ARNOLD, HENRY, CONRAD, AND ROLAND, LEAD
MOTHER SCHWARTZ, THE FORGE-WOMAN; JAN, HER SON, AND HANS CLEF, LEADERS OF THE RABBLE.
If you forget the service, so do I – COUNTS NICHOLAS, SEGBERT, AND FABIAN, AD- But not that we are foes!
HERENTS OF LORD KRONBERG.
SOLDIERS, AND OTHER SUBORDINATE CHARAC- Wouldst beard me to my face! I tell thee, traitor,
I have mine eyes upon thee, and thy father-
I know wherefore ye harbour in your walls
The disaffected rabble-why thou comest
To ask alliance with me, then to beard me!
Phil. of M. My lord, this quarrel was not of my
seeking.
A magnificent room in the Castle of Kronberg. Enter the LORD OF KRONBERG, and PHILIP OF MAINE.
Lord of Kronberg. Good, good! you seek alliance with my house!
Philip of Maine. I do, my lord.
Lord of K. Too long I have forborne! I know
your views -
I know what your ambition lusteth after:
Words you can give, where words weigh more than
gold;
What next, fair sir! Can stir up the fierce spirit of the people;
The honour
Call them oppressed, poor, wronged, and injured peo-
Of your fair daughter's hand I ask, nought more. Lord of K. Nought to maintain her on! no marriage dower
No broad lands, as a daughter's appanage?
Phil. of M. I came not now as pleader of their
Or, to your face, I'd tell you, you're a tyrant!
Phil. of M. I asked her, for herself! Broad lands Think but of those poor workers in the loom,
Came not within my count.
Lord of K.
True, true, most true!
The heir of Maine doth count so little gold,
He wots not of its worth! A wife, young man,
Would add some items to your yearly charges!
Phil. of M. Too well I know the fortunes of our house
Are not, what once they were-scoff not, my lord,
An emperor's daughter has allied with us;
And 't is an ancient, honourable house:
I will retrieve its fortunes! good my lord,
My youth is in its prime the wars are open-
"T was by the strong right hand, we won our honours!
Lord of K. Wouldst be a wooer, ay? wouldst
woo my daughter?
All dying in your streets, who might have earned
A decent maintenance, save for your edict—
Listen to their demands, they are but just!
Lord of K. Wouldst thou dictate this, that, and
the other to me?-
Demand my daughter first, then rule the state?
Phil. of M. Who 're they that cry for bread morn-
ing and night,
Whom you refuse a morsel? Your poor burghers,
Whose fathers fought for you! They are not stones,
That they should not complain!
Lord of K.
"Tis such as you,
With busy meddling, that disturb their souls!
But get thee hence! and let me counsel thee-
Go marry thee, to some poor plodder's daughter
Will keep your house in order, mend thy hose,
Art worth a sword? canst draw one? canst thou And patch the old man's doublet!
ride?
Canst hunt? canst hold a hawk? canst read? canst That noble, good old lord, or by the gods,
write?
I shall forget myself!
Lord of K.
Hence with thee, prating fool! wouldst take a wife, for- Hence with thee, ere I summon one, whose trade Is to chastise young insolence like thine!
Lord of K. And this is he, to whom the people look
As to a new Messiah! Heaven and earth!
Am I to stand girt round with armed men,
And thus be threatened? What are dungeons for,
But to confine such rebels! Out upon me,
To let such meddlers loose! Marry my daughter!
Nor have I asked By Jove, I'll marry him to the strongest chains
Within my deepest dungeon!
Upstart fool! Wouldst match thyself with me!
This honour uninvited! Your own mouth
Swore to vouchsafe whate'er my tongue should crave,
For certain trivial service, at my rating;
At yours, for loyalty beyond all price!
Those old dues, Which as my vassals they have long withstood, I will demand, and lay strong hold on them
As forfeit of the soil! Go to, I'll do it;
And come what will, I'll crush this house of Maine!
[He goes out.
Ida's apartment · Ida and Bertha together· Bertha has a bunch of lilies of the valley in her hand.
And each decaying vestige of his greatness,
Provoked a curse upon us. Strange it was,
Our fathers hating thus, our mothers loved,
And were each other's dear, though secret friend.
And yet they were so different!
My sweet mother
Was a mild, delicate lady, meek and timid
She had hard measure dealt her by her husband;
Alas, that I should say 't, and yet 't was so!
She had no friend to counsel or console her,
Ida. Nay, blame him not! Why need he shun to ask Save Philip's mother; and to her she opened
My hand in marriage openly? He's brave,
My father knows he is; and his descent
Is noble as mine own; and this adventure
Hath given such fair advantage to his suit
That he may freely, fearlessly avow it!
Berth. He has avowed, and is a fool for's pains!
For what must he come here to make a quarrel·
To spoil the daintiest romance that e'er
Gladdened the dull life of a castled lady!
I told thee how 't would be- I knew my uncle
Better than thou or he did!
Ida.
That he should have his asking, be 't what 't would;
And that their ancient hate should be forgotten :—
I know he 'll not gainsay 't!
Berth.
He will! he has!
And even now has sworn his utter ruin-
It is one thing to promise while in danger,
But a far different to fulfil in safety.
There is a gulph of hate, wider than ever,
That sunders you, which love can ne'er o'erpass!
Ida. Nay, Bertha, nay, Philip will ne'er desert
me!
Her inmost bleeding heart. Oh, how I loved
The Lady of Maine for weeping with my mother-
She was a Lutheran; a grave, stern woman,
Of a majestic presence; such a one
As would have kept a fortress through a siege,
And died ere she had yielded!-- I can see her,
In her black velvet robe, and hooded coif,
Sitting beside my mother, and out-pouring
Her eloquent consolations. I then wondered
What they could mean - I understood them after!
And I remember, from my earliest childhood,
Whene'er my father went unto the chase,
We paid our secret visits; he ne'er knew
What a great love there was between our mothers.
And what a gloomy place was that of Maine!
Silent, and full of old, decaying things;
Old pictures, and old tarnished furniture.
And I remember roaming up and down
Its gloomy halls with Philip, then a boy;
And all the legends old, he used to tell me,
Of dames, and warrior-lords, and armed ghosts,
Live in my memory yet. Ah, 't was unkind
To fling these flowers away!-But I've not told thee
Berth. Philip hath gone from hence as black as Wherefore I love those flowers.
I never saw rage look more terrible
I met him on the stair.
Ida.
Berth. He saw me not, nor spoke, but stalked on,
muttering;
Well, tell me now.
My gentle mother died,
And I was a bereaved child indeed!
The Lady of Maine came never to our house,
E'en in my mother's life, and now but seldom
It was my chance to meet her; yet she loved me;
And while his eyes flashed fire, he flung these flowers And when we met, from her maternal heart
Under his very feet, as if they were
Berth Ay, but he did, as if their touch defiled him!
Ida. Well, then, it is an augury of ill!
Poured counsel out, and blessing, which sustained
My orphaned spirit till we met again.
She was my second mother, well beloved!
Philip and I ne'er met for several years;
Until one eve as I was wandering out,
He stood before me, not the merry boy,
Those flowers were mine, and he knew how I loved But the tall, earnest man—so like his mother!
Ah, gentle cousin, a little moment's space;
The glancing of an eye; one spoken word,
Decides our destiny! We had been friends,
Long-parted friends, and with warm hearts we met!-
He brought me flowers flowers of that very kind,
A token from his mother, who e'en then
Lay at the point of death! Sweet flowers are they,
Which my poor mother loved, and used to gather
From out their garden, for they grew not here.
He knew wherefore I loved them; - and since then
They have been flowers that symbolled love between
Ah, was it not unkind to fling them hence?
His mother died and we two wept together;
But oh, what bliss grew out of that great sorrow!—
Meetings at morn, at noon, at eventide!
What precious hopes of ending that old hate
By our new love! My father knew it not-
Heaven pardon me for that sweet crime of love!
Berth. Why risk so dear a stake upon one throw?
Ida. My father knows his worth, and the strong
hold
He has upon the people; 't were unwise,
In these bad times, to make a foe of Philip.
Berth. Hark, hark, my uncle calleth to the chase!
Ida. It is a cheerful voice, I'll not believe
He is angered, Bertha. Let us go!
Berth. [aside.] The deepest waters ever are the
[They go out.
Enter PHILIP: he throws down his cap without noticing
the stranger.
I've a guest,
Philip; I have a guest, thou see'st him not!
Phil. I crave your pardon, I observed him not!
Lord of M. Where hast thou ridden this morning
-to the chase?
Phil. Am I a child to have my actions questioned?
Enter HILDEBRAND.
Hild. Alas, my lord, the horse you have brought in All in a foaming sweat, trembling each joint, Has dropped down dead;-it has been over-riddennone have we left; And 't is our only horseAnd 't was so lean; the carcase will bring nothing! Phil. The devil take the horse!
I' faith, he does the old man's schooling credit!
Lord of M. [aside to Philip.] "T is a strange mood
is on thee; all unmeet
A desolate room in the Castle of Maine the Lord of For stranger eyes to witness! Pray bethink thee,
Maine and a stranger partaking refreshment.
Lord of M. Yes, sir, three centuries back our house held sway
As princes in this land; lineally descended
From the good Emperor Albert: - Three descents
Give us an emperor's daughter. My grandsire,
The child of this alliance, was accounted
The first man of his age: in council great;
A valiant soldier, and a statesman wise.
Strang. That was the celebrated John of Maine.
Lord of M. The same! all Europe knew him;
Had cause to bless him, save the single state
Which was his patrimony; small enough,
And yet a fair domain, though all too small
For a soul large as his. Hence 't was involved
In that great debt which dragged it to the earth,
Like the wild vine which winds itself about
Some stately forest-free, and bows it down;
Upon whose ruin springs a monstrous growth-
A loathed, fungus-growth, poisonous and rank!
Strang. The House of Kronberg, didst thou plainly
speak,
Thou 'dst liken to this thing.
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Thou art no brawler in the public streets.
Phil. I know not what I am!
Lord of M. [to the stranger.] Pardon me, friend,
And hold it not uncourteous, if I crave
Your absence.
Strang.
Ay, my lord, it is unmeet
A dog should look into a noble's face
If his shoe pinch!
Phil.
How! dost thou prate again?
Strang. [to the Lord of M.] You did propose that
I should judge myself
Of your son's breeding; 'tis a proper youth!
I'd match him against any! ha! ha! ha!
Phil. Out with thee, hound! Out, or thou shalt be gagged!
Strang. Farewell! But as the ghost spoke unto Brutus,
I'll meet with thee again at Phillippi!
[He goes out. Lord of M. For shame! He was a poor man, and a stranger!
Thou hast abashed thy father; and God knows
It was in honest pride I boasted of thee!
Phil. I thank thee not, to make a boast of me!
Lord of M. My son, I cannot understand thy hu-
Phil. Why could'st not breed me up as poor men are ?
Teach me to cringe, to stoop, and humbly beg?
Why could'st not put a hatchet in my hand,
And train my will to use it? What am I?
Noble and yet who may not match with nobles!
Lord of M. What, hast thou at a tournay ridden
again,
And been insulted for thy poverty —
Again been jeered at for a faded doublet?
Phil. No!
Lord of M. Then pray what is this arrant foolery? Phil. If thou will hear it-hear it! I have been To ask Lord Kronberg's daughter's hand in marriage! Lord of M. Thou ask the Lord of Kronberg's daughter's hand!
Good heavens preserve me! Went and bowed thyself Unto that hateful tyrant-asked his daughter!
Phil. Well, what of that? Why need'st thou chafe it o'er
As if 'twere strange that I should love a woman? Lord of M. Were there no women in the world but her
That thou must go and be a cringing fool
To that man of all others!
Phil.
And that man
Shall bow himself to me, and humbly sue
That I would wed his daughter! and by heaven
I will not wed her then! I'll have revenge!
Lord of M. Peace with these hectoring threats, thou boasting fool!
What can he do that's poor and powerless?
Phil. Thou should'st have made me base; have Upon the house of Kronberg-wherefore so,
And shaped me out some humbler path to tread!
Lord of M. I never bade thee ask a wife from
Kronberg,
And bow thyself to him, that he might spurn thee!
Thou hast abased thyself, and me in thee;
Thou art a servile dog, and I could beat thee!
Phil. Stand back, old man!-I'm in no mood of patience
Stand back, my father, and provoke me not!
It matters not, for whom has he not wronged?
And 't is not I alone have sworn revenge,
Nor thou and I-nor twenty more than us—
But twenty times a thousand in this league
Are banded heart and hand!
Phil. [aside.]
Yet in despite
Of my good angel I must listen to him!
Gast. Hear'st thou me?
Lord of M. This was the maddest folly e'er I
I do, what say'st thou farther? Thou hast dwelt in these sequestered glens of Maine,
And hast not known that the great earth went round!
Get thee among the people; to the herds
In the remotest dells, and hear them talk;
They are more of men than thou!
Phil.
In words, perhaps.
Gast. Stand by the vine-dressers upon the hills,
And they will be thy teachers! Ask the mothers,
The earliest words her lisping boy shall speak,
And she will tell thee, curses on the oppressor!
If these arouse thee not, go to the city,
And hear the meagre workman at his loom -
There are who call his muttered musings treason!
Phil. All this I know-I know they curse the tyrant,
And they have need. But how know'st thou they
league
Together for revolt?
Gast.
[He follows Hildebrand. Have bound myself with them- have sworn with
To see the downfall of the house of Kronberg!
Hast thou a heart to do as thou hast sworn,
Several days afterwards—an unfrequented road near The path is open to thee; fortune offers
A golden opportunity; and thou,
If thou art the generous patriot that thou seem'st,
Enter the STRANGER, dressed in the costume of the May'st make thy name as great as that of Brutus
country, as GASTON THE PATRIOT.
I owe him payment for his railing words!
And with full interest will I pay him back
Every indignity! He shall be mine-
Body and soul, in life and death, be mine!
I'll work him to my purpose; for in him
Lie elements of ruin - pride, ambition,
And hatred and revenge, glossed o'er or hidden
By a fair show of patriotic virtues --
The very man to be the people's idol!
Be Father and Preserver of the people!
Phil. By lawful right, the lordship is our own. Gast. The people love you, call you lord already! Phil. Hark ye, my friend, can you gain me access To these caballing spirits in the city?
Gast. Most joyfully! Give me your hand, brave sir
You are the man on whom all hearts are set!
Phil. Let us begone!
Gast.
No moment let us lose!
[They go off together.
A large vaulted room, lighted by an iron lampGaston, Arnold, Henry, Conrad, and three soldiers, sitting round a table, at the head of which is a
Hans. They tore him from his house; his wife
e'en now
Upon her bed of death-his little children
Filling the air with their most piteous voices!
Gast. Whom speak ye of?
Hans.
He had been here, even now
But that he staid to watch his dying wife!
Gast. "T is good to see you here! What are your They heard that he had arms-they searched her
Con. The half of us are armed! We've stinted us
Of food-have lived like dogs, we and our children,
To hoard the means that might obtain us arms!
Rol. Devoted men! Antiquity can boast
No truer hearts than yours!
Arn.
I met, last night,
In the deep glen of Sarni, fifteen men,
Sent out from fifteen districts in the hills,
To swear to us allegiance. Ye may count
Upon five hundred men, both young and old,
Serfs of the soil, who have been trampled on
Till, like the wounded adder, they turn round
And bite the foot that galls them! There are none
Truer than these stout children of the soil!
They'll do the cause good service; and for arms,
Have sworn to turn the sickle and the scythe
To weapons, that shall mow a harvest down,
Redder and richer than the fields afford!
They cast her on the floor, a dying woman;
And in the wretched straw whereon she lay
They found his arms! Oh sirs, they found his arms!
Gast. Pr'ythee whose arms?
Hans.
I told ye, my poor brother's!-
I'll tell ye more—they racked him on the wheel,
And he a feeble man, a child in frame-
He's dead! I saw him die, with mine own eyes!
All. Betrayed he aught?
Hans.
How dare ye ask me that!
Oh I could tear out every tongue that asks
If Wilhelm were a traitor!
Gast. 'Tis well! who now is spokesman for the To bring down tenfold vengeance for the blood
Soldier. All, all are disaffected, as ye know,
And murmur for their long arrears of pay!
And all, excepting four old companies,
Whom Kronberg by his partial favour won,
And over whom command Segbert and Nicholas,
Each several man is yours; and ye may count
Upon ten thousand good and trusty swords,
Wielded by hands omnipotent as death.
Rol. "Tis the ten thousand of the Grecian story!
The invincible ten thousand!
Gast.
Brave, bold hearts!
Soldiers of freedom, welcome to the cause!
And now I scarce need say, that in the city
Five thousand more are leagued unto our band,
Each with his arms, which as his household gods
Make his hearth Freedom's altar!
All is ready,
Saving the most important part of all,
The appointment, time and place, and naming wisely
A general leader of the several bands.
The door suddenly opens, and HANS CLEF, an artificer,
Of this brave man; and for his children's tears.
And for the groan of his poor dying wife-
Gast.
Than utter empty words! will give you him
Who shall accomplish for you your revenge!
[He goes out, and returns leading in
Philip of Maine.
Know ye this man, my friends?
All.
We know him well,
We love him well! "Tis the good heir of Maine!
Gast. Ye know that they of right possess the land.
Rol. The little children know 't!-thus says the
legend,
"Gold and gain, sun and rain,
Came with Maine; and will again!"
Gast. Ye know how they have suffered, like yourselves
Hans. If you have tears within your eyes, weep Their deadliest foe is the cold tyrant Kronberg!
If you have human hearts, let them drop blood -
Oh sirs, I've seen the saddest, saddest sight!
Several voices. What hast thou seen? Say quickly
what thou mean'st!
Henry. Ay, they have suffered sore-and this good
Con. He saved my aged father from the gallows!
Henry. "T was he, that in my quarrel drew his
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