University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

Chamber in the Castle.
Baron Weilenberg and Father Philip.
PHILIP.
Self-tyranny in excess provokes rebellion:
The ill-conquered spirit will break off its chains,
And rage still worse! Remorse is surfeit's leech,
Easing, by pain, the hot heart's plethora.
Impatience we prohibit—not remorse;
But gladly bid God-speed where grief is humble.
For if she may do nothing by herself,
Like faith who can do nothing—yet without her,
Repentance never comes, nor that late peace
With healthful tears half-dried upon her cheek—
Whose stern apparitor must sweep the house.

WEILENBERG.
Thou seest how dark it is, but not how foul!

PHILIP.
He sees it better still who pities all—
How mixed and moody, mad and miserable,
Yet how mysterious are we too—as good
Till self-depraved, and may be good again.
Our daily nature seems unnatural
Once every day at least. He that would burn
A metropolitan city in his wrath,
To-morrow scatters crumbs before the birds.
Use thou her scales to weigh thyself—who knew
So well, yet loved so greatly.

WEILENBERG.
She forgave;
The dying lamb complains not! With its breath
No bleatings pass to shame the slaughterer!
This damns an earlier murder.

PHILIP.
What, in war?
War is not murder! Oft the strong are gentle,
And iron-handed soldiership forbears,
While palms, which might be peaceful, itch for vengeance.
All should thus look on strife—but while some love it,
The rest must learn it, and are justified.

WEILENBERG.
There is a curse called down upon myself
By cursing lighter sins in other men.
Answer as he should do whose office awes him,
Speak, servant of the persecuted—thou—
Canst thou absolve it?

PHILIP.
Lord of Weilenberg,
I need no adjurations! In His name,
I say there is forgiveness.

WEILENBERG.
What! for murderers?

PHILIP.
Why else were murderers prayed for? Whom hast slain?

WEILENBERG.
A tyrant for his tyranny, and now
The meek for being such!

PHILIP.
What tyrant was it?

WEILENBERG.
A fellow-soldier in the field when young,
Ill-joined by common friends and services.
One tent sufficed us, followed by one page,
A widow's child, sickly and slow, but patient:
Studious to please, he would have served alike,
But loved the harshest least. Wretch, if he erred,
It was through dread, when threats extorted tears,
And tears provoked to stripes again! He grew
Helpless through blows—was scourged for being helpless!
I found him thus, and smote the murderer.
We fought—behold the avenger! who consumed
In doing that which he, at least, did briefly—
These twenty years!

PHILIP.
The curses of our youth,
Like arrows shot toward Heaven, at last fall down,
To light upon our age! Peace be with both—
For lo, a better comforter!

(Exit Philip. Enter Ellen.)
ELLEN.
My father!

WEILENBERG.
Dost ask me for thy mother, child?—She is
Not as we are, but happy. She rests now!

ELLEN.
I should not be unhappy, were you not.

WEILENBERG.
You did not help to make her miserable.

ELLEN.
She bade us think her happy—and I do so.

WEILENBERG.
She is escaped—at least thank God for that.
One of the two is free!—but art not fearful?

ELLEN.
Of whom?

WEILENBERG.
Of me—thou hast none else to fear.

ELLEN.
What have I done?

WEILENBERG.
Why, what she did,—endured,
And hid thy tears.

ELLEN.
You do affright me now!

WEILENBERG.
I have begun in time—through me were lost
A mother and a lover since the dawn!

ELLEN.
Let me but try to make my father happy,
And I will love none else.

WEILENBERG.
How shouldst thou love me?

ELLEN.
Pray, father, for her sake grant this! It is
The first prayer in her name!

WEILENBERG.
It was her last!

ELLEN.
Will you reject us both, then?

WEILENBERG.
Try to love me!
Remind me daily of my vows last night.
Teach me humility. I would excuse
What must seem cruel, done at such a time.
Let sorrow conquer shame, and both speak plainly—
Count Albert's heart is harder than mine own!
I never could have mingled wine with death,
And drunken brawls with misery.

ELLEN.
I did not wait
Till this was told me.

WEILENBERG.
Did not wait for what?
I cause these tears!

ELLEN.
They are the last for him.
Count Albert knows we shall not meet again.
Before my mother died, I told him so.

WEILENBERG.
It is a vow which death has witnessed, then!
Didst wish to see me less unhappy, Ellen?
I am so now.

[Exeunt.