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,
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