PRESIDENT (rings). I reckon upon your discretion, marshal.
MARSHAL (calls back). Ah, mon Dieu! you know me!
[Exit MARSHAL.
SCENE III.
The PRESIDENT and WORM.
WORM. The music-master and his wife have been arrested without the least
disturbance. Will your excellency read this letter?
PRESIDENT (having read it). Excellent! Excellent, my dear secretary!
poison like this would convert health itself into jaundiced leprosy. The
marshal, too, has taken the bait. Now then away with my proposals to the
father, and then lose no time--with the daughter.
[Exeunt on different sides.
SCENE IV.--Room in MILLER'S House.
LOUISA and FERDINAND.
LOUISA. Cease, I implore you! I expect no more days of happiness. All
my hopes are levelled with the dust.
FERDINAND. All mine are exalted to heaven! My father's passions are
roused! He will direct his whole artillery against us! He will force me
to become an unnatural son. I will not answer for my filial duty. Rage
and despair will wring from me the dark secret that my father is an
assassin! The son will deliver the parent into the hands of the
executioner. This is a moment of extreme danger, and extreme danger
alone could prompt my love to take so daring a leap! Hear me, Louisa! A
thought, vast and immeasurable as my love, has arisen in my soul--Thou,
Louisa, and I, and Love! Lies not a whole heaven within this circle? Or
dost thou feel that there is still something wanting?
LOUISA. Oh! cease! No more! I tremble to think what you would say.
FERDINAND. If we have no longer a claim upon the world, why should we
seek its approbation? Why venture where nothing can be gained and all
may be lost? Will thine eyes sparkle less brightly reflected by the
Baltic waves than by the waters of the Rhine or the Elbe? Where Louise
loves me there is my native land! Thy footsteps will make the wild and
sandy desert far more attractive than the marble halls of my ancestors.
Shall we miss the pomp of cities? Be we where we may, Louisa, a sun will
rise and a sun will set--scenes before which the most glorious
achievements of art grow pale and dim! Though we serve God no more in
his consecrated churches, yet the night shall spread her solemn shadows
round us; the changing moon shall hear our confession, and a glorious
congregation of stars join in our prayers! Think you our talk of love
can ever be exhausted! Oh, no! One smile from Louisa were a theme for
centuries--the dream of life will be over ere I can exhaust the charms of
a single tear.
LOUISA. And hast thou no duty save that of love?
FERDINAND (embracing her). None so sacred as thy peace of mind!
LOUISA (very seriously). Cease, then, and leave me. I have a father who
possesses no treasure save one only daughter. To-morrow he will be sixty
years old--that he will fall a victim to the vengeance of the President
is most certain!
FERDINAND (interrupting her). He shall accompany us. Therefore no more
objections, my beloved. I will go and convert my valuables into gold,
and raise money on my father's credit! It is lawful to plunder a robber,
and are not his treasures the price for which he has sold his country?
This night, when the clock strikes one, a carriage will stop at your
door--throw yourself into it, and we fly!
LOUISA. Pursued by your father's curse! a curse, unthinking one, which
is never pronounced in vain even by murderers--which the avenging angel
hears when uttered by a malefactor in his last agony--which, like a fury,
will fearfully pursue the fugitives from shore to shore! No, my beloved!
If naught but a crime can preserve you to me, I still have courage to
resign you!
FERDINAND (mutters gloomily). Indeed!
LOUISA. Resign you? Oh! horrible beyond all measure is the thought.
Horrible enough to pierce the immortal spirit and pale the glowing cheeks
of joy! Ferdinand! To resign you! Yet how can one resign what one
never possessed? Your heart is the property of your station. My claim
was sacrilege, and, shuddering, I withdraw it!
FERDINAND (with convulsed features, and biting his underlip). You
withdraw it!
LOUISA. Nay! look upon me, dearest Ferdinand. Gnash not your teeth so
bitterly! Come, let my example rouse your slumbering courage. Let me be
the heroine of this moment. Let me restore to a father his lost son. I
will renounce a union which would sever the bonds by which society is
held together, and overthrow the landmarks of social order. I am the
criminal. My bosom has nourished proud and foolish wishes, and my
present misery is a just punishment. Oh! leave me then the sweet, the
consoling idea that mine is the sacrifice. Canst thou deny me this last
satisfaction? (FERDINAND, stupefied with agitation and anger, seizes a
violin and strikes a few notes upon it; and then tears away the strings,
dashes the instrument upon the ground, and, stamping it to pieces, bursts
into a loud laugh.) Walter! God in Heaven! What mean you? Be not thus
unmanned! This hour requires fortitude; it is the hour of separation!
You have a heart, dear Walter; I know that heart--warm as life is your
love--boundless and immeasurable--bestow it on one more noble, more
worthy--she need not envy the most fortunate of her sex! (Striving to
repress her tears.) You shall see me no more! Leave the vain
disappointed girl to bewail her sorrow in sad and lonely seclusion; where
her tears will flow unheeded. Dead and gone are all my hopes of
happiness in this world; yet still shall I inhale ever and anon the
perfumes of the faded wreath! (Giving him her trembling hand, while her
face is turned away.) Baron Walter, farewell!
FERDINAND (recovering from the stupor in which he was plunged). Louisa,
I fly! Do you indeed refuse to follow me?
LOUISA (who has retreated to the further end of the apartment, conceals
her countenance with her hands). My duty bids me stay, and suffer.
FERDINAND. Serpent! thou liest--some other motive chains thee here!
LOUISA (in a tone of the most heartfelt sorrow). Encourage that belief.
Haply it may make our parting more supportable.
FERDINAND. What? Oppose freezing duty to fiery love! And dost thou
think to cheat me with that delusion? Some rival detains thee here, and
woe be to thee and him should my suspicions be confirmed!
[Exit.
SCENE V.
LOUISA (she remains for some time motionless in the seat upon which she
has thrown herself. At length she rises, comes forward, and looks
timidly around). Where can my parents be? My father promised to return
in a few minutes; yet full five dreadful hours have passed since his
departure. Should any accident----good Heavens! What is come over me?
Why does my heart palpitate so violently? (Here WORM enters, and remains
standing unobserved in the background.) It can be nothing real. 'Tis
but the terrible delusion of my over-heated blood. When once the soul is
wrapped in terror the eye behold spectres in every shadow.
SCENE VI.
LOUISA and WORM.
WORM (approaches her). Good evening, miss.
LOUISA. Heavens! who speaks! (Perceives him, and starts back in
terror.) Ha! Dreadful! dreadful! I fear some dire misfortune is even
now realizing the forebodings of my soul! (To WORM, with a look of
disdain.) Do you seek the president? he is no longer here.
WORM. 'Tis you I seek, miss!
LOUISA. I wonder, then, that you did not direct your steps towards the
market-place.
WORM. What should I do there?
LOUISA. Release your betrothed from the pillory.
WORM. Louisa, you cherish some false suspicion----
LOUISA (sharply interrupting him). What is your business with me?
WORM. I come with a message from your father.
LOUISA (agitated). From my father? Oh! Where is my father?
WORM. Where he would fain not be!
LOUISA. Quick, quick, for God's sake! Oh! my foreboding heart! Where
is my father!
WORM. In prison, if you needs must know!
LOUISA (with a look towards heaven). This, too! This, too! In prison,
said you? And why in prison?
WORM. It is the duke's order.
LOUISA. The duke's?
WORM. Who thinking his own dignity offended by the insults offered to
the person of his representative----
LOUISA. How? How? Oh ye Almighty Powers!
WORM.----Has resolved to inflict the most exemplary punishment.
LOUISA. This was still wanting! This! Yes, in truth. I now feel that
my heart does love another besides Ferdinand! That could not be allowed
to escape! The prince's dignity offended? Heavenly Providence! Save,
oh! save my sinking faith! (After a moment's pause, she turns to WORM.)
And Ferdinand?
WORM. Must choose between Lady Milford's hand and his father's curse and
disinheritance.
LOUISA. Terrible choice!--and yet--yet is he the happier of the two. He
has no father to lose--and yet to have none is misery enough! My father
imprisoned for treason--my Ferdinand compelled to choose between Lady
Milford's hand or a parent's curse and disinheritance! Truly admirable!
for even villany so perfect is perfection! Perfection? No! something is
still wanting to complete that. Where is my mother?
WORM. In the house of correction.
LOUISA (with a smile of despair). Now the measure is full! It is full,
and I am free--released from all duties--all sorrows--all joys! Released
even from Providence! I have nothing more to do with it! (A dreadful
pause.) Have you aught else to communicate? Speak freely--now I can
hear anything with indifference.
WORM. All that has happened you already know.
LOUISA. But not that which is yet to happen! (Another pause, during
which she surveys WORM from head to foot.) Unfortunate man! you
have entered on a melancholy employment, which can never lead you to
happiness. To cause misery to others is sad enough--but to be the
messenger of evil is horrible indeed--to be the first to shriek the
screech-owl's song, to stand by when the bleeding heart trembles upon
the iron shaft of necessity, and the Christian doubts the existence of a
God--Heaven protect me! Wert thou paid a ton of gold for every tear of
anguish which thou must witness, I would not be a wretch like thee! What
is there yet to happen?
WORM. I know not.
LOUISA. You pretend not to know? This light-shunning embassy trembles
at the sound of words, but the spectre betrays itself in your ghastly
visage. What is there yet to happen? You said the duke will inflict
upon him a most exemplary punishment. What call you exemplary?
WORM. Ask me no more.
LOUISA. Terrible man! Some hangman must have schooled thee! Else thou
hast not so well learned to prolong the torture of thy victim before
giving the finishing stroke to the agonized heart! Speak! What fate
awaits my father? Death thou canst announce with a laughing sneer--what
then must that be which thou dost hesitate to disclose? Speak out! Let
me at once receive the overwhelming weight of thy tidings! What fate
awaits my father?
WORM. A criminal process.
LOUISA. But what is that? I am an ignorant, innocent girl, and
understand but little of your fearful terms of law. What mean you by a
criminal process?
WORM. Judgment upon life or death.
LOUISA (firmly). Ah! I thank you.
[Exit hastily by a side door.
WORM (alarmed). What means this? Should the simpleton perchance--
confusion! Surely she will not--I must follow her. I am answerable for
her life. (As he is going towards the door, LOUISA returns, wrapped in a
cloak.)
LOUISA. Your pardon, Mr. Secretary, I must lock the door.
WORM. Whither in such haste?
LOUISA (passing him). To the duke.
WORM (alarmed, detains her). How? Whither?
LOUISA. To the duke. Do you not hear? Even to that very duke whose
will is to decide upon my father's life or death. Yet no?--'tis not his
will that decides, but the will of wicked men who surround his throne.
He lends naught to this process, save the shadow of his majesty, and his
royal signature.
WORM (with a burst of laughter). To the duke!
LOUISA. I know the meaning of that sneering laugh--you would tell me
that I shall find no compassion there. But though I may meet (God
preserve me!) with nothing but scorn--scorn at my sorrows--yet will I to
the duke. I have been told that the great never know what misery is;
that they fly from the knowledge of it. But I will teach the duke what
misery is; I will paint to him, in all the writhing agonies of death,
what misery is; I will cry aloud in wailings that shall creep through the
very marrow of his bones, what misery is; and, while at my picture his
hairs shall stand on end like quills upon the porcupine, will I shriek
into his affrighted ear, that in the hour of death the sinews of these
mighty gods of earth shall shrivel and shrink, and that at the day of
judgment beggars and kings shall be weighed together in the same balance
(Going.)
WORM (ironically). By all means go to the duke! You can really do
nothing more prudent; I advise you heartily to the step. Only go, and I
give you my word that the duke will grant your suit.
LOUISA (stopping suddenly). What said you? Do you yourself advise the
step? (Returns hastily). What am I about to do? Something wicked
surely, since this man approves it--how know you that the prince will
grant my suit?
WORM. Because he will not have to grant it unrewarded.
LOUISA. Not unrewarded? And what price does he set on his humanity?
WORM. The person of the fair suppliant will be payment enough!
LOUISA (stopping for a moment in mute dismay--in a feeble voice).
Almighty God!
WORM. And I trust that you will not think your father's life over-valued
when 'tis purchased at so gracious a price.
LOUISA (with great indignation). True, oh! true! The great are
entrenched from truth behind their own vices, safely as behind the swords
of cherubim. The Almighty protect thee, father! Your child can die--
but not sin for thee.
WORM. This will be agreeable news for the poor disconsolate old man.
"My Louisa," says he, "has bowed me down to the earth; but my Louisa will
raise me up again." I hasten to him with your answer. (Affects to be
about to depart.)
LOUISA (flies after him and holds him back). Stay! stay! one moment's
patience! How nimble this Satan is, when his business is to drive
humanity distracted! I have bowed him to the earth! I must raise him up
again! Speak to me! Counsel me! What can I, what must I do?
WORM. There is but one means of saving him!
LOUISA. What is that means?
WORM. And your father approves of it----
LOUISA. My father? Oh! name that means.
WORM. It is easy for you to execute.
LOUISA. I know of nothing harder than infamy!
WORM. Suppose you were to release the major from his engagement?
LOUISA. Release him! Do you mock me? Do you call that a choice to
which force compelled me?
WORM. You mistake me, dear girl! The major must resign you willingly,
and be the first to retract his engagement.
LOUISA. That he will never do.
WORM. So it appears. Should we, do you think, have had recourse to you
were it not that you alone are able to help us?
LOUISA. I cannot compel him to hate me.
WORM. We will try! Be seated.
LOUISA (drawing back). Man! What is brooding in thy artful brain?
WORM. Be seated. Here are paper, pens, and ink. Write what I dictate.
LOUISA (sitting down in the greatest uneasiness). What must I write? To
whom must I write?
WORM. To your father's executioner.
LOUISA. Ah! How well thou knowest to torture souls to thy purpose.
(Takes a pen.)
WORM (dictating to her). "My dear Sir (LOUISA writes with a trembling
hand,) three days, three insupportable days, have already passed--already
passed--since last we met."
LOUISA (starts, and lays down her pen). To whom is the letter?
WORM. To your father's executioner.
LOUISA. Oh! my God!
WORM. "But for this you must blame the major--the major--who watches me
all day with the vigilance of an Argus."
LOUISA (starting up). Villany! Villany beyond all precedent! To whom
is the letter?
WORM. To your father's executioner.
LOUISA (paces to and fro, wringing her hands). No, no, no! This is
tyrannical! Oh Heaven! If mortals provoke thee, punish them like
mortals; but wherefore must I be placed between two precipices?
Wherefore am I hurled by turns from death to infamy, from infamy to
death? Wherefore is my neck made the footstool of this blood-sucking
fiend? No; do what thou wilt, I will never write that!
WORM (seizing his hat). As you please, miss! It rests entirely on your
own pleasure!
LOUISA. Pleasure, say'st thou? On my own pleasure? Go, barbarian!
Suspend some unfortunate over the pit of hell; then make your demands,
and ask your victim if it be his pleasure to grant your request! Oh!
Thou knowest but too well that the bonds of nature bind our hearts as
firmly as chains! But all is now alike indifferent. Dictate! I cease
to think! Artifices of hell, I yield to ye! (She resumes her seat at
the table.)
WORM. "With the vigilance of an Argus." Have you written it?
LOUISA. Proceed, proceed!
WORM. "The president was here yesterday. It was amusing to see how warm
the poor major was in defence of my honor."
LOUISA. Excellent! Excellent! Oh! Admirable! Quick! quick, go on!
WORM. "I had recourse to a swoon--a swoon--that I might not laugh
aloud"----
LOUISA. Oh, Heavens!
WORM. "But the mask which I have worn so long is becoming insupportable
--insupportable. Oh! if I could but rid myself of him."
LOUISA (rises, and walks a few turns with her head bent down, as if she
sought something upon the floor: then returns to her place, and continues
to write). "Rid myself of him."
WORM. "He will be on duty to-morrow--observe when he leaves me, and
hasten to the usual place." Have you written "the usual place?"
LOUISA. Everything, everything!
WORM. "To the usual place, to meet your devotedly attached Louisa."
LOUISA. Now then, the address?
WORM. "To Marshal von Kalb."
LOUISA. Eternal Providence! A name as foreign to my ear as these
scandalous lines are to my heart! (She rises, and for some moments
surveys the writing with a vacant gaze. At length she hands it to WORM,
speaking in a voice trembling and exhausted.) Take it, Sir! What I now
put into your hands is my good name. It is Ferdinand--it is the whole
joy of my life! You have it, and now I am a beggar----
WORM. Oh! Not so! Despair not, dear girl! You inspire me with the
most heartfelt pity! Perhaps--who knows? I might even now overlook
certain parts of your conduct--yes! Heaven is my witness, how deeply I
compassionate your sorrows!
LOUISA (giving him a piercing look). Do not explain yourself! You are
on the point of asking something more terrible than all.
WORM (attempting to kiss her hand). What if I asked this little hand?
Would that be terrible, Louisa?
LOUISA (with great indignation). Yes! for I should strangle you on the
bridal night: and for such a deed I would joyfully yield my body to be
torn on the rack! (She is going, but comes hurriedly back.) Is all
settled between us, sir? May the dove be released?
WORM. A trifle yet remains, maiden! You must swear, by the holy
sacrament, to acknowledge this letter for your free and voluntary act.
LOUISA. Oh God! Oh God! And wilt thou grant thine own seal to confirm
the works of hell? (WORM leads her away.)
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Saloon in the PRESIDENT'S House.
FERDINAND VON WALTER enters in great excitement with an open letter
in his hand, and is met by a SERVANT.
FERDINAND. Is the marshal here?
SERVANT. My lord, his highness the president is inquiring for you.
FERDINAND. Fire and fury! I ask is the marshal here?
SERVANT. His honor is engaged at the faro-table, above stairs.
FERDINAND. Tell his honor, in the name of all the devils in hell, to
make his appearance this instant!
[Exit SERVANT.
SCENE II.
FERDINAND (hastily reading the letter, at one moment seeming petrified
with astonishment, at the next pacing the room with fury). Impossible!
quite impossible! A form so heavenly cannot hide so devilish a heart.
And yet!--and yet! Though all the angels of heaven should descend on
earth and proclaim her innocence--though heaven and earth, the Creator
and the created, should, with one accord, vouch for her innocence--it is
her hand, her own hand! Treachery, monstrous, infernal treachery, such
as humanity never before witnessed! This, then, was the reason she so
resolutely opposed our flight! This it was--Oh, God! Now I awake from
my dream! Now the veil is lifted! This, then, is why she surrendered
with so much seeming heroism her claims on my affection, and all but
cheated me with her saint-like demeanor! (He traverses the chamber
rapidly, and then remains for some moments in deep thought.) To fathom
my heart to its very core! To reciprocate every lofty sentiment, every
gentle emotion, every fiery ebullition! To sympathize with every secret
breathing of my soul! To study me even in her tears! To mount with me
to the sublimest heights of passion--to brave with me, undaunted, each
fearful precipice! God of heaven! And was all this deceit? mere
grimace? Oh, if falsehood can assume so lovely an appearance of truth
why has no devil yet lied himself back into heaven?
When I unfolded to her the dangers which threatened our affection, with
what convincing artifice did the false one turn pale! With what
overpowering dignity did she repulse my father's licentious scoffs! yet
at that very moment the deceiver was conscious of her guilt! Nay, did
she not even undergo the fiery ordeal of truth? Forsooth, the hypocrite
fainted! What must now be thy language, sensibility, since coquettes
faint? How wilt thou vindicate thyself, innocence?--for even strumpets
faint?
She knows her power over me--she has seen through my very heart! My soul
shone conspicuous in my eyes at the blush of her first kiss. And that
she should have felt nothing! or perhaps felt only the triumph of her
art; whilst my happy delirium fancied that in her I embraced a whole
heaven, my wildest wishes were hushed! No thought but of her and
eternity was present to my mind. Oh, God! and yet she felt nothing?
Nothing? but that her artifice had triumphed! That her charms were
flattered! Death and vengeance! Nothing, but that I was betrayed!
SCENE III.
FERDINAND, the MARSHAL.
MARSHAL (tripping into the room). I am told, my dear baron, that you
have expressed a wish----
FERDINAND (muttering to himself). To break your rascally neck. (Aloud.)
Marshal, this letter must have dropped out of your pocket on parade.
(With a malicious smile.) And I have been the fortunate finder.
MARSHAL. You?
FERDINAND. By a singular coincidence! Now, balance thy account with
heaven!
MARSHAL. You quite alarm me, baron!
FERDINAND. Read it, sir, read it! (Turning from him.) If I am not good
enough for a lover perhaps I may do for a pimp. (While the MARSHAL
reads, FERDINAND goes to the wall and takes down the pistols.)
KALB (throws the letter upon the table, and rushes off). Confusion!
FERDINAND (leads him back by the arm). Wait a little, my dear marshal!
The intelligence contained in that letter appears to be agreeable! The
finder must have his reward. (Showing him the pistols.)
MARSHAL (starts back in alarm). Have you lost your senses, baron?
FERDINAND (in a terrible voice). I have more than enough left to rid the
world of such a scoundrel as you! Choose one of these instantly! (He
forces a pistol into the MARSHAL'S hand, and then draws out his
handkerchief.) And now take the other end of this handkerchief! It was
given me by the strumpet herself!
MARSHAL. What, shoot over the handkerchief? Baron, are you mad? What
can you be thinking of?
FERDINAND. Lay hold of it, I say! or you will be sure to miss your aim,
coward! How the coward trembles! You should thank God, you pitiful
coward, that you have a chance for once of getting something in your
empty brain-box. (The MARSHAL takes to his heels.) Gently, gently!
I'll take care of that. (Overtakes him and bolts the door.)
MARSHAL. Surely you will not fight in the chamber?
FERDINAND. As if you were worth the trouble of a walk beyond the
boundaries! The report, my dear fellow, will be louder, and, for the
first time, you will make some noise in the world. Now, then, take hold!
MARSHAL (wiping his forehead). Yet consider, I entreat. Would you risk
your precious life, young and promising as you are, in this desperate
manner?
FERDINAND. Take hold, I say! I have nothing more to do in this world!
MARSHAL. But I have much, my dearest, most excellent friend!
FERDINAND. Thou, wretch--thou? What hast thou to do, but to play the
stop-gap, where honest men keep aloof! To stretch or shrink seven times
in an instant, like the butterfly on a pin? To be privy registrar in
chief and clerk of the jordan? To be the cap-and-bell buffoon on which
your master sharpens his wit? Well, well, let it be so. I will carry you
about with me, as I would a marmot of rare training. You shall skip and
dance, like a tamed monkey, to the howling of the damned; fetch, carry,
and serve; and with your courtly arts enliven the wailings of everlasting
despair!
MARSHAL. Anything you please, dear major! Whatever you please! Only
take away the pistols!
FERDINAND. How he stands there, poor trembling wretch! There he stands,
a blot on the sixth day of creation. He looks as if he were a piratical
counterfeit of the Almighty original. Pity, eternal pity! that an atom
of brains should lie wasting in so barren a skull! That single atom
bestowed upon a baboon might have made him a perfect man, whereas it is
now a mere useless fragment. And that she should share her heart with a
thing like this! Monstrous! Incredible! A wretch more formed to wean
from sin than to excite it!
MARSHAL. Praised be Heaven! he is getting witty.
FERDINAND. I will let him live! That toleration which spares the
caterpillar shall be extended to him! Men shall look on him in wonder,
and, shrugging their shoulders, admire the wise dispensation of
Providence, which can feed its creatures with husks and scourings; which
spreads the table for the raven on the gallows, and for the courtier in
the slime of majesty. We wonder at the wisdom of Providence, which even
in the world of spirits maintains its staff of venomous reptiles for the
dissemination of poison. (Relapsing into rage.) But such vermin shall
not pollute my rose; sooner will I crush it to atoms (seizing the MARSHAL
and shaking him roughly), thus--and thus--and thus----
MARSHAL. Oh! God, that I were away from here! hundreds of miles away in
the asylum for maniacs at Paris! Anywhere but near this man!
FERDINAND. Villain! If she be no longer pure! Villain! If thou hast
profaned where I worshipped! (with increased fury). If thou hast
polluted, where I believed myself the god! (Pausing suddenly; then in a
solemn terrible voice.) It were better for thee, villain, to flee to
hell, than to encounter my wrath in heaven! Confess! To what extent has
your unhallowed love proceeded?
MARSHAL. Let me go! I will confess everything.
FERDINAND. Oh! it must be more rapturous even to be her licentious
paramour than to burn with the purest flame for any other! Would she
surrender her charms to unlicensed pleasure she might dissolve the soul
itself to sin, and make voluptuousness pass for virtue (pressing his
pistol against the MARSHAL'S breast). To what extremities have you
proceeded? Confess this instant or I fire!
MARSHAL. There is nothing at all in it, I assure you! There is not a
syllable of truth in the whole business! Have but a moment's patience!
You are deceived, indeed you are!
FERDINAND (furiously). And dare you remind me of that, villain? To what
extremities have you proceeded? Confess, or you are a dead man!
MARSHAL. Mon Dieu! My God! You mistake my words! Only listen for a
moment. When a father----
FERDINAND (still more enraged). No doubt! He threw his daughter into
your arms? And how far have you proceeded? Confess, or I will murder
you!
MARSHAL. You rave! You will not listen! I never saw her! I don't know
her! I know nothing at all about her!
FERDINAND (drawing back). You never saw her? You don't know her? Know
nothing at all about her? Louisa is lost to me forever on thy account,
and yet in one breath hast thou denied her thrice. Go, wretch, go (he
gives him a blow with the pistol, and thrusts him out of the chamber);
powder were thrown away on such a miscreant.
[Exit MARSHAL.
SCENE IV.
FERDINAND (after a long silence, during which his countenance declares
him to be agitated by some dreadful idea). Forever lost? Yes, false
unfortunate, both are lost! Ay, by the Almighty God! if I am lost, thou
art so too. Judge of the world, ask her not from me! She is mine. For
her sake I renounced the whole world--abandoned all thy glorious
creation. Leave me the maid, great Judge of the world! Millions of
souls pour out their plaints to thee--turn on them thine eye of
compassion, but leave me, Almighty Judge--leave me to myself. (Clasping
his hands in agony.) Can the bountiful, the munificent Creator be
covetous of one miserable soul, and that soul the worst of his creation?
The maiden is mine! Once I was her god, but now I am her devil!
(Fixes his eyes with terrible expression.)
An eternity passed with her upon the rack of everlasting perdition! Her
melting eye-balls riveted on mine! Our blazing locks entwined together!
Our shrieks of agony dissolving into one! And then to renew to her my
vows of love, and chant unceasingly her broken oaths! God! God! The
union is dreadful--and eternal! (As he is about to rush off, the
PRESIDENT meets him.)
SCENE V.
FERDINAND, the PRESIDENT.
FERDINAND (starting back). Ha! my father.
PRESIDENT. I am glad to meet with you, Ferdinand! I come to bring you
some pleasant news--something that will certainly surprise you, my dear
son. Shall we be seated?
FERDINAND (after gazing upon him for some time with a vacant stare). My
father! (Going to him with emotion, and grasping his hand.) My father!
(Kissing it, and falling at his feet.) Oh, father!
PRESIDENT. What is the matter? Rise, my son. Your hand burns and
trembles!
FERDINAND (wildly). Forgive my ingratitude, father! I am a lost man! I
have misinterpreted your kindness! Your meaning was so truly--truly
paternal! Oh! you had a prophetic soul! Now it is too late! Pardon!
pardon! Your blessing, my dear father!
PRESIDENT (feigning astonishment). Arise, my son! Recollect that your
words to me are riddles!
FERDINAND. This Louisa, dear father! Oh! You understand mankind! Your
anger was so just, so noble, so truly the zeal of a father! had not its
very earnestness led you to mistake the way. This Louisa!
PRESIDENT. Spare me, dear boy! Curses on my severity! come to entreat
your forgiveness----
FERDINAND. Forgiveness from me! Curse me rather. Your disapproval was
wisdom! Your severity was heavenly mercy! This Louisa, father----
PRESIDENT. Is a noble, a lovely girl! I recall my too rash suspicions!
She has won my entire esteem!
FERDINAND (starting up). What? You, too? Father, even you? And is she
not, father, the very personification of innocence? And is it not so
natural to love this maiden?
PRESIDENT. Say, rather, 'twere a crime not to love her.
FERDINAND. Incredible! wonderful! And you, too, who can so thoroughly
see through the heart! And you, who saw her faults with the eyes of
hatred! Oh, unexampled hypocrisy! This Louisa, father!
PRESIDENT. Is worthy to be my daughter! Her virtues supply the want of
ancestry, her beauty the want of fortune. My prudential maxims yield to
the force of your attachment. Louisa shall be yours!
FERDINAND. Naught but this wanting! Father, farewell! (Rushes out of
the apartment.)
PRESIDENT (following him). Stay, my son, stay! Whither do you fly?
SCENE VI.--A magnificent Saloon in LADY MILFORD'S House.
Enter LADY MILFORD and SOPHIA.
LADY MILFORD. You have seen her then? Will she come?
SOPHIA. Yes, in a moment! She was in dishabille, and only requested
time to change her dress.
LADY MILFORD. Speak not of her. Silence! I tremble like a criminal at
the prospect of beholding that fortunate woman whose heart sympathizes
thus cruelly with my own. And how did she receive my invitation?
SOPHIA. She seemed surprised, became thoughtful, fixed her eyes on me
steadfastly, and for a while remained silent. I was already prepared for
her excuses, when she returned me this answer with a look that quite
astonished me; "Tell your mistress that she commands what I myself
intended to request to-morrow."
LADY MILFORD. Leave me, Sophia! Pity me! I must blush if she is but an
ordinary woman--despair if she is more!
SOPHIA. But, my lady! it is not in this spirit that a rival should be
received! Remember who you are! Summon to your aid your birth, your
rank, your power! A prouder soul should heighten the gorgeous splendor
of your appearance.
LADY MILFORD (in a fit of absence). What is the simpleton babbling
about?
SOPHIA (maliciously). Or, is it, perhaps, by chance that to-day, in
particular, you are adorned with your most costly brilliants? by chance
that you are to-day arrayed in your most sumptuous robes? that your
antechamber is crowded with guards and pages; and that the tradesman's
daughter is to be received in the most stately apartment of the palace?
LADY MILFORD (angry and nettled). This is outrageous! Insupportable!
Oh that woman should have such argus-eyes for woman's weakness! How low,
how irretrievably low must I have fallen when such a creature has power
to fathom me!
LADY MILFORD, SOPHIA, a SERVANT.
SERVANT (entering). Ma'mselle Miller waits.
LADY MILFORD (to SOPHIA). Hence with you! Leave the room instantly!
(Imperiously, as the latter hesitates.) Must I repeat my orders?
(SOPHIA retires--LADY MILFORD takes a few turns hastily.) So; 'tis well
that I have been excited! I am in the fitter mood for this meeting. (To
the SERVANT.) Let her approach.
[Exit SERVANT. LADY MILFORD throws herself upon the sofa,
and assumes a negligent but studied attitude.
SCENE VII.
LADY MILFORD, LOUISA.
LOUISA enters timidly, and remains standing at a great distance
from LADY MILFORD, who has turned her back towards her, and for
some time watches her attentively in the opposite looking-glass.
After a pause-----
LOUISA. Noble lady, I await your commands.
LADY MILFORD (turning towards LOUISA, and making a slight and distant
motion with her head.) Oh! Are you there? I presume the young lady--a
certain----. Pray what is your name?
LOUISA (somewhat sensitively). My father's name is Miller. Your
ladyship expressed a wish to see his daughter.
LADY MILFORD. True, true! I remember. The poor musician's daughter, of
whom we were speaking the other day. (Aside, after a pause.) Very
interesting, but no beauty! (To LOUISA.) Come nearer, my child. (Again
aside.) Eyes well practised in weeping. Oh! How I love those eyes!
(Aloud.) Nearer--come nearer! Quite close! I really think, my good
child, that you are afraid of me!
LOUISA (with firmness and dignity). No, my lady--I despise the opinion
of the multitude!
LADY MILFORD (aside). Well, to be sure! She has learnt this boldness
from him. (To LOUISA.) You have been recommended to me, miss! I am
told that you have been decently educated, and are well disposed. I can
readily believe it; besides, I would not, for the world, doubt the word
of so warm an advocate.
LOUISA. And yet I remember no one, my lady, who would be at the trouble
to seek your ladyship's patronage for me!
LADY MILFORD (significantly). Does that imply my unworthiness, or your
humility?
LOUISA. Your words are beyond my comprehension, lady.
LADY MILFORD. More cunning than I should have expected from that open
countenance. (To LOUISA.) Your name is Louisa, I believe? May I
inquire your age?
LOUISA. Sixteen, just turned.
LADY MILFORD (starting up). Ha! There it is! Sixteen! The first
pulsation of love! The first sweet vibration upon the yet unsounded
harp! Nothing is more fascinating. (To LOUISA.) Be seated, lovely
girl--I am anxious about you. (To herself.) And he, too, loves for the
first time! What wonder, if the ruddy morning beams should meet and
blend? (To LOUISA, taking her hand affectionately.) 'Tis settled: I
will make your fortune. (To herself.) Oh! there is nothing in it:
nothing, but the sweet transient vision of youth! (To LOUISA, patting
her on the cheek.) My Sophy is on the point of leaving me to be married:
you shall have her place. But just sixteen? Oh! it can never last.
LOUISA (kissing her hand respectfully). Receive my thanks, lady, for
your intended favors, and believe me not the less grateful though I may
decline to accept them.
LADY MILFORD (relapsing into disdain and anger). Only hear the great
lady! Girls of your station generally think themselves fortunate to
obtain such promotion. What is your dependence, my dainty one? Are
these fingers too delicate for work?--or is it your pretty baby-face that
makes you give yourself these airs?
LOUISA. My face, lady, is as little of my own choice as my station!
LADY MILFORD. Perhaps you believe that your beauty will last forever?
Poor creature! Whoever put that into your head--be he who he may--has
deceived both you and himself! The colors of those cheeks are not burnt
in with fire: what your mirror passes off upon you as solid and enduring
is but a slight tinselling, which, sooner or later, will rub off in the
hands of the purchaser. What then, will you do?
LOUISA. Pity the purchaser, lady, who bought a diamond because it
appeared to be set in gold.
LADY MILFORD (affecting not to hear her). A damsel of your age has ever
two mirrors, the real one, and her admirer. The flattering complaisance
of the latter counterbalances the rough honesty of the former. What the
one proclaims frightful pock-marks, the other declares to be dimples that
would adorn the Graces. The credulous maid believes only so much of the
former as is confirmed by the latter, and hies from one to the other till
she confounds their testimonies, and concludes by fancying them to be
both of one opinion. Why do you stare at me so?
LOUISA. Pardon me, lady! I was just then pitying those gorgeous
sparkling brilliants, which are unconscious that their possessor is so
strenuous a foe to vanity.
LADY MILFORD (reddening). No evasion, miss. Were it not that you depend
upon personal attractions, what in the world could induce you to reject a
situation, the only one where you can acquire polish of manners and
divest yourself of your plebeian prejudices?
LOUISA. And with them, I presume, my plebeian innocence!
LADY MILFORD. Preposterous objection! The most dissolute libertine
dares not to disrespect our sex, unless we ourselves encourage him by
advances. Prove what you are; make manifest your virtue and honor, and I
will guarantee your innocence from danger.
LOUISA. Of that, lady, permit me to entertain a doubt! The palaces of
certain ladies are but too often made a theatre for the most unbridled
licentiousness. Who will believe that a poor musician's daughter could
have the heroism to plunge into the midst of contagion and yet preserve
herself untainted? Who will believe that Lady Milford would perpetually
hold a scorpion to her breast, and lavish her wealth to purchase the
advantage of every moment feeling her cheeks dyed with the crimson blush
of shame? I will be frank, lady!--while I adorned you for some
assignation, could you meet my eye unabashed? Could you endure my glance
when you returned? Oh! better, far better, would it be that oceans
should roll between us--that we should inhabit different climes! Beware,
my lady!--hours of temperance, moments of satiety might intrude; the
gnawing worm of remorse might plant its sting in your bosom, and then
what a torment would it be for you to read in the countenance of your
handmaid that calm serenity with which virtue ever rewards an uncorrupted
heart! (Retiring a few steps.) Once more, gracious lady, I entreat your
pardon!
LADY MILFORD (extremely agitated). Insupportable, that she should tell
me this! Still more insupportable, that what she tells is true!
(Turning to LOUISA, and looking at her steadfastly.) Girl! girl! this
artifice does not blind me. Mere opinions do not speak out so warmly.
Beneath the cloak of these sentiments lurks some far dearer interest.
'Tis that which makes my service particularly distasteful--which gives
such energy to your language. (In a threatening voice.) What it is I am
determined to discover.
LOUISA (with calm dignity). And what if you do discover it? Suppose the
contemptuous trampling of your foot should rouse the injured worm, which
its Creator has furnished with a sting to protect it against misusage. I
fear not your vengeance, lady! The poor criminal extended on the rack
can look unappalled even on the dissolution of the world. My misery is
so exquisite that even sincerity cannot draw down upon me any further
infliction! (After a pause.) You say that you would raise me from the
obscurity of my station. I will not examine the motives of this
suspicious favor. I will only ask, what could induce you to think me so
foolish as to blush at my station? What could induce you to become the
architect of my happiness, before you knew whether I was willing to
receive that happiness at your hands? I had forever renounced all claims
upon the pleasures of the world. I had forgiven fortune that she had
dealt with me so niggardly. Ah! why do you remind me of all this. If
the Almighty himself hides his glory from the eyes of his creatures, lest
the highest seraph should be overwhelmed by a sense of his own
insignificance, why should mortals be so cruelly compassionate? Lady,
lady! why is your vaunted happiness so anxious to excite the envy and
wonder of the wretched? Does your bliss stand in need of the exhibition
of despair for entertainment? Oh! rather grant me that blindness which
alone can reconcile me to my barbarous lot! The insect feels itself as
happy in a drop of water as though that drop was a paradise: so happy,
and so contented! till some one tells it of a world of water, where
navies ride and whales disport themselves! But you wish to make me
happy, say you? (After a pause, she advances towards LADY MILFORD, and
asks her suddenly.) Are you happy, lady? (LADY MILFORD turns from her
hastily, and overpowered. LOUISA follows her, and lays her hand upon her
bosom.) Does this heart wear the smile of its station? Could we now
exchange breast for breast, and fate for fate--were I, in childlike
innocence, to ask you on your conscience--were I to ask you as a mother--
would you really counsel me to make the exchange?
LADY MILFORD (greatly excited, throwing herself on the sofa).
Intolerable! Incomprehensible! No, Louisa, no! This greatness of
thought is not your own, and your conceptions are too fiery, too full of
youth, to be inspired by your father. Deceive me not! I detect another
teacher----
LOUISA (looking piercingly at her). I cannot but wonder, my lady, that
you should have only just discovered that other teacher, and yet have
previously shown so much anxiety to patronize me!
LADY MILFORD (starting up). 'Tis not to be borne! Well, then, since I
cannot escape you, I know him--know everything--know more than I wish to
know! (Suddenly restraining herself, then continuing with a violence
which by degrees increases to frenzy.) But dare, unhappy one!--dare but
still to love, or be beloved by him! What did I say? Dare but to think
of him, or to be one of his thoughts! I am powerful, unhappy one!--
dreadful in my vengeance! As sure as there is a God in heaven thou art
lost forever!
LOUISA (undaunted). Past all redemption, my lady, the moment you succeed
in compelling him to love you!
LADY MILFORD. I understand you--but I care not for his love! I will
conquer this disgraceful passion. I will torture my own heart; but thine
will I crush to atoms! Rocks and chasms will I hurl between you. I will
rush, like a fury, into the heaven of your joys. My name shall affright
your loves as a spectre scares an assassin. That young and blooming form
in his embrace shall wither to a skeleton. I cannot be blest with him--
neither shalt thou. Know, wretched girl; that to blast the happiness of
others is in itself a happiness!
LOUISA. A happiness, my lady, which is already beyond your reach! Seek
not to deceive your own heart! You are incapable of executing what you
threaten! You are incapable of torturing a being who has done you no
wrong--but whose misfortune it is that her feelings have been sensible to
impressions like your own. But I love you for these transports, my lady!
LADY MILFORD (recovering herself). Where am I? What have I done? What
sentiments have I betrayed? To whom have I betrayed them? Oh, Louisa,
noble, great, divine soul, forgive the ravings of a maniac! Fear not, my
child! I will not injure a hair of thy head! Name thy wishes! Ask what
thou wilt! I will serve thee with all my power; I will be thy friend--
thy sister! Thou art poor; look (taking off her brilliants), I will sell
these jewels--sell my wardrobe--my carriages and horses--all shall be
thine--grant me but Ferdinand!
LOUISA (draws back indignantly). Does she mock my despair?--or is she
really innocent of participation in that cruel deed? Ha! then I may yet
assume the heroine, and make my surrender of him pass for a sacrifice!
(Remains for a while absorbed in thought, then approaches LADY MILFORD,
seizes her hand, and gazes on her with a fixed and significant look.)
Take him, lady! I here voluntarily resign the man whom hellish arts have
torn from my bleeding bosom! Perchance you know it not, my lady! but you
have destroyed the paradise of two lovers; you have torn asunder two
hearts which God had linked together; you have crushed a creature not
less dear to him than yourself, and no less created for happiness; one by
whom he was worshipped as sincerely as by you; but who, henceforth, will
worship him no more. But the Almighty is ever open to receive the last
groan of the trampled worm. He will not look on with indifference when
creatures in his keeping are murdered. Now Ferdinand is yours. Take
him, lady, take him! Rush into his arms! Drag him with you to the
altar! But forget not that the spectre of a suicide will rush between
you and the bridal kiss. God be merciful! No choice is left me!
(Rushes out of the chamber.)
SCENE VIII.
LADY MILFORD alone, in extreme agitation, gazing on the door by
which LOUISA left. At length she recovers from her stupor.
LADY MILFORD. What was that? What preys so on my heart? What said the
unhappy one? Still, O heaven, the dreadful, damning words ring in my
ears! "Take him! Take him!" What should I take, unfortunate? the
bequest of your dying groan--the fearful legacy of your despair?
Gracious heaven! am I then fallen so low? Am I so suddenly hurled from
the towering throne of my pride that I greedily await what a beggar's
generosity may throw me in the last struggle of death? "Take him! Take
him!" And with what a tone was it uttered!--with what a look! What!
Amelia! is it for this thou hast overleaped the bounds of thy sex? For
this didst thou vaunt the glorious title of a free-born Briton, that thy
boasted edifice of honor might sink before the nobler soul of a despised
and lowly maiden? No, proud unfortunate! No! Amelia Milford may blush
for shame,--but shall never be despised. I, too, have courage to resign.
(She walks a few paces with a majestic gait.) Hide thyself, weak,
suffering woman! Hence, ye sweet and golden dreams of love! Magnanimity
alone be now my guide. These lovers are lost, or Amelia must withdraw
her claim, and renounce the prince's heart. (After a pause, with
animation.) It is determined! The dreadful obstacle is removed--broken
are the bonds which bound me to the duke--torn from my bosom this raging
passion. Virtue, into thy arms I throw myself. Receive thy repentant
daughter. Ha! how happy do I feel! How suddenly relieved my heart, and
how exalted! Glorious as the setting sun, will I this day descend from
the pinnacle of my greatness; my grandeur shall expire with my love, and
my own heart be the only sharer of my proud exile! (Going to her
writing-table with a determined air.) It must be done at once--now, on
the spot--before the recollection of Ferdinand renews the cruel conflict
in my bosom! (She seats herself, and begins to write).
SCENE IX.
LADY MILFORD, an ATTENDANT, SOPHIA, afterwards the MARSHAL,
and then SERVANTS.
SERVANT. Marshal von Kalb is in the ante-chamber, and brings a message
from his highness.
LADY MILFORD (not hearing him in the eagerness of writing). How the
illustrious puppet will stare! The idea is singular enough, I own, the
presuming to astonish his serene numskull. In what confusion will his
court be thrown! The whole country will be in a ferment.
SERVANT and SOPHIA. Marshal von Kalb, my lady!
LADY MILFORD (turning round). Who? the marshal? So much the better!
Such creatures were designed by nature to carry the ass' panniers.
[Exit SERVANT.
SOPHIA (approaching anxiously). If I were not fearful, my lady, that you
would think it presumption. (LADY MILFORD continuing to write eagerly.)
Louisa Miller rushed madly to the hall--you are agitated--you speak to
yourself. (LADY MILFORD continues writing.) I am quite alarmed. What
can have happened? (The MARSHAL enters, making repeated bows at LADY
MILFORD'S back; as she takes no notice of him, he comes nearer, stands
behind her chair, touches the hem of her dress, and imprints a kiss on
it, saying in a tremulous voice.) His serene highness----
LADY MILFORD (while she peruses hastily what she has written). He will
tax me with black ingratitude! "I was poor and forsaken! He raised me
from misery! From misery." Detestable exchange! Annul my bond,
seducer! The blush of my eternal shame repays my debt with interest.
MARSHAL (after endeavoring in vain to catch her eye). Your ladyship
seems somewhat absent. I take the liberty of permitting myself the
boldness (very loud)--his serene highness, my lady, has sent me to
inquire whether you mean to honor this evening's gala with your presence,
or the theatre?
