SOPHIA MANSFIELD's apartments in the Porcelain Factory. Enter SOPHIA.
SOPHIA. 'Tis done. My vase is finished, and in the possession of the overseer. How is it with me? Although my fortunes are suspended by a single thread, an unaccustomed buoyancy pervades my bosom. Are these emotions precursors of victory, or has the love of Laniska given me a new existence, and tinged the world once more with hues of paradise? How new and fresh and strange are all he things here about my heart! This is his gift—a simple flower! He said it is an emblem of love. It is not so. Love does not perish thus!—Love can not be a flower.
SONG-SOPHIA.Ah! Love is not a garden-flower,That shoots from out the cultured earth;That needs the sunbeam and the shower,Before it wakens into birth:It owns a richer soil and seed,And woman's heart supplies them both,Where it will spring, without a weed,Consummate in its growth.
These leaves will perish when awayFrom either genial sun or shower;Not so will wither and decayCelestial Love's perennial flower.'Tis our companion countless miles,Through weal or woe in after years;And though it flourishes in smiles,It blooms as fresh in tears!
(Enter FREDERICA.)
FREDERICA.My dear Sophia, I am overjoyed to learn that you have completed your vase.
SOPHIA. Thanks, dear madam. Is it true that the works of the different competitors are to be exhibited at the fete of the countess, and that the decision is to be there made?
FREDERICA.It is—and the countess insists upon your being present.
SOPHIA. I am an unknown girl, madam; and if I decline the invitation, I beseech you take it not amiss.
FREDERICA. —But I will take it amiss, and so will the count and countess, whose messenger I am, and who insisted upon my bringing you to the chateau at once.
SOPHIA.Well, madam, since you will have it so—
FREDERICA. Oh, you'll be delighted. Only think of the concentrated attractions of "the court, the camp, the grove!" Oh, they're too much for any mortal woman to withstand!
DUET—SOPHIA and FREDERICAThe king, the princes of the court,With lords and ladies bright,Will in their dazzling state resortTo this grand fete to-night:The merry-hearted and the proudWill mingle in the glittering crowd,Who glide with Fashion's sparkling streamWhere one I love will shine supreme!—La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.
The cavaliers of Italy,The gay gallants of France,With Spain and England's chivalry,Will join the merry dance.The court of Love—the camp of Mars,Fair Prussian dames, "earth-treading stars,"To music's strain will float in light,Where one I love will beam to-night!—La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.
[Exit cheerfully.
Discovered. Grand Saloon in the Chateau of the COUNTESS LANISKA, arranged for a Fete. The scene opens with dancing and waltzing by the CHARACTERS, and discovers the KING and retinue, LORDS and LADIES of the Court, foreign AMBASSADORS and ATTACHES, the COUNTESS LANISKA, ALBERT, WEDGEWOOD, KARL, GIRLS of the Factory, etc., etc. The CHARACTERS are variously grouped during the dance; and while all are observing the KING, who, with KARL at his side, is attentively examining the Vases, which are placed on stands on one side of the stage, the COUNT LANISKA enters, conducting, in SOPHIA and FREDERICA. After the dance, the KING speaks.
KING.The hour has arrived which is to decide the fate of the competitors. (All theCHARACTERS express by their looks and actions the utmost anxiety as to the result,and draw near to the KING.)
KARL (to KING.)The inscription upon this vase is in the handwriting of the Count Laniska.
KING.'Tis well.
KARL (aside.)And it is a death-warrant!
KING. Subjects and children: we have reason to be proud of an art that redounds to the honor and glory of Prussia. Where all have deserved well, all shall be well remembered. (The GIRLS of the Factory manifest great joy at these words, and turn to congratulate each other. SOPHIA and LANISKA stand apart, and watch every action of the KING, while the other CHARACTERS appear greatly interested in SOPHIA.) This vase, however, I select from the rest, as the most beautiful of them all. (SOPHIA clasps her hands in great agitation.) Let this be known to after ages as "THE PRUSSIAN VASE;" and let the name here inscribed (looks at and points to the name on the vase) be chronicled throughout these realms. (Takes SOPHIA by the hand.) Sophia Mansfield is the artist and she is free! (SOPHIA, overcome by her feelings, falls on the bosom of FREDERICA.)
CHORUS.Victoria! victoria!The Saxon maid is free—Victoria! victoria! etc.
SOPHIA.My heart will break with gratitude!
COUNT.And mine with joy!
KARL (aside.)It will be of brief duration.
KING (who has regarded SOPHIA with great interest.)Let the dance proceed.
(A merry dance and waltz by the CHARACTERS, at the termination of which a tableau is formed. The utmost merriment and hilarity mark the action of the scene. At the conclusion of the dance, the KING, who has been occupied in carefully examining the Vase, wipes it with his handkerchief, which becomes stained with the paint. KARL draws his attention to the inscription.)
KARL.Behold, my liege!—
KING.Ha! What words are these? (Reads.) "To Frederick the Great Tyrant"—Treachery!—(KARL immediately seizes the Vase, and carries it off, without the inscription beingseen by any but the KING.) Break off the sports!
COUNTESS (greatly astonished.)What means Your Gracious Majesty?
KING. (Who has taken out his tablets, and written on them in great haste—does not regard her, and speaks furiously.)—Let all the doors be closed! Such base ingratitude shall not go unpunished!—Give over your mirth! Ho! My guards! (Drums immediately sound.) My guards!
(Presto! Enter HAROLD, CORPORAL, and GRENADIERS, in great haste. The KING hands HAROLD his orders, and rushes out in a towering passion. Enter WEDGEWOOD. All the guests are thrown into great confusion. Re-enter KARL.)
HAROLD (promptly.)Count Laniska, stand forth!
COUNT.What is your business with me, Harold?
HAROLD.You are our prisoner.
OMNES.Prisoner?
KARL (aside.)Now I triumph!
COUNT.Under whose orders do you act?
HAROLD.Those of the king.
OMNES.The king!
HAROLD.Sophia Mansfield!
ALBERT.What of her?
HAROLD.She must away with us to the castle of Spandau.
SOPHIA.O Heaven, support me!
COUNT (drawing his sword.)Touch her at your peril, Harold!
ALBERT.This is madness! Give me your sword! (Wrests it from him, and give it to HAROLD.)Of what are they accused?
HAROLD.Of ingratitude and treason!
OMNES.Treason!
COUNT.Treason!
OMNES.Treason!
COUNT.It can not be!Of treason who accuses me?
HAROLD.The king himself!—These orders read! (Hands paper to COUNT.)
OMNES.The king himself!
COUNT (looking at the papers.)'Tis true indeed!
SOPHIA.Oh, what a fearful change is here!
KARL (aside.)I triumph now!—my vengeance fear!
(SOPHIA and LANISKA are made prisoners.)
OMNES.The king's commands let all obey!
COUNT and SOPHIA.We must obey!
SOPHIA.Oh, how my trusting heart is grieved!—
COUNT.Our royal master is deceived!No traitor I!—My loyal heartSpurns with disdain so base a part!
SOPHIA.How vainly Fortune smiled on me!
SOPHIA and COUNT.Oh, give me death or liberty!
KARL.Tear them apart!
HAROLD and GRENADIERS.No more delay!
KARL.To prison, hence!—
OMNES.To prison?
HAROLD and GRENADIERS.Hence!
OMNES.Away! away!
(As the GUARDS attempt to separate COUNT LANISKA and SOPHIA, great confusion ensues, and the act-drop descends.)
End of the second act.
The stage represents part of the Castle of Spandau, and is arranged as follows: On the left, is a large rock; above which, in the distance, is the Tower. A large grated door opens upon a platform, surrounded by iron railing.—COUNT LANISKA is discovered leaning upon them. On the right, is an arched cell, with part of the wall jutting from the side, behind which is a secret door. Above this is a fine view of an open country, and a clear, blue, starlight sky. SOPHIA is seated in the cell, at a table.—The whole scene is so managed that, while the AUDIENCE have a full view of everything, the PRISONERS, although they hear, can not see each other.—Time, near midnight.—The curtain rises slowly to music.
DUET—SOPHIA and COUNT.
SOPHIA.This gloomy cell is my abode at last;The sole reward for all my perils past.'Tis strange that love within the breast should dwell,When hope, dejected, bids the heart farewell!
COUNT.What sounds are these? No human form is near,And yet that well-known voice I faintly hear,'Twas sure the fancied music of the mind,Whose breathings mingled with the midnight wind.
BOTH.Yes!—'Tis lost!—'Tis gone!—Hark! it comes again,Like distant echoes of a melting strain:In melody {her/his} spirit floats around!—That voice!—These walls are vocal with the sound.I hear its music near me still!—'Tis there!Sure 'tis some gentle spirit of the air!
(During the duet, the moon has been gradually rising, and the light falls through the grated windows of the Prison.)
(enter JAILOR, from the Tower, to COUNT LANISKA.)
JAILOR.Count Laniska—a friend, with an order form the king.
COUNT.I attend him. [Exit Count LANISKA.
(Jailor closes the iron door over the grated window, locks it, and retires.)
SOPHIA.'Twas but a dream!—'Tis past, and all is still again!
[The bell in the tower strikes twelve
BRAVURA—SOPHIAHark! 'tis the deep-toned midnight bell,That bids a sad and long farewellTo the departed hour;How like a dirge its music fallsWithin these cold and dreary walls,Where stern misfortunes lower!
Ah! vainly through these prison-barsGlide the pale beams of moon and stars,To cheer this lonely tower;From evening's close to dawn of day,Hope's star sheds not a single rayTo light the solemn hour!
Alas! what pangs must guilt conceal,When innocence like mine can feelSo crushed in such an hour!I know not whether love be crime—But if it is, in every clime'Tis woman's fatal dower!I can find no clew to this most cruel treachery.
What fiend in human shape has plotted my destruction? (Sound of chains—prison-door is unlocked.) Ah! Karl here!
(Enter KARL, who secures the door through which he came in. He takes a position on the opposite side of the stage, and regards SOPHIA attentively.)
KARL. Well, Sophia, we meet at last where we can confer without the possibility of interruption. I came to save you.
SOPHIA.My life would not be worth preserving, owing anything to you.
KARL.Subdue this unavailing anger, and listen to your friend.
SOPHIA. Not to you. The enmity of such a man is a tribute paid to honesty. Friend! (scornfully.)
KARL.I came to give you liberty.
SOPHIA.How?
KARL.By flight.
SOPHIA.Where?
KARL.To Saxony.
SOPHIA.With whom!
KARL.The only one who loves you.
SOPHIA.Name him.
KARL.Behold him at your feet!
SOPHIA.What mockery is this? Mark me, Karl: I am a weak, friendless, unprotected girl.If your sex is strong, mine is resolute. Abandon your present designs—give up thisuseless suit, and cease to persecute the innocent.
KARL.I have heard you! Now listen to me. You are my destiny.
SOPHIA.Wretch!
KARL. I can not and I will not live without you. To secure, if not your love, at least the possession of your person, I have periled everything. You are mine by right, and I will have my own.
SOPHIA.Yours by right!—
KARL.Yes.
SOPHIA.What right?
KARL.The king gave you to me.
SOPHIA.I was not his to give.
KARL.You were his bondwoman.
SOPHIA.And his bondwoman spurned you, as she ought!
KARL.With scorn you did!—I have not forgotten it.
SOPHIA.And does so now again.
KARL.You love another!
SOPHIA.I'll not deny it.
KARL.Torture! (Draws his dagger.)
SOPHIA (greatly terrified.)Karl, you would not stain this prison-floor with blood!
KARL. I would, to strike my rival's heart through yours!—But words make the blow unnecessary. (Puts up his dagger.) Hear me, Sophia. Till I saw you, I never felt the pangs of love!—I never shed a tear! From manhood's early dawn, my savage nature could not brook reproof; nor friend nor foe had power over me. Your smile alone subdued this callous heart. Sophia, save me!—Save a repentant, wretched man!
SONG—KARL.(German air.)Once, mild and gentle was my heart!My youth from guile was free!But when love's bonds were torn apart,What joy had life for me?No words, no threats could daunt my soul,My reckless spirit spurned controlTill swayed by smiles from thee!
A wanderer o'er the desert sand,And outcast on the sea,An exile from my native land—What's all the world to me?Each friend misfortune proved a foe:I scorned the high—despised the low—Till swayed by smiles from thee!
(At he conclusion of the song, enter, by the secret door, HAROLD, with a carbine, conducting in ALBERT and WEDGEWOOD stealthily.)
HAROLD (aside.)I knew that I was right.
ALBERT (aside.)Silence—on your lives!
WEDGEWOOD (aside.)If it is convenient! [They conceal themselves.
SOPHIA.It is in vain!
KARL. Then you must away with me this very night, this very hour, or perish here! (KARL advances and takes her by the wrist. ALBERT keeps WEDGEWOOD and HAROLD off.)
SOPHIA.Villain, forbear! Oh, help me, Heaven!
KARL (drawing his dagger.) You call in vain! Your doom is sealed!—Die! (As he is about to stab SOPHIA, WEDGEWOOD seizes his arm.)
WEDGEWOOD.You lie, you infernal scoundrel!
KARL. Ha! betrayed!—Have at you, then! (A struggle ensues between KARL and WEDGEWOOD, in which the former is overcome, and thrown upon the ground. SOPHIA rushes into ALBERT's arms in great agitation. HAROLD advances to the center of the stage, and aims his carbine at KARL. At the same moment, WEDGEWOOD, who has had a desperate struggle with KARL, exclaims—)
WEDGEWOOD Your dagger! your dagger! (Wrests it from him.) Now yield, or die!—(Rises, places his foot upon KARL, and holds the dagger up)—If it is convenient!
(Tableau.—Scene closes.)
[Exit.
Another cell in the Castle of Spandau.—Enter COUNT LANISKA and JAILOR.
JAILOR.Count Laniska, you bear the king's commission, although a prisoner; therefore, whileI leave you to examine these papers (hands papers,) received from Mr. Worrendorf,I rely upon your honor not to attempt to escape.
COUNT. Your confidence is not misplaced, believe me. [Exit JAILOR.]—(Looks at papers.) My friend is unwearied in my cause. But I am a soldier, and have ever held my life at the disposal of the king. If Sophia were free and happy, I could look upon death with an undaunted spirit. (Puts up papers.) How like an angel she appeared when last I gazed upon her heavenly face—now glistening with the tear, now radiant with the smile of beauty!
SONG—LANISKA.The gentle bird on yonder spray,That sings its little life away;The rose-bud bursting into flower,And glittering in the sun and shower;The cherry-blossom on the tree—Are emblematic all of thee.
Yon moon that sways the vassal streams,Like thee in modest beauty beams;So shines the diamond of the mine,And the rock-crystal of the brine;The gems of heaven, the earth and sea,Are blended, all, dear maid, in thee!
[Exit
An Apartment in the Gallery of Paintings at Sans Souci. Enter ALBERT and WEDGEWOODin haste, meeting the COUNTESS LANISKA.
ALBERT.Have you seen the king?
COUNTESS.His Majesty has not yet appeared.
WEDGEWOOD. A crate of mouldy straw for your warlike government! (Snaps his fingers.) That for your soldier-like system of doing business! I wouldn't give a broken basin for it! Why, the commanding officer has only to say, "Hang me up that tall fellow like a scarecrow," and up he goes—tzck!—or, "Give me that short chap the cat-o'-nine-tails," and, whack, he has it—or, "Shoot me yonder half-dozen specimens of humanity," and bang, 'tis done!
(Enter FREDERICK, followed by HAROLD, unperceived, at the back of the stage.)
ALBERT.If the king would but listen to reason—
WEDGEWOOD. Ay, but he won't! I never saw such a resolute old curmudgeon; and then he's so proud, too! He's like a hard-baked stone jar—he won't bend anyhow. I know why he gave me his snuff-box: it was because I happened to help myself to a pinch out of the dirty old trumpery! If he, or you, or all of you, by any chance happened to live in England, or any other civilized country, this poor count, and the girl too, would have an impartial hearing before they were condemned.
COUNTESS.But under this government we have blessings unknown to yours—
WEDGEWOOD. But me no buts, madam! Give me the blessings of living under a government where no man can be condemned without a fair trail by jury, madam. To you Prussians, this is a matter of favor; but to us Englishmen, it is a matter of right!
COUNTESS.Would to Heaven that my son and this poor girl could have such a trial!—
ALBERT.And would to Heaven I might plead their cause!
(The KING, who has paid great attention to their conversation, walks down the stage, and suddenly stands in the midst of them. They all start, and fall back.)
KING.On one condition you shall—
OMNES.The king!
KING.On one condition, young man, your prayer shall be granted.
ALBERT.Name it, sire—
KING. If you fail to convince the judges of their innocence, that you shall share their punishment. Do you agree?
ALBERT.I do, and set my life upon the issue.
KING. Your life shall answer for it if you fail. (To HAROLD.) Give orders that the hall of the castle be immediately prepared for the trial. Use dispatch, Harold! [Exit HAROLD.] (To the COUNTESS.) You, madam, I believe to be wholly ignorant of your son's treachery.
COUNTESS.If he be guilty—
KING (sarcastically.)IF he be guilty, madam?
COUNTESS. Yes, sire; if he has forgotten what Your Majesty has done for Poland, he is no son of mine!
KING.I shall spare you all the reflections I have made on the subject, madam. Tyrant asI am, I shall not punish the innocent mother for the guilty son. But perhaps thisgentleman [ALBERT] and you [WEDGEWOOD] recommended trial—
WEDGEWOOD.Trial by jury! Your Majesty has said it! There's freedom in the very words!
KING.How is it to be managed?
WEDGEWOOD.Managed, Your Majesty? Why, according to law and justice.
KING.Good!
WEDGEWOOD.Twelve honest, upright, free, and independent men are empanelled to hear the case—
KING.Good again!
WEDGEWOOD. All the witnesses are examined, and all the testimony fairly summed up by learned counsel!
KING.Excellent!
WEDGEWOOD. Then the grave expounders of the law—the judges—charge the jury, who, upon their oaths, return a verdict—
KING.A glorious institution!
WEDGEWOOD. The shield and protection of the rights of man—the bulwark of civil and religious liberty—and the admiration of the whole civilized world! Democratically odd!
KING.Well—well—well—so justice be done, I care not for the means.
WEDGEWOOD. By jingo, he genuine porcelain! It's all right—fair, square, and above board—a clear field and no favor!
(Enter HAROLD.)
HAROLD. Everything is in preparation. The judges are proceeding to their seats; the jury will soon be sworn, and the prisoners arraigned at the bar—
WEDGEWOOD (to HAROLD.)Who's the crier of the court?
HAROLD.That office is not yet filled. [Exit.
WEDGEWOOD.That won't do—Illegally odd!
KING.Perhaps, Mr. Wedgewood, you would like the appointment yourself?
WEDGEWOOD.If it is convenient.
KING.I confer it upon you.
WEDGEWOOD. Thank Your Majesty. By Jove, we're sailing with wind and tide—a smooth sea below and a clear sky above us!
KING. Well, gentlemen, I wish you a prosperous voyage; but take care that you do not run your vessel upon the rocks of litigation, and founder among the quicksands of the law.
WEDGEWOOD. No danger, Your Majesty, with such a pilot! [ALBERT.]—(Sudden and loud shouts and confused noise without. Drums beat to arms.) What is the meaning of all this commotion?
(Enter HAROLD, in haste.)
KING.Out with it, Harold!
HAROLD. The rumor of the treachery and ingratitude of the prisoners has spread like wildfire throughout the city—
KING.Well!—
HAROLD. The populace are in a ferment at the indignity offered to our beloved monarch, and demand the instant execution of the prisoners.
KING.Well, well; say on.
HAROLD. The multitude crowd every avenue to the palace, and the chateau of the countess; and the royal guards are under arms to preserve the public peace.
KING.So, so, so, so—
COUNTESS.O Heaven! what will become of us?
KING (proudly.) Have you not the king's protection? I will appear among my children, who are so apprehensive about my safety, that they sometimes forget themselves, and become a little unruly. They will be satisfied when they hear and see their father. (Seeing the COUNTESS look dejected.) Do not droop madam; your GUILTY SON shall have a fair and impartial trial. (Taking her hand—To ALBERT sternly.) Look to it, sir; for if you fail, you know what follows! (Exit FREDERICK and COUNTESS—Immense cheering and beating of drums without.)
WEDGEWOOD. Bravo! He's a trump.—Bless me! a popular commotion!—No matter—I am crier of the court! Let me catch any of the little boys making a noise in the halls of justice—that's all! I'll make the king himself mind his P's and Q's, if he dares to interfere with OUR grave deliberations! I will act as becomes my station. His Majesty has a jewel in me, and I'll convince him that authority in my hands is a knock-down argument—so-fist-ically odd!
SONG—WEDGEWOOD.That law's the perfection of reason,No one in his senses denies;Yet here is a trial for treasonWill puzzle the wigs of the wise.The lawyers who bring on the actionOn one single point will agree,Though proved to their own satisfactionThat tweedle-dum's NOT tweedle-dee!
To settle disputes, in a furyThe sword from the scabbard we draw;But reason appeals to a jury,And settles—according to law.Then hey for the woolsack!—for neverWithout it can nations be free;But trial by jury for ever!And for tyranny—fiddle-de-dee!
[Exit.
Discovered. The whole stage is thrown open, and represents the Hall of the Palace at Potsdam, arranged as a court-room. On a carpeted platform is the royal seat of state, occupied by three JUDGES. On the right and left of them are cushioned seats for the KING and his retinue, and OFFICERS of state. In front of the judgement-seat is a large center-table, on which are various law-books and the Prussian Vase. Around the table are suitable places for the ADVOCATES in the cause. On each side are elevated benches, occupied by the GIRLS of the Factory, behind whom are stationed platoons of the ROYAL GUARDS. At the end of the benches on the right is the jury-box, with twelve JURORS, and the desk of the CRIER, on which is a small mallet. Around the whole stage is a large gallery, crowded with the CITIZENS of Potsdam.—The entire scene is intended to represent an English Criminal Court of Law of the olden time, in full costume, with scarlet robes, ermine gowns, etc.—The following CHARACTERS are discovered in their respective places: BARON ALTENBERG, the ATTORNEY-GENERAL and ADVOCATE for the crown; the WORKMEN of the Factory, as WITNESSES; the JAILOR, HANS, GERTRUDE, HAROLD, and CORPORAL; COUNT LANISKA, guarded, attended by the COUNTESS and FREDERICA; SOPHIA MANSFIELD, guarded, and attended by Factory-GIRLS; ALBERT, as ADVOCATE for the PRISONERS, and WEDGEWOOD, as CRIER of the Court; OFFICERS of state, LADIES of the Court, PORTERS of the Hall, and the KING.—This scene is accompanied by the ORCHESTRA.—Music as the scene opens—
CHORUS.With mercy let justiceTo mortals be given,For Justice and MercyAre twin-born in heaven!
(As BARON ALTENBERG rises, WEDGEWOOD says, in a subdued tone of voice, and very respectfully.)
WEDGEWOOD.Silence in the court!
ALTENBERG. May it please your lordships, these facts are not denied: the inscription in the handwriting of the count; his free access to the factory; his frequent use of the word TYRANT when speaking of the king; his earnest interest in the Saxon maid; her love for the count, and her opposition to the will of our most gracious sovereign for allotting her to the overseer as his bride: and they all unite in establishing their crime, the punishment of which is DEATH. Had not His Majesty chanced to wipe off, with his own handkerchief, the blue paint which concealed the word TYRANT, the vase would have been sent to Paris, the king and people disgraced, and the criminals safe in Saxony. Yes, gentlemen (to the JURY,) this splendid ornament, which is to be known to all future ages as "The Prussian Vase," is defaced with the treasonable inscription—"To Frederick the Great Tyrant."
KING (rising in excitement, and forgetting himself.) Yes, soldiers and subjects, friends and children, this word is applied to ME—to your FATHER—by these base ingrates here!—
CHORUSShame, shame, shame!Long live the king! etc.
WEDGEWOOD (in a commanding tone, and striking the desk with his mallet.)Silence in the court, or I'll put you in the stocks, juvenile delinquents and all!What an odd people!
KING. I beg the indulgence of your lordships for my infirmities of temper. Let the cause proceed. (Takes his seat.)
JUDGE. The case for the crown, gentlemen, is fully before you, and is submitted in the confidence that you will discharge your duty faithfully.
KING (again forgetting himself.)Ay, discharge your duty faithfully!
WEDGEWOOD (with great authority rapping on the desk.)Silence in the court, Your Majesty!
JUDGE.Let the counsel for the prisoners now proceed.
ALBERT.Place Karl in the witness-box.
(Enter KARL and HAROLD.)
SOLO and CHORUS.
KARL.What outrage more, at whose commandAm I thus shackled and restrained?—What mockery's this? In this free landThe subject's rights should be maintained.
CHORUS.The traitor braves the king's command!
KARL.Those whom the lion would ensnare,Should of his reckless fangs beware!The forest-monarch, held at bay,Will turn and spring upon his prey!
CHORUS.Thus bold will guilt full oft appear!—The sword of Justice let HIM fear!
WEDGEWOOD (as KARL is placed in the witness-box.)Silence in the court!
CHORUS.With mercy let justiceTo mortals be given;For Mercy and JusticeAre twin-borne of heaven.
KARL.Why am I summoned here against my will?
ALBERT.You are here to answer, not to question, sirrah!
KARL.By what authority do YOU command my answers? In these realms the king alone commands.
KING (again forgetting himself.)That's true—that's very true—the king alone commands—
WEDGEWOOD (shaking his mallet at the KING.)What, Your Majesty—you will—will you?
KING.Oh, I have forgotten myself again! (Takes his seat.) Confound the fellow!
KARL (aside.)The king here? Then I have one friend at least on whom I may rely. (To KING.)Shall I—may I speak freely?
KING. The king has no authority now. (Pointing to the jury-box.) There are the sovereigns of the people, and to them you must appeal. (Aside.) What a situation for a monarch!
ALBERT (to KARL.)You know yon Saxon maid and the Count Laniska?
KARL.I do, and HATE the count!
ALBERT.Wherefore?
KARL. He has thwarted my designs!—No, no, I mean not THAT! I mean that I hate him because he plotted treason against the king, and wrote "Tyrant" upon the vase.
ALBERT.Did he write it?
KARL.He did—these eyes beheld him.
COUNT (aside.)The perjured caitiff!
SOPHIA.O Heaven, have mercy upon us!
COUNTESS.They are lost!
(COUNTESS leans on FREDERICA. The KING beckons to HAROLD, who goes to him. They engage in earnest conversation, occasionally pointing to KARL. HAROLD is supposed to be informing him of the arrest of KARL in SOPHIA's cell. KARL leaves the witness-box, and is about to retire, but is stopped by HAROLD.)
ALBERT.Call the German inn-keeper to the stand. [HANS is placed in the box.
KARL (aside.)I tremble with apprehension!
ALBERT (to HANS.)You deal in colors—do you not?
HANS.Yaw, mynherr.
ALBERT.Have you sold any in Berlin lately?
HANS. Yaw, mynheer; I sold some of der Prussian blue to der Hungarian overseer of der factory, who gave me monish to say notting about it. He tried der quality upon dis little scrap of baper, vich he forgot, and vich I kept, mit der intention of giving him back ven I saw him again. It is scrawled all over mit der word "Tyrant."
KARL (forgetting himself.)That paper's mine—give it me!
WEDGEWOOD (instantly snatching the paper and holding it up, exclaims in a loud tone)It's not convenient! (Hands the paper to ALBERT, who reads it to the JUDGES.)
ALBERT. An attempt to imitate the handwriting of the count. Compare it with the word upon the vase.
JUDGE.It is the same!
CHORUS.Huzza! huzza! etc.
WEDGEWOOD (forgetting himself, after the chorus has finished, shouts at the top of his voice,) Huzza!—(which the KING observing, rises to call him to order; when WEDGEWOOD, noticing the KING, places his hand upon his own mouth; and looking round, and holding his mallet in a threatening manner over KARL, who is silent by way of excusing his mistake, says)—But silence in the court! (The KING, shaking his finger at WEDGEWOOD, takes his seat; HANS leaves the box.)
ALBERT.Place that workman on the stand. (It is done.) Did you ever see this vase before?
WORKMAN.Yes, sir.
ALBERT.Where?
WORKMAN. I saw Karl receive it for the furnace, and I saw him marking upon it with a sharp instrument, which he suddenly hid in his bosom. (KARL feels for his dagger, and half draws it, looking at SOPHIA ferociously. SOPHIA observes him narrowly, and with great apprehension.)
ALBERT.Who took the vase from the furnace?
WORKMAN.Karl.
ALBERT.Who had possession of it afterward?
WORKMAN.Karl.
ALBERT.Who pointed out the word "Tyrant" to the king at the fete of the countess?
KING (rising with great emotion, and entirely forgetting himself.)Karl!
ALBERT.Who has misled, blinded, and deceived the king?
KING (with great emotion.)Traitorous, fiendlike Karl!
KARL (aloud.)I am stunned with horror!
KING (leaving his seat and coming down in great haste—WEDGEWOOD raises his hammer.)By your leave, Mr. Wedgewood.
CHORUS (as the KING descends.)Long live the king! etc.
(the KING takes his station in the center of the stage, and lifts his hat.)
KING.If the court please—
WEDGEWOOD (aside.)Bravo! His Majesty is becoming a principal witness! (In a subdued tone of voice.)Silence in the court!—The king speaks!
KING (rapidly.) I see it all! The case is clear. Karl had my permission to espouse Sophia. She refused him. Laniska loved her. Karl hated him, and planned her destruction; visited her in prison; tried to force her to fly the country with him; she refused, and he would have slain her, had not Mr. Wedgewood, the Advocate, and Harold—who has just told me all—struck him to the ground. Karl plotted this mischief—Karl bought the paint—Karl wrote the word—and Karl shall DIE!
KARL (draws his dagger.) But not unavenged! (He darts toward SOPHIA, and makes an attempt to stab her. SOPHIA shrieks, and runs to LANISKA. All the CHARACTERS rise, greatly excited, and watch the scene with deep interest. The GUARDS present their pikes to the breast of KARL, who is seized by HAROLD and CORPORAL—in the brief struggle with whom, KARL's shirt-sleeve is torn open, and the felon's brand is discovered on his arm. To this ALBERT points in triumph—Tableau.—The whole action is instantaneous.)
HAROLD (with great eagerness.)Behold, my liege, the felon's brand! (Presto!—all start with astonishment.)
CHORUS.Now, who's the traitor?
[The JURYMEN rise.
QUITETTE and CHORUS.
KARL.The javelin from an unseen handWas sent that laid me low!—Behold exposed the felon's brandUnto my mortal foe!
CHORUS.Who's now the traitor? etc.
JUDGE (promptly.)What say the jury?
FOREMAN (promptly.)The prisoners are innocent! (Presto!—all start with joy.)
CHORUS.The prisoners are innocent! etc.
(Some of the CHARACTERS clasp their hands—others embrace. SOPHIA and LANISKA turn to ALBERT, and the COUNTESS and FREDERICA to the KING, in gratitude.)
KARL.Oh, rage and fury! (KARL is secured by HAROLD and CORPORAL.)
CHORUS.Rejoice! our loyal hearts we bringAs free-will offerings to the king!
SOLO—SOPHIA and KING.Oh, let me to thy ermine cling.In gratitude, (kneels,) God bless the king!
CHORUS.God save the king!Long live the king! etc.
(The WORKMEN and GIRLS of the Factory, ADVOCATES, OFFICERS, SOLDIERS, LADIES, and GENTLEMEN, SPECTATORS, and all the CHARACTERS on the stage, indicate by appropriate and spontaneous action the deep and intense interest they take in the verdict.—KARL gasps and faints, and is supported by HAROLD and CORPORAL.—WEDGEWOOD notices the tableau with great self-complacency—[The whole action is simultaneous]—KARL is borne off by HAROLD and CORPORAL. All the CHARACTERS then turn, and by looks and actions congratulate each other, and the scene instantly becomes one of general joy.)
KING. This court is now dissolved. (The principal CHARACTERS leave their stations; and all the PARTIES, except the JUDGES and those in the gallery, come upon the stage.—To the JUDGES.) Your lordships must pardon all irregularities. This is the first trial by jury that ever took place in Prussia. Hereafter, no human power shall interrupt your grave deliberations. (To COUNT LANISKA.) Count Laniska, I took your sword from you this morning: I here present you mine. (COUNT kneels, and receives it.)
COUNT.This, with my life, I dedicate to Your Majesty's service!
KING (to ALBERT.) As for you, sir, the sword, is not your weapon. (HAROLD advances with a golden pen upon a velvet cushion. ALBERT kneels.) Receive this emblem of far greater power than all the implements of war, and wield it for the benefit of mankind. Rise, Baron—
ALBERT.Mansfield, Your Majesty—
KING (with surprise.)Mansfield?
SOPHIA.My heart was not deceived! My long-lost brother!
ALBERT (ALBERT and SOPHIA rush into each other's arms.)My dear, dear sister!
KING (looking at them.) So, so, so! Oh, what an old fool I have been! (Looking around.) Come hither, Sophia. (She advances; the KING takes her hand.) I owe you some amends for your long and patient suffering on my account (taking the COUNT's hand)—and thus I make them. (SOPHIA and LANISKA join hands joyfully.) How well the criminals understand each other! (Rubbing his hands, and walking joyfully about the stage.) Ah, Mr. Wedgewood, I don't care if I take a pinch of snuff out of that same box I gave you the other day.
WEDGEWOOD (presenting box.) Your Majesty has added to its value a diamond worth all the rest, in finding it is large enough for two of us.
KING. Good! (Notices FREDERICA.) What! Frederica, my fair namesake and little god-daughter—in the dumps? (Looking at ALBERT.) Oh, I understand. (To COUNTESS.) By your leave madam. (Hands FREDERICA to ALBERT.) You perceive, Mr. Wedgewood, that I have a large family to look after and provide for; but I am a happy father, sir—mine are good children, very good children! I wish I had more like these.
WEDGEWOOD (significantly.)If Your Majesty goes on in this way, there'll be plenty more—IN TIME.
KING. All are now satisfied—at least I hope all are so here. (To the audience.) If, as a king, I may, on another occasion, command an audience—
WEDGEWOOD (forgetting himself, lifting his mallet and flourishing it like anauctioneer.)Going! (Recollecting himself.)—I mean—(slowly and with gravity)—s-i-l-e-n-c-e i-nt-h-e c-o-u-r-t! (meaning the audience.)
KING.These witnesses will, I am sure, attend the next trial of The Maid of Saxony—
WEDGEWOOD.If it is convenient.
FINALE.Our hearts are bounding with delight!'Tis Freedom's jubilee!For right has triumphed over might—The bond again are free!Hurrah!—hurrah!Let the welkin ringTo Justice and LibertyPaeans we sing!
(Tableau—Curtain falls.)
End of the Maid of Saxony.
Notes.
The Deserted Bride (page 51.)
This poem was written after seeing Miss Fanny Kemble, for the first time, in one scene of "The Hunchback."
The Croton Ode (page 57.)
Written at the request of the Corporation of the city of New York, and sung near the Park Fountain by the members of the New York Sacred Music Society, on the completion of the Croton Aqueduct, October, 14, 1842.
Woodman, Spare That Tree! (page 64.)
Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a friend, who was once the expectant heir of the largest estate in America, but over whose worldly prospects a blight has recently come, he invited me to turn down a little romantic woodland pass not far from Bloomingdale. "Your object?" inquired I. "Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather, near a cottage that was once my father's."—"The place is yours, then?" said I. "No, my poor mother sold it;" and I observed a slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that circumstance. "Dear mother!" resumed my companion, "we passed many happy, HAPPY days, in that old cottage; but it is nothing to me now—father, mother, sisters, cottage—all are gone!"—and a paleness over-spread his fine countenance, and a moisture came to his eyes, as he spoke. After a moment's pause, he added: "Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is, I never ride out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a familiar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone summer-time it was a friend indeed. Under its branches I often listened to the good counsel of my parents, and had SUCH gambols with my sisters! Its leaves are all off now, so you won't see it to advantage, for it is a glorious old fellow in summer; but I like it full as well in winter-time." These words were scarcely uttered, when my companion cried out, "There it is?" Near the tree stood an old man, with his coat off, sharpening an ax. He was the occupant of the cottage. "What do you intend doing?" asked my friend with great anxiety. "What is that to you?" was the blunt reply. "You are not going to cut that tree down, surely?"—"Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. "What for?" inquired my companion, almost choked with emotion. "What for? Why, because I think proper to do so. What for? I like that! Well, I'll tell you what for. This tree makes my dwelling unhealthy; it stands too near the house: prevents the moisture from exhaling, and renders us liable to fever-and-ague."—"Who told you that?"—"Dr. S—-."—"Have you any other reason for wishing to cut it down?"—"Yes, I am getting old; the woods are a great way off, and this tree is of some value to me to burn." He was soon convinced, however, that the story about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there never had been a case of that disease in the neighborhood; and then was asked what the tree was worth for firewood. "Why, when it is down, about ten dollars." "Suppose I make you a present of that amount, will you let it stand?"—"Yes."—"You are sure of that?"—"Positive."—"Then give me a bond to that effect." I drew it up; it was witnessed by his daughter; the money was paid, and we left the place with an assurance from the young girl, who looked as smiling and beautiful as Hebe, that the tree should stand as long as she lived. We returned to the road, and pursued our ride. These circumstances made a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished me with materials for the song I herewith send you.—Extract from a Letter to Henry Russell, the Vocalist, dated New York, February 1, 1837.
The Chieftain's Daughter (page 78.)
"Every part of the brief but glorious life of Pocahontas is calculated to produce a thrill of admiration, and to reflect the highest honor on her name. The most memorable event of her life is this recorded: After a long consultation among the Indians, the fate of Captain Smith, who was the leader of the first colony in Virginia, was decided. The conclave resumed their silent gravity. Two huge stones were placed near the water's edge; Smith was lashed to them, and his head was laid down, as a preparation for beating out his brains with war-clubs. Powhattan raised the fatal instrument, and the savage multitude with their blood-stained weapons stood near their king, silently waiting the prisoner's last moment. But Smith was not destined to thus perish. Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the king, rushed forward, fell upon her knees, and, with tears and entreaties, prayed that the victim might be spared. The royal savage rejected her suit, and commanded her to leave Smith to his fate. Grown frantic at the failure of her supplications, Pocahontas threw her arms about Smith, and laid her head on his, her raven hair falling around his neck and shoulders, declaring she would perish with or save him. The Indians gasped for breath, fearing that Powhatan would slay his child for taking such a deep interest in the fate of one he considered his deadliest foe. But human nature is the same everywhere; the war-club dropped from the monarch's hand—his brow relaxed—his heart softened; and, as he raised his brave daughter to his bosom, and kissed her forehead, he reversed his decree, and directed Smith to be set at liberty! Whether the regard of this glorious girl for Smith ever reached the feeling of love, is not known. No favor was ever expected in return. 'I ask nothing of Captain Smith,' said she, in an interview she afterward had with him in England, 'in recompense for what I have done, but the boon of living in his memory.' John Randolph was a lineal descendant of this noble woman, and was wont to pride himself upon the honor of his descent. Pocahontas died in the twenty-second year of her age."—sketches of Virginia.
Song of Marion's Men (page 82.)
"Sallie St. Clair was a beautiful, dark-eyed Creole girl. The whole treasury of her love was lavished upon Sergeant Jasper, who, on one occasion, had the good fortune to save her life. The prospect of their separation almost maddened her. To sever her long, jetty ringlets from her exquisite head—to dress in male attire—to enroll herself in the corps to which he belonged, and follow his fortunes in the wars, unknown to him—was a resolution no sooner conceived than taken. In the camp she attracted no particular attention, except on the night before battle, when she was noticed bending over his couch, like a good and gentle spirit, as if listening to his dreams. The camp was surprised, and a fierce conflict ensued. The lovers were side by side in the thickest of the fight; but, endeavoring to turn away a lance aimed at the heart of Jasper, the poor girl received it in her own, and fell bleeding at his feet. After the victory, her name and sex were discovered, and there was not a dry eye in the corps when Sallie St. Clair was laid in her grave, near the river Santee, in a green, shady nook, that looked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise."—Tales of Marion's Men.
Janet McRea (page 83.)
"We seated ourselves in the shade of a large pine-tree, and drank of a spring that gurgled beneath it. The Indians gave a groan, and turned their faces from the water. They would not drink of the spring, nor eat in the shade of the tree; but retired to a ledge of rocks at no great distance. I ventured to approach them and inquire the cause of their strange conduct. One of the Indians said, in a deep and solemn tone: 'That place is bad for the red-man; the blood of an innocent woman, not of our enemies, rests upon that spot!—She was there murdered. The red-man's word had been pledged for her safety; but the evil spirit made him forget it. She lies buried there. No one avenged her murder, and the Great Spirit was angry. That water will make us more thirsty, and that shade will scorch us. The stain of blood is on our hands, and we know not how to wipe it out. It still rests upon us, do what we will.' I could get no more from them; they were silent, even for Indians. It was the death of Miss McRea they alluded to. She was betrothed to a young American by the name of Jones, who had taken sides with the British, and become a captain of their service. The lovers, however, had managed to keep up a correspondence; and he was informed, after a battle in which he distinguished himself for his bravery, that his inamorata was concealed in a house a few miles from Sandy-Hill. As it was dangerous for him to take his horse to her residence and bring her to his tent in safety. He urged her, in his letter, not to hesitate a moment in putting herself under their protection; and the voice of a lover is law to a confiding woman. They proceeded on their journey, and stopped to rest under a large pine-tree near a spring—the one at which we drank. Here they were met by another party of Indians, also sent by the impatient lover, when a quarrel arouse about her which terminated in her assassination. One of the Indians pulled the poor girl from her horse; and another struck his tomahawk in her forehead, tore off her scalp, and gashed her breast! They then covered her body with leaves, and left her under the huge pine-tree. One of the Indians made her lover acquainted with the facts, and another brought him her scalp. He knew the long brown tresses of Miss McRea, and, in defiance of all danger, flew to the spot to realize the horrid scene. He tore away the thinly-spread leaves—clasped the still-bleeding body in his arms, and, wrapping it in his cloak, was about bearing it away, when he was prevented by his superior officers, who ordered the poor girl to be buried on the spot where she had been immolated. After this event a curse seemed to rest upon the red-man. In every battle their forces were sadly cut up—the Americans attacking them most furiously whenever they could get an opportunity. The prophets of the Indians had strange auguries; they saw constantly in the clouds the form of the murdered white woman, invoking the blasts to overwhelm them, and direction all the power and fury of the Americans to exterminate every red-man of the forest who had committed the hateful deed of breaking his faith and staining the tomahawk with the blood of a woman, whose spirit still called for revenge. It was agreed among the Indians in a body to move silently away; and by morning's light not a red-man was to be found near the British troops. Captain Jones, too, was no more. In the battle he led on his men with that fearlessness and fury that distressed minds often do; but his men grew tired of following him in such perilous attacks, and began to fly. As he returned to rally them he received a ball in the back. Burning with shame, love, and frenzy, he tuned and threw himself on the bayonets of the enemy, and at once closed his agonies and expiated his political offence. He was laid by the side of her he had so ardently loved and deeply lamented."—Events of the Revolution.
The Dog Star Rages.
They're gone with my last shilling. (Page 88.)"This is a fact, and no poetic fable."—Byron
Florence's Saloon. (Page 88.)A much-frequented restaurant in Broadway.
Sunny-Side. (Page 88.)The country residence of Washington Irving.
The luxury of we. (Page 89.)W-H-O-A!
A wheel rigged for a tiller. (Page 90.)A peculiarity of Commodore Christopher B. Miller's yacht, "The Ultra."
Long live the valiant Mayor. (Page 91.) "If you want me," said His Honor, at the Astor-Place riots, on the evening of the 10th of May, 1849, "you will FIND ME—AT THE NEW-YORK HOTEL!"
The Prairie on Fire (page 131.)
This ballad is founded, in part, upon a thrilling story of the West, related byMr. Cooper, the novelist.
The Sweep's Carol (page 146.)
Written to be sung in character, for the purpose of introducing the wild, peculiar, and well-known cry or carol of the sweeps of New York.
The Fallen Brave of Mexico (page 166.)
Written at the request of the Corporation of New York, for the funeral solemnities to Lieutenant-colonel Baxter, Captains Barclay and Pierson, and Lieutenants Chandler and Gallagher, of the New York Volunteers, who died upon the battle-fields of Mexico. Sung by the members of the New York Sacred Music Society, on Wednesday, the 12th day of July, 1848, in front of the City Hall.
The Champions of Liberty (page 169.)
Written, at the request of the Common Council of the city of New York, for the funeral solemnities in honor of the gallant and lamented Major-General Worth, Colonel Duncan, and Major Gates, late of the United States army. Sung by the Sacred Music Society in the balcony in front of City Hall, Thursday, November 15, 1849.
The Rock of the Pilgrims (page 182.)
"The Mayflower having arrived in the harbor from Cape Cod, Mary Chilton entered the first landing-boat, and, looking forward, exclaimed, 'I will be the first to step on that rock.' Accordingly, when the boat approached, Mary Chilton was permitted to be the first from that boat who appeared on the rock, and thus her claim was established."—Thacker's "History of Plymouth," p. 30.
The Soldier's Welcome Home (page 184.)
Sung at the New York Tabernacle, on the evening of April 18, 1849, by Mr. Nash, with a chorus of a thousand voices.
The Origin of Yankee Doodle (page 185.)
This jeau d'esprit was written for and sung by the Hutchinson Family.
New York in 1826 (page 189.)
This address, which has a local interest, is republished at the request of several of the author's friends—one of whom "desires to preserve it as one of the curiosities of rhyme;" and another "as a picture of New York, and its belongings, a quarter of a century ago."
Stanza I (page 189.)"S. W." are the initials of my much lamented friend, the late Samuel Woodworth, Esq.
She whispers of coaches,/And lockets and broaches— refers to the holiday-presents in vogue at the time.
Stanza II (page 190.) contains the name of an institution whose failure created great consternation on Wall street.
Stanza IV (page 190.) Gas-light was introduced into New York about that period, and the gas-burners were formed in the shapes here mentioned.
Stanza V (page 191.)
Seats on the Battery. At the time alluded to there were none; and there was incessant warfare between the press and the lessees of Castle Garden, which was finally settled by the interposition of the Common Council, who caused seats to be placed on the Battery for the accommodation of the public.
Stanza VI (page 191.)This stanza contains the names of the fashionable poets and editors of the day.
Stanza VII (page 192.) Lafayette visited New York during the administration of Governor Clinton. The stanza also alludes to the then-recent completion of the Erie Canal, and to the troubles in Greece, which occupied much of the public attention.
Stanza VIII (page 192.)The Bowery Theatre was built in 1826.
Stanza X (page 193.) The Garcia troupe were then performing at the Park Theatre, and they were the first that produced Italian operas in this country. The Kean Riot had recently occurred.
Stanza XI (page 193.) Names of the Museums and other shows, giants and Indians being then their principal attractions.
Stanza XII (page 194.)Descriptive of the manner in which the New Year was ushered in.
Stanza XIII (page 194.)The "New York Mirror" was one of the earliest periodicals devoted to American letters.
The Maid of Saxony (page 245.)
This Opera was first performed at the Park Theatre, on the 25th of May, 1842, and ran fourteen successive nights. It was entirely and completely successful, being nightly received with cheers.