University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.
IDA
, alone,
Since my dear Sov'reign died, a sullen stupor
Has rob'd me of reflection. Even the terror
Of interrogatory back'd by torture,
Fail'd to arouse me. Slowly sense returns,
And reason strives to work upon remembrance.
I call to mind some doubts express'd of poison.
O, could there bosom black enough be found,
To strike at such an angel?
Why, I know not,
But I am yet unquestion'd—Sure my heart
Will speak its love by language so convincing,
That ev'n malicious hate would credit me.
I should enquire the event—but every face
Would by its woe increase the pangs I feel.
[The door is thrown open suddenly by Holstein, who totters forward to one side; and in large letters the following is seen affixed to it:]

IDA HOLSTIEN, TRAIT'RESS! APPEAR BEFORE
THE SECRET AVENGERS OF THE
ETERNAL.

Gracious Heav'n, my Father!
[He silently points to the placard.]
Speak to me!
Or I shall die with horror—Do I wake?

HOLSTEIN.
Lo, thy poor father, stung by thy dishonour,
Is hither come to rend his hoary hair,
And so expire before thee.

(falls)
IDA.
O look up,
Kill me not thus, my father, with your anguish;
Look up, and hear your child.

HOLSTEIN.
Begone, pollution!
Thou stain of my unsullied life and honour!
But, god of justice, hear me! if this wretch
Be guilty of the crime imputed to her,
Send thy sharp vengeance down, and strike the trait'ress!
Or let her live—but live to see like me,
A darling object canker'd and deprav'd,
To break her heart with grief, and so expire.

IDA.
Yet hear me, O, my father—I am innocent.

HOLSTEIN.
I will be calm and hear thee—O, my child,
Did I ere think, when, smiling in these arms,
Thy infancy seem'd consecrate to goodness,
That thus I should behold thee stain'd at last!

IDA.
Yet still that sacred breast—By him I swear
Whose essence is the truth, I know no more
Of what they charge upon me, than the babe
Whose eyes first opens on a sinful world.

HOLSTEIN.
Guilt cannot be thus stedfast—my dear daughter,
Yet must there be presumptions of thy guilt;
I tremble to enquire them.

IDA.
Lord of my being!
Were I so wretchedly estrang'd from virtue,
Could I thus gaze upon that form rever'd?
From which no act of mine, so mercy save me,
Ere merited parental ire should frown.
Lead me! where I may answer my accusers.

HOLSTEIN.
Alas! my child, I know not where myself.
The great avengers secretly assemble—
No man divulges where.

IDA.
How then, though cited,
Is the accused person brought to judgment?

HOLSTEIN.
I can acquaint you so far—All accus'd,
When the first quarter after midnight tolls,
Go to the centre of the Market-place—
Thence they are led before the Secret Judges.
If guilty, they are never heard of more.

IDA.
My father, do I tremble?

HOLSTEIN.
Glorious Ida!
(embraces her)
I'll lead you to the place.

IDA.
It is now late—

HOLSTEIN.
It is—Look! when you orb illumes the heavens,
Above the spire, that fronts the palace gate,
It will be time we secretly set forward—

IDA.
You'll stay with me, until the hour arrive.

HOLSTEIN.
I will my child—My limbs will scarce support thee,
Old, and thus palsied by surprise.—Come, Ida.

[Exeunt.
Holstein's House.
Enter ELLEN, followed by HERMAN.
ELLEN.
O tell me not of comfort—She's devoted!
Accursed tyranny has reach'd her life!
I could as soon be brought to think her guilty,
As credit her acquittal.

HERMAN.
Madam, hear me!
Know you the independence of her judges?
Be satisfied, they'll ask for other proof,
Than the mean artifice of Ratibor.

ELLEN.
Would she had ne'er approach'd the domes of greatness!
Had she not been unfortunately loved—

HERMAN.
I pardon the reproaches of despair.
But as my passion drew this storm around her,
I'll fly, and either dissipate the danger,
Or perish with her.

ELLEN.
Say, what means my son?

HERMAN.
To hasten and defend her—Where's your husband?

ELLEN.
Soon as the public accusation met him,
A burst of passion blinded his discernment—
The soldier's honour govern'd all his mind;
He rav'd of ignominious disgrace,
A life of glory blasted now by treason.

HERMAN.
Alas, unhappy friend! Went he in anger?

ELLEN.
I beg'd his patience, but he flung me from him;
And, imprecating curses on himself,
Vow'd if his daughter faulter'd at his presence,
He would himself punish his house's stigma.
And thus at dusk he left me for the palace.

HERMAN.
Madam, I go—thus menaced by a villain,
I will this instant rush to the Tribunal,
Defend myself and her—If there I fall,
And guilty power destroy my Ida with me,
O do not hate my memory! Farewel!

(As he is going out—enter Ulric in armour and the sable plumes and mantle of the Tribunal. Herman starts.)
HERMAN.
Sir! spare a woman's terrors.
[Ulric signs to Ellen, who goes out.
Now, your pleasure.

ULRIC.
To Herman, a convicted foul assassin,
A parricide, a fugitive from prison,
The Invisibles decree immediate death.

HERMAN.
And could their cruelty find out no hand
To urge the vengeance home, but thine, my friend?
For, thus in terrors cloth'd, I know my Ulric.
And wilt thou strike the bosom that has lov'd thee?

ULRIC.
Oh!

[turning aside.
HERMAN.
Do not turn away, my early friend!
Think not I meanly wish to owe my life,
To the opposing friendship against duty.
It is my wish to meet these dark avengers.

ULRIC.
Would it were in my choice to lead you there!
Heav'n knows the anguish that this cruel office
Has planted in my heart—but 'tis not mine,
To mitigate, but execute their pleasure.

HERMAN.
Lo! I am ready—

[baring his breast.
ULRIC.
Spare me yet awhile.
A few short moments to this struggling fondness!
Then as we liv'd in amity together,
United we will quit this wretched world.

HERMAN.
What means my Ulric?

ULRIC.
To perform my oath;—
But never to survive the deed of horrour.
Seek not to shake my well determin'd purpose:
We die together—Let that expiate all.

HERMAN.
Might I but hope my Ida were secure,
I think my death would never raise a pang.

ULRIC.
I am forbid to speak—See there, peruse
The mandate, which thus buries us together.

[Gives the letter.
HERMAN.
Amazement! horror! providential mercy!

ULRIC.
What means my friend—O give me the contents!
That warrant is for death—'twas Ratibor—

HERMAN.
It was indeed: mark, Ulric, its contents.

ULRIC.
Mysterious powers, for this eternal thanks.
[kneeling.
His order death, and this the warrant giv'n!
'Tis virtue now to disobey the mandate,
Giv'n by a murd'rer, who usurps the judge.

HERMAN.
O let us instant hence to succour Ida!

ULRIC.
Stay, let me first consider of the means.
I risk my life to save her. Herman, hear me.
You shall for me appear at the Tribunal;
Ev'n in this dress—I'll teach you the dark signals;
Describe the place of subterraneous meeting.
Haste to the market place—One there will meet you:
To his two questions, answer “earth and groan.”
He leads you to the centre of the wood,
Where, to the question of the guard there plac'd,
“How many steps lead to the throne of truth?”
You answer “thirty”—When you're in the cave,
And one of rank crosses the solemn court,
Draw and hold up this dagger. There Heav'n shield you!
Act then as the emergencies demand.
I'll after Badendorff and lead him thither.

HERMAN.
Let us dispatch, and change habiliments.
A tempest of emotions crouds upon me.

ULRIC.
Nay hence, a moment may be fatal to us.

[Exeunt.
SCENE, the Market-place.
Four streets there centering, and the Church and Porch of St. Bartholomew upon the right hand. A quarter strikes from the tower.
Enter slowly HOLSTEIN, supporting IDA.
HOLSTEIN.
This is the spot—How cold it is, my child.

IDA.
Bitterly keen, and yet my cheek now glows,
Although an ague seems to shake my joints.

HOLSTEIN.
The chimes have struck, and yet no one appears.

IDA.
My father, look, what dark gigantic form,
Stalks solemnly this way?

HOLSTEIN.
Hush!
[The Minister of Vengeance approaches.]
Who goes there?

HOLSTEIN.
'Tis Ida Holstein, and her aged father.

MINISTER OF VENGEANCE.
The Ministers of Vengeance seek the former:
The latter may depart.

HOLSTEIN.
No, lead me with her.
Force not the parent from his guiltless child.

MINISTER OF VENGEANCE.
That must depend upon your answering me.
What are the names we give to these four streets?
This which the moon illumines, I call fire,
That in the shadow, iron—Name the others.
[Finding him silent.]
Ha! silent—hence! this is no place for you.

HOLSTEIN.
I will not leave my child, my darling—

MINISTER OF VENGEANCE.
[Furiously tearing her from him.]
Hence!

[Ida first clasps her father's knees, and then submits. Holstein still about to follow her is prevented by two other followers of the Tribunal, who drive him quite exhausted into the porch, and exeunt. A long pause, after which the second quarter strikes, and then
HOLSTEIN.
Again that dreary voice reluctant tolls,
In sullen signal, that my child has perish'd.
Her sighs now agitate the moaning wind,
And deepen every gust—Hark, 'tis her voice!
That shriek! O God! what horrors croud upon me!
Groans, deadly groans, are humming in my ears,
And my mind shapes such horrible conceits,
That my brain boils! Behold, the murd'rer comes,
To tell me that my fears are realiz'd!

Enter HERMAN in the habit of the Tribunal.
HOLSTEIN
(rushing towards him.)
Thou sable arm of a mysterious judgment,
Reveal to me her fate—I will sustain it.
Madness has touch'd me with his iron mace,
And I am proof against calamity.

HERMAN.
Restrain this transport, my beloved friend—
Know you not Herman?

HOLSTEIN.
He too sacrific'd!

HERMAN.
No! I am he—follow me—and be firm.
There is nor time nor place for explanation.
Follow, observe my conduct—but be silent.

[Exeunt.