Enter GEORGE OF ASPEN, as from the pursuit. GEO. (comes slowly forward.) How many wretches have sunk under my arm this day, to whom life was sweet, though the wretched bondsmen of Count Roderic! And I-I who sought death beneath every lifted battle-axe, and offered my breast to every arrow-I am cursed with victory and safety. Here I left the wretch-Martin!Martin !—what, ho! Martin!-Mother of God! he is gone! Should he repeat the dreadful tale to any other-Martin-He answers not. Perhaps he has crept into the thicket, and died there -were it so, the horrible secret is only mine. of his senses when I left him, and has perhaps wandered into the marsh, and perished there. GEO. How-out of his senses? Did he speak to thee?-(apprehensively.) WIC. Yes, noble sir. GEO. Dear Henry, step for an instant to yon tree-thou wilt see from thence if the foe rally upon the Wolfshill. (HENRY retires.) And do you stand back (to the soldiers.) [He brings WICKERD forward. GEO. (with marked apprehension.) What did Martin say to thee, Wickerd?--tell me, on thy allegiance. WIC. Mere ravings, sir knight-offered me his sword to kill you. GEO. Said he aught of killing any one else? WIC. No: the pain of his wound seemed to have brought on a fever. GEO. (clasps his hands together.) I breathe again I spy comfort. Why could I not see as well as this fellow, that the wounded wretch may have been distracted? Let me at least think so till proof shall show the truth (aside.) Wickerd, think not on what I said-the heat of the battle had chafed my blood. Thou hast wished for the Nether farm at Ebersdorf-it shall be thine. Wic. Thanks, my noble lord. Re-enter HENRY. HEN. No-they do not rally-they have had Enter HENRY OF ASPEN, with WICKERD, REYNOLD, enough of it—but Wickerd and Conrad shall re and followers. HEN. Joy to thee, brother! though, by St. Francis, I would not gain another field at the price of seeing thee fight with such reckless desperation. Thy safety is little less than miraculous. REY. By'r Lady, when Baron George struck, I think he must have forgot that his foes were God's creatures. Such furious doings I never saw, and I have been a trooper these forty-two years come St. Barnaby—— GEO. Peace! saw any of you Martin? WIC. Noble sir, I left him here not long since. GEO. Alive or dead? main, with twenty troopers and a score of crossbowmen, and scour the woods towards Griefenhaus, to prevent the fugitives from making head. We will, with the rest, to Ebersdorf. What say you, brother? GEO. Well ordered. Wickerd, look thou search everywhere for Martin: bring him to me dead or alive; leave not a nook of the wood unsought. WIC. I warrant you, noble sir, I shall find him, could he clew himself up like a dormouse.` HEN. I think he must be prisoner. GEO. Heaven forefend! Take a trumpet, Eustace (to an attendant); ride to the castle of Maltingen, and demand a parley. If Martin is prisoner, offer any ransom: offer ten-twenty-all our prisoners in exchange. Eus. It shall be done, sir knight. HEN. Ere we go, sound trumpets-strike up the of victory. GEO. Heedless slave! Why didst thou leave him? HEN. Dear brother, Wickerd acted for the best: he came to our assistance and the aid of his com-song panions. GEO. I tell thee, Henry, Martin's safety was of more importance than the lives of any ten that stand here. SONG. Joy to the victors! the sons of old Aspen! Joy to the race of the battle and scar! WIC. (muttering.) Here's much to do about an Glory's proud garland triumphantly grasping; old crazy trencher-shifter. GEO. What mutterest thou? WIC. Only, sir knight, that Martin seemed out Bursting, resistless, through foemen they go: War-axes wielding, Broken ranks yielding, Till from the battle proud Roderic retiring, Yields in wild rout the fair palm to his foe. Joy to each warrior, true follower of Aspen! Peace to our brethren that fell in the fray! Roderic's power scorning, Well for their chieftain their blades did they wield: Joy blest them dying, As Maltingen flying, Low laid his banners, our conquest adorning, Their death-clouded eyeballs descried on the field! Now to our home, the proud mansion of Aspen, Listening the prancing Of horses advancing; E'en now on the turrets our maidens appear. Love our hearts warming, Songs the night charming, Round goes the grape in the goblet gay dancing; Love, wine, and song, our blithe evening shall cheer! HEN. Now spread our banners, and to Ebersdorf in triumph. We carry relief to the anxious, joy to the heart of the aged, brother George. (Going off.) GEO. Or treble misery and death. [Apart, and following slowly. The music sounds, and the followers of Aspen begin to file across the stage. The curtain falls. ACT III-SCENE I. Castle of Ebersdorf. RUDIGER, ISABELLA, and GERTRUDE. RUD. I prithee, dear wife, be merry. It must be over by this time, and happily, otherwise the bad news had reached us. ISA. Should we not, then, have heard the tidings of the good? RUD. Oh! these fly slower by half. Besides, I warrant all of them engaged in the pursuit. Oh! not a page would leave the skirts of the fugitives till they were fairly beaten into their holds; but had the boys lost the day, the stragglers had made for the castle. Go to the window, Gertrude: seest thou any thing? GER. I think I see a horseman. ISA. A single rider? then I fear me much. RUD. A plague on thee! didst thou take a fat friar on a mule for a trooper of the house of Aspen! GER. But yonder is a cloud of dust. RUD. (eagerly.) Indeed! GER. It is only the wine sledges going to my aunt's convent. RUD. The devil confound the wine sledges, and the mules, and the monks! Come from the window, and torment me no longer, thou seer of strange sights. GER. Dear uncle, what can I do to amuse you? Shall I tell you what I dreamed this morning! RUD. Nonsense: but say on; any thing is better than silence. GER. I thought I was in the chapel, and they were burying my aunt Isabella alive. And who, do you think, aunt, were the gravediggers who shovelled in the earth upon you? Even Baron George and old Martin. ISA. (appears shocked.) Heaven! what an idea! GER. Do but think of my terror-and Minhold the minstrel played all the while, to drown your screams. RUD. And old Father Ludovic danced a saraband, with the steeple of the new convent upon his thick skull by way of mitre. A truce to this nonsense. Give us a song, my love, and leave thy dreams and visions. GER. What shall I sing to you? RUD. Sing to me of war. GER. I cannot sing of battle; but I will sing you the Lament of Eleanor of Toro, when her lover was slain in the wars. ISA. Oh, no laments, Gertrude. ISA. Dear husband, is this a time for mirth? RUD. Is it neither a time to sing of mirth nor of sorrow? Isabella would rather hear Father Ludovic chant the "De profundis." GER. Dear uncle, be not angry. At present, I can only sing the lay of poor Eleanor. It comes to my heart at this moment as if the sorrowful mourner had been my own sister. SONG.1 Sweet shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro, Weak were the whispers that waved the dark wood, 1 Compare with "The Maid of Toro," ante, 635. As a fair maiden, bewilder'd in sorrow, Sigh'd to the breezes and wept to the flood."Saints, from the mansion of bliss lowly bending, Virgin, that hear'st the poor suppliant's cry, Grant my petition, in anguish ascending, My Frederick restore, or let Eleanor die." Distant and faint were the sounds of the battle; With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail, Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread rattle, And the chase's wild clamor came loading the gale. Breathless she gazed through the woodland so dreary, Slowly approaching, a warrior was seen; Life's ebbing tide mark'd his footsteps so weary, Cleft was his helmet, and woe was his mien. "Save thee, fair maid, for our armies are flying; RUD. How now, RUD. Never, my girl, never! (Military music is heard.) Hark! hark! to the sounds that tell thee so. [All rise and run to the window. RUD. Joy! joy! they come, and come victorious. (The chorus of the war-song is heard without.) Welcome! welcome! once more have my old eyes seen the banners of the house of Maltingen trampled in the dust.-Isabella, broach our oldest casks: wine is sweet after war. Enter HENRY, followed by REYNOLD and troopers. this old heart. ISA. Bless thee, my son-(embraces him)-Oh, how many hours of bitterness are compensated by this embrace! Bless thee, my Henry! where hast thou left thy brother? HEN. Hard at hand: by this he is crossing the drawbridge. Hast thou no greetings for me, Gertrude? (Goes to her.) GER. I joy not in battles. RUD. But she had tears for thy danger. HEN. Thanks, my gentle Gertrude. See, I have brought back thy scarf from no inglorious field. GER. It is bloody-(shocked.) RUD. Dost start at that, my girl? Were it his own blood, as it is that of his foes, thou shouldst glory in it.-Go, Reynold, make good cheer with thy fellows. ISA. (rushes to embrace him-he avoids her.) RUD. Thou lookest deadly pale. ISA. Heaven's blessing on my gallant George. ISA. Smile upon us for once, my son; darken not thy brow on this day of gladness-few are our moments of joy-should not my sons share in them? GEO. (aside.) She has moments of joy-it was phrensy then! ISA. Gertrude, my love, assist me to disarm the knight. (She loosens and takes off his casque.) GER. There is one, two, three hacks, and none has pierced the steel. RUD. Let me see. Let me see. A trusty casque! ISA. I will reward the armorer with its weight in gold. GEO. (aside.) She must be innocent. GER. And Henry's shield is hacked, too! Let me show it to you, uncle. (She carries HENRY's shield to RUDIGER.) RUD. Do, my love; and come hither, Henry, thou shalt tell me how the day went. [HENRY and GERTRUDE converse apart with RUDIGER; GEORGE comes forward; IsaBELLA comes to him. ISA. Surely, George, some evil has befallen thee. Grave thou art ever, but so dreadfully gloomy GEO. Evil, indeed.-(Aside.) Now for the trial. GEO. NO!—Yes!-(Apart.) I cannot do it. GEO. It must be.-Martin is dead. (He regards her with apprehension, but steadily, as he pronounces these words.) ISA. (starts, then shows a ghastly expression of joy.) Dead! GEO. (almost overcome by his feelings.) Guilty! Guilty!-(apart.) ISA. (without observing his emotion.) Didst thou say dead? GEO. Did I-no-I only said mortally wounded. GEO. (sternly.) Hold, lady!--Speak not so loud! possessions, for his ransom. Never shall I know peace till these walls, or till the grave secures him. GEO. (apart.) Guilty! Guilty! Enter PETER. PET. Hugo, squire to the Count of Maltingen, has arrived with a message. RUD. I will receive him in the hall. little knew on what terrors I ran, to avoid one GEO. Knowest thou to whom thou hast told it! GEO. No! No! to an executioner! ISA. Be it so go, proclaim my crime, and forget not my punishment. Forget not that the murderess of her husband has dragged out years of hidden [Exit, leaning on GERTRUDE and HENRY. remorse, to be brought at last to the scaffold by ISA. Go, George-see after Martin. her own cherished son-thou art silent. GEO. (firmly.) No-I have a task to perform; and though the earth should open and devour me alive-I will accomplish it. But first-but firstNature, take thy tribute.—(He falls on his mother's neck, and weeps bitterly.) ISA. George! my son! for Heaven's sake. what dreadful phrensy! GEO. (walks two turns across the stage and composes himself.) Listen, mother-I knew a knight in Hungary, gallant in battle, hospitable and generous in peace. The king gave him his friendship, and the administration of a province; that province was infested by thieves and murderers. You mark me? ISA. Most heedfully. GEO. The knight was sworn-bound by an oath the most dreadful that can be taken by man-to deal among offenders even-handed, stern, and impartial justice. Was it not a dreadful vow? ISA. (with an affectation of composure.) Solemn, GEO. Well! it happened, that when he rode out against the banditti, he made a prisoner. And who, think you, that prisoner was? ISA. I know not (with increasing terror.) GEO. (trembling, but proceeding rapidly.) His own twin-brother, who sucked the same breasts with him, and lay in the bosom of the same mother; his brother whom he loved as his own soul -what should that knight have done unto his brother? ISA. (almost speechless.) Alas! what did he do? GEO. He did (turning his head from her, and with clasped hands) what I can never do:-he did his duty. GEO. The language of Nature is no more! How shall I learn another? ISA. Look upon me, George. Should the executioner be abashed before the criminal-look upon me, my son. From my soul do I forgive thee. GEO. Forgive me what? ISA. What thou dost meditate-be vengeance heavy, but let it be secret-add not the death of a father to that of the sinner! Oh! Rudiger! Rudiger! innocent cause of all my guilt and all my woe, how wilt thou tear thy silver locks when thou shalt hear her guilt whom thou hast so often clasped to thy bosom-hear her infamy proclaimed by the son of thy fondest hopes-(weeps.) GEO. (struggling for breath.) Nature will have utterance: mother, dearest mother, I will save you or perish! (throws himself into her arms.) Thus fall my vows. ISA. Man thyself! I ask not safety from thee. Never shall it be said, that Isabella of Aspen turned her son from the path of duty, though his footsteps must pass over her mangled corpse. Man thyself. GEO. NO! No! The ties of Nature were knit by God himself. Cursed be the stoic pride that would rend them asunder, and call it virtue ! ISA. My son! My son!-How shall I behold thee hereafter? [Three knocks are heard upon the door of the apartment. GEO. Hark! One-two-three. Roderic, thou art speedy! (Apart.) Isa. (opens the door.) A parchment stuck to the door with a poniard! (Opens it.) Heaven and earth!--a summons from the invisible judges!— (Drops the parchment.) GEO. (reads with emotion.) "Isabella of Aspen, ISA. My son! my son!-Mercy! Mercy! (Clings accused of murder by poison, we conjure thee, by to him.) GEO. Is it then true? ISA. What? the cord and by the steel, to appear this night before the avengers of blood, who judge in secret and avenge in secret, like the Deity. As thou art GEO. What Martin said? (ISABELLA hides her innocent or guilty, so be thy deliverance.”—Marface.) It is true! Isa. (looks up with an air of dignity.) Hear, Framer of the laws of nature! the mother is judged by the child-Turns towards him.) Yes, it is true -true that, fearful of my own life, I secured it by the murder of my tyrant. Mistaken coward! I tin, Martin, thou hast played false ! ISA. Alas! whither shall I fly? GEO. Thou canst not fly; instant death would follow the attempt; a hundred thousand arms would be raised against thy life; every morsel thou didst taste, every drop which thou didst drink, the very breeze of heaven that fanned thee, would come loaded with destruction. One chance of safety is open:-obey the summons. witness to the tale of Martin's guilt. But no priest shall approach him. Reynold, thinkest thou not we could send one of the troopers, disguised as a ISA. And perish.-Yet why should I still fear monk, to aid Martin in making his escape? death? Be it so. GEO. NO-I have sworn to save you. I will not do the work by halves. Does any one save Martin know of the dreadful deed? ISA. None. GEO. Then go-assert your innocence, and leave the rest to me. REY. Noble sir, the followers of your house are so well known to those of Maltingen, that I fear it is impossible. GEO. Knowest thou of no stranger who might be employed? His reward shall exceed even his hopes. REY. So please you—I think the minstrel could well execute such a commission; he is shrewd and ISA. Wretch that I am! How can I support the cunning, and can write and read like a priest. task you would impose? GEO. Think on my father. Live for him: he will need all the comfort thou canst bestow. Let the thought that his destruction is involved in thine, carry thee through the dreadful trial. ISA. Be it so.-For Rudiger I have lived: for him I will continue to bear the burden of existence: but the instant that my guilt comes to his knowledge shall be the last of my life. Ere I would bear from him one glance of hatred or of scorn, this dagger should drink my blood. (Puts the poniard into her bosom.) GEO. Call him.-(Exit REYNOLD.) If this fails, I must employ open force. Were Martin removed, no tongue can assert the bloody truth. Enter MINSTREL GEO. Come hither, Minhold. Hast thou courage to undertake a dangerous enterprise? BER. My life, sir knight, has been one scene of danger and of dread. I have forgotten how to fear. GEO. Thy speech is above thy seeming. Who art thou? BER. An unfortunate knight, obliged to shroud GEO. Fear not. He can never know. No evi-myself under this disguise. dence shall appear against you. ISA. How shall I obey the summons, and where find the terrible judgment-seat? GEO. Leave that to the judges. Resolve but to obey, and a conductor will be found. Go to the chapel; there pray for your sins and for mine. (He leads her out, and returns.)-Sins, indeed! I break a dreadful vow, but I save the life of a parent; and the penance I will do for my perjury shall appal even the judges of blood. Enter REYNOLD. REY. Sir knight, the messenger of Count Roderic desires to speak with you. GEO. Admit him. Enter HUGO. HUG. Count Roderic of Maltingen greets you. He says he will this night hear the bat flutter and the owlet scream; and he bids me ask if thou also wilt listen to the music. GEO. I understand him. I will be there. HUG. And the Count says to you, that he will not ransom your wounded squire, though you would down-weigh his best horse with gold. But you may send him a confessor, for the Count says he will need one. GEO. Is he so near death? HUG. Not as it seems to me. He is weak through loss of blood; but since his wound was dressed he can both stand and walk. Our Count has a notable balsam, which has recruited him much. GEO. Enough I will send the priest.-(Exit HUGO.) I fathom his plot. He would add another GEO. What is the cause of thy misfortunes? BER. I slew, at a tournament, a prince, and was laid under the ban of the empire. GEO. I have interest with the emperor. Swear to perform what task I shall impose on thee, and I will procure the recall of the ban. BER. I swear. GEO. Then take the disguise of a monk, and go with the follower of Count Roderic, as if to confess my wounded squire Martin. Give him thy dress, and remain in prison in his stead. Thy captivity shall be short, and I pledge my knightly word I will labor to execute my promise, when thou shalt have leisure to unfold thy history. BER. I will do as you direct. Is the life of your squire in danger? GEO. It is, unless thou canst accomplish his release. BER. I will essay it. [Exit. GEO. Such are the mean expedients to which George of Aspen must now resort. No longer can I debate with Roderic in the field. The depraved— the perjured knight must contend with him only in the arts of dissimulation and treachery. Oh, mother! mother! the most bitter consequence of thy crime has been the birth of thy first-born! But I must warn my brother of the impending storm. Poor Henry, how little can thy gay temper anticipate evil! What, ho there! (Enter an Attendant.) Where is Baron Henry? ATT. Noble sir, he rode forth, after a slight refreshment, to visit the party in the field. GEO. Saddle my steed; I will follow him. |