No More Learning

(Again
aside. ) Eyes well practised in weeping. Oh! How I love those eyes!
(Aloud. ) Nearer--come nearer! Quite close! I really think, my good
child, that you are afraid of me!

LOUISA (with firmness and dignity). No, my lady--I despise the opinion
of the multitude!

LADY MILFORD (aside). Well, to be sure! She has learnt this boldness
from him. (To LOUISA. ) You have been recommended to me, miss! I am
told that you have been decently educated, and are well disposed. I can
readily believe it; besides, I would not, for the world, doubt the word
of so warm an advocate.

LOUISA. And yet I remember no one, my lady, who would be at the trouble
to seek your ladyship's patronage for me!

LADY MILFORD (significantly). Does that imply my unworthiness, or your
humility?

LOUISA. Your words are beyond my comprehension, lady.

LADY MILFORD. More cunning than I should have expected from that open
countenance. (To LOUISA. ) Your name is Louisa, I believe? May I
inquire your age?

LOUISA. Sixteen, just turned.

LADY MILFORD (starting up). Ha! There it is! Sixteen! The first
pulsation of love! The first sweet vibration upon the yet unsounded
harp! Nothing is more fascinating. (To LOUISA. ) Be seated, lovely
girl--I am anxious about you. (To herself. ) And he, too, loves for the
first time! What wonder, if the ruddy morning beams should meet and
blend? (To LOUISA, taking her hand affectionately. ) 'Tis settled: I
will make your fortune. (To herself. ) Oh! there is nothing in it:
nothing, but the sweet transient vision of youth! (To LOUISA, patting
her on the cheek. ) My Sophy is on the point of leaving me to be married:
you shall have her place. But just sixteen? Oh! it can never last.

LOUISA (kissing her hand respectfully). Receive my thanks, lady, for
your intended favors, and believe me not the less grateful though I may
decline to accept them.

LADY MILFORD (relapsing into disdain and anger). Only hear the great
lady! Girls of your station generally think themselves fortunate to
obtain such promotion. What is your dependence, my dainty one? Are
these fingers too delicate for work? --or is it your pretty baby-face that
makes you give yourself these airs?

LOUISA. My face, lady, is as little of my own choice as my station!

LADY MILFORD. Perhaps you believe that your beauty will last forever?
Poor creature! Whoever put that into your head--be he who he may--has
deceived both you and himself! The colors of those cheeks are not burnt
in with fire: what your mirror passes off upon you as solid and enduring
is but a slight tinselling, which, sooner or later, will rub off in the
hands of the purchaser. What then, will you do?

LOUISA. Pity the purchaser, lady, who bought a diamond because it
appeared to be set in gold.

LADY MILFORD (affecting not to hear her). A damsel of your age has ever
two mirrors, the real one, and her admirer. The flattering complaisance
of the latter counterbalances the rough honesty of the former. What the
one proclaims frightful pock-marks, the other declares to be dimples that
would adorn the Graces. The credulous maid believes only so much of the
former as is confirmed by the latter, and hies from one to the other till
she confounds their testimonies, and concludes by fancying them to be
both of one opinion. Why do you stare at me so?

LOUISA. Pardon me, lady! I was just then pitying those gorgeous
sparkling brilliants, which are unconscious that their possessor is so
strenuous a foe to vanity.

LADY MILFORD (reddening). No evasion, miss. Were it not that you depend
upon personal attractions, what in the world could induce you to reject a
situation, the only one where you can acquire polish of manners and
divest yourself of your plebeian prejudices?

LOUISA. And with them, I presume, my plebeian innocence!

LADY MILFORD. Preposterous objection! The most dissolute libertine
dares not to disrespect our sex, unless we ourselves encourage him by
advances. Prove what you are; make manifest your virtue and honor, and I
will guarantee your innocence from danger.

LOUISA. Of that, lady, permit me to entertain a doubt! The palaces of
certain ladies are but too often made a theatre for the most unbridled
licentiousness. Who will believe that a poor musician's daughter could
have the heroism to plunge into the midst of contagion and yet preserve
herself untainted? Who will believe that Lady Milford would perpetually
hold a scorpion to her breast, and lavish her wealth to purchase the
advantage of every moment feeling her cheeks dyed with the crimson blush
of shame? I will be frank, lady! --while I adorned you for some
assignation, could you meet my eye unabashed? Could you endure my glance
when you returned? Oh! better, far better, would it be that oceans
should roll between us--that we should inhabit different climes! Beware,
my lady! --hours of temperance, moments of satiety might intrude; the
gnawing worm of remorse might plant its sting in your bosom, and then
what a torment would it be for you to read in the countenance of your
handmaid that calm serenity with which virtue ever rewards an uncorrupted
heart! (Retiring a few steps. ) Once more, gracious lady, I entreat your
pardon!

LADY MILFORD (extremely agitated). Insupportable, that she should tell
me this! Still more insupportable, that what she tells is true!
(Turning to LOUISA, and looking at her steadfastly. ) Girl! girl! this
artifice does not blind me. Mere opinions do not speak out so warmly.
Beneath the cloak of these sentiments lurks some far dearer interest.
'Tis that which makes my service particularly distasteful--which gives
such energy to your language. (In a threatening voice. ) What it is I am
determined to discover.

LOUISA (with calm dignity). And what if you do discover it? Suppose the
contemptuous trampling of your foot should rouse the injured worm, which
its Creator has furnished with a sting to protect it against misusage. I
fear not your vengeance, lady! The poor criminal extended on the rack
can look unappalled even on the dissolution of the world. My misery is
so exquisite that even sincerity cannot draw down upon me any further
infliction! (After a pause. ) You say that you would raise me from the
obscurity of my station. I will not examine the motives of this
suspicious favor. I will only ask, what could induce you to think me so
foolish as to blush at my station? What could induce you to become the
architect of my happiness, before you knew whether I was willing to
receive that happiness at your hands? I had forever renounced all claims
upon the pleasures of the world. I had forgiven fortune that she had
dealt with me so niggardly. Ah! why do you remind me of all this. If
the Almighty himself hides his glory from the eyes of his creatures, lest
the highest seraph should be overwhelmed by a sense of his own
insignificance, why should mortals be so cruelly compassionate? Lady,
lady! why is your vaunted happiness so anxious to excite the envy and
wonder of the wretched? Does your bliss stand in need of the exhibition
of despair for entertainment? Oh! rather grant me that blindness which
alone can reconcile me to my barbarous lot! The insect feels itself as
happy in a drop of water as though that drop was a paradise: so happy,
and so contented! till some one tells it of a world of water, where
navies ride and whales disport themselves! But you wish to make me
happy, say you? (After a pause, she advances towards LADY MILFORD, and
asks her suddenly. ) Are you happy, lady? (LADY MILFORD turns from her
hastily, and overpowered. LOUISA follows her, and lays her hand upon her
bosom. ) Does this heart wear the smile of its station? Could we now
exchange breast for breast, and fate for fate--were I, in childlike
innocence, to ask you on your conscience--were I to ask you as a mother--
would you really counsel me to make the exchange?

LADY MILFORD (greatly excited, throwing herself on the sofa).
Intolerable! Incomprehensible! No, Louisa, no! This greatness of
thought is not your own, and your conceptions are too fiery, too full of
youth, to be inspired by your father. Deceive me not! I detect another
teacher----

LOUISA (looking piercingly at her). I cannot but wonder, my lady, that
you should have only just discovered that other teacher, and yet have
previously shown so much anxiety to patronize me!

LADY MILFORD (starting up). 'Tis not to be borne! Well, then, since I
cannot escape you, I know him--know everything--know more than I wish to
know! (Suddenly restraining herself, then continuing with a violence
which by degrees increases to frenzy. ) But dare, unhappy one! --dare but
still to love, or be beloved by him! What did I say? Dare but to think
of him, or to be one of his thoughts! I am powerful, unhappy one! --
dreadful in my vengeance! As sure as there is a God in heaven thou art
lost forever!

LOUISA (undaunted). Past all redemption, my lady, the moment you succeed
in compelling him to love you!

LADY MILFORD. I understand you--but I care not for his love! I will
conquer this disgraceful passion. I will torture my own heart; but thine
will I crush to atoms! Rocks and chasms will I hurl between you. I will
rush, like a fury, into the heaven of your joys. My name shall affright
your loves as a spectre scares an assassin. That young and blooming form
in his embrace shall wither to a skeleton. I cannot be blest with him--
neither shalt thou. Know, wretched girl; that to blast the happiness of
others is in itself a happiness!

LOUISA. A happiness, my lady, which is already beyond your reach! Seek
not to deceive your own heart! You are incapable of executing what you
threaten! You are incapable of torturing a being who has done you no
wrong--but whose misfortune it is that her feelings have been sensible to
impressions like your own. But I love you for these transports, my lady!

LADY MILFORD (recovering herself). Where am I? What have I done? What
sentiments have I betrayed? To whom have I betrayed them? Oh, Louisa,
noble, great, divine soul, forgive the ravings of a maniac! Fear not, my
child! I will not injure a hair of thy head! Name thy wishes! Ask what
thou wilt! I will serve thee with all my power; I will be thy friend--
thy sister! Thou art poor; look (taking off her brilliants), I will sell
these jewels--sell my wardrobe--my carriages and horses--all shall be
thine--grant me but Ferdinand!

LOUISA (draws back indignantly). Does she mock my despair? --or is she
really innocent of participation in that cruel deed? Ha! then I may yet
assume the heroine, and make my surrender of him pass for a sacrifice!
(Remains for a while absorbed in thought, then approaches LADY MILFORD,
seizes her hand, and gazes on her with a fixed and significant look. )
Take him, lady!
I here voluntarily resign the man whom hellish arts have
torn from my bleeding bosom! Perchance you know it not, my lady! but you
have destroyed the paradise of two lovers; you have torn asunder two
hearts which God had linked together; you have crushed a creature not
less dear to him than yourself, and no less created for happiness; one by
whom he was worshipped as sincerely as by you; but who, henceforth, will
worship him no more. But the Almighty is ever open to receive the last
groan of the trampled worm. He will not look on with indifference when
creatures in his keeping are murdered. Now Ferdinand is yours. Take
him, lady, take him! Rush into his arms! Drag him with you to the
altar! But forget not that the spectre of a suicide will rush between
you and the bridal kiss. God be merciful! No choice is left me!
(Rushes out of the chamber. )



SCENE VIII.

LADY MILFORD alone, in extreme agitation, gazing on the door by
which LOUISA left. At length she recovers from her stupor.

LADY MILFORD. What was that? What preys so on my heart? What said the
unhappy one? Still, O heaven, the dreadful, damning words ring in my
ears! "Take him! Take him! " What should I take, unfortunate? the
bequest of your dying groan--the fearful legacy of your despair?
Gracious heaven! am I then fallen so low? Am I so suddenly hurled from
the towering throne of my pride that I greedily await what a beggar's
generosity may throw me in the last struggle of death? "Take him! Take
him! " And with what a tone was it uttered! --with what a look! What!
Amelia! is it for this thou hast overleaped the bounds of thy sex? For
this didst thou vaunt the glorious title of a free-born Briton, that thy
boasted edifice of honor might sink before the nobler soul of a despised
and lowly maiden? No, proud unfortunate! No! Amelia Milford may blush
for shame,--but shall never be despised. I, too, have courage to resign.
(She walks a few paces with a majestic gait. ) Hide thyself, weak,
suffering woman! Hence, ye sweet and golden dreams of love! Magnanimity
alone be now my guide. These lovers are lost, or Amelia must withdraw
her claim, and renounce the prince's heart. (After a pause, with
animation. ) It is determined! The dreadful obstacle is removed--broken
are the bonds which bound me to the duke--torn from my bosom this raging
passion. Virtue, into thy arms I throw myself. Receive thy repentant
daughter. Ha! how happy do I feel! How suddenly relieved my heart, and
how exalted! Glorious as the setting sun, will I this day descend from
the pinnacle of my greatness; my grandeur shall expire with my love, and
my own heart be the only sharer of my proud exile! (Going to her
writing-table with a determined air. ) It must be done at once--now, on
the spot--before the recollection of Ferdinand renews the cruel conflict
in my bosom! (She seats herself, and begins to write).



SCENE IX.

LADY MILFORD, an ATTENDANT, SOPHIA, afterwards the MARSHAL,
and then SERVANTS.

SERVANT. Marshal von Kalb is in the ante-chamber, and brings a message
from his highness.

LADY MILFORD (not hearing him in the eagerness of writing). How the
illustrious puppet will stare! The idea is singular enough, I own, the
presuming to astonish his serene numskull. In what confusion will his
court be thrown! The whole country will be in a ferment.

SERVANT and SOPHIA. Marshal von Kalb, my lady!

LADY MILFORD (turning round). Who? the marshal? So much the better!
Such creatures were designed by nature to carry the ass' panniers.

[Exit SERVANT.

SOPHIA (approaching anxiously). If I were not fearful, my lady, that you
would think it presumption. (LADY MILFORD continuing to write eagerly. )
Louisa Miller rushed madly to the hall--you are agitated--you speak to
yourself. (LADY MILFORD continues writing. ) I am quite alarmed. What
can have happened? (The MARSHAL enters, making repeated bows at LADY
MILFORD'S back; as she takes no notice of him, he comes nearer, stands
behind her chair, touches the hem of her dress, and imprints a kiss on
it, saying in a tremulous voice. ) His serene highness----

LADY MILFORD (while she peruses hastily what she has written). He will
tax me with black ingratitude! "I was poor and forsaken! He raised me
from misery! From misery. " Detestable exchange! Annul my bond,
seducer! The blush of my eternal shame repays my debt with interest.

MARSHAL (after endeavoring in vain to catch her eye). Your ladyship
seems somewhat absent. I take the liberty of permitting myself the
boldness (very loud)--his serene highness, my lady, has sent me to
inquire whether you mean to honor this evening's gala with your presence,
or the theatre?

LADY MILFORD (rising, with a laugh). One or the other, sweet sir. In
the meantime take this paper to your duke for his dessert. (To SOPHIA. )
Do you, Sophia, give directions to have my carriage brought to the door
without delay, and call my whole household together in this saloon.

SOPHIA (goes out in great astonishment). Heavens! What do I forebode?
What will this end in?

MARSHAL. You seem excited, my lady!

LADY MILFORD. The greater the chance of my letting you into a little
truth. Rejoice, my Lord Marshal! There is a place vacant at court. A
fine time for panders. (As the MARSHAL throws a look of suspicion upon
the paper. ) Read it, read it! 'Tis my desire that the contents should
be made public. (While he reads it, the domestics enter, and range
themselves in the background. )

MARSHAL (reading). "Your highness--an engagement, broken by you so
lightly, can no longer be binding on me. The happiness of your subjects
was the condition of my love. For three years the deception has lasted.
The veil at length falls from my eyes! I look with disgust on favors
which are stained with the tears of your subjects. Bestow the love which
I can no longer accept upon your weeping country, and learn from a
British princess compassion to your German people. Within an hour I
shall have quitted your dominions. JOANNA NORFOLK"

SERVANTS (exclaiming to each other in astonishment). Quitted the
dominions!

MARSHAL (replaces the letter upon the table in terror). God forbid, my
dear and most excellent lady! The bearer of such a letter would be as
mad as the writer!

LADY MILFORD. That is your concern, you pink of a courtier! Alas! I am
sorry to know that you, and such as you, would choke even in the
utterance of what others dare to do. My advice is that you bake the
letter in a venison pasty, so that his most serene highness may find it
on his plate!

MARSHAL. God preserve me! What presumption! Ponder well, I entreat
you. Reflect on the disgrace which you will bring down upon yourself, my
lady!

LADY MILFORD (turning to the assembled domestics, and addressing them in
the deepest emotion). You seem amazed, good people; and anxiously
awaiting the solution of this riddle? Draw nearer, my friends! You have
served me truly and affectionately; have looked into my eyes rather than
my purse. My pleasure was your study, my approbation your pride! Woe is
me, that the remembrance of your fidelity must be the record of my
unworthiness! Unhappy fate, that the darkest season of my life should
have been the brightest of yours! (Her eyes suffused with tears. ) We
must part, my children. Lady Milford has ceased to exist, and Joanna of
Norfolk is too poor to repay your love. What little wealth I have my
treasurer will share among you. This palace belongs to the duke. The
poorest of you will quit it far richer than his mistress! Farewell, my
children! (She extends her hand, which they all in turn kiss, with marks
of sorrow and affection. ) I understand you, my good people! Farewell!
forever farewell! (Struggling with her feelings. ) I hear the carriage
at the door. (She tears herself away, and is hurrying out when the
MARSHAL arrests her progress. ) How, now? Pitiful creature, art thou
still there?

MARSHAL (who all this while has been gazing in vacant astonishment at the
letter). And must I be the person to put this letter into the most
august hands of his most serene highness?

LADY MILFORD. Pitiful creature, even thou! Thou must deliver into his
most august hands, and convey to his most august ears, that, as I cannot
go barefoot to Loretto, I will support myself by the labor of my hands,
that I may be purified from the disgrace of having condescended to rule
him. (She hurries off--the rest silently disperse. )




ACT V.

SCENE I. --Twilight; a room in MILLER'S house.

LOUISA sits silent and motionless in a dark corner of the room,
her head reclining upon her hand. After a long pause, MILLER
enters with a lantern, the light of which he casts anxiously
round the chamber, without observing LOUISA, he then puts his
hat on the table, and sets down the lantern.

LOUISA, MILLER.

MILLER. She is not here either. No, she is not here! I have wandered
through every street; I have sought her with every acquaintance; I have
inquired at every door! No one has seen my child! (A silence of some
moments. ) Patience, poor unhappy father! Patience till morning; then
perhaps the corpse of your only one may come floating to shore. Oh, God
in heaven! What though my heart has hung too idolatrously upon this
daughter, yet surely the punishment is severe! Heavenly Father! Surely
it is severe! I will not murmur, Heavenly Father; but the punishment is
indeed severe! (Throws himself sorrowfully into a chair. )

LOUISA (without moving from her seat). Thou dost well, wretched old man!
Learn betimes to lose.

MILLER (starts up eagerly). Ah! art thou there, my child? Art thou
there? But wherefore thus alone, and without a light?

LOUISA. Yet am I not alone. When all things around me are dark and
gloomy then have I the companionship which most I love.

MILLER. God defend thee, my child! The worm of conscience alone wakes
and watches with the owl; none shun the light but criminals and evil
spirits.

LOUISA. And eternity, father, which speaks to the soul in solitude!