University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—A Hall in the same Palace.
Enter Idenstein and Others.
Iden.
Fine doings! goodly doings! honest doings!
A Baron pillaged in a Prince's palace!
Where, till this hour, such a sin ne'er was heard of.

Fritz.
It hardly could, unless the rats despoiled
The mice of a few shreds of tapestry.

Iden.
Oh! that I e'er should live to see this day!
The honour of our city's gone for ever.

Fritz.
Well, but now to discover the delinquent:
The Baron is determined not to lose
This sum without a search.

Iden.
And so am I.

Fritz.
But whom do you suspect?

Iden.
Suspect! all people
Without—within—above—below—Heaven help me!

Fritz.
Is there no other entrance to the chamber?

Iden.
None whatsoever.

Fritz.
Are you sure of that?

Iden.
Certain. I have lived and served here since my birth,
And if there were such, must have heard of such,
Or seen it.

Fritz.
Then it must be some one who
Had access to the antechamber.

Iden.
Doubtless.

Fritz.
The man called Werner's poor!

Iden.
Poor as a miser.
But lodged so far off, in the other wing,
By which there's no communication with
The baron's chamber, that it can't be he.
Besides, I bade him “good night” in the hall,
Almost a mile off, and which only leads
To his own apartment, about the same time
When this burglarious, larcenous felony
Appears to have been committed.

Fritz.
There's another,
The stranger—

Iden.
The Hungarian?

Fritz.
He who helped
To fish the baron from the Oder.

Iden.
Not
Unlikely. But, hold—might it not have been
One of the suite?

Fritz.
How? We, sir!

Iden.
No—not you,
But some of the inferior knaves. You say
The Baron was asleep in the great chair—
The velvet chair—in his embroidered night-gown;
His toilet spread before him, and upon it
A cabinet with letters, papers, and
Several rouleaux of gold; of which one only
Has disappeared:—the door unbolted, with
No difficult access to any.

Fritz.
Good sir,
Be not so quick; the honour of the corps
Which forms the Baron's household's unimpeached
From steward to scullion, save in the fair way
Of peculation; such as in accompts,
Weights, measures, larder, cellar, buttery,
Where all men take their prey; as also in
Postage of letters, gathering of rents,
Purveying feasts, and understanding with
The honest trades who furnish noble masters;
But for your petty, picking, downright thievery,
We scorn it as we do board wages. Then
Had one of our folks done it, he would not
Have been so poor a spirit as to hazard
His neck for one rouleau, but have swooped all;
Also the cabinet, if portable.

Iden.
There is some sense in that—

Fritz.
No, Sir, be sure
Twas none of our corps; but some petty, trivial
Fcker and stealer, without art or genius.
The only question is—Who else could have
Access, save the Hungarian and yourself?

Iden.
You don't mean me?

Fritz.
No, sir; I honour more
Your talents—

Iden.
And my principles, I hope.

Fritz.
Of course. But to the point: What's to be done?

Iden.
Nothing—but there's a good deal to be said.
We'll offer a reward; move heaven and earth,
And the police (though there's none nearer than
Frankfort); post notices in manuscript
(For we've no printer); and set by my clerk
To read them (for few can, save he and I).
We'll send out villains to strip beggars, and
Search empty pockets; also, to arrest
All gipsies, and ill-clothed and sallow people.
Prisoners we'll have at least, if not the culprit;
And for the Baron's gold—if 'tis not found,
At least he shall have the full satisfaction
Of melting twice its substance in the raising
The ghost of this rouleau. Here's alchemy
For your Lord's losses!

Fritz.
He hath found a better.

Iden.
Where?

Fritz.
In a most immense inheritance.
The late Count Siegendorf, his distant kinsman,
Is dead near Prague, in his castle, and my Lord
Is on his way to take possession.

Iden.
Was there
No heir?

Fritz.
Oh, yes; but he has disappeared
Long from the world's eye, and, perhaps, the world.
A prodigal son, beneath his father's ban
For the last twenty years; for whom his sire
Refused to kill the fatted calf; and, therefore,
If living, he must chew the husks still. But
The Baron would find means to silence him,
Were he to re-appear: he's politic,
And has much influence with a certain court.

Iden.
He's fortunate.

Fritz.
'Tis true, there is a grandson,
Whom the late Count reclaimed from his son's hands,
And educated as his heir; but, then,
His birth is doubtful.

Iden.
How so?

Fritz.
His sire made
A left-hand, love, imprudent sort of marriage,
With an Italian exile's dark-eyed daughter:
Noble, they say, too; but no match for such
A house as Siegendorf's. The grandsire ill
Could brook the alliance; and could ne'er be brought
To see the parents, though he took the son.

Iden.
If he's a lad of mettle, he may yet
Dispute your claim, and weave a web that may
Puzzle your Baron to unravel.

Fritz.
Why,
For mettle, he has quite enough: they say,
He forms a happy mixture of his sire
And grandsire's qualities,—impetuous as
The former, and deep as the latter; but
The strangest is, that he too disappeared
Some months ago.

Iden.
The devil he did!

Fritz.
Why, yes:
It must have been at his suggestion, at
An hour so critical as was the eve
Of the old man's death, whose heart was broken by it.

Iden.
Was there no cause assigned?

Fritz.
Plenty, no doubt.
And none, perhaps, the true one. Some averred
It was to seek his parents; some because
The old man held his spirit in so strictly
(But that could scarce be, for he doted on him);
A third believed he wished to serve in war,
But, peace being made soon after his departure,
He might have since returned, were that the motive;
A fourth set charitably have surmised,
As there was something strange and mystic in him,
That in the wild exuberance of his nature
He had joined the black bands, who lay waste Lusatia,
The mountains of Bohemia and Silesia,
Since the last years of war had dwindled into
A kind of general condottiero system
Of bandit-warfare; each troop with its chief,
And all against mankind.

Iden.
That cannot be.
A young heir, bred to wealth and luxury,
To risk his life and honours with disbanded
Soldiers and desperadoes!

Fritz.
Heaven best knows!
But there are human natures so allied
Unto the savage love of enterprise,
That they will seek for peril as a pleasure.
I've heard that nothing can reclaim your Indian,
Or tame the tiger, though their infancy
Were fed on milk and honey. After all,
Your Wallenstein, your Tilly and Gustavus,
Your Bannier, and your Torstenson and Weimar,
Were but the same thing upon a grand scale;
And now that they are gone, and peace proclaimed,
They who would follow the same pastime must
Pursue it on their own account. Here comes
The Baron, and the Saxon stranger, who
Was his chief aid in yesterday's escape,
But did not leave the cottage by the Oder
Until this morning.

Enter Stralenheim and Ulric.
Stral.
Since you have refused
All compensation, gentle stranger, save
Inadequate thanks, you almost check even them,
Making me feel the worthlessness of words,
And blush at my own barren gratitude,
They seem so niggardly, compared with what
Your courteous courage did in my behalf—

Ulr.
I pray you press the theme no further.

Stral.
But
Can I not serve you? You are young, and of
That mould which throws out heroes; fair in favour;
Brave, I know, by my living now to say so;
And, doubtlessly, with such a form and heart,
Would look into the fiery eyes of War,
As ardently for glory as you dared
An obscure death to save an unknown stranger,
In an as perilous, but opposite, element.
You are made for the service: I have served;
Have rank by birth and soldiership, and friends,
Who shall be yours. 'Tis true this pause of peace
Favours such views at present scantily;
But 'twill not last, men's spirits are too stirring;
And, after thirty years of conflict, peace
Is but a petty war, as the time shows us
In every forest, or a mere armed truce.
War will reclaim his own; and, in the meantime,
You might obtain a post, which would ensure
A higher soon, and, by my influence, fail not
To rise. I speak of Brandenburgh, wherein
I stand well with the Elector; in Bohemia,
Like you, I am a stranger, and we are now
Upon its frontier.

Ulr.
You perceive my garb
Is Saxon, and, of course, my service due
To my own Sovereign. If I must decline
Your offer, 'tis with the same feeling which
Induced it.

Stral.
Why, this is mere usury!
I owe my life to you, and you refuse
The acquittance of the interest of the debt,
To heap more obligations on me, till
I bow beneath them.

Ulr.
You shall say so when
I claim the payment.

Stral.
Well, sir, since you will not—
You are nobly born?

Ulr.
I have heard my kinsmen say so.

Stral.
Your actions show it. Might I ask your name?

Ulr.
Ulric.

Stral.
Your house's?

Ulr.
When I'm worthy of it,
I'll answer you.

Stral.
(aside).
Most probably an Austrian,
Whom these unsettled times forbid to boast
His lineage on these wild and dangerous frontiers,
Where the name of his country is abhorred.
[Aloud to Fritz and Idenstein.
So, sirs! how have ye sped in your researches?

Iden.
Indifferent well, your Excellency.

Stral.
Then
I am to deem the plunderer is caught?

Iden.
Humph!—not exactly.

Stral.
Or, at least, suspected?

Iden.
Oh! for that matter, very much suspected.

Stral.
Who may he be?

Iden.
Why, don't you know, my Lord?

Stral.
How should I? I was fast asleep.

Iden.
And so
Was I—and that's the cause I know no more
Than does your Excellency.

Stral.
Dolt!

Iden.
Why, if
Your Lordship, being robbed, don't recognise
The rogue; how should I, not being robbed, identify
The thief among so many? In the crowd,
May it please your Excellency, your thief looks
Exactly like the rest, or rather better:
'Tis only at the bar and in the dungeon,
That wise men know your felon by his features;
But I'll engage, that if seen there but once,
Whether he be found criminal or no,
His face shall be so.

Stral.
(to Fritz).
Prithee, Fritz, inform me
What hath been done to trace the fellow?

Fritz.
Faith!
My Lord, not much as yet, except conjecture.

Stral.
Besides the loss (which, I must own, affects me
Just now materially), I needs would find
The villain out of public motives; for
So dexterous a spoiler, who could creep
Through my attendants, and so many peopled
And lighted chambers, on my rest, and snatch
The gold before my scarce-closed eyes, would soon
Leave bare your borough, Sir Intendant!

Iden.
True;
If there were aught to carry off, my Lord.

Ulr.
What is all this?

Stral.
You joined us but this morning.
And have not heard that I was robbed last night.

Ulr.
Some rumour of it reached me as I passed
The outer chambers of the palace, but
I know no further.

Stral.
It is a strange business:
The Intendant can inform you of the facts.

Iden.
Most willingly. You see—

Stral.
(impatiently).
Defer your tale,
Till certain of the hearer's patience.

Iden.
That
Can only be approved by proofs. You see—

Stral.
(again interrupting him, and addressing Ulric).
In short, I was asleep upon my chair,
My cabinet before me, with some gold
Upon it (more than I much like to lose,
Though in part only): some ingenious person
Contrived to glide through all my own attendants,
Besides those of the place, and bore away
A hundred golden ducats, which to find
I would be fain, and there's an end. Perhaps
You (as I still am rather faint) would add
To yesterday's great obligation, this,
Though slighter, yet not slight, to aid these men
(Who seem but lukewarm) in recovering it?

Ulr.
Most willingly, and without loss of time—
(To Idenstein.)
Come hither, mynheer!

Iden.
But so much haste bodes
Right little speed, and—

Ulr.
Standing motionless
None; so let's march: we'll talk as we go on.

Iden.
But—

Ulr.
Show the spot, and then I'll answer you.

Fritz.
I will, sir, with his Excellency's leave.

Stral.
Do so, and take yon old ass with you.

Fritz.
Hence!

Ulr.
Come on, old oracle, expound thy riddle!

[Exit with Idenstein and Fritz.
Stral.
(solus).
Enter Gabor.

Gab.
As those who fare well everywhere, when they
Have supped and slumbered, no great matter how—
And you, my Lord?

Stral.
Better in rest than purse:
Mine inn is like to cost me dear.

Gab.
I heard
Of your late loss; but 'tis a trifle to
One of your order.

Stral.
You would hardly think so,
Were the loss yours.

Gab.
I never had so much
(At once) in my whole life, and therefore am not
Fit to decide. But I came here to seek you.
Your couriers are turned back—I have outstripped them,
In my return.

Stral.
You!—Why?

Gab.
I went at daybreak,
To watch for the abatement of the river,
As being anxious to resume my journey.
Your messengers were all checked like myself;
And, seeing the case hopeless, I await
The current's pleasure.

Stral.
Would the dogs were in it!
Why did they not, at least, attempt the passage?
I ordered this at all risks.

Gab.
Could you order
The Oder to divide, as Moses did
The Red Sea (scarcely redder than the flood
Of the swoln stream), and be obeyed, perhaps
They might have ventured.

Stral.
I must see to it:
The knaves! the slaves!—but they shall smart for this.

[Exit Stralenheim.
Gab.
(solus).
There goes my noble, feudal, self-willed Baron!
Epitome of what brave chivalry
The preux Chevaliers of the good old times
Have left us. Yesterday he would have given
His lands (if he hath any), and, still dearer,
His sixteen quarterings, for as much fresh air
As would have filled a bladder, while he lay
Gurgling and foaming half way through the window
Of his o'erset and water-logged conveyance;
And now he storms at half a dozen wretches
Because they love their lives too! Yet, he's right:
'Tis strange they should, when such as he may put them
To hazard at his pleasure. Oh, thou world!
Thou art indeed a melancholy jest!

[Exit Gabor.