University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A wild Forest Scene: Fredolfo's Castle and St. Gothard in the back ground. Time, evening. Fredolfo enters, lost in meditation; he is silent for some time, then starts on looking round him and discovering where he is.
Fred.
Where am I now?—Where have my wanderings led me?
It is the scene!—that bare and blasted pine—
It is the hour!—that pale and stormy twilight—
It is the spot!—I yet could count the blood-drops.—
(Staggering with horror, as he traces every distinct spot.)
Here long he strove,—and still I grappled with him,—
And here I fell with him,—in horror roll'd;—
Here his strong foot-stamps tore the bloody earth up!
Here the trail'd corse track'd every step with gore,—
The demon, Berthold, grinning at his burden!
And here—Hark! hark!—a voice—a step—a spy!—

Waldo enters, and Fredolfo turns on him very sternly.
Fred.
“What makes thee wandering here so late?

Wal.
“I sought you.

Fred.
“Sought me, and wherefore, sir? am I that thing
“My slaves must watch, and say ‘'tis vesper time,
“And you must hie you home?’—what is't to thee
“If here I linger'd seeking home no more?—

Wal.
“Oh quit, my lord, this lonely fearful place!

Fred.
(Starting.)
“What is there in its gloom of loneliness,
“That should suggest that wish?

Wal.
“I know not, sir!

Fred.
“Nor I,—begone!

Wal.
“These lone and nightly walks
“Do much impair your strength.

Fred.
(with gloomy carelessness.)
“It is no matter.

Wal.
“Count Wallenberg—

Fred.
“Begone, or I shall hate thee; name his name,
“And the loud echo of these pines shall curse thee,
Being of mountains born—away, begone!—
Let the dew fall, or let the tempest rave,
To me it recks not. Slave! must I bid twice?

Fred.
(Alone, looking after Waldo.)
He knows it—yes, he knows it!—'tis no matter—
The world must know it.—Berthold—ay—his image
Darts like an adder in my mental path,
Where'er I turn my thoughts.—Years, years, have fleeted,—
The deed is dead—the slumbering world forgets—
The tide of time sweeps by, and in its murmurs
Has drown'd suspicion's whisper.—All is safe—
But Berthold lives in vivid consciousness,
The wakeful demon of the buried secret,
Watching the hour when vengeance reads the spell:
He lives—he knows—he hates—and he betrays!
“Fiend form'd in wrath to urge and lash the crime!
“I saw the burning malice of thy glance,
“I saw the hellish menace of thy scowl,
“I felt the thunder of thy parting tread,
“That parting told of meeting soon—and terrible!”
(Pausing and looking round. A burst of military music.)
(With great horror.)
Wherefore is this? if it be Wallenberg—
If?—if?—there is nor doubt, nor hope—'tis he!

Enter Berthold.
Bert.
(Sneeringly.)
Hail, noble sir!—my lord, Count Wallenberg,
Would crave a moment's audience of your leisure,
On matters that concern the state's behoof.

Fred.
(Beginning the speech with assumed dignity, and then losing all self-command.)
Say to your lord—no matter—go, thou wretch!
I can bear aught but thy abhorred sight!

Enter Wallenberg, Knights, and military Attendants.
Wall.
(with irony throughout.)
Once more a late and uninvited guest,
I press upon Fredolfo's privacy;—
In faith, my lord, your ample, noble usage
Shames a way-worn and humble traveller;—
You scorn above your guests to spread a canopy
Less spacious than the heavens, or yield them hangings
Less richly wrought than those pine-skirted rocks.—
Berthold, thou know'st his mood—I pray thee, tell him
That wandering knights his mountain-palace seek
All in the twilight pale, and pray him dear,
For knighthood's sake, to do them courtesy.

[A look of triumphant consciousness to pass between Wallenberg and Berthold.
Bert.
(Approaching Fredolfo.)
My lord Fredolfo, you have heard my message;—
Throw wide your ample halls; within their range
There are strange objects of peculiar interest,
Which sure yon noble traveller fain would see!

Fred.
(Turning on him.)
Sir—to your lord I answer:—Wallenberg,
Your arm, last night, was raised against my life;
If through yon gates, unshrinking, you can pass—
If on my halls unblushing you can tread,
Enter;—but, to your proud luxurious train
My mountain-hut will prove a homely hostel.

Wall.
We will not trespass on your bounty yet;—
I would inhale this free and mountain air,
Whose impulse to the soaring soul doth lend
Pure inspiration,—'mid whose holy waftings
To breathe is to be virtuous!—O, my lord,
How sweet, while wandering 'mid these solemn shades,
To commune with your clear and lofty spirit,—
What recollections follow you—

Fred.
(Starting.)
My lord!—

Wall.
What high associations!—doubtless, here,
From every pine a kindred spirit whispers,
And every turf you tread thrills as you touch it
With grateful memory of some glorious action.

Fred.
Sir—of your praise I reck not—my fallen country,
Amid her ruins, may remember one
Whose single arm upheld the pile, and last,
Amid its shivering fragments, rear'd its strength,
Till nought was left to save!—Of your wild words,
Or of their unsought meaning, sir, I am
Unheeding as unconscious!

Wall.
Be not chafed!
Treat not thus roughly guests, who, all for love,
Through the dim, perilous, and stormy eve,
Have breathless spurred to bear you joyful tidings.

Fred.
Tidings, my lord?

Wall.
Yes,—tidings, honoured sir!
And glorious tidings for the patriot's ear,
When lurking crime is dragg'd from its foul hold!
There are tidings, sir, in Altdorf—the proud city
Is full of busy murmurs;—in her streets,
Men grasp each other's hands, as each had found
Their heart's best wishes,—joying that the search
Hath ceased—the man of blood at last is found!

Fred.
(Trembling.)
The man of blood is found!—

Wall.
My father's murderer,
Thou knowest, hath through long years been vainly sought.

Fred.
(Much agitated.)
I must—I do remember very well—

Wall.
The murderer of Wallenberg is traced—
[Pauses long, fixing his eye on Fredolfo, whose emotion is visible.
The murderer of Wallenberg is known—
[Again.
The murderer of Wallenberg is seized!—
[Rushes on him.
Here, take him, guards, and drag him to your dungeons!

[Giving him to the guards.
Fred.
(Struggling.)
This unsupported charge—this lawless outrage—
Off, slaves!—Proud Austrian, at your peril be it—
This matchless insult!—have I then no friend?
No brand of follower raised in my defence?
Beneath the shade of mine own native towers,
Like gyved felon, am I helpless dragg'd,
No arm to aid, no voice to plead for me?—

Bert.
Let not my lord thus call for hopeless aid,
While Berthold's zealous duty waits unclaim'd!
Mine be the voice whose sounds shall whisper peace,—
Mine be the arm whose help is sure and speedy.

Wall.
Away, thou gibing fiend, with thy vile mockery,
Crush not the fallen victim.—Murderer,
We bind the chain around thy doomed body,
And summon thee to meet thy mortal judgment!

Urilda rushes in.
Uril.
(Shrieking.)
Hold, hold, for mercy! 'tis his daughter kneels,
O, ye are human, though ye look not so!—
Wallenberg—and my father!—fetters! guards!
What is this fearful dream?

Wall.
It is no dream—
Wake from thy trance of pride, vain girl, and know
I grasp the chain that drags him to the scaffold!

Fred.
Why art thou here?

Uril.
Dark men look sternly on thee,
Thy hands are bound—and dost thou ask thy child,
‘Why art thou here!’

Wall.
'Twere well, fair maid, to spare
This lavish luxury of sorrowing beauty.—
Wring thy white hands before the judgment seat;
Spread thy bright locks like hovering angel's plumes
When the axe trembles o'er thy father's head;—
Perchance the hoary Syndics then may weep;—
Perchance the headsman's quivering hand may pause
Ere the blow falls upon that murderer's neck.—

Uril.
Murderer!—my father!—
Villain! and liar!—O! I feel unsex'd!
O, that this hand were in a gauntlet mail'd,
And I would fearless down thy slanderous throat
Dash the foul falsehood.—Speak, my father, speak!
O, the bright energy of conscious truth,
The pure clear light of thy most cloudless soul,
Will sink these baffled slaves to earth before thee,
And turn this shame to worship.—Father, speak!

Wall.
Ay! let him speak!

[They all gather round him—He stands paralyzed with horror among them.
Bert.
Speak, noble, injured lord,
And dart conviction on our dazzled souls!

Uril.
Away! ye harass him—he'll list to me—
He doth not know your voices.—Father! Father!
One word,—those chains from your freed hands shall fall,—
One word,—these slaves are prostrate at your feet.
Speak! Speak! (shrieking with agony.)


Fred.
Lead on!

[Falls senseless in the arms of the Guard.
Uril.
(struggling.)
Ye shall not tear him from me!—
Stay!—he will speak anon—he is overpower'd!
[She kneels between Wallenberg and Berthold, supplicating them alternately, with desperate and hopeless eagerness.
Berthold! thou wast his vassal—plead for me!
Wallenberg!—thou didst woo me;—look on me!
None, none will hear me!—he, even he is deaf!
A dungeon—God! my father in a dungeon!
Drag—drag him there—but I must follow him!

[She is dragged off, clinging to Fredolfo, who remains senseless.

SCENE II.

Altdorf; Picturesque buildings in the Gothic style—The Prison in perspective—Austrian Guards, repelling the Swiss who fill the streets —Adelmar in disguise among them.
Swiss.
(To an Austrian, who is driving him back.)
I pray thee now, good ruffian, spurn me not!
I will stand here right patiently, to see
Mine ancient master to a prison borne,
And to mine home bear back a broken heart.

Adel.
Who art thou that speakest kindly of Fredolfo?

Swiss.
And who art thou, that of a free-born Swiss
Asks if he loves Fredolfo?

Adel.
Can ye love him,
And see him clutch'd in their foul, damned grasp?
The stones do heave and quiver at his tread,
Yet ye are mute and motionless!
The walls are trembling where the champion walks
His way to shame—yet ye no feeling have!
The very air seems tortured by the echo
That answers to his name of infamy!
Yet ye in silence hear the withering sound,
And gape with idiot stare upon the pageant.

Swiss.
What should we do?

Adel.
What should you do!—My voice is in my brand!

2d Swiss.
And who art thou, who 'mid the people that love him,
Forcest thyself, unknown, unsought, unsummon'd?

Adel.
I am a man Fredolfo hates;—a man
Fredolfo persecutes;—yet I am he,
Who with bare arm and single sword do press
Amid his native city's thronged streets,
Lifting my sole hand like a war-worn banner,
Which no band gathers round.

Swiss.
(shouting.)
It does! It does!

[They gather round him tumultuously.
Enter Fredolfo in chains, supported by Urilda— A mixed crowd of Soldiers, Peasantry, and Citizens follow tumultuously.
Uril.
(Triumphantly.)
See how they gather round thee—proudly gather,
As in the day of battle—how they hang
Upon thy looks, as in the hall of judgment,
When speech was eloquence, and judgment truth!
God bless you, brave and faithful hearts!—God bless you!

Fred.
(much agitated.)
And who are ye who proudly press around me?
“Bend ye those arms against the heart of justice
“Or against mine? if here, let them be buried:
“Perchance their aim is just. My countrymen,
“To the strong battle I have led you! baffled
“From its dread brunt have I e'er shrunk? Ye're silent!”
My countrymen! on your dear loves I call—
Not on your arms!—On the awful front of justice
Bend not thy hostile frown—I am a man—
Perchance an erring— (pauses)
Innocent, or guilty,
Heaven's arm alone can right me—Yours are nought!
Dash down those brands—then to your homes, my countrymen!
There fight with other weapons—kneel, and pray—
Pray that a sinful soul—all souls are sinful—
I will not burden ye—a pleading angel
Stands by my side, and soothes, and strengthens me!
I do not need your prayers.

[Sinks on Urilda.
Enter Wallenberg and Austrians, Guards, &c.
Wall.
What—lingering still? Away with him to the dungeon!
Dost thou take pride to tread these streets in shame,
A fetter'd felon, courting vile compassion—
Clanking thy chains to the accordant howl
Of wither'd beldams, and gross, gaping burghers?
Away with him!—And ye, coarse knaves, begone!
Your hero hath changed his temple for a dungeon!
By heaven, they loiter!

Fred.
Hence, depart, my friends!
I have no power—but I have still a voice—
“A voice that near your country's banner peal'd
“Like thunder round a spread and floating cloud.”
Hear its last cry:—depart—Fredolfo asks it!

(The crowd disperse.)
Wall.
And Wallenberg commands it! Drag him hence!
Hence! to the prison with him in their sight!

Uril.
Come then, to prison—though no breath of heaven
Shall fan our brows, their thrilling pores shall ne'er
Be damp, like thine, with horror's livid dews!
The stone must pillow us; but shriek like that
Which turns thy doom to fire shall ne'er assail us.
Fetters must bind those limbs that sanctify them—
Their iron shall not enter to the soul,
Like those a tyrant's crimes have forged for thee!
(To Fred.)
Why dost thou droop on those abhorred chains?
Cheerly, my noble father—heed it not—
It was a passing agony—'tis o'er!

[Struggling to dry her tears, and exit, leading out her father.
(Wallenberg stalks triumphantly across the stage, viewing them with scorn as they retire.)
Wall.
Oh! it will be a demon-luxury
To watch the throes of her expiring pride,
Beneath fear's mortal grasp—then, then, to see her—
Her tears, her tresses, white and clasped hands,
And heaving bosom, heaving at my knee,
In weeping beauty's bright profusion wild!
There's not a bloody page I will not turn
With burning study, so that I may wreak
Their full-collected pangs upon Fredolfo,
While that pale shrieking girl stands witness by!

Berthold rushes in.
Bert.
Waste not another moment,
'Twas he—'twas he—Urilda's dark-hair'd minion—
The youth for whom she spurns thee—'twas his voice,
Even now, that stirr'd the crowd to mutiny—
And he hath 'scaped us!

Wall.
'Scaped us? no, he must not,
Though he were borne beyond the reach of man,
I know a lure shall charm him to the snare,
Urilda's voice shall soothe, betray, and doom him!
When those we hate become our tools of vengeance,
Its work is perfect:—Proud and wretched girl,
When the strain'd balls of agony shall wander
From a sire's corse, and rest upon a lover's,—
Then, then, remember Wallenberg was scorn'd!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Interior of a Prison.
Enter Fredolfo, leaning on Urilda. Attendants belonging to the Prison.
Atten.
(with compassion)
Please you, my lord, rest here.

Fred.
(not heeding him)
I thank thee, it is very well!

Atten.
The air, I fear, blows chilly through that grating.

Fred.
Perchance it does—I do not feel it yet!

Atten.
Will you not rest upon this matted couch?

Fred.
(sits down, holding Urilda)
I thought I had, even now—I crave your pardon—
Where is my daughter?

Uril.
I am here—I'm here!
Clasping your dear hand, clinging to your neck.
Will you not look at me?

Fred.
The place is dark—
Mine eyes are dim o' the sudden—things look strangely—
But you will pardon me—and all is well.

Uril.
(weeping)
Oh! rend not mine heart in twain!
My friends, depart!

[Exeunt attendants.
Fred.
(anxiously)
There is a thick and heavy breathing here,
The very air seems shackled:—
It comes o'er me like an embracing prisoner,—
Who, in his salutation, feels his chain
Grate on the breast he clasps.

Uril.
It is not so!
The air through yon light grating blows full pleasantly.

Fred.
Urilda, this dark air hath been empoison'd
By many a murderer's breath.

Uril.
But thine shall consecrate it—thine, my father!
Oh! future sufferers here shall sit in pride,
Shall hug the chains that now I clasp in agony,
And proudly say, when from its horrid walls
They tread, “I have been in Fredolfo's dungeon!”

Fred.
Away! many a murderer shall here abide!
Dally not with my chains—thou canst not break them.

Uril.
Thy country's arm shall break them!

Fred.
A mightier arm (pointing to heaven)

Alone can break the chain that binds the soul!
Sit down—and if thou wilt on subjects talk
That hold alliance with this horrid place,
I'll talk of such to thee.—
There was a man, I knew him once, I thought,
But even his daughter would not know him now.

Uril.
It cannot be—his daughter still must know him.

Fred.
He was unhappy—

Uril.
Then she loved him better!

Fred.
But—he was guilty!

Uril.
Oh! impossible!
A father guilty in his daughter's eyes!

Fred.
I must go on.
That wretched man, through years of misery,
Had gone to where the guilty meet their fate—
None knew the thought that brought him there; perchance
They deem'd it pity!—No—he watch'd in anguish
How the pale wretch did on the scaffold stare—
Because—and if he had a daughter—then—
(Pauses in dreadful agitation, then proceeding with great difficulty, and sometimes glancing at Urilda, who sits by him in progressive and horrible stupefaction.)
The night came on—beside his couch of stone
His daughter sat—as now thou dost by me—
(Another pause—she looks at him long, without speaking.)
(Pointing upwards)
There was a dungeon o'er them—its dark vaults
A merciful shadow on his damp brow cast,
And she, who came with heart as light as thine,
(She lets go hold of his chains.)
Clasping her father's chains in triumph—
When she did hear that father's tale of crime,—dropp'd them!

Uril.
(after a pause)
But then she smiled upon him—did she not?
Or tried to smile? (forcing a convulsive smile.)


Fred.
(tossing his chains in sudden agony)
I am a murderer!

Uril.
(starting from him, and bursting into a horrible laugh)
My father! and a murderer! Ha, ha, ha!
(Recovering and going up to him tenderly, and hanging on him.)
Nay, do not try me so—thou speak'st in jest—
But try me so no more!

[Hides her head in his breast.
Fred.
I—I have spoken!

Uril.
(struggling with him in desperation)
Retract—retract! for Heaven's—for mercy's sake!

Fred.
Horrible truth!

(She rushes away from him, and remains at a great distance, gazing on him with a look of horror.)
Fred.
(holding out his arm to her)
My child! my child! if crime like mine may plead
Extremest wrong, and passion urged to madness—
These fetters will not plead to thee in vain;—
She will not speak—she will not listen to me—
My child and nature have abandoned me!

Uril.
(flying into his arms and clasping him)
Oh no!—no!—no!—they have not!

Fred.
(quite exhausted)
Leave me—leave me!
There is, perchance, a nook in this dark dwelling,
Where I may, trembling, supplicate for mercy
Alone—for in this moment's agony,
Even thine—thy sight is painful to mine eyes!

[He retires slowly to a recess in the prison.
(Urilda remains alone, fixed and stupified, in the front of the stage.)
Wallenberg enters silently, and approaches her— she does not see him till he is close to her— she then starts, and clings to him, with a dreadful scream.
Uril.
Save him, oh! save him! Thou alone canst save him!

Wall.
Why this appealing shriek—this frantic clasp—
These lifted hands—this prostrate agony?
What does Fredolfo's daughter seek from me?
You shrink, you turn away, you veil your face—
What! is it possible? Speak—answer me—
Is he then guilty? Is your father guilty?
Speak! I must hear the word—your father guilty?—

Uril.
(falling on the ground)
He is—my father!

Wall.
Prostrate at my feet!
The flower that scorn'd the touch must court the tread—
Rise, lady, rise! you much debase yourself
To clasp the knees of a rejected wooer!

Uril.
(writhing at his feet in agonizing humiliation)
Let not my gracious lord in wrath remember
The frantic folly of a wayward girl!

Wall.
(with increasing bitterness)
And when I trembled at Urilda's feet,
What was my answer?—“Never! never! never!
No, Wallenberg—no, Austrian—never! never!”

Uril.
Oh! I was proud—was mad—I did not know
That I was the vile thing I'm sunk to now.

Wall.
I was a villain—liar—was't not so?
Ay—liar was the term!

Uril.
Oh! no—not so—
How can you crush a worm, to see it writhe?

Wall.
(changing his whole manner)
Urilda, I can—pity, and forgive!

Uril.
(looking at him, then shuddering)
Can you?—Oh, never, never—Oh! forgive—
Can you forgive me?
Can you indeed? (clinging to his vest.)


Wall.
I can, and more—relieve—
Can give your father liberty and life!

Uril.
(with convulsive laughter)
Life!—liberty! and the poor guilty man—
Blessings, oh blessings!

Wall.
Hold—till I deserve them.
I dare not, in my duty's awful trust,
Rend ope the doors of an arraigned felon;
I cannot, as a son, from the loathed arm
That slew my father strike the clasping fetter,
And say, with horrid gratitude, Kind murderer!
You stabb'd my sire—your guerdon is your liberty!

Uril.
Well, well, my lord— (impatiently.)


Wall.
But, may not this be done?
Is there not yet among the patriot's friends
Some youth of bold and enterprising arm,
Who, with small cost of noisy eloquence,
May tempt the rabble on his prison-doors
To try their hands' rude strength, and not in vain—
While I to distant quarters lead the Austrians,
And leave the pass unguarded? May this be?

Uril.
(clasping her hands)
Oh, heaven! it may—it may!

Wall.
Know'st thou of such?

Uril.
Perchance there may be one.

Wall.
And one whom thou canst trust—whom thou couldst love?

Uril.
My lord!

Wall.
Oh! summon him! on the instant summon him!

Uril.
(kissing his hand eagerly)
Nay, do not wrest thy generous hand from me!
And he shall live?—Oh! from our distant home,
In poverty, in exile, yea in death—
How blessings shall steam up like incense for thee!
“Oh! think of a rich offering of full hearts,
“Burning upon an altar lit for thee,
“Bow'd knees, clasp'd hands, strong, eager, trembling prayers,
“That melt the saints, and take the heavens by storm!”

Wall.
And he thou lov'st—he too will pray for me!

Uril.
My lord!

Wall.
And may not luckless Wallenberg—
Albeit an exile from your soft retreat—
Steal with light step upon its paradise,
Gaze on your slumbers in its bowers of balm,
And smile on you, as I do now!

Uril.
Oh, God! (hiding her face)

Not that dread smile—Nay, do not turn from me—
Be not incensed—for my heart is sick
With doubts, with bodings, and with many fears.

Wall.
Thy fears and doubts, ere midnight, shall be ended—
Summon thy friend—prepare thee for the hour!
When the bell tolls, remember Wallenberg!

Uril.
For ever, and for ever, in my prayers!

[Kneeling.
Fred.
(rushing forward)
Hold, frantic wretch! he mocks thee—Wallenberg! (seizing Urilda's arm.)

If thou art here in scorn, I pity thee—
If thou art here in mercy, I disdain—

Uril.
(struggling with, and trying to soften Wallenberg)
Oh! heed him not!

Fred.
Heed him not, thou lost girl!
(Urilda struggles between them.)
I call on Heaven for mercy—not on man!
I've lived the champion of my country's rights,
I'll die the victim of my country's justice!

Wall.
(rushing furiously away)
Die, and despair!

Uril.
(clinging to him, as he drags her along)
Oh! he must not die!
Thou'lt save him yet—thou wilt—thou'rt merciful,
Piteous, and good—I will be thine!
(He dashes her from him.)
Thou wilt not spurn me—thou hast knelt to me—

Wall.
(with horrible irony, repeating his last words as he turns on her, while she kneels)
When the bell tolls, remember Wallenberg!

Uril.
(not understanding the menace)
Oh! yes—remember thee—with blessings! blessings!
[Wallenberg rushes out.
(She kneels, knocking in agony at the door.)
Hear me! Oh, hear me!—Oh! the door is closed—
The door of hope is closed!—Yet hear me, Wallenberg!
[Dashing her head in desperation against the door, then rushing back to her father.
(Falling at his feet.)
Lost! lost! for ever lost!

Fred.
(calmly clasping her hand, and pointing to heaven)
Not lost for ever!!!

[Curtain drops.