Long enough has the heroine sustained me; now you must feel
the whole weight of these tears! Mark me, Walter! Should an
unfortunate--impetuously, irresistibly attracted towards you--clasp you
to her bosom full of unutterable, inextinguishable love--should this
unfortunate--bowed down with the consciousness of shame--disgusted with
vicious pleasures--heroically exalted by the inspiration of virtue--throw
herself--thus into your arms (embracing him in an eager and supplicating
manner); should she do this, and you still pronounce the freezing word
"Honor!" Should she pray that through you she might be saved--that
through you she might be restored to her hopes of heaven! (Turning away
her head, and speaking in a hollow, faltering voice.) Or should she, her
prayer refused, listen to the voice of despair, and to escape from your
image plunge herself into yet more fearful depths of infamy and vice----

FERDINAND (breaking from her in great emotion). No, by heaven! This is
more than I can endure! Lady, I am compelled--Heaven and earth compels
me--to make the honest avowal of my sentiments and situation.

LADY MILFORD (hastening from him). Oh! not now! By all that is holy I
entreat you--spare me in this dreadful moment when my lacerated heart
bleeds from a thousand wounds. Be your decision life or death--I dare
not--I will not hear it!

FERDINAND. I entreat you, lady! I insist! What I have to say will
mitigate my offence, and warmly plead your forgiveness for the past. I
have been deceived in you, lady. I expected--nay, I wished to find you
deserving my contempt. I came determined to insult you, and to make
myself the object of your hate. Happy would it have been for us both had
my purpose succeeded! (He pauses; then proceeds in a gentle and
faltering voice.) Lady, I love!--I love a maid of humble birth--Louisa
Miller is her name, the daughter of a music-master. (LADY MILFORD turns
away pale and greatly agitated.) I know into what an abyss I plunge
myself; but, though prudence bids me conceal my passion, honor overpowers
its precepts. I am the criminal--I first destroyed the golden calm of
Louisa's innocence--I lulled her heart with aspiring hopes, and
surrendered it, like a betrayer, a prey to the wildest of passions. You
will bid me remember my rank--my birth--my father--schemes of
aggrandisement. But in vain--I love! My hopes become more fervent as
the breach widens between nature and the mere conventions of society--
between my resolution and worldly prejudices! We shall see whether love
or interest is victorious. (LADY MILFORD during this has retired to the
extreme end of the apartment, and covers her face with both hands.
FERDINAND approaches her.) Have you aught to answer, lady?

LADY MILFORD (in a tone of intense suffering). Nothing! Nothing! but
that you destroy yourself and me--and, with us yet a third.

FERDINAND. A third?

LADY MILFORD. Never can you marry Louisa; never can you be happy with
me. We shall all be the victims of your father's rashness. I can never
hope to possess the heart of a husband who has been forced to give me his
hand.

FERDINAND. Forced, lady? Forced? And yet given? Will you enforce a
hand without a heart? Will you tear from a maiden a man who is the whole
world to her? Will you tear a maiden from a man who has centered all his
hopes of happiness on her alone? Will you do this, lady? you who but a
moment before were the lofty, noble-minded daughter of Britain?

LADY MILFORD. I will because I must! (earnestly and firmly). My
passions, Walter, overcome my tenderness for you. My honor has no
alternative. Our union is the talk of the whole city. Every eye, every
shaft of ridicule is bent against me. 'Twere a stain which time could
never efface should a subject of the prince reject my hand! Appease your
father if you have the power! Defend yourself as you best may! my
resolution is taken. The mine is fired and I abide the issue.

   [Exit. FERDINAND remains in speechless astonishment for some
   moments; then rushes wildly out.



SCENE IV.--Miller's House.

   MILLER meeting LOUISA and MRS. MILLER.

MILLER. Ay! ay! I told you how it would be!

LOUISA (hastening to him with anxiety). What, father? What?

MILLER (running up and down the room). My cloak, there. Quick, quick!
I must be beforehand with him. My cloak, I say! Yes, yes! this was just
what I expected!

LOUISA. For God's sake, father! tell me?

MRS. MILLER. What is the matter, Miller? What alarms you?

MILLER (throwing down his wig). Let that go to the friezer. What is the
matter, indeed? And my beard, too, is nearly half an inch long. What's
the matter? What do you think, you old carrion. The devil has broke
loose, and you may look out for squalls.

MRS. MILLER. There, now, that's just the way! When anything goes wrong
it is always my fault.

MILLER. Your fault? Yes, you brimstone fagot! and whose else should it
be? This very morning when you were holding forth about that confounded
major, did I not say then what would be the consequence? That knave,
Worm, has blabbed.

MRS. MILLER. Gracious heavens! But how do you know?

MILLER. How do I know? Look yonder! a messenger of the minister is
already at the door inquiring for the fiddler.

LOUISA (turning pale, and sitting down). Oh! God! I am in agony!

MILLER. And you, too, with that languishing air? (laughs bitterly).
But, right! Right! There is an old saying that where the devil keeps a
breeding-cage he is sure to hatch a handsome daughter.

MRS. MILLER. But how do you know that Louisa is in question? You may
have been recommended to the duke; he may want you in his orchestra.

MILLER (jumping up, and seizing his fiddlestick). May the sulphurous
rain of hell consume thee! Orchestra, indeed! Ay, where you, you old
procuress, shall howl the treble whilst my smarting back groans the base
(Throwing himself upon a chair.) Oh! God in heaven!

LOUISA (sinks on the sofa, pale as death). Father! Mother! Oh! my
heart sinks within me.

MILLER (starting up with anger). But let me only lay hands on that
infernal quill-driver! I'll make him skip--be it in this world or the
next; if I don't pound him to a jelly, body and soul; if I don't write
all the Ten Commandments, the seven Penitential Psalms, the five books of
Moses, and the whole of the Prophets upon his rascally hide so distinctly
that the blue hieroglyphics shall be legible at the day of judgment--if I
don't, may I----

MRS. MILLER. Yes, yes, curse and swear your hardest! That's the way to
frighten the devil! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, gracious heavens! What
shall we do? Who can advise us? Speak, Miller, speak; this silence
distracts me! (She runs screaming up and down the room.)

MILLER. I will instantly to the minister! I will open my mouth boldly,
and tell him all from beginning to end. You knew it before me, and ought
to have given me a hint of what was going on! The girl might yet have
been advised. It might still have been time to save her! But, no!
There was something for your meddling and making, and you must needs add
fuel to the fire. Now you have made your bed you may lie on it. As you
have brewed so you may drink; I shall take my daughter under my arm and
be off with her over the borders.



SCENE V.

   MILLER, MRS. MILLER, LOUISA, FERDINND.

(All speaking together).

 FERDINAND (rushes in, terrified, and out of breath). Has my father
 been here?

 LOUISA (starts back in horror). His father? Gracious heaven!

 MRS. MILLER (wringing her hands). The minister here? Then it's all
 over with us!

 MILLER (laughs bitterly). Thank God! Thank God! Now comes our
 benefit!

FERDINAND (rushing towards LOUISA, and clasping her in his arms). Mine
thou art, though heaven and hell were placed between us!

LOUISA. I am doomed! Speak, Ferdinand! Did you not utter that dreaded
name? Your father?

FERDINAND. Be not alarmed! the danger has passed! I have thee again!
again thou hast me! Let me regain my breath on thy dear bosom. It was a
dreadful hour!

LOUISA. What was a dreadful hour? Answer me, Ferdinand! I die with
apprehension!

FERDINAND (drawing back, gazing upon her earnestly, then in a solemn
tone). An hour, Louisa, when another's form stepped between my heart and
thee--an hour in which my love grew pale before my conscience--when
Louisa ceased to be all in all to Ferdinand!

   [LOUISA sinks back upon her chair, and conceals her face.

(FERDINAND stands before her in speechless agitation, then turns away
from her suddenly and exclaims). Never, never! Baroness, 'tis
impossible! you ask too much! Never can I sacrifice this innocence at
your shrine. No, by the eternal God! I cannot recall my oath, which
speaks to me from thy soul--thrilling eyes louder than the thunders of
heaven! Behold, lady! Inhuman father, look on this! Would you have me
destroy this angel? Shall my perfidy kindle a hell in this heavenly
bosom? (turning towards her with firmness). No! I will bear her to thy
throne, Almighty Judge! Thy voice shall declare if my affection be a
crime. (He grasps her hand, and raises her from the sofa.) Courage, my
beloved!--thou hast conquered--and I come forth a victor from the
terrible conflict!

LOUISA. No, no, Ferdinand, conceal nothing from me! Declare boldly the
dreadful decree! You named your father! You spoke of the baroness! The
shivering of death seizes my heart! 'Tis said she is about to be
married!

FERDINAND (quite overcome, throws himself at her feet). Yes, and to me,
dear unfortunate. Such is my father's will!

LOUISA (after a deep pause, in a tremulous voice, but with assumed
resignation). Well! Why am I thus affrighted? Has not my dear father
often told me that you never could be mine? But I was obstinate, and
believed him not. (A second pause; she falls weeping into her father's
arms.) Father, thy daughter is thine own again! Father, forgive me!
'Twas not your child's fault that the dream was so heavenly--the waking
so terrible!

MILLER. Louisa! Louisa! O merciful heaven! she has lost her senses!
My daughter! My poor child! Curses upon thy seducer! Curses upon the
pandering mother who threw thee in his way!

MRS. MILLER (weeping on LOUISA'S neck). Daughter, do I deserve this
curse? God forgive you, major! What has this poor lamb done that you
bring this misery upon her?

FERDINAND (with resolution). I will unravel the meshes of these
intrigues. I will burst asunder these iron chains of prejudice. As a
free-born man will I make my choice, and crush these insect souls with
the colossal force of my love!              [Going.

LOUISA (rises trembling from the sofa, and attempts to follow him).
Stay, oh, stay! Whither are you going? Father! Mother! He deserts us
in this fearful hour!

MRS. MILLER (hastens towards him, and detains him). The president is
coming hither? He will ill-use my child! He will ill-use us all,--and
yet, major, you are going to leave us.

MILLER (laughs hysterically). Leave us. Of course he is! What should
hinder him? The girl has given him all she had. (Grasping FERDINAND
with one hand, and LOUISA with the other.) Listen to me, young
gentleman. The only way out of my house is over my daughter's body. If
you possess one single spark of honor await your father's coming; tell
him, deceiver, how you stole her young and inexperienced heart; or, by
the God who made me! (thrusting LOUISA towards him with violence and
passion) you shall crush before my eyes this trembling worm whom love for
you has brought to shame and infamy!

FERDINAND (returns, and walks to and fro in deep thought). 'Tis true,
the President's power is great--parental authority is a mighty word--even
crimes claim respect when concealed within its folds. He may push that
authority far--very far! But love goes beyond it. Hear me, Louisa; give
me thy hand! (clasping it firmly). As surely as I hope for Heaven's
mercy in my dying hour, I swear that the moment which separates these
hands shall also rend asunder the thread that binds me to existence!

LOUISA. You terrify me! Turn from me! Your lips tremble! Your eyes
roll fearfully!

FERDINAND. Nay, Louisa! fear nothing! It is not madness which prompts
my oath! 'tis the choicest gift of Heaven, decision, sent to my aid at
that critical moment, when an oppressed bosom can only find relief in
some desperate remedy. I love thee, Louisa! Thou shalt be mine! 'Tis
resolved! And now for my father!

   [He rushes out, and is met by the PRESIDENT.



SCENE VI.

   MILLER, MRS. MILLER, LOUISA, FERDINAND, PRESIDENT, with SERVANTS.

PRESIDENT (as he enters). So! here he is! (All start in terror.)

FERDINAND (retiring a few paces). In the house of innocence!

PRESIDENT. Where a son learns obedience to his father!

FERDINAND. Permit me to----

PRESIDENT (interrupting him, turns to MILLER). The father, I presume?

MILLER. I am Miller, the musician.

PRESIDENT (to MRS. MILLER). And you, the mother?

MRS. MILLER. Yes, alas! her unfortunate mother!

FERDINAND (to MILLER.) Father, take Louisa to her chamber--she is
fainting.

PRESIDENT. An unnecessary precaution! I will soon arouse her. (To
LOUISA.) How long have you been acquainted with the President's son?

LOUISA (with timidity). Of the President's son I have never thought.
Ferdinand von Walter has paid his addresses to me since November last.

FERDINAND. And he adores her!

PRESIDENT (to LOUISA). Has he given you any assurance of his love?

FERDINAND. But a few minutes since, the most solemn, and God was my
witness.

PRESIDENT (to his son angrily). Silence! You shall have opportunity
enough of confessing your folly. (To LOUISA.) I await your answer.

LOUISA. He swore eternal love to me.

FERDINAND. And I will keep my oath.

PRESIDENT (to FERDINAND). Must I command your silence? (To LOUISA).
Did you accept his rash vows?

LOUISA (with tenderness). I did, and gave him mine in exchange.

FERDINAND (resolutely). The bond is irrevocable----

PRESIDENT (to FERDINAND). If you dare to interrupt me again I'll teach
you better manners. (To LOUISA, sneeringly.) And he paid handsomely
every time, no doubt?

LOUISA. I do not understand your question.

PRESIDENT (with an insulting laugh). Oh, indeed! Well, I only meant to
hint that--as everything has its price--I hope you have been more
provident than to bestow your favors gratis--or perhaps you were
satisfied with merely participating in the pleasure? Eh? how was it?

FERDINAND (infuriated). Hell and confusion! What does this mean?

LOUISA (to FERDINAND, with dignity and emotion). Baron von Walter, now
you are free!

FERDINAND. Father! virtue though clothed in a beggar's garb commands
respect!

PRESIDENT (laughing aloud). A most excellent joke! The father is
commanded to honor his son's strumpet!

LOUISA. Oh! Heaven and earth! (Sinks down in a swoon.)

FERDINAND (drawing his sword). Father, you gave me life, and, till now,
I acknowledged your claim on it. That debt is cancelled. (Replaces his
sword in the scabbard, and points to LOUISA.) There lies the bond of
filial duty torn to atoms!

MILLER (who has stood apart trembling, now comes forward, by turns
gnashing his teeth in rage, and shrinking back in terror). Your
excellency, the child is the father's second self. No offence, I hope!
Who strikes the child hits the father--blow for blow--that's our rule
here. No offence, I hope!

MRS. MILLER. God have mercy on us! Now the old man has begun--we shall
all catch it with a vengeance!

PRESIDENT (who has not understood what MILLER said). What? is the old
pander stirred up? We shall have something to settle together presently,
Mr. Pander!

MILLER. You mistake me, my lord. My name is Miller, at your service for
an adagio--but, as to ladybirds, I cannot serve you. As long as there is
such an assortment at court, we poor citizens can't afford to lay in
stock! No offence, I hope!

MRS. MILLER. For Heaven's sake, man, hold your tongue! would you ruin
both wife and child?

FERDINAND (to his father). You play but a sorry part here, my lord, and
might well have dispensed with these witnesses.

MILLER (coming nearer, with increasing confidence). To be plain and
above board--No offence, I hope--your excellency may have it all your own
way in the Cabinet--but this is my house. I'm your most obedient, very
humble servant when I wait upon you with a petition, but the rude,
unmannerly intruder I have the right to bundle out--no offence, I hope!

PRESIDENT (pale with anger, and approaching MILLER). What? What's that
you dare to utter?

MILLER (retreating a few steps). Only a little bit of my mind sir--no
offence, I hope!

PRESIDENT (furiously). Insolent villain! Your impertinence shall
procure you a lodging in prison. (To his servants). Call in the
officers of justice! Away! (Some of the attendants go out. The
PRESIDENT paces the stage with a furious air.) The father shall to
prison; the mother and her strumpet daughter to the pillory! Justice
shall lend her sword to my rage! For this insult will I have ample
amends. Shall such contemptible creatures thwart my plans, and set
father and son against each other with impunity? Tremble, miscreants! I
will glut my hate in your destruction--the whole brood of you--father,
mother, and daughter shall be sacrificed to my vengeance!

FERDINAND (to MILLER, in a collected and firm manner). Oh! not so! Fear
not, friends! I am your protector. (Turning to the PRESIDENT, with
deference). Be not so rash, father! For your own sake let me beg of you
no violence. There is a corner of my heart where the name of father has
never yet been heard. Oh! press not into that!

PRESIDENT. Silence, unworthy boy! Rouse not my anger to greater fury!

MILLER (recovering from a stupor). Wife, look you to your daughter! I
fly to the duke. His highness' tailor--God be praised for reminding me
of it at this moment--learns the flute of me--I cannot fail of success.
(Is hastening off.)

PRESIDENT. To the duke, will you? Have you forgotten that I am the
threshold over which you must pass, or failing, perish? To the duke, you
fool? Try to reach him with your lamentations, when, reduced to a living
skeleton, you lie buried in a dungeon five fathoms deep, where light and
sound never enter; where darkness goggles at hell with gloating eyes!
There gnash thy teeth in anguish; there rattle thy chains in despair, and
groan, "Woe is me! This is beyond human endurance!"



SCENE VII.

   Officers of Justice--the former.

FERDINAND (flies to LOUISA, who, overcome with fear, faints in his arms.)
Louisa!--Help, for God's sake! Terror overpowers her!

   [MILLER, catching up his cane and putting on his hat,
   prepares for defense. MRS. MILLER throws herself on her
   knees before the PRESIDENT.

PRESIDENT (to the officers, showing his star). Arrest these offenders in
the duke's name. Boy, let go that strumpet! Fainting or not--when once
her neck is fitted with the iron collar the mob will pelt her till she
revives.

MRS. MILLER. Mercy, your excellency! Mercy! mercy!

MILLER (snatching her from the ground with violence). Kneel to God, you
howling fool, and not to villains--since I must to prison any way!

PRESIDENT (biting his lips.) You may be out in your reckoning,
scoundrel! There are still gallows to spare! (To the officers.) Must I
repeat my orders?

   [They approach LOUISA--FERDINAND places himself before her.

FERDINAND (fiercely). Touch her who dare! (He draws his sword and
flourishes it.) Let no one presume to lay a finger on her, whose life is
not well insured. (To the PRESIDENT.) As you value your own safety,
father, urge me no further!

PRESIDENT (to the officers in a threatening voice). At your peril,
cowards! (They again attempt to seize LOUISA.)

FERDINAND. Hell and furies! Back, I say! (Driving them away.) Once
more, father, I warn you--have some thought for your own safety! Drive
me not to extremity!

PRESIDENT (enraged to the officers). Scoundrels! Is this your
obedience? (The officers renew their efforts.)

FERDINAND. Well, if it must be so (attacking and wounding several of
them), Justice forgive me!

PRESIDENT (exasperated to the utmost). Let me see whether I, too, must
feel your weapon! (He seizes LOUISA and delivers her to an officer.)

FERDINAND (laughing bitterly). Father! father! Your conduct is a
galling satire upon Providence, who has so ill understood her people as
to make bad statesmen of excellent executioners!

PRESIDENT (to the officers). Away with her!

FERDINAND. Father, if I cannot prevent it, she must stand in the
pillory--but by her side will also stand the son of the president. Do
you still insist?

PRESIDENT. The more entertaining will be the exhibition. Away with her!

FERDINAND. I will pledge the honor of an officer's sword for her. Do
you still insist?

PRESIDENT. Your sword is already familiar with disgrace. Away! away!
You know my will.

FERDINAND (wrests LOUISA from the officer and holds her with one arm,
with the other points his sword at her bosom.) Father, rather than
tamely see my wife branded with infamy I will plunge this sword into her
bosom. Do you still insist?

PRESIDENT. Do it, if the point be sharp enough!

FERDINAND (releases LOUISA, and looks wildly towards heaven). Be thou
witness, Almighty God, that I have left no human means untried to save
her! Forgive me now if I have recourse to hellish means. While you are
leading her to the pillory (speaking loudly in the PRESIDENT'S ear), I
will publish throughout the town a pleasant history of how a president's
chair may be gained!                   [Exit.

PRESIDENT (as if thunder-struck). How? What said he? Ferdinand!
Release her instantly! (Rushes after his son.)




ACT III.

SCENE I.

   Room at the President's. Enter PRESIDENT and WORM.

PRESIDENT. That was an infernal piece of business!

WORM. Just what I feared, your excellency. Opposition may inflame the
enthusiast, but never converts him.

PRESIDENT. I had placed my whole reliance upon the success of this
attempt. I made no doubt but if the girl were once publicly disgraced,
he would be obliged as an officer and a gentleman to resign her.

WORM. An admirable idea!--had you but succeeded in disgracing her.

PRESIDENT. And yet--when I reflect on the matter coolly--I ought not to
have suffered myself to be overawed. It was a threat which he never
could have meant seriously.

WORM. Be not too certain of that! There is no folly too gross for
excited passion! You say that the baron has always looked upon
government with an eye of disapprobation. I can readily believe it. The
principles which he brought with him from college are ill-suited to our
atmosphere. What have the fantastic visions of personal nobility and
greatness of soul to do in court, where 'tis the perfection of wisdom to
be great and little by turns, as occasion demands? The baron is too
young and too fiery to take pleasure in the slow and crooked paths of
intrigue. That alone can give impulse to his ambition which seems
glorious and romantic!

PRESIDENT (impatiently). But how will these sagacious remarks advance
our affairs?

WORM. They will point out to your excellency where the wound lies, and
so, perhaps, help you to find a remedy. Such a character--pardon the
observation--ought never to have been made a confidant, or should never
have been roused to enmity. He detests the means by which you have risen
to power! Perhaps it is only the son that has hitherto sealed the lips
of the betrayer! Give him but a fair opportunity for throwing off the
bonds imposed upon him by nature! only convince him, by unrelenting
opposition to his passion, that you are no longer an affectionate father,
and that moment the duties of a patriot will rush upon him with
irresistible force! Nay, the high-wrought idea of offering so
unparalleled a sacrifice at the shrine of justice might of itself alone
have charms sufficient to reconcile him to the ruin of a parent!

PRESIDENT. Worm! Worm! To what a horrible abyss do you lead me!

WORM. Never fear, my lord, I will lead you back in safety! May I speak
without restraint?

PRESIDENT (throwing himself into a seat). Freely, as felon with felon.

WORM. Forgive me, then. It seems to me that you have to ascribe all
your influence as president to the courtly art of intrigue; why not
resort to the same means for attaining your ends as a father? I well
remember with what seeming frankness you invited your predecessor to a
game at piquet, and caroused half the night with him over bumpers of
Burgundy; and yet it was the same night on which the great mine you had
planned to annihilate him was to explode. Why did you make a public
exhibition of enmity to the major? You should by no means have let it
appear that you knew anything of his love affair. You should have made
the girl the object of your attacks and have preserved the affection of
your son; like the prudent general who does not engage the prime of the
enemy's force but creates disaffection among the ranks?

PRESIDENT. How could this have been effected?

WORM. In the simplest manner--even now the game is not entirely lost!
Forget for a time that you are a father. Do not contend against a
passion which opposition only renders more formidable. Leave me to
hatch, from the heat of their own passions, the basilisk which shall
destroy them.

PRESIDENT. I am all attention.

WORM. Either my knowledge of human character is very small, or the major
is as impetuous in jealousy as in love. Make him suspect the girl's
constancy,--whether probable or not does not signify. One grain of
leaven will be enough to ferment the whole mass.

PRESIDENT. But where shall we find that grain?

WORM. Now, then, I come to the point. But first explain to me how much
depends upon the major's compliance. How far is it of consequence that
the romance with the music-master's daughter should be brought to a
conclusion and the marriage with Lady Milford effected?

PRESIDENT. How can you ask me, Worm? If the match with Lady Milford is
broken off I stand a fair chance of losing my whole influence; on the
other hand, if I force the major's consent, of losing my head.

WORM (with animation). Now have the kindness to listen to me. The major
must be entangled in a web. Your whole power must be employed against
his mistress. We must make her write a love-letter, address it to a
third party, and contrive to drop it cleverly in the way of the major.

PRESIDENT. Absurd proposal! As if she would consent to sign her own
death-warrant.

WORM. She must do so if you will but let me follow my own plan. I know
her gentle heart thoroughly; she has but two vulnerable sides by which
her conscience can be attacked; they are her father and the major. The
latter is entirely out of the question; we must, therefore, make the most
of the musician.

PRESIDENT. In what way?

WORM. From the description your excellency gave me of what passed in his
house nothing can be easier than to terrify the father with the threat of
a criminal process. The person of his favorite, and of the keeper of the
seals, is in some degree the representative of the duke himself, and he
who offends the former is guilty of treason towards the latter. At any
rate I will engage with these pretences to conjure up such a phantom as
shall scare the poor devil out of his seven senses.

PRESIDENT. But recollect, Worm, the affair must not be carried so far as
to become serious.

WORM. Nor shall it. It shall be carried no further than is necessary to
frighten the family into our toils. The musician, therefore, must be
quietly arrested. To make the necessity yet more urgent, we may also
take possession of the mother;--and then we begin to talk of criminal
process, of the scaffold, and of imprisonment for life, and make the
daughter's letter the sole condition of the parent's release.

PRESIDENT. Excellent! Excellent! Now I begin to understand you!

WORM. Louisa loves her father--I might say even to adoration! The
danger which threatens his life, or at least his freedom--the reproaches
of her conscience for being the cause of his misfortunes--the
impossibility of ever becoming the major's wife--the confusion of her
brain, which I take upon myself to produce--all these considerations make
our plan certain of success. She must be caught in the snare.

PRESIDENT. But my son--will he not instantly get scent of it? Will it
not make him yet more desperate?

WORM. Leave that to me, your excellency! The old folks shall not be set
at liberty till they and their daughter have taken the most solemn oath
to keep the whole transaction secret, and never to confess the deception.

PRESIDENT. An oath! Ridiculous! What restraint can an oath be?

WORM. None upon us, my lord, but the most binding upon people of their
stamp. Observe, how dexterously by this measure we shall both reach the
goal of our desires. The girl loses at once the affection of her lover,
and her good name; the parents will lower their tone, and, thoroughly
humbled by misfortune, will esteem it an act of mercy, if, by giving her
my hand, I re-establish their daughter's reputation.

PRESIDENT (shaking his head and smiling). Artful villain! I confess
myself outdone--no devil could spin a finer snare! The scholar excels
his master. The next question is, to whom must the letter be addressed--
with whom to accuse her of having an intrigue?

WORM. It must necessarily be some one who has all to gain or all to lose
by your son's decision in this affair.

PRESIDENT (after a moment's reflection). I can think of no one but the
marshal.

WORM (shrugs his shoulders). The marshal! He would certainly not be my
choice were I Louisa Miller.

PRESIDENT. And why not? What a strange notion! A man who dresses in
the height of fashion--who carries with him an atmosphere of eau de mille
fleurs and musk--who can garnish every silly speech with a handful of
ducats--could all this possibly fail to overcome the delicacy of a
tradesman's daughter? No, no, my good friend, jealousy is not quite so
hard of belief. I shall send for the marshal immediately. (Rings.)

WORM. While your excellency takes care of him, and of the fiddler's
arrest, I will go and indite the aforesaid letter.

PRESIDENT (seats himself at his writing-table). Do so; and, as soon as
it is ready, bring it hither for my perusal.

                     [Exit WORM.

   [The PRESIDENT, having written, rises and hands the paper
   to a servant who enters.

See this arrest executed without a moment's delay, and let Marshal von
Kalb be informed that I wish to see him immediately.

SERVANT. The marshal's carriage has just stopped at your lordship's
door.

PRESIDENT. So much the better--as for the arrest, let it be managed with
such precaution that no disturbance arise.

SERVANT. I will take care, my lord.

PRESIDENT. You understand me? The business must be kept quite secret.

SERVANT. Your excellency shall be obeyed.

                    [Exit SERVANT.



SCENE II.

   The PRESIDENT--MARSHALL KALB.

MARSHAL (hastily). I have just looked in, en passant, my dear friend!
How are you? How do you get on? We are to have the grand opera Dido
to-night! Such a conflagration!--a whole town will be in flames!--you
will come to the blaze of course--eh?

PRESIDENT. I have conflagration enough in my own house, one that
threatens the destruction of all I possess. Be seated, my dear marshal.
You arrive very opportunely to give me your advice and assistance in a
certain business which will either advance our fortunes or utterly ruin
us both!

MARSHAL. Don't alarm me so, my dear friend!

PRESIDENT. As I said before, it must exalt or ruin us entirely! You
know my project respecting the major and Lady Milford--you are not
ignorant how necessary this union is to secure both our fortunes!
Marshal, our plans threaten to come to naught. My son refuses to marry
her!

MARSHAL. Refuses! Refuses to marry her? But, my goodness! I have
published the news through the whole town. The union is the general
topic of conversation.

PRESIDENT. Then you will be talked of by all the town as a spreader of
false reports,--in short, Ferdinand loves another.

MARSHAL. Pooh! you are joking! As if that were an obstacle?

PRESIDENT. With such an enthusiast a most insurmountable one!

MARSHAL. Can he be mad enough to spurn his good-fortune? Eh?

PRESIDENT. Ask him yourself and you'll hear what he will answer.

MARSHAL. But, mon Dieu! what can he answer?

PRESIDENT. That he will publish to the world the crime by which we rose
to power--that he will denounce our forged letters and receipts--that he
will send us both to the scaffold. That is what he can answer.

MARSHAL. Are you out of your mind?

PRESIDENT. Nay, that is what he has already answered? He was actually
on the point of putting these threats into execution; and it was only by
the most abject submission that I could persuade him to abandon his
design. What say you to this, marshal?

MARSHAL (with a look of bewildered stupidity). I am at my wits' end!

PRESIDENT. That might have blown over. But my spies have just brought
me notice that the grand cupbearer, von Bock, is on the point of offering
himself as a suitor to her ladyship.

MARSHAL. You drive me distracted! Whom did you say? Von Bock? Don't
you know that we are mortal enemies? And don't you know why?

PRESIDENT. The first word that I ever heard of it!

MARSHAL. My dear count! You shall hear--your hair will stand on end!
You must remember the famous court ball--it is now just twenty years ago.
It was the first time that English country-dances were introduced--you
remember how the hot wax trickled from the great chandelier on Count
Meerschaum's blue and silver domino. Surely, you cannot have forgotten
that affair!

PRESIDENT. Who could forget so remarkable a circumstance!

MARSHAL. Well, then, in the heat of the dance Princess Amelia lost her
garter. The whole ball, as you may imagine, was instantly thrown into
confusion. Von Bock and myself--we were then fellow-pages--crept through
the whole saloon in search of the garter. At length I discovered it.
Von Bock perceives my good-fortune--rushes forward--tears it from my
hands, and, just fancy--presents it to the princess, and so cheated me of
the honor I had so fortunately earned. What do you think of that?

PRESIDENT. 'Twas most insolent!

MARSHAL. I thought I should have fainted upon the spot. A trick so
malicious was beyond the powers of mortal endurance. At length I
recovered myself; and, approaching the princess, said,--"Von Bock, 'tis
true, was fortunate enough to present the garter to your highness; but he
who first discovered that treasure finds his reward in silence, and is
dumb!"

PRESIDENT. Bravo, marshal! Admirably said! Most admirable!

MARSHAL. And is dumb! But till the day of judgment will I remember his
conduct--the mean, sneaking sycophant! And as if that were not
aggravation enough, he actually, as we were struggling on the ground for
the garter, rubbed all the powder from one side of my peruke with his
sleeve, and ruined me for the rest of the evening.

PRESIDENT. This is the man who will marry Lady Milford, and consequently
soon take the lead at court.

MARSHAL. You plunge a dagger in my heart! But why must he? Why should
he marry her? Why he? Where is the necessity?

PRESIDENT. Because Ferdinand refuses her, and there is no other
candidate.

MARSHAL. But is there no possible method of obtaining your son's
consent? Let the measure be ever so extravagant or desperate--there is
nothing to which I should not willingly consent in order to supplant the
hated von Bock.

PRESIDENT. I know but one means of accomplishing this, and that rests
entirely with you.

MARSHAL. With me? Name it, my dear count, name it!

PRESIDENT. You must set Ferdinand and his mistress against each other.

MARSHAL. Against each other? How do you mean?--and how would that be
possible.

PRESIDENT. Everything is ours could we make him suspect the girl.

MARSHAL. Ah, of theft, you mean?

PRESIDENT. Pshaw!--he would never believe that! No, no--I mean that she
is carrying on an intrigue with another.

MARSHAL. And this other, who is he to be?

PRESIDENT. Yourself!

MARSHAL. How? Must I be her lover? Is she of noble birth?

PRESIDENT. What signifies that? What an idea!--she is the daughter of a
musician.

MARSHAL. A plebeian?--that will never do!

PRESIDENT. What will never do? Nonsense, man! Who in the name of
wonder would think of asking a pair of rosy cheeks for their owner's
pedigree?

MARSHAL. But consider, my dear count, a married man! And my reputation
at court!

PRESIDENT. Oh! that's quite another thing! I beg a thousand pardons,
marshal; I was not aware that a man of unblemished morals held a higher
place in your estimation than a man of power! Let us break up our
conference.

MARSHAL. Be not so hasty, count. I did not mean to say that.

PRESIDENT (coldly.) No--no! You are perfectly right. I, too, am weary
of office. I shall throw up the game, tender my resignation to the duke,
and congratulate von Bock on his accession to the premiership. This
duchy is not all the world.

MARSHAL. And what am I to do? It is very fine for you to talk thus!
You are a man of learning! But I--mon Dieu! What shall I be if his
highness dismisses me?

PRESIDENT. A stale jest!--a thing out of fashion!

MARSHAL. I implore you, my dearest, my most valued friend. Abandon
those thoughts. I will consent to everything!

PRESIDENT. Will you lend your name to an assignation to which this
Louisa Miller shall invite you in writing?

MARSHAL. Well, in God's name let it be so!

PRESIDENT. And drop the letter where the major cannot fail to find it.

MARSHAL. For instance, on the parade, where I can let it fall as if
accidentally in drawing out my handkerchief.

PRESIDENT. And when the baron questions you will you assume the
character of a favored rival?

MARSHAL. Mort de ma vie! I'll teach him manners! I'll cure him of
interfering in my amours!

PRESIDENT. Good! Now you speak in the right key. The letter shall be
written immediately! Come in the evening to receive it, and we will talk
over the part you are to play.

MARSHAL. I will be with you the instant I have paid sixteen visits of
the very highest importance. Permit me, therefore, to take my leave
without delay. (Going.)