No More Learning

_Sieg. _ (_starts_). Ah! --
Where? on _what_ frontier?

_Rod. _ The Silesian, on
My way--(_Aside to_ ULRIC. )--_Where_ shall I say?

_Ulr. _ (_aside to_ RODOLPH). To Hamburgh.
(_Aside to himself_). That
Word will, I think, put a firm padlock on
His further inquisition.

_Rod. _ Count, to Hamburgh.

_Sieg. _ (_agitated_). Hamburgh! No, I have nought to do there, nor
Am aught connected with that city. Then
God speed you!

_Rod. _ Fare ye well, Count Siegendorf!
[_Exit_ RODOLPH.

_Sieg. _ Ulric, this man, who has just departed, is 290
One of those strange companions whom I fain
Would reason with you on.

_Ulr. _ My Lord, he is
Noble by birth, of one of the first houses
In Saxony.

_Sieg. _ I talk not of his birth,
But of his bearing. Men speak lightly of him.

_Ulr. _ So they will do of most men. Even the monarch
Is not fenced from his chamberlain's slander, or
The sneer of the last courtier whom he has made
Great and ungrateful.

_Sieg. _ If I must be plain,
The world speaks more than lightly of this Rodolph: 300
They say he is leagued with the "black bands" who still
Ravage the frontier.

_Ulr. _ And will you believe
The world?

_Sieg. _ In this case--yes.

_Ulr. _ In _any_ case,
I thought you knew it better than to take
An accusation for a sentence.

_Sieg. _ Son!
I understand you: you refer to----but
My destiny has so involved about me
Her spider web, that I can only flutter
Like the poor fly, but break it not. Take heed,
Ulric; you have seen to what the passions led me: 310
Twenty long years of misery and famine
Quenched them not--twenty thousand more, perchance,
Hereafter (or even here in _moments_ which
Might date for years, did Anguish make the dial),
May not obliterate or expiate
The madness and dishonour of an instant.
Ulric, be warned by a father! --I was not
By mine, and you behold me!

_Ulr. _ I behold
The prosperous and beloved Siegendorf,
Lord of a Prince's appanage, and honoured 320
By those he rules and those he ranks with.

_Sieg. _ Ah!
Why wilt thou call me prosperous, while I fear
For thee? Beloved, when thou lovest me not!
All hearts but one may beat in kindness for me--
But if my son's is cold! ----

_Ulr. _ Who _dare_ say that?

_Sieg. _ None else but I, who see it--_feel_ it--keener
Than would your adversary, who dared say so,
Your sabre in his heart! But mine survives
The wound.

_Ulr. _ You err. My nature is not given
To outward fondling: how should it be so, 330
After twelve years' divorcement from my parents?

_Sieg. _ And did not _I_ too pass those twelve torn years
In a like absence? But 'tis vain to urge you--
Nature was never called back by remonstrance.
Let's change the theme. I wish you to consider
That these young violent nobles of high name,
But dark deeds (aye, the darkest, if all Rumour
Reports be true), with whom thou consortest,
Will lead thee----

_Ulr. _ (_impatiently_). I'll be _led_ by no man.

_Sieg. _ Nor
Be leader of such, I would hope: at once 340
To wean thee from the perils of thy youth
And haughty spirit, I have thought it well
That thou shouldst wed the lady Ida--more
As thou appear'st to love her.

_Ulr. _ I have said
I will obey your orders, were they to
Unite with Hecate--can a son say more?

_Sieg. _ He says too much in saying this. It is not
The nature of thine age, nor of thy blood,
Nor of thy temperament, to talk so coolly,
Or act so carelessly, in that which is 350
The bloom or blight of all men's happiness,
(For Glory's pillow is but restless, if
Love lay not down his cheek there): some strong bias,
Some master fiend is in thy service, to
Misrule the mortal who believes him slave,
And makes his every thought subservient; else
Thou'dst say at once--"I love young Ida, and
Will wed her;" or, "I love her not, and all
The powers on earth shall never make me. "--So
Would _I_ have answered.

_Ulr. _ Sir, _you_ wed for love. 360

_Sieg. _ I did, and it has been my only refuge
In many miseries.

_Ulr. _ Which miseries
Had never been but for this love-match.

_Sieg. _ Still
Against your age and nature! Who at twenty
E'er answered thus till now?

_Ulr. _ Did you not warn me
Against your own example?

_Sieg. _ Boyish sophist!
In a word, do you love, or love not, Ida?

_Ulr. _ What matters it, if I am ready to
Obey you in espousing her?

_Sieg. _ As far
As you feel, nothing--but all life for her. 370
She's young--all-beautiful--adores you--is
Endowed with qualities to give happiness,
Such as rounds common life into a dream
Of something which your poets cannot paint,
And (if it were not wisdom to love virtue),
For which Philosophy might barter Wisdom;
And giving so much happiness, deserves
A little in return. I would not have her
Break her heart with a man who has none to break!
Or wither on her stalk like some pale rose 380
Deserted by the bird she thought a nightingale,
According to the Orient tale. [199] She is----

_Ulr. _ The daughter of dead Stralenheim, your foe:
I'll wed her, ne'ertheless; though, to say truth,
Just now I am not violently transported
In favour of such unions.

_Sieg. _ But she loves you.

_Ulr. _ And I love her, and therefore would think _twice_.

_Sieg. _ Alas! Love never did so.

_Ulr. _ Then 'tis time
He should begin, and take the bandage from
His eyes, and look before he leaps; till now 390
He hath ta'en a jump i' the dark.

_Sieg. _ But you consent?

_Ulr. _ I did, and do.

_Sieg. _ Then fix the day.

_Ulr. _ Tis usual,
And, certes, courteous, to leave that to the lady.

_Sieg. _ _I_ will engage for _her_.

_Ulr. _ So will not _I_
For any woman: and as what I fix,
I fain would see unshaken, when she gives
Her answer, I'll give mine.

_Sieg. _ But 'tis your office
To woo.

_Ulr. _ Count, 'tis a marriage of your making,
So be it of your wooing; but to please you,
I will now pay my duty to my mother, 400
With whom, you know, the lady Ida is. --
What would you have? You have forbid my stirring
For manly sports beyond the castle walls,
And I obey; you bid me turn a chamberer,
To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting-needles,
And list to songs and tunes, and watch for smiles,
And smile at pretty prattle, and look into
The eyes of feminine, as though they were
The stars receding early to our wish
Upon the dawn of a world-winning battle-- 410
What can a son or man do more? [_Exit_ ULRIC.

_Sieg. _ (_solus_). Too much! --
Too much of duty, and too little love!
He pays me in the coin he owes me not:
For such hath been my wayward fate, I could not
Fulfil a parent's duties by his side
Till now; but love he owes me, for my thoughts
Ne'er left him, nor my eyes longed without tears
To see my child again,--and now I have found him!
But how! obedient, but with coldness; duteous
In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious-- 420
Abstracted--distant--much given to long absence,
And where--none know--in league with the most riotous
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice,
He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures;
Yet there's some tie between them which I can not
Unravel. They look up to him--consult him--
Throng round him as a leader: but with me
He hath no confidence! Ah! can I hope it
After--what! doth my father's curse descend
Even to my child? Or is the Hungarian near 430
To shed more blood? or--Oh! if it should be!
Spirit of Stralenheim, dost thou walk these walls
To wither him and his--who, though they slew not,
Unlatched the door of Death for thee? 'Twas not
Our fault, nor is our sin: thou wert our foe,
And yet I spared thee when my own destruction
Slept with thee, to awake with thine awakening!
And only took--Accursed gold! thou liest
Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee,
Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, 440
Methinks thou wouldst contaminate all hands
Like mine. Yet I have done, to atone for thee,
Thou villanous gold! and thy dead master's doom,
Though he died not by me or mine, as much
As if he were my brother! I have ta'en
His orphan Ida--cherished her as one
Who will be mine.

_Enter an_ ATTENDANT.

_Atten. _ The abbot, if it please
Your Excellency, whom you sent for, waits
Upon you. [_Exit_ ATTENDANT.

_Enter the_ PRIOR ALBERT.

_Prior_. Peace be with these walls, and all
Within them!

_Sieg. _ Welcome, welcome, holy father! 450
And may thy prayer be heard! --all men have need
Of such, and I----

_Prior_. Have the first claim to all
The prayers of our community. Our convent,
Erected by your ancestors, is still
Protected by their children.

_Sieg. _ Yes, good father;
Continue daily orisons for us
In these dim days of heresies and blood,
Though the schismatic Swede, Gustavus, is
Gone home.

_Prior_. To the endless home of unbelievers,
Where there is everlasting wail and woe, 460
Gnashing of teeth, and tears of blood, and fire
Eternal and the worm which dieth not!

_Sieg. _ True, father: and to avert those pangs from one,
Who, though of our most faultless holy Church,
Yet died without its last and dearest offices,
Which smooth the soul through purgatorial pains,
I have to offer humbly this donation
In masses for his spirit.
[SIEGENDORF _offers the gold which he had taken from_ STRALENHEIM.

_Prior_. Count, if I
Receive it, 'tis because I know too well
Refusal would offend you. Be assured 470
The largess shall be only dealt in alms,
And every mass no less sung for the dead.
Our House needs no donations, thanks to yours,
Which has of old endowed it; but from you
And yours in all meet things 'tis fit we obey.
For whom shall mass be said?

_Sieg. _ (_faltering_). For--for--the dead.

_Prior_. His name?

_Sieg. _ 'Tis from a soul, and not a name,
I would avert perdition.

_Prior_. I meant not
To pry into your secret. We will pray
For one unknown, the same as for the proudest. 480

_Sieg. _ Secret! I have none: but, father, he who's gone
Might _have_ one; or, in short, he did bequeath--
No, not bequeath--but I bestow this sum
For pious purposes.

_Prior_. A proper deed
In the behalf of our departed friends.

_Sieg. _ But he who's gone was not my friend, but foe,
The deadliest and the stanchest.

_Prior_. Better still!
To employ our means to obtain Heaven for the souls
Of our dead enemies is worthy those
Who can forgive them living.

_Sieg. _ But I did not 490
Forgive this man. I loathed him to the last,
As he did me. I do not love him now,
But----

_Prior_. Best of all! for this is pure religion!
You fain would rescue him you hate from hell--
An evangelical compassion--with
Your own gold too!

_Sieg. _ Father, 'tis not my gold.

_Prior_. Whose, then? You said it was no legacy.

_Sieg. _ No matter whose--of this be sure, that he
Who owned it never more will need it, save
In that which it may purchase from your altars: 500
'Tis yours, or theirs.

_Prior_. Is there no blood upon it?

_Sieg. _ No; but there's worse than blood--eternal shame!

_Prior_. Did he who owned it die in his _bed? _

_Sieg. _ Alas!
He did.

_Prior_. Son! you relapse into revenge,
If you regret your enemy's bloodless death.

_Sieg. _ His death was fathomlessly deep in blood.

_Prior_. You said he died in his bed, not battle.

_Sieg. _ He
Died, I scarce know--but--he was stabbed i' the dark,
And now you have it--perished on his pillow
By a cut-throat! --Aye! --you may look upon me! 510
_I_ am _not_ the man. I'll meet your eye on that point,
As I can one day God's.

_Prior_. Nor did he die
By means, or men, or instrument of yours?

_Sieg. _ No! by the God who sees and strikes!

_Prior_. Nor know you
Who slew him?

_Sieg. _ I could only guess at _one_,
And he to me a stranger, unconnected,
As unemployed. Except by one day's knowledge,
I never saw the man who was suspected.

_Prior_. Then you are free from guilt.

_Sieg. _ (_eagerly_). Oh! _am_ I? --say!

_Prior_. You have said so, and know best.

_Sieg. _ Father! I have spoken 520
The truth, and nought but truth, if _not_ the _whole_;
Yet say I am _not_ guilty! for the blood
Of this man weighs on me, as if I shed it,
Though, by the Power who abhorreth human blood,
I did not! --nay, once spared it, when I might
And _could_--aye, perhaps, _should_ (if our self-safety
Be e'er excusable in such defences
Against the attacks of over-potent foes):
But pray for him, for me, and all my house;
For, as I said, though I be innocent,
I know not why, a like remorse is on me,
As if he had fallen by me or mine. Pray for me,
Father! I have prayed myself in vain.

_Prior_. I will.
Be comforted! You are innocent, and should
Be calm as innocence.

_Sieg. _ But calmness is not
Always the attribute of innocence.
I feel it is not.

_Prior_. But it will be so,
When the mind gathers up its truth within it.
Remember the great festival to-morrow,
In which you rank amidst our chiefest nobles,
As well as your brave son; and smooth your aspect,
Nor in the general orison of thanks
For bloodshed stopt, let blood you shed not rise,
A cloud, upon your thoughts. This were to be
Too sensitive. Take comfort, and forget
Such things, and leave remorse unto the guilty. [_Exeunt_.




ACT V.


SCENE I. --_A large and magnificent Gothic Hall in the
Castle of Siegendorf, decorated with Trophies, Banners,
and Arms of that Family_.

_Enter_ ARNHEIM _and_ MEISTER, _attendants of_ COUNT SIEGENDORF.

_Arn. _ Be quick! the Count will soon return: the ladies
Already are at the portal. Have you sent
The messengers in search of him he seeks for?

_Meis. _ I have, in all directions, over Prague,
As far as the man's dress and figure could
By your description track him. The devil take
These revels and processions! All the pleasure
(If such there be) must fall to the spectators,--
I'm sure none doth to us who make the show.

_Arn. _ Go to! my Lady Countess comes.

_Meis. _ I'd rather 10
Ride a day's hunting on an outworn jade,
Than follow in the train of a great man,
In these dull pageantries.

_Arn. _ Begone! and rail
Within. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter the_ COUNTESS JOSEPHINE SIEGENDORF _and_ IDA STRALENHEIM.

_Jos. _ Well, Heaven be praised! the show is over.

_Ida. _ How can you say so? Never have I dreamt
Of aught so beautiful. The flowers, the boughs,
The banners, and the nobles, and the knights,
The gems, the robes, the plumes, the happy faces,
The coursers, and the incense, and the sun
Streaming through the stained windows, even the _tombs_, 20
Which looked so calm, and the celestial hymns,
Which seemed as if they rather came from Heaven
Than mounted there--the bursting organ's peal
Rolling on high like an harmonious thunder;
The white robes and the lifted eyes; the world
At peace! and all at peace with one another!
Oh, my sweet mother! [_Embracing_ JOSEPHINE.

_Jos. _ My beloved child!
For such, I trust, thou shalt be shortly.

_Ida. _ Oh!
I am so already. Feel how my heart beats!

_Jos. _ It does, my love; and never may it throb 30
With aught more bitter.

_Ida. _ Never shall it do so!
How should it? What should make us grieve? I hate
To hear of sorrow: how can we be sad,
Who love each other so entirely? You,
The Count, and Ulric, and your daughter Ida.

_Jos. _ Poor child!

_Ida. _ Do you pity me?

_Jos. _ No: I but envy,
And that in sorrow, not in the world's sense
Of the universal vice, if one vice be
More general than another.

_Ida. _ I'll not hear
A word against a world which still contains 40
You and my Ulric. Did you ever see
Aught like him? How he towered amongst them all!
How all eyes followed him! The flowers fell faster--
Rained from each lattice at his feet, methought,
Than before all the rest; and where he trod
I dare be sworn that they grow still, nor e'er
Will wither.

_Jos. _ You will spoil him, little flatterer,
If he should hear you.

_Ida. _ But he never will.
I dare not say so much to him--I fear him.

_Jos. _ Why so? he loves you well.

_Ida. _ But I can never 50
Shape my thoughts _of_ him into words _to_ him:
Besides, he sometimes frightens me.

_Jos. _ How so?
_Ida. _ A cloud comes o'er his blue eyes suddenly,
Yet he says nothing.

_Jos. _ It is nothing: all men,
Especially in these dark troublous times,
Have much to think of.

_Ida. _ But I cannot think
Of aught save him.

_Jos. _ Yet there are other men,
In the world's eye, as goodly. There's, for instance,
The young Count Waldorf, who scarce once withdrew
His eyes from yours to-day.

_Ida. _ I did not see him, 60
But Ulric. Did you not see at the moment
When all knelt, and I wept? and yet, methought,
Through my fast tears, though they were thick and warm,
I saw him smiling on me.

_Jos. _ I could not
See aught save Heaven, to which my eyes were raised,
Together with the people's.

_Ida. _ I thought too
Of Heaven, although I looked on Ulric.

_Jos. _ Come,
Let us retire! they will be here anon,
Expectant of the banquet. We will lay
Aside these nodding plumes and dragging trains. 70

_Ida. _ And, above all, these stiff and heavy jewels,
Which make my head and heart ache, as both throb
Beneath their glitter o'er my brow and zone.
Dear mother, I am with you.

_Enter_ COUNT SIEGENDORF, _in full dress, from the
solemnity_, and LUDWIG.

_Sieg. _ Is he not found?

_Lud. _ Strict search is making every where; and if
The man be in Prague, be sure he will be found.

_Sieg. _ Where's Ulric?

_Lud. _ He rode round the other way
With some young nobles; but he left them soon;
And, if I err not, not a minute since
I heard his Excellency, with his train, 80
Gallop o'er the west drawbridge.

_Enter ULRIC, splendidly dressed_.

_Sieg. _ (_to_ LUDWIG). See they cease not
Their quest of him I have described. [_Exit_ LUDWIG.
Oh, Ulric!
How have I longed for thee!

_Ulr. _ Your wish is granted--
Behold me!

_Sieg. _ I have seen the murderer.

_Ulr. _ Whom? Where?

_Sieg. _ The Hungarian, who slew Stralenheim.

_Ulr. _ You dream.

_Sieg. _ I live! and as I live, I saw him--
Heard him! he dared to utter even my name.

_Ulr. _ What name?

_Sieg. _ Werner! _'twas_ mine.

_Ulr.