Or count (or whatsoe'er this half-drown'd noble May be), for whom this desolate village and Its lone inhabitants show more respect Than did the elements, is come. Iden. [without]. This way- This way, your excellency :-have a care, The staircase is a little gloomy, and Somewhat decay'd; but if we had expected So high a guest-pray take my arm, my lord!
Enter STRALENHEIM, IDENSTEIN, and Attendants- partly his own, and partly Retainers of the Do- main of which IDENSTEIN is Intendant. Stral. I'll rest me here a moment. Iden. [to the servants]. Instantly, knaves!
Ho! a chair! [STRALENHEIM sits down.
I'm better now.
Please you, my good lord,
One says he is no stranger. Wer. [aloud and hastily]. Who says that? [They look at him with surprise. Iden. Why, no one spoke of you or to you!-but Here's one his excellency may be pleased To recognise. Gab.
[Pointing to GABOR. I seek not to disturb
This is one of the strangers to whose aid I owe my rescue. Is not that the other? [Pointing to WERNER. My state when I was succour'd must excuse My uncertainty to whom I owe so much. Iden. He!-no, my lord! he rather wants for
At Hamburgh those who would have made assur
If this be he or no? I thought, ere now, To have been lord of Siegendorf, and parted In haste, though even the elements appear To fight against me, and this sudden flood May keep me prisoner here till- [He pauses and looks at WERNER; then resumes.
This man must Be watch'd. If it is he, he is so changed, His father, rising from his grave again, Would pass him by unknown. I must be wary: An error would spoil all. Iden. Your lordship seems Pensive. Will it not please you to pass on? Stral. 'Tis past fatigue, which gives my weigh'd- down spirit
An outward show of thought. I will to rest. Iden. The prince's chamber is prepared, with all
The very furniture the prince used when Last here, in its full splendour.
[Aside.] Somewhat tatter'd, And devilish damp, but fine enough by torchlight;
And that's enough for your right noble blood Of twenty quarterings upon a hatchment; So let their bearer sleep 'neath something like
An Atten. My lord, he tarried in the cottage Both from the walls. I am not used to answer
Your excellency rested for an hour, And said he would be here to-morrow.
Stral. That hour arrives, I can but offer thanks, And then-
Gab. I seek no more, and scarce deserve So much. My comrade may speak for himself. Stral. [fixing his eyes upon WERNER: then aside]. It cannot be! and yet he must be look'd to. 'Tis twenty years since I beheld him with
These eyes; and, though my agents still have kept Theirs on him policy has held aloof My own from his, not to alarm him into Suspicion of my plan. Why did I leave
The same unknown and humble stranger, if He wishes to remain so to the man Who can have nought in common with him. Stral.
Sir, I will not balk your humour, though untoward: I only meant you service-but good night! Intendant, show the way! [To GABOR.] Sir, you will with me?
[Exeunt STRALENHEIM and Attendants, IDEN- STEIN, and GABOR.
Wer. [solus]. 'Tis he! I am taken in the toils. Before
I quitted Hamburgh, Giulio, his late steward, Inform'd me that he had obtain❜d an order From Brandenburg's elector, for the arrest Of Kruitzner (such the name I then bore) when I came upon the frontier; the free city Alone preserved my freedom-till I left Its walls-fool that I was to quit them! But I deem'd this humble garb, and route obscure, Had baffled the slow hounds in their pursuit. What's to be done? He knows me not by person; Nor could aught, save the eye of apprehension, Have recognised him, after twenty years, We met so rarely and so coldly in
Our youth. But those about him! Now I can Divine the frankness of the Hungarian, who No doubt is a mere tool and spy of Stralenheim's, To sound and to secure me. Without means! Sick, poor-begirt, too, with the flooding rivers, Impassable even to the wealthy, with All the appliances which purchase modes Of overpowering peril, with men's lives,- How can I hope? An hour ago, methought My state beyond despair; and now, 'tis such The past seems paradise. Another day And I'm detected,-on the very eve Of honours, rights, and my inheritance, When a few drops of gold might save me still In favouring an escape.
Enter IDENSTEIN and FRITZ in conversation. Fritz. Immediately. Iden. I tell you, 'tis impossible.
An hour is past, I'll do my best to serve him. Fritz. Remember! [Exit FRITZ. Iden. The devil take these great men! they Think all things made for them. Now here must I
Rouse up some half a dozen shivering vassals From their scant pallets, and, at peril of Their lives, despatch them o'er the river towards Frankfort. Methinks the baron's own experience Some hours ago might teach him fellow-feeling: But no, “it must," and there's an end. How now? Are you there, Mynheer Werner? Wer.
Your noble guest right quickly. Iden.
And seems to like that none should sleep besides. Here is a packet for the commandant Of Frankfort, at all risks and all expenses; But I must not lose time: Good night! Wer.
So, so, it thickens! Ay, "the commandant." This tallies well with all the prior steps Of this cool, calculating fiend, who walks Between me and my father's house. No doubt He writes for a detachment to convey me Into some secret fortress.--Sooner than This-
[WERNER looks around, and snatches up a knife lying on a table in a recess. Now I am master of myself at least. Hark,-footsteps! How do I know that Stralenheim
Will wait for even the show of that authority Which is to overshadow usurpation? That he suspects me's certain. I'm alone; He with a numerous train. I weak; he strong In gold, in numbers, rank, authority.
I nameless, or involving in my name Destruction, till I reach my own domain; He full-blown with his titles, which impose Still further on these obscure petty burghers Than they could do elsewhere.
I'll to the secret passage which communicates With the No! all is silent-'twas my fancy!— Still as the breathless interval between
The flash and thunder :-I must hush my soul Amidst its perils. Yet I will retire,
To see if still be unexplored the passage
I wot of it will serve me as a den
Of secrecy for some hours, at the worst.
[WERNER draws a panel, and exit, closing it after him.
What can there be in common with the proud And wealthy baron, and the unknown Werner? Gab. That you know best. Jos.
Or, if it were so, how Come you to stir yourself in his behalf, Rather than that of him whose life you saved?
Gab. I help'd to save him, as in peril; but I did not pledge myself to serve him in Oppression. I know well these nobles, and Their thousand modes of trampling on the poor. I have proved them; and my spirit boils up when I find them practising against the weak :This is my only motive.
It would be Not easy to persuade my consort of Your good intentions.
Jos. He was not once; but time and troubles have
Made him what you beheld. Gab. I'm sorry for it. Suspicion is a heavy armour, and With its own weight impedes more than protects. Good night! I trust to meet with him at daybreak. [Erit. Re-enter IDENSTEIN and some Peasants. JOSEPHINE retires up the Hall.
First Peasant. But if I'm drown'd? Iden. Why, you will be well paid for't, And have risk'd more than drowning for as much, I doubt not.
Second Peasant. But our wives and families? Iden. Cannot be worse off than they are, and
A soldier. I'll promote you to the ranks In the prince's body-guard-if you succeed: And you shall have besides, in sparkling coin, Two thalers.
Third Peasant. No more! Iden. Out upon your avarice! Can that low vice alloy so much ambition? I tell thee, fellow, that two thalers in Small change will subdivide into a treasure. Do not five hundred thousand heroes daily Risk lives and souls for the tithe of one thaler?
When had you half the sum ?
Third Peasant.
The less I must have three.
Whose vassal you were born, knave?
Third Peasant. And not the stranger's.
Iden. Sirrah! in the prince's Absence, I am sovereign, and the baron is My intimate connection;-" Cousin Idenstein! (Quoth he) you'll order out a dozen villains." And so, you villains! troop-march-march, I say; And if a single dog's ear of this packet Be sprinkled by the Oder-look to it! For every page of paper, shall a hide
Of yours be stretch'd as parchment on a drum, Like Ziska's skin, to beat alarm to all Refractory vassals, who cannot effect Impossibilities.-Away, ye earth-worms! [Exit, driving them out. Jos. [coming forward]. I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated,
Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims ;
I cannot aid, and will not witness such. Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot, The dimmest in the district's map, exist The insolence of wealth in poverty
O'er something poorer still-the pride of rank In servitude, o'er something still more servile; And vice in misery affecting still
A tatter'd splendour. What a state of being! In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land, Our nobles were but citizens and merchants, Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb Was in itself a meal, and every vine Rain'd, as it were, the beverage which makes glad The heart of man; and the neʼer unfelt sun (But rarely clouded, and when clouded, leaving His warmth behind in memory of his beams) Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe, less Oppressive than an emperor's jewell'd purple. But here! the despots of the north appear To imitate the ice wind of their clime, Searching the shivering vassal through his rags, To wring his soul-as the bleak elements His form. And 'tis to be amongst those sovereigns My husband pants! and such his pride of birth— That twenty years of usage, such as no Father born in a humble state could nerve His soul to persecute his son withal, Hath changed no atom of his early nature; But I, born nobly also, from my father's Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father! May thy long-tried and now rewarded spirit Look down on us, and our so long desired Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me! What's that? Thou, Werner! can it be? and thus?
Jos. Alas, that I should doubt of thee!
A Hall in the same Palace.
Enter IDENSTEIN and others.
Iden. Fine doings! goodly doings! honest doings! A baron pillaged in a prince's palace! Where, till this hour, such a sin ne'er was heard of.
Fritz. It hardly could, unless the rats despoil'd The mice of a few shreds of tapestry.
Iden. Oh! that I e'er should live to see this day! The honour of our city's gone for ever. Fritz. Well, but now to discover the delin- quent :
The baron is determined not to lose This sum without a search.
Fritz. But whom do you suspect? Iden.
Suspect all people! Without-within-above - below - Heaven help nie!
Fritz. Is there no other entrance to the chamber? Iden. None whatsoever. Fritz.
Are you sure of that? Iden. Certain. I have lived and served here since my birth,
And if there were such, must have heard of such, Or seen it.
To fish the baron from the Oder. Iden. Unlikely. But, hold-might it not have been One of the suite ?
But some of the inferior knaves. You say The baron was asleep in the great chair— The velvet chair-in his embroider'd night-gown ; His toilet spread before him, and upon it A cabinet with letters, papers, and Several rouleaux of gold; of which one only Has disappear'd :-the door unbolted, with No difficult access to any.
Be not so quick; the honour of the corps Which forms the baron's household's unimpeach'd From steward to scullion, save in the fair way Of peculation; such as in accompts,
Weights, measures, larder, cellar, buttery, Where all men take their prey; as also in Postage of letters, gathering of rents, Purveying feasts, and understanding with The honest trades who furnish noble masters; But for your petty, picking, downright thievery, We scorn it as we do board-wages. Then Had one of our folks done it, he would not Have been so poor a spirit as to hazard His neck for one rouleau, but have swoop'd all ; Also the cabinet, if portable.
Iden. There is some sense in that Fritz. No, sir, to be sure 'Twas none of our corps; but some petty, trivial Picker and stealer, without art or genius. The only question is-Who else could have Access, save the Hungarian and yourself. Iden. You don't mean me? Fritz. Your talents- Iden.
No, sir; I honour more And my principles, I hope. Fritz. Of course. But to the point: What's to
Iden. Nothing-but there's a good deal to be
We'll offer a reward; move heaven and earth, And the police (though there's none nearer than Frankfort); post notices in manuscript (For we've no printer); and set by my clerk To read them (for few can, save he and I); We'll send out villains to strip beggars, and Search empty pockets; also to arrest All gipsies, and ill-clothed and sallow people. Prisoners we'll have at least, if not the culprit ; And for the baron's gold-if 'tis not found, At least he shall have the full satisfaction as a miser. Of melting twice its substance in the raising The ghost of this rouleau. Here's alchemy For your lord's losses!
Fritz. Then it must be some one who Had access to the antechamber.
Fritz. Oh, yes; but he has disappear'd Long from the world's eye, and perhaps the world. A prodigal son beneath his father's ban For the last twenty years: for whom his sire Refused to kill the fatted calf; and, therefore, If living, he must chew the husks still. But The baron would find means to silence him, Were he to re-appear: he's politic,
And has much influence with a certain court. Iden. He's fortunate. Fritz. "Tis true there is a grandson, Whom the late count reclaim'd from his son's hands And educated as his heir; but then His birth is doubtful. Iden. Fritz.
His sire made A left-hand, love, imprudent sort of marriage, With an Italian exile's dark-eyed daughter: Noble, they say, too; but no match for such A house as Siegendorf's. The grandsire ill Could brook the alliance; and could ne'er be brought To see the parents, though he took the son.
Iden. If he's a lad of mettle, he may yet Dispute your claim, and weave a web that may Puzzle your baron to unravel.
For mettle, he has quite enough: they say, He forms a happy mixture of his sire And grandsire's qualities,-impetuous as The former, and deep as the latter; but The strangest is, that he too disappear'd Some months ago.
It must have been at his suggestion, at An hour so critical as was the eve
Or tame the tiger, though their infancy Were fed on milk and honey. After all, Your Wallenstein, your Tilly and Gustavus, Your Bannier, and your Torstenson and Weimar, Were but the same things upon a grand scale; And now that they are gone, and peace proclaim'd, They who would follow the same pastime must Pursue it on their own account. Here comes The baron, and the Saxon stranger, who Was his chief aid in yesterday's escape, But did not leave the cottage by the Oder Until this morning.
Enter STRALENHEIM and ULRIC. Stral. Since you have refused All compensation, gentle stranger, save Inadequate thanks, you almost check even them, Making me feel the worthlessness of words, And blush at my own barren gratitude, They seem so niggardly, compared with what Your courteous courage did in my behalf-
Ulr. I pray you press the theme no further. Stral.
Can I not serve you? You are young, and of That mould which throws out heroes; fair in favour; Brave, I know, by my living now to say so; And doubtlessly with such a form and heart Would look into the fiery eyes of war, As ardently for glory as you dared
An obscure death to save an unknown stranger, In an as perilous, but opposite, element. You are made for the service: I have served; Have rank by birth and soldiership, and friends, Who shall be yours. "Tis true this pause of peace Favours such views at present scantily;
But 'twill not last, men's spirits are too stirring; Why, yes: And, after thirty years of conflict, peace Is but a petty war, as the times show us In every forest, or a mere arm'd truce. War will reclaim his own; and, in the meantime, You might obtain a post, which would insure A higher soon, and, by my influence, fail not To rise. I speak of Brandenburg, wherein I stand well with the Elector; in Bohemia, Like you, I am a stranger, and we are now Upon its frontier.
Of the old man's death, whose heart was broken by it. Iden. Was there no cause assign'd? Fritz. Plenty, no doubt, And none, perhaps, the true one. Some averr'd It was to seek his parents; some because The old man held his spirit in so strictly (But that could scarce be, for he doted on him); À third believed he wish'd to serve in war, But peace being made soon after his departure, He might have since return'd, were that the motive; A fourth set charitably have surmised,
As there was something strange and mystic in him, That in the wild exuberance of his nature He had join'd the black bands who lay waste Lusatia, The mountains of Bohemia and Silesia, Since the last years of war has dwindled into A kind of general condottiero system
Of bandit warfare; each troop with its chief, And all against mankind.
A young heir, bred to wealth and luxury, To risk his life and honours with disbanded Soldiers and desperadoes!
You perceive my garb Is Saxon, and of course my service due To my own sovereign. If I must decline Your offer, 'tis with the same feeling which Induced it. Stral.
Why, this is mere usury!
I owe my life to you, and you refuse The acquittance of the interest of the debt, To heap more obligations on me, till I bow beneath them.
I claim the payment. Stral.
You are nobly born? Ulr.
Well, sir, since you will not
I have heard my kinsmen say so. Stral. Your actions show it. Might I ask your name? Ulr. Ulric.
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