Alasco A Tragedy, In Five Acts |
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| 1. | SCENE I. |
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 | Alasco |  |
SCENE I.
The retired part of a Forest, at the close of Evening.Enter Alasco and Conrad.
ALASCO.
No! to be cold in such a cause as this,
Were cowardice, my friend, and not discretion.
“But what has roused them from their lethargy?
“Dismayed and prostrate at the foot of power,
“Their hearts seem'd dead within them.
CONRAD.
Stunn'd a while,
“I grant you, by the blow; but our state quacks
“Have plied them with a course of stimulants,
“And so they throb again; their discipline
“Has lashed us into life, and now our swords
“Give sign of animation.”
ALASCO.
Armed, you say?
And eager for the field?
CONRAD.
Charged like a mine,
And ready to explode. There's not a man of them
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Upon his sword.
ALASCO.
Your sanguine spirit, Conrad,
Always outruns the promise of events—
Provoking fortune. “But why have you so long
“Conceal'd their movements from me?
CONRAD.
“To redeem
My credit for discretion.
ALASCO.
“That's a pledge
“For which there's no redemption.
CONRAD.
“Nay, not so.
“I know you think me rash—impetuous—
“Prompt to set sail with any wind that blows—
“Unballasted, and without chart or compass.
“But here I've used some caution, and observed
“A more deliberate policy, to prove
“The ship sea-worthy, ere my friend embark'd.
ALASCO.
“Discretion, Conrad, sits not easy on you:
“It is too cold a virtue for your use.
“I trust, however, your ardour has not sought
“In spirits sluggish and insensible,
“To stir revolt, to unavailing ruin.”
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No. Their own wrongs have raised a flame that needs
No spark from me.
ALASCO.
They have a cause indeed,
Might warm the coward's blood to enterprize,
And wake the apathy of willing slaves;
“But if they feel it not—if sunk—subdued,
“The general spirit droops, and must be spurr'd
“And goaded on to action, 'tis in vain—
“The rash attempt recoils on their own heads,
“And crushes all their hopes.”
CONRAD.
Lives there a Pole
That should not blush to wear an idle sword!
They feel it, and their hands are on their hilts—
Give but the word—they flash upon the foe.
The chieftains, with Malinski at their head,
Demand their country's freedom, and invoke
Alasco's aid.
ALASCO.
I like not that Malinski.
He's a mere brawler, Conrad—one who loves
To ring his peal loud in the public ear.
A fellow restless—crafty—full of wiles:
Beneath whose slimy surface you may trace
An under current gliding—deep and dangerous.
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“Has revell'd it with profligates, who scoff
“At all restraint, and let the passions loose,
“In riotous excess. 'Mongst such, indeed,
“The fawning slave and factious demagogue
“Are often found; but seek not there, my friend,
“For patriot worth, nor credit private vice
“For public virtue.
CONRAD.
“O! you're hard upon him:
“He has been wild indeed, and thoughtless; yet,
“We soldiers may excuse him.
ALASCO.
Conrad, no!
“The soldier's licence must not stretch so far.
“In the loose camp, and reckless hour of war,
“He cannot always move by moral rule.
“But we've no privilege to compound with crime,
“Or comrade with dishonor.
CONRAD.
“I confess
“He's vain, and for a brave man, rather boisterous;
“But yet, you'll find him fired with noble zeal,
“And hearty in the cause.”
ALASCO.
Beware of him.
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And the low spleen that vulgar natures cherish,
Against the pomps and dignities of the world,
Too oft assume the mask of patriot zeal,
And cheat us, in the garb of public virtue.
CONRAD.
My life upon their honesty and spirit!
This is no flash of thoughtless turbulence—
No sudden burst of feverish discontent,
That in a frantic struggle raves and dies,
But a matured and well-weigh'd enterprize,
Where all is risk'd by those who all have suffer'd,
And each man feels, 'tis victory or death!
ALASCO.
Well, then, there's hope for Poland. As for me,
I hold my sword, my station, and my life,
But as a trust, devoted to my country;
And when she calls, I'm ready.
CONRAD.
They depend
Upon your aid and guidance.
ALASCO.
I will not fail them, Conrad.
Since their own hearts have kindled in this cause,
They'll stand to it like men, and do their duty.
There lies our strength. But must we shake his chains,
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The slave is roused in vain.
[A noise of fighting at a distance.
A voice behind the scenes.
Assassins! murderers!
ALASCO.
This way, Conrad! this way the cry approaches.
(Alasco and Conrad draw their swords and run out. Col. Walsingham enters at the back scene fighting with two ruffians, masked, who nearly overpower him. Alasco and Conrad re-enter to his assistance. Alasco kills one of the assassins, and the other takes to flight.
WALSINGHAM.
Sir, you have nobly rescued me, and saved
A worn out soldier.
ALASCO.
Heavens! Colonel Walsingham!
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Alasco!
ALASCO.
Alone, and in this trackless wood,
Assailed by ruffians—you are wounded, Sir.
WALSINGHAM.
A scratch, skin-deep—the wretch who gave it, would
Have seized my sword—I foiled him, and his life
Has answered it.
ALASCO.
What strange occurrence can
Have led to this?
WALSINGHAM.
I have scarcely breath to tell you.
Proceeding to the castle, as we reached
The outskirts of the forest, a loud cry
Of one in desperate peril, called for help;
We, on the instant, plunged into the wood,
And by the sound conducted, followed far,
Still baffled, and the object of our search
Receding from us; till at length, perplexed,
And doubtful of our course, we stood at fault;
When sudden, from the ambush where they lay,
Three ruffians, masked and muffled, rushed upon us:
Dismayed, my dastardly attendant fled,
And left me to the fate, which your good swords
So timely have prevented.
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O! most fortunate!
Thank heaven! Amantha shared not your alarm.
WALSINGHAM.
She, with her escort had passed on before,
Ere this, I trust, she's safe within the castle.
ALASCO.
Amantha at the castle, did you say?
Amantha safe beneath the roof of Hohendahl!
With wolves and tygers—fiends and devils safe—
But not with Hohendahl—the thought is frenzy!
By Heaven you have compelled her to this course;
Not e'en a father's prayers should have prevailed
To such perdition. No!—
WALSINGHAM.
Alasco, hear me!
For all that life is worth to age, and care,
I am your debtor, and would spare reproaches.
But, if I've sought the safety of my child,
Beneath the Baron's roof, you are yourself
The cause. Peruse this paper.
[Gives him a letter.
ALASCO.
(reading.)
“If you regard the safety of your daughter,
“Remove her from your house without delay;
“The Count Alasco has devised a plan,
“To seize this night, possession of her person;
“He has a force prepared to effect his purpose,
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“In giving you this warning, I conceive
“I act the friend to both, and without scruple
“Therefore, sign it—Conrad.”
CONRAD.
Conrad!
ALASCO.
Confusion!
By Heaven there's treachery here of blackest dye!
My soul is all alarm—the monster Hohendahl
Has hatched some horrid mischief 'gainst Amantha,
And this device has placed her in his power.
CONRAD.
Must I disclaim this baseness, and protest—
ALASCO.
Your hand, my friend! you are above suspicion.
But let us view this miscreant's face more nearly.
(They examine the assassin.
CONRAD.
I have seen these features,—'tis the ruffian brow
Of Rudolph—better named, the Baron's blood-hound.
ALASCO.
As I suspected! a most foul intent,
Combining fraud, and blood, and violation.
Unhappy father! you have placed your child,
E'en in the tyger's grasp—but let me rush
To my Amantha's rescue—on moments now,
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Conduct the Colonel safely through the forest,
Then follow to the castle, with what force
Your zeal may muster, to assist me there.
I fly to save, or perish to avenge her.
(Exit Alasco.
WALSINGHAM.
A sudden light has opened on my soul,
In gleams of horror—Hohendahl's a villain:
A thousand damning proofs now flash around me!
He first suggested danger to Amantha,
And urged me to remove her; nay the wretch
Who fled, and left me to the assassin's daggers,
He sent me as an escort. Powers of mercy!
Have I betrayed my daughter to a ruffian!
CONRAD.
'Twere prudent, Sir, to seek the nearest succour,
Your wound still bleeds.
WALSINGHAM.
The body's hurt is slight,
And soon repaired—but I have a deeper wound;
That's planted here—a wound that bleeds to death—
Struck to the very vitals of my peace;
Yet shall the traitor find, that some warm drops
Are left in this old heart; and they shall flow—
Flow till the very fount of life is dry,
Or else I will have vengeance for this wrong.
[Exeunt.
The reader, I should think, will be at a loss to conceive, what there is morally, or politically wrong in this sentiment, to call forth official indignation:—it points out the folly, if not the wickedness, of stirring up to unavailing effort, those who are not alive to the degradation of slavery, or prepared for the blessings of freedom: it would leave the fruit of liberty to ripen by the natural process, and not force it by stimulants, to an unsound and deceitful maturity.
| Alasco | |