One of those beings to whom Fortune bends,
As she doth to the daring-and on whom
The fates of others oft depend; besides,
An indescribable sensation drew me
Near to this man, as if my point of fortune
Was to be fix'd by him -There I was wrong.
Sieg. And may not be right now.
Gab.
I follow'd him,
Solicited his notice-and obtain'd it-
Though not his friendship :-it was his intention
To leave the city privately-we left it
Together-and together we arrived
In the poor town where Werner was conceal'd,
And Stralenheim was succour'd- -Now we are
The verge dare you hear further? [on
Sieg
Or I have heard too much.
But he was all alone?
You saw none else? You did not see the-
[He pauses from agitation.
No,
He, whom you dare not name, nor even I
Scarce dare to recollect, was not then in
The chamber.
[guiltless still-
Sieg. [To ULRIC]. Then, my boy! thou art
Thou bad'st me say I was so once-Oh! now
Do thou as much!
Gab.
Be patient! I can not
Recede now, though it shake the very walls
Which frown above us. You remember, or
If not, your son does,-that the locks were
changed
Beneath his chief inspection on the morn
Which led to this same night: how he had
enter'd
He best knows-but within an antechamber,
I must do so-The door of which was half ajar, I saw
A man who wash'd his bloody hands, and oft
With stern and anxious glance gazed back upon
The bleeding body-but it moved no more.
Sieg. Oh! God of fathers!
I saw in you
A man above his station-and if not
So high, as now I find you, in my then
Conceptions, 'twas that I had rarely seen
Men such as you appear'd in height of mind,
In the most high of worldly rank; you were
Poor, even to all save rags; I would have shared
My purse, though slender, with you-you re-
fused it.
Sieg. Doth my refusal make a debt to you,
That thus you urge it?
Gab.
Still you owe me something,
Though not for that; and I owed you my safety,
At least my seeming safety, when the slaves
Of Stralenheim pursued me on the grounds
That I had robb'd him.
Sieg.
I conceal'd you-I,
Whom and whose house you arraign, reviving
viper !
Gab. I accuse no man-save in my defence.
You, count, have made yourself accuser-judge:
Your hall's my court, your heart is my tribunal.
Be just, and I'll be merciful!
Sieg.
You! Base calumniator!
I. "Twill rest
With me at last to be so. You conceal'd me-
In secret passages known to yourself,
You said, and to none else. At dead of night,
Weary with watching in the dark, and dubious
Of tracing back my way, I saw a glimmer,
Through distant crannies, of a twinkling light:
I follow'd it, and reach'd a door--a secret
Portal-which open'd to the chamber, where,
With cautious hand and slow, having first undone
As much as made a crevice of the fastening,
I look'd through, and beheld a purple bed,
And on it Stralenheim !-
I beheld his features As I see yours-but yours they were not, though Resembling them -behold them in Count
Distinct as I beheld them, though the expression
Is not now what it then was !-but it was so
When I first charged him with the crime-so
Sieg. This is so-
[lately.
Gab. [interrupting him]. Nay-but hear me
to the end!
Now you must do so.-I conceived myself
Betray'd by you and him (for now I saw
There was some tie between you) into this
Pretended den of refuge, to become
The victim of your guilt; and my first thought
Was Vengeance: but, though arm'd with a
short poniard
(Having left my sword without), I was no match
For him at any time, as had been proved
That morning-either in address or force.
I turn'd and fled-i' the dark chance rather
than
Skill made me gain the secret door of the hall,
And thence the chamber where you slept: if I
Had found you waking, Heaven alone can tell
What vengeance and suspicion might have
prompted;
But ne'er slept guilt as Werner slept that night.
Sieg. And yet I had horrid dreams! and such
For trifling or dissembling. I have said
His story's true; and he too must be silenced.
Sieg. How so?
Ulr. As Stralenheim is. Are you so dull
As never to have hit on this before?
When we met in the garden, what except
Discovery in the act could make me know
His death? Or had the prince's household been
Then summon'd, would the cry for the police
Been left to such a stranger? Or should I
Have loiter'd on the way? Or could you,
Werner,
The object of the baron's hate and fears,
Have fled-unless by many an hour before
Suspicion woke? I sought and fathom'd you,
Doubting if you were false or feeble: I
Perceived you were the latter: and yet so
Confiding have I found you, that I doubted
At times your weakness.
Sieg.
Parricide! no less
Than common stabber! What deed of my lite,
Or thought of mine, could make you deem me fit
For your accomplice ?
Sieg. Dare you await the event of a few Deliberation? [minutes' Ulr. Gab. [casts his eyes on ULRIC, who is leaning against a pillar]. If I should do so? Sieg. I pledge my life for yours. Withdraw
I have still a further shield.
I did not enter Prague alone; and should I
Be put to rest with Stralenheim, there are
Some tongues without will wag in my behalf.
Be brief in your decision!
Sieg
I will be so.-
My word is sacred and irrevocable
Within these walls, but it extends no further.
Gab. I'll take it for so much.
Sieg. [points to ULRIC'S sabre, still upon the
ground].
Take also that-
I saw you eye it eagerly, and him
Distrustfully.
Gab. [takes up the sabre. I will; and so proTo sell my life-not cheaply. [vide [GABOR goes into the turret, which SIEGENDORF closes.
Sieg. [advances to ULRIC]. Now, Count
Father, do not raise The devil you cannot lay between us. Is time for union and for action, not For family disputes. While you were tortured, Could be calm? Think you that I have heard This fellow's tale without some feeling ?—You Have taught me feeling for you and myself? For whom or what else did you ever teach it? Sieg. Oh! my dead father's curse! 'tis working now.
Ulr. Let it work on! the grave will keep it Ashes are feeble foes: it is more easy
To baffle such, than countermine a mole, [you.
Which winds its blind but living path beneath
Yet hear me still!-If you condemn me, yet
Remember who hath taught me once too often
To listen to him! Who proclaim'd to me
That there were crimes made venial by the
occasion?
That passion was our nature? that the goods
Of Heaven waited on the goods of fortune?
Who show'd me his humanity secured
By his nerves only? Who deprived me of
All power to vindicate myself and race
In open day? By his disgrace which stamp'd
(It might be) bastardy on me, and on
Himself a felon's brand! The man who is
At once both warm and weak invites to deeds
He longs to do, but dare not. Is it strange
That I should act what you could think? We
have done
[ponder
With right and wrong: and now must only
Upon effects, not causes. Stralenheim,
Whose life I saved from impulse, as, unknown,
I would have saved a peasant's or a dog's, I slew
Known as our foe--but not from vengeance. He
Was a rock in our way which I cut through,
As doth the bolt, because it stood between us
And our true destination-but not idly.
As stranger I preserved him, and he owed me
His life: when due, I but resumed the debt.
He, you, and I stood o'er a gulf wherein
I have plunged our enemy.
You kindled first
The torch-you show'd the path: now trace me
Of safety or let me !
[that
Sieg.
I have done with life!
Ulr. Let us have done with that which
cankers life-
Familiar feuds and vain recriminations
Of things which cannot be undone. We have
No more to learn or hide: I know no fear,
And have within these very walls men who
(Although you know them not) dare venture all
things.
You stand high with the state; what passes here
Will not excite her too great curiosity:
Keep your own secret, keep a steady eye,
Stir not, and speak not;-leave the rest to me :
We must have no third babblers thrust between
[Exit ULRIC.
Sieg. [solus]. Am I awake? are these my
fathers' halls?
[ever
And you my son! My son! mine! who have
Abhorr'd both mystery and blood, and yet
Am plunged into the deepest hell of both!
I must be speedy, or more will be shed-
The Hungarian's !-Ulric-he hath partisans,
It seems I might have guess'd as much.
fool!
Wolves prowl in company. He hath the key (As I too) of the opposite door which leads Into the turret. Now then! or once more
To be the father of fresh crimes-no less Than of the criminal! Ho! Gabor! Gabor! [Exit into the turret, closing the door after him.
SCENE II.-The Interior of the Turret.
GABOR and SIEGENDORF.
Gab. Who calls? Sieg. I-Siegendorf! Take these and fly! Lose not a moment!
[Tears off a diamond star and other jewels, and thrusts them into GABOR'S hand. What am I to do
Denounced-dragg'd, it may be, in chains; and
By your inherent weakness, half-humanity, [all
Selfish remorse, and temporizing pity,
That sacrifices your whole race to save
A wretch to profit by our ruin! No, count,
Henceforth you have no son !
Sieg.
I never had one;
And would you ne'er had borne the useless
name !
Where will you go? I would not send you forth
Without protection.
Leave that unto me.
I am not alone; nor merely the vain heir
Of your domains; a thousand, ay, ten thousand
Swords, hearts, and hands are mine.
Sieg. With whom the Hungarian found you first at
Ulr. Yes-men-who are worthy of the name! Go tell
Your senators that they look well to Prague;
Their feast of peace was early for the times;
There are more spirits abroad than have been
With Wallenstein!
[laid
Enter JOSEPHINE and IDA.
What is't we hear? My Siegendorf!
Thank Heaven, I see you safe!
Sieg. No, no; I have no children: never more Call me by that worst name of parent.
Ida. [taking ULRIC'S hand]. Who shall dare
say this of Ulric?
[hand.
Sieg. Ida, beware! there's blood upon that
Ida. [stooping to kiss it). I'd kiss it off, though
Sieg.
It is so ! it were mine.
Ulr. Away! it is your father's! [Exit ULRIC.
Oh, great God!
And I have loved this man!
[IDA falls senseless-JOSEPHINE stands
speechless with horror.
Sieg.
The wretch hath slain ||
Them both!-My Josephine! we are now alone!
Would we had ever been so !--All is over
For me!-Now open wide, my sire, thy grave;
That you have given birth Thy curse hath dug it deeper for thy son
In mine!-The race of Siegendorf is past?
THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED:
THIS production is founded partly on the story of a novel called 'The Three Brothers,' published many years ago, from which M. G. Lewis's Wood Demon' was also taken; and. partly on the Faust' of the great Goethe. The present publication contains the two first parts only, and the opening chorus of the third. The rest may perhaps appear hereafter.
If there would be another unlike thee,
That monstrous sport of nature. But get hence,
And gather wood!
Arn.
I will but when I bring it,
Speak to me kindly. Though my brothers are
So beautiful and lusty, and as free
As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me;
Our milk has been the same.
Bert.
As is the hedgehog's,
Which sucks at midnight from the wholesome
dam
Of the young bull, until the milkmaid finds
The nipple next day sore and udder dry.
Call not thy brothers brethren! Call me not
Mother; for if I brought thee forth, it was
As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by
Sitting upon strange eggs.
Out, urchin, out! [Exit BERTHA. She is gone,
Arn. [solus]. Oh, mother! and I must do
Her bidding;-wearily but willingly I would fulfil it, could I only hope A kind word in return. What shall I do? [ARNOLD begins to cut wood: in doing this he wounds one of his hands.
My labour for the day is over now.
Accursed be this blood that flows so fast;
For double curses will be my meed now
At home-What home? I have no home, no
No kind-not made like other creatures, or
To share their sports or pleasures. Must I
bleed, too,
Like them? Oh, that each drop which falls to Would rise a snake to sting them, as they have| stung me!
Or that the devil, to whom they liken me,
Would aid his likeness! If I must partake
His form, why not his power? Is it because
I have not his will too? For one kind word
From her who bore me would still reconcile me
Even to this hateful aspect. Let me wash
The wound.
[ARNOLD goes to a spring, and stoops to wash his hands: he starts back. They are right; and Nature's mirror shows me What she hath made me. I will not look on it Again, and scarce dare think on't. Hideous wretch
That I am! The very waters mock me with
My horrid shadow-like a demon placed
Deep in the fountain to scare back the cattle
From drinking therein.
[He pauses.
And shall I live on,
A burden to the earth, myself, and shame
Unto what brought me into life! Thou blood,
Which flow'st so freely from a scratch, let me
Try if thou wilt not in a fuller stream
Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself
On earth, to which I will restore at once
This hateful compound of her atoms, and
Resolve back to her elements, and take
The shape of any reptile save myself,
And make a world for myriads of new worms!
This knife! now let me prove if it will sever
This wither'd slip of nature's nightshade-my
Vile form-from the creation, as it hath
The green bough from the forest.
[ARNOLD places the knife in the ground,
with the point upwards.
Now 'tis set,
And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance
On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like
Myself, and the sweet sun which warm'd me,
In vain. The birds-how joyously they sing !
So let them, for I would not be lamented:
But let their merriest notes be Arnold's knell;
The fallen leaves my monument; the murmur
Of the near fountain my sole elegy.
Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would fall!
As he rushes to throw himself upon the
knife, his eye is suddenly caught by the
fountain, which seems in motion.
The fountain moves without a wind: but shall
The ripple of a spring change my resolve?
No. Yet it moves again! The waters stir,
Not as with air, but by some subterrane
And rocking power of the internal world.
What's here? A mist! No more?—
A cloud comes from the fountain. stands gazing upon it: it is dispelled, and a tall black man comes towards him. Arn. What would you? Speak! Spirit or man? Stran.
Your form is man's, and yet
So many men are that [me Which is so call'd or thought, that you may add To which you please, without much wrong to
But come you wish to kill yourself ;-pursue Your purpose.
You have interrupted me. Stran. What is that resolution which can e et Be interrupted? If I be the devil You deem, a single moment would have made Mine, and for ever, by your suicide; [you And yet my coming saves you. Arn.
I said not You were the demon, but that your approach Was like one.
Unless you keep company With him (and you seem scarce used to such high
Society), you can't tell how he approaches; And for his aspect, look upon the fountain, And then on me, and judge which of us twain Looks likest what the boors believe to me Their cloven-footed terror.
Do you dare you To taunt me with my born deformity?
Stran. Were I to taunt a buffalo with this Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary With thy sublime of humps, the animals Would revel in the compliment. And yet Both beings are more swift, more strong, m In action and endurance than thyself,
|