Love and Intrigue

by Friedrich Schiller

  FERDINAND. None, father, none whatever. Frederica of Ostheim would make any other the happiest of men. (Aside, in the greatest agitation.) His kindness rends in pieces that remnant of my heart which his cruelty left unwounded.

  PRESIDENT (his eye still fixed upon him). I expect your gratitude, Ferdinand!

  FERDINAND (rushes towards him and kisses his hands). Father, your goodness awakens every spark of sentiment in my bosom. Father! receive my warmest thanks for your kind intentions. Your choice is unexceptionable! But I cannot-I dare not-pity me, father, I never can love the countess.

  PRESIDENT (draws back). Ha! ha! now I've caught you, young gentleman! The cunning fox has tumbled into the trap. Oh, you artful hypocrite! It was not then honor which made you refuse Lady Milford? It was not the woman, but the nuptials which alarmed you! (FERDINAND stands petrified for a moment; then recovers himself and prepares to quit the chamber hastily.) Whither now? Stay, sir. Is this the respect due to your father? (FERDINAND returns slowly.) Her ladyship expects you. The duke has my promise! Both court and city believe all is settled. If thou makest me appear a liar, boy! If, before the duke-the lady-the court and city-thou shouldst make me appear a liar !-tremble, boy!-or when I have gained information of certain circumstances-how now? Why does the color so suddenly forsake your cheeks?

  FERDINAND (pale and trembling). How? What? Nothing-it is nothing, my father!

  PRESIDENT (casting upon him a dreadful look). Should there be cause. If I should discover the source whence this obstinacy proceeds! Boy! boy! the very suspicion drives me distracted! Leave me this moment. 'Tis now the hour of parade. As soon as the word is given, go thou to her ladyship. At my nod a dukedom trembles; we shall see whether a disobedient son dare dispute my will! (Going, returns.) Remember, sir! fail not to wait on Lady Milford, or dread my anger!

  [Exit.

  FERDINAND (awakens, as if from a dream). Is he gone? Was that a father's voice? Yes, I will go-I will see her-I will say such things to her-hold such a mirror before her eyes. Then, base woman, shouldst thou still demand my hand-in the presence of the assembled nobles, the military, and the people-gird thyself with all the pride of thy native Britain-I, a German youth, will spurn thee!

  [Exit.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.-A room in LADY MILFORD'S house. On the right of the stage stands a sofa, on the left a pianoforte.

  LADY MILFORD, in a loose but elegant negligee, is running her hand

  over the keys of the pianoforte as SOPHY advances from the window.

  SOPHY. The parade is over, and the officers are separating, but I see no signs of the major.

  LADY MILFORD (rises and walks up and down the room in visible agitation). I know not what ails me to-day, Sophy! I never felt so before-you say you do not see him! It is evident enough that he is by no means impatient for this meeting-my heart feels oppressed as if by some heavy crime. Go! Sophy, order the most spirited horse in the stable to be saddled for me-I must away into the open air where I may look on the blue sky and hear the busy hum of man. I must dispel this gloominess by change and motion.

  SOPHY. If you feel out of spirits, my lady, why not invite company! Let the prince give an entertainment here, or have the ombre table brought to you. If the prince and all his court were at my beck and call I would let no whim or fancy trouble me!

  LADY MILFORD (throwing herself on the couch). Pray, spare me. I would gladly give a jewel in exchange for every hour's respite from the infliction of such company! I always have my rooms tapestried with these creatures! Narrow-minded, miserable beings, who are quite shocked if by chance a candid and heartfelt word should escape one's lips! and stand aghast as though they saw an apparition; slaves, moved by a single puppet-wire, which I can govern as easily as the threads of my embroidery! What can I have in common with such insipid wretches, whose souls, like their watches, are regulated by machinery? What pleasure can I have in the society of people whose answers to my questions I know beforehand? How can I hold communion with men who dare not venture on an opinion of their own lest it should differ from mine! Away with them-I care not to ride a horse that has not spirit enough to champ the bit! (Goes to the window.)

  SOPHY. But surely, my lady, you except the prince, the handsomest, the wittiest, and the most gallant man in all his duchy.

  LADY MILFORD (returning). Yes, in his duchy, that was well said-and it is only a royal duchy, Sophy, that could in the least excuse my weakness. You say the world envies me! Poor thing! It should rather pity me! Believe me, of all who drink of the streams of royal bounty there is none more miserable than the sovereign's favorite, for he who is great and mighty in the eyes of others comes to her but as the humble suppliant! It is true that by the talisman of his greatness he can realize every wish of my heart as readily as the magician calls forth the fairy palace from the depths of the earth! He can place the luxuries of both Indies upon my table, turn the barren wilderness to a paradise, can bid the broad rivers of his land play in triumphal arches over my path, or expend all the hard-earned gains of his subjects in a single feu-de-joie to my honor. But can he school his heart to respond to one great or ardent emotion? Can he extort one noble thought from his weak and indigent brain? Alas! my heart is thirsting amid all this ocean of splendor; what avail, then, a thousand virtuous sentiments when I am only permitted to indulge in the pleasures of the senses.

  SOFHY (regarding her with surprise). Dear lady, you amaze me! how long is it since I entered your service?

  LADY MILFORD. Do you ask because this is the first day on which you have learnt to know me? I have sold my honor to the prince, it is true, but my heart is still my own-a heart, dear Sophy, which even yet may be worth the acceptance of an honorable man-a heart over which the pestilential blast of courtly corruption has passed as the breath which for a moment dims the mirror's lustre. Believe me my spirit would long since have revolted against this miserable thraldom could my ambition have submitted to see another advanced to my place.

  SOPHY. And could a heart like yours so readily surrender itself to mere ambition?

  LADY MILFORD (with energy). Has it not already been avenged? nay, is it not even at this very moment making me pay a heavy atonement (with emphasis laying her hand on SOPHY'S shoulder)? Believe me, Sophy, woman has but to choose between ruling and serving, but the utmost joy of power is a worthless possession if the mightier joy of being slave to the man we love be denied us.

  SOPHY. A truth, dear lady, which I could least of all have expected to hear from your lips!

  LADY MILFORD. And wherefore, Sophy? Does not woman show, by her childish mode of swaying the sceptre of power, that she is only fit to go in leading-strings! Have not my fickle humors-my eager pursuit of wild dissipation-betrayed to you that I sought in these to stifle the still wilder throbbings of my heart?

  SOPHY (starting back with surprise). This from you, my lady?

  LADY MILFORD (continuing with increasing energy). Appease these throbbings. Give me the man in whom my thoughts are centered-the man I adore, without whom life were worse than death. Let me but hear from his lips that the tears of love with which my eyes are bedewed outvie the gems that sparkle in my hair, and I will throw at the feet of the prince his heart and his dukedom, and flee to the uttermost parts of the earth with the man of my love!

  SOPHY (looking at her in alarm). Heavens! my lady! control your emotion--

  LADY MILFORD (in surprise). You change color! To what have I given utterance? Yet, since I have said thus much, let me say still more-let my confidence be a pledge of your fidelity,-I will tell you all.

  SOPHY (looking anxiously around). I fear my lady-I dread it-I have heard enough!

  LADY MILFORD. This alliance with the major-you, like the rest of the world, believe to be the result of a court intrigue-Sophy, blush not-be not ashamed of me-it is the work of-my love!

  SOPHY. Heavens! As I suspected!

  LADY MILFORD. Yes, Sophy, they are all deceived. The weak prince-the diplomatic baron-the silly m
arshal-each and all of these are firmly convinced that this marriage is a most infallible means of preserving me to the prince, and of uniting us still more firmly! But this will prove the very means of separating us forever, and bursting asunder these execrable bonds. The cheater cheated-outwitted by a weak woman. Ye yourselves are leading me to the man of my heart-this was all I sought. Let him but once be mine-be but mine-then, oh, then, a long farewell to all this despicable pomp!

  SCENE II.-An old valet of the DUKE'S, with a casket of jewels. The former.

  VALET. His serene highness begs your ladyship's acceptance of these jewels as a nuptial present. They have just arrived from Venice.

  LADY MILFORD (opens the casket and starts back in astonishment). What did these jewels cost the duke?

  VALET. Nothing!

  LADY MILFORD. Nothing! Are you beside yourself? (retreating a step or two.) Old man! you fix on me a look as though you would pierce me through. Did you say these precious jewels cost nothing?

  VALET. Yesterday seven thousand children of the land left their homes to go to America-they pay for all.

  LADY MILFORD (sets the casket suddenly down, and paces up and down the room; after a pause, to the VALET). What distresses you, old man? you are weeping!

  VALET (wiping his eyes, and trembling violently). Yes, for these jewels. My two sons are among the number.

  LADY MILFORD. But they went not by compulsion?

  VALET (laughing bitterly). Oh! dear no! they were all volunteers! There were certainly some few forward lads who pushed to the front of the ranks and inquired of the colonel at what price the prince sold his subjects per yoke, upon which our gracious ruler ordered the regiments to be marched to the parade, and the malcontents to be shot. We heard the report of the muskets, and saw brains and blood spurting about us, while the whole band shouted-"Hurrah for America!"

  LADY MILFORD. And I heard nothing of all this! saw nothing!

  VALET. No, most gracious lady, because you rode off to the bear-hunt with his highness just at the moment the drum was beating for the march. 'Tis a pity your ladyship missed the pleasure of the sight-here, crying children might be seen following their wretched father-there, a mother distracted with grief was rushing forward to throw her tender infant among the bristling bayonets-here, a bride and bridegroom were separated with the sabre's stroke-and there, graybeards were seen to stand in despair, and fling their very crutches after their sons in the New World -and, in the midst of all this, the drums were beating loudly, that the prayers and lamentations might not reach the Almighty ear.

  LADY MILFORD (rising in violent emotion). Away with these jewels-their rays pierce my bosom like the flames of hell. Moderate your grief, old man. Your children shall be restored to you. You shall again clasp them to your bosom.

  VALET (with warmth). Yes, heaven knows! We shall meet again! As they passed the city gates they turned round and cried aloud: "God bless our wives and children-long life to our gracious sovereign. At the day of judgment we shall all meet again!"

  LADY MILFORD (walks up and down the room in great agitation). Horrible! most horrible!-and they would persuade me that I had dried up all the tears in the land. Now, indeed, my eyes are fearfully opened ! Go-tell the prince that I will thank him in person! (As the valet is going she drops the purse into his hat.) And take this as a recompense for the truth you have revealed to me.

  VALET (throws the purse with contempt on the table). Keep it, with your other treasures. [Exit.

  LADY MILFORD (looking after him in astonishment). Sophy, follow him, and inquire his name. His sons shall be restored to him. (SOPHY goes. LADY MILFORD becomes absorbed in thought. Pause. Then to SOPHY as she returns.) Was there not a report that some town on the frontier had been destroyed by fire, and four hundred families reduced to beggary? (She rings.)

  SOPHY. What has made your ladyship just think of that? Yes-such was certainly the fact, and most of these poor creatures are either compelled to serve their creditors as bondsmen, or are dragging out their miserable days in the depths of the royal silver mines.

  Enter a SERVANT. What are your ladyship's commands?

  LADY MILFORD (giving him the case of jewels). Carry this to my treasurer without delay. Let the jewels be sold and the money distributed among the four hundred families who were ruined by the fire.

  SOPHY. Consider, my lady, the risk you run of displeasing his highness.

  LADY MILFORD (with dignity). Should I encircle my brows with the curses of his subjects? (Makes a sign to the servant, who goes away with the jewel case.) Wouldst thou have me dragged to the earth by the dreadful weight of the tears of misery? Nay! Sophy, it is better far to wear false jewels on the brow, and to have the consciousness of a good deed within the breast!

  SOPHY. But diamonds of such value! Why not rather give some that are less precious? Truly, my lady, it is an unpardonable act.

  LADY MILFORD. Foolish girl! For this deed more brilliants and pearls will flow for me in one moment than kings ever wore in their richest diadems! Ay, and infinitely more beautiful!

  SERVANT enters. Major von Walter!

  SOPHY (running hastily to the help of LADY MILFORD, who seems fainting). Heavens, my lady, you change color!

  LADY MILFORD. The first man who ever made me tremble. (To the SERVANT.) I am not well-but stay-what said the major?-how? O Sophy! I look sadly ill, do I not?

  SOPHY. I entreat you, my lady, compose yourself.

  SERVANT. Is it your ladyship's wish that I should deny you to the major?

  LADY MILFORD (hesitating). Tell him-I shall be happy to see him. (Exit SERVANT.) What shall I say to him, Sophy? how shall I receive him? I will be silent-alas! I fear he will despise my weakness. He will-ah, me! what sad forebodings oppress my heart! You are going Sophy! stay, yet-no, no-he comes-yes, stay, stay with me--

  SOPHY. Collect yourself, my lady, the major--

  SCENE III.-FERDINAND VON WALTER. The former.

  FERDINAND (with a slight bow). I hope I do not interrupt your ladyship?

  LADY MILFORD (with visible emotion). Not at all, baron-not in the least.

  FERDINAND. I wait on your ladyship, at the command of my father.

  LADY MILFORD. Therein I am his debtor.

  FERDINAND. And I am charged to announce to you that our marriage is determined on. Thus far I fulfil the commission of my father.

  LADY MILFORD (changing color and trembling). And not of your own heart?

  FERDINAND. Ministers and panders have no concern with hearts.

  LADY MILFORD (almost speechless with emotion). And you yourself-have you nothing to add?

  FERDINAND (looking at SOPHY). Much! my lady, much!

  LADY MILFORD (motions to SOPHY to withdraw). May I beg you to take a seat by my side?

  FERDINAND. I will be brief, lady.

  LADY MILFORD. Well!

  FERDINAND. I am a man of honor!

  LADY MILFORD. Whose worth I know how to appreciate.

  FERDINAND. I am of noble birth!

  LADY MILFORD. Noble as any in the land!

  FERDINAND. A soldier!

  LADY MILFORD (in a soft, affectionate manner). Thus far you have only enumerated advantages which you share in common with many others. Why are you so silent regarding those noble qualities which are peculiarly your own?

  FERDINAND (coldly). Here they would be out of place.

  LADY MILFORD (with increasing agitation). In what light am I to understand this prelude?

  FERDINAND (slowly, and with emphasis). As the protest of the voice of honor-should you think proper to enforce the possession of my hand!

  LADY MILFORD (starting with indignation). Major von Walter! What language is this?

  FERDINAND (calmly). The language of my heart-of my unspotted name-and of this true sword.

  LADY MILFORD. Your sword was given to you by the prince.

  FERDINAND. 'Twas the state which gave it, by the hands of the prince. God bestowed on me an honest heart. My nobility is derived from a line of a
ncestry extending through centuries.

  LADY MILFORD. But the authority of the prince--

  FERDINAND (with warmth). Can he subvert the laws of humanity, or stamp glory on our actions as easily as he stamps value on the coin of his realm? He himself is not raised above the laws of honor, although he may stifle its whispers with gold-and shroud his infamy in robes of ermine! But enough of this, lady!-it is too late now to talk of blasted prospects-or of the desecration of ancestry-or of that nice sense of honor-girded on with my sword-or of the world's opinion. All these I am ready to trample under foot as soon as you have proved to me that the reward is not inferior to the sacrifice.

  LADY MILFORD (in extreme distress turning away). Major! I have not deserved this!

  FERDINAND (taking her hand). Pardon me, lady-we are without witnesses. The circumstance which brings us together to-day-and only to-day- justifies me, nay, compels me, to reveal to you my most secret feelings. I cannot comprehend, lady, how a being gifted with so much beauty and spirit-qualities which a man cannot fail to admire-could throw herself away on a prince incapable of valuing aught beyond her mere person-and yet not feel some visitings of shame, when she steps forth to offer her heart to a man of honor!

  LADY MILFORD (looking at him with an air of pride). Say on, sir, without reserve.

  FERDINAND. You call yourself an Englishwoman-pardon me, lady, I can hardly believe you. The free-born daughter of the freest people under heaven-a people too proud to imitate even foreign virtues-would surely never have sold herself to foreign vices! It is not possible, lady, that you should be a native of Britain, unless indeed your heart be as much below as the sons of Britannia vaunt theirs to be above all others!

  LADY MILFORD. Have you done, sir?

  FERDINAND. Womanly vanity-passions-temperament-a natural appetite for pleasure-all these might, perhaps, be pleaded in extenuation-for virtue often survives honor-and many who once trod the paths of infamy have subsequently reconciled themselves to society by the performance of noble deeds, and have thus thrown a halo of glory round their evil doings-but if this were so, whence comes the monstrous extortion that now oppresses the people with a weight never before known? This I would ask in the name of my fatherland-and now, lady, I have done!