No More Learning

what can he answer?

PRESIDENT. That he will publish to the world the crime by which we rose
to power--that he will denounce our forged letters and receipts--that he
will send us both to the scaffold. That is what he can answer.

MARSHAL. Are you out of your mind?

PRESIDENT. Nay, that is what he has already answered? He was actually
on the point of putting these threats into execution; and it was only by
the most abject submission that I could persuade him to abandon his
design. What say you to this, marshal?

MARSHAL (with a look of bewildered stupidity). I am at my wits' end!

PRESIDENT. That might have blown over. But my spies have just brought
me notice that the grand cupbearer, von Bock, is on the point of offering
himself as a suitor to her ladyship.

MARSHAL. You drive me distracted! Whom did you say? Von Bock? Don't
you know that we are mortal enemies? And don't you know why?

PRESIDENT. The first word that I ever heard of it!

MARSHAL. My dear count! You shall hear--your hair will stand on end!
You must remember the famous court ball--it is now just twenty years ago.
It was the first time that English country-dances were introduced--you
remember how the hot wax trickled from the great chandelier on Count
Meerschaum's blue and silver domino. Surely, you cannot have forgotten
that affair!

PRESIDENT. Who could forget so remarkable a circumstance!

MARSHAL. Well, then, in the heat of the dance Princess Amelia lost her
garter. The whole ball, as you may imagine, was instantly thrown into
confusion. Von Bock and myself--we were then fellow-pages--crept through
the whole saloon in search of the garter. At length I discovered it.
Von Bock perceives my good-fortune--rushes forward--tears it from my
hands, and, just fancy--presents it to the princess, and so cheated me of
the honor I had so fortunately earned. What do you think of that?

PRESIDENT. 'Twas most insolent!

MARSHAL. I thought I should have fainted upon the spot. A trick so
malicious was beyond the powers of mortal endurance. At length I
recovered myself; and, approaching the princess, said,--"Von Bock, 'tis
true, was fortunate enough to present the garter to your highness; but he
who first discovered that treasure finds his reward in silence, and is
dumb! "

PRESIDENT. Bravo, marshal! Admirably said! Most admirable!

MARSHAL. And is dumb! But till the day of judgment will I remember his
conduct--the mean, sneaking sycophant! And as if that were not
aggravation enough, he actually, as we were struggling on the ground for
the garter, rubbed all the powder from one side of my peruke with his
sleeve, and ruined me for the rest of the evening.

PRESIDENT. This is the man who will marry Lady Milford, and consequently
soon take the lead at court.

MARSHAL. You plunge a dagger in my heart! But why must he? Why should
he marry her? Why he? Where is the necessity?

PRESIDENT. Because Ferdinand refuses her, and there is no other
candidate.

MARSHAL. But is there no possible method of obtaining your son's
consent? Let the measure be ever so extravagant or desperate--there is
nothing to which I should not willingly consent in order to supplant the
hated von Bock.

PRESIDENT. I know but one means of accomplishing this, and that rests
entirely with you.

MARSHAL. With me? Name it, my dear count, name it!

PRESIDENT. You must set Ferdinand and his mistress against each other.

MARSHAL. Against each other? How do you mean? --and how would that be
possible.

PRESIDENT. Everything is ours could we make him suspect the girl.

MARSHAL. Ah, of theft, you mean?

PRESIDENT. Pshaw! --he would never believe that! No, no--I mean that she
is carrying on an intrigue with another.

MARSHAL. And this other, who is he to be?

PRESIDENT. Yourself!

MARSHAL. How? Must I be her lover? Is she of noble birth?

PRESIDENT. What signifies that? What an idea! --she is the daughter of a
musician.

MARSHAL. A plebeian? --that will never do!

PRESIDENT. What will never do? Nonsense, man! Who in the name of
wonder would think of asking a pair of rosy cheeks for their owner's
pedigree?

MARSHAL. But consider, my dear count, a married man! And my reputation
at court!

PRESIDENT. Oh! that's quite another thing! I beg a thousand pardons,
marshal; I was not aware that a man of unblemished morals held a higher
place in your estimation than a man of power! Let us break up our
conference.

MARSHAL. Be not so hasty, count. I did not mean to say that.

PRESIDENT (coldly. ) No--no! You are perfectly right. I, too, am weary
of office. I shall throw up the game, tender my resignation to the duke,
and congratulate von Bock on his accession to the premiership. This
duchy is not all the world.

MARSHAL. And what am I to do? It is very fine for you to talk thus!
You are a man of learning! But I--mon Dieu! What shall I be if his
highness dismisses me?

PRESIDENT. A stale jest! --a thing out of fashion!

MARSHAL. I implore you, my dearest, my most valued friend. Abandon
those thoughts. I will consent to everything!

PRESIDENT. Will you lend your name to an assignation to which this
Louisa Miller shall invite you in writing?

MARSHAL. Well, in God's name let it be so!

PRESIDENT. And drop the letter where the major cannot fail to find it.

MARSHAL. For instance, on the parade, where I can let it fall as if
accidentally in drawing out my handkerchief.

PRESIDENT. And when the baron questions you will you assume the
character of a favored rival?

MARSHAL. Mort de ma vie! I'll teach him manners! I'll cure him of
interfering in my amours!

PRESIDENT. Good! Now you speak in the right key. The letter shall be
written immediately! Come in the evening to receive it, and we will talk
over the part you are to play.

MARSHAL. I will be with you the instant I have paid sixteen visits of
the very highest importance. Permit me, therefore, to take my leave
without delay. (Going. )

PRESIDENT (rings). I reckon upon your discretion, marshal.

MARSHAL (calls back). Ah, mon Dieu! you know me!

[Exit MARSHAL.



SCENE III.

The PRESIDENT and WORM.

WORM. The music-master and his wife have been arrested without the least
disturbance. Will your excellency read this letter?

PRESIDENT (having read it). Excellent! Excellent, my dear secretary!
poison like this would convert health itself into jaundiced leprosy. The
marshal, too, has taken the bait. Now then away with my proposals to the
father, and then lose no time--with the daughter.

[Exeunt on different sides.



SCENE IV. --Room in MILLER'S House.

LOUISA and FERDINAND.

LOUISA. Cease, I implore you! I expect no more days of happiness. All
my hopes are levelled with the dust.

FERDINAND. All mine are exalted to heaven! My father's passions are
roused! He will direct his whole artillery against us! He will force me
to become an unnatural son. I will not answer for my filial duty. Rage
and despair will wring from me the dark secret that my father is an
assassin! The son will deliver the parent into the hands of the
executioner. This is a moment of extreme danger, and extreme danger
alone could prompt my love to take so daring a leap! Hear me, Louisa! A
thought, vast and immeasurable as my love, has arisen in my soul--Thou,
Louisa, and I, and Love! Lies not a whole heaven within this circle? Or
dost thou feel that there is still something wanting?

LOUISA. Oh! cease! No more! I tremble to think what you would say.

FERDINAND.
If we have no longer a claim upon the world, why should we
seek its approbation? Why venture where nothing can be gained and all
may be lost? Will thine eyes sparkle less brightly reflected by the
Baltic waves than by the waters of the Rhine or the Elbe? Where Louise
loves me there is my native land! Thy footsteps will make the wild and
sandy desert far more attractive than the marble halls of my ancestors.
Shall we miss the pomp of cities? Be we where we may, Louisa, a sun will
rise and a sun will set--scenes before which the most glorious
achievements of art grow pale and dim! Though we serve God no more in
his consecrated churches, yet the night shall spread her solemn shadows
round us; the changing moon shall hear our confession, and a glorious
congregation of stars join in our prayers! Think you our talk of love
can ever be exhausted! Oh, no! One smile from Louisa were a theme for
centuries--the dream of life will be over ere I can exhaust the charms of
a single tear.

LOUISA. And hast thou no duty save that of love?

FERDINAND (embracing her). None so sacred as thy peace of mind!

LOUISA (very seriously). Cease, then, and leave me. I have a father who
possesses no treasure save one only daughter. To-morrow he will be sixty
years old--that he will fall a victim to the vengeance of the President
is most certain!

FERDINAND (interrupting her). He shall accompany us. Therefore no more
objections, my beloved. I will go and convert my valuables into gold,
and raise money on my father's credit! It is lawful to plunder a robber,
and are not his treasures the price for which he has sold his country?
This night, when the clock strikes one, a carriage will stop at your
door--throw yourself into it, and we fly!

LOUISA. Pursued by your father's curse! a curse, unthinking one, which
is never pronounced in vain even by murderers--which the avenging angel
hears when uttered by a malefactor in his last agony--which, like a fury,
will fearfully pursue the fugitives from shore to shore! No, my beloved!
If naught but a crime can preserve you to me, I still have courage to
resign you!

FERDINAND (mutters gloomily). Indeed!

LOUISA. Resign you? Oh! horrible beyond all measure is the thought.
Horrible enough to pierce the immortal spirit and pale the glowing cheeks
of joy! Ferdinand! To resign you! Yet how can one resign what one
never possessed? Your heart is the property of your station. My claim
was sacrilege, and, shuddering, I withdraw it!

FERDINAND (with convulsed features, and biting his underlip). You
withdraw it!

LOUISA. Nay! look upon me, dearest Ferdinand. Gnash not your teeth so
bitterly! Come, let my example rouse your slumbering courage. Let me be
the heroine of this moment. Let me restore to a father his lost son. I
will renounce a union which would sever the bonds by which society is
held together, and overthrow the landmarks of social order. I am the
criminal. My bosom has nourished proud and foolish wishes, and my
present misery is a just punishment. Oh! leave me then the sweet, the
consoling idea that mine is the sacrifice. Canst thou deny me this last
satisfaction? (FERDINAND, stupefied with agitation and anger, seizes a
violin and strikes a few notes upon it; and then tears away the strings,
dashes the instrument upon the ground, and, stamping it to pieces, bursts
into a loud laugh. ) Walter! God in Heaven! What mean you? Be not thus
unmanned! This hour requires fortitude; it is the hour of separation!
You have a heart, dear Walter; I know that heart--warm as life is your
love--boundless and immeasurable--bestow it on one more noble, more
worthy--she need not envy the most fortunate of her sex! (Striving to
repress her tears. ) You shall see me no more! Leave the vain
disappointed girl to bewail her sorrow in sad and lonely seclusion; where
her tears will flow unheeded. Dead and gone are all my hopes of
happiness in this world; yet still shall I inhale ever and anon the
perfumes of the faded wreath! (Giving him her trembling hand, while her
face is turned away. ) Baron Walter, farewell!

FERDINAND (recovering from the stupor in which he was plunged). Louisa,
I fly! Do you indeed refuse to follow me?

LOUISA (who has retreated to the further end of the apartment, conceals
her countenance with her hands). My duty bids me stay, and suffer.

FERDINAND. Serpent! thou liest--some other motive chains thee here!

LOUISA (in a tone of the most heartfelt sorrow). Encourage that belief.
Haply it may make our parting more supportable.

FERDINAND. What? Oppose freezing duty to fiery love! And dost thou
think to cheat me with that delusion? Some rival detains thee here, and
woe be to thee and him should my suspicions be confirmed!

[Exit.



SCENE V.

LOUISA (she remains for some time motionless in the seat upon which she
has thrown herself. At length she rises, comes forward, and looks
timidly around). Where can my parents be? My father promised to return
in a few minutes; yet full five dreadful hours have passed since his
departure. Should any accident----good Heavens! What is come over me?
Why does my heart palpitate so violently? (Here WORM enters, and remains
standing unobserved in the background. ) It can be nothing real. 'Tis
but the terrible delusion of my over-heated blood. When once the soul is
wrapped in terror the eye behold spectres in every shadow.



SCENE VI.

LOUISA and WORM.

WORM (approaches her). Good evening, miss.

LOUISA. Heavens! who speaks! (Perceives him, and starts back in
terror. ) Ha! Dreadful! dreadful! I fear some dire misfortune is even
now realizing the forebodings of my soul! (To WORM, with a look of
disdain. ) Do you seek the president? he is no longer here.

WORM. 'Tis you I seek, miss!

LOUISA. I wonder, then, that you did not direct your steps towards the
market-place.

WORM. What should I do there?

LOUISA. Release your betrothed from the pillory.

WORM. Louisa, you cherish some false suspicion----

LOUISA (sharply interrupting him). What is your business with me?

WORM. I come with a message from your father.

LOUISA (agitated). From my father? Oh! Where is my father?

WORM. Where he would fain not be!

LOUISA. Quick, quick, for God's sake! Oh! my foreboding heart! Where
is my father!

WORM. In prison, if you needs must know!

LOUISA (with a look towards heaven). This, too! This, too! In prison,
said you? And why in prison?

WORM. It is the duke's order.

LOUISA. The duke's?

WORM. Who thinking his own dignity offended by the insults offered to
the person of his representative----

LOUISA. How? How? Oh ye Almighty Powers!

WORM. ----Has resolved to inflict the most exemplary punishment.

LOUISA. This was still wanting! This! Yes, in truth. I now feel that
my heart does love another besides Ferdinand! That could not be allowed
to escape! The prince's dignity offended? Heavenly Providence! Save,
oh! save my sinking faith! (After a moment's pause, she turns to WORM. )
And Ferdinand?

WORM. Must choose between Lady Milford's hand and his father's curse and
disinheritance.

LOUISA. Terrible choice! --and yet--yet is he the happier of the two. He
has no father to lose--and yet to have none is misery enough! My father
imprisoned for treason--my Ferdinand compelled to choose between Lady
Milford's hand or a parent's curse and disinheritance! Truly admirable!
for even villany so perfect is perfection! Perfection? No! something is
still wanting to complete that. Where is my mother?

WORM. In the house of correction.

LOUISA (with a smile of despair). Now the measure is full! It is full,
and I am free--released from all duties--all sorrows--all joys! Released
even from Providence! I have nothing more to do with it! (A dreadful
pause. ) Have you aught else to communicate? Speak freely--now I can
hear anything with indifference.

WORM. All that has happened you already know.

LOUISA. But not that which is yet to happen! (Another pause, during
which she surveys WORM from head to foot. ) Unfortunate man! you
have entered on a melancholy employment, which can never lead you to
happiness. To cause misery to others is sad enough--but to be the
messenger of evil is horrible indeed--to be the first to shriek the
screech-owl's song, to stand by when the bleeding heart trembles upon
the iron shaft of necessity, and the Christian doubts the existence of a
God--Heaven protect me! Wert thou paid a ton of gold for every tear of
anguish which thou must witness, I would not be a wretch like thee! What
is there yet to happen?