 | Torrendal |  |
346
ACT IV.
Lodowick's Cottage. Lodowick enters with his Gun, and is met by Marian.Mar.
So, master, what have you been doing
with your gun at this late hour?
Lod.
Nothing. I simply carry it for defence.
Mar.
I scarce believe you. Put it aside, however,
and I'll talk to you.
Lod.
There—Now what would you?
Mar.
Count Torrendal is shut up in his chamber—
Lod.
Well! what of that?
Mar.
How quick you are. Don't think to
blind me, Lodowick; I am sure there is some
project in your head, when you go out at this
time of the evening, arm'd with your gun. You
have not struck a stroke of work this whole
day, but have been prowling up and down the
forest—I know you have. What have you been
about?
Lod.
Beating the woods for game.
Mar.
Never tell me; your dogs have been tied
up; I guess what game it is you have been beating
for. You never kept a secret from me yet, and,
as I hope, I never have betray'd one.
Lod.
No, no, my honest Marian, were all wives
faithful to their trust as you are, I had not now
gone arm'd, as you have seen me; Count Torrendal
had kept his senses, that fine mind, so
fraught with genius, had not been overthrown.
Can you suppose that Courland shall escape
us?
347
Can I suppose that you will turn assassin?
Lod.
We kill things venomous, we crush the
serpent, the watchful shepherd destroys the wolf
that ravages his fold, and shall we spare this
wretch? No, no, we will not—but look! our
master comes—stand aside, Marian! He seems
much disorder'd—
Torrendal in his proper dress as the Count.
Tor.
There, there it is again! a floating ball
Of vaporous fire, that dances in the air,
And now 'tis seen no more—
Ev'n so my senses come and go by fits;
Sometimes a lucid gleam of light revives me,
And then it vanishes, and all is dark—
Oh, my distracted brain! It whirls, it wanders—
Ah, Lody, art thou here? I'm much disturb'd—
Lod.
If there be any thing I can do for you,
Behold me ready with my life to serve you.
Tor.
The killing recollection of the day,
When last I wore this dress, was all too much:
It was the day I parted from Alicia.
Methought I felt her hanging on my neck
In all the frenzy of dissembled woe;
I look'd to see, if her false tears, that stream'd
Upon my mantle, had not left behind
Tracks of the scalding venom, that compos'd them:
The faint remembrance of a certain pledge,
Bestow'd at parting, struck upon my mind;
I search'd, and found, appending to my robe,
Her miniature enamell'd to the life—
Heav'ns! what was then my agony! my eye
Glanc'd on her image, and my brain caught fire,
Frantic I rent the faithless bauble off,
348
Time was I should have worshipp'd what I spurn'd.
Mar.
Ah, my good lord, indulge not these reflections;
They are the food, that melancholy feeds on,
Till, surfeited with sorrow, the heart sickens,
And the soul dies within us.
Tor.
How is this, Lodowick?
Did not I give you means for her escape?
Why have you been thus careless of her safety?
Send her away!
Lod.
Marian, you must withdraw—
Mar.
Now, in his utmost need, must I desert him?
Lod.
Only withdraw—
Mar.
Heav'n in its mercy save him!
[Exit Marian.
Tor.
The evening star is up, and night comes on.
I must away—
Lod.
Whither, and what to do?
Tor.
I have ask'd my heart that question; I have sought
Counsel of heav'n by prayer—I have weigh'd
Forbearance in one scale; revenge in the other—
Mercy with justice, and the upshot is,
Justice prevails—Lo! I am arm'd for vengeance!
Lod.
A dagger! put it up. No, no, my lord,
We'll use no daggers: I have speedier means.
He would not hunt to-day; I know not why:
Had he once stept without the castle gates,
I'd mark'd him for my own.
Tor.
You shall not do it:
You have a virtuous wife, for whom to live;
I've liv'd to see the wreck of every blessing,
And having nothing left, can lose no more.
Therefore no words—I go to meet the duke;
My honour is engag'd to the magician;
349
To mingle with his spell—a villain's blood—
And doubt me not, but I will make a ghost
Ere he can raise one—Silence! no opposing;
Else will the storm, now lull'd, burst out afresh,
And tear my brain to atoms.
Lod.
I have done.
Tor.
'Tis well.
Lod.
Permit me only to attend you—
Tor.
Can you be firm? Can you possess your spirit,
Nor let the horrors of the scene appall you,
Though incantations shake the solid earth,
And ghosts were rent from out their yawning graves
With yells, that, echoing through the charmed air,
Pluck the stars down upon you.
Lod.
Let them come!
Fools gaze at falling stars, and, as for ghosts,
Can I be scar'd with shadows of the dead,
Who fear no living man? Doubt not of me;
When you advance I will not lag behind.
Tor.
Then we're agreed. Now, vengeance, to thy work!
[Exeunt.
An Apartment in the Baron's Castle.
Vanhoven, Baroness.
Van.
Now, madam, wherefore, and with whom,
have you been closeted this many an hour?
Bar.
My confessor has been with me.
Van.
Oh, has he so? Women and monks keep
the world still in dotage. The time will be, when
our enlighten'd sect shall teach them better
things.
350
Heaven in its mercy keep that time at distance,
Or take me from the world before it comes!
Your sect indeed! we do not need their help
To make that worse which is too bad already.
Van.
Speak reverently of my sect—you had best.
Bar.
I know my peril, and I know their power;
But, notwithstanding, I am bold to tell you,
You will repent the business of this night.
Van.
What know you of this night, or any night,
Day, hour, or minute, that is yet to come,
Blest or unblest? Can you expound the signs?
Can you interpret the hermetic code,
Cast horoscopes, or read the stars—Away!
You are an idle woman: I predict
This night will be auspicious to my fame.
Go; leave the room. I have business with my servant.
Adam enters.
Bar.
Infatuated man! will nothing warn you
Till infamy and ruin burst upon you?
Then you will rue this folly, then your spirit
Will be as abject, as 'tis now presumptuous.
[Exit.
Vanhoven, Adam.
Van.
Well, Adam, is the laboratory ready, and
all the apparatus set in order?
Adam.
All ready, and in order, potent sage.
When ghosts obey you, how should I stand out?
Van.
This curious lady will not be content unless
she sees the process.
Adam.
She shall see it, and hear it too. I have
overhaul'd the machinery, and if it is your pleasure
351
groanings and noises under ground—
Van.
Surely it is, when was it not my pleasure?
Adam.
Oh, then I'll do it to your heart's content
in the true style of the infernal spirits; I
have also music for the good ones: if fire and
smoke are wanted, I have rosin, sulphur, and
phosphorus—in short, the circle is chalk'd out,
the black hangings are put up, the lamps lighted,
the cauldron drugg'd, the green dragon display'd,
and death drawn out of his case, a beautiful likeness,
and what I dare say the company will see
with as much satisfaction as they would the original
itself.
Van.
All this is very well; but get back to your
post as quickly as you can, for it is now the hour
we should expect the lady—Away, away! The
duke himself is coming.
[Exit Adam.
Duke of Courland enters.
Duke.
Vanhoven!
Van.
Sir.
Duke.
The countess has prevail'd;
I've yielded my consent. Are you prepar'd
To do the fearful thing that she requires?
Van.
I am prepar'd; but let it be remember'd
I do not court the office, royal sir:
I have your highness's command to obey her,
And if she will persist to urge the spell,
The spectre of her husband will appear.
Duke.
What shape will he assume?
Van.
Such as he was,
Such he will be.
Duke.
I envy her not the interview;
She's a bold woman, if she looks upon him.
352
Your highness then will not attend the process—
Duke.
Not present, but at hand. I've plac'd a guard
Within your call, ready for all occasions;
Give but the signal, I'll be instant with you.
If, by your spell, you can return her to me,
Convinc'd her husband Torrendal is dead,
You'll do me noble service—so farewell!
[Exeunt.
Scene, without the Castle.
Torrendal followed by Lodowick.
Tor.
Why do you follow me? Go home, go home!
I cannot suffer it. I charge you, leave me.
Lod.
Well, if I must, I must—and yet 'tis hard,
Having kept pace so far, I must now stop
Short of the end, and part perhaps for ever.
Tor.
Give me thy hand! If, for the last time, now
We part no more to meet in this bad world,
'Tis not for ever; where our finite ends
Our infinite begins; there is to come
That which shall never cease, that which no time,
No thought of man can measure, or compute:
There we may meet again—Therefore farewell,
Thou honest heart—Peace! not a word—'Tis past.
[Exit.
Lodowick alone.
Lod.
Well, well, it must have way—I cannot help it.
I knew that when the fatal moment came
That we must part, I could not stand the shock:
353
And many a tear of sorrow by the way
Fell unperceiv'd, but not a word had I
To give one thought expression; he too held
Obstinate silence till we reach'd this spot,
The period of his journey—perchance his life.
Officer and Guard of Soldiers enter and seize him.
Offi.
Who are you, friend, and what do you do here?
Lod.
Nothing.
Offi.
That answer won't suffice—Once more
your name and business?
Lod.
My name is Lodowick; that is soon told;
my business, being none, I cannot tell it. Now,
who are you, that put these questions to me?
Offi.
We are the Duke of Courland's bodyguard;
and you must go with us.
Lod.
Well; if I must, it will not be the first
time I've march'd with soldiers. Shew me to the
duke!
Offi.
Search him first; examine, if he has no
secret weapons—His language is suspicious—
And look! I've found this dagger in his bosom.
Lod.
Well, it was in my bosom, and you found
it; where is the great discovery in that?
Offi.
Take him away, and hold him in safe keeping.
[Exeunt.
Scene, the western Tower of the Castle; Moonlight.
Vanhoven enters alone.
Van.
Oh, Rabbi Abraham, Geber, Flamel, Behmen,
354
Weak minister were I without your aid.
Whence are these omens, that conspire to shake me?
As I came forth, my wife, in wild amaze,
Seizing my robe, and dropping on her knees,
Conjur'd me to desist—I put her from me;
Whereat she rose, and, with uplifted hands,
Mad as the Pythian prophetess, exclaim'd—
“Go, desperate man, this night your impious orgies
“Shall draw a dreadful judgment on your house,
“And bloody shall the consummation be”—
I heard, but staid not; when, upon the instant,
The night-bird scream'd amain, the watch-dog howl'd,
And utter'd forth a yell, so like the wailings
Of tortur'd spirits, that it chill'd my blood.
[Clock strikes one.
Hark! the clock warns me that my hour is come—
Where is my proselyte? Where is the stranger,
That promis'd to attend?—Adam, come forth!
Adam comes forth.
Adam.
Master, what would you? From beneath the wings
Of the all-potent dragon I come forth
To know your pleasure—All things are prepar'd.
Van.
That's well, that's well.
Adam.
You tremble, mighty sir.
Van.
Do I? The night-air chills me through my mantle,
And my flesh shivers—Let me have your arm—
Now we will enter—Hark, I hear the steps
Of one approaching—On, good Adam, on!
[They enter the Tower, and the lights immediately appear in the windows of the Magic Chamber.
355
Tor.
The wizzard is at work. His lamps are burning,
And his charm'd cauldron, fed with sulph'rous drugs,
Makes foul the wholesome air, till the moon sickens
With his accursed spell—Be firm, my heart!
For now, (if such permission be to man)
The evil spirits muster at his call,
And hell-engender'd thoughts are wafted round
By the contagious blasting of their breath.
I will no longer bide within their sphere,
Lest my weak brain should suck the poison in,
And, on the sight of my adulterous wife,
Tempt me to draw this murderous dagger forth,
And plunge it in her heart—Oh save me heaven!
In mercy save!—I turn to thy protection.
[Exit.
The Countess, as she enters, sees and watches Torrendal.
Count.
That—that—Oh, that is he!—The moonbeam now
Strikes on his passing figure—'Tis no shadow—
'Tis he—'tis Torrendal; it is my husband,
His form, his air, his slow and stately step—
Oh turn, and, if thou'rt living, speak to me!
If dead, the dead have spoken—
Torrendal is seen again.
Hah! he turns;
My voice has reach'd him—Whatsoe'er thou art,
Spirit or substance, of the air or earth,
Real or spell-created, yet thou wear'st
356
To what I lov'd and lost, that I will kneel
And worship thee in sorrow—
[She kneels—Torrendal approaches.
Tor.
Rise, Alicia!
Him, that you seek, you see—your living husband.
The heart, your cruelty has rent, yet beats,
And reason, which at times forsakes me, serves
Now to demand, what tempted you to wrong me;
Why, when your bosom seem'd the native soil
Of purity and truth, did you invite
A devil to sow it with the rankest seeds
Of treach'ry and pollution?
Count.
Strike, oh strike!
That guilty bosom now invites your sword.
Tor.
No, not for worlds—I've pledg'd myself to heaven,
And, what I've sworn to guard, will not destroy.
Oh, faithless, cruel, and perfidious woman,
What can you urge to palliate your offence?
I never gave you cause to treat me thus;
I never wrong'd you, my unbroken faith,
Firm to this hour as truth itself, remains:
In perfect love, through all vicissitudes
Of good or adverse fortune, I preserv'd
And treasur'd up your image in my heart;
When in my tent, upon the eve of battle,
I sought my God in pray'r, for you, my soul,
Its first, most fervent aspirations breath'd;
Nor in the fight, while death and slaughter rag'd,
Nor after, when with shouts we rent the air
For victory gain'd, did I forget Alicia.
Count.
Indeed! Is't possible? Have I been dup'd
By the vile arts of an insidious villain,
And lur'd to my destruction? I was taught
To think you false, nor, from the hour we parted,
357
To tell me I was yet in your remembrance.
Tor.
In camp, in city, station'd, or on march,
I seiz'd on every opportunity
To write, remonstrate, and bewail your silence.
At length, to all hope lost, my senses wand'ring,
And my heart torn with anguish, I address'd
A mournful letter, blotted with my tears,
To that vile duke, imploring him to tell me
What fatal chance—
Count.
Oh, infamy more base,
Malice more black than ever yet was hatch'd
In heart of demon! he suppress'd it all—
Vanhoven comes forth.
Tor.
How now! Disturb us not—
Van.
Illustrious lady,
The spell is cast. What stays you?
Tor.
Hence! be gone!
Your spells and sorceries are not needed now.
Van.
Hah! is it you?—Behold, the duke approaches—
I must escape in time—
[Exit hastily.
The Duke enters.
Duke.
What do I see? May I believe my eyes?
It is the very form of Torrendal—
Tor.
Wretch, I am Torrendal.
Duke.
Where are my guards?
[The Guards enter, the Duke shrinks back.
Tor.
Detected, trembling dastard, reptile-like,
Do you shrink back and crouch into your shell,
When challeng'd forth to meet an equal foe;
One robb'd of more than half his natural powers
By wrongs, by miseries you have pil'd upon him?
What do you start from? Are you valiant only
358
But slanders, perjuries, and lies to wound with?
And are you leagued only to do the work,
And learn the cozening tricks of petty devils?
Duke.
Can you hear this, and not avenge me, soldiers?
Tor.
If you are soldiers, give a soldier passage;
Open your files, or, single as I am,
I will assail him in the midst of you.
Nay then—defend yourself—
[He rushes upon the Guard, and strikes at the Duke, in which action he is disarmed by the Soldiers.
Duke.
Stop, stop his hand!
Tor.
Ye are not soldiers, ye are slaves.
Duke.
Out with your swords! Put him to instant death!
Count.
Oh, hold, hold, hold! The sword that pierces him,
Shall pass through me.
Duke.
Alicia, are you mad?
Would you protect a traitor, an assassin?
Count.
He, an assassin! No, 'tis you, 'tis I—
We are assassins—Look at him, Oh look!
How sunk his eyes, how ghastly wan his cheek!
Famine and sorrow have consum'd his heart,
And turn'd his brain—that noble mind is lost;
He's not himself; how then can he be judg'd
For actions not his own?
Duke.
Lo, where his dagger,
Aim'd at my heart, and, only turn'd aside
By this good friend, has rent and gash'd my robe—
Do you not see it?
Count.
Yes, I see it clearly.
He rent your garment, you have torn his heart.
Duke.
Take him away. Justice demands the traitor;
And he shall die the death.
359
Yes, you may now
Enjoy the luxury of protracted vengeance,
Load me with fetters, prison me in darkness,
Arraign me as a traitor and assassin,
And, to complete the mockery of justice,
Pass sentence on my life: when you've done this,
You have done all—there closes my account—
Then be prepar'd, adulterer, for thine own.
Duke.
I'll hear no more. Away with him! he dies.
Count.
Stop yet a moment—Grant a moment's pause—
Oh Torrendal, oh husband, turn not from me!
Have pity for a sinful, suffering creature.
I do not dare to raise my eyes for hope,
And ask forgiveness, but I'll humbly kneel
To beg you will not spurn my wretched corpse,
When, on the bloody scaffold at your feet,
Writhing in agonies of death I fall,
And my soul sinks whilst yours ascends to heav'n.
Tor.
Live, and repent! I do not fear to die,
For when the world has thrown aside all order,
Heav'n lost its worship, guilt forgot its shame
And man his nature, who would wish to live?
[He is taken off by the Guard.
Count.
I'll follow him to death—
Duke.
Away! you're mad.
[The Countess follows Torrendal, the Duke turns away, and departs with his Attendants on the opposite side.
| Torrendal | |